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Happy Birthday JKKITTY

Time to post links to your Gen or Gen-mature stories,
or those written by your favorite writer on section7mfu
Links to Pre-slash/Slash can be posted on uncle_du_jour
Het and Romance story links can be posted in mfu_map_room
(please remember to use appropriate tags)
We look forward to your recommendations!
IT'S ALL GOOD!
Illya was standing beside his partner, and another agent named Peter Crowley from the London branch, sending off a volley of bullets at the men who were chasing them. They’d made a wild chase of it through Strasbourg, a city in the northeast of France on the German border in the region of Alsace Lorraine. Now their luck had seemed to run out as the agents were trapped like rats on a bridge between the two towers of the Ponts Couverts, overlooking the Rhine, with no place to retreat and no cover to hide behind.
Had it not been for their dire circumstances, the view would have been serenely spectacular, but there was no time to even think about that.
When Illya Kuryakin first arrived in New York for his new assignment he was taken to headquarters directly from the airport to the little tailor shop that would lead him to another world, a clandestine one, hidden from the everyday person out on the street.
The drive there was an eyeopening one, as he tried not to gawk at the multitude of tall buildings, the hustle and bustle as well as the neon lights. He’d not seen anything like it, except perhaps Piccadilly Circus back in London’s East End. It wasn’t quite the same, but it was the only thing he could compare to it.
As he stepped from the UNCLE care in front of Del Floria’s, he looked around, and surprised at the simplicity of the street compared to what he’d seen on the drive from the airport.
Illya walked down the short flight of stairs, and hesitated just for a second before turning the knob and opening the door. This was a major step for him, coming to New York, yet a relief to get away from the presence of Harry Beldon...
A small brass bell tinkled his arrival to an older man behind a steam press, who looked up at him with a welcoming smile.
“Just go the dressing room,” the man, whom Illya was to learn was called Del, winked.