Pax Romana ~ Part One
Aug. 3rd, 2012 12:35 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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section7mfuSummary: Napoleon finds mischief and trouble when he returns to Kenny’s Castaways. Here’s the cat fight you all asked for folks, as well as answers to other questions.
" Surprise Surprise" http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/83299.html
"We’ve got to stop meeting like this" http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/83709.html part one
http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/85009.html part two
"Pax Romana" the conclusion http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/90365.html part one
http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/91076.html part two
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Napoleon Solo stepped up to the side walk from the steps at Del Floria’s. It was three in the morning and the street lights created sharp shadows across the front of the building.
A trickle of sweat ran down his face as it was hot and oppressively humid. He draped his suit jacket over his shoulder while he waited for an UNCLE taxi to appear from the parking garage. There was still enough traffic on the street to create the usual din of horns periodically blaring, and engines roaring in a city that never really slept.
Napoleon was feeling tired, but restless as he’d just finished his reports with his partner regarding their last mission to South America. “Gervais Ravel, ahhh,” he sighed, deadly and beautiful ...he let his thoughts drift to where they shouldn’t have; leaving him now hotter as well as bothered. He wanted sex.
No self respecting woman would be around this time of the morning, at least no woman he knew. He wasn’t one for dealings with prostitutes, except to give a polite hello to the local ladies of the evening. He knew them all by name.
They understood he didn’t want their sort of services and left him alone for the most part, but they also knew he was a good egg as he’d slip them some cash for a meal when the tricks were bad and their funds were low.
Napoleon hopped into the taxi once it arrived and settled in for the short ride home.
“Your apartment Mr. Solo?”
“Yes Jimmy, no... take me to Kenny’s Castaways on Bleeker Street.”
“Right away Mr. Solo.” The young driver from the motorpool knew better than to say anything. Section II agents kept the oddest hours and went to some weird places even at this time of the morning.
Mr. Kuryakin, usually went off to those jazz clubs in the middle of the night to ‘unwind’ when he returned home from assignments with his partner. Jimmy had just returned from dropping him off at some place called Arthur’s Tavern in the West Village.
The taxi pulled up to the address in minutes; traffic was lighter this time of the day. “You want I should wait for you Mr. Solo?”
“No Jimmy, I’ll be fine. You’re about ready to go off duty aren’t you?” He asked, taking a glance at his watch.
“Yes, sir...it’s been a long, quiet night. I could use some shut eye.”
“You do that, and thanks,” he smiled, as he stepped out from the taxi, and walked to the door of the club. It was the middle of the week, and well past the time any band would be playing.
Why he suddenly felt compelled to come to this place, he had no idea. The last time he’d been here was over a year ago, when Julie Jones had drugged him, trying to make Illya and him part of her climb up the ladder of success with T.H.R.U.S.H.
Napoleon sat at the bar, ordering himself a scotch on the rocks as he surveyed the near empty club.
He spotted three women, with hair in varying shades of blonde, seated at a booth back in the corner and smiled. Perhaps this was going to be a lucky night after all?
Picking up his drink; he sauntered to the table. “Hello ladies,” he crooned, with his usual dulcet toned voice, dropping it down an octave. “My name is Solo, Nap...” He was cut off in mid-sentence when three all too familiar faces turned to greet him.
Angelique La Chien, Serena and Julie Jones.
“Why Napoleon darling, what in the world are you doing here?” Angelique spoke with her velvety smooth accent.
“Good question. May I join you?” He asked, figuring what the heck.
‘Be our guest,” Serena replied, as she lit up a cigarette for herself. “Care for one Napoleon?”
“Only if you promise it’s not filled with a knockout gas.” He smiled warily.
“For once it isn’t,” she smiled back innocently, handing the menthol KOOLs over to him.
He tapped one out of the pack, but refused her cigarette lighter, choosing to use his own. He pressed a small button at its base one time, activating a homing signal to notify U.N.C.L.E. Security where he was at the moment. It wasn’t a ‘come and rescue me beacon,’ but one telling them to keep an eye on him. If he pressed the button a second time, it would tell them he was in need of help. It didn’t hurt to be cautious under the circumstances.
Of the three, Angelique was the only one who watched him and knew what he was doing, but she said nothing; theirs was a unique relationship, one of friendly adversaries...very friendly. This off chance meeting would be neutral to her, no shenanigans. The other two, however, were another story.
Illya detested Angelique, unable to understand why Napoleon continued to have his nocturnal rendezvous’ with a female who wouldn’t hesitate to kill him if she needed to. Perhaps it was the thrill of that very danger that kept Napoleon going to bed with her. He always had to keep himself on his game even in bed with a woman, but someone as deadly and delicious as Angelique kept things spicy, that ramped up his game even higher.
Serena on the other hand was more vicious than her mentor Angelique. He’d slept with her only once and, had it not been for his partner’s intervention, might have ended up with a knife in his back.
He glanced across the table at Julie, noting she looked much better as a blonde than she had as a redhead and wondered if she’d been invited to be a part this Thrush’s women only assassin’s club. That was her plan, but the question remained: Was she still masculine in any way?
She looked pretty good, her skin seemed much smoother, and her makeup, just like the last time they’d met, was impeccable.
“Julie, how are you?” He eyed her cautiously. “Not going to try to kidnap me tonight are you?”
She smiled coyly. “Thank you, I’m ‘completely’ well and no, at least not tonight, I promise.”
Napoleon immediately got her drift she’d finally had her surgery. There was something different about her, but he wasn’t sure if the word ‘serenity’ fit her mood, and her tone of voice was more calm and assured, and not the cocky banter she used a year ago.
The four of them made idle chatter about the ‘Great Train Robbery’ in England as it had been dubbed, when £2.6 million had disappeared at Bridego Railway Bridge, Ledburn near Mentmore in Buckinghamshire, barely a week ago.
“What a girl couldn’t do with that?” Julie murmured.
“Darling, play your cards right and you’ll have a tidy little sum tucked away for yourself in no time,” Angelique purred. “Remember T.H.R.U.S.H. does pay better than U.N.C.L.E.”
“Cute Angelique. Speaking of money, you didn’t have... I mean T.H.R.U.S.H. didn’t have anything to do with the robbery...did you?” Napoleon boldly asked them.
Angelique laughed. “Dearest, if we did, do you think we’d be sitting in this dismal bar drinking...what is it we’re drinking, Serena my pet?”
It’s called a ‘Red Army’...made with vodka, triple sec and raspberry Créme de Framboise.”
“Hmmm,” Angelique smiled at Napoleon, “ Speaking of the Red Army, where is that insipid little partner of yours? Is he lurking in the shadows like a voyeur, watching us?
“Little?” Giggled Serena, “He is far from that.”
“Oh that’s right you dirty little girl, you had your way with him Serena darling, didn’t you? But I’m sure he doesn’t hold a candle to our dear Napoleon here.”
“Ladies please, I am sitting here...you’re embarrassing me, just a little,” he grinned at them sheepishly, yet a huskiness crept into his voice.
“Napoleon Solo, embarrassed?” Julie laughed at him. “You hardly seemed the type to be that when I met you last year. You seemed more pompous to me.”
“Well there was a little braggadocio under duress, you understand.” He downed his Scotch and ordered another round for all of them, noting at this point, the three of them were getting a little tipsy...
“Tell me what sort of delicious duress was it? Were you in bed with our little Julie here? Did she ensnare you with her feminine charms, or was it the other way around?” Angelique egged him on.
It seemed Angelique and Serena had no idea about Julie having once been physically a man, and that Napoleon found a bit surprising, as Angelique rarely overlooked the smallest of details. Still it was not his place to say anything. Julie was...Julie and not Julius. That was obvious to him now.
He looked at her again, and realized how much more curvaceous she’d become in the right places. She was, to say the least, a knockout.
Julie looked at him with pleading eyes, asking him silently not to reveal her secret.
“I umm, well we only kissed.” He admitted.
“Kisssed!” Serena giggled, “So that means that you have kissed each of usss. Tell me Nappy, who’s the best kisser?”
Napoleon squirmed in his chair knowing his answer could get him in trouble. “I abstain on the grounds that one or all of you might shoot me.” That sent the birds into a fit of drunken cackles.
A bottle of champagne later Napoleon found himself out back in the alley along with his three feathered companions.
They insisted upon having a kissing contest, and who was he to turn them down? He sniffed and cleared his throat as he leaned his shoulder casually against the brick wall, waiting for them to iron out the details of their challenge. Though he’d imbibed a fair amount of alcohol, he’d slowed his pace, wanting to keep his wits about him, while the lady-birds became more drunk. This at least made him feel comfortable enough to submit to their request to judge them in their contest. In the end, he was hoping it would mean he’d get to spend the night with Angelique.
The rules were established; one kiss and they could whisper what ever they wanted into his ear.
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