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section7mfuShort Affair 2/22
Prompt: Peek
Color: Yellow
Title: Everyone Knows It's Windy
Author: Rose of Pollux
Word Count: ~970
Napoleon had spent enough time in the Midwest to know what the cloud-filled, yellow-green sky meant. They were right smack in the middle of Tornado Alley, and it was about to live up to its name.
Illya had noticed the yellow and green hues to the sky, but hadn’t understood the significance. He did know that they were in for a storm, but he had other things on his mind; they were in hot pursuit of a runaway THRUSH agent, who had been fleeing into the nearest small town in an attempt to get away from Napoleon and Illya, in addition to the imminent storm.
Napoleon had been keeping an eye on the weather, and he decided that he had to make a call regarding the safety of himself and his partner; even if the THRUSH grunt got away, it was more important that Illya and he were both safe to chase THRUSH down another day. His decision made, Napoleon pulled the car to the side of Main Street.
“What are you doing?” Illya asked, baffled. “This isn’t where that THRUSH grunt stopped!”
“Don’t you notice something a little odd about the sky?” Napoleon asked, getting out of the car.
“I will agree, it has taken on some odd hues,” Illya admitted. His eyes suddenly widened. “Ah, of course; this is one of those bizarre weather patterns, is it not? The funnel clouds with the great winds—the tornadoes?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what this is. Come with me.”
Without waiting for Illya to even start on his own, Napoleon had darted around to the passenger side of the car and practically dragged Illya out of the vehicle. Napoleon glanced around Main Street, trying to find the best place to go to for shelter, and he settled on a diner, hoping that there’d be someone who could tell them where to go.
Napoleon was halfway through the diner entrance when he realized that his partner wasn’t with him; he looked back to see the Russian staring up at the sky.
“Illya!” he called, sternly.
The sound of his voice seemed to draw his partner from whatever trance the storm had him in. He quickly darted over to Napoleon’s side and followed him into the diner.
“I have been curious about this tornadic phenomenon for a long time--ever since my babushka told me about one time in Moscow, years ago—1904, it was—she saw one of those funnel clouds,” Illya said. “Apparently, there was another one nearly fifty miles from Moscow in 1956, but I was training in Survival School at the time. I have not had the chance to see one before.”
“Not to tank your scientific curiosity, Tovarisch, but I’d really rather you never get to see one,” Napoleon said, and he turned to the cook and a couple of waitresses, who were nervously standing behind the counter, listening to the radio. He showed them his U.N.C.L.E. ID briefly before getting right to the point. “If I were you, I’d get to somewhere sturdy—right now. Is there a storm cellar nearby?”
One of the waitresses shook her head.
“A walk-in freezer?” Napoleon asked. “Or a storeroom with no windows?”
“We’ve got both, but there’s too much stuff in the storeroom for us to stay in there,” the cook said. “And the freezer is… freezing.”
“I can guarantee that anything that tornado throws at you will be worse than spending some time in that icebox,” Napoleon said. “Alright, everyone get in there—take the radio with you.”
Napoleon began ushering them towards the freezer, pausing to turn back to Illya. The Russian nodded and followed him, but turned back one last time, trying to catch a peek of the storm through the rain and hail pelting against the glass. A flash of lightning briefly lit up the yellow-green sky, but it wasn’t long enough for him to get a good look—and Napoleon looked about ready to drag him away again.
The cook and the waitresses were complaining about the cold as Napoleon and Illya closed the door of the freezer. Napoleon ignored them, instead focusing his attention on his partner. Illya still seemed morbidly curious as to what was going on outside; Napoleon had to wonder in times like this as to what on Earth went on in his partner’s mind.
Minutes went by, and the storm grew louder outside; the electricity eventually failed, plunging the freezer into darkness as the wind roared like a freight train outside.
“Brace yourselves!” Napoleon yelled over the wind.
Not waiting to ask as to whether or not Illya knew the proper stance to take in order to protect himself as best as possible, Napoleon used himself as a human shield for his partner while covering the back of his own head as best he could. Illya didn’t fight him; on the contrary, it seemed that the Russian had finally begun to express a healthy amount of fear regarding their situation.
Everything was shaking, the wind was roaring, and Napoleon distinctly heard the sounds of many very large things breaking all around them.
And then, it was over—quiet, so very quiet. Their little shelter of a freezer had succeeded in protecting them—just barely. And Napoleon muttered a slight prayer of thanks under his breath as everyone reaffirmed that they were more or less alright—albeit rather shaken. And Illya was noticeably rather out of it as Napoleon helped him.
“Congratulations, Tovarisch,” Napoleon said, trying to cheer him up. “You got your wish. You just survived your first tornado.”
Illya gave a nod.
“Da. And hopefully, it will be my last tornado.”
“And now you’re finally talking sense,” Napoleon said, clapping him on the back.
Illya managed a smile at that.
“Napoleon… thank you.” For everything—for protecting me.
“Anytime, Tovarisch. Anytime.”
Prompt: Peek
Color: Yellow
Title: Everyone Knows It's Windy
Author: Rose of Pollux
Word Count: ~970
Napoleon had spent enough time in the Midwest to know what the cloud-filled, yellow-green sky meant. They were right smack in the middle of Tornado Alley, and it was about to live up to its name.
Illya had noticed the yellow and green hues to the sky, but hadn’t understood the significance. He did know that they were in for a storm, but he had other things on his mind; they were in hot pursuit of a runaway THRUSH agent, who had been fleeing into the nearest small town in an attempt to get away from Napoleon and Illya, in addition to the imminent storm.
Napoleon had been keeping an eye on the weather, and he decided that he had to make a call regarding the safety of himself and his partner; even if the THRUSH grunt got away, it was more important that Illya and he were both safe to chase THRUSH down another day. His decision made, Napoleon pulled the car to the side of Main Street.
“What are you doing?” Illya asked, baffled. “This isn’t where that THRUSH grunt stopped!”
“Don’t you notice something a little odd about the sky?” Napoleon asked, getting out of the car.
“I will agree, it has taken on some odd hues,” Illya admitted. His eyes suddenly widened. “Ah, of course; this is one of those bizarre weather patterns, is it not? The funnel clouds with the great winds—the tornadoes?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what this is. Come with me.”
Without waiting for Illya to even start on his own, Napoleon had darted around to the passenger side of the car and practically dragged Illya out of the vehicle. Napoleon glanced around Main Street, trying to find the best place to go to for shelter, and he settled on a diner, hoping that there’d be someone who could tell them where to go.
Napoleon was halfway through the diner entrance when he realized that his partner wasn’t with him; he looked back to see the Russian staring up at the sky.
“Illya!” he called, sternly.
The sound of his voice seemed to draw his partner from whatever trance the storm had him in. He quickly darted over to Napoleon’s side and followed him into the diner.
“I have been curious about this tornadic phenomenon for a long time--ever since my babushka told me about one time in Moscow, years ago—1904, it was—she saw one of those funnel clouds,” Illya said. “Apparently, there was another one nearly fifty miles from Moscow in 1956, but I was training in Survival School at the time. I have not had the chance to see one before.”
“Not to tank your scientific curiosity, Tovarisch, but I’d really rather you never get to see one,” Napoleon said, and he turned to the cook and a couple of waitresses, who were nervously standing behind the counter, listening to the radio. He showed them his U.N.C.L.E. ID briefly before getting right to the point. “If I were you, I’d get to somewhere sturdy—right now. Is there a storm cellar nearby?”
One of the waitresses shook her head.
“A walk-in freezer?” Napoleon asked. “Or a storeroom with no windows?”
“We’ve got both, but there’s too much stuff in the storeroom for us to stay in there,” the cook said. “And the freezer is… freezing.”
“I can guarantee that anything that tornado throws at you will be worse than spending some time in that icebox,” Napoleon said. “Alright, everyone get in there—take the radio with you.”
Napoleon began ushering them towards the freezer, pausing to turn back to Illya. The Russian nodded and followed him, but turned back one last time, trying to catch a peek of the storm through the rain and hail pelting against the glass. A flash of lightning briefly lit up the yellow-green sky, but it wasn’t long enough for him to get a good look—and Napoleon looked about ready to drag him away again.
The cook and the waitresses were complaining about the cold as Napoleon and Illya closed the door of the freezer. Napoleon ignored them, instead focusing his attention on his partner. Illya still seemed morbidly curious as to what was going on outside; Napoleon had to wonder in times like this as to what on Earth went on in his partner’s mind.
Minutes went by, and the storm grew louder outside; the electricity eventually failed, plunging the freezer into darkness as the wind roared like a freight train outside.
“Brace yourselves!” Napoleon yelled over the wind.
Not waiting to ask as to whether or not Illya knew the proper stance to take in order to protect himself as best as possible, Napoleon used himself as a human shield for his partner while covering the back of his own head as best he could. Illya didn’t fight him; on the contrary, it seemed that the Russian had finally begun to express a healthy amount of fear regarding their situation.
Everything was shaking, the wind was roaring, and Napoleon distinctly heard the sounds of many very large things breaking all around them.
And then, it was over—quiet, so very quiet. Their little shelter of a freezer had succeeded in protecting them—just barely. And Napoleon muttered a slight prayer of thanks under his breath as everyone reaffirmed that they were more or less alright—albeit rather shaken. And Illya was noticeably rather out of it as Napoleon helped him.
“Congratulations, Tovarisch,” Napoleon said, trying to cheer him up. “You got your wish. You just survived your first tornado.”
Illya gave a nod.
“Da. And hopefully, it will be my last tornado.”
“And now you’re finally talking sense,” Napoleon said, clapping him on the back.
Illya managed a smile at that.
“Napoleon… thank you.” For everything—for protecting me.
“Anytime, Tovarisch. Anytime.”
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