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section7mfuI have to apologise up front for the, quite frankly, contrived way I’ve crowbarred the prompt in. If you squint you might just see it.
MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU
Part 1 - http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/809262.html
“I should have guessed.”
“Really, Darling?” Illya’s captor purred. “With all the enemies you have?”
“What do you want, Angelique?”
The platinum blonde took a seductive draw on her cigarette and blew the smoke into her captive’s face. The Russian refused to give her the satisfaction of making him cough, or even turning his head away.
“Napoleon took a microfilm my employers would dearly love to have,” she told him. “My idiots here were too late to grab him, so I took you instead.”
When Illya didn’t respond, she slapped him, hard. He barely flinched, keeping his gaze locked on hers.
“Do you honestly believe I’m worth the microfilm?” he asked incredulously. “Agents are expendable.”
“Maybe to Waverly, Darling, but I’m sure Napoleon values you.”
“Forget it Angelique,” he sneered. “He’ll probably attempt a rescue, but he won’t bring you what you want.”
“Napoleon is so much more fun than you are,” she huffed.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The party was still going when Solo arrived back at the hotel. Wishing to avoid the giggling debutantes from earlier, he went round to the service entrance and began asking around. He showed everyone Illya’s picture and, although everyone had seen him at some point, none of them saw him leave. Napoleon was about to give up searching the staff areas, when he was approached by a chef.
“Hey buddy!”
“Yes?” the agent replied, shooting his cuffs.
“You wouldn’t be Napoleon Single would you?”
“Solo.”
“Yeah, that’s what she said. A blonde dame asked me to give you this,” he told him, and handed him a folded note.
Napoleon thanked the man and opened the paper.
Napoleon Darling,
I have your dour little Russian. I’m sure you want him back, so call me on the number below and we can negotiate his release. I’ll try not to hurt him too much.
A
Ps. There is no point in trying to trace the number. The call is redirected.
He sighed inwardly. Angelique had been off his radar for a few a months, but she seemed to be back and just as dangerous as ever. For all Napoleon and she enjoyed each other, he had to remember she was still the enemy, and would do what she needed to. Angelique was the epitome of a femme fatale, and she was holding Illya. Quickly locating a telephone, Solo rang the number he’d been given.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Angelique had had Illya restrained into a different position, purely as a punishment for refusing to play her game. She’d tried teasing him, flirting with him, and even threatening him, but none of it elicited any real response from the man. There were few men who could resist her when she got really tried, and Kuryakin was one of those few.
After a painful struggle, resulting a split lip for the Russian, Angelique’s goons managed to chain him upright, and spread-eagled in chains attached to the ceiling and floor. She knew of his escapology talents, so was taking no chances. She’d also had him stripped of his jacket and shirt.
“May I let you into a little secret, Darling?” she cooed, as she stoked his chest. “I have no intention of handing you back.”
Illya continued to say nothing. Listening to the woman prattle on was beginning to grate on his nerves. What Napoleon saw in her, apart from the physically obvious, was completely beyond him. He tried to tune her out by concentrating on his surroundings. If by some miracle he could get out of his chains, he would need a plan of escape.
There were no windows which would suggest a basement or internal room. That didn’t really help him any and there was only one door that he could see. Other than the chair he had initially been tied to, the only other furniture was a table; on top of which were the standard tools of a THRUSH’s persuasion arsenal. The three goons were standing in three separate corners of the room; each with a gun trained on him. Illya wasn’t going anywhere. The sound of a telephone drew him from his musings.
“That will be our mutual friend,” the blonde purred.
“Hello Darling,” she said, after picking up the receiver. “I take it you got my little note.”
“It’s always nice to hear from you Angelique, but it isn’t nice to take things which don’t belong to you.”
“Oh don’t be like that Napoleon,” she replied sulkily. “I’m just going to play with him for a while. You have until Monday morning to bring me the microfilm you took this evening.”
“You know I can’t do that,” Solo told her. “You might as well let Illya go.”
“Darling, if you don’t do what I ask by Monday morning, then by Monday evening I can’t guarantee that Mr Kuryakin will still be here with us. Call again when you’re ready to comply and I’ll give you further instruction. If you need a little incentive, keep in mind that Darling Illya will be kept under constant torment until I have want I want. Goodbye Napoleon.”
Angelique hung up and crossed back to Illya.
“I do apologise, but you are in for a difficult time,” she informed him, with ill-concealed delight. “The longer it goes on, the more you can blame Napoleon.”
She clicked her fingers at the nearest goon. “Bring me the riding crop.”
To Be Continued.
MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU
Author’s note: - This is the first time I’ve written Angelique. Please let me know if I’ve hit the right note with her.
MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU
Part 1 - http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/809262.html
“I should have guessed.”
“Really, Darling?” Illya’s captor purred. “With all the enemies you have?”
“What do you want, Angelique?”
The platinum blonde took a seductive draw on her cigarette and blew the smoke into her captive’s face. The Russian refused to give her the satisfaction of making him cough, or even turning his head away.
“Napoleon took a microfilm my employers would dearly love to have,” she told him. “My idiots here were too late to grab him, so I took you instead.”
When Illya didn’t respond, she slapped him, hard. He barely flinched, keeping his gaze locked on hers.
“Do you honestly believe I’m worth the microfilm?” he asked incredulously. “Agents are expendable.”
“Maybe to Waverly, Darling, but I’m sure Napoleon values you.”
“Forget it Angelique,” he sneered. “He’ll probably attempt a rescue, but he won’t bring you what you want.”
“Napoleon is so much more fun than you are,” she huffed.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The party was still going when Solo arrived back at the hotel. Wishing to avoid the giggling debutantes from earlier, he went round to the service entrance and began asking around. He showed everyone Illya’s picture and, although everyone had seen him at some point, none of them saw him leave. Napoleon was about to give up searching the staff areas, when he was approached by a chef.
“Hey buddy!”
“Yes?” the agent replied, shooting his cuffs.
“You wouldn’t be Napoleon Single would you?”
“Solo.”
“Yeah, that’s what she said. A blonde dame asked me to give you this,” he told him, and handed him a folded note.
Napoleon thanked the man and opened the paper.
Napoleon Darling,
I have your dour little Russian. I’m sure you want him back, so call me on the number below and we can negotiate his release. I’ll try not to hurt him too much.
A
Ps. There is no point in trying to trace the number. The call is redirected.
He sighed inwardly. Angelique had been off his radar for a few a months, but she seemed to be back and just as dangerous as ever. For all Napoleon and she enjoyed each other, he had to remember she was still the enemy, and would do what she needed to. Angelique was the epitome of a femme fatale, and she was holding Illya. Quickly locating a telephone, Solo rang the number he’d been given.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Angelique had had Illya restrained into a different position, purely as a punishment for refusing to play her game. She’d tried teasing him, flirting with him, and even threatening him, but none of it elicited any real response from the man. There were few men who could resist her when she got really tried, and Kuryakin was one of those few.
After a painful struggle, resulting a split lip for the Russian, Angelique’s goons managed to chain him upright, and spread-eagled in chains attached to the ceiling and floor. She knew of his escapology talents, so was taking no chances. She’d also had him stripped of his jacket and shirt.
“May I let you into a little secret, Darling?” she cooed, as she stoked his chest. “I have no intention of handing you back.”
Illya continued to say nothing. Listening to the woman prattle on was beginning to grate on his nerves. What Napoleon saw in her, apart from the physically obvious, was completely beyond him. He tried to tune her out by concentrating on his surroundings. If by some miracle he could get out of his chains, he would need a plan of escape.
There were no windows which would suggest a basement or internal room. That didn’t really help him any and there was only one door that he could see. Other than the chair he had initially been tied to, the only other furniture was a table; on top of which were the standard tools of a THRUSH’s persuasion arsenal. The three goons were standing in three separate corners of the room; each with a gun trained on him. Illya wasn’t going anywhere. The sound of a telephone drew him from his musings.
“That will be our mutual friend,” the blonde purred.
“Hello Darling,” she said, after picking up the receiver. “I take it you got my little note.”
“It’s always nice to hear from you Angelique, but it isn’t nice to take things which don’t belong to you.”
“Oh don’t be like that Napoleon,” she replied sulkily. “I’m just going to play with him for a while. You have until Monday morning to bring me the microfilm you took this evening.”
“You know I can’t do that,” Solo told her. “You might as well let Illya go.”
“Darling, if you don’t do what I ask by Monday morning, then by Monday evening I can’t guarantee that Mr Kuryakin will still be here with us. Call again when you’re ready to comply and I’ll give you further instruction. If you need a little incentive, keep in mind that Darling Illya will be kept under constant torment until I have want I want. Goodbye Napoleon.”
Angelique hung up and crossed back to Illya.
“I do apologise, but you are in for a difficult time,” she informed him, with ill-concealed delight. “The longer it goes on, the more you can blame Napoleon.”
She clicked her fingers at the nearest goon. “Bring me the riding crop.”
To Be Continued.
MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU
Author’s note: - This is the first time I’ve written Angelique. Please let me know if I’ve hit the right note with her.
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Date: 2014-11-06 09:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-11-06 10:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-11-07 12:04 am (UTC)And I loved your little disclaimer at the beginning!
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Date: 2014-11-07 09:58 am (UTC)I'm glad Angelique worked.
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Date: 2014-11-07 01:29 am (UTC)I was right about the kidnapper being Angelique btw.
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Date: 2014-11-07 09:59 am (UTC)Next part will be up as soon as I've written it :-)
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Date: 2014-11-07 05:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-11-07 10:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-11-07 05:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-11-07 10:01 am (UTC)