"No more favors" for the Short Affair challenge from 1/7/19

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Challenge: The Short Affair

-Prompt Word 1 - Promise

-Prompt Word 2 – Knife

-Prompt Colour – Gold

Author: mrua7

Title: "No more favors"

Word Count: 1100...sorry a little over.

The color of Illya Kuryakin’s hair looked more like gold in the strong sunlight, flashing as the Russian dodged and ducked his attacker.

Circling each other in the sand; both men were dressed in dark bathing trunks and each held a sharp knife in their right hand. They were matched in that respect, two right handed men facing off each other, able to predict the other’s moves.

That was until Kuryakin flipped his blade to his left hand and that threw off his opponent.  Just like in fencing, a right handed man facing off against a southpaw made things...difficult.

Most people are right handed so you tend to get most of your practice against right handers; Illya was counting on this.

He dove, slashing his blade against the man’s rib cage, leaving a bloody slice.  The wound threw off the fellow’s concentration, and that’s when Illya went in for the kill...sort of, that is.

Instead of doing the man in the Russian was able to put him in a headlock, his knife held against the man’s throat.

He would give him just one chance.

“If you wish to live then tell me here is Napoleon Solo?” Illya demanded.

“Kill me and you’ll never find out.”

“I seriously doubt that.” There was a coldness to Kuryakin’s voice telling the man he was serious.

Illya pushed the point of his knife into the side of the throat, careful to avoid the jugular vein. The man screamed as blood began to trickle down his neck

“All right, all right. I’ll tell you...just don’t kill me, please promise me? I have a family.”

“You should have thought about that before you joined THRUSH. Now where is Solo?”

“First you promise.”

“Tell me what I want to know and I will.” Kuryakin disarmed the man, pushing him down into the sand, still pointing his knife at him in an accusatory fashion.

“Okay, okay. There’s a hut down the beach, that way,” he pointed.” He’s there, but you better hurry as they’re coming for him. He’s to be taken to Central.”

“Who are ‘they’ and how many of them are there?”

“Four, four more guys. They’re armed well enough. What time is it?”

Illya looked at his Timex. “It is half-three.”

“They’ll be here in another fifteen minutes. Now you’re not going to kill me right? You said…”

“I merely alluded...still,” Kuryakin picked up a rock from the surf and hit the man on the head, knocking him out cold. Illya turned, heading for the shack and when he arrived he pulled the flimsy wooden door open. It was obvious the structure was abandoned as it was decrepit and filled with cobwebs.

Laying there on the floor, trussed up like an animal was his partner. Solo’s head was bloody and his face bruised as were his ribs.  He too was wearing a bathing suit as he and Illya had arrived on the small island via the surf.

The ropes binding Napoleon were quickly sliced and he was helped to his feet. He was a bit dizzy making it necessary for Illya to hold him up as they hurried from the shack to the palms and vegetation that lined the strand.

There was no way they could make the swim to their boat anchored off the point...too much blood would attract sharks and the waters around the island were teeming with enough of them as it was.

Sharks could sense blood in the water miles away and would arrive before the agents even made it halfway to safety.

Once settled under the cover of the tropical growth Illya finally looked to his partner.

“Are you all right?” He whispered.

“I will be once we get out of here. You wouldn’t happen to have any aspirin on you, would you?”

“Sorry, I left them in my other bathing trunks.”

“Cute.”

“Any idea how we can get out of here my friend? A few THRUSH goons are supposedly on the way here to take you off to Central, where ever that is.”

“Why do I have to be the one with the plan?” Napoleon asked.

“Because you ARE always the one with the plan.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Solo chuckled. “So how many are coming to get me?”

“Four.”

“And how many weapons do we have?”

“These two knives,” Illya held them up.

“Well better than nothing.” Napoleon quickly looked around and saw a number of coconuts laying in the sand.

“Gather them up; we’ll use them for ammunition. We’ll ambush the birdies before they get to the hut. I’ll take out two and you get the others with the knives. We just have to make sure we don’t miss.”

“That goes without saying.” Illya squinted at his partner, as this plan did not seem to be one of Napoleon’s best.

The four birds came marching single file along the water’s edge after having landed their small rubber dinghy. As they neared the hut, Solo launched the coconuts one immediately after another, hitting his targets right on their heads and knocking them out.

The remaining men were startled, and never expected the knives launched simultaneously at them. They were downed instantly, both killed by Kuryakin’s deadly aim.

“I have to admit, I was not sure your plan would work,” Illya said as he relieved the men of their guns.

“Me either, but I’m glad it did.”

“Now you tell me,” Illya snickered.

“Would it have mattered if I had?”

“Not really.”

They took off in the dinghy, heading to their boat where April Dancer was waiting for them.

“What happened?” She blurted out after seeing Napoleon’s injuries.

“There was a bit of a bird infestation that caused us some problems. I think Jules Cutter will have to find another location for his off site training,” Napoleon winced as Dancer wiped the blood from his head with a wet cloth.

“I think next time when he asks us to scout a location for him ...we will be busy elsewhere,” Illya popped open a ginger ale to settle his stomach as he started up the engine.

“I think Jules will be satisfied enough taking the remaining Thrushies on the island into custody; that should keep him happy. Home James,” Napoleon waved his partner on to head back to Survival Island.

“Not exactly what you expected darling,” April whispered as she leaned down and kissed Solo on the forehead. “What can I do to make you feel better?”

“Oh I can think of a few things,” he practically cooed,”but they’ll have to wait until we debrief back at Survival Island.”

Illya, listening in, couldn’t help but roll his eyes yet again...

Comments

[jantojones.livejournal.com]

He's so cold and deadly our blond. Yet we love him all the more. Excellent story, Cuz :-)

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thank you! Sometimes writers forget that he and Napoleon are trained killers, though Illya is the bloodthirsty one, evidence by some of his actual lines on the show. His training previous to UNCLE has a lot to do with it, I'm sure.

[laurose8.livejournal.com]

Exciting and canonesque action. I liked the reason the partners were on the island, and I certainly liked the Napoleon/April bit at the end. (A neglected pairing.)

Does “Sorry, I left them in my other bathing trunks.” come in canon? It should.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thank you!!! That line isn't canon, but it's a play on an old gag when someone asks a person if they have something when that person doesn't exactly have pockets. I don't think a similar line was on the show, but I could be wrong.

Glad you enjoyed the story and I appreciate the comment. I think my muse has finally returned! (fingers crossed she sticks around)

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

First the voice and then the coconut. One set dread in the air and then... Bam! Downed by a coconut assault.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

LOL! at least it wasn't death by coconut for those two.

[duckys-lady.livejournal.com]

Great story! Glad your muse has returned. :-)

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

thank you! My muse, unlike me, is tan and rested. "D