Rx for Success - PicFic 4/15/14

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

The street looked desolate, like something out of an Alfred Hitchcock film.  A few people straggled along the broken sidewalk, their meager purchases evident in paper sacks that weren’t brimming over.

Two men walked side by side, one in an expensive tailored suit, the other in black corduroy jeans and an oversized black sweater.  The former was well groomed and handsome; he looked out of place in front of the dilapidated old drug store.  The other fellow, smallish in stature with unkempt blond hair that was long enough to draw disapproving stares, even in this part of town.

“This is where we’re to meet Dr. Madison?  I would have thought he might prefer something...”  Illya Kuryakin paused to try and locate the appropriate word.

“Something less run down, scary, distasteful?”  Napoleon Solo found no reason to be less than honest about things not to his liking.

Kuryakin shot him a wary look, one of many he found necessary to implement while working with Solo.

“You really are so bourgeois Napoleon.  These are hard working people who have not the resources of the fortunates who inhabit the better parts of New York City.  I believe I would much prefer to dine with any one of them, rather than some snob whose appreciation of culture is only as deep as last season’s trends.

It was Napoleon’s turn to cut his eyes in exasperation.  The Russian did sometimes rub him the wrong way.

“Look Illya, I’m no snob, if that’s what you’re suggesting.  I just meant that, considering the man involved and his usual proclivities concerning luxury and ... well, more luxury, that this seems like an odd place for him to suggest.  I’m surprised he even knows it exists.”  Illya sighed.  Perhaps he had jumped on his favorite soap box just a little to quickly.

“I apologize Napoleon.  You are correct, the place seems incongruent with the Dr.’s normally fastidious tendencies.”  Having said that, Illya scanned the streets for any sign of their contact.  If all went well they would have a new conduit to THRUSH activities via the good doctor.  Why he would risk his life like this was the subject of yet another ongoing discussion.

“Okay, fine, let’s just find him and...”  The hum of activity around them was suddenly torn apart by the bang of a loud explosion.

“Over there, it came from that direction.” Illya pointed towards another building behind the old drug store, a newer high rise office that seemed out of place here on this block.

Napoleon took off at a run, hoping no one was hurt, wondering who might have done such a thing.  Was THRUSH involved?  Was it Dr. Madison?  He turned the corner to see a crowd of people looking at something on the sidewalk.  There was no billowing smoke, not a sign of damage anywhere that he could see.

“Excuse me...’ Napoleon worked his way through the crowd to arrive at its center.  What he saw made him nearly sick to his stomach.  It was a blackened corpse of a man, clutching at a briefcase that had, amazingly, withstood the heat of the flames.  A policeman approached him as he was just attempting to move in a little closer.

“Hey mister, you need to stay away from here.  Unless you know who this is.”  Illya was right behind him, shaking his head in a way that made Napoleon wary of the man.

“No. No I don’t know who this is, I just thought maybe... you know, if I could help in any way...”  He let that last trail off, as though actually contemplating the role of a good samaritan.  The police officer checked over his shoulder, not heeding the blond’s presence; he didn’t look dangerous.

“That’s good, Mr. Solo.  If you’ll just come with me...’ He put his hand on the gun he carried, a threat with meaningful intention... “I think Dr. Madison has already had his appointment cancelled.”  With a shrug of his shoulders and a look that never betrayed his partner’s approach, Napoleon looked all the world like a man being taken in by the faux policeman.

“Just do me one favor, will you?”  Napoleon’s request caught the man off guard, just enough to make him scrutinize his captive, never seeing the deft movement of the stealthy Russian.  The THRUSH goon went down in a heap with one karate chop, carefully placed so that nothing was damaged.  Napoleon was on his communicator summoning assistance before the man’s body hit the pavement.

“Yes sir, we’ll wait here for the team...  No sir, Dr. Madison is dead... Right.  Solo out.”

“Is that it then?”  Illya looked disappointed for the melee to have been short lived. An explosion not of his own doing, a dead informant and a pathetic excuse for a menace.  This little ‘mission’ held all the satisfaction of eating melted ice cream.

“Sorry tovarisch, no fun and games for you today.  I guess we’ll just have to chalk it up to bad timing on the doctor’s part.”  Illya looked puzzled.

“Timing?  I hardly think it is a matter of timing.  He was obviously the target here, so the timing was excellent, the mission, their mission, accomplished.”  Napoleon shook his head in frustration.

“Are you going to argue with me again.  I didn’t mean that ... Oh, never mind.  Are you hungry?  We can grab a bite to eat before going back to HQ.”  Walking out past the rubble surrounding their now deceased target, the two agents were again the complete antithesis of each other.  One dark, one light; one immaculately dressed and the other looking more like a socialist protagonist on leave from some mischief or other.

“Of course I am hungry. The masses are always hungry.”

“Sheesh!”

Opposites, but both of them smiling.

Comments

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Wow, I just love this line. "...the two agents were again the complete antithesis of each other. One dark, one light; one immaculately dressed and the other looking more like a socialist protagonist on leave from some mischief or other." That is a quintessential summary of the two men! Also love when Illya gets on his soap box.

Glad you jumped in with the Picfic, considering life's complications that are surrounding you.