Illya Nikovitch Kuryakin (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fatherswatch) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
undergrounds2016-01-08 11:33 pm
fatherswatch) wrote in undergrounds2016-01-08 11:33 pm
The Newcomer Affair
i) The security
Redbright Institute, early January
Overall, he had no strong opinion of the woman in charge of the Redbright Institute. He had been sent to observe and carefully decide what he thought of everything. That was what he was to report to UNCLE. So superficial meetings? Weren't important. In a few months, he'd be more certain.
The school was interesting. Russia had their own, but they tended to be more segmented. After his father had been arrested, he'd attended one that could closely be called a military school. Still, it seemed like a proper way to educate young people able the abilities they were born with.
His job in and of itself was uneventful. He basically only had to stand in the hallways and make eye contact with the obvious troublemakers. Everyone else understood not to even try. With his fellow staff, he was just as quiet, but he didn't look at them like he was daring them to attempt making trouble. If anything, at times, he ignored them more often than not.
ii) The scout
Enfield, early January
Part of his real job was to monitor the situation in London as a whole. Which was why he found his way to the borough claimed by Circle Midnight.
On the outside, it looked no different than anything else in London. The supernatural community kept their heads down, and he approved.
Magic wasn't something he could sense, so he could do nothing but walk the streets, casually sipping a cup of coffee. It would take some time to gain access to the varying groups, but it was what he needed to do.
However, it had been easy enough to follow a trail of paperwork. Not that it hadn't been well done, plenty of proxies and the like. But with a computer and time (both of which he had and knew how to properly use), it could be traced.
Which was how he came to the Seven Sisters. A cute little psychic shop that was a front for the Shadow Coven. The outside was entirely unassuming, and he looked at it like a proper sceptic. Which was why it was easy enough to glance to the side, where someone else was.
"Have you ever been here?"
iii) The renter
Ealing, mid January
"I'm sorry, sir," the girl at the counter said. "That card isn't working."
Even though he knew that it was likely Waverly who had figured the budget incorrectly, Illya's first inclination was to blame Solo. To be sure it was the thief who'd somehow 'changed' where his funds were.
"Do you have another form of payment?"
"No," he replied, a bit more sharply than he meant to. "I'm sorry."
Even if he didn't sound like he meant it, he did.
But he stepped out of line and some distance away before he began texting on his phone, swearing under his breath in Russian.
iv) The observant
Westminster, mid January
The Night Council headquarters had a small, somewhat expensive little deli across from them. It was there that Illya sat, enjoying his light lunch. A bit of soup to keep the chill out, and a sandwich to fortify the meal further. For a drink, he had only ice water.
From his seat inside, he could see the building across the way. He watched the people come and go, made mental notes of who he saw talking to whom, and who seemed to be intentionally avoiding people. The game was ancient, but London was a different board, and he had little information about the players. Whatever files UNCLE could provide were useless for really knowing someone.
After all, there had been a lot his files hand't said about Miss Teller and Mister Solo.
All he could do now was watch and learn. His presence at the Institute would help, he thought. Establish him and let him learn about all of these people.
v) The watchful
Croydon, late January
Fae were disinclined to ignore insults. And from what he'd heard of the matters in this borough? The fae were no doubt thoroughly insulted. Which made the small victory gained recently an indication of danger to come. At least to him.
So, he walked the streets after dark with only a few days until the full moon. His nerves were frayed, and his senses were sharpened. Every corner threatened to have something dangerous around it. Of course, he also knew he was probably just as threatening to quite a few people.
But he heard something. A little hint of noise that certainly didn't come from a car or the like.
"Who's there? Show yourself."
Redbright Institute, early January
Overall, he had no strong opinion of the woman in charge of the Redbright Institute. He had been sent to observe and carefully decide what he thought of everything. That was what he was to report to UNCLE. So superficial meetings? Weren't important. In a few months, he'd be more certain.
The school was interesting. Russia had their own, but they tended to be more segmented. After his father had been arrested, he'd attended one that could closely be called a military school. Still, it seemed like a proper way to educate young people able the abilities they were born with.
His job in and of itself was uneventful. He basically only had to stand in the hallways and make eye contact with the obvious troublemakers. Everyone else understood not to even try. With his fellow staff, he was just as quiet, but he didn't look at them like he was daring them to attempt making trouble. If anything, at times, he ignored them more often than not.
ii) The scout
Enfield, early January
Part of his real job was to monitor the situation in London as a whole. Which was why he found his way to the borough claimed by Circle Midnight.
On the outside, it looked no different than anything else in London. The supernatural community kept their heads down, and he approved.
Magic wasn't something he could sense, so he could do nothing but walk the streets, casually sipping a cup of coffee. It would take some time to gain access to the varying groups, but it was what he needed to do.
However, it had been easy enough to follow a trail of paperwork. Not that it hadn't been well done, plenty of proxies and the like. But with a computer and time (both of which he had and knew how to properly use), it could be traced.
Which was how he came to the Seven Sisters. A cute little psychic shop that was a front for the Shadow Coven. The outside was entirely unassuming, and he looked at it like a proper sceptic. Which was why it was easy enough to glance to the side, where someone else was.
"Have you ever been here?"
iii) The renter
Ealing, mid January
"I'm sorry, sir," the girl at the counter said. "That card isn't working."
Even though he knew that it was likely Waverly who had figured the budget incorrectly, Illya's first inclination was to blame Solo. To be sure it was the thief who'd somehow 'changed' where his funds were.
"Do you have another form of payment?"
"No," he replied, a bit more sharply than he meant to. "I'm sorry."
Even if he didn't sound like he meant it, he did.
But he stepped out of line and some distance away before he began texting on his phone, swearing under his breath in Russian.
iv) The observant
Westminster, mid January
The Night Council headquarters had a small, somewhat expensive little deli across from them. It was there that Illya sat, enjoying his light lunch. A bit of soup to keep the chill out, and a sandwich to fortify the meal further. For a drink, he had only ice water.
From his seat inside, he could see the building across the way. He watched the people come and go, made mental notes of who he saw talking to whom, and who seemed to be intentionally avoiding people. The game was ancient, but London was a different board, and he had little information about the players. Whatever files UNCLE could provide were useless for really knowing someone.
After all, there had been a lot his files hand't said about Miss Teller and Mister Solo.
All he could do now was watch and learn. His presence at the Institute would help, he thought. Establish him and let him learn about all of these people.
v) The watchful
Croydon, late January
Fae were disinclined to ignore insults. And from what he'd heard of the matters in this borough? The fae were no doubt thoroughly insulted. Which made the small victory gained recently an indication of danger to come. At least to him.
So, he walked the streets after dark with only a few days until the full moon. His nerves were frayed, and his senses were sharpened. Every corner threatened to have something dangerous around it. Of course, he also knew he was probably just as threatening to quite a few people.
But he heard something. A little hint of noise that certainly didn't come from a car or the like.
"Who's there? Show yourself."
no subject
But that was impossible to tell who she might have a grudge against. It might be necessary for him to get involved, but, if not, he certainly didn't need to make it his business.
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Just in case, her hand dipped into her jacket pocket, reaching for her knife.
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The actual politics of werewolf packs weren't his business. He didn't really belong to one, after all. But their feuds and territories mattered because they could disrupt the rest of the political standings.
"What do you have against Semak?"
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"He wants me dead, does it matter why? Will you help me, or is Semak under your protection?" Her hand tightened around the knife hilt.
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"I have no interests pertaining to him."
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But the more important thing was, "Will you help me get into the country?"
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Simple but true. After all, he didn't even work for the Russian government any more. Not that he'd tell this girl that. No. That was a specifically Need To Know basis. And no one in London needed to know.
no subject
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"Just give me a name and a way to contact them."
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"Not right now. A month." It was the best he could offer. "I can determine who will be able to help you best. And inform them someone will be contacting them."
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"Three weeks."
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He even chuckled a little as he said it. After all, she was a smart girl. And it gave him enough time to ask around, make a few inquiries.
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She wasn't sure whether she should thank him, or if that would break the aura of professionalism. She settled on a nod instead. Then she went back to eating her pancakes. No sense in letting them go to waste.
no subject