1965-01-22 - Deaths and Rebirth
Summary: Beware when drinking with old friends.
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
yuliya able 

Locating some titanium scraps among the remnants of Able's various projects was much easier than finding someone to discreetly and skillfully machine them. Still, he's managed. The cub is flawless, even polished to prevent rough surfaces from creating any issues.

The doctor whistles a nameless tune as he rolls the cube across his worktable like a gambler's die. He seems more than pleased with the work. He must've been working on something else, because there's no suit jacket or tie to be found. His shirtsleeves are rolled up and his top button is undone. He looks almost casual as he lounges back in his chair and sips at a glass of wine.

Yuliya makes her way into the clinic, dressed in her business attire while carrying her briefcase in one hand, while juggling a paper bag full of groceries in the other. It's possible that she's worked ona sunday to get paper work out of the way, as she also has her camera carry case slung over one shoulder. She quietly moves in the direction of the whistling, complete with a faint smile on her lips for whatever reason. "Able, you gopnik," she cheerfully greets as she approaches. "My stove has stopped working. I can't make the gelatin yet."

She frowns a little as she admits that, as she moves to put down her brief case and the groceries on an empty bed. "Do you have a portable stove top?"

Able takes an manful, medicinal draw of wine, then stands. He nods and moves toward a cupboard, saying, "I'm sure I can put something together."

And it seems he can. It doesn't take him long to come up with a chemist's burner, plus another the wine bottle and another glass. He sets the burner on his worktable and sparks it without preamble, then pours Yuliya a healthy measure of wine. The glass is offered to her with a small, friendly salute. "You picked a good time to stop by. I picked the cube up yesterday. I think you'll be more than satisfied with the craftsmanship."

Yuliya offers a thankful smile to Able when he goes to collect the chemist's burner, and she also uses the time to slip her hand into her pocket to withdraw two pills that she conceals in the palm of her hand. She's not a Widow, but she is a trained spy and she has orders. With the distraction taking place, she takes the time to crack open the pills and pour them into Able's drink, before giving it a little shake to disolve the contents before putting it back down exactly where it was before.

She then plops down in Able's chair, and leans back as she waits for his return. A bright smile is offered when he returns and when the wine is poured and offered to her, she takes her own glass and holds it up for a moment. "I think we should have a toast," she cheerfully suggests.

"You're in quite a mood," Able responds, clearly amused. One doesn't often encounter cheerful KGB agents. All the same, he chalks it up to the progression of a shared project that may have started out lighthearted, but could actually end up doing some good. Tactically, anyway.

He raises his glass and tilts his head curiously with his eyes fixed on Yuliya's. "What shall we drink to? Lady's choice, of course."

"Oh, I am just causing headaches for command back home," Yuliya replies to Able. "I enjoy annoying my handler. Well, most times. That, and I have a new toy. It's pretty and shiny and I want to try it out sometime, just to see if it's as quiet as they claim. It's very pretty." She offers another nod of her head. However when the talk of toast comes up, she tilts her head to the side and hmms softly as she decides what to suggest. "I suggest we toast to friendship, good health and that the cube works. Once I make the gelatin for it." She raises the glass up to her lips with a smile, and it looks like she's taking a drink.

Thus far, Able has no reason to distrust this new friendship they've formed. That could prove to be his undoing. And so he chimes the rim of his glass off of Yuli's and takes a drink.

"It'll work," he surmises. "Though we may have to test out a few different charges to get it right. We may even get away with a touch of gunpowder, you never know."

Nope, Yuliya doesn't brag when Able takes a drink from his glass. In fact, she only has a faint smile on her lips, as she glances to the side to consider the cube. "I agree, we start with things like black powder and work up. It would not make sense to start with the strongest first, as some times overkill is not needed." She purses her lips, and then stands up, taking her glass of wine with her as she makes her way over to the bag of groceries. "Do you have a large pot here? I will start on producing the gelatin, but I warn you that it will smell."

"I do," Able replies. "Um. Somewhere." He stands and rubs a hand briefly against his cheek. For a person who can catalogue memories and literally retrieve each one at will, it's disconcerting to not remember where he left something. He stands and heads for another cupboard, then zig-zags his way toward a third. "I think it's…"

That's when it hits him, both physically and as a realization. He's been drugged. He sags against a countertop, catches himself, then slides further down. "Should've known," he groans. "You're never… this happy."

Yuliya leaves the groceries where they are, and instead moves to collect her camera case. "I am sorry for having to do this, Able," she offers to the drugged man. "I have no choice in the matter, and I need you to out of the way. Well, you know, it is simply my job. Someone wants you dead, and I'm just arranging it." She then casually makes her way towards the doors, closing and locking them so that she won't be distrubed. "On the upside, you won't have to smell the cooking that will take place." She's cautious not to get too close at the moment.

She makes her way back towards the man, smiling sweetly while being very cautious. "Just stop resisting and let go. I'll still be here when you wake up."

For a moment it seems like the doctor isn't quite done. As always, he's capable of producing a scalpel seemingly from nowhere. Though his eyes are beginning to fuzz, he can still fix them on Yuliya. He raises the tiny, deadly blade to prepare for a throw, but it slips from his fingers before he lets it fly. Still, it falls a fraction of a second before he hits the ground. It's possible, even likely that he dropped it on purpose. Either way, it's too late for him to do anything with it now.

Yuliya was most likely preparing to be hit by the scapel when she saw it raised, and she tenses up waiting for the sharp weapon that doesn't come. She breaths a sigh of relief, With Able seemingly out of it, she does stop closer to kick the surgical impliment away with her foot, while her hand moves to pluck the polaroid camera out of its carry bag. It's rather quite professional and practiced how she takes the photo and pulls out the film, giving it a little shake to help along the development process. The photo is put to the side, and she moves to take the scapel in hand.

Nope, she doesn't use it as a weapon, but she does tuck it away. She offers a little titter and shakes her head. "I really hope you look in the mirror after I'm long gone," she comments as she digs into a compartment of the case. "Sorry, but I need to make you look dead." Sure, she most likely won't get any response, but she'll use the short time she has to give the man a more deathly look, as well as even trying her hand at moulage to try and make it look like he's received a deep neck wound as well.

Once that's done, she uses a little bit of fake blood to soak the 'wound', as well as splattering it on Able's shirt and scapel to make it look more realistic. Then it's time for another photo.

With that done, she carefully moves the man onto his side, before going in search of the big pot.

After that, it's apparently cooking time. Pirozhki with zakusi appears to be what she's making in form of payment and also hopefully as an apology for when the man wakes up.

It takes time for Able to wake up. More than he would've guessed, considering his experiences with being sedated in the past.

But his constitution is more potent than most. This is why, still somewhat shaky, he soon sweeps up behind Yuli with the same scalpel in hand. It hovers a scant inch from the back of her neck. "C3 and C4 vertebrae," he informs her, his voice flat. "Death would be instantaneous. So. Why?" One thinks he wouldn't have to elaborate on his question under the circumstances, yet he does. "Why are you cooking? What the hell is going on?"

Yuliya stands still when Able sweeps up behind her, and she actually looks relieved and yet concerned. Well, now more concerned. "Command ordered me to drug and kill you. So I technically did" she admits to Able. "So I took liberty with the orders. You were sedated and 'killed'. Or so the photos should suggest." She then looks a little sheepish. "Oh, and sorry about the fake blood on your shirt. I will buy you a new one." She slowly raises her hands up and turns to face the man. "I thought you would be hungry when you woke up, and I actually feel bad about being sneaky like that. I needed to make it look like you were poisoned, passed out and killed."

"Asking you to lay on the ground wouldn't have got you into an awkward position like that," she admits, sounding rather apologetic. "It helps with the realism. Like the wound on your neck, that's not real either."

"I…" This isn't helping with Able's confusion, though the disorientation is starting to clear. Several very, very long seconds pass while he considers what he's been told, then he takes a step back and holds both hands up disarmingly. The scalpel is pinched between finger and thumb, then set aside. "But it won't work. Sooner or later they'll find out I'm still alive. They'll kill you. Why risk yourself for me?"

It's not often that someone goes from furious to concerned in such a short span, but this seems to qualify. The doctor slumps back into a chair and reaches for his wine glass, but thinks better of it just in time. Brow furrowed, he looks up at Yuli searchingly.

Yuliya falls silent as she watches Able closely, and she relaxes when there's no attack with the scapel. At the question, she gives a little shrug. "You could have taken me out for the CIA, and you didn't," she comments. "You could have tipped them off that I was working in the United States, and you didn't. I know it won't work, but it will buy me time to get things in order and plan out my next move." She raises up a hand to rub at the bridge of her nose. "Being assigned here, well, for the first time in my life, I can actually be me. I have some freedom here, and I am not going to let them take it from me."

She takes a deep breath and hmms softly. "I can change my identity and my appearance. It is a big country." She notices Able reaching for the wine glass and makes a face. "Please, do not drink that. That was how I delivered the dose."

"That was my guess." As his mind clears, Able is regaining a bit of his dry humor. Still, there's a look in his eyes that measures somewhere between fondness and regret when he looks back up at his Russian counterpart. "I was ready to get out when that happened. I'd seen too much and too much had passed between us. You sacrificed a great deal when you made this decision."

A 'thank you' seems a trifle small for this occasion. After all, Able was a lawless, landless mercenary when he violated his contract on Yuliya's life. She's given up far more. He clears his throat and looks away. "Thank you."

Yuliya makes a bit of a face. "I also realise that those in power are exactly like the ones that we cast out during the Revolution. Nothing for the common people, and all for themselves," she admits to Able, and she looks a bit guilty. "I guess I was only a tool, despite what I've done in the past." She falls silent, and then swallows. "I know, I am a bad person compared to some." She seems thoughtful and purses her lips. "Though of course, until I do send those photos to where they need to go, I should be able to convince them that I am playing by their rules still."

She then shakes her head. "No need to thank me. I just got tired of being sent to crack open fortified buildings."

"You're not a bad person compared to me. If I can do some good in this world, anyone can." This revelation seems to please Able. "You remember the redhead during the shootout, yes? We're a part of a team. For once in my life, I'm helping people without asking for something in return."

He shakes his head to clear the last of the fog, then, shrugging, he picks up the wine bottle and takes a pull from the source. Once he's finished he offers it to Yuliya. "You could do it, too."

A soft laugh is given by Yuliya and she does nod in agreement. "I guess we could try to figure out who is the worst out of both of us," she admits. "We are both pretty terrible people. Well, until you reformed." She listens to talk of the team, and she nods in agreement when it comes to the redhead. "Da, I remember her. She is one of your friends that has encouraged you to not kill?" She moves up to take a swig of her own from the bottle when it's offered to her.

At the talk of helping people without asking for something in return, she gives him a strange look. "I try to help in mutant town. They are the downtrodden people here. "I hope you are not going to say go talk to SHIELD. I think they are worse than the KGB. I hear they kidnapped Soviet workers."

Able gives his head a quick shake. "No, I don't trust the covert ops community. Times are too volatile. I trust my friends who, as you say, encourage me not to kill." He pauses for a smile. "As foreign as that seems."

He steeples his fingers thoughtfully while he considers how best to explain. "I teach at a school for extraordinary individuals like us. Some have gifts like mine or intuitive aptitudes like yours. I also work with my colleagues to resolve dangerous situations as cleanly and neatly as possible. I think you would find it satisfying."

Yuliya arches a brow and she shakes her head. "It does sound very strange," she comments. "A silenced weapon or a broken neck means that they cannot raise an alarm." She takes another swig from the bottle, and hands it back to Able. She purses her lips and tilts her head to the side as she listens to the man speak about the school. She gives a soft laugh and shakes her head at first. "I do not think I would be a good role model." She does seem to mull on it though.

"So you do wetwork where you do not kill, but it is dangerous and done neatly? I have to admit, I am curious about what tactics are used."

"The students need to know that no matter what they've seen or done, things can still change for them." Able accepts the bottle and drinks deeply. "Ahh. Most of them have been through too much, just like us. In a way, we are the best role models for them. They know that if we can change, they can as well."

Once he's finished with the wine, he sets it aside and drums his fingers thoughtfully on the tabletop. "Non-lethal tactics take some adjustment," he admits. "You aim for shoulders and knees. I've gotten very good at tying people up very quickly." This bit comes with a mischievous grin. "You adapt. It's easier than you might think."

Yuliya looks more thoughtful now, and she seems to be pondering about it. "That… Actually does not sound too bad," she admits softly. "It sounds more like a place to learn for the students, and also for people to, uh, heal, I would guess." The Russian tilts her head a little to the otherside. "Who do I speak with, or where do I put a resume?" No doubt the resume would be fabricated. "I haven't used my French accent for a while, so it could be good to practice with it again."

Once again, she listens closely and she laughs soft at the comment about tying people up, as well as the mischevious smile. "Is that meant to be a threat for drugging you?" she teases. "I… I will try this school you talk of."

"It wouldn't be the first time." Able still looks the part of a rogue from head to toe. Is he talking about the tying? The trying? The healing? "Anyway, I don't threaten. I act."

The doctor rakes his hands through his hair and shrugs one shoulder. "No need for the French accent unless that's what you want. Being who we are is a big part of what makes this place special." This is something that Able is still having some trouble truly understanding, but he's getting there. It's difficult when you're a thing rather than a true person. "In any case, I'll make the arrangements," he finally says. "It's the least I can do."

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