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section7mfuPart 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Prompt - I should have known better.
……………………………………….
It was disconcertingly easy for Napoleon to break into the Foxton clinic. For a place with apparent links to THRUSH, security was exceptionally lax. He easily picked the look of a rear door and slipped into what looked like a staff area. Opening the interior door, Napoleon found a reception area which, given the late hour, was deserted and in semi-darkness. Drawing his gun, he stepped out and began the search for his missing partner.
Years of experience told Napoleon he should look for a basement. Whoever the bad guy was, they all seemed to have the same predilection for keeping the nasty stuff underground. His inner voice reminded him that quite a large proportion of U.N.C.L.E. headquarters was beneath ground level, but he dismissed the thought. That sort of thing didn’t mean anything if you were the good guys.
Within a matter of minutes Solo had located the stairs to the lower level and very cautiously made his way down. As he reached the bottom, he peered around the corner and saw two burly looking orderlies. They were quite clearly guarding the door behind them. Neither man heard the soft ‘pfft’ of Napoleon’s special as fired off two darts which sent them into a blissful slumber. Dashing to the door, he looked through the grimy window and watched as Dr Foxton readied a syringe. Glancing at Illya, Napoleon was frowned at the amount of cuts and bruises he could see. There was a heavily torn hospital gown covering most of him, but if the Russian’s face was anything to go by, then his torso probably wasn’t pretty to look at either.
Before the doctor could inject his partner with whatever was in the syringe, Napoleon burst through the door and fired a sleep dart into the man’s neck. He went down almost immediately. Lifting his head, Illya offered his partner a slight smile.
“It’s about time you got here,” he whispered.
Napoleon returned the smile.
“Come on, Tovarisch,” he muttered, as he loosed Illya’s bonds and cut the tape from his hands. “Let’s get you out of here.”
As Kuryakin shifted in the chair, an unmistakeable scent assaulted Napoleon’s nostrils. Illya obviously hadn’t been allowed to go to the bathroom. Although he tried not to let his disgust show, he couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose up at the smell. The blond noticed the expression on Napoleon’s face and flushed bright red with embarrassment. The American sensed the other man’s humiliation and could understand it. He’d been in the same state himself on more than one occasion.
“Soon have you back at HQ,” Napoleon told him.
“Nyet!”
“Look, Illya, if it’s the mess, we can swing by my place and get you cleaned up first.”
“It’s not that,” Illya asserted. “I still have an assignment to complete. Although, I would appreciate getting clean and into my clothes first.”
Napoleon shook his head in exasperation. Illya was hurt, weak, and tired, but Solo knew it was a waste of time and energy arguing with him.
“I should have known better when it comes to that mile-wide stubborn streak of yours.”
With very deliberate care, he helped Illya to stand. Despite being immobile for two days, the Russian managed to get to his feet, albeit extremely shakily, and painfully. Each step caused Illya to gasp with pain but Napoleon could see his determination build with each one. The short journey to Illya’s room was going to take time, but get there they would.
To be continued.
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Prompt - I should have known better.
……………………………………….
It was disconcertingly easy for Napoleon to break into the Foxton clinic. For a place with apparent links to THRUSH, security was exceptionally lax. He easily picked the look of a rear door and slipped into what looked like a staff area. Opening the interior door, Napoleon found a reception area which, given the late hour, was deserted and in semi-darkness. Drawing his gun, he stepped out and began the search for his missing partner.
Years of experience told Napoleon he should look for a basement. Whoever the bad guy was, they all seemed to have the same predilection for keeping the nasty stuff underground. His inner voice reminded him that quite a large proportion of U.N.C.L.E. headquarters was beneath ground level, but he dismissed the thought. That sort of thing didn’t mean anything if you were the good guys.
Within a matter of minutes Solo had located the stairs to the lower level and very cautiously made his way down. As he reached the bottom, he peered around the corner and saw two burly looking orderlies. They were quite clearly guarding the door behind them. Neither man heard the soft ‘pfft’ of Napoleon’s special as fired off two darts which sent them into a blissful slumber. Dashing to the door, he looked through the grimy window and watched as Dr Foxton readied a syringe. Glancing at Illya, Napoleon was frowned at the amount of cuts and bruises he could see. There was a heavily torn hospital gown covering most of him, but if the Russian’s face was anything to go by, then his torso probably wasn’t pretty to look at either.
Before the doctor could inject his partner with whatever was in the syringe, Napoleon burst through the door and fired a sleep dart into the man’s neck. He went down almost immediately. Lifting his head, Illya offered his partner a slight smile.
“It’s about time you got here,” he whispered.
Napoleon returned the smile.
“Come on, Tovarisch,” he muttered, as he loosed Illya’s bonds and cut the tape from his hands. “Let’s get you out of here.”
As Kuryakin shifted in the chair, an unmistakeable scent assaulted Napoleon’s nostrils. Illya obviously hadn’t been allowed to go to the bathroom. Although he tried not to let his disgust show, he couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose up at the smell. The blond noticed the expression on Napoleon’s face and flushed bright red with embarrassment. The American sensed the other man’s humiliation and could understand it. He’d been in the same state himself on more than one occasion.
“Soon have you back at HQ,” Napoleon told him.
“Nyet!”
“Look, Illya, if it’s the mess, we can swing by my place and get you cleaned up first.”
“It’s not that,” Illya asserted. “I still have an assignment to complete. Although, I would appreciate getting clean and into my clothes first.”
Napoleon shook his head in exasperation. Illya was hurt, weak, and tired, but Solo knew it was a waste of time and energy arguing with him.
“I should have known better when it comes to that mile-wide stubborn streak of yours.”
With very deliberate care, he helped Illya to stand. Despite being immobile for two days, the Russian managed to get to his feet, albeit extremely shakily, and painfully. Each step caused Illya to gasp with pain but Napoleon could see his determination build with each one. The short journey to Illya’s room was going to take time, but get there they would.
To be continued.
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