section7mfu | Contact - Short Affair

Prompts – Scratch/Gold
Word Count (approx.) – 450

Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin entered the bar and were instantly on the look-out for their contact. The description they’d been given was of a fair-haired, bearded man, of average height. He was apparently wearing a dark suit with a red tie. The pair were immediately presented with a problem.

“There are two men who match the man we’re looking for,” Kuryakin observed.

There were indeed two men who fit the description; one at either end of the bar.

“We’ll take one each,” Napoleon replied. “Whoever gets the right man will leave with him, and the other with catch up later.”

They split up, with Illya taking the man farthest from the door. He slid onto the stool beside his target and ordered a drink. Taking a sidelong glance at the man, Illya was struck by the amount of gold jewellery he was wearing. There was a ring on every finger, a chunky bracelet and watch, and chunky necklace. The presence of the gold made Illya nervous. If this man wasn’t their contact, then the code phrase was probably going to cause him quite a few problems.

“What are you looking at?” the man snarled.

“Scratch away the surface gold and you’ll reveal the tin beneath.”

“Say what?!”

Despite knowing the situation was going to end badly, Illya repeated the phrase.

At the other end of the bar, Napoleon greeted the man he had aimed for, which a cheery nod.

“Scratch away the surface gold and you’ll reveal the tin beneath,” he said quietly.

“The worth is not brought by the gold.”

As the two men stood to leave, their attention was caught by a commotion at Illya’s end of the bar. The Russian was being hauled to his feet by an extremely angry looking man. Napoleon winced as a large fist connected with his partner’s eye. Ordinarily, he would have gone to Illya’s aid, but that would have put the whole operation at risk. The contact was in possession of some very sensitive information and he needed to get to HQ as soon as possible.

With a touch of regret, Napoleon, and the contact, left Illya to fend for himself.

…………………………………………………………………………………….

When Illya returned to headquarters, one side of his face was already puffy and bruised.

“Oh hey, Tovarisch,” he said a little too breezily, as the Russian entered their office. “Did you win?”

“Of course I did,” Illya told him with pride. “But tell me Napoleon, why is it always me who gets the worst of it?”

Several quips flitted through the American’s mind, but for once, he let them slide.

“Come on, I’ll buy you a couple of steaks. Once to eat, and one for your face.”