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section7mfu2018-10-16 11:59 am
"Oh boy..." for the PicFic Tuesday Challenge
The prompt:
“Well I must say Mister Jones, you have quite the collection of black and whites here. You have an excellent profile, and of course the hair, perfectly attractive now that the Beatles have made the look quite chic. I see you've done some acting as well, period pieces, war films... I think you just might be what we’re looking for.”
“Thank you Mister Coco. I really want to break into the industry.”
“Hmm, we’ll see,” the grey-haired designer lowered his sunglasses, eyeing Illya Kuryakin. “You’re slightly built, slender but muscular and photogenic. Your looks are all a plus but we need to do something about your name...Jones is so common.”
“It is my father’s name and my grandfather’s and so on and I am quite proud of it.”
Coco flipped through the papers on his desk...your first name? I’m not finding it.”
“Drystan... it is Welsh. You may be more familiar with the French version of Tristan.”
“Hmmm, I think Tristan would work better, less likely to be mispronounced like Drystan.” Coco studied Illya’s face. “Odd, you don’t look Welsh at all with your blue eyes and blond hair.”
“I take after my late mother who was Swedish.”
“Oh that explains it. You also don’t sound Welsh. Ble cawsoch chi eich geni?”
“Where was I born?” Illya repeated the question in English that had just been put to him in Welsh without missing a beat.
“Cefais fy ngeni yn Aberbargoed. Myself, my father, grandfather and great grandfather were born in Aberbargoed. There they worked the mines. My dream has been to escape such a life. I have worked to refine my accent to help me improve my social status. One tends to be allowed access to certain groups if you sound like a well-to-do upper crust Brit. The women like to keep to their own kind, shall we say.”
There was a mischievous twinkle in the Russian’s blue eyes.
“Oh aren’t you the clever one. Yes you’ll do perfectly ...Tristan,” Coco crooned.
Illya was taken to a room downstairs in the basement but there he was set upon and held down by two hulking goons.
“You thought I didn’t recognize you Illya Kuryakin?” Coco sneered. “I may be a fashion designer but I am also a member of THRUSH. You couldn’t have arrived at a more opportune time.”
“Oh really,” Illya said,”why is that?”
“I had need of a very special model for my fashion show tonight, and what’s better than one pompous U.N.C.L.E. agent. All of my competitors in the world of THRUSH will be in the audience and your presence will make for a perfect cover for me."
Coco turned to his people. “Dress him in the leather boots and pants. He’ll wear the black feather cape. Inject him with this to make him more pliant and open to suggestion.”
He held out a syringe filled with a noxious looking green liquid.
Illya hissed as the needle was jabbed into his neck. He began to feel drowsy, but not enough to make him sleep. It was more a of a warm fuzzy sensation and it felt really good.”
As the drug took effect he was given his instructions and asked to repeat them back; the Russian did so, flawlessly.
As skinny as he was, Illya had to be squeezed into the skin tight hip-hugging leather pants, then came the pair of dyed alligator skin boots. They too were a little snug, but that didn’t really matter.
He barely paid attention as they strapped a harness to his chest loaded with C4, instead he was studying the iridescent feathers covering the cape he was to wear to hide the explosives.
Illya was led upstairs to another part of the building that resembled a back stage. Half naked women hustled as they dressed in Coco’s designs while someone did their makeup for them.
Pushed into a chair in front of a mirror, someone began applying base makeup to Illya’s face.
“Ewww, you’re new. Has anyone ever told you that you have such beautiful skin? Well, your face that is. Where in the world did you get all these scars? “the artist said.”You into kinky stuff? Hmmm, would you care to meet me after the show for drinks and we can discuss what you like?”
Illya said nothing... he could only remember that he had to walk out in front of the audience. That’s what he’d been told to do.
A black swirling design was applied to half of Kuryakin’s face, reminiscent of the tattoos of the Maori people in New Zealand.
Once satisfied with his work the makeup artist waved Illya’s escort to take him to the area where he’d queue for his strut on the catwalk.
“What’s his name?” The artist asked.”He’s absolutely gorgeous.”
“Tristan Jones, but he’s not going to be around for long.”
“Tsk...pity.”
Illya stood motionless, just zoning out and then he was abruptly pushed out into the limelight. At first he was frozen like a deer in headlights, but then he took his first step as the rhytmic music blared. All eyes were fixed upon him.
He wrapped the feathered cape tightly around himself as he slowly moved to the end of runway. There doing a turn while he opened the cape as he had been ordered to do, thereby revealing the harness to the audience.
Some gasped and screamed, others applauded thinking it was part of the show.
Coco stood backstage holding the remote that would detonate the bomb and rid him of everyone who stood in his way on his rise up the T.H.R.U.S.H. ladder.
He pressed the button, and was practically giddy as he anticipated the loud boom.
Nothing happened…
“Surprise,” The voice of Napoleon Solo spoke from behind him. Coco could feel the barrel of a gun being pressed against the back of his rib cage.
“I’ll take that,” Napoleon grabbed the remote.”Though it won’t work as we’ve jammed the signal.”
“Why would you care? It could have blown up nearly all of the THRUSH satrapy directors for the East coast?”
“Because it would have blown up my partner, and he matters more to me,” Solo smiled.
A team quickly rushed to the audience and what remaining Thrushies were taken into custody, though the smart ones (if that phrase could be used in relation to them) had already fled the building
One of the team members escorted Illya backstage after having removed the explosive harness.
“Napoleon,”Kuryakin slurred.”Howdyou get here?”
“Magic, tovarisch. Hmm, nice outfit...going to wear that for your next Halloween costume?”
“Not really...toooo tight. Is chafing in all tha wrong places and the boots no fit either. I like the cape...I could dress up as a raven for April’s Halloween party. Do you know ‘The Raven?”
“Yes, I’m familiar with it. Remember you recited it at April’s party last year?”
“I did? Yes thas right.” Illya began to recite the poem.
“Once upon a midnight dreary, while I ponered, weak n’ weary, or many a quaint and curiousss volume of ffforgotten lore—While I nodded, nearly napping, sunnenly there came a tapping, as of someone genly rapping, rapping at my chamber dooor…”
“That’s enough tovarisch. Now how do you feel? Are you hurt?”
“Fffffeeeel. I fffeeel fffine.””
“I’ll bet.” Napoleon looked at his partner’s dilated pupils.”
“You’re as high as a kite, better get you to Medical.”
“Hi? Hi Napoleon! How did you get here?” You like my cape?” Illya flapped it like it was a pair of wings.
“Oh boy,” Solo buried his face in his hand.
.
* ref to “Trick or Treat”
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Excellent story, Cuz :-)
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well done !
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