Round Robin entry for Section 7/Higher Objectives, Chapter 3 by sidhe_uaine42

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Originally posted by sidhe_uaine42 at Round Robin entry for Section 7/Higher Objectives, Chapter 3 by sidhe_uaine42

http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/1390570.html

I didn't have a beta, plus I apologize for not really moving the storyline ahead. It's my first time writing in this fandom. *blush*
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A man sat in front of a mirror, a nice array of cosmetics on the table along with several pairs of colored contact lenses. With an experienced hand, the man chose a foundation two shades darker than his natural skin tone, then returned the rest to their respective places.

Turning his attention to the contacts, his hands trembled slightly. "Should I go green or brown? Odd eyes? Who should I be? A Georgian? Armenian? Chechen? Ukrainian? From the Baltic States? Siberia, perhaps part Inuit? One of the gypsies?"

He shook his head, delaying his final decision for another few minutes as he reached for an eyebrow pencil to cover his pale blond eyebrows. "Perhaps I should add a little red this time. Oh, and maybe a tiny scar." He caught a glimpse of his partner in his peripheral vision, turning away from his own reflection.

"Napoleon, were you able to get a couple of wires?"

"New girl in requisitions. It was like taking candy from a baby." The dark-haired man replied. "Need help?"

"Just wondering which color eyes I should have, plus which State I should be from. It would effect my accent as well as my dialect." Illya turned back to the mirror, then added a tiny scar near the right side of his nose.

"I see what you mean." Napoleon tilted his head slightly to his right, scrutinizing his partner's work. He reached for the appropriate hairpiece for the rest of the look the Soviet was trying for.

"Spacibo, drug."

"You're welcome."

Illya shook his head slightly. "You're not going to pass as a Soviet with your obvious American accent. We're going into Little Russia, and the mafiya will shoot first, ask questions later. Our cover story is that you're first-generation American or originally from the Soviet Union. They'll catch us if you don't adapt.

"I trust you, but this is the first time we couldn't ask for backup from anyone."

The dark-haired man squeezed the blond's shoulder, causing the other to relax.

"If I have to, I'll play deaf and dumb," Napoleon smiled slightly.

"Until a pretty girl crosses your path..."

(Okay, insaneladybug, it's your turn.)

The Round Table Has Moved...

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You can find today's topic in Round Table's new home, uncle_du_jour .  We're talking about our guys' social lives, or if they have one.  Join us and get in on the conversation.

Round Robin: Higher Objectives, Chapter 4

[insaneladybug.livejournal.com]

Cutting this down from 305 to 200 words was quite an experience. But I have to do that all the time at work, so it was good practice....

I hope this looks alright; I had to take things in a different direction since I am really not familiar with Soviet states or Cold War details. Hopefully it will bring up some nice possibilities to work with anyway, especially considering the very first chapter? Perhaps the one who did the bugging was not THRUSH....

Chapter 4

With Illya still occupied, Napoleon headed for the door. “Call me when you have it figured out.”

“Where are you going?” Illya frowned at Napoleon’s reflection.

“Just to gather what else I may need for our little off-the-record excursion.”

Napoleon stepped into the hall. The lightbulb had given up the ghost, rendering the corridor a dark maze. The figure leaning against the wall fit the scene perfectly.

“You and Kuryakin love to stir up hornets’ nests, don’t you?”

Napoleon tensed. “To which hornet’s nest are you referring?”

He could almost feel the sneer in the dark. “I know you’re going into Little Russia against Waverly’s orders. Don’t worry. I won’t interfere. I just thought I should tell you: if I know what you’re doing, your enemies might as well.”

“I see. Would you mind telling me how you know?”

“I don’t mind. You should have considered that something was bugged.”

Napoleon stared. “Illya’s apartment?”

“Or your car. Or your apartment. I didn’t bug anything; I just overheard someone playing a conversation he recorded.” The figure melted into the shadows.

“Hey, wait!” Napoleon yelled. But he was already gone.

Reeling from this development, Napoleon went to tell Illya the grim news.