House of Monkeys - PicFic 7/22/14

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

Bear with me... Most of the references to the photo are pretty oblique, but maybe not invisible.  This story began with last week's PicFic and continued with the entry on Wednesday for our April-centric story day.  And... this isn't the conclusion.

April Daze
In With A Bang, Out With A Whimper
~~~~~:~~~~~:~~~~~:~~~~~:

Seated around the big table were Mr. Waverly, Napoleon Solo, Illya and April and Mark Slate.  The information concerning this mission was almost non-existent, something that would soon be rectified.

“Gentlemen, Miss Dancer... ahem...’ Waverly fiddled with a folder in front of him, opening it to the page he wanted.   An amused expression was punctuated by the raising of one bushy eyebrow.

“Are you, any of you, familiar with a designer based in London that goes by the name of Monkey House?”  April nodded yes as Illya rolled his eyes.  What was coming next, impersonating a designer?

“Ah, well.  The two people responsible for this label are having some success, and are backed by someone from THRUSH, and I need two of you to infiltrate this business and do something about it.

All eyes were on the Old Man, all ears were waiting for a name.

“Oh, that would be Miss Dancer and Mr. Kuryakin, of course.”  Napoleon was surprised at the choice of his partner on an assignment involving fashion design.

“Ah... sir, if I may...” Waverly smiled; it was the smile that let the entire room know he was aware of everything, every thought or concern.

“Mr. Solo, I have chosen Mr. Kuryakin because he will find a familiar face with Monkey House ...’ Waverly glanced down at the page in front of him.  “A Daryl Mulrooney.  I believe you knew him at Cambridge, did you not?”  Now he was looking at Illya, who in turn was reliving a moment from so many years ago it felt like someone else’s memory.

“Yes sir, I did know someone by that name, but... Sir, are you certain that this is the same Daryl Mulrooney?  As I recall he was a scientist, with a very promising career in front of him in the field of ...”

“Physics,' said Mr. Waverly.  "And as you well know, what you plan for in one’s youth does not always materialize when cast into the world.”  Illya was keenly aware of that, and the irony of finding Daryl Mulrooney in the back pocket of THRUSH.

April was intrigued at the opportunity to infiltrate a fashion house...  This might be her dream assignment.

“Mr. Waverly sir, what exactly will Mr. Kuryakin and I be doing in this business?   I do have a little modeling experience, if that will help.”  Illya was sure it would help, but all he had to offer was a very old acquaintence with Daryl Mulrooney.

“Actually Miss Dancer, although I am sure you were a fine model .. uh, that will not be necessary.  No, you and Mr. Kuryakin are going to be portraying yourselves as designers... married designers who are looking for a way to enter the British market.‘  Illya groaned inwardly, although the idea of spending time with April had a certain appeal.

“Mr. Kuryakin will play himself, more or less; a Russian who has fled to the United Kingdom in order to pursue his dream.  Helping him with that is his American born wife who was living in London and chasing a similar dream.”

“Oh, the two met, fell in love and started designing clothes together.‘ April thought it sounded just fine, although she could sense Illya’s apprehension.

“I think we should do a very good job of this, Mr. Waverly.  And, in all honesty, I do know fashion.”  Waverly grinned at the young woman’s attitude.

“Indeed, Miss Dancer, I have no doubt that you will play your part to perfection.  Mr. Kuryakin...”  Illya waited, but it seemed as though he was expected to speak.

“Sir?  I fear I am not as well acquainted with the subject as Miss Dancer, but of course i will ...”

“Oh, come now Mr. Kuryakin, there is no need to be modest.  I believe you have some experience from which to cull a reasonable portrayal of an up and coming fashion designer.”  The wizened features challenged the younger man to deny it, as near to a smirk as he would ever display.

Illya sighed with a resignation born of experience.  Of course Mr. Waverly would have known about his foray into design back in his Paris days.  He had rubbed shoulders with several of the now prominent names in fashion, had even managed to collect a portfolio of drawings and show them to one or two people.  That stash of drawings was still in his possession, something that begged to be viewed periodically, much like photographs of one’s travels.

“Yes sir, I suppose I can manage something.”  Chyort!  Illya had not counted on his past dalliance with that world to collide with the one he currently occupied.  He might have actually done well enough to make some sort of living if not for the demands on his life and time to return to service; both the Soviet Union and UNCLE had laid claim to them.

Waverly smiled again; it was good for these young people to deal with their past in small increments, but if any of it could aid the greater needs of the Command...

“Very well then.  You have all of the pertinent information within those files.  I suggest you study them, and the people involved.  Mr. Solo, you and Mr. Slate will be operating as back up, monitoring ... whatever needs doing.‘   Keen eyes peered up through the droopy brows.

“That is all.  Oh, Mr. Kuryakin, you will have a studio at your disposal that is supplied with fabrics and two seamstresses.  I suggest you put together some sketches on the flight over.”  Illya was nearly speechless.

“Sir? I am expected to actually design?”  Waverly put down the file he had  begun to peruse.

“Mr. Kuryakin, can you or can you not complete this assignment?”  Napoleon had been sitting throughout this meeting with more unanswered questions than he dared ask.  Now the room grew very silent as they all waited for Illya’s response.

“Yes, of course sir, I can and will.  I shall collect a sketchbook en route to the airport.”

“No need, you will find one waiting for you at the reception desk.”  Illya nodded, he acquiesced to the inevitable.  Well, he had known this assignment was going to be unusual, ‘not business as usual’ was what he had been told.

Very well.

As the foursome exited the Great Man's office, Napoleon sidled up beside his partner, anxious to ask so many questions and a little fearful of the repercussions.  April and Mark huddled in a discussion about the coming days, predictably curious about Illya and Paris.

“So, a little moonlighting in the rag business, eh? I wonder that you never told me about this Illya.”  A sideways glance and a quickened pace challenged Napoleon to continue, but then Illya stopped midstep and turned towards him.

“Knowledge of that business has served me well on several occasions while in the employ of UNCLE, as it will on this one.’ Shrugging his shoulders in a dismissive gesture, the blond smiled as he began to visualize the character he would become.

“I believe this will be a very interesting assignment.’’ He looked over to April and caught her eye, receiving a wink and a smile in return.

Yes, very interesting.

Comments

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Oh this is just too perfect a backstory to him eventually entering the 'Vanya Years." I'm thoroughly enjoying this and looking forward to the next installment....whereever you decide to put it. Drabble, Wednesday's child, What's my line or in 2 weeks...Picfic again.

PS tying in the prompt with Monkey House was perfect. It would make a great logo for the London design house!

[laurose8.livejournal.com]

An excellent scene in itself. And a pleasant addition indeed for its reflection of canon. I enjoyed both Illya and April's povs; and I enjoyed Waverly's enjoyment, too.

Now I greedily want a AH where it's House of Vanya and April.

[jantojones.livejournal.com]

I'm continuing to love this story and this part was fantastic. I think Mr Waverly was enjoying IK's discomfort.