Laugh Until You Die (Part 3)
Nov. 19th, 2014 10:16 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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section7mfuDr Barrie pulled the sheet over the face of Helen McKenzie. Despite his best efforts, he had been unable to save her. He still didn’t know what he was dealing with and, as much as the death saddened him, he hoped her autopsy might enlighten him.
Nurse Redfearn began to tidy away the equipment which had been used to try and keep Helen alive. She hadn’t really known her, but to her way of thinking, Miss McKenzie wasn’t supposed to die in the line of duty. It was hard enough when an agent was lost, but they voluntarily risked themselves. Helen had worked in communications.
“I have to report to Mr Waverly,” Dr Barrie told her. “Please could you organise Miss McKenzie’s move to the morgue.”
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Illya was bringing the car to a stop, as they arrived close to their destination, just as Napoleon’s communicator beeped.
“Solo.”
“I have unhappy tidings,” Mr Waverly said sombrely. “Miss McKenzie has passed away.”
Napoleon glanced over at his partner. Illya was already blaming himself, thinking he hadn’t acted sooner. This news would not be taken well by him. Solo could already see, by the fire in his friend’s eyes, that the assignment had become personal. If the CEA didn’t keep a careful rein on the Russian, then in all likelihood, Kent would not be alive when they brought him in.
“Does the doc know anything yet, Sir?”
“Not as yet,” Waverly answered, with a tinge of regret. “Dr Barrie will be performing an autopsy shortly. Get to the bottom of this affair quickly, Mr Solo.”
“What’s your strategy?” Kuryakin asked, after the conversation ended. He had an edge to his voice which Napoleon knew all too well.
“He’s going to be expecting us, given everything he’s done to get our attention.”
Napoleon looked over at their target. Kent had led them to a two storey brick built structure in the middle of seemingly abandoned farmland. There was a little cover from the trees which line the driveway.
“You go left and to the back, I’ll go to the right and front.” Solo instructed. “Don’t forget, he’s better to us alive.”
“Don’t worry, Napoleon,” Kuryakin snapped back at him. “I am a professional.”
“Calm down, Tovarisch,” the American soothed. “I just know you can get a little gung-ho when you’re riled.”
“Gung-ho?”
“Just keep your head, Partner Mine, that’s all I’m asking.”
Illya knew Napoleon was talking about. He had to admit himself, that he was taking Miss McKenzie’s death personally, even though he’d hardly known her. When he’d demolished the Canadian Satrap, Kent had been inside. He shouldn’t have survived. Each man checked his weapon, and then got out of the car. Illya darted across the road to reach the cover on the other side; they then began their stealthy walk to the house.
From an upstairs window in the building, Malcolm Kent watched as the two U.N.C.L.E. agents made their way towards him. He wasn’t particularly interested in Solo, but capturing him could go a long way with getting him back into the hierarchy. Illya Kuryakin was the prize he was after. The man had been the one who’d set the explosives and destroyed his satrap. His boss had been killed, but Kent had managed to get to their hidden escape tunnel. The obliteration of the base hadn’t gone down well with THRUSH Central, and Kent had barely escaped from them with his life.
It had taken a few months, but he finally had a plan to take revenge on Kuryakin, as well as a new weapon. Kent had been ready to implement his scheme for a few weeks, but needed to find a way to draw Kuryakin to him. In the end, fate had stepped in to help.
Kent had been drinking coffee in a diner when his attention was grabbed by a conversation nearby.
“If both Mr Solo and Mr Kuryakin were to ask you on a date, which would you choose?”
“I really don’t think you should be saying their names so freely in public, Helen.”
“They can’t be the only ones with those names.”
“Do you know of any others? Even if there are, I doubt they’d know each other.”
“Ok, I get your point. So who would you choose?”
“Mr Solo, obviously.”
Kent had immediately made a move. Greeting both ladies and asking Helen if she would like to meet him for dinner. She’d been unsure at first, but he assured that he would pay for her cab home, if it would make her feel safer. After that it had been easy. It only took a couple of days for him to persuade her to let him give her a ride to work and back. After two weeks, however, nothing seemed to be happening. He could only assume that the entrance Helen used wasn’t as consistently monitored as the tailor shop entrance. It meant a change of plan but that was okay. It would also give him the opportunity to show all of U.N.C.L.E. his new weapon. He was going to wait until he had Kuryakin, but it didn’t really matter.
It had surprised him how agreeable Helen had been to being dropped off outside Del Floria’s, but there was no point in questioning it. Kent had felt slightly remorseful at his plan to kill her; she’d actually been fun. His secondary plan had gone without a hitch and he would shortly have Kuryakin in grasp.
The two agents, ignorant of being watched, reached their destinations. At the back of the building, Illya quickly picked the lock and entered a kitchen. Drawing his weapon, he slowly made his way through the next door. That was the last thing he knew.
Napoleon broke into the front of the building just as quickly as his partner. He found himself in the main living area, which looked as though someone had been there recently. Continuing on, Solo went through the only other door in the room. Just like Illya, he didn’t get far before consciousness was taken from him.
To Be Continued.
Nurse Redfearn began to tidy away the equipment which had been used to try and keep Helen alive. She hadn’t really known her, but to her way of thinking, Miss McKenzie wasn’t supposed to die in the line of duty. It was hard enough when an agent was lost, but they voluntarily risked themselves. Helen had worked in communications.
“I have to report to Mr Waverly,” Dr Barrie told her. “Please could you organise Miss McKenzie’s move to the morgue.”
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Illya was bringing the car to a stop, as they arrived close to their destination, just as Napoleon’s communicator beeped.
“Solo.”
“I have unhappy tidings,” Mr Waverly said sombrely. “Miss McKenzie has passed away.”
Napoleon glanced over at his partner. Illya was already blaming himself, thinking he hadn’t acted sooner. This news would not be taken well by him. Solo could already see, by the fire in his friend’s eyes, that the assignment had become personal. If the CEA didn’t keep a careful rein on the Russian, then in all likelihood, Kent would not be alive when they brought him in.
“Does the doc know anything yet, Sir?”
“Not as yet,” Waverly answered, with a tinge of regret. “Dr Barrie will be performing an autopsy shortly. Get to the bottom of this affair quickly, Mr Solo.”
“What’s your strategy?” Kuryakin asked, after the conversation ended. He had an edge to his voice which Napoleon knew all too well.
“He’s going to be expecting us, given everything he’s done to get our attention.”
Napoleon looked over at their target. Kent had led them to a two storey brick built structure in the middle of seemingly abandoned farmland. There was a little cover from the trees which line the driveway.
“You go left and to the back, I’ll go to the right and front.” Solo instructed. “Don’t forget, he’s better to us alive.”
“Don’t worry, Napoleon,” Kuryakin snapped back at him. “I am a professional.”
“Calm down, Tovarisch,” the American soothed. “I just know you can get a little gung-ho when you’re riled.”
“Gung-ho?”
“Just keep your head, Partner Mine, that’s all I’m asking.”
Illya knew Napoleon was talking about. He had to admit himself, that he was taking Miss McKenzie’s death personally, even though he’d hardly known her. When he’d demolished the Canadian Satrap, Kent had been inside. He shouldn’t have survived. Each man checked his weapon, and then got out of the car. Illya darted across the road to reach the cover on the other side; they then began their stealthy walk to the house.
From an upstairs window in the building, Malcolm Kent watched as the two U.N.C.L.E. agents made their way towards him. He wasn’t particularly interested in Solo, but capturing him could go a long way with getting him back into the hierarchy. Illya Kuryakin was the prize he was after. The man had been the one who’d set the explosives and destroyed his satrap. His boss had been killed, but Kent had managed to get to their hidden escape tunnel. The obliteration of the base hadn’t gone down well with THRUSH Central, and Kent had barely escaped from them with his life.
It had taken a few months, but he finally had a plan to take revenge on Kuryakin, as well as a new weapon. Kent had been ready to implement his scheme for a few weeks, but needed to find a way to draw Kuryakin to him. In the end, fate had stepped in to help.
Kent had been drinking coffee in a diner when his attention was grabbed by a conversation nearby.
“If both Mr Solo and Mr Kuryakin were to ask you on a date, which would you choose?”
“I really don’t think you should be saying their names so freely in public, Helen.”
“They can’t be the only ones with those names.”
“Do you know of any others? Even if there are, I doubt they’d know each other.”
“Ok, I get your point. So who would you choose?”
“Mr Solo, obviously.”
Kent had immediately made a move. Greeting both ladies and asking Helen if she would like to meet him for dinner. She’d been unsure at first, but he assured that he would pay for her cab home, if it would make her feel safer. After that it had been easy. It only took a couple of days for him to persuade her to let him give her a ride to work and back. After two weeks, however, nothing seemed to be happening. He could only assume that the entrance Helen used wasn’t as consistently monitored as the tailor shop entrance. It meant a change of plan but that was okay. It would also give him the opportunity to show all of U.N.C.L.E. his new weapon. He was going to wait until he had Kuryakin, but it didn’t really matter.
It had surprised him how agreeable Helen had been to being dropped off outside Del Floria’s, but there was no point in questioning it. Kent had felt slightly remorseful at his plan to kill her; she’d actually been fun. His secondary plan had gone without a hitch and he would shortly have Kuryakin in grasp.
The two agents, ignorant of being watched, reached their destinations. At the back of the building, Illya quickly picked the lock and entered a kitchen. Drawing his weapon, he slowly made his way through the next door. That was the last thing he knew.
Napoleon broke into the front of the building just as quickly as his partner. He found himself in the main living area, which looked as though someone had been there recently. Continuing on, Solo went through the only other door in the room. Just like Illya, he didn’t get far before consciousness was taken from him.
To Be Continued.
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Date: 2014-11-20 01:23 pm (UTC)I'm still trying to prevent it from straying into season 3 territory, which is easier said than done.
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Date: 2014-11-20 01:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-11-20 01:35 pm (UTC)