section7mfu | Rolling Cat Eyes

Napoleon Solo watched as a raging THRUSH chief pummeled his partner, Illya the Ruskie Kuryakin. That was what he was being called, not by Napoleon… by the other guy.

The other guy was a fellow named Bruno Klemper, and he was taking out every vengeful impulse on the hapless Kuryakin. The blond was sagging as he hung precariously by his wrists from a rather spectacular system of chains and pulleys, all of which were engineered to cause the utmost in discomfort as Klemper battered the agent with a rising tide of enthusiasm.

Napoleon hadn't fared much better, having been the first up on this creatively designed torture mechanism. As he grimaced with pain, both his and Illya's, his attention was drawn gradually to a pair of mismatched eyes that peered at him from beneath a metal bench. Blue and green, each eye was vibrant and set within equally contrasting colors on the curiously hued feline.

venus cat

"Kitty…' he whispered, not wanting Klemper to hear him calling to the cat. "Come here kitty, pretty little kitty…"

The cat looked from its odd set of eyes, considering the invitation from the man. He seemed friendly enough, although the cat recognized the violence within the room. She was not inclined to the mood it created, and reckoning that this one was probably a kinder being than the one beating on the light colored fellow, she crept from her hiding place and approached the man with the soft voice.

Napoleon squinted at the pink heart that boasted her name: Venus.

"Ah, just the girl for me sweet Venus. I wish you had a knife with you…" It was a wistful comment, as though the cat could help. Just as Napoleon was dismissing his most ardent desire at the moment, Venus began to gnaw on the rope that bound his wrists. She was efficient, as cats are generally, and within a short bit of time the fraying was sufficient for Napoleon to snap the rope and free himself. Venus knew she had done the right thing, and her reward was in the hand that petted and caressed her for her efforts.

"You are a very fine kitty Miss Venus. Now…" Out of the sightline of Klemper, Napoleon crept like the cat had just minutes before until he was able to strike the THRUSH with one resounding blow to the head. The immediate relief to Kuryakin was a groan intended to convey gratitude, although it sounded more like the depths of despair to Venus. Poor fellow, she thought. As for Klemper, he had never been kind to her, teasing her for her unusual appearance and never caressing her as the new man had done. She turned her back on the unconscious man and peed, effectively marking him with her disdain.

Napoleon caught that and laughed out loud. It was almost worth the torture to witness the simplicity of the cat's retribution.

He pulled on the chains until at last Illya dropped free, landing in the arms of his partner just before the floor would have claimed him.

"Hey, are you going to live?" With all he could muster, Illya rolled his eyes at the absurd question.

Napoleon found the weapons that had been confiscated, and their communicators. He called in for help before venturing out into the hallway beyond. Two guards were shocked at the appearance of the man they had so recently seen being tortured by their boss. Neither of them were particularly brave, nor were they truly committed to the cause. With great ease and little effort they were convinced that surrender was the wisest path for them.

When at last the drama was completely over, the agents were once again in Medical. Napoleon had insisted on bringing the cat with them, much to Illya's surprise when he was coherent enough to hear the whole account of her assistance.

"So, you are telling me that you communicated with, um…" He hesitated to let Napoleon say her name once again.

"Venus. Her name is Venus. I'm sure you can understand the significance."

"Oh, indeed,' he snickered slightly at his friend's serious demeanor.

"So, you convinced her to help free you, whereupon she chewed through the ropes until you could cast them off." Napoleon was slowly nodding his head. Illya remained impassive, with great effort.

"Yes, and she did. And here we are. So, you are not the only feline magnet my Russian friend. Venus chose me." Now Illya was nodding, his smile suppressing a guffaw he dared not allow to come out. Perhaps Napoleon was correct, and this cat was his match.

Only time, cat time, would tell.