"A T.H.R.U.S.H. and his fez are seldom parted" Chapter 8

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

( links to previous chapters behind the cut )

           

Illya supported his weight on the rifle as he pulled himself to his feet. He tore his shirt into strips for bindings and a gag for the handler and proceeded to relieve the man of his uniform and dressed himself in it.

As usual, the clothes were a bit big, and there was little he could use to staunch the bleeding on his arms as he made his way through the treeline to the compound.  There, if it all went as he hoped, he could find his missing partner, and get them out of this living hell. His new plan was to just saunter in, as if he belonged.

Illya approached the barbed-wire gate, pulling the brim of his cap down to cover his face. As luck would have it the entry was being guarded by a single sentry inside a guard house: after simply nodding to the man, he was granted entry. He was wearing a Soviet uniform and he supposed no one was to dare question such a soldier. No one looked at him, or said anything. So far so good...

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Song Story - Witchy Woman by The Eagles

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

I know it's late, but it's still Thursday where I live.  The internet was down all day... let me repeat that... All Day.  Unbelievable but I survived.  We can't go without our prompt and here it is, just in time for the creepfest that is sometimes known as Halloween.  I think this work, don't you?
Stories can go up next week, and I hope to see a lot of activity on this one.

  ( lyrics behind the cut... )