The Boo from UNCLE: Chapter 8

[alynwa.livejournal.com]

They raced out of Waverly’s office; George and the women headed straight to the cafeteria while Illya, at Napoleon’s insistence, went back to the labs to see if he could get the miniature generator repaired while Napoleon made a beeline to Section III.  If what “Harry Beldon” and “Count Zark” said was true and the Old Man was indeed in Dr. Egret’s clutches, he would activate his homing device if he got a chance.  If Illya could get the power back on, if only for a few minutes, they might be able to locate his position, but Section III had to have his ring’s frequency pre – programmed so that no time would be wasted once the lights returned.( Read more... )

Pick a Wednesday, any Wednesday...

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

A Bonus Halloween/PicFic/Impromptu Challenge...

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

Take this for what it's worth, but I've been up since 4am, and eventually I had to amuse myself with something MFU.  So, here's Illya, in a pumpkin patch and he's looking for his partner.
Write a story, a drabble or whatever makes you hum.  Post it now or later, just keep it in mind and have some fun.

He arrived prepared for action, suitcase at the ready in case retrieval was a, well... problematic.  Napoleon was missing and had been for several days.  So far the homing device had not been helpful for, contrary to all rational thought and respectful of even THRUSH's bizarre manner of doing business, it appeared that the Russian's partner was buried beneath a pumpkin patch at the end of Old Rook Road.  Was that a THRUSH enclave?  Surely there was some connection.

"It's the Great Pumpkin Affair" for the Impromptu PicFic Challenge

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Illya finally made his way to the farthest corner of the immense pumpkin patch right off of Old Rook Road.  At least the homing device was telling him his missing partner was somewhere nearby. There was some sort of interference and he was unable to pinpoint the exact location.

It hit him suddenly in the pit of his stomach; was Napoleon buried alive...was he even alive? That thought horrified the Russian. He couldn't lose his best friend and partner like this. Such an ignominious end.

( Read more... )

Chapter 8 of the 'Boo From UNCLE " is up! Our Round Robin continues!

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

'

A ghostly tale evolving day by day...

The prompt- by mrua7

Chapter 1- by ssclassof56

Chapter 2- by insaneladybug

Chapter 3- by pfrye

Chapter 4-lindafishes8

Chapter 5- Avery11

Chapter 6-katb357

Chapter 7-leethet

Chapter 8- alynwa

Up TOMORROW 10/20 Chapter 9 by Otherhawk

"Once Bitten," a double drabble for A Little Drabble Do Ya!

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

He felt it, a sharp painful stab in his neck. Napoleon realized the woman he was with had bitten him. Pushing her away, he watched as she sensually licked the blood on her lips with her tongue.

“What are you, a vampire?” He chuckled.

Actually, they were both costumed as vampires for a party; he in a tuxedo, and a red satin-lined cape. She in a tight black dress with a plunging neckline. Her raven black hair fell straight to her shoulders, with her lips and nails painted ruby red.

.

Napoleon had met her when he went out for a drink by himself. She was at the bar nursing a glass of red wine.

Adreana laughed.“You drunk or something? There’s no such things as vampires.” She popped her porcelain fangs from her mouth.“Sorry, forgot I was wearing these. If you want to fool around, couldn’t we go to your place?"

“No such things as vampires?” Napoleon snarled.

Baring his own fangs; he sank them deep into her throat, draining away her life.



“OWWW!” Illya shouted. “Get off me! I cannot believe you bit me! What sort of ridiculous dream did you have now?”

“Oops...sorry tovarisch,” Solo cringed.

For The Sweet - A Little Drabble Do Ya

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

"Go ahead young man, take a candy bar.'  The old woman smiled at the handsome blond, his boyishness seemed in contrast to the darker man with him.  Now here was someone she would have made a pass at back in her day.

"And you too, I'm sure you wouldn't play tricks on an old lady."  Napoleon smiled his  most charming and reached into her big enamel bowl, extracting a 5th Avenue candy bar.

Illya caught sight of the name and laughed, choosing for himself a new favorite of his, Snickers Bar.

"Yes, I think you two got it just right."

A Little Drabble Do Ya: Indian Summer

[alynwa.livejournal.com]

“I’m loving this Indian summer weather!”

“You would,” Illya snarled, “I find it barely tolerable.  October is supposed to be nice and cool in New York City.  Look, people are sunning themselves in Central Park!”

“I suppose you would prefer 36 degrees and snow?”

“I would.”

“Illya, you are the only person I know who would rather have a snowy day than a warm one.”
“Napoleon, you must really come to the Ukraine with me.  You would meet many who feel as I do.”

“I think Soviets want everyone to be as cold as they are.  No, thanks.”

“Spoiled American.”

"Dreams" for the impromptu challenge

[rose-of-pollux.livejournal.com]

Illya had been having the recurring nightmare for weeks now—the same one, without a single thing changed. He was searching for Napoleon, who had been missing for days, and his homing device would lead Illya to an old pumpkin patch—beneath the dirt upon which the large fruits were growing.

( Read more... )

A novel solution - drabble and a half for A Little Drabble do ya

[otherhawk.livejournal.com]

Illya hadn't turned up to breakfast, which was unusual enough that Napoleon had turned right around and headed back upstairs to check on him. He stood outside his partner's hotel room, knocking, waiting and slowly starting worrying. Just before he reached the point of forcing the door, he heard shuffling footsteps and a second later Illya pulled the door open.

For a long moment they just stood there looking at each other, Illya, red nosed, bleary-eyed and wearing a dressing gown with at least a half dozen handkerchiefs poking out the pockets.

"I'b not sick," he announced stuffily.

"Uh huh." Napoleon raised an eyebrow. "I'm not sure I believe you, pal."

Illya sighed huffily and broke off coughing. "I might be gedding a cold," he admitted. "But I ab treating it."

"WIth what?" Napoleon asked involuntarily.

There was a pause. Illya's eyes narrowed. "Resentment," he hissed.