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An impromptu challenge-response. No title, just a triple drabble.
Napoleon pulled his communicator from his pocket, contacting headquarters.
“Someone’s following me. I’m going to have to ditch the package.”
“No,” Waverly barked, “You must bring it here at all costs.”
“Understood, Solo out.”
He ducked through the many archways of the medieval Cloisters museum, hoping the fog would hide him from his pursuers. If he could lose them them, and once finding a cab; it would take him only twenty minutes to make it from northern Manhattan to Midtown.
Napoleon could hear the footstep getting closer, and taking a chance; he fired sleep darts into the mist-filled shadows.
Finally silence.
It was just after dawn when Solo make it to headquarters; meeting his partner and the boss in Waverly’s private office.
“Any idea who was following you Mr. Solo?”
“No sir, I took a chance sleep darting them and frankly I was amazed I got them. It was near zero visibility though I knew there was at least two of them.”
Suddenly the lights started flashing and the klaxons sounded.
“Intruder alert,” a voice came over the PA system.
“Security,” Waverly spoke into his microphone.” How many?”
“Two sir, they’ve made it to the main corridor, heading your way.
Solo and Kuryakin pulled their weapons, going immediately to cover the door, but they were too late.
It opened and two shadowy figures emerged with guns blazing.
Illya went down first, shot in the head. Napoleon was next, fatally wounded as he dropped to the floor.
Waverly had his own gun drawn and fired it.
“Click-click.” Nothing. No bullets.
“Not possible!” Waverly barked his helplessness. This shouldn’t be happening.
“Mr. Waverly sir?” Lisa Rogers called his name, shaking his shoulder. “Wake up sir.”
“Wot wot? Hmm, I must have dozed off. Devil if I didn’t have a nightmare.”
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I wouldn't wonder at Waverly having nightmares though. The man has a ton of responsibility on his shoulders.
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Newsletter for Thursday, April 23
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