Make Me An Offer - Short Affair 2/18
Feb. 19th, 2019 10:33 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
glennagirl.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
section7mfuPrompts: Wool, Yellow
Word Count: 1218... slightly over.
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The room was lit by a solitary candle, its yellow flame flickering at the whim of the occasional gust of air that came through cracks in seemingly ancient walls. Illya Kuryakin was seated in an upholstered chair that was fashioned to look like a throne, or at least that was the impression he had of it. The wood trim had been weathered and cracked over the years, the fabric was tattered and torn. Whatever grandeur it had once portrayed was long ago vanished.
A rather substantial rope was wound around it and Illya’s torso, holding him securely as a THRUSH calling himself Toka questioned the blond agent from UNCLE.
“Where do you have the microdot hidden? I will find it, and beat you into submission Cossack.” The man’s accent was troubling, unnatural sounding. Illya thought it might be an affectation of some sort, but he resisted commenting on it. Sometimes he did invite more punishment, a behavior he was attempting to control more effectively.
Then again…
“I might tell you if you will inform me of your origins. You have a peculiar accent.” It was risky, but these THRUSH types did like to talk about themselves. Illya let his own accent thicken, preferring to appear more Russian than not.
Toka smiled at the prisoner. Perhaps they both had acquired peculiar accents in their travels. The insolence of questioning him, however, would not go unpunished. The punch to Illya’s jaw, when it came, jolted him so that his head was driven into the frame of the chair. The roughness of the wood left a mark on his face, and it felt like splinters might have created an abrasion on his skin.
“So, the accent is false then? I thought as much.” That merited another round of brutality that left the Russian gasping for air. The microdot was worthless, a ruse intended to draw out this particular satrap. He was thought to be the architect of a new assault against emerging nations, and so the whispers of a microdot containing information that might catapult him into the highest echelons of the Hierarchy began to circulate, all of them emanating from the wiley Alexander Waverly.
Toka was a self-made despot, as so many are. He had envisioned an empire over which he would rule, and his rise within THRUSH was the result of that ambition. He was also brilliant, and as he landed one more blow to Illya’s addled head, it occurred to him that perhaps he had been outwitted.
“You have no microdot! Where are your reinforcements? Do they intend to overrun me here? Did you think to pull the wool over my eyes?” Toka’s face was red with anger, and something in that, and the stream of questions he was spouting, made Illya laugh out loud. It was, no doubt, a mistake to do so, but he couldn’t contain it.
Toka’s face reddened even more, he sputtered something about insolence and killing people, most notably the man in front of him. None of that mattered, Illya laughed so hard it hurt, but the situation was ridiculous. The man was ridiculous. THRUSH was ridiculous.
“Let me tell you something Toka… ‘ Illya’s face was suddenly serious, his tone threatening.
“This compound is surrounded at this very moment. Your reign of terror is over and your life now belongs to me.” It sounded convincing, even though Illya was still tied to the chair and his face was beginning to bloom purple and blue marks from the beating he had taken.
Toka actually looked worried. His act had been effective for a very long time, but something about the Russian’s expression and tone made him believe that he was telling the truth. He had been duped.
“How? How did you do this to me?” Was he kidding?
“You are part of an evil that desires to subjugate the world under its own reign of terror. The Hierarchy will fail exactly because it is intent on exalting itself. People will always fight back, no matter how long it takes. You wish to determine how and what a population can or cannot do. You think you can create a society in which all will bow to your whims? There will always be a remnant to fight back, and sometimes we will catch you and stop your madness before it can infect the group you have targeted.
You lose Toka. Today, you lose.”
As Illya’s words filled the room, the sound of Waverly’s army resounded from outside of it. Shouts to put down weapons were followed by the rattle of guns dropping to the ground; Toka decided that he too would submit to those words.
Illya watched as the man who had, only a few minutes before, threatened to pummel him into submission, now sat down on the floor of the dingy room and put his hands behind his head in surrender.
“Who are you, really?” Illya wanted to know what sort of man would take on this strange identity, fake an accent and try to conquer the world.
Toka laughed at the question. Who indeed?
“My name is Harold Lagerton. I used to be an accountant for a THRUSH satrap named Desmond Ormand. I cooked his books and stole his money, then changed my identity so that I could … ‘ Harold shook his head and looked back to the doorway as Napoleon Solo walked through it. He was accompanied by two other agents, one of whom went to work freeing Illya from the chair as the other pulled Harold up and cuffed him. As he was being led out of the room he stopped in front of Napoleon and Illya, smiling as he spoke.
“I admit to my guilt, and my greed. I ruined Desmond, made THRUSH think he had betrayed them and stolen from the Hierarchy. So, I suppose I’m also guilty of his death at the hands of THRUSH assassins.”
The UNCLE agents exchanged looks that were questions and assumptions, a silent communication formed from their years of partnership.
“And you want what from UNCLE?” Napoleon was pretty sure he knew what the answer would be.
“What can you offer me? No matter where I go they will find me. I can give you details of other operations, names and dates. I know who has infiltrated your organization…’ He let that hang in the air.
“I will change sides, just like I invented Toka I can reinvent myself to be whatever you need me to be.”
Napoleon was willing to take this to Waverly, but for now Toka, or Harold… whatever he would call himself next…
“Don’t take your eyes off of this one.’ The instruction was called out to the men who would escort the prisoner to UNCLE Headquarters for interrogation and debriefing. Napoleon looked hard at the man who had caused all of this to come to pass. He took another look at his battered partner. Giving a pass to someone who had willingly inflicted pain and suffering on Illya and the people subjected to another megalomaniac from THRUSH left a bitter taste in Solo’s mouth.
“Don’t assume that your offer will be accepted. You are no longer in control.”
Harold Lagerton heard the words, but he was already plotting an escape, and retribution, should Alexander Waverly choose to ignore him.
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Date: 2019-02-19 05:35 pm (UTC)Stargate can fire the imagination though...."D
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