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section7mfuIllya Kuryakin could almost be described as a polymath. He was well versed in science, and literature, but it was with music that his heart truly resided. His particular favourite, to both listen to, and play, was jazz; in its many and varied guises. It was because of this, that Illya was enjoying his assignment in New Orleans, with all its jazz festivals. It was also the reason he’d allowed his concentration to lapse.
He and Napoleon were observing the crowds of Mardi Gras, looking for any sign of a Thrush man called Dane Morgan. Their assignment was to note any contacts he made, so that U.N.C.L.E. could work out his network within the city. Another two hours with no sign of their mark, Napoleon had taken a chance to go and answer a call of nature.
While he was gone, Illya unconsciously became drawn into the music of the bands which were passing by. He was particularly taken with the tuba which had come to a stop right in front of him as the parade paused momentarily. It was providing the lowest notes of the music, the sound of which felt almost hypnotic.
Suddenly, he caught sight of Morgan across the street. The man was smiling at him in an annoyingly mocking manner, and it was only then that Illya realised why the tuba was so mesmerising. Looking closely, he could see the faint whisper of a gas coming from a small attachment at the bottom of the instrument. Illya’s last thought before losing consciousness was ‘how is this happening again?’*.
He woke in hospital bed he didn’t recognise. There was a brief moment of panic before he noticed Napoleon sitting in a chair across the room.
“What happened?” he asked.
“You tell me, Tovarisch,” Napoleon replied, laying down the magazine he had been reading. “I came back and found you out cold on the grass. No-one bothered to help you because there were many people, in varying degrees of intoxication, who were also lying on the ground.”
Illya thought back, and related his sorry tale to his partner.
“Mr Waverly will have my head for this,” he moaned.
“Fear not, my sleepy Soviet. Given that you were attacked, it’s clear that Morgan was aware of our surveillance of him,” Solo told him. “As such, Waverly knows that the mission was already a bust before he got to you.”
Illya nodded in acceptance, relieved that he wasn’t in for a chewing out.
“If I was only hit with a knockout gas, why am I in hospital?
“I wasn’t to know why you were unconscious,” Napoleon explained. “Don’t worry, though you won’t have to stay now you’re awake. Although, it’s almost dinner time, and I’m sure they’ll have some jello if you want it.”
Napoleon’s response to the glacial glare he was hit with was to widen his grin further.
*The Minus-X Affair – Illya was rendered unconscious by a dart from a trumpet.
.
He and Napoleon were observing the crowds of Mardi Gras, looking for any sign of a Thrush man called Dane Morgan. Their assignment was to note any contacts he made, so that U.N.C.L.E. could work out his network within the city. Another two hours with no sign of their mark, Napoleon had taken a chance to go and answer a call of nature.
While he was gone, Illya unconsciously became drawn into the music of the bands which were passing by. He was particularly taken with the tuba which had come to a stop right in front of him as the parade paused momentarily. It was providing the lowest notes of the music, the sound of which felt almost hypnotic.
Suddenly, he caught sight of Morgan across the street. The man was smiling at him in an annoyingly mocking manner, and it was only then that Illya realised why the tuba was so mesmerising. Looking closely, he could see the faint whisper of a gas coming from a small attachment at the bottom of the instrument. Illya’s last thought before losing consciousness was ‘how is this happening again?’*.
He woke in hospital bed he didn’t recognise. There was a brief moment of panic before he noticed Napoleon sitting in a chair across the room.
“What happened?” he asked.
“You tell me, Tovarisch,” Napoleon replied, laying down the magazine he had been reading. “I came back and found you out cold on the grass. No-one bothered to help you because there were many people, in varying degrees of intoxication, who were also lying on the ground.”
Illya thought back, and related his sorry tale to his partner.
“Mr Waverly will have my head for this,” he moaned.
“Fear not, my sleepy Soviet. Given that you were attacked, it’s clear that Morgan was aware of our surveillance of him,” Solo told him. “As such, Waverly knows that the mission was already a bust before he got to you.”
Illya nodded in acceptance, relieved that he wasn’t in for a chewing out.
“If I was only hit with a knockout gas, why am I in hospital?
“I wasn’t to know why you were unconscious,” Napoleon explained. “Don’t worry, though you won’t have to stay now you’re awake. Although, it’s almost dinner time, and I’m sure they’ll have some jello if you want it.”
Napoleon’s response to the glacial glare he was hit with was to widen his grin further.
*The Minus-X Affair – Illya was rendered unconscious by a dart from a trumpet.
.
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Date: 2019-03-25 08:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-03-25 10:36 pm (UTC)I think my brain works sideways sometimes, LOL