"A sight for sore eyes"~ by mrua7 for The Short Affair 2/8/16

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Challenge: The Short Affair

Prompt Word #1 - Grasp

-Prompt Colour – Blue

Title: A sight for sore eyes

Author: mrua7

Word count: Approximately 800

He snorted, gasping for air as the grasp of the interrogator’s hand tightened around his throat, cutting off his air supply. His hands and feet tied to a metal chair prevented him from moving to try to defend himself.

Napoleon couldn’t breathe, and the man knew it; seeing the UNCLE agent’s eyes begin to bulge as he struggled to get one last bit of air. Soon he’d pass out, and if the pressure was maintained on the throat, the blood flow to the brain would be cut off.

That would be the end of the great Napoleon Solo.

For a split second Ivan Travnikov could see a hint of terror in the American’s eyes. Solo’s face was beginning to turn blue as cyanosis was setting in.

It was at that moment Ivan released his grip and watched as Solo sputtered and gasped as he tried to inhale.

“Are you going to tell me where it is?”

Napoleon didn’t answer, instead his head flopped backwards as he’d passed out.

“Solo?” Travnikov leaned in towards him, and in a split second Napoleon brought his head forward, head butting the man.

Ivan staggered backwards, his forehead bloody from a small cut caused by the blow.

He reached to his shoulder holster, pulling his pistol and pointed it at Napoleon.

“Enough, either you give me what I want or I will begin shooting off your toes one at a time, followed by your fingers, then your ears and nose and finally one body part I have heard you highly treasure.”

“Just kill me and get it over with Travnikov,” Napoleon snarled with all the bravado he could muster.”I’m not going to tell you anything.”

“Now you know I can not do that Mr. Solo. All right, perhaps I will start with a larger target instead and work my way down to your other parts.” He pulled the trigger, shooting Napoleon in the thigh.

Solo moaned, biting his lip, not giving Ivan any satisfaction. Surprisingly it was a small caliber bullet, most likely a .22, so the damage was not anywhere near as bad as it could have been.

“Go to hell Ivan.”

“I think you will see it before I do Solo.” He pulled the trigger, shooting the other thigh.

Napoleon grunted, but maintained his composure in spite of the pain.

“Impressive Mr. Solo, but let us see how long your tolerance for pain will last.”

He pulled off Napoleon’s left shoe, preparing to shoot yet again.”

“Ohhhh, good,”Solo groaned, "and here I thought you were going to ruin my expensive shoe by shooting through it.”

Ivan shook his head; amazed this agent could still maintain a sense of humor in spite of having be strangled and shot twice.

He bent over, bringing the pistol close to Napoleon’s big toe, but suddenly he stood straight up as if surprised by something.

Travnikov stiffened before toppling over; a throwing knife embedded in his back.

Behind him stood Illya Kuryakin, pale and bloodied from his own session with Ivan.

“How did you escape tovarisch?” Napoleon whispered as his partner cut his bindings.

“I played dead. I used an old Indian technique favored by the fakirs...slowed my heartbeat enough to make our friend think he had killed me. I see he was coming close to doing that to you my friend.”

Illya grabbed the body of Travnikov and after retrieving his knife he sliced away Ivan's shirt, tearing it and using it to make tourniquets for Solo’s legs.

He hefted Napoleon to his feet, supporting him as they limped out of Ivan’s torture chamber together.

Taking respite in a study; they found their communicators and called for help, stating they would regrettably be needing medical attention, yet again.

Illya poured a drink from a crystal decanter, offering it to Napoleon who declined with a wave of his hand.

“Thanks for the timely rescue,” he whispered.

“My pleasure as always,” Illya suddenly flopped down on the sofa beside his partner, as he suddenly felt a bit light headed.

“Take it easy and pace yourself, remember help is on the way.”

“Mmm, I know,” he sighed. “Do you not get a little tired of this happening to us all the time? It would be nice to finish an assignment without having to end up in hospital.”

“Such is our lot in life tovarisch,” Napoleon winked. “We’re the good guys and the bad guys will do anything to stop us, and we them.”

Both their heads snapped to attention as they heard a noise.

April Dancer suddenly appeared with her weapon drawn.

“Somebody call for help?” She gave her fellow agents the once over.

”Well aren’t you two a sight.”

“And you’re a sight for sore eyes,” Napoleon replied.

“Hmm, don’t you two ever not get hurt. Poor darlings. An ambulance just pulled up in the driveway.”

“Perfect timing, and we were just talking about that,” Solo mumbled just before he passed out.

A second later Illya followed suit.

Comments

[rose-of-pollux.livejournal.com]

Ooh, ouch, interesting to see Napoleon on the hurt side--though clearly Illya didn't escape unscathed, either.

April's got her hands full...

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thank you! Lately I've been thinking that Napoleon needs to have his fair share of boo-boos. (chuckle) April will visit them in the hospital, and if she's smart she'll let it go at that, at least with Napoleon who'll want to be babied. (given I have the two of them have a history, she'll probably oblige him) Illya doesn't like to be babied so he won't feel slighted if she does take care of Solo. "D