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section7mfu2013-04-05 07:25 pm
avrovulcan.livejournal.com) wrote in section7mfu2013-04-05 07:25 pm
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Wild Woman From Borneo - Part Four
Link to Part Three: http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/279517.html
Illya stood opposite Rebecca, holding his ground as he stared into her eyes. She was snarling at him, poised to attack, as they circled each other.
Her eyes were feral, no recognition in them at all, but so far, she hadn’t made a move to actually attack him, he hoped this was a good sign.
“Rebecca, can you hear me? Do you know who I am? It is me, Illya.”
She stopped snarling and cocked her head to the side, as if thinking, her eyes still those of a wild animal.
“Eeeeelyaaah,” she growled as she continued stalking him.
“Yes, Rebecca. Illya,” hope in his heart that some part of her was still there.
“Reeee…. Reeeebecaaaarrrr,” she tilted her head the other way as she tried to say her name, still keeping her eyes fixed on the Russian.
While Kuryakin was occupied with the human leopard, Solo approached Vanderfeld. Napoleon's anger over what had been done to Becca evident in his body language, and with the gun pointed unwaveringly at his adversaries chest.
“I don’t know how or what you've done to her, but it better be reversible.”
“So you do know her then? Oh, this is going to be interesting,” he raised his voice higher as he watched the current standoff, “she-wolf, you will obey me, kill them.”
Rebecca growled in response but didn't make any further move towards Illya.
“She doesn't seem to be listening to you does she? Maybe you don’t have the control over her that you think you do,” Solo remarked.
“I think you may need to reconsider that comment, I do believe her training is starting to take over again,” Vanderfeld replied with a grin as they both looked towards the sudden noise.
There was a loud snarl as Rebecca launched herself towards Kuryakin, biting his arm severely as he raised it to protect his face.
“Chert, ona ukusila menya (Hell, she bit me),” Illya gasped.
Rebecca stopped her second attack when she heard him swear in Russian, head again cocked to one side as if something was stirring in her mind.
“Rebecca , moya lyubovʹ, pozhaluysta, poslushayte menya, my ne khotim prichinitʹ tebe bolʹ. (Rebecca, my love, please listen to me, we do not want to hurt you.)”
“She-wolf, ignore him, follow my command and continue your attack,” Otto Vanderfeld screamed.
“I've had enough of hearing your voice, goodnight Vanderfeld.” Solo darted him easily, he was surprised the THRUSH didn’t even put up a fight, so confident was he that Becca would obey him eventually.
Napoleon slowly approached Illya and Rebecca, ready to help his partner if he needed it. Kuryakin was still talking to her in his native toungue, it seemed to be triggering something in her; then without warning, she leapt for him again. Solo wasted no time and darted her, hoping that the sleeping drug wouldn’t react badly with whatever had been given to her.
Illya knelt down beside the unconscious form lying crumpled on the floor. He looked up to his partner, “You did not need to do that, Napoleon, I was doing fine, something was happening.”
“I'm sorry, but yes I did, my friend. She's bitten you once, and you've already seen what she's capable of, she was about to attack you again,” Solo replied sadly as he placed a hand on Kuryakin's shoulder, squeezing it slightly.
“I was ready for her," the Russian looked down at Becca, stroking some hair away from her face, "I think she was beginning to recognise me.”
“Maybe, but she was still about to hurt you again. We need to get out of here, I’ll contact our Georgia office in Atlanta and arrange for a clean-up crew.” Napoleon made his way to a telephone sat on a desk in the corner of the room and started to dial.
Illya gently examined Rebecca, checking her over for any clue as to what had been done to her. He could see through the tears of her outfit there were plenty of marks on her back from the whip, some healing, some new and weeping; more scars to add to the ones she already had.
“Clean-up are on their way," Napoleon confirmed as he rejoined his partner.
"I am surprised the other two women have not made an appearance,” Illya commented, "or anyone else for that matter."
“Tovarisch, with all the noise, and added to that, Becca, maybe they didn’t want to risk coming back in here. I’ll go and see if they’re still around and who else may be with them.”
He came back several minutes later, quicker than the Russian had expected.
“They were hiding in the other room, they've been held here against their will too. Apart from our sleeping THRUSHies here, the only others around are the women in his harem. It seems Vanderfeld thought so much of his, err, treatment programme, he believed he only had need of those three guards. Anyway, they’re going to wait for our Georgia personnel to come and help them with clearing this place.”
Kuryakin rolled his eyes, "overconfidence, they will never learn, but it makes our job a bit easier."
Illya had rolled up Rebecca's sleeves and was checking her arms, finding the tell-tale signs from a hypodermic needle. “I think she has been drugged, her arms are covered in puncture marks.”
“Mmm, the two beauties in there seem to think she was ‘medicated’ at least three times a day. Maybe that means whatever she’s been given might wear off eventually and with a bit of luck, sooner rather than later.”
“Let us hope,” Illya replied, not wanting to think of the alternative.
“How are we going to get Becca back to HQ? I wouldn’t like to take her on a plane, not in her present condition, same with the train.”
“No, I agree, not a good idea. It looks like it is going to be a long drive back to New York then.” Illya sighed, not looking forward a long uncomfortable trip in a car all the way from Southern Georgia.
Illya stood opposite Rebecca, holding his ground as he stared into her eyes. She was snarling at him, poised to attack, as they circled each other.
Her eyes were feral, no recognition in them at all, but so far, she hadn’t made a move to actually attack him, he hoped this was a good sign.
“Rebecca, can you hear me? Do you know who I am? It is me, Illya.”
She stopped snarling and cocked her head to the side, as if thinking, her eyes still those of a wild animal.
“Eeeeelyaaah,” she growled as she continued stalking him.
“Yes, Rebecca. Illya,” hope in his heart that some part of her was still there.
“Reeee…. Reeeebecaaaarrrr,” she tilted her head the other way as she tried to say her name, still keeping her eyes fixed on the Russian.
While Kuryakin was occupied with the human leopard, Solo approached Vanderfeld. Napoleon's anger over what had been done to Becca evident in his body language, and with the gun pointed unwaveringly at his adversaries chest.
“I don’t know how or what you've done to her, but it better be reversible.”
“So you do know her then? Oh, this is going to be interesting,” he raised his voice higher as he watched the current standoff, “she-wolf, you will obey me, kill them.”
Rebecca growled in response but didn't make any further move towards Illya.
“She doesn't seem to be listening to you does she? Maybe you don’t have the control over her that you think you do,” Solo remarked.
“I think you may need to reconsider that comment, I do believe her training is starting to take over again,” Vanderfeld replied with a grin as they both looked towards the sudden noise.
There was a loud snarl as Rebecca launched herself towards Kuryakin, biting his arm severely as he raised it to protect his face.
“Chert, ona ukusila menya (Hell, she bit me),” Illya gasped.
Rebecca stopped her second attack when she heard him swear in Russian, head again cocked to one side as if something was stirring in her mind.
“Rebecca , moya lyubovʹ, pozhaluysta, poslushayte menya, my ne khotim prichinitʹ tebe bolʹ. (Rebecca, my love, please listen to me, we do not want to hurt you.)”
“She-wolf, ignore him, follow my command and continue your attack,” Otto Vanderfeld screamed.
“I've had enough of hearing your voice, goodnight Vanderfeld.” Solo darted him easily, he was surprised the THRUSH didn’t even put up a fight, so confident was he that Becca would obey him eventually.
Napoleon slowly approached Illya and Rebecca, ready to help his partner if he needed it. Kuryakin was still talking to her in his native toungue, it seemed to be triggering something in her; then without warning, she leapt for him again. Solo wasted no time and darted her, hoping that the sleeping drug wouldn’t react badly with whatever had been given to her.
Illya knelt down beside the unconscious form lying crumpled on the floor. He looked up to his partner, “You did not need to do that, Napoleon, I was doing fine, something was happening.”
“I'm sorry, but yes I did, my friend. She's bitten you once, and you've already seen what she's capable of, she was about to attack you again,” Solo replied sadly as he placed a hand on Kuryakin's shoulder, squeezing it slightly.
“I was ready for her," the Russian looked down at Becca, stroking some hair away from her face, "I think she was beginning to recognise me.”
“Maybe, but she was still about to hurt you again. We need to get out of here, I’ll contact our Georgia office in Atlanta and arrange for a clean-up crew.” Napoleon made his way to a telephone sat on a desk in the corner of the room and started to dial.
Illya gently examined Rebecca, checking her over for any clue as to what had been done to her. He could see through the tears of her outfit there were plenty of marks on her back from the whip, some healing, some new and weeping; more scars to add to the ones she already had.
“Clean-up are on their way," Napoleon confirmed as he rejoined his partner.
"I am surprised the other two women have not made an appearance,” Illya commented, "or anyone else for that matter."
“Tovarisch, with all the noise, and added to that, Becca, maybe they didn’t want to risk coming back in here. I’ll go and see if they’re still around and who else may be with them.”
He came back several minutes later, quicker than the Russian had expected.
“They were hiding in the other room, they've been held here against their will too. Apart from our sleeping THRUSHies here, the only others around are the women in his harem. It seems Vanderfeld thought so much of his, err, treatment programme, he believed he only had need of those three guards. Anyway, they’re going to wait for our Georgia personnel to come and help them with clearing this place.”
Kuryakin rolled his eyes, "overconfidence, they will never learn, but it makes our job a bit easier."
Illya had rolled up Rebecca's sleeves and was checking her arms, finding the tell-tale signs from a hypodermic needle. “I think she has been drugged, her arms are covered in puncture marks.”
“Mmm, the two beauties in there seem to think she was ‘medicated’ at least three times a day. Maybe that means whatever she’s been given might wear off eventually and with a bit of luck, sooner rather than later.”
“Let us hope,” Illya replied, not wanting to think of the alternative.
“How are we going to get Becca back to HQ? I wouldn’t like to take her on a plane, not in her present condition, same with the train.”
“No, I agree, not a good idea. It looks like it is going to be a long drive back to New York then.” Illya sighed, not looking forward a long uncomfortable trip in a car all the way from Southern Georgia.
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