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section7mfu2019-02-19 12:52 pm
"Not a good night." for the PicFic Challenge
This story incorporates both photo prompts.
Illya was doing an overnight shift at headquarters as a favor to Napoleon. His latest paramour outside of headquarters was an airline stewardess, and she had a three day weekend, of couirse Solo wanted to join her.
Given Kuryakin was on light duty due to an injury received on his last assignment, he figured to himself that since he wasn’t doing anything special, so why not?
Napoleon would owe him a favor in return which Illya mentally tucked away for a rainy day. He could use this situation to coerce his partner into doing a few things for him, of that he was sure.
What, when and where would be of the Russian’s choosing.
Illya was sitting in the Security office monitoring the goings on in one of the labs; there was a slight suspicion of one of the techs who was perhaps performing a few experiments on the side for himself for financial gain.
That was a no-no, as any discoveries in the laboratories were the sole property of the U.N.C.L.E.
One of the secretaries had invaded the Commissary and brought Illya an order of pancakes, with maple syrup and a side order of bacon. She also knew to prepare his tea, sweetened with seedless raspberry jam.
He was enjoying his meal immensely thought that did not distract him from watching the security monitor.
He watched as Edward Middleton moved about the lab, but something wasn’t right. Eddie seemed nervous, ill at ease and Illya swore he saw the man tuck something inside his lab coat.
Since in was the wee hours of the morning there was minimal staffing in headquarters. At the moment there was only a junior agent from Section III there in the Security office with him.
“Agent Chow remain here and continue to monitor; I am going to the lab to investigate,”
“Yes sir Mister Kuryakin.” Peter Chow sat up straight, ready for this. His aspirations were to be transferred to Section V as doing courier runs, like getting Mister Waverly’s humidor filled at his tobacconist, just didn’t cut it for him.
He knew being a Section III could lead to a promotion to a Section II field agent, but he decided he didn’t want to flirt with death after all. He still wanted to work for the Command, but in a less dangerous fashion.
All sorts of support staff were needed and Security suited him just fine. Maybe if he handled this situation that Kuryakin had just dumped in his lap just might end up getting him the transfer for which he hoped.
Illya checked his weapon, and inserting it back into his shoulder holster, he slipped into his suit jacket and was out the door without another word.
It was easy to navigate the grey corridors of headquarters this time of the morning as they were virtually empty. He hurried, breaking into a run to get to the elevator and down to the labs.
As the elevator doors opened and closed behind him he pressed the button for the lower level where the laboratories were located.
He tapped his food as he waited impatiently, while listening to that insipid music being piped in through a small speaker. At the moment it was a recording of Caribbean Calypso by Mantovani, and no doubt Napoleon had his hand in having that added as part of the of the play selection...though he supposed it was better than the sing along recordings of Mitch Miller.
The Russian’s requests for Rachmaninoff, Tchaikovsky and Stravinsky were completely ignored…
Finally the doors opened and Illya stepped into the corridor, but what he was met with made his head spin.
There was a release of blue smoke and as he inhaled it things began to go crazy. He felt dizzy and that wasn’t good as he was already suffering from a touch vertigo now and then, another reason why he was confined to light duty.
Kuryakin gasped as he saw the floor leading to the lab, it was now black and white checked but part of it was dipping down as if caught in a sinkhole.
He broke out into a sweat as his head began to spin, but he forced himself to press his back against the white wall on the opposite side. The lab was the only place in headquarters where the walls weren’t grey.
As he slipped along the wall, fighting the nausea that now crept into his stomach; Illya managed to draw his gun and pushing his way through the double glass doors he made it into the main lab where Middleton was.
“Ahhh, Mister Kuryakin. I knew you’d be coming. I had everything ready for you.”
Illya could barely stand as he staggered towards the man.
“Whaaaa have you donnne to meeee?” He slurred.
“Oh just something to temporarily incapacitate you, and that will allow me to leave headquarters with this.” Middleton drew a glass vial containing a bright blue liquid from his inside jacket pocket.”
“Just a drop of this has put you in your present state, more could have killed you. Now I will bid you farewell as I have a buyer to meet, the Hierarchy of course. They’ll pay me very well for this formula and give me a job that will put a lot more money in my pocket than I had while working here.”
Illya continued to hold his gun in his wavering hand, trying to get a bead on his target.
Middleton laughed. “You’ll be dropping that very soon as your motor skills will begin to fail you. Don’t worry, the effects aren’t permanent but you’re going to feel pretty sick for a few days. Imagine having been run over by a steam roller.
Illya’s nostrils flared as he struggled to maintain control of himself. If he could just squeeze the trigger. That was all he concentrated upon as his legs were slowly giving way.
“Pfffft-Pfffft!” He managed to get off two shots.
One hit the vial Middleton was holding, the other the man himself. They were only sleep darts, and the first one merely knocked the vial out of his hand, and the other hit him squarely in the chest.
Illya dropped his Special and seconds later he collapsed on the floor.
Three days later he awoke in the Medical Suite.
Blinking his eyes a few times to clear his vision, he saw Napoleon sitting at his bedside.
“Mmmm...I feel terrible,” he mumbled “I do not think I have ever had a headache worse than this.”
“Welcome back to the land of the living tovarisch. Seems I can’t leave you alone without you getting into some trouble.”
“And if I had not granted you your favor you would have been here to help.”
“Oh so it’s my fault? Moi?”
“Tsk, no I suppose it is not, but just keep in mind that you owe me, how do you Americans say...big time.”
“Fair enough. Considering you managed to save the day while under the influence, and I wasn’t here to back you up; I’ll give you that one.”
“Speaking of being under the influence, what happened to the vial that Eddie Middleton, well the vial I shot out of his hand? Did it shatter?”
“Luckily it didn’t. It’s been analyzed and I gotta say if THRUSH ever got hold of it, we and the rest of the world would have been at their mercy. So you did good pal.”
“And Middleton?”
“He’s headed to Tartarus.”
“Good. And how was your excursion with the airline stewardess? Fruitful I hope?”
“Worst weekend ever,” Napoleon groaned.
Illya cracked a small smile. “Why is that?”
“Well Ramona sort of developed a nasty cold our first night together; I ended up being her nursemaid for the rest of the time as the hotel room was prepaid, with no refunds.”
“Oh, I am sorry to hear that my friend.”
“Me too. I'm just lucky I didn't catch her cold. Still I’m glad you’re okay,” Napoleon sighed.” So what do I owe you buddy? I’m a man of my word.”
“You know all things considered, this one is on the house. Except…”
“Okay, here it comes!” Napoleon laughed.
“No no. I was going to ask you to sneak down to the Commissary and get me an order of goulash...it is after all Thursday. I would much rather have that than what they served here in Medical, especially the lime jello.”
Napoleon cringed at the thought of the jello. “Consider it done.”
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thank you thank you!
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Glad you liked the story cuz!
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