http://alynwa.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
alynwa.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
section7mfu2019-05-08 08:18 pm
alynwa.livejournal.com) wrote in section7mfu2019-05-08 08:18 pm
Entry tags:
The You Don't Have a Partner Affair, Chapter 3
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Napoleon sat on his bed and reviewed his conversations with “Mr. Waverly.” He told me in our first conversation that I could stay for twenty – four hours to sort things out, but now he’s told me to be ready in an hour. What’s changed? He gazed out the window and mouthed a silent curse because he hadn’t looked outside last night so he had no way of knowing if the scenery was the same. Obviously, I was drugged somehow and I assume Illya was, too. One of us has been moved or maybe both of us.
He checked his wallet and his weapons; nothing was amiss. But then, why would it be? Whoever is behind this is confident that I have accepted that I was speaking with the “Old Man” and awaiting transport to Headquarters. So now I need to decide how to play this out: Should I remain in this room waiting or what? He checked his watch and decided to step outside to look around the place.
He saw the rental car they had arrived in and pulled the key from his jacket pocket. He walked around it and not seeing anything out of place, opened the trunk to look inside. It looked the way he remembered it. He then got into the driver’s seat and checked the odometer. Unless they pay very close attention to details, this car hasn’t moved since last night. Leaning forward so that his chest was against the steering wheel, he looked up at the motel’s façade. Nothing’s jumping out to me as looking different from last night. Illya’s been taken and I’ve been left behind. That means I’m still a three and a half to four-hour drive from Headquarters, but that imposter said an escort was coming in an hour.
He exited the vehicle and walked down to the road and looked both ways. “So, what have we learned today, kiddies?” he asked aloud. “That I’m not crazy: Illya Kuryakin, my partner does exist. We are the subject of some kind of attack that I don’t think involves THRUSH. My communicator was switched out when they took Illya. The man I spoke to earlier is not Mr. Waverly. I’m still at the motel and Illya’s been moved which could only be possible if we had been drugged.”
He bent down, picked up a stone and threw it “skip style” down the road. “I also know,” he continued on as he slapped his hands together to rid them of dirt, “that they aren’t as smart as they think they are because that fake Waverly didn’t know there’s no Agent Allen and I noticed it isn’t my communicator. The fact that I was originally told I had twenty – four hours to investigate my Illya memory only to be told not long after that to expect an escort in an hour tells me something changed their plans and they have to rush.” Just then, a car crested the hill about a half – mile away. “That’s probably my ride.” Impulsively, he raised his arm and waved with a huge smile on his face as they got closer. I think the best way to find Illya is to let this play out and see what happens.
Illya was slowly pacing his room, communicator in hand, absentmindedly twiddling it between his fingers as he thought about his situation. He was now completely certain that not only was this not some kind of THRUSH plot, this was neither CIA nor KGB. Whether or not Mr. Waverly speaks Russian is a simple thing to find out; the KGB would never make such a mistake! But the imposter had spoken like a native with no trace of any non – Russian accent. This leads me to believe that someone from my past has resurfaced with an agenda. Revenge, perhaps? But why not just kill me in my sleep? Why try to convince me that Napoleon does not exist? Whoever is doing this, they want something from me. If I am correct, my life is not in danger. Not yet. But what of Napoleon’s life?
Just then, his communicator began to trill. Assembling it quickly he said, “Kuryakin here.”
“Mr. Kuryakin,” the imposter said, “I need you to return to Headquarters immediately; there have been some major changes occurring in several affairs that you and I need to discuss.”
“Understood, Sir. I will be on my way as soon as we finish speaking.”
“I have sent a Section III team to retrieve you. Given that you have apparently dreamed up an imaginary partner, I feel it’s best that you not drive. Just relax until they get there. They should be arriving shortly. Waverly out.”
The snick sound indicated the transmission had ended. The Russian checked his weapon and pockets. He had two full clips; one darts and the other bullets. He had four bullets and five darts in his Walther.
He stepped out of the room and looked around. He had been so exhausted last night, Napoleon had to wake him to go to the room and he had just stripped and flopped into bed, trusting that Napoleon would secure the room. He had not noticed what the motel exterior had looked like, but he had not been so out of it that he didn’t know what kind of car they had rented. It wasn’t in the parking lot.
If my theory is correct, I have been taken. Perhaps they left Napoleon where they found us. I think the only way I can find out what happened to Napoleon and who is orchestrating this is to continue to act as if I suspect nothing. The honk of a horn pulled him out of his thoughts.
There were two men in the black sedan. “Agent Kuryakin, I’m Agent Thomas and this is Agent Robinson from Section III. Are you ready?”
He nodded and got into the backseat. “Let us go.”
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Napoleon sat on his bed and reviewed his conversations with “Mr. Waverly.” He told me in our first conversation that I could stay for twenty – four hours to sort things out, but now he’s told me to be ready in an hour. What’s changed? He gazed out the window and mouthed a silent curse because he hadn’t looked outside last night so he had no way of knowing if the scenery was the same. Obviously, I was drugged somehow and I assume Illya was, too. One of us has been moved or maybe both of us.
He checked his wallet and his weapons; nothing was amiss. But then, why would it be? Whoever is behind this is confident that I have accepted that I was speaking with the “Old Man” and awaiting transport to Headquarters. So now I need to decide how to play this out: Should I remain in this room waiting or what? He checked his watch and decided to step outside to look around the place.
He saw the rental car they had arrived in and pulled the key from his jacket pocket. He walked around it and not seeing anything out of place, opened the trunk to look inside. It looked the way he remembered it. He then got into the driver’s seat and checked the odometer. Unless they pay very close attention to details, this car hasn’t moved since last night. Leaning forward so that his chest was against the steering wheel, he looked up at the motel’s façade. Nothing’s jumping out to me as looking different from last night. Illya’s been taken and I’ve been left behind. That means I’m still a three and a half to four-hour drive from Headquarters, but that imposter said an escort was coming in an hour.
He exited the vehicle and walked down to the road and looked both ways. “So, what have we learned today, kiddies?” he asked aloud. “That I’m not crazy: Illya Kuryakin, my partner does exist. We are the subject of some kind of attack that I don’t think involves THRUSH. My communicator was switched out when they took Illya. The man I spoke to earlier is not Mr. Waverly. I’m still at the motel and Illya’s been moved which could only be possible if we had been drugged.”
He bent down, picked up a stone and threw it “skip style” down the road. “I also know,” he continued on as he slapped his hands together to rid them of dirt, “that they aren’t as smart as they think they are because that fake Waverly didn’t know there’s no Agent Allen and I noticed it isn’t my communicator. The fact that I was originally told I had twenty – four hours to investigate my Illya memory only to be told not long after that to expect an escort in an hour tells me something changed their plans and they have to rush.” Just then, a car crested the hill about a half – mile away. “That’s probably my ride.” Impulsively, he raised his arm and waved with a huge smile on his face as they got closer. I think the best way to find Illya is to let this play out and see what happens.
Illya was slowly pacing his room, communicator in hand, absentmindedly twiddling it between his fingers as he thought about his situation. He was now completely certain that not only was this not some kind of THRUSH plot, this was neither CIA nor KGB. Whether or not Mr. Waverly speaks Russian is a simple thing to find out; the KGB would never make such a mistake! But the imposter had spoken like a native with no trace of any non – Russian accent. This leads me to believe that someone from my past has resurfaced with an agenda. Revenge, perhaps? But why not just kill me in my sleep? Why try to convince me that Napoleon does not exist? Whoever is doing this, they want something from me. If I am correct, my life is not in danger. Not yet. But what of Napoleon’s life?
Just then, his communicator began to trill. Assembling it quickly he said, “Kuryakin here.”
“Mr. Kuryakin,” the imposter said, “I need you to return to Headquarters immediately; there have been some major changes occurring in several affairs that you and I need to discuss.”
“Understood, Sir. I will be on my way as soon as we finish speaking.”
“I have sent a Section III team to retrieve you. Given that you have apparently dreamed up an imaginary partner, I feel it’s best that you not drive. Just relax until they get there. They should be arriving shortly. Waverly out.”
The snick sound indicated the transmission had ended. The Russian checked his weapon and pockets. He had two full clips; one darts and the other bullets. He had four bullets and five darts in his Walther.
He stepped out of the room and looked around. He had been so exhausted last night, Napoleon had to wake him to go to the room and he had just stripped and flopped into bed, trusting that Napoleon would secure the room. He had not noticed what the motel exterior had looked like, but he had not been so out of it that he didn’t know what kind of car they had rented. It wasn’t in the parking lot.
If my theory is correct, I have been taken. Perhaps they left Napoleon where they found us. I think the only way I can find out what happened to Napoleon and who is orchestrating this is to continue to act as if I suspect nothing. The honk of a horn pulled him out of his thoughts.
There were two men in the black sedan. “Agent Kuryakin, I’m Agent Thomas and this is Agent Robinson from Section III. Are you ready?”
He nodded and got into the backseat. “Let us go.”
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
The way you built on Glenna's chapter is excellent, and you've moved things on perfectly.
no subject
no subject
no subject