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section7mfu2020-03-03 09:03 pm
jantojones.livejournal.com) wrote in section7mfu2020-03-03 09:03 pm
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A Useful Doohickey - The Daily Prompt - March 3rd
This is a quick something I dashed off for today's daily prompt. It's a little rough and ready but I think it's going to be added to my pile of 'things to expand'.
You can find it under the cut.
Napoleon Solo entered the laboratories of U.N.C.L.E. New York in search of his partner. Illya Kuryakin was working on something which he hoped would be a lengthy distraction for Thrush during an operation for another Section 2 team.
The task would ordinarily be in the province of the usual R&D team but, since Illya was injured, and was an intermittent part of the team, he had opted to create the device. Napoleon spotted him in the corner of the lab, animatedly chatting with his lab assistant, Bill. Not for the first time, Solo wondered why the Russian had chosen a career of action rather than a scientific one. Illya would no doubt claim that the choice hadn’t been his, but Napoleon was certain that Moscow would have been just as happy with Dr Kuryakin as Agent Kuryakin.
“How’s the leg,” he asked Illya, after nodding a greeting to Bill.
“Almost back to full working order,” Illya replied. “No thanks to you.”
“I said I was sorry,” Napoleon protested. “It’s not like I did it on purpose.”
Bill looked from one man to the other, trying to read what wasn’t being said. Both men had amusement in their eyes, which didn’t match their words, but the tone of their voices told a different tale. Illya sounded annoyed and Napoleon sounded apologetic; which went perfectly with what was being said. Had he asked someone who knew them better, Bill would have learned that their eyes were telling the true story.
While it was true that Napoleon was partially to blame for Illya’s accident, the Russian accepted that it hadn’t been intentional, and had easily forgiven him. However, the pair enjoyed a bit of jocular ribbing with one another, and found it a useful tool against the horrors they were often witness to.
“What happened?” Bill asked.
“We were on a mission and, in a moment of fast moving action, I neglected to set the parking brake on the car.”
“It was on a slight incline,” Illya jumped in. “And, when someone fell against the back of the vehicle, it rolled forward and ran me over.”
“Oh,” Bill tried, but he found it difficult not to laugh.
Not wishing to feel the wrath of an angry Illya, he excused himself and darted away.
“So, this device,” said Napoleon, returning to the reason for his visit.
“It’s finished,” Illya replied.
He handed Napoleon a red, metallic box which was about the size of a cube-shaped soccer ball. On the top were three rows of buttons. The first row was a single blue button. On the second row were three light-up orange buttons, and the third row was comprised of three light-up red ones.
“What does it do?” Solo asked.
“The blue button is the power switch,” Illya explained. “When it’s turned on, the lights flash in a seemingly sequential way. To anyone studying it, the lights would appear to be coded information. Pressing the buttons will change the way they flash.”
“Hopefully this will keep Thrush busy,” Napoleon said, with a smile. “We’ll release some chatter about it and allow it to be stolen.”
“Excellent,” Illya replied. “Once you’ve put that into operation, we’ll go for lunch.”
“Why do I get the feeling I’m paying?
“Because you are a very astute man, my friend.”
.
You can find it under the cut.
Napoleon Solo entered the laboratories of U.N.C.L.E. New York in search of his partner. Illya Kuryakin was working on something which he hoped would be a lengthy distraction for Thrush during an operation for another Section 2 team.
The task would ordinarily be in the province of the usual R&D team but, since Illya was injured, and was an intermittent part of the team, he had opted to create the device. Napoleon spotted him in the corner of the lab, animatedly chatting with his lab assistant, Bill. Not for the first time, Solo wondered why the Russian had chosen a career of action rather than a scientific one. Illya would no doubt claim that the choice hadn’t been his, but Napoleon was certain that Moscow would have been just as happy with Dr Kuryakin as Agent Kuryakin.
“How’s the leg,” he asked Illya, after nodding a greeting to Bill.
“Almost back to full working order,” Illya replied. “No thanks to you.”
“I said I was sorry,” Napoleon protested. “It’s not like I did it on purpose.”
Bill looked from one man to the other, trying to read what wasn’t being said. Both men had amusement in their eyes, which didn’t match their words, but the tone of their voices told a different tale. Illya sounded annoyed and Napoleon sounded apologetic; which went perfectly with what was being said. Had he asked someone who knew them better, Bill would have learned that their eyes were telling the true story.
While it was true that Napoleon was partially to blame for Illya’s accident, the Russian accepted that it hadn’t been intentional, and had easily forgiven him. However, the pair enjoyed a bit of jocular ribbing with one another, and found it a useful tool against the horrors they were often witness to.
“What happened?” Bill asked.
“We were on a mission and, in a moment of fast moving action, I neglected to set the parking brake on the car.”
“It was on a slight incline,” Illya jumped in. “And, when someone fell against the back of the vehicle, it rolled forward and ran me over.”
“Oh,” Bill tried, but he found it difficult not to laugh.
Not wishing to feel the wrath of an angry Illya, he excused himself and darted away.
“So, this device,” said Napoleon, returning to the reason for his visit.
“It’s finished,” Illya replied.
He handed Napoleon a red, metallic box which was about the size of a cube-shaped soccer ball. On the top were three rows of buttons. The first row was a single blue button. On the second row were three light-up orange buttons, and the third row was comprised of three light-up red ones.
“What does it do?” Solo asked.
“The blue button is the power switch,” Illya explained. “When it’s turned on, the lights flash in a seemingly sequential way. To anyone studying it, the lights would appear to be coded information. Pressing the buttons will change the way they flash.”
“Hopefully this will keep Thrush busy,” Napoleon said, with a smile. “We’ll release some chatter about it and allow it to be stolen.”
“Excellent,” Illya replied. “Once you’ve put that into operation, we’ll go for lunch.”
“Why do I get the feeling I’m paying?
“Because you are a very astute man, my friend.”
.
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I was aiming for a quick double drabble, but somehow over 500 words tumbles out.