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Aug. 26th, 2014
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pactnmmt.livejournal.comAll four jumped into action and before long the boat was sailing with a vastly reduced sail area. They all stayed topside in the cockpit ready to tend to the sails, trimming them or letting them out when needed.
( Read more... )carabele.livejournal.comGenre: GEN
Warnings: Mild Language
Length: approx 1025 words
( Get beached under the cut )
mrua7.livejournal.com
One minute, they were sitting at a Polynesian luau on a lush, palm tree covered island in the middle of the South Pacific, the next minute Napoleon and Illya were running nearly naked, and for their lives along the windswept tropical beach.
mrua7.livejournal.com
Napoleon watched from the top of the ridge as his partner headed out in the water. He shivered as the surface slowly covered Illya’s head, his red suit disappearing.
Although glad Illya had lost the coin toss and would be the one to coming from the back of the outcropping of land, he still worried about him.
The meeting was to take place on the top of the rise and Waverly was concerned it was a trap but the information was critical to the areas safety. The contact stated he would only meet with one man, but the head of section 1 wanted to ensure his agent’s safety.
“Turn around Mr. Solo,” an angry voice said.
Napoleon slowly faced the man to see a gun pointing at his stomach.
“I knew Waverly would send one of his top men. I was hoping for Kuryakin but your death will be just as welcome.”
“Then you have your wish,” Illya said as he came up behind the gunman. “Drop the gun, or this peaceful scene will be your last sight.”
Napoleon and Illya relaxed on the top ridge after the contact was taken away.
“You are right tovarisch; this is a tranquil view.”
“And we have ensured it stays that way,” Illya said as the sea swallowed the red globe of the sun.
mrua7.livejournal.com 
The two agents burst from cover onto the beach. Napoleon looked to the water’s edge and exclaimed, “I think your rescuing me just hit a snag; there’s no boat!”
The Russian grabbed his arm and began to pull him toward the surf. “See that jetty? The boat is on the other side; we have to swim to it!”
Napoleon hesitated, his natural fear of water evident on his face. “Why can’t we just run down the beach and move along that cliff face until we can step out onto it?”
( Read more... )mrua7.livejournal.comWhat can turn Paradise into a prison? How does a man start out with such high expectations, only to have his world come crashing down around him?
Napoleon Solo was wondering about all of these things and more as he looked at the body that had washed up on the beach in this Southern California town. So far the police had managed to keep the crowds away, and only Solo and his partner were allowed in at this point, their cards paving a way to the center of the crime scene.
jantojones.livejournal.com
Illya Kuryakin was very relaxed. Taking a break from his book, he watched, contentedly, as the ocean pounded against the sand and crashed against the palm tree topped cliffs. The sun hot and there was a warm breeze blowing in from the sea. It was the third day of a much needed holiday, and Illya had finally managed to push U.N.C.L.E. to the very back of his mind. Of course, he kept his communicator to hand, because you never knew when there was going to be a global emergency.
( Read more... )
mrua7.livejournal.comChallenge: PicFic 2nd Anniversary Challenge
Title: Maldivian Misadventures
Prompt: The original photo prompt from the first PicFic Challenge
Author: mrua7
Word count: Approximately 1600
Napoleon Solo was flying as the sole passenger on board the de Havilland DHC-2 Beaver; one of the first all metal bush planes, sturdy and reliable, giving him no pause for concern as they flew over the azure-blue ocean sparking beneath them.
This particular Canadian-made aircraft, converted to a sea plane built in the late 1940’s was in fair condition, not like a few others Solo had traveled in on this particular journey. At the moment they were somewhere in the Laccadive Sea, about 430 miles south-west of Ceylon and 250 miles south-west of India.
Their destination was an archipelago called the Maldives, consisting of a double chain of twenty-six atolls oriented north-south.
It was mere puddle jumping as his pilot, a local named Rafah Ibrahim Veer called it, though Napoleon wasn’t too sure about that.
( Read more... )
glennagirl.livejournal.comI decided to continue the story that started two years ago with this first PicFic offering. If you haven't yet read the re-post of the original story, you can do it HERE
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Two months after the death of Garrison Nealy...
“Illya, something new has come in regarding the drowning death of Garrison Nealy. Mr. Waverly wants us upstairs ASAP.”
Illya frowned at the news, reminded again of the scene in California and his partner’s morose behavior.
“Garrison had a heart attack. What sort of news could there be concerning his death?” Napoleon just shook his head. Something told him that he had been right all along; it wasn’t merely a heart attack that had killed his agent.
“I don’t know, but we may have another round of beach weather ahead of us if my instincts are correct.” A sigh of resignation met that statement as the Russian acquiesced to the inevitability of Napoleon’s instincts being on target. They usually were.
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