"Happy New Year"-for the final PicFic Challenge of 2014- 12/30

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

This isn’t exactly how I planned to be ringing in the new year.” Napoleon Solo’s voice was strained given the fact he was tied up by the ankles, and hanging upside down from a meat hook; his tone wasn’t unexpected.

His breath could be seen easily as he and his partner were left in an abandoned warehouse along the East River, overlooking the Brooklyn Bridge.

“Less complaining and more wriggling my friend,” Illya Kuryakin said.  The Russian was swinging to and fro, attempting to gain momentum in order to raise the upper half of his body enough to grab the hook from which he hung with his hands.

He finally succeeded with a grunt, and while hanging and shifting his weight, he was able to lift his ankles from the heavy steel hook. No doubt it had supported the carcasses of many a side of beef as the warehouse was once used to process meat.

There was a lingering odor of perhaps rot, but was it from the years of slaughtered bovines or dead rats? It was hard to tell, but it was offensive none the less.

Illya held onto the hook for a moment before lowering himself to the floor as best he could before he hit it with a muffled thud.

“Hey a little help chum?” Napoleon looked his partner straight in the eye though upside down as Kuryakin sat on the floor beside him.

“You saw what to do, be my guest,” Illya proceeded to untie his ankles and with a click to the side of his shoe, a knife blade popped out from his right shoe tip.  He leaned forward, cutting the ropes on his wrist.

Napoleon tried swinging himself, eliciting a hiss of pain and unable to duplicate his partner’s maneuver.

“I’m not quite as limber as you tovarisch, pretty sure I have a broken rib or two. ” The look in the American’s eyes was somewhere between pain and frustration.”

“All right, since you asked so nicely,” Illya took hold of Napoleon’s shoulders and carefully raised him enough that he was able to lift his ankles from the hook.   Unfortunately it was an awkward position for the slender Russian and Solo dropped on top of him as they hit the floor like a sack of potatoes.

“Ouch,” Solo groused.

“Sorry, but at least you landed on top of me, now would you please get off so I might cut your ropes?”

Once free of him, Illya removed his shoe; easily slicing through his partner’s bindings with the knife blade.”

“Mr. Waverly isn’t going to be happy,” Solo rubbed his hands together trying to get some circulation going.

“Granted we were jumped,and even though it was a simple milk run; they got the microfilm.”

“That is not exactly true,” Illya smiled. He unbuttoned his shirt, and lifting his tee shirt beneath it, he exposed a scar on his abdomen.  He proceeded to peel it back.

“Voila...a microdot, much easier to conceal. I carried the microfilm as a ruse, I always bring an extra for jobs like this.”

“Very clever. Why didn’t you tell me it was a microdot?”

“It did not seem important at the time.”

Napoleon made a face at the Russian, rather than voicing his indignance.

So what was on the film they took from you?”

“Schematics for a mechanical Mickey Mouse doll.”

‘You didn’t?” Solo laughed.

“Yes I did, and once they manage to decipher the codes I included in order to construct it, which will take some time by the way; the completed Mickey will have eyes that glow a bright red. It will make the doll rather ominous looking, I imagine. It will also utter some nasty phrases in Russian about the chastity of their mothers.”

Solo chuckled at that description, just imagining the Thrushie’s faces when they heard that, or perhaps got the translation.

“Looks like they’ll be be ones who’ll be in trouble,” Napoleon looked at his wristwatch.”Hmm it’s nearly midnight.”

“Well happy New Year chum. If I have to be with someone to ring in the new year, I’m glad it’s you.”

“Really? I am touched. I thought you would have preferred the Walsh twins.”

“Did you have to bring them up? I did have a date with them tonight you know.”

“Well we all can not have everything we want,”Illya snickered.

Suddenly there was a loud boom, and both agent automatically ducked. Seconds later it was followed by another explosion and rapid crackling sounds.

“That is not ordinance, or gunfire...I know what that is,” Illya grinned.

“Fireworks,” Napoleon chimed in.

The partner’s headed out into the darkness, walking down to the pier, and sitting on the bulkhead side by side they watched a spectacular fireworks display high above the Brooklyn bridge.  It was the perfect vantage point and neither of them seemed concerned about the THRUSH agents returning.

It was a fine show, given the cloudy night sky, though the light of the moon was trying to break through.  Silhouetted against the historical bridge, the reflection of the pyrotechnics on the surface of the river made it an even more memorable sight.

The display lasted around twenty minutes or so but despite the cold, they agents remained, enjoying the sight.

When it was over Napoleon and Illya rose without a word, shook each others hands and headed off into the night to complete their mission; it was the last one of 1964.

Comments

[lindafishes8.livejournal.com]

Haha! “Schematics for a mechanical Mickey Mouse doll.” (chuckling some more) So we agree that THRUSH is a Mickey Mouse Organization?

Very good! Tricky Russian and his microdot!