You Don't Have A Partner Affair, Chapter VI
I hope that this is okay.
Illya Kuriakin fought the desire to start scratching his exposed skin as it reacted to the noxious fumes. One of the strangers looked at him, taking notes while the young Soviet resisted the urge to strip down to his birthday suit.
'Interesting. We didn't know that the combination of these chemicals could cause second-degree burns on contact. We're going to have to inform our contacts.'
Illya realized that the person wasn't speaking any language that he was familiar with, narrowing where they were from. He then tried asking once more about his friend and partner, Napoleon Solo.
"Where is Napoleon?"
"We're sorry but we cannot give you any alcohol, not even brandy. We were told that it's contraindicated. You could die if you drank anything but water."
Illya expressed his combination of discomfort and displeasure in a stream of invectives from every language that he knew.
**Napoleon, I will find you, then I will destroy these people!**
______________________________________________________________
Napoleon Solo slowly slid off of the seat of the vehicle he was in, then started involuntarily twitching, growing into a full-blown seizure. The man who was initially on Napoleon's right took out a clipboard, then started taking notes.
'This is unexpected. Our contacts didn't prepare us for this result.'
**I wonder if Illya understands what they're saying. Oh, God, give me back control of my body!**
His eyes rolled back as he lost consciousness, but not before he vomited on the vehicle's carpeting.
_________________________________________________________
April Dancer and Mark Slate faced a young man, April's arms crossed and Mark standing akimbo.
"We're going to ask you one more time. Where did you get this ring?" April's voice expressing her frustration with the prisoner.
"I don't know what you're talking about! I inherited it from my grandfather!"
"Mark?"
"Yes, April?"
"Should we show him what we do to liars and thieves?" Her lips curved into a Mona Lisa smile.
"Maybe after the Old Man is through with him. Or after Agents Morris and Baba Yaga are through..."
"Ah, that's true. Morris and Baba Yaga haven't had a decent scratching post for a while now. They need the exercise. I'll go get them." The first female Section 2 agent unfolded her arms, rose, then turned toward the only door to the interrogation room. She quickly grabbed the star sapphire ring before the prisoner could react, slipping it between her shoe and her stocking.
Illya Kuriakin fought the desire to start scratching his exposed skin as it reacted to the noxious fumes. One of the strangers looked at him, taking notes while the young Soviet resisted the urge to strip down to his birthday suit.
'Interesting. We didn't know that the combination of these chemicals could cause second-degree burns on contact. We're going to have to inform our contacts.'
Illya realized that the person wasn't speaking any language that he was familiar with, narrowing where they were from. He then tried asking once more about his friend and partner, Napoleon Solo.
"Where is Napoleon?"
"We're sorry but we cannot give you any alcohol, not even brandy. We were told that it's contraindicated. You could die if you drank anything but water."
Illya expressed his combination of discomfort and displeasure in a stream of invectives from every language that he knew.
**Napoleon, I will find you, then I will destroy these people!**
______________________________________________________________
Napoleon Solo slowly slid off of the seat of the vehicle he was in, then started involuntarily twitching, growing into a full-blown seizure. The man who was initially on Napoleon's right took out a clipboard, then started taking notes.
'This is unexpected. Our contacts didn't prepare us for this result.'
**I wonder if Illya understands what they're saying. Oh, God, give me back control of my body!**
His eyes rolled back as he lost consciousness, but not before he vomited on the vehicle's carpeting.
_________________________________________________________
April Dancer and Mark Slate faced a young man, April's arms crossed and Mark standing akimbo.
"We're going to ask you one more time. Where did you get this ring?" April's voice expressing her frustration with the prisoner.
"I don't know what you're talking about! I inherited it from my grandfather!"
"Mark?"
"Yes, April?"
"Should we show him what we do to liars and thieves?" Her lips curved into a Mona Lisa smile.
"Maybe after the Old Man is through with him. Or after Agents Morris and Baba Yaga are through..."
"Ah, that's true. Morris and Baba Yaga haven't had a decent scratching post for a while now. They need the exercise. I'll go get them." The first female Section 2 agent unfolded her arms, rose, then turned toward the only door to the interrogation room. She quickly grabbed the star sapphire ring before the prisoner could react, slipping it between her shoe and her stocking.