Mar. 1st, 2017

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“Stop being a baby.”


“Please, will you man up!’ Solo chided.

“OW! I swear Napoleon, you are really enjoying this.”

“Moi? You’re my partner and in pain; I’m only trying to help you out.”

“OWWWWW! Enough, you sadist. I will take care of it myself. Now get away from me,” Kuryakin snarled. Illya snatched the tweezers from Napoleon’s hand while flashing him the evil eye.

“That’s the thanks I get for coming to your rescue?” Napoleon gave him the cold shoulder, though he was merely mocking.

“Next time you sit on a cactus, see if I help you!”
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The worst part of a stakeout, for Illya, was all the waiting that it involved; especially if it was his partner he was waiting for. Scanning his surroundings, Illya was beginning to wonder what had become of Napoleon. He had been gone for far too long.

Finally, after what had felt like an eternity, Napoleon appeared from around the corner. He dashed over to the car and quickly climbed in.

“Where have you been?” Illya demanded.

“I was only gone ten minutes, Tovarisch,” Solo replied, with a sigh. “Now, do you want turkey on rye or cheese salad on white?”



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Section VII Propaganda and Public Relations

September 2017

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