section7mfu | An Inconvenient Affair for Short Affair 5/18 (Reply)

An Inconvenient Affair
Words: 507
Prompts: Wind, Orange
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The wind was howling like a banshee and the air felt hot against the skin of two UNCLE agents. Strapped down to boards with strips of leather, their nakedness was just one of the discomforts being endured.

It had started with a simple surveillance of a warehouse in San Diego, California. It wasn't a place they'd normally find themselves, the West Coast being in the domain primarily of the Los Angeles offices of the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement. Sometimes the odd detail will send an agent into parts unknown and, in this case, it had been to Balboa Park. That was not where they were currently, however, something that Illya Kuryakin was sure to remark on more than once, should they get out of this predicament alive.

"Can you reach anything useful Napoleon? I see a rasp on top of that table, if you can somehow…"

"I can't. Can you wiggle out of the bindings? You're always doing some kind of gyrating, escape kind of … What?"

Illya was looking at his partner with the piercing glare he used on THRUSH interrogators.

"Gyrating? Really Napoleon?" As he was rebutting the notion of such things the slender Russian did somehow manage to slither out of the crudely assembled prison, heading first for his clothing that hung on a chair back, and to look for his gun and communicator. The pen like instrument was broken into two pieces. Fixing it would be a problem.

"Oh, hello… Have you forgotten something? Illya!" Napoleon still lay prone atop the plywood, his head turning from side to side as he attempted to keep track of his partner.

"Ouch! I think I have a splinter. Illya, I apologize for the gyrating remark. Now, please… get me off of this… this plank of wood."

A smirk of satisfaction shone on the blond's face.

"Fine, but I would appreciate it if you would not describe my obvious skills in escape methods in such unflattering terms. I find it offensive, on a professional level." Napoleon couldn't tell if Illya was kidding or not, but he vowed to not offend the sensitive Slav any more than necessary.

"Really Illya, you are an intemperate fellow, always complaining about … Never mind." The leather straps were all but cut through as the last words petered out of the CEA's mouth. Better to stay on the good side of Illya Kuryakin.

Finally dressed and ready to leave the woebegone place of their imprisonment, Solo and Kuryakin emerged into the desert landscape only to find that they were completely and utterly abandoned, with not a single vehicle in sight.

"Now what?" Illya looked to his partner, the one with the plan. The one who was supposed to have the plan.

"I … I guess we call for a pick up and hope someone hears us."

"My communicator is broken. Did you locate yours?"

"No."

"Walk?"

"Apparently."

And so the two set off on foot into the orange hues of a desert sunrise, neither prepared for what they would encounter next.