section7mfu | Element of Surprise - Short Affair

Prompts - Boat/Yellow
Word Count - 406

I'm posting this here as it is another of my 'see if I can write anything at all' pieces. It's rough and ready, and could probably be vastly expanded one day, but for now I'm just happy to have put something together.

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The rowing boat drifted along the lazy, meandering river without any form of control. Within the vessel, a blond man in a white t-shirt and trousers lay flat out; the hot yellow sun beating down onto his pale face and arms. To the two rifle carrying men on the river bank, the boatman appeared to be dead. Following a brief conversation about what their boss would think, they decided to pull him in. If nothing else, they would end up with a free boat. Neither of them thought it was worth the bother of informing anyone else. If the guy was indeed dead, they would throw him in the water. If he wasn’t dead, he would still end up in the river.

As the boat floated towards a nearby jetty, the taller of the two men ran to it, and grabbed a boat hook. Catching hold of the boat, he pulled it towards him, and tied it up. He then hauled the unconscious man onto the jetty, with the help of his colleague.

“He’s alive,” he stated, with the tone of one you didn’t really care.

“Not for long,” replied the other, with a shrug.

Before they got the chance to do anything, Illya Kuryakin’s eyes snapped open. He reached up to the taller man and pushed him into his comrade. In one smooth move, Illya jumped to his feet, pulled a gun from the holster hidden at his back, and darted the two men. He quickly retrieved their rifles and deposited them into the river.

With barely a pause, Illya made his way to the house the two men were meant to be guarding. Having the element of surprise on his side, he soon took out the remainder of the guards, before going into the house. Illya was able to move around the small mansion without any obstacle as the security inside was non-existent. The man Illya was after was known to be arrogant, so probably assumed the guards he had outside were enough. Illya found him sitting behind a large, ornate desk.

“Greetings from U.N.C.L.E.,” he said flatly, enjoying the look of shock and surprise on the man’s face.

His quarry naturally went for his own weapon, but was stopped in his tracks by a sleep dart to the chest.

Illya retrieved his communicator from his sock and called Napoleon.

“Your plan worked,” he told his partner. “You can bring the clean-up team in now.”

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