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Genre: Gen Rating PG13 Feedback is always welcome. Please, Please! On or off list - up to you Artwork courtesy Agent Ross, Sepia and Ellen To visit Ellen's web page for more art-Click here. |
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The Breakfast Food Affair, part 1 of 1
By Vicki "Taz" Titus vhtitus98@yahoo.com
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When Illya arrived at HQ, he was surprised to find Napoleon was already in the small office they shared. Since Solo habitually arrived an hour after he did, the Russian wondered why his partner had chosen to come in early. Eyeing the American questioningly, he asked, "Are you in early today, or still up late from last night?"
Looking up from his paperwork, Solo replied, "I saw something in one of the substation surveillance reports yesterday that kept nagging at me. Thought I'd look at a few more." Returning his attention to the stack of reports before him, he continued to read and make notes about the information contained in the documents.
Because Napoleon read agent paperwork in batches, he often picked up clues that other agents missed. Today, he was rereading a series of reports from the Binghamton, New York airport observation post. The area had been identified as a possible site of Thrush activity, due to a business machines company that was slowly phasing in departments to sell user specific computer equipment. In the paperwork, there were reports from three different observers, noting the arrival and quick exit of Klaus Ingram, a Thrush logistics expert. After flying into the area, he had immediately rented a car and drove out of the area, heading north into neighboring Cortland County. Since a different agent had written each of the first three reports, no one noticed the pattern. The CEA had, however, as he had read the reports the day before.
Requesting all of the recent reports for the Binghamton substation be delivered to him this morning, he had continued to check for any further references to Ingram. It was not until one week ago that the first agent in the rotation noticed that the Thrush administrator had flown into the area again. Following him this time, the junior agent noticed he entered what looked like a recently completed factory in Cortlandville, the county seat. Checking further, the man had found the company supposedly specializing in the manufacturing of commercial breakfast foods, such as syrups and pancake batter and noted the information in his report to HQ.
Looking up from the paperwork, Napoleon glanced over at Illya and asked, "How do you feel about a ride in the country, partner?"
"Depends on who is driving," the Russian replied, deadpan, not even glancing in the other man's direction.
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Later that day, the agents arrived at the Binghamton airport, checking with the observer watching the passengers as they arrived and departed. From his position working in an U.N.C.L.E.-run car rental company, he could note the comings and goings throughout the facility. Procuring a late model convertible from the junior agent, the two men started north into nearby Cortland County, Illya behind the wheel.
Immediately registering at a remote hotel, they hurriedly ate dinner in the hotel restaurant. Following the meal, the pair returned to their room and changed into black turtlenecks and jeans, standard clothing for U.N.C.L.E. stealth operations. Traveling quietly on foot, they arrived quickly at a nearby hill overlooking the factory complex. From that vantage point, they could see the entire loading dock area. Although nothing seemed unusual, except for the almost complete lack of cars in the parking lot, the agents continued to observe the facility until nightfall, knowing that the darkness would provide excellent cover.
With the full moon to light their way, Solo and Kuryakin carefully navigated to the door to the loading dock. Using thermite to 'unlock' the back entrance to the facility, they entered the seemingly empty area. Turning on their flashlights, the partners moved into the immense and cavernous space.
The lack of personnel guarding the complex intrigued the agents. "I suppose the complex might not be fully operational at the moment," observed Kuryakin, wondering if the easy way they had gained access to the facility was a trap.
"We could have just gotten lucky, partner," responded Napoleon, smiling as he scanned the open area for any sign of danger.
"I never get lucky," snarled the Russian, frowning as he followed Solo.
"Any other time, I'd take that as a comment on your social life," smirked the brunet.
Shooting an icy glare at Napoleon's back, Illya continued to follow him through the open end of the loading dock. After reaching the few pallets sitting in the almost entirely abandoned area, they read the labels of the boxes, using the flashlights for illumination.
"Mind-away," commented Kuryakin, shining his flashlight across the words. "That doesn't sound like a typical food additive to me."
"Only in a Thrush factory, I suspect," replied Solo.
The Russian's scientific curiosity was piqued by the package. "Wonder what it does?" he mused, trying to locate any directions for its use written on the label.
"With a name like mind-away, I suspect it temporarily leaves the person less than coherent," the CEA responded, amused by his partner's intensive inspection of the information on the package.
"You mean like certain men around a beautiful woman?" Illya asked, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"Or certain scientists with a new gadget?" returned Napoleon, smiling indulgently at the blond as he wiggled his eyebrows, Groucho Marx style.
Shaking his head, Kuryakin returned his attention to the package in front of him. Solo, meanwhile, inspected the remaining boxes for any other non-food items.
Once the inspection of the pallets was completed, the agents proceeded out of the loading dock into the darkened main section of the factory.
A few steps after they crossed the threshold of the double doors leading to the factory floor, a bank of overhead floodlights snapped on, blinding them. Even as their eyes adjusted to the now bright room, they could hear approaching footsteps. Turning in the direction of the sound as their vision cleared, the agents found a group of three Thrush musclemen advancing on them from the right. Noting the odd set of 3, Solo quickly realized that Thrush was also using the facility as a training station until it became fully operational. "Rookies," he yelled to Kuryakin as they dived behind one of the eight-foot tall vats arranged haphazardly throughout the production floor.
Tentatively placing a hand on the vat in front of him, Illya reported, "Cool to the touch," as he attempted to aim at one of the guards.
"This must be the packaging area," concluded Napoleon, peering over the top of the vat the two men were using for cover.
In the shootout that followed, the agents were able to dart the three men with ease after their eyesight adjusted to the intense light. Peering around one of the vats, both agents noted that there was another door to the right of the double doors. Crouching in the entryway of that second, single door was another set of three men, ready to pick off anyone who stepped in front of the loading dock double doors. "Cut off," yelled Napoleon, darting one of the guards as he scanned the area for an alternate escape route. Spying chains looped around what he guessed was the main entrance to the manufacturing area, he realized that escape would have to be by some other, less traditional route. As he considered what step to take next, a larger group of six men ran out of the single doors to lurk behind the nearby vats.
"So much for the vaunted Solo luck," grumbled Illya as he tried to look between the vats for some sign of the thugs. "Any suggestions on which way to go?"
"This way," Napoleon declared, tugging slightly on his partner's turtleneck sleeve before he began to run in the direction of a catwalk ladder than rose above the production floor. "We can use it to get out one of those windows."
Both men charged up the ladder, Solo in the lead. As they hurried toward the windows, the mob of thugs following them split into two groups. One continued to follow the agents while the other ran to the back catwalk ladder. Quickly, the two agents found their path blocked both ways, the Thrush guards peering over the top of the stairway landing as they clung to the sides of the ladder.
Realizing they were out in the open with no cover, Solo considered their next move. Although no more guards were rushing onto the production floor, he knew that they were obvious targets, even for Rookie Thrushies.
Glancing over the edge of the catwalk, the agents saw giant vats, filled with various colored liquids, below them. Waving toward the containers, Napoleon commented graciously, "After you, partner."
"At least it's food," grumped Illya, as he climbed over the catwalk's protective railing amid the gunfire. Taking a calming breath, he could smell the odor of strawberries rising from the tank below him. Strawberry syrup, he concluded as he jumped into the container, attempting to hold his pistol above the sugary liquid. Aiming himself toward the side of the vat, he grabbed the lip of the container to shield himself as he began to return fire.
Watching the Russian dive off the catwalk into the red vat, Solo decided to use the container next to it as his target to allow each of them a wider field of vision. The vat was filled with a shiny yellowish substance and was closer to him that the other one was. Also stepping over railing, Napoleon jumped into the container, making sure to shield his gun from the liquid in the tank. Napoleon realized as soon as the slimy mixture touched his skin that he had jumped into French toast batter, a mixture of synthetic eggs and milk that stuck to the material in his clothing, matting it down against him. Moving as best he could in the food-covered clothing with one hand above the surface, he also reached the side of his vat.
The change in location also changed the odds of the gun battle. Now, the guards were in a precarious position, with little or no cover. Acting quickly, they were able to dispatch the half dozen men surrounding the catwalk, leaving their eventual disposition to a cleanup team they would call in soon as they got out of the factory.
The pair climbed out of their respective vats quickly and headed toward the loading dock, leaving a trail of yellow and red splotches on the manufacturing floor. As they made their way through the cavernous area and out of the building, Napoleon smiled at the shorter man. "There is one saving grace to all this," he observed.
Illya shot his partner an icy glare, as if daring him to come up with a bright spot in the middle of the chaos. The sticky liquids from the vats had completely covered every inch of their clothing, plastering the various items against their skin.
Laughing, Solo explained, "At least I wasn't wearing a suit this time."
© 2003 Taz