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section7mfu2016-03-21 01:05 pm
rose-of-pollux.livejournal.com) wrote in section7mfu2016-03-21 01:05 pm
Entry tags:
"In the Dark" (Short Affair Challenge 3/21)
Short Affair 3/21
Prompt: Loose
Color: Gray
Title: In the Dark
Author: Rose of Pollux
Word Count: ~620
THRUSH was getting more creative in their choice of hideouts, although one had to admit that an abandoned Bavarian castle was rather practical; it was close enough for Berlin to keep an eye on both sides of the city and to gauge how things were going, allowing THRUSH to act accordingly when it came to provoking either side.
And THRUSH was now finding their castle stronghold invaded by a Russian searching for an American. But this was no casualty of the Cold War; it was a mission of mercy, for THRUSH had taken this American with the intent to extract whatever information they could from him regarding U.N.C.L.E. And the Russian was the American’s partner.
It was in an underground passageway built of cold, gray stones that the Russian ran into trouble; several THRUSH agents waylaid him, and the Russian fought back with the sleeping darts, but just as he was firing a dart at the last agent, the agent sprayed a canister of something into the Russian’s eyes.
The agent fell as the Russian swore in his native tongue, trying to wipe the substance out of his eyes. He froze as, looking around, he realized he couldn’t see a thing; whatever that substance had been, it had impaired his vision.
Cursing quietly, he held a hand to the wall to guide him down the corridor, hoping he was heading the right way out. He was soon aware of an angry voice snarling to someone to speak up. The Russian snarled an insult right back at him; he heard the man turn and run towards him. The Russian fired a sleeping dart and heard the man fall.
It was as the Russian listened for signs of any other men that a familiar scent reached his nostrils--bay rum.
“Napoleon?” he asked, quietly.
“…Illya?”
Illya followed the sound of his partner’s voice and the scent of the bay rum to feel the distinct shape of a man tied to the wall by his arms.
“I knew it was you,” Illya sighed, as he fumbled for the source of where the ropes tied his partner to the wall. “You always douse yourself with that stuff.”
“You can’t see?” Napoleon asked, observing the Russian’s actions.
“No; they sprayed something in my eyes. I have no idea how long it will last, or if there’ll be any permanent damage.”
“No; it wears off after a few hours,” Napoleon assured him, sighing as Illya carefully cut him loose from the ropes. “They used it on me; it’s how I got tied up here.”
“You cannot see, either?”
“It’s worn off; I can see again, but my eyes still itch like crazy. I expect that will wear off in time, too.” He gripped his partner’s shoulder. “Illya, thank you.”
“Da, of course,” Illya said, relieved that he could, at least, guarantee his partner’s freedom. “There is a network of passageways beneath this castle, Napoleon; you should be able to take the central one that leads to the grounds. You can escape that way.”
“…I don’t like the sound of that singular pronoun.”
“Napoleon, until I get my sight back, I will be nothing but a liability to you!”
Illya gave a start as he felt Napoleon’s hand take his own without another word, leading him down the passageway he had come from.
“Alright, you’ve got to tell me which way to go,” Napoleon said. “…And can I borrow your Special? They took mine when they captured me.”
“Of course,” Illya mumbled in gratitude, handing his weapon over. He should have known better than to think that Napoleon would have abandoned him.
He quietly directed Napoleon as they fled down the gray, stone corridor, hand in hand, still a team to be reckoned with.
Prompt: Loose
Color: Gray
Title: In the Dark
Author: Rose of Pollux
Word Count: ~620
THRUSH was getting more creative in their choice of hideouts, although one had to admit that an abandoned Bavarian castle was rather practical; it was close enough for Berlin to keep an eye on both sides of the city and to gauge how things were going, allowing THRUSH to act accordingly when it came to provoking either side.
And THRUSH was now finding their castle stronghold invaded by a Russian searching for an American. But this was no casualty of the Cold War; it was a mission of mercy, for THRUSH had taken this American with the intent to extract whatever information they could from him regarding U.N.C.L.E. And the Russian was the American’s partner.
It was in an underground passageway built of cold, gray stones that the Russian ran into trouble; several THRUSH agents waylaid him, and the Russian fought back with the sleeping darts, but just as he was firing a dart at the last agent, the agent sprayed a canister of something into the Russian’s eyes.
The agent fell as the Russian swore in his native tongue, trying to wipe the substance out of his eyes. He froze as, looking around, he realized he couldn’t see a thing; whatever that substance had been, it had impaired his vision.
Cursing quietly, he held a hand to the wall to guide him down the corridor, hoping he was heading the right way out. He was soon aware of an angry voice snarling to someone to speak up. The Russian snarled an insult right back at him; he heard the man turn and run towards him. The Russian fired a sleeping dart and heard the man fall.
It was as the Russian listened for signs of any other men that a familiar scent reached his nostrils--bay rum.
“Napoleon?” he asked, quietly.
“…Illya?”
Illya followed the sound of his partner’s voice and the scent of the bay rum to feel the distinct shape of a man tied to the wall by his arms.
“I knew it was you,” Illya sighed, as he fumbled for the source of where the ropes tied his partner to the wall. “You always douse yourself with that stuff.”
“You can’t see?” Napoleon asked, observing the Russian’s actions.
“No; they sprayed something in my eyes. I have no idea how long it will last, or if there’ll be any permanent damage.”
“No; it wears off after a few hours,” Napoleon assured him, sighing as Illya carefully cut him loose from the ropes. “They used it on me; it’s how I got tied up here.”
“You cannot see, either?”
“It’s worn off; I can see again, but my eyes still itch like crazy. I expect that will wear off in time, too.” He gripped his partner’s shoulder. “Illya, thank you.”
“Da, of course,” Illya said, relieved that he could, at least, guarantee his partner’s freedom. “There is a network of passageways beneath this castle, Napoleon; you should be able to take the central one that leads to the grounds. You can escape that way.”
“…I don’t like the sound of that singular pronoun.”
“Napoleon, until I get my sight back, I will be nothing but a liability to you!”
Illya gave a start as he felt Napoleon’s hand take his own without another word, leading him down the passageway he had come from.
“Alright, you’ve got to tell me which way to go,” Napoleon said. “…And can I borrow your Special? They took mine when they captured me.”
“Of course,” Illya mumbled in gratitude, handing his weapon over. He should have known better than to think that Napoleon would have abandoned him.
He quietly directed Napoleon as they fled down the gray, stone corridor, hand in hand, still a team to be reckoned with.
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Loved how you had Illya's other senses kicking in, especially with the scent of the bay rum.
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Thanks; I felt as though his other senses would try to compensate for the impaired vision.
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