section7mfu | The Academic Life - Short Affair

Prompts: Library/Crimson
Word Count: 977 (approx)

(Can't believe I managed to write something under 1000 words! Brevity is not my strong suit.)

The Academic Life

There were places where it was appropriate to indulge in a gunfight and places where really the very idea was just tacky, in Illya's opinion anyway. And really, the library at Trinity College, Cambridge should be completely out of bounds. He would have thought even THRUSH valued knowledge enough to respect that.

Although it wasn't just THRUSH he had to worry about right now he thought, as a dart passed just over his head and forcibly struck through a shelf just over to the left, sending papers flying everywhere. From safe behind the reshelving trolley he'd taken cover behind, he turned and glared up towards the mezzanine where his partner was firing from. “Be careful, Napoleon,” he scolded. “I'd had hopes of reading some of those journals while we were here.”

“Well, why don't you tell me what I can shoot at then,” came the exasperated reply. He couldn't see Napoleon's face from here, but he could easily imagine the expression on his face.

“THRUSH,” he said, knowing it was certain to annoy. “Shoot at THRUSH. Please.”

“Smart alec Russian,” Napoleon said, shooting towards the other side of the mezzanine at something – or hopefully, someone – out of Illya's sight. “Is that the sort of clever thinking they teach round here?”

“I studied physics,” he reminded Napoleon. “Not espionage.” Although as they both knew he'd already been working for the KGB even while he'd studied here. He'd liked the academic life though. He remembered studying in this very library, long into the night. His favourite table had been right over there.....and now he looked, one of the THRUSH agents was currently taking cover behind it. What's more, he'd overturned it, breaking the legs off.

With a sigh, Illya took careful aim and shot the man with a sleep dart. He couldn't help but think it would have been nice to have that option in previous times when people stole his seat.

He got another THRUSH agent as he peered out from between the stacks, and another dropped down off the mezzanine, courtesy of Napoleon.

“Was that the last of them?” Napoleon called down to him. “I'm out of darts.”

“I counted five,” he said, and certainly five men were down and no one was currently shooting at them. Cautiously, he stood up and looked around and groaned at the mess. Shelves overturned, books scattered, torn and, in some unfortunate cases, peppered with bullet holes. “This is going to be very difficult to explain,” he said with feeling.

“Oh, suddenly the clean up matters when you've got your reunion this evening,” Napoleon said, leaning over the railing.

He glanced up. “It is not a reunion, my old tutor merely invited me to come along to formal hall for dinner, since I was in town.” But he'd been pleased to be asked, pleased to be remembered for his academic prowess rather than anything else, and it was going to be exceedingly awkward to explain that the devastation of the library had been necessary in order to save three Nobel laureates. “You know, he said you would be welcome to join us.”

“Several hours spent listening to a bunch of dusty academics talk science?” Napoleon wrinkled his nose. “I think I'll pass.”

“Suit yourself,” he said with a shrug. “The food is also - “

“ - alright, stay exactly where you are and don't try anything!”

Ah. Apparently his count was off. There had been six of them after all, and the last was standing right in front of him, pointing a gun at his head. He had to admit, this served him right for being distracted by the sight of the ruined books.

“Drop your gun and put your hands above your head,” the man went on.

He obeyed, slowly, conscious of Napoleon moving stealthily above him. Was it possible the THRUSH agent hadn't realised there was two of them?

Apparently so, since all his attention was on Illya. His lip curled back exposing yellowed teeth. “I'm going to get a nice bonus for killing you,” he said.

Illya smiled. “Look up,” he advised.

Instinctively, his would-be-killer did – just in time to be struck in the face by an exceedingly thick and apparently exceptionally heavy book. Illya darted forwards ready to snatch his gun but it was needless; the man was already out cold.

He looked up to see Napoleon back lounging on the railing, a wide smile on his face.

“A nice shot,” Illya conceded. “Thank you.”

Napoleon's smile grew wider. “Look at the book,” he said.

Blinking, he did. It was bound in crimson leather with gold writing across the front. An Introduction to Comparative Art Philosophy. He sighed.

“I bet you never thought you'd be saved by the liberal arts,” Napoleon told him.

“In the circumstances, any book of similar weight would have been effective,” he pointed out. “I promise you, there are many very well respected scientists who are just as incapable of coming to the point.”

“Oh, yes,” Napoleon said innocently. “I'm well aware that scientists can be extremely boring, you don't need to - “

They stopped short at the sound of high heels clacking along the stone floor towards them.

Exchanging a quick apprehensive glance with Napoleon, Illya moved towards the door, gun drawn. He had no wish to be taken by surprise for a third time, but it was a librarian who walked through the door, all tweed skirt and pearls.

For a long moment, she just gazed speechlessly around at the wreckage of the library, the ruined books, the broken furniture, the unconscious men. Then she looked up at Illya, still uncomfortably pointing a gun at her and raised a trembling finger to her lips.

“Shhhhh,” she said. And that was that.