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section7mfu2014-10-14 09:26 pm
jantojones.livejournal.com) wrote in section7mfu2014-10-14 09:26 pm
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Flour and Water (Chapter 3) - Picfic - October 14th
Chapter 1 - http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/755318.html
Chapter 2 - http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/761576.html
Illya couldn’t think. He felt as though his brain was shutting down and there was nothing he could do to prevent it. The trapped agent banged his hands, ineffectually, against the glass. Very quickly, his will was gone and his hands dropped to his sides. Illya had a vague awareness, but no longer had any real conscious thoughts.
Napoleon had a ridiculously tight grip on his rifle, willing himself to allow things to play out. He had an idea, but his whole plan hinged on Illya’s captor doing one particular thing.
The steam cleared to reveal a soggy and passive Russian. Miss Baxter unlocked the door and beckoned him out.
“Name?” She demanded.
“Illya Nickovitch Kuryakin.”
Evelyn Baxter laughed with joy. This was a name which was well known throughout THRUSH.
“You are an U.N.C.L.E. agent.”
“Yes.”
She laughed again; a harsh, maniacal cackle, which would be more suited in a horror B-movie. The capture of such a, top level, U.N.C.L.E. agent would be her ticket out of the dead-end backwater she’d been stuck in.
“From this moment on, you will obey any order given to you by either me, or anyone in this uniform, she told Illya, while pointing to Napoleon. “Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
That was the moment Napoleon was waiting for. Without giving any warning, he swung the butt of the rifle up into the guard’s face, knocking him out cold. He simultaneously ordered Illya to force his captor into the steam box. Momentarily stunned at the turn of events, Miss Baxter was unable to say anything. It wasn’t until Illya grabbed hold of her that she got a grasp of the situation.
“Take your hands off me!”
Illya’s arms immediately dropped to his sides again. Napoleon was aware that would happen, he’d merely been buying himself time to take out the guard. He pointed the rifle at Miss Baxter and ordered her not to say another word to Illya. As for the Russian himself, who was currently a bit of liability, he couldn’t think of anything else to do with him apart from stand him out of the way.
Napoleon indicated, with the rifle, for Miss Baxter to step into the box. Once she was inside, he started the steam flowing before turning back to Illya. It wasn’t the first time his partner had been reduced to a mindless state, but it was hard for Napoleon to not see the usual intelligent spark in the man’s eyes. A thought suddenly occurred to him.
“Illya, did you find anything about the substance in the office?” he asked. The fact his partner had said his name, and had answered in English, told Solo that he must still retain his knowledge.
“Yes,” Illya replied, flatly.
Napoleon smiled. “By the way, what is that woman’s name?”
“Evelyn Baxter.”
A truly terrible and shameful thought crossed Napoleon’s mind. With Illya in this state, he could ask him anything. All those things about his past, which he refused to discuss, could be brought into the open with one little question. Solo banished the thought as quickly as it had come. He would never breach Illya’s trust like that; it had taken too long to earn it.
As soon as the glass box was clear again, Napoleon released Miss Baxter and ordered her out. She complied immediately, meaning Solo could bring about a swift end to this assignment. He only hoped Illya and the townsfolk could be returned to normal.
MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU
Napoleon handed his report to Mr Waverly and sat down at the conference table. He waited until his boss had taken a quick glance before giving him a verbal version.
“The mill seems to have been in THRUSH hands for about six weeks,” he began. “God knows how much of the treated flour has entered the food chain. I have a team tracing it.”
“Do we know yet what the controlling substance is, Mr Solo?”
Napoleon turned to the page which named the substance, but didn’t even attempt to pronounce it.
“It took research two days, but they finally found out what it was and what it did. They have asked me to thank you for signing off on the new computer, by the way. Apparently without the new, faster system, it would have taken over a week.”
Waverly nodded an acknowledgement and waved a hand for the CEA to continue.
“They have concluded that the substance needs to be administered every two or three days for it to remain effective,” Napoleon explained. “Miss Baxter has been very helpful. She has confirmed that the substance is still in the experimental stage and the formula hasn’t yet been given over to THRUSH Central.”
“I take it that our own scientists will be continuing the research our feathered friends began?”
“Absolutely Sir,” Solo confirmed. “It will make interrogations a lot shorter.”
Mr Waverly pushed a file over to Napoleon. “I have good news of my own.”
Looking through the pages, Solo discovered that all the children from the town had been found and would be returned as soon as possible.
“They are all unharmed?”
“Yes,” Waverly acknowledged. “The older ones were to be sent to a THRUSH training facility, while the younger ones were to be sold for adoption.”
Napoleon sneered. Their long term enemy had no regard whatsoever for human life. The telephone next to Waverly began to ring and was quickly answered by the Old Man.
“Waverly. . . . . . That is excellent news doctor. . . . . I’ll send him down at once. . . . . Thank you, doctor.”
He hung up and turned back to Napoleon. “It would appear Mr Kuryakin has recovered himself. The doctor tells me he can be released from medical but needs to be watched by someone for at least another day.”
“That will be my cue.”
“You are both on leave for forty-eight hours,” Waverly told Napoleon, as the younger man stood up. “I suggest you hurry to medical. Doctor Evans made it clear that haste would be very much appreciated.”
Napoleon grinned.
MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU
Arriving in medical, Napoleon was greeted by Illya’s nurse.
“Good morning, Bridget. How are you this fine day?”
“Things will get a lot better when you have removed your partner from my presence,” she replied tersely. Then her tone softened. “I have to admit though; I would rather have him in his cranky state than that weird compliant state he’s been in. That was just creepy.”
“Tell me about it,” Napoleon agreed.
Poking his head around the door frame, more out of fear of flying objects than anything else, he saw Illya was dressed and ready to go.
“I am perfectly able to get myself home,” the Russian groused as soon as he noticed the American.
Napoleon had learned not to argue, as it just made the man grouchier. Instead, he simply bribed him.
“I have no doubt of that, Tovarisch,” he said, smiling. “But who would buy you lunch and then take you out for dinner?”
Illya wasn’t a stupid man, and didn’t particularly enjoy being treated like a child. However, Napoleon owed him at least five lunches and seven dinners, so was happy to play along.
“That will be agreeable my friend,” he replied. “But I think I will steer away from bread and cakes for a while.”
The End.
Chapter 2 - http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/761576.html
Illya couldn’t think. He felt as though his brain was shutting down and there was nothing he could do to prevent it. The trapped agent banged his hands, ineffectually, against the glass. Very quickly, his will was gone and his hands dropped to his sides. Illya had a vague awareness, but no longer had any real conscious thoughts.
Napoleon had a ridiculously tight grip on his rifle, willing himself to allow things to play out. He had an idea, but his whole plan hinged on Illya’s captor doing one particular thing.
The steam cleared to reveal a soggy and passive Russian. Miss Baxter unlocked the door and beckoned him out.
“Name?” She demanded.
“Illya Nickovitch Kuryakin.”
Evelyn Baxter laughed with joy. This was a name which was well known throughout THRUSH.
“You are an U.N.C.L.E. agent.”
“Yes.”
She laughed again; a harsh, maniacal cackle, which would be more suited in a horror B-movie. The capture of such a, top level, U.N.C.L.E. agent would be her ticket out of the dead-end backwater she’d been stuck in.
“From this moment on, you will obey any order given to you by either me, or anyone in this uniform, she told Illya, while pointing to Napoleon. “Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
That was the moment Napoleon was waiting for. Without giving any warning, he swung the butt of the rifle up into the guard’s face, knocking him out cold. He simultaneously ordered Illya to force his captor into the steam box. Momentarily stunned at the turn of events, Miss Baxter was unable to say anything. It wasn’t until Illya grabbed hold of her that she got a grasp of the situation.
“Take your hands off me!”
Illya’s arms immediately dropped to his sides again. Napoleon was aware that would happen, he’d merely been buying himself time to take out the guard. He pointed the rifle at Miss Baxter and ordered her not to say another word to Illya. As for the Russian himself, who was currently a bit of liability, he couldn’t think of anything else to do with him apart from stand him out of the way.
Napoleon indicated, with the rifle, for Miss Baxter to step into the box. Once she was inside, he started the steam flowing before turning back to Illya. It wasn’t the first time his partner had been reduced to a mindless state, but it was hard for Napoleon to not see the usual intelligent spark in the man’s eyes. A thought suddenly occurred to him.
“Illya, did you find anything about the substance in the office?” he asked. The fact his partner had said his name, and had answered in English, told Solo that he must still retain his knowledge.
“Yes,” Illya replied, flatly.
Napoleon smiled. “By the way, what is that woman’s name?”
“Evelyn Baxter.”
A truly terrible and shameful thought crossed Napoleon’s mind. With Illya in this state, he could ask him anything. All those things about his past, which he refused to discuss, could be brought into the open with one little question. Solo banished the thought as quickly as it had come. He would never breach Illya’s trust like that; it had taken too long to earn it.
As soon as the glass box was clear again, Napoleon released Miss Baxter and ordered her out. She complied immediately, meaning Solo could bring about a swift end to this assignment. He only hoped Illya and the townsfolk could be returned to normal.
MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU
Napoleon handed his report to Mr Waverly and sat down at the conference table. He waited until his boss had taken a quick glance before giving him a verbal version.
“The mill seems to have been in THRUSH hands for about six weeks,” he began. “God knows how much of the treated flour has entered the food chain. I have a team tracing it.”
“Do we know yet what the controlling substance is, Mr Solo?”
Napoleon turned to the page which named the substance, but didn’t even attempt to pronounce it.
“It took research two days, but they finally found out what it was and what it did. They have asked me to thank you for signing off on the new computer, by the way. Apparently without the new, faster system, it would have taken over a week.”
Waverly nodded an acknowledgement and waved a hand for the CEA to continue.
“They have concluded that the substance needs to be administered every two or three days for it to remain effective,” Napoleon explained. “Miss Baxter has been very helpful. She has confirmed that the substance is still in the experimental stage and the formula hasn’t yet been given over to THRUSH Central.”
“I take it that our own scientists will be continuing the research our feathered friends began?”
“Absolutely Sir,” Solo confirmed. “It will make interrogations a lot shorter.”
Mr Waverly pushed a file over to Napoleon. “I have good news of my own.”
Looking through the pages, Solo discovered that all the children from the town had been found and would be returned as soon as possible.
“They are all unharmed?”
“Yes,” Waverly acknowledged. “The older ones were to be sent to a THRUSH training facility, while the younger ones were to be sold for adoption.”
Napoleon sneered. Their long term enemy had no regard whatsoever for human life. The telephone next to Waverly began to ring and was quickly answered by the Old Man.
“Waverly. . . . . . That is excellent news doctor. . . . . I’ll send him down at once. . . . . Thank you, doctor.”
He hung up and turned back to Napoleon. “It would appear Mr Kuryakin has recovered himself. The doctor tells me he can be released from medical but needs to be watched by someone for at least another day.”
“That will be my cue.”
“You are both on leave for forty-eight hours,” Waverly told Napoleon, as the younger man stood up. “I suggest you hurry to medical. Doctor Evans made it clear that haste would be very much appreciated.”
Napoleon grinned.
MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU
Arriving in medical, Napoleon was greeted by Illya’s nurse.
“Good morning, Bridget. How are you this fine day?”
“Things will get a lot better when you have removed your partner from my presence,” she replied tersely. Then her tone softened. “I have to admit though; I would rather have him in his cranky state than that weird compliant state he’s been in. That was just creepy.”
“Tell me about it,” Napoleon agreed.
Poking his head around the door frame, more out of fear of flying objects than anything else, he saw Illya was dressed and ready to go.
“I am perfectly able to get myself home,” the Russian groused as soon as he noticed the American.
Napoleon had learned not to argue, as it just made the man grouchier. Instead, he simply bribed him.
“I have no doubt of that, Tovarisch,” he said, smiling. “But who would buy you lunch and then take you out for dinner?”
Illya wasn’t a stupid man, and didn’t particularly enjoy being treated like a child. However, Napoleon owed him at least five lunches and seven dinners, so was happy to play along.
“That will be agreeable my friend,” he replied. “But I think I will steer away from bread and cakes for a while.”
The End.
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