Chapter 3
by Jatona.
Illya swallowed hard and forced himself to quell the rising fear inside.
He had studied this man's file, checked other sources, enough to know that
this was one of THRUSH's best. Despite this he continued to stare.
The American definitely deserved his reputation as 'The Stud of THRUSH'.
One would have to be totally blind not to notice him. The dark Italian
beauty were evident in the classically handsome features; the shoulders
were broad; the body that covered his was lean and
masculine; the dark hair that crowned the high forehead in ringlets
and ended at the nape of the strong neck.
"Are you all right?" Solo asked, his voice filled with concern.
"I am well, thank you." Illya replied, looking away from those dark eyes with great reluctance. "What do you want with me, Captain Solo?", he demanded as an afterthought.
Solo considered his answer carefully as he indulged in some visual exploration
of his own. To say that the Russian was handsome would be a gross
understatement. Beautiful was still small but adequate. The
sky blue eyes had seemed to bore into his very soul. The thinness
of the lips only enhanced their sensuality. He could feel the hidden
strength in the slight body beneath his and recognized it as a deadly force
to be reckoned with. Solo found himself quite reluctant to relinquish
his
position, however, a small crowd was gathering. "Look,
can we discuss this in a more private setting?" he asked.
Illya bristled. "Ah, is that the price for my life, Captain? Will that be rape or torture?"
Solo ignored the sarcasm in the blonde's voice. "Whatever, Illya Kuryakin. Your place or mine?" he snapped.
Illya remained calm. "Do not threaten me, Captain. You may think you know me but men far better than you have discovered otherwise."
So saying he shifted his weight and, before the startled American could act, had reversed their positions. His smile was feral as he looked down at his prisoner. "My place, my pampered THRUSH. It's time you see the real world. Now, I am going to release you. One wrong move and I will not hesitate to kill you. Understood?"
"Understood," Solo replied, realizing this was no idle threat. He had read this man's file; also, his curiosity was peaked. What did the Russian mean by 'the real world'?
"Fine," Illya replied, cautiously removing his weight from the prone figure. "Stand up and walk into the alley," he commanded and was obeyed.
Together they made their way down the alley. "Stop!", Kuryakin commanded after about ten feet, then raised his arms heavenward. "Open, O says me!", he called out, his voice echoing in the confined space.
A deep rumble answered from beneath them. Solo's dark eyes widened as a section of the alley on which they stood began to descend. 'What's the next step?' he mused 'hell?'
All humor died as the huge elevator stopped and what his eyes beheld reminded him of a Hollywood back lot. All of the bombed out building from The Second World War were fully restored and the people that milled about wore clothing from that period.
A small commotion within the gathering crowd drew their attention.
Two burly black men who had been standing in its' center moved aside, revealing
a tall handsome man of about 65. He smiled at the newcomers and held
out his arms to Solo.
"Welcome, my son, to the real world THRUSH left us", Don Julian Solo
greeted his son.