Aug. 12th, 2014

[identity profile] mrua7.livejournal.com

A group of people proudly stood beside the man who, for many years, had run their training program.  Now they were together on a small stage set up in the gymnasium at that secret facility known as Survival Island. One of the men present was the CCO of U.N.C.L.E. Northwest, though it was rare for him to leave headquarters in New York, but this was a special occasion.


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[identity profile] jantojones.livejournal.com
“Erm . . . Illya. Do you think you could slow down just a little? I’d prefer to get there alive if it’s all the same to you.”

“I know how to drive in wet conditions Napoleon,” Illya snapped back, tersely.

He was not in a good mood. Their mission had been a success, but not until after Illya had rescued his partner from the clutches of another THRUSH beauty. Napoleon had tried to protest his innocence, claiming he hadn’t been swayed by her looks at all, but Illya was in no mood to listen.

“Just humour me please, and slow down,” Napoleon pleaded. “With all the rain there has been, the road is more like a river.”

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