Author: Kei

Warning: Slash, Violence

Pairing: Napoleon Solo / Illya Kuryakin

Rating: R

Archive: Sure, if you don't mind.

Disclaimers: The Man from UNCLE characters belong to MGM -I'm just borrowing them, and no profit is being made. Please don't sue me -I'm still poor.

Notes: This is a MFU story set in the "present" -nooo, they're not any older. (Hey, Superman has been 29 for over 60 years
and James Bond has been mid-thirtyish for over 30!)

THE WILDING AFFAIR, Part 1
 
 

0400 hours.

Four in the morning.

Whatever way that one put it, it was either too late or too early to be out of one's bed. A long, uncontrollable yawn
broke the relative quietude of the surveillance van, a vehicle crowded with various pieces of instrumentation,
listening devices, and one weary UNCLE agent.

Mark Slate stuffed a curled fist against his open mouth as another yawn, longer than the first, distorted his face. He
pressed the right earphone of his headset closer to his  temple, his brow puckered by a frown of weary frustration as
once again, one of the electronic bugs secreted on the  premises of THRUSH's new Toronto satrap transmitted the odd
mutter...the random sound. How did the saying go? Not a  creature was stirring, not even a mouse?

Even THRUSH seemed to be keeping more reasonable hours than this agent. Probably no-one up and about besides cleaning
staff.

Just then, there was a familiar ratta-tat-tat on the outside of the van and the door slid open to permit the entry of his
partner, April Dancer. "Sorry I'm late, Mark," she said with a slight grin. "Thought you could use this."

Slate eagerly accepted the insulated Starbucks coffee mug, taking a grateful whiff of the aroma of a double espresso.
"Ta, luv... I was just thinking that I could murder a cuppa just 'bout now. You must be a mind reader."

"Or maybe we've been partnered too long?" April said with a slightly teasing smile. "Anyhow, just remember -the next coffee run is yours -this place isn't cheap." The odor of a non-fat mocha joined that of espresso as another cup was removed from cardboard carrying tray as she settled down beside her partner. "Anything interesting yet?"

"If you mean about what they're doing in that lab of theirs -not a bloody thing. Far as I can figure, there's some kind of
scrambling field in the lab and anyone who comes out of it doesn't talk about what goes on inside. I just wish I knew what
Waverly- eh up?"

April put aside her cup, immediately alert. "What is it?"

"Dunno... Some kind of fracas maybe. Let me see if I can..." A frown darkened Slate's face as he pulled the earphones from his head and turned on the van's internal speakers. At first, they could  only hear the seemingly distant, muffled sounds of human voices -*angry* voices- but then, as the gain was increased- "No, I KNOW what you're all thinking! You're against me -ALL of you!"

Dancer mouthed silent bewilderment and Slate could only shrug his shoulders. The now shrill male voice continued its verbal  tirade, other more soothing voices failing to placate its manic owner. "I'll stop you -I'll stop ALL of you!"

April and Mark all but recoiled in horror and disbelief as hidden bugs transmitted the sudden repeated explosions of what had to be an Uzi submachine gun being fired again and again, the awful sound of human screams...

...and then silence.  Just...silence.
 
 
 

*Starbucks* is an American trademark.