Christmas Round Robin... The Trouble in Times Square Affair

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

This is the opening chapter for the annual Christmas Round Robin.
We couldn't let 2020 deny us our traditional year end celebration.
You can follow the story here on Section Vii, or on AO3
Please join us in the journey...



Twas the Night Before Trouble

Illya Kuryakin was in a tight spot.  He had his partner on one side, a gun to his head and a madman threatening to kill him. On the other side was a young woman whose life was ebbing away as she bled from a stab wound inflicted by the same lunatic now threatening Napoleon.

“Major Durham, please…’ Illya hated the idea of pleading with this man, but he had to save them, even at the cost of his pride.  Napoleon moved his head ever so slightly, he knew what was going through Illya's mind and the risk it would be for everyone involved.

“You don’t need to kill anyone.  Miss Claiborne is urgently in need of care, surely you can allow us to get her to hospital.” It was futile, deep down Illya knew it, and Napoleon knew it as well.  All the American needed was one small opening, just enough to divert the man's attention
Catherine Claiborne groaned, the little bit of life still in her fighting for survival.  Her status as a socialite had been too much of a temptation for Durham.  A low level THRUSH himself, he thought an infusion of cash would change his future within the Hierarchy.  Now he was walled in by UNCLE agents, and an angry Russian was ready to pull the trigger if anything went wrong.  Durham had to act like he had control, and holding a gun on Solo was his only play if he wanted to get out of here alive.

Each of the three men in the room were calculating the odds of survival if he should fail to do what was necessary.  Added to their own survival was the hope that Catherine Claiborne might also live past this encounter.  Napoleon's options were limited, but Illya might be able to do something.

In a split second of motion, Illya dove down, aiming at Durham. The major hesitated just long enough for Napoleon to duck as two shots were fired simultaneously.  Free of Durham’s grip, Napoleon watched as the major fell to the floor. Illya had put a bullet between his eyes, a fatal shot.

“Illya, you…’ Lying on the floor next to Catherine, Illya’s white shirt was showing a bloom of red.

“Oh no… Illya, buddy… oh god.” Napoleon looked again at Catherine, felt for a pulse.  Napoleon opened his communicator and called for help.  They were in Queens, near the newly constructed Shea Stadium.  Waverly assured him that there would be no delays getting help to the site.

"Hold on Illya, the cavalry's coming."
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