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section7mfu
Prompted by: Immrama~Paul Muldoon
From the mud-walled cabin behind the mountain
The agent watched through binoculars, a pair of men talking within a poorly built hovel on the outskirts of Córdoba, Argentina.
One, an older man, of Latin origins held his hat in his hands, groveling to a white man.
He was hawkish in his features, and his posture military-like.
.
The farm where he was first hired out,
Illya scrambled through the dense growth of the jungle in search of his partner. He’d gathered the information needed to prove who that hawk-faced man was while the Russian posed as a worker on the man’s plantation.
And once Kuryakin discovered his true identity, he fled with the news.
.
It became personal when it did.
His memories of long ago were again triggered by it. A concentration camp...the trainloads of people who came but never left alive. The children he’d tried to save, and the friend he’d lost. Irina... *
It made his breath quicken, and his heart pound as he began to run.
.
That's him on the verandah, drinking rum with a man who might be a Nazi,
“Illya, over here,”Solo called. “What’s wrong?”
“That man, kill him.”
“Why?”
“He is a murderer of thousands,” Illya gasped.
“How do you know?”
“I know...”
Napoleon Solo raised his carbine, drawing a bead.
“Illya I can’t...”
“Then I will.” He grabbed the gun and fired.
It was done...
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Newsletter for Friday, August 2nd
Date: 2013-08-03 05:34 am (UTC)Re: Newsletter for Friday, August 2nd
Date: 2013-08-03 07:06 am (UTC)