
Prompts – Figure/Black
Word Count (approx.) – 461
The figure in black stalked through the darkness, carefully avoiding the people who were blundering about in the sudden lack of light. The power for the whole complex had shut down less than a minute previously, spurring the occupants into searching for the problem. The man responsible, Napoleon Solo, was waiting outside for his black clad partner to perform his side of the plan. As he moved from room to room, planting explosive charges along the way, Illya Kuryakin figured he had all of eight minutes left before the power would be restored.
The building had been determined to be a production facility for many of the drugs THRUSH used to torment and interrogate their prisoners. Upon learning this, Illya had immediately volunteered himself to destroy the facility. Knowing all too well how much Kuryakin had suffered, not just from the drugs, but also from the side effects he often experienced, Waverly was happy to allow him, and Solo, to take on the task. Besides, the Old Man wanted the complex obliterated, and the Russian was, by far, the finest explosives expert he had.
Fifteen minutes before Napoleon had cut the power, Illya had entered the building, and secreted himself away in a lightless cubbyhole. He would have preferred it to have been longer, but it was too risky. He’d calculated that fifteen minutes would be just about enough for his night vision to reach its peak. Illya proceeded swiftly, having memorised the ground plan, and within minutes found himself at the main production room. It took very little time for him to place the charges he had remaining; he would detonate them once he was clear of the building. If he’d planned things correctly, he had two and a half minutes to get out.
Unfortunately, Illya had miscalculated.
He was still about a minute from safety when the power returned and the lights came on. Temporarily blinded, Illya didn’t see the guard until he ran into him.
“What do we have here then?” the unformed man growled, slamming Illya into the wall. “It seems to be a tiny burglar.”
“Who are you calling tiny?” Illya snarled in return, before driving a fist into the man’s stomach.
The guard fell back with a gasp, but was quick enough to grab the intruder’s ankle as he tried to run. Illya landed face first, dazing himself as his head made contact with the floor. Rolling away as the guard prepared to strike again, he came to a decision he hadn’t wanted to make. However, he couldn’t allow time for the explosives to be found before he could have a chance to discharge them. Feeling for the detonator on his watch, Illya mumbled an apology to Napoleon, and set the cascade of charges away.
To be continued.
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Date: 2015-09-29 03:01 am (UTC)Please don't keep me teetering on the edge of my seat too long.
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Date: 2015-09-29 12:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-09-29 03:23 am (UTC)Seriously? I mean... seriously? Keep writing.
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