Laugh Until You Die (Part 5 - Conclusion)
Nov. 22nd, 2014 08:20 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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section7mfuPart 1 - http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/822662.html
Part 2 - http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/824608.html
Part 3 - http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/825602.html
Part 4 - http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/826955.html
Dr Barrie took the seat which was gestured to. He placed the file, containing his finding, on the circular desk and spun it to Mr Waverly. The Old Man glanced through it, before asking the doctor for a translation.
“Basically Sir, we’ve found something which seems to be intended to suffocate a person from the inside,” Barrie told him. “The chemicals appear to be designed to react with the lungs, causing congestion.”
“Where does the laughing come in?”
“We honestly don’t know,” the doctor admitted. “We are assuming it is simply a side effect. The labs are currently working on an antidote in case it is released to the general populace.”
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
In spite of sounding as though he were enjoying himself, Illya was on the verge of a panic attack. He fought wildly at the straps holding him, but they weren’t budging. In the cage, Napoleon had fished a lock-pick from out of the heel of his shoe and was sitting on the floor, working at releasing the cuffs. He looked over at Illya and saw the panic in his eyes.
“Illya, look at me,” he commanded. “Look at me!”
The Russian turned his gaze to his partner, desperately trying to stop the chuckling.
“I’ll be out of here soon, Tovarisch,” Solo assured him. “Stop struggling and save your strength. I know you’re scared right now, but I’m going to get you out.”
Illya tried to answer, but the chuckling wouldn’t allow the words to form properly. He settled for a nod to let Napoleon know his promises were helping him to calm down. While he waited for his rescue, Illya concentrated on breathing around the laughter. He was still able to breathe relatively normally, but it was going to get difficult soon.
Once he was certain his partner had relaxed a bit, Napoleon quickly got the cuffs off and started on the lock off the cage. It took him barely a few seconds. As soon as he was free, he was by Illya’s side. The laughing coming from the man was creepy. Under normal circumstances, a person who was laughing would look happy; Illya just looked terrified. Solo ripped the mask from his partner’s face, and then quickly freed him from his bonds. He helped him to sit up and asked if he would be able to walk on his own.
“Yeah,” Kuryakin managed to get out.
“Okay, if you’re sure. Give me a second, I have a feeling there’s something in that cabinet which will help.”
Pulling open the door, Napoleon was presented with several vials of what he assumed was the substance. He turned to Illya to show him, only to see that the Russian’s expression had turned to ice. Solo knew that look, and also knew nothing was going to stop Illya from taking personal revenge. Waverly probably wouldn’t be happy, but then he didn’t need to know.
“With you laughing like that, there’s no way we’ll be able to sneak up on him,” Napoleon stated. “I think it would be better if you lay back down and I’ll make it look as though you’re still strapped down. I’ll get back in the cage.”
The American filled a syringe with the substance and handed it to Illya.
“I know this probably goes against the good guy ethic, but if you want to kill him, I won’t stop you. After the way he used Helen, he deserves it.”
“Waverly?” Illya asked between laughs. They were becoming stronger.
“The report will show you killed Kent in self-defence.”
It was about half an hour before Kent reappeared. Napoleon had spent the time trying to distract Illya and keep him calm. For the most part, he was relatively successful. When their captor finally came back in, he showed no indication of sensing anything amiss.
“Why, My Kuryakin, you do seem to be having a jolly time,” he said, in his annoyingly calm tone. “Don’t worry, you’ve got plenty more hours of fun and laughter ahead of you.”
Illya made his move. He brought his right hand up, and in one move, stabbed the syringe into Kent’s stomach and depressed the plunger. The effect was instantaneous. He went rigid, and then began to laugh hysterically. The inability to breathe properly, coupled with abject terror, caused him to hyperventilate quickly. The last thing Malcolm Kent heard was the sound of Illya Kuryakin laughing. Napoleon observed his partner, and even he couldn’t be certain if the laugh was chemically induced or genuine.
“Time to go Illya,” Solo prompted. “I’ll call for a clean-up crew on the way back.”
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
By the time Napoleon got Illya back to HQ, his laughing had become full-blown and breathing was becoming a problem. As with Helen, the medics took the decision to sedate Illya and place him on a ventilator.
“The lab is preparing an antidote, Mr Solo,” Dr Barrie told the pacing CEA. “Hopefully it will be ready before . . .”
“Before he dies!” Napoleon snapped. “Sorry Doc.”
“We have it!” yelled a man in a lab coat, as he ran into Illya’s room. “However, we haven’t had time to test it.”
“We’ll need permission from Mr Waverly to give something untested to a Section 2 agent,” Dr Barrie said.
“Then get it!”
It was a further two hours before they discovered whether it had been successful or not. Illya woke feeling disorientated and, in a panic, automatically reached for the tubing which had been aiding his breathing. Napoleon was instantly out of his chair. He placed a calming hand on Illya’s and called for the medic. Within minutes, the ventilator was removed and Illya smiling.
“I’m not laughing,” he stated hoarsely, but happily.
“You’re not,” Solo agreed. “Next time someone claims that you’re miserable, at least we can tell them you’ve laughed enough for a lifetime. What did it feel like?”
“Forgive me my friend,” Illya said quietly. “I don’t wish to talk about the details yet. All I want to know is, when can I get out of here?”
“Not yet, Mr Kuryakin.”
The agents looked the doorway as Mr Waverly entered.
“The doctor may have cured one problem, but he tells me you’ll have to wait until your lungs a fully clear. Don’t worry, young man, it shouldn’t be more than a day or two. Mr Solo, I expect your report sooner than that.”
“Yes Sir.”
“I have just recieved a verbal report from the clean-up team,” the Old Man continued. “It would appear that Mr Kent was injected with his own substance. Would you care to enlighten me as to how?”
“Self-defence,” Napoleon replied, a little too quickly. “We got free and Kent attacked Illya.”
Two bushy eyebrows met in an expression of suspicion. Alexander Waverly could read his agents much better than they assumed. He wouldn’t go so far as to accuse either of them of murder, but he knew he wouldn’t find the truth in their reports.
“Probably for the best,” he muttered, “Get back to us as soon as you’re able, Mr Kuryakin.
“He didn’t believe you,” Illya commented, after their boss had gone.
“I never expected he would, but I doubt he’ll push the issue,” Napoleon told him, as he made to leave. “Anyway, some of us haven’t got time to lie around; I’ve got a report to write.
He left the room, and then stuck his head back round the doorframe.
“Enjoy your jello.”
He managed to avoid the pillow which was thrown at him.
The End.
Part 2 - http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/824608.html
Part 3 - http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/825602.html
Part 4 - http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/826955.html
Dr Barrie took the seat which was gestured to. He placed the file, containing his finding, on the circular desk and spun it to Mr Waverly. The Old Man glanced through it, before asking the doctor for a translation.
“Basically Sir, we’ve found something which seems to be intended to suffocate a person from the inside,” Barrie told him. “The chemicals appear to be designed to react with the lungs, causing congestion.”
“Where does the laughing come in?”
“We honestly don’t know,” the doctor admitted. “We are assuming it is simply a side effect. The labs are currently working on an antidote in case it is released to the general populace.”
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
In spite of sounding as though he were enjoying himself, Illya was on the verge of a panic attack. He fought wildly at the straps holding him, but they weren’t budging. In the cage, Napoleon had fished a lock-pick from out of the heel of his shoe and was sitting on the floor, working at releasing the cuffs. He looked over at Illya and saw the panic in his eyes.
“Illya, look at me,” he commanded. “Look at me!”
The Russian turned his gaze to his partner, desperately trying to stop the chuckling.
“I’ll be out of here soon, Tovarisch,” Solo assured him. “Stop struggling and save your strength. I know you’re scared right now, but I’m going to get you out.”
Illya tried to answer, but the chuckling wouldn’t allow the words to form properly. He settled for a nod to let Napoleon know his promises were helping him to calm down. While he waited for his rescue, Illya concentrated on breathing around the laughter. He was still able to breathe relatively normally, but it was going to get difficult soon.
Once he was certain his partner had relaxed a bit, Napoleon quickly got the cuffs off and started on the lock off the cage. It took him barely a few seconds. As soon as he was free, he was by Illya’s side. The laughing coming from the man was creepy. Under normal circumstances, a person who was laughing would look happy; Illya just looked terrified. Solo ripped the mask from his partner’s face, and then quickly freed him from his bonds. He helped him to sit up and asked if he would be able to walk on his own.
“Yeah,” Kuryakin managed to get out.
“Okay, if you’re sure. Give me a second, I have a feeling there’s something in that cabinet which will help.”
Pulling open the door, Napoleon was presented with several vials of what he assumed was the substance. He turned to Illya to show him, only to see that the Russian’s expression had turned to ice. Solo knew that look, and also knew nothing was going to stop Illya from taking personal revenge. Waverly probably wouldn’t be happy, but then he didn’t need to know.
“With you laughing like that, there’s no way we’ll be able to sneak up on him,” Napoleon stated. “I think it would be better if you lay back down and I’ll make it look as though you’re still strapped down. I’ll get back in the cage.”
The American filled a syringe with the substance and handed it to Illya.
“I know this probably goes against the good guy ethic, but if you want to kill him, I won’t stop you. After the way he used Helen, he deserves it.”
“Waverly?” Illya asked between laughs. They were becoming stronger.
“The report will show you killed Kent in self-defence.”
It was about half an hour before Kent reappeared. Napoleon had spent the time trying to distract Illya and keep him calm. For the most part, he was relatively successful. When their captor finally came back in, he showed no indication of sensing anything amiss.
“Why, My Kuryakin, you do seem to be having a jolly time,” he said, in his annoyingly calm tone. “Don’t worry, you’ve got plenty more hours of fun and laughter ahead of you.”
Illya made his move. He brought his right hand up, and in one move, stabbed the syringe into Kent’s stomach and depressed the plunger. The effect was instantaneous. He went rigid, and then began to laugh hysterically. The inability to breathe properly, coupled with abject terror, caused him to hyperventilate quickly. The last thing Malcolm Kent heard was the sound of Illya Kuryakin laughing. Napoleon observed his partner, and even he couldn’t be certain if the laugh was chemically induced or genuine.
“Time to go Illya,” Solo prompted. “I’ll call for a clean-up crew on the way back.”
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
By the time Napoleon got Illya back to HQ, his laughing had become full-blown and breathing was becoming a problem. As with Helen, the medics took the decision to sedate Illya and place him on a ventilator.
“The lab is preparing an antidote, Mr Solo,” Dr Barrie told the pacing CEA. “Hopefully it will be ready before . . .”
“Before he dies!” Napoleon snapped. “Sorry Doc.”
“We have it!” yelled a man in a lab coat, as he ran into Illya’s room. “However, we haven’t had time to test it.”
“We’ll need permission from Mr Waverly to give something untested to a Section 2 agent,” Dr Barrie said.
“Then get it!”
It was a further two hours before they discovered whether it had been successful or not. Illya woke feeling disorientated and, in a panic, automatically reached for the tubing which had been aiding his breathing. Napoleon was instantly out of his chair. He placed a calming hand on Illya’s and called for the medic. Within minutes, the ventilator was removed and Illya smiling.
“I’m not laughing,” he stated hoarsely, but happily.
“You’re not,” Solo agreed. “Next time someone claims that you’re miserable, at least we can tell them you’ve laughed enough for a lifetime. What did it feel like?”
“Forgive me my friend,” Illya said quietly. “I don’t wish to talk about the details yet. All I want to know is, when can I get out of here?”
“Not yet, Mr Kuryakin.”
The agents looked the doorway as Mr Waverly entered.
“The doctor may have cured one problem, but he tells me you’ll have to wait until your lungs a fully clear. Don’t worry, young man, it shouldn’t be more than a day or two. Mr Solo, I expect your report sooner than that.”
“Yes Sir.”
“I have just recieved a verbal report from the clean-up team,” the Old Man continued. “It would appear that Mr Kent was injected with his own substance. Would you care to enlighten me as to how?”
“Self-defence,” Napoleon replied, a little too quickly. “We got free and Kent attacked Illya.”
Two bushy eyebrows met in an expression of suspicion. Alexander Waverly could read his agents much better than they assumed. He wouldn’t go so far as to accuse either of them of murder, but he knew he wouldn’t find the truth in their reports.
“Probably for the best,” he muttered, “Get back to us as soon as you’re able, Mr Kuryakin.
“He didn’t believe you,” Illya commented, after their boss had gone.
“I never expected he would, but I doubt he’ll push the issue,” Napoleon told him, as he made to leave. “Anyway, some of us haven’t got time to lie around; I’ve got a report to write.
He left the room, and then stuck his head back round the doorframe.
“Enjoy your jello.”
He managed to avoid the pillow which was thrown at him.
The End.
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Date: 2014-11-22 08:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-11-22 12:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-11-22 06:50 pm (UTC)PS, loved the jello remark at the end. So very Napoleon. Not really cruel, just the style of benign banter between the two, as they just have to dig at each other.
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Date: 2014-11-22 07:17 pm (UTC)I'm glad it worked out well. I was a little worried about having Illya more or less murdering Kent, but decided it's what he probably would do.
Remind me not to attempt a 'written on the fly' story for a while, LOL.
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Date: 2014-11-22 07:37 pm (UTC)I'm had both of them kill in cold blood in a couple of my stories...though it's more out of character for Solo than it is Kuryakin,
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Date: 2014-11-22 07:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-11-22 08:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-11-23 02:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-11-23 08:42 am (UTC)