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LOST IN TRANSLATION 

     Napoleon Solo steered their rental car around another blind curve, praying that they wouldn't collide with another vehicle approaching from the opposite direction. A cloud of dust rose in the little Trident's wake. Beside him in the passenger seat, Illya scowled at the tall, thorny hedgerows looming on either side of the narrow dirt road.

     “Between the dust and the hedgerows, I cannot see a thing,” he grumbled. “I think we may be lost.”

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Author: Avery11
Genre: Gen

Start from the beginning with Part 1: The Trouble With Amphibians
here:
http://avery11.livejournal.com/4267.html

 

A Tale of Two Friendships
Part 2 of THE TEN PLAGUES AFFAIR

(Acts III and IV)

 

Act III: These Are Dangerous Times... 

   They set out for Manorville the next morning, following the Long Island Expressway eastward, down the length of the Island. Illya had wanted to take the DeLorean, but Napoleon insisted on a more nondescript vehicle for the occasion. In the end, they both compromised, and settled on a sleek Pontiac Grand Prix.

   “Everyone has a Pontiac these days,” was Illya's reasoning. “We will blend right in.”

   “Not in Matador Red, we won't.”

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THE TEN PLAGUES AFFAIR is a three-part series.

Start from the beginning with: Part One: The Trouble With Amphibians

here:
http://avery11.livejournal.com/4267.html

 A Tale Of Two Friendships

(Part 2 of THE TEN PLAGUES AFFAIR)
Acts I and II
 

It Was the Best of Times... 

     It was, for Illya and Napoleon, that rarest of occasions: an ordinary Sunday morning. Outside the brick walls of Napoleon's apartment building, pedestrians strolled, flowers bloomed in window boxes, and the morning sun shone brightly, a rare and welcome sight after the miserable, sodden Spring they had endured. But more importantly, the agents had managed to secure a few precious hours of downtime away from HQ, their thoughts momentarily freed from the ever-present threat of THRUSH and plagues and Waverly's escalating ire.    


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Author: Avery11
Genre: Gen, friendship, angst
Be sure to read Acts I and II first
.


DIES IRAE
The Conclusion of THE TEN PLAGUES AFFAIR

(Acts III and IV)

 Act III:   Day of Disaster

Alexander Waverly sat beside his elegant, silver-haired wife, patting her hand absently as he spoke. He seemed to have aged overnight.

“Irene was on the way to her weekly ballet class. The perpetrators killed the chauffeur and a female bodyguard to get to her. Both were highly trained agents.” He handed Napoleon an envelope. “They left this behind, taped to the steering column.”

 Napoleon slid the single sheet of stationery from the envelope:  
   
“'Vengeance is mine. Yet one more plague will I bring upon you. I will go forth, and all the firstborn shall die, from the firstborn of the man who sits upon the throne to the firstborn of the servant. And there shall be a great cry throughout the land, such as there never has been, nor will be again.'”

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THE END

   


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Here, finally, is the conclusion of “The Ten Plagues Affair.” Many thanks for your patience. In order to understand what's going on, you really need to read the earlier installments.

Start from the beginning with Part One: The Trouble With Amphibians
here: 
http://avery11.livejournal.com/4267.html 
 

 Dies Irae

Part 3 of THE TEN PLAGUES AFFAIR
(Acts I and II)
  

Act I:  A Cold Day In Hell

    Napoleon stared at the depressing pile of paperwork covering his desk, wondering, not for the first time, whether file folders procreated at night when the lights were out. The necessity of reading each and every report that crossed his desk was one of his least favorite duties as CEA. At least it's Friday, he thought, rubbing his weary eyes. Not that that provided any sort of absolution where UNCLE was concerned.

     The door slid open.

     “Ah, there you are,” Illya declared grumpily. “I was about to send Mr. Waverly's Saint Bernard out to look for you.”

     “Illya!” Napoleon's face lit with pleasure. “When did you get back from Athens? The mission was a success, I trust?”

     “Never mind that, Napoleon. Have you looked outside your door recently?”    


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HAUNTED

4/11/11 23:21
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Author: Avery11
Genre: Gen
Author's Note: In a way, this story resolves certain themes I introduced in an earlier story, "Once Upon A Time." If you're interested, you can find it on my LJ page, or use this link:
http://network-command.livejournal.com/307633.html#cutid1 

 

Haunted 

     It was a chill night for October, misty and moonless, a watercolor wash of a night, stripped of definable edges. Shapes blended into one another, rocks and roots disappearing into the thick mist rising from the forest floor. Illya wished he had thought to bring a bottle of vodka along, to ward off the chill. And to ward off other things, as well.

     A fool's errand, he mentally chastised himself. That's what this is.

     To his credit, Napoleon had not laughed when Illya told him where he was going, and why. “I understand,” he had replied quietly, his warm brown eyes seeing far more than Illya had intended to show. “I'll wait for you in Helsinki.”

     He did not deserve such a friend.


   
  

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 Author: Avery11
Genre: Gen

The Wild Hunt 

  
     Napoleon crested the arête, breathless from the long trek across the Faha Ridge and up the rugged east slope of Cnoc Bréanainn. Groaning, he dropped to the ground beside an ancient, lichen-crusted stone wall, and took a sip of water from his canteen.

     “Tell me,” he inquired of an equally exhausted Illya, "is there a mountain left in Ireland that we haven't climbed in the past two weeks?”

     “If there is, please do not mention it to Mr. Waverly.” He sank down beside his friend, and dug into his backpack for the bag of trail mix. “Still, if our efforts can help to pinpoint Doctor Dabree's whereabouts --”     

      “Dabree is dead, Illya. She died four years ago. You were there.”


   

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THE KINDNESS OF STRANGERS

She kept to the shadows, her thin frame pressed against the filthy brick wall of the building as she edged her way down the alley. Dead leaves and odd bits of trash skittered about her feet, buffeted by the icy November wind as it blew in off the bay. It had snowed earlier in the day, and more was predicted for the evening rush hour. Shivering, the girl clutched the grimy edges of her cotton jacket closer for warmth, wishing for the thousandth time that she'd thought to bring a heavier coat. And hat. Gloves. Money.

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