The Spirit of Cooperation - Short Affair - 14th September

[otherhawk.livejournal.com]

Prompt Word - Hunt
Prompt Colour - Silver
Word Count - 924
Title - The Spirit of Cooperation

“Perhaps Mr Waverly will be content with silver?” Illya suggested gloomily as the CIA team vanished beyond the tree line, captured flags in hand.

Napoleon sighed and lowered his gun. These paint guns were barely accurate over thirty feet. He'd missed two shots he knew he would have made with his special and, as it was concealed in an ankle holster, it had been a real temptation. “I doubt it,” he said in response. “I suspect his attitude is more 'Come home with gold or don't come home at all.'”

“Ah.” Illya considered this for a moment. “That is the sort of attitude that encourages defection.”

He grinned. “If you want to go try and join the FBI, be my guest,” he invited. “But I'm not sure they'll have you.” Certainly they'd been glaring suspiciously at him over breakfast, even going so far as to move to another table, although that could have been to keep their bacon hoard safe from the secret service. “Otherwise, let's go get the CIA.”

“All in the spirit of inter-agency cooperation of course,“ Illya said, straight-faced.

That was what this was supposed to be about. Their official orders were to observe, learn and make positive contacts among their contemporaries. Unofficially.... “This is the sort of cooperation that involves showing who's best.”

Illya smiled briefly. “How familiar.”

Napoleon ignored him. Friendly competition was perfectly natural. “Alright. They're heading east and their base is, what?”

“Four miles north,” Illya told him. “But they'll be heading for the ridge in order to avoid....” He stopped and fixed Napoleon with a sharp look.

“The cliffs,” Napoleon agreed brightly.

“The fifty foot high near-vertical cliffs, you mean?”

“Those are the ones.” He smiled. “Did you have something better to do? If we get to their base first we can ambush them.”

“We can do better than that,” Illya said. “Have you noticed these guns come apart?”

He recognised the gleam in his partner's eyes and he wasn't certain they were sticking to the rules anymore, but no matter. The CIA wouldn't know what hit them. All in the spirit of cooperation, naturally.

*

Fortunately he had a length of micro-rope concealed in his belt and Illya had a couple of pitons in his shoes so the climb wasn't as bad as it might have been. He wondered whether they were the only ones who had packed for the conference like they were going on a mission. Probably not.

“That should put us at least half an hour ahead of the CIA,” Illya told him.

He nodded. That sounded about right. And the secret service, FBI and NSA were already out of the game. “They'll have guards,” he commented.

“And probably traps,” Illya agreed. Certainly they'd left Corwin and Lewis to defend their base and flag while he and Illya went on the hunt. They had the FBI flag while the CIA had the NSA and the secret service. But that was going to change.

“You're going to need to lure them out here,” Illya said. “And I need your gun.”

“You never want to make it easy for me, do you?” he said, giving up his paintgun with a sigh.

“Easy bores you,” Illya told him accurately. “Try not to get shot. We will lose bonus points.”

“You're all heart,” Napoleon called after him as he disappeared into the trees.

He found a whole row of traps along the perimeter. Fairly sophisticated, considering the time constraints. Taking careful note of the positions, he quickly gathered a bunch of large rocks and took refuge in a tree, throwing the rocks to set off the traps in quick succession to create the impression of someone – or something – rapidly moving through the trees and at the end he gave a loud, bloodcurdling scream. “Oh, God, it's a bear! Help! Help me!” He threw a few more rocks to make the bushes rustle and smiled as he spotted the movement in the trees as the CIA came to check it out. That should give Illya enough time and he quickly moved through the treetops towards the CIA base.

He found Illya stretched out on a branch just overlooking it, eyes closed and arms folded, and took a seat beside him. “Thanks for helping with the bear, by the way,” he whispered.

Illya didn't open his eyes. “I knew it was not real. I could hear the fear in your voice. We have encountered bears before, remember? You reacted with irony, not fear.”

He raised an eyebrow. “So if you'd heard irony....?”

“I'd have come running,” Illya assured him.

“Good to know.” He leaned forwards. “Wait.”

The guards had apparently met up with the hunters and the four CIA agents were walking back to their base, guns drawn and looking around themselves cautiously. Too bad they were looking for the wrong danger.

As soon as they crossed the threshold, Illya produced a radio detonator that definitely hadn't been on the equipment list for the weekend, and triggered it with an unholy smile.

There was a soft whumph and a second later the CIA base was completely covered in paint, and the four agents were standing there, coated from head to toe, and seemingly in a state of shock.

With a smile, Napoleon dropped down from the tree and sauntered up to them, Illya a step behind. He collected the three flags easily. “Better luck next year, fellas,” he said cheerfully.