Sep. 4th, 2019
"It's not your fault"
Sep. 4th, 2019 01:30 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
A gruesome scene. They’d cut off his shirt and tied him to a telephone pole in a junk-filled back lot and began to whip him with a cat-o-nine tails. At first Illya forced himself to bear the pain in silence, but as the leather continued bite into his back, he finally grimaced, and cried out.
“Ahhhhh, so you’re not impervious to pain as they say,” the interrogator, a man called Doombrosky also known as Doctor Doom, sneered in a heavy accent. “Tell me vat I vant to know and it vill stop.”
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![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
“Oh look Napoleon, there's one.’ A finely manicured hand reached out and pointed towards a bright spot above the dawn’s horizon.
“It's a sign of the season, the dog days of summer.” Napoleon Solo had learned quite a lot in his young life, including the finer points of how to please young ladies. He had no idea about stars or what they had to do with the weather. It might have been a mistake to date a science major.
“You’re my morning star, beautiful.” And with that he kissed her until she didn’t care about weather or stars any longer.