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As Illya peered round the door frame he observed a rather large man standing there who he recognized as a member of Section V Security. Apparently he’d been dispatched there to keep watch by Waverly.

“Umm, hi there Artie,”Illya said sheepishly as he stared up at the man’s face. He was at least six foot five and towered over the Russian.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in bed Mister Kuryakin?”

“Yes, you are absolutely right, and that is where I am going right this second.”


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A second cat story, with a little more detail on Illya former pet black cat named Nina, after Nina Simone.

The light of the morning sun caught on the shiney gold collar around a black cat's throat as it sat on the ledge outside Napoleon Solo's bedroom window.

The man's eyes fluttered open, blinking as he focused the cat who was intently staring at him through the glass.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say that was Illya's cat Nina...or was his cat," Napoleon thought to himself. Kuryakin had given the cat to Mrs. Manetti, his neighbor.

The Russian decided since he was gone so often, that it wasn't fair to his furry friend who needed company. So did the older woman who lived across the hall. Her cat, who had also been black, died and the poor woman was lonely.

Mrs. Manetti cat-sat Nina every time he was gone, often for weeks at a time. It made sense for the cat to simply live there from now on... even though Illya did miss her when he was home, still he had visiting privileges, which helped.

Napoleon rose from his bed, slipping into his nearby grey silk bath robe. He continued to look at the cat and though he and Nina didn't get along; he thought it best she not be wandering on a ledge three stories up.

Cats had nine lives, or so it was said but as much as he disliked the animal; he didn't want to see anything happen to her.

Solo went to the window and slowly raised it, and instantly Nina slipped inside, the little bell on her collar tinkling.

She promptly leapt right onto his bed.

"Hey, you don't belong there," he said, but as usual she ignored him."Don't you belong downstairs with Mrs. Manetti now? Let's go see her okay?"

"Mrrr-oow," Nina seemingly answered. Instead of complying, she simply curled up in his blanket, kneading with her front paws, purring rather loudly.

"Come on Nina, let's go," Napoleon stood by his bedroom door, gesturing with his hand.

"Mrrr-oooow...prrrt." The cat answered before burrowing under the blanket.

"Hmmmm," Solo groused. He didn't want to go near her for fear of being attacked, which is what she did do him everytime he was in Illya's apartment. After huffing for a moment, he decided to leave her be. She'd eventually come out and would head to the door. He would let her out and hopefully be able to herd her down to Mrs. Manetti's.

He certainly couldn't ask the older woman to come up here to retrieve the cat, that wouldn't be gentlemanly, and she was up there in years. She had arthritis and barely made it out of the building most of the time. Her sister often brought her groceries and took her out now and then.

He knew Illya checked on her as well.

Sometime he thought she had a bit of a crush on Kuryakin; that thought made Napoleon chuckle. Older women did seem to take a liking to his partner...perhaps it was his boyish looks?

She didn't seem to care for Napoleon though, calling him a gigolo every time she saw him..

"Fine, stay there cat," Napoleon said, "but don't do any damage to my bedding," Napoleon wagged a finger at her. He headed out to the kitchen intending to make his breakfast and coffee.

It would be light one today, just bacon and a toasted English muffin; he needed to lose a couple of pounds before the yearly physical.

Just as his bacon was nice and crisp, he plucked it from the frying pan with a pair of tongs, setting it down on a paper napkin to drain the fat.

In the blink of an eye, Nina was there, up on the counter and promptly helped herself to the bacon.

"Dammit cat!" Napoleon swatted a rolled up newspaper at her.

She ignored him…

He suddenly smelled something burning?

"My muffin!"

Smoke was rising from the toaster; the sliced English muffin had gotten stuck. He pulled the plug and used a butter knife to get them out but sadly, they were burned to a crisp.

"So much for a nice breakfast," Napoleon mumbled.

Nina having polished off the bacon, promptly jumped up on the table across from the UNCLE agent, and proceeded to stare at him...again.

"What?" He sighed after a few minutes of her slowly blinking. He tried ignoring her as he finished his coffee; blocking his view of her while reading the newspaper.

"Mi-oooow!" Nina protested.

He peeked over the top of the paper, huffing yet again and watched as she jumped down from the table; walking to the apartment door.

"Oh, okay. So you're just going to eat and run you ingrate?" He was in fact happy she wanted out as he was half expecting her to attack his ankles at any moment; her usual modus operandi with him.

Not wanting to waste time to get dressed; Napoleon tied the belt to his robe and opened the door for Nina. He followed her downstairs, not to Mrs. Manetti's door but to Illya's.

"No, you don't live there anymore remember?"Napoleon said.

He knocked on Mrs. Manetti's door, but there was no answer. Figuring the safest thing to do for now was to put her in Illya's apartment; he used his key to open the door. He'd try calling Mrs. Manetti later to tell her that's where the cat was.

Nina slipped right inside as he reached in to disengage the alarm but suddenly found his wrist being grabbed, Solo was pulled inside, and pinned against the wall with a gun barrel pointed against his temple.

"Napoleon?" Illya sounded surprised.

"Illya?" He replied, imitating his partner's tone of voice. "What are you doing here?"

"Last time I looked...I lived here," came the dry response.

"I meant aren't you on assignment?"

"I finished up early and got home around three this morning. However, I was not meant to get to bed as Mrs. Manetti called me. She was not feeling well and needed to go to the hospital. An ambulance arrived and took her to Lenox Hill Hospital; somehow in the process Nina got out. I see she found you."

"Yes, she sitting on the ledge outside my bedroom window."

"Impressive how cats can get to such places," Illya knelt down and scratched Nina behind the ears, eliciting a loud purr from her.

"I guess you will be staying with me again, my sweet," he spoke to her. "I will need to go get you some food."

"She just ate so I don't think she's hungry right now."

Illya's eyes widened with surprise." You fed her? I thought you and Nina did not get along."

"Helping herself to the bacon that was supposed to be my breakfast is not what I call getting along. It was rather impertinent of the little furball, if I do say so myself."

Illya chuckled. "Did she bite your ankles?"

"Well, no…"

"This is a major milestone. So to celebrate your new found friendship with Miss Nina; I will make us breakfast. I have eggs, toast, sausages, kashi, and fresh blueberries. I can make you coffee now in my new percolator," Illya proudly announced.

"What happened to a percolator is bourgeois?" *

"Do you want breakfast or not Napoleon?"

"Yes, thank you." Napoleon wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth, especially from his partner. He'd start his diet tomorrow.

"You are welcome," Illya nodded as he walked into his kitchen with Nina following him.

"Do not worry my sweet, I will make sausage for you too," he whispered.



* ref to chapter 111 "The Randomness of Life " "A percolator is bourgeois?"

Since I just recently rec'd my 'Cat Noir' and 'On the prowl- the sequel' both about black cats...specifically Illya turning into one, I thought this story, though a little bit off the mark would be good. It's about a cat that's black, but not...

It was like nothing Illya had ever seen before, Napoleon as well.  They’d seen dozens of experiments on animals by THRUSH, including using cats as their guinea pigs while testing a for a machine that would make a human being younger again.

Like many of their schemes it was a failure as the subjects eventually returned to their true age, but this latest adventure in experimentation left the UNCLE agents at a loss for words.

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18 August 2019 @ 08:03 am
le chat noir
This iconic image is, of course, French in origin.  It is also a reference to the Paris establishment of the same name, and was originally formed as a meeting place for literary and artistic types.  It seems appropriate then, if only marginally, to reference it here on Section VII, since we have some literary acumen.  Well, we try to have literary acumen.
On a day honoring black cats, something I think we've done here on numerous occasions, I thought it might be nice to tell some stories, post pictures... however you would like to join in the conversation.
I know my chat noir, Precious, is a dear and clever little feline who adds immensely to my life.  Even when she's knocking things off of tables in order to satisfy either her curiosity or gain my attention, I wouldn't trade her for any number of tantilizing temptations.
Please use the comment section to post a photo or to add some kitty love to the thread.  If you have a story you'd like to post in relation to it, just mention the occasion. Certainly one of our most popular PicFic prompts is the black cat on the steps, and there are a few of those from last week's Writer's Choice selections. Mine is HERE
Read about Le Chat Noir Caberet in Paris
17 August 2019 @ 05:14 pm
Click on the link to go to AO3.

Changing Minds
Current Location: New York, NY
17 August 2019 @ 05:25 pm

The strange properties of Quadrillenium X test Illya's knowledge of physics; Thrush wants it; Napoleon is nearly brained with it; it almost destroys them both 


Illya nearly blows them both to kingdom come
Illya nearly blows them both to kingdom come


Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9,
Chapter 10

Though it was against Doctor Richard’s wishes, Napoleon insisted upon being brought to the mystery woman’s interrogation.

He wasn’t going to let Illya have all the fun.

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17 August 2019 @ 10:29 am
This is a whimsical piece, and it features a feline named Sheba.  My own Sheba, aka Precious, must have been my inspiration.
According To Plan

“What is your name?” Illya asked.

“Helen Adams.”

“Who is your employer?”

“The Central Intelligence Agency.”

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