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15 March 2019 @ 11:59 am

One by one more of the Thrushies came out to search the Indian players as they passed by; waiting a day for Solo and Kuryakin to show up had apparently thrown them off and they’d let their guard down.

Being the idiots they were the goons found themselves in the middle of a mock battle between several tribes.

Guns were drawn, and blood was spilled as several Indian tribes retaliated. They had their guns too; it was after all a rough area and a few people carried protection.

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15 March 2019 @ 02:37 pm
"No way! Absolutely not!”  Napoleon shook his head and threw the item Illya had handed to him.
“We need to fit in more.  So, get out of that suit and put it on.”  Illya insisted handed it back to his partner.  “Do not be a baby about it.  Everyone is wearing them.”

“I’m not everyone.  My style is special, and I refuse to change it for anyone.”

“Perhaps, Mr. Waverly would disagree with your comment.   You told me that we need to meet our contact without drawing attention to ourselves or them.  This will help us blend in, NOW PUT IT ON.”

jazz shirt.jpgNapoleon grabbed the jazz shirt and put it on threatening.  “If I see a picture of me in this, you wouldn’t have to worry about dying by Thrush's hands.  I will take care of it for them.” 

“I would never,” the grin on Illya’s face denying what he was saying.
It had been a while since Illya Kuryakin’s every move was watched as he’d walked through the corridors of U.N.C.L.E. New York. He had gotten used to it at the time but now, as he made his way out of the building, Illya felt distinctly uncomfortable. Every eye was on him as he passed through, and every mouth was left hanging open when they saw him. However, no-one said anything until Napoleon set eyes on him.

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