[identity profile] ssclassof56.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] section7mfu

“Hey, you. Freeze!”

Three heads swung toward the adjacent passage. A Thrush henchman, lowly in rank and lengthy in weapon, stood beneath the Way Out lightbox, his rifle barrel thrust between the rails of the collapsible gate. Illya’s grunt of aggravation was overmatched by Faustina’s menacing growl. Eyes of molten pewter sought to incinerate the jumpsuited intruder.

The Thrushie pulled a radio from his belt and said, “Kuryakin’s in the station. There’s no sign of the Partridges.”

The image takes you to AO3.

Guinness

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Section VII Propaganda and Public Relations

April 2024

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