section7mfu | "Not my Waterloo" Short Affair due June 17th

Challenge: The Short Affair

-Prompt Word 2 – Hostage

-Prompt Colour – Black

Author: mrua7

Title: "Not my Waterloo"

Word count: Approx 873

He could barely see his partner kneeling beside him as Illya was dressed entirely in black, with a knit cap covering his blond hair and grease paint smeared all over his face. Kuryakin was even wearing black gloves.

Napoleon had opted for a more stylish camouflage shirt and trousers, and like Illya, he too wore grease paint on his face and neck, gloves too. Solo had a black beret on his head, though he really didn’t need it, but he felt it completed his look.

Cowering behind the two agents was the hostage they were attempting to free, one Professor Semyon Semyonov.

It was a complicated situation... well, when was it not? The Professor had defected from the Soviet Union and was living and working on the outskirts of Paris.

KGB found out and had taken him in an attempt to repatriate the scientist as the man had a good working knowledge of the Soviet nuclear program and they wanted him back.

Napoleon was concerned, given Illya was now forced to fire upon his fellow countrymen in order to make their escape while rescuing Semyonov.

When questioned about it however, Kuryakin was quite blunt in his reply.

“If I had any problem with the possibility of this sort of situation happening, then I would not have accepted the assignment. KGB has no love for me, nor do I have any for them. Now if it were GRU involved…” his lips curled into that wry smile of his.

“You’re serious, if it were your former military intelligence compatriots you would have said no?” Napoleon asked.

“Do I look like I am serious.”

“Always.”

“Napoleon I am not. I have taken an oath to the U.N.C.L.E. and I will abide by it.”

“Didn’t you take an oath to the GRU?”

“Yes, an officer was required to swear a solemn, if somewhat melodramatic, oath.”

“So taking the oath to the Command superseded your GRU oath?”

“No, when I was given away to UNCLE, sent like sacrificial lamb, I no longer had a sense of loyalty to GRU, that is when my oath to them wavered. Still, I love my country and would die to protect it and its people but now is not the time for that discussion.”

A bullet ricocheted above their heads. By the muzzle flashes Napoleon estimated there were initially five of them, but his and Illya’s sleep darts found their marks on several of them. He supposed that deep down Illya felt better about using the darts instead of live ammo on his fellow countrymen. He was sure they had no idea it was Kuryakin who was firing at them and supposed they might be all the more determined to kill him as the KGB looked upon Illya as a traitor.

The gun battle raged on in the darkness.

“This is not going to be my Waterloo,” Napoleon swore. He finally switch his magazine to live rounds.

Illya seeing him do it had no qualms about doing the same. It reminded Solo exactly how cold blooded his partner could be. He asked himself if he were in the same situation, could he fire upon Americans?

Napoleon nodded silently to himself. He would stay true to his oath to UNCLE just as his partner would, no matter what.

One by one the enemy gunfire lessened until there were no more shots fired.

Taking a chance, Illya called out in Russian, but no one answered him and turning to the professor, he saw that Semyonov was dead.

Apparently one of the ricocheted bullets had found its mark.

“This was all for naught,” Illya hissed. “He is dead, they are dead and for what?”

Kuryakin stood and that’s when a shot rang out, hitting him in the shoulder.

Napoleon returned fire and took out the remaining KGB agent.

“Illya!” He scrambled to his partner and undoing his necktie Napoleon used it as a tourniquet. “They almost got you.”

“Almost is the operative word my friend. No I will not be a trophy on a KGB agent’s kill list, at least not today. Now we must report to Mister Waverly that we failed in our mission as well.”

“I think we’ll get your wound taken care of first,” Napoleon helped Illya to his feet with a grunt.

There was no pithy comeback from his partner, and somehow Solo suspected the death of his fellow countrymen might be weighing on his partner’s mind just a bit.

“Let’s get going,” Napoleon said, getting Illya’s attention as he seemed lost in thought.

They had to get away before the local authorities came snooping around.

No cleanup crew on this one. It would be between the French and Soviet governments to wriggle their way around this situation, especially since some of the KGB agents were still alive but would be unconscious for a few hours.

Napoleon smiled; a quick anonymous phone call to the Directorate of Territorial Security – Direction de la surveillance du territoire...just to give them a heads up. If the French got here in time, they might have a chance at arresting the KGB agents and charge them with the murder of the Professor.