Apr. 15th, 2014

[identity profile] mrua7.livejournal.com
                                         



Illya Kuryakin sat outside in the drizzle, seeking shelter next to a closed storefront. Dressed in worn corduroys, a ragged hooded sweatshirt beneath a tattered leather jacket; he tried lighting a cigarette but the dampness made it a pointless effort. He flicked the butt to the wet sidewalk in disgust and  pulled a piece of plastic over his shoulders trying to fend off the rain.


He scratched his chin, with four days growth of beard long enough to now be annoyingly itchy. Not having had a shower in days or a change of clothing left him with a pungent odor to fit his cover as homeless street bum.


The Russian ran his fingers impatiently through his dirty hair. It had been too long now without so much as an inkling of activity in the green three story building he was watching across the street. P1060825

It was a neighborhood full of boarded up buildings covered in colorful graffiti, with punks hanging out on street corners; though due to the weather Illya was the only idiot on the sidewalk except for the periodic passerby.

He had a soggy coffee cup sitting next to him on the sidewalk, looking as if he were begging some coins, but there were no donations today. Stakeouts were annoying, but why it always seemed to be his turn outdoors during nasty weather; he never understood this.

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[identity profile] dixiebelle2013.livejournal.com

"We suspect that Glock Drugs has been infiltrated by THRUSH, and that operatives passing as pharmacists are substituting legitimate drugs with mind-control chemicals," Mr. Waverly told Illya. "Your assignment is to pose as a lab technician there long enough to find out if these suspicions are true and, if so, to bring the operation to an end."

The following morning, Illya found himself standing on the corner in front of the drugstore, wearing a white lab coat. The store was inside a red brick building which had a large white marquee with red neon letters in front stating its name and the fact that it had been established in 1885. Right underneath, the large windows at the front of the store were littered with notices, messages, and cards taped to the glass, but the store's interior could still be easily seen.

Entering the laboratory at the back of the store, Illya immediately caught curious glances from a couple of young women in identical white coats. "You must be a new hire," one of the women remarked.

"Why, yes, I am," Illya replied pleasantly. "My name is Phil. Phil Culkin."

"Nice to meet you, Phil," the young woman replied with a smile. "I'm Peggy."

Ill

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[identity profile] glennagirl.livejournal.com

170502_original

The street looked desolate, like something out of an Alfred Hitchcock film.  A few people straggled along the broken sidewalk, their meager purchases evident in paper sacks that weren’t brimming over.

Two men walked side by side, one in an expensive tailored suit, the other in black corduroy jeans and an oversized black sweater.  The former was well groomed and handsome; he looked out of place in front of the dilapidated old drug store.  The other fellow, smallish in stature with unkempt blond hair that was long enough to draw disapproving stares, even in this part of town.

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[identity profile] mrua7.livejournal.com
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