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section7mfuNapoleon's head ached. His captors had waited until they had walked him to their vehicle before chloroforming him. Turning onto his side to try and ease the accompanying nausea, he opened his eyes to see Mark sitting nearby clad in nothing but a pair of gym style short and staring ahead blankly. Before he could move over to check the younger man over, a voice rang out.
"Ah, excellent. Good of you to finally join us, Mister Solo. Mister Kuryakin has been patiently waiting for you to wake up. It seems Waverly didn't get my message plainly enough last time, but I'm sure the discovery of your bodies will convince him to leave my territory alone."
Napoleon was now alert enough to note that the remainder of his clothing had been taken and a pair of shorts similar to Mark's were the only thing available to pull on. He quickly did so, looking for the source of the voice and finally locating the speaker.
"And who might you be?"
"Ah yes, I have forgotten we have not yet been introduced. I am Ramiro Bedoya and you are in my home - El Cincuenta Gatos."
"Can't say much for your interior decorator."
"You are amusing, Mister Solo. I will admit to skimping on the money when it came to decorating the rooms of my temporary guests. In the case of yourself and Mister Kuryakin? Very temporary. Since I was unable to get any sort of useful information from either Derivaux or Kemp, I doubt I would be able to get anything from you or your partner either. Besides. I found the hunt highly enjoyable last time and I think I would prefer to go straight to the main event."
Two men came to the door, one of them spoke directly to Mark.
"Stand up and follow me."
Seeing the zombie-like compliance from Mark made Napoleon shudder and the disembodied voice laughed.
"That reminds me that I should actually send Waverly a thank you card attached to your bodies. Mister Kuryakin aided us in testing out the newest weapon in my arsenal. Follow along behind your partner, Mister Solo. How long he manages to live will be entirely up to you.
Bad feeling increasing by the second, Napoleon followed behind Mark as he was directed to stand by the edge of the swamp. Napoleon also had the distinct impression that this sight had been one Bob and Stan had faced. He also finally got his first look at Bedoya as the next command was given to Mark.
"Start walking."
Mentally cursing, Napoleon quickly saw what Bedoya had meant. If Mark was attacked or went into waters over his head? In his current condition, he wouldn't be able to save himself. It was up to Napoleon to keep him alive.
Not far away, Illya and April were surveying the estate and swamp through their field glasses.
"They're sending Mark and Napoleon into the swamp with hardly anything on, Illya. And Mark is acting very strangely. Almost like a sleepwalker."
Illya frowned at the different sight he was seeing
"We have armed men moving into position. I believe they plan to kill our partners in the swamp as they did the other two agents. Get your gun ready, April - we must not allow that to happen."
Nodding, April pulled out and checked her weapon.
"Should we switch to darts?"
"No. For once, the regular bullets will be much kinder. We are in a swamp. If we dart them, they will drown. Give them a cleaner death than that."
April suppressed a shudder at that mental image, then drew a deep breath.
"Them or our partners, right? Our partners win out."
One of Napoleon's fears came true as Mark stepped into a lower area and was completely submerged. He was grateful that Mark wasn't fighting against him, but it still was a struggle to get them both back above the surface. Mark immediately started coughing out the brackish water. Of course - he wasn't even in control enough that he would have held his breath.
Even as Napoleon leveled a whole new string of curses at Bedoya, Mark turned his head to look at him. He was still not his old self, but Napoleon was beginning to see signs of life in his eyes. A sudden shivering overtook Mark and he fell sideways. Napoleon reacted without thinking, grabbing for him. A second later, a sharp pain bloomed on the back of his shoulder as the sound of something striking drew his attention. A crossbow bolt was now sticking out of the side of a nearby tree.
To the shock of everyone in the area, a gunshot rang out a second later followed by the sound of a body hitting the water. A familiar voice rang out and Napoleon didn't know if Illya's voice had ever sounded sweeter.
"Napoleon! Keep yourself and Mark down."
Illya and April methodically took down the hunters who were still after Napoleon and Mark as Bedoya became increasingly rabid in yelling his orders from the sidelines. Illya eyed the man coldly and quickly began to alter his weapon as April continued to deal with the others. Changing his Walther into its carbine configuration was done with the ease born of hours of practice. Remembering how Derivaux and Kemp had been found, Illya had no qualms about lining up his shot and taking it.
The sudden silence from Bedoya drew the attention of his remaining men who scattered like rats without his presence holding them there. The task then was to get Napoleon and Mark out of the swamp water and to medical help as quickly as possible.
Two days later, all four of the agents entered through Del Floria's tailor shop, making their way to Mister Waverly's office. Mark still looked a bit worse for wear, but considerably better than he had when they'd finally gotten him out of the swamp.
Both Napoleon and Illya smiled thinly at the sight of Stuart Dixon in custody sitting in the outer office with his guards. As they entered the main office, Waverly immediately motioned them toward the chairs.
"Gentlemen- Miss Dancer. I see from the initial reports that the situation was a bit trickier than an out of control sub-chief. We seem to be fortunate that Mister Bedoya kept his cards close to his chest. According to the records found on his estate, he never shared the formula with THRUSH Central for that concoction he had used on Mister Slate. The water tower filled with that mixture has been dealt with and we have both the formula and the scientists who devised it under our watch now. Have the doctors certified you as clear from its effects, Mister Slate?"
"Yes, Mister Waverly. I hope we've seen the last of that stuff. Nasty all around. It was like being trapped inside of a car you had no control over."
"Indeed. While I regret that injuries to yourself and Mister Solo as well as the loss of two good men, I am grateful we were able to neutralize this threat before Bedoya implemented his plans."
"If we might know, sir, what were his plans?"
"Once he perfected the ratio of chemical to water, he planned to do a methodic tampering of public water sources. Bathing, showering, drinking, washing dishes - according to our laboratory, enough repeat exposures would eventually deaden upper brain functions to the point where independent thought would no longer be possible. The code name was Terminus."
Gesturing toward his door, Mister Waverly continued.
"Mister Dixon has confirmed that Agents Kemp and Derivaux were killed because they paid too much attention to the new water tower. I suspect they had the same questions that the two of you had regarding going to the expense of building a new tower when the other tower was still relatively new and serviceable."
Illya was still looking toward the door.
"And Dixon?"
"He will be attended to, Mister Kuryakin. His motives are the sort I have the least tolerance for."
Napoleon had a good idea what that was.
"Greed, sir?"
"Precisely, Mister Solo. As if money would have been of any use in the type of world Bedoya was intent on creating."
Moving back toward his desk, Waverly continued speaking.
"It is Thursday and, for a change, rather quiet in the scheme of things. I suggest the four of you take advantage of being free of both duty and medical and report back for duty first thing Monday morning. That is assuming, of course, that you have your reports finished on the Terminus affair before you sign out."
"Yes, sir, Mister Waverly."
It wasn't quite a stampede out of his office, but if there was such a thing as an orderly stampede, it would have been close. Alone again, Mister Waverly let out a soft chuckle as he removed the tea cozy from his teapot and refilled his cup. Were he a betting man, he would be willing to wager that particular set of reports would be filed in record time.
"Ah, excellent. Good of you to finally join us, Mister Solo. Mister Kuryakin has been patiently waiting for you to wake up. It seems Waverly didn't get my message plainly enough last time, but I'm sure the discovery of your bodies will convince him to leave my territory alone."
Napoleon was now alert enough to note that the remainder of his clothing had been taken and a pair of shorts similar to Mark's were the only thing available to pull on. He quickly did so, looking for the source of the voice and finally locating the speaker.
"And who might you be?"
"Ah yes, I have forgotten we have not yet been introduced. I am Ramiro Bedoya and you are in my home - El Cincuenta Gatos."
"Can't say much for your interior decorator."
"You are amusing, Mister Solo. I will admit to skimping on the money when it came to decorating the rooms of my temporary guests. In the case of yourself and Mister Kuryakin? Very temporary. Since I was unable to get any sort of useful information from either Derivaux or Kemp, I doubt I would be able to get anything from you or your partner either. Besides. I found the hunt highly enjoyable last time and I think I would prefer to go straight to the main event."
Two men came to the door, one of them spoke directly to Mark.
"Stand up and follow me."
Seeing the zombie-like compliance from Mark made Napoleon shudder and the disembodied voice laughed.
"That reminds me that I should actually send Waverly a thank you card attached to your bodies. Mister Kuryakin aided us in testing out the newest weapon in my arsenal. Follow along behind your partner, Mister Solo. How long he manages to live will be entirely up to you.
Bad feeling increasing by the second, Napoleon followed behind Mark as he was directed to stand by the edge of the swamp. Napoleon also had the distinct impression that this sight had been one Bob and Stan had faced. He also finally got his first look at Bedoya as the next command was given to Mark.
"Start walking."
Mentally cursing, Napoleon quickly saw what Bedoya had meant. If Mark was attacked or went into waters over his head? In his current condition, he wouldn't be able to save himself. It was up to Napoleon to keep him alive.
Not far away, Illya and April were surveying the estate and swamp through their field glasses.
"They're sending Mark and Napoleon into the swamp with hardly anything on, Illya. And Mark is acting very strangely. Almost like a sleepwalker."
Illya frowned at the different sight he was seeing
"We have armed men moving into position. I believe they plan to kill our partners in the swamp as they did the other two agents. Get your gun ready, April - we must not allow that to happen."
Nodding, April pulled out and checked her weapon.
"Should we switch to darts?"
"No. For once, the regular bullets will be much kinder. We are in a swamp. If we dart them, they will drown. Give them a cleaner death than that."
April suppressed a shudder at that mental image, then drew a deep breath.
"Them or our partners, right? Our partners win out."
One of Napoleon's fears came true as Mark stepped into a lower area and was completely submerged. He was grateful that Mark wasn't fighting against him, but it still was a struggle to get them both back above the surface. Mark immediately started coughing out the brackish water. Of course - he wasn't even in control enough that he would have held his breath.
Even as Napoleon leveled a whole new string of curses at Bedoya, Mark turned his head to look at him. He was still not his old self, but Napoleon was beginning to see signs of life in his eyes. A sudden shivering overtook Mark and he fell sideways. Napoleon reacted without thinking, grabbing for him. A second later, a sharp pain bloomed on the back of his shoulder as the sound of something striking drew his attention. A crossbow bolt was now sticking out of the side of a nearby tree.
To the shock of everyone in the area, a gunshot rang out a second later followed by the sound of a body hitting the water. A familiar voice rang out and Napoleon didn't know if Illya's voice had ever sounded sweeter.
"Napoleon! Keep yourself and Mark down."
Illya and April methodically took down the hunters who were still after Napoleon and Mark as Bedoya became increasingly rabid in yelling his orders from the sidelines. Illya eyed the man coldly and quickly began to alter his weapon as April continued to deal with the others. Changing his Walther into its carbine configuration was done with the ease born of hours of practice. Remembering how Derivaux and Kemp had been found, Illya had no qualms about lining up his shot and taking it.
The sudden silence from Bedoya drew the attention of his remaining men who scattered like rats without his presence holding them there. The task then was to get Napoleon and Mark out of the swamp water and to medical help as quickly as possible.
Two days later, all four of the agents entered through Del Floria's tailor shop, making their way to Mister Waverly's office. Mark still looked a bit worse for wear, but considerably better than he had when they'd finally gotten him out of the swamp.
Both Napoleon and Illya smiled thinly at the sight of Stuart Dixon in custody sitting in the outer office with his guards. As they entered the main office, Waverly immediately motioned them toward the chairs.
"Gentlemen- Miss Dancer. I see from the initial reports that the situation was a bit trickier than an out of control sub-chief. We seem to be fortunate that Mister Bedoya kept his cards close to his chest. According to the records found on his estate, he never shared the formula with THRUSH Central for that concoction he had used on Mister Slate. The water tower filled with that mixture has been dealt with and we have both the formula and the scientists who devised it under our watch now. Have the doctors certified you as clear from its effects, Mister Slate?"
"Yes, Mister Waverly. I hope we've seen the last of that stuff. Nasty all around. It was like being trapped inside of a car you had no control over."
"Indeed. While I regret that injuries to yourself and Mister Solo as well as the loss of two good men, I am grateful we were able to neutralize this threat before Bedoya implemented his plans."
"If we might know, sir, what were his plans?"
"Once he perfected the ratio of chemical to water, he planned to do a methodic tampering of public water sources. Bathing, showering, drinking, washing dishes - according to our laboratory, enough repeat exposures would eventually deaden upper brain functions to the point where independent thought would no longer be possible. The code name was Terminus."
Gesturing toward his door, Mister Waverly continued.
"Mister Dixon has confirmed that Agents Kemp and Derivaux were killed because they paid too much attention to the new water tower. I suspect they had the same questions that the two of you had regarding going to the expense of building a new tower when the other tower was still relatively new and serviceable."
Illya was still looking toward the door.
"And Dixon?"
"He will be attended to, Mister Kuryakin. His motives are the sort I have the least tolerance for."
Napoleon had a good idea what that was.
"Greed, sir?"
"Precisely, Mister Solo. As if money would have been of any use in the type of world Bedoya was intent on creating."
Moving back toward his desk, Waverly continued speaking.
"It is Thursday and, for a change, rather quiet in the scheme of things. I suggest the four of you take advantage of being free of both duty and medical and report back for duty first thing Monday morning. That is assuming, of course, that you have your reports finished on the Terminus affair before you sign out."
"Yes, sir, Mister Waverly."
It wasn't quite a stampede out of his office, but if there was such a thing as an orderly stampede, it would have been close. Alone again, Mister Waverly let out a soft chuckle as he removed the tea cozy from his teapot and refilled his cup. Were he a betting man, he would be willing to wager that particular set of reports would be filed in record time.
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Date: 2014-11-19 02:38 am (UTC)