'Illya's great escape- or so that's what he'll tell his Napoleon" ~ for the Short Affair

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Challenge: The Short Affair

-Prompt Word #1 - Traffic

-Prompt Colour – White

Author: mrua7

Title: Illya's great escape, or that's what he'll tell Napoleon

Word Count: Approximately 850

Illya Kuryakin gazed upwards, his eyes focusing on the white billowing clouds that were drifting along in a brilliant blue sky.

He could never see quite the fanciful images that others saw in them,  thinking he lacked the imagination for such a thing. Being too much a realist he supposed contributed to that frame of mind.  To him everything was facts in black and white….not blue and white. Still he stared at the clouds trying to see what others did.

Illya wished he could think of them as more rather than merely large collections of very tiny droplets of ice crystals, so small and light that they float in the air.

Considering they were probably the last thing he was going to see before dying; he felt a little sad he could only think of them as ice crystals and nothing more.

He refused to look at the soldiers as they trundled into the courtyard, like a little line of traffic, backed up as the first man was walking too slowly and the others nearly piled up on each other as he stopped and sneezed.

The Commandant, standing to one side, pinched the bridge of his nose as he shook his head at the incompetence of his men. They were all he had in this hell hole of an outpost in the middle of no where.

He stepped towards the UNCLE agent, drawing a piece of cloth from his pocket and offering it as a blindfold to the blond.

Illya refused, again shifting his gaze upwards to the sky, focusing on the clouds as they continued to drift past.  If he was going to die, he would at least be looking at something beautiful, soft and perhaps welcoming like a good bed. He snickered to himself…did he just think of a cloud as a bed? He tried staring harder, trying to free his sense of perception and letting it become a flight of fancy, but no it wasn’t happening.  They were still just clouds.

The Commandant stepped a few feet away from the Russian, raising his hand, still holding the blindfold like a flag.

“Señor Kuryakin, you have been found guilty of espionage and have been sentenced to death by firing squad. Do you have any last words?”

“Yes I do. These ropes are cutting into my wrists, and since I am going to die might they be loosened so they do not add to my final pain?” Illya figured it was worth a shot. “I am facing a firing squad, surely you know there is nothing I can do? Grant a dying man his last wish, would you?”

Commandant Esteban thought for a moment. “Certainly, I have no problem with that,” he snapped his fingers, signalling for one of the men to take care of Kuryakin’s request.

The soldier handed his rifle to another and quickly stepped forward, undoing the ropes. Illya could have easily slipped his hands free, but he waited. Somehow he had a feeling he’d have an opening to make good an escape very soon. As Mark Slate would say, these fellows were ten pence short of a pound.”

The soldier in his haste to return to the firing line tripped himself, landing face first on the dusty ground. He quickly picked himself up and hurried red-faced to his place beside his fellow soldiers, avoiding the angry gaze of his superior.

“Ready!” The Commandant called out, glaring his annoyance at his inept men.

Illya looked up to the clouds again, letting them have his full attention now, just in case. He could hear the bolts being cocked on the rifles and he held his breath, facing the reality that death was most likely going to be his means of escape.

“Aim!” After pausing for a brief second, the final command was given.

“Fire!”

Illya continued breathing, there was no pain because the fools had missed him, and instead they’d shot their Commandant.

They were so busy bemoaning what they’d done, running in circles like Keystone cops before seeing to the man. He was truly dead and they were so focused on that that they didn’t see Kuryakin step away from the post where he’d been tied.

Illya, keeping a wary eye on them, tiptoed across the courtyard until he was able to make a run for it out the front gate and to his freedom.

He couldn’t believe his good fortune at being held prisoner by such bolvans...but then again he had been idiot enough to have let himself be captured by them in the first place.

Napoleon was never going to believe this nor would he ever let him live it down.

Perhaps it was time for some creative writing when it came to doing his report on this one...for brevity’s sake, as well as to protect himself from Solo's pernicious puns.

Comments

[jantojones.livejournal.com]

I agree with Illya. Nobody, especially Napoleon, needs to know all the details. I had to feel a little sorry for the commandant. He didn't stand a chance with troops like those. Good story :-)

[laurose8.livejournal.com]

Thanks for a fun fic. I loved the part about Illya and the clouds. (I originally typo-ed 'Illya and the clowns'; you can see why.)

I do wonder just how accidental that bad aim was...all of them? Perhaps it shows how treating armed men as Thrush minions isn't as safe as the Thrush manual says.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Chucke! I deliberately didn't say how many men were in the firing squad as too many left a margin of error for one or two who wouldn't miss. Yes, was their aim that bad and was it deliberate on their part and acting like Keystone cops in the frenzied grief all an act? Perhaps it was mere luck that they hit the Commandant?

Love your THRUSH manual reference.

Thanks for the great comment!

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thank you! Yes was it an accident or wasn't it? Illya didn't waste time thinking about it and took advantage of the situation, didn't he? "D

Thanks for the comment and glad you liked the story. Funny how everyone is using the same prompts. If Glenna can get hers going I bet she'll use the other prompt...intuition, I think.

[irisheitie.livejournal.com]

Sounds like F troop!

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

LOL! Thank you! I didn't think of that, though lucky there wasn't a canny Sergeant around to keep them in line.Thanks for reading and the great analogy!

[otherhawk.livejournal.com]

Oh, this was great, thank you - and I can't help but think that if he did decide to include exactly what happened in his report no one would believe it anyway. And see, what I'm wondering is just where was the commandant standing....right in front of the firing squad maybe, lol.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

I had the Commandant only take a few steps back so in a subtle way he was standing too close, yet did his men miss Illya on purpose? Was their panic at killing their superior officer an act? IK didn't stick around to find out.

Someone said this sort of reminded them of and old TV show called "F Troop"...US solders at a fort in Indian territory during the late 1800's. Their aim was always off no matter how hard they tried, especially when shooting their canon. They blew up the guard tower every time. chuckle.

Glad you enjoyed the story and thanks for the comment.

[lindafishes8.livejournal.com]

You drew out the tension like a blade, while making us laugh at the same time. Well done.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Ewww, drew out the tension like a blade...I like that! I may borrow it! "D Thank you and glad you enjoyed the story!