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section7mfu2013-06-11 07:45 am
glennagirl.livejournal.com) wrote in section7mfu2013-06-11 07:45 am
Entry tags:
Ahhh... So? - PicFic 6/11
This story began with Stranger Things Have Happened, and continues in this order: Duck and Cover , All Bottled Up , A THRUSH By Any Other Name and Assassins and Tigers and THRUSH, O My!
~~~~~:
In spite of the dread brought on by the disclosures made by Irene Baldwin, Illya determined that he would not miss an opportunity to dine on San Francisco’s finest … Chinese takeout. He had found this city’s offerings to be the best of any he had tried, and regardless of whatever they might be facing tomorrow, tonight he would have Chinese food.
Irene had one of her attendants go and fetch the desired items so that the UNCLE agents could continue to speculate and plan. Ward slept on, unaware of what was going on around him and for him. If Napoleon could have changed anything, it would be the prospect of meeting yet another deranged Voegler. Their last encounter had been life threatening to the Russian, and the probability that this latest attack on Baldwin was related seemed irrefutable.
As the trio of conspirators prepared to eat from the various ubiquitous containers that always signified Chinese cuisine, the question on their minds was who it was that had engineered the attack on Ward. To the best of UNCLE’s research there was only one Voegler son, and he was dead. It was going to be difficult to find another person on whom to hang this deed if no other members of the family could be identified.
Irene was chewing on a crab Rangoon as she considered the problem at hand.
“Napoleon, Illya, I think that there must be a woman involved. It has all of the markings of a female’s plan. And now that I think about it, the only woman who has been near enough to infiltrate my home and surroundings is …
“Veronica Revere!” Both men let it out in a unified exclamation. Of course, why had they forgotten about her so quickly?
“She lured us to San Francisco under the pretense of this information she possessed, and was able to entice Irene and Ward to take her in and protect her. Clever young woman…”
Napoleon remembered the attractive Veronica, as did Illya. His impression of her was slightly less romantic, however.
“She must be connected to Voegler somehow…”
Just then the woman in question entered the dining room where the Chinese feast was taking place. It was perfectly timed, finding them all like this in the throes of discovery. She couldn’t have imagined it more perfectly.
“Yes, I am connected to Kurt Voegler. He was my other uncle, the one who didn’t work for THRUSH. He was, however, my favorite uncle and since his son was unable to bring you to justice, I have taken it upon myself to make certain that you pay for his death.’
She held a small caliber pistol in her hand, no longer attached to the notion of a bow and arrow for her vendetta.
“You, Mr. Kuryakin, are especially to blame for the demise of my family. Dear uncle Kurt was your first victim, my cousin Danby the second. And now, along with the head of THRUSH San Francisco and his wife, you and Mr. Solo will all be dealt the consequences of your acts.”
As Veronica raised her arm to take aim, a shot was fired from the hallway. Stunned but not fatally wounded, she fell to the floor in a heap. Behind her stood Ward Baldwin, raised from the nearly dead.
“Oh, Ward darling…”
Irene rushed to him, throwing her arms around the man who had just saved her life. The man who was her life.
Illya and Napoleon sat still, unsure whether or not to venture forward to see about Veronica or simply stay seated and finish their meal. Working among THRUSH was terribly disconcerting.
Two days later found Solo and Kuryakin seated at the big table that served their superior. The three of them were discussing the events in San Francisco, the nearly miraculous, or seemingly miraculous recovery of Ward Baldwin and the surprising duplicity of Veronica Revere.
“Well, perhaps not entirely surprising, given her family tree.”
Alexander Waverly harrumphed into his pipe as he spoke those words, unconcerned about the young woman’s fate. She had tried to kill his best men and the Baldwins. That was bad form in his book.
“Yes, well I suppose we might have paid closer attention to her, or the lack of her. She did disappear from sight rather quickly.”
Illya agreed. They had let that one slip past, an oversight that might have cost them dearly had it not been for Ward Baldwin.
“Do we now know why Ward Baldwin had such a timely recovery? He had seemed to be in a coma when we first looked in on him.”
Now it was Waverly who nodded his head.
“Ah, yes… Ward was not actually comatose, his doctors had isolated the poison and the antidote had been very effective. He was waiting for the assassin to make her move, and when she did … well, you know what happened.”
Yes, they did know. Napoleon and Illya exchanged a look that underscored how grateful they were for that small deception.
“So, what will happen to Vero… Miss Revere? She isn’t THRUSH, but certainly her movements were being monitored by them.”
Napoleon always had some reluctance to seeing women brought to justice; something about it just rankled his sense of chivalry. Illya, on the other hand, quite objected to almost being killed. He favored letting the authorities have the woman, and good riddance to her.
“I should think we will be well rid of her, Napoleon. I hope to never see another Voegler, regardless of the relationship. I have had enough of them to last a lifetime.”
Waverly’s pipe went out, causing him to fumble for another match and start the process again of lighting the briar.
“Yes, ah.. well … that will be all, gentlemen. Please have reports to me by tomorrow morning and … ah… good day.”
With that the agents made their way to the door and down the corridor. The grey walls didn’t reflect the moods carried by Solo and Kuryakin. Surviving another day, another dastardly villain… it did tend to put a bounce in a man’s step.
“Do you have the Grand Marnier?”
“As a matter of fact … yes. Your place?”
“Eight o’clock. We’ll drink to living through another one.”
They parted and went in opposite directions, but for now they were still on the same path.
~~~~~:
In spite of the dread brought on by the disclosures made by Irene Baldwin, Illya determined that he would not miss an opportunity to dine on San Francisco’s finest … Chinese takeout. He had found this city’s offerings to be the best of any he had tried, and regardless of whatever they might be facing tomorrow, tonight he would have Chinese food.
Irene had one of her attendants go and fetch the desired items so that the UNCLE agents could continue to speculate and plan. Ward slept on, unaware of what was going on around him and for him. If Napoleon could have changed anything, it would be the prospect of meeting yet another deranged Voegler. Their last encounter had been life threatening to the Russian, and the probability that this latest attack on Baldwin was related seemed irrefutable.
As the trio of conspirators prepared to eat from the various ubiquitous containers that always signified Chinese cuisine, the question on their minds was who it was that had engineered the attack on Ward. To the best of UNCLE’s research there was only one Voegler son, and he was dead. It was going to be difficult to find another person on whom to hang this deed if no other members of the family could be identified.
Irene was chewing on a crab Rangoon as she considered the problem at hand.
“Napoleon, Illya, I think that there must be a woman involved. It has all of the markings of a female’s plan. And now that I think about it, the only woman who has been near enough to infiltrate my home and surroundings is …
“Veronica Revere!” Both men let it out in a unified exclamation. Of course, why had they forgotten about her so quickly?
“She lured us to San Francisco under the pretense of this information she possessed, and was able to entice Irene and Ward to take her in and protect her. Clever young woman…”
Napoleon remembered the attractive Veronica, as did Illya. His impression of her was slightly less romantic, however.
“She must be connected to Voegler somehow…”
Just then the woman in question entered the dining room where the Chinese feast was taking place. It was perfectly timed, finding them all like this in the throes of discovery. She couldn’t have imagined it more perfectly.
“Yes, I am connected to Kurt Voegler. He was my other uncle, the one who didn’t work for THRUSH. He was, however, my favorite uncle and since his son was unable to bring you to justice, I have taken it upon myself to make certain that you pay for his death.’
She held a small caliber pistol in her hand, no longer attached to the notion of a bow and arrow for her vendetta.
“You, Mr. Kuryakin, are especially to blame for the demise of my family. Dear uncle Kurt was your first victim, my cousin Danby the second. And now, along with the head of THRUSH San Francisco and his wife, you and Mr. Solo will all be dealt the consequences of your acts.”
As Veronica raised her arm to take aim, a shot was fired from the hallway. Stunned but not fatally wounded, she fell to the floor in a heap. Behind her stood Ward Baldwin, raised from the nearly dead.
“Oh, Ward darling…”
Irene rushed to him, throwing her arms around the man who had just saved her life. The man who was her life.
Illya and Napoleon sat still, unsure whether or not to venture forward to see about Veronica or simply stay seated and finish their meal. Working among THRUSH was terribly disconcerting.
Two days later found Solo and Kuryakin seated at the big table that served their superior. The three of them were discussing the events in San Francisco, the nearly miraculous, or seemingly miraculous recovery of Ward Baldwin and the surprising duplicity of Veronica Revere.
“Well, perhaps not entirely surprising, given her family tree.”
Alexander Waverly harrumphed into his pipe as he spoke those words, unconcerned about the young woman’s fate. She had tried to kill his best men and the Baldwins. That was bad form in his book.
“Yes, well I suppose we might have paid closer attention to her, or the lack of her. She did disappear from sight rather quickly.”
Illya agreed. They had let that one slip past, an oversight that might have cost them dearly had it not been for Ward Baldwin.
“Do we now know why Ward Baldwin had such a timely recovery? He had seemed to be in a coma when we first looked in on him.”
Now it was Waverly who nodded his head.
“Ah, yes… Ward was not actually comatose, his doctors had isolated the poison and the antidote had been very effective. He was waiting for the assassin to make her move, and when she did … well, you know what happened.”
Yes, they did know. Napoleon and Illya exchanged a look that underscored how grateful they were for that small deception.
“So, what will happen to Vero… Miss Revere? She isn’t THRUSH, but certainly her movements were being monitored by them.”
Napoleon always had some reluctance to seeing women brought to justice; something about it just rankled his sense of chivalry. Illya, on the other hand, quite objected to almost being killed. He favored letting the authorities have the woman, and good riddance to her.
“I should think we will be well rid of her, Napoleon. I hope to never see another Voegler, regardless of the relationship. I have had enough of them to last a lifetime.”
Waverly’s pipe went out, causing him to fumble for another match and start the process again of lighting the briar.
“Yes, ah.. well … that will be all, gentlemen. Please have reports to me by tomorrow morning and … ah… good day.”
With that the agents made their way to the door and down the corridor. The grey walls didn’t reflect the moods carried by Solo and Kuryakin. Surviving another day, another dastardly villain… it did tend to put a bounce in a man’s step.
“Do you have the Grand Marnier?”
“As a matter of fact … yes. Your place?”
“Eight o’clock. We’ll drink to living through another one.”
They parted and went in opposite directions, but for now they were still on the same path.
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