section7mfu | Have A Seat

I'm a day late, and a few words over the limit.

Prompts: Hit, Orange

Word count: 992

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“I spy with my little eye…’ A groan from the seat beside him let Napoleon know his partner was not in the mood for his game. He found it amusing to use the phrase, considering the business he was in.

“What is it Illya? Why can’t you just play along for a few miles?” The Russian rolled his eyes, a typical response to his American partner’s fondness for frivolity.

“Napoleon, for some reason that escapes me, you insist on this… this…” Napoleon laughed out loud at the sputtering.

“Go ahead my friend, just spit it out if you can!” The glare failed to spoil his good mood. Communications had received a hit on a false trail left for THRUSH; the hope was that their birdbrained foes would follow up and take the bait offered. Solo and Kuryakin were on their way to the appointed meeting place where, if all went well, they would find their prey.

“C’mon Illya, we’re going to get the best of this one. I don’t think Bairnsdale can resist the temptation to have the real thing, or at least he thinks that’s what he’s going to find.” Illya closed his eyes and leaned back on the headrest, giving the impression of someone ready to take a nap. He was visualizing the orange upholstered chair that was the object of this bizarre affair.

Luther Bairnsdale had taken the bait about a chair imbued with some type of supernatural ability, and the promise that it would elevate his rank within the Hierarchy. Napoleon understood his friend’s skepticism, but Bairnsdale was convinced, and UNCLE wanted Bairnsdale. And so the story was circulated that the gaudy orange chair promised power to whoever sat in it.

When Napoleon and Illya arrived at the auction house where the chair was being offered, there were Section III operatives as well as Section II. The chair had been designed with some attributes, enough to convince someone seeking the peculiar characteristics of a supernatural piece of furniture. Because no one actually knew what the man looked like, they were depending on his eagerness to try out the chair and own it in order to identify him.

When the room was full and the clock chimed the stroke of noon, the doors were closed and the auction began. Several items were offered up for sale, the proceeds of which would be funneled into the UNCLE Charity wing that was under the supervision of Section VII. A number of wealthy individuals had been invited to this auction, primarily for the sake making it appear authentic. Bairnsdale would have needed that sort of reassurance in order to attend, his security measures were notoriously regimented. The orange chair, with its powerful properties, was the only hope that Alexander Waverly had of capturing this most dangerous THRUSH Chief. His villainy was surpassed only by his ability to hide in plain sight, thus the necessity for something for which he would want absolute proof, hopefully by demonstrating it himself.

When at last the chair was announced, the lights were lowered. A curtain was pulled back as a spotlight came on, shining down on the curious round chair, the effect like a bowl full of orange Jello-O. Once again, Illya was reminded of man’s propensity for foolishness.

The auctioneer began to recite the particular characteristics attributed to the chair, among them a heightened sense of perception and the ability to engage higher powers, such as telekineses and even mind reading. A gasp of disbelief rose from the room, but not everyone cast doubt on the chair’s power. A hand rose to ask a question.

“I see a hand, sir. What do you wish to ask?” The man at the podium was an R&D tech named Roger Downs, who also happened to have a degree in Theater Arts. His ability to both be in character and facilitate the chair’s abilities were the key to this demonstration.

The man stood up, and even in the dimmed lights some recognition of what UNCLE knew about Bairnsdale seemed to be evident. “May we have a demonstration of the chair? I would like to see if it works as described.” Napoleon looked at Illya, mouthing ‘bingo’.

Roger extended his hand towards the man, suggesting he come on stage. The one suspected to be Bairnsdale approached the chair and sat down with a great flourish.

The chair’s cushion was equipped with a vibrator that pulsed in rhythm to the heartbeat of whoever sat in it. A small speaker was inside of the chair back, and it began to emit a message intended solely for Bairnsdale. His eyes widened at the words he heard, and his heartbeat increased in a rage intended for the saboteurs within THRUSH who he now believed were intent on his destruction. Bairnsdale jumped up from the chair and demanded to own it, offering to better any other bid that might be made for it. That was enough for the UNCLE agents to move in and restrain him.

After the excitement subsided and the auction was declared at an end, congratulations were extended to everyone involved in the capture of the notorious Bairnsdale. No one was paying attention as Illya Kuryakin stepped up onto the stage and examined the big orange chair. His curiosity had gotten the better of him, and he wondered how the thing worked. Roger Downs was slightly offstage as he observed Kuryakin, and soon Napoleon was beside him as they watched his partner sit down in the chair. It was too much of a temptation to Solo.

The chair began to vibrate along with Illya’s heartbeat. It was lulling him into a zone of some sort, and then he heard it.

You alone hold the key to your future, and that future is…

That caused Illya to sit up a little straighter, in spite of his rational mind.

You and Napoleon are dining at Luigi’s tonight. You’re paying.