The Congo Affair chapter eight~ "Out of the frying pan"

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

link to chapter 7:http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/2013/03/21/

             

Sweat was pouring down both Napoleon and Illyas faces from the heat of the midday sun as mercilrssly it beat down on them , adding to that was the excruciating pain shooting up from their knees, for having forced to kneel for so long.

They weren't the only ones suffering as the other prisoners lined up around them were in bad shape as well.

Solo watched as his partner began to sway, seeing the Russian was close to passing out.

The last thing Illya and Napoleon as well needed was draw any further attention to themselves. The fact the pale blond Russian was becoming unsteady made would make him stand out even more among the sea of dark faces that surrounded him. The American feared that once he keeled over and hit the ground, someone would walk over with a pistol and arbitrarily execute his partner without thinking twice about it.

It had been a long time since Solo had seen such dispassionate and wanton disregard for human life, and it had nothing to do with this so-called revolution. It was killing for the sake of killing, and murdering innocents to suit their executioners sadistic and self-righteous moods.

"Illya," Napoleon tried whispering to him, but his voice had no effect on the man. It was another sound that startled the Russian to awareness, and that was the blood curdling scream of a woman who was being dragged by her hair from the line prisoners. Guards pulled her into the nearby tent and closed the flaps after them.

There was complete silence, no sound coming from within the tent as there had been when other prisoners were taken there. No screams or pleading, and no gunshots. The walls of the tent began to shake with the beginnings of some sort of movement inside. More men went into it, and that's when grunts and moans became audible.

Napoleon and Illya looked at each other, knowing the girl was being raped. One by one the soldiers exited the tent, at least a dozen of them, adjusting their belts and zipping up their flies as they walked away.

She was dragged outside again, this time completely naked, and was tossed to the ground as the men spat on her, and kicked at her, yelling at her and seemingly egging her on.

The agents guessed the men were hurling nasty names at her with each kick. The woman tried desperately to crawl away in the dirt and finally pulled herself up staggering in defiance. Her tormentors broke out into raucous laughter as she turned and ran towards the forest, but there was a hesitation on her part when she heard a rifle being cocked, as she half expected to be shot in the back.

For some reason the soldiers let her go...

"At least she's alive," Napoleon whispered.

"For what, her life is as good as over. No man will have her and who knows what diseases they have transmitted to her. If she lives, it will be as an outcast and she will have no one to care for her."

Napoleon was about to rebut that when one of the guards stepped in front of him. "You!" He bellowed, pulling Solo up to his feet with a violent tug. Napoleon tried resisting, and was cuffed in the face, splitting his lower lip as it was dry from lack of water.

They shoved him toward the tent just as a jeep pulled up, stopping abruptly beside them.

A white man in a military uniform...a Russian uniform stepped out of the passenger seat, eyeing Solo, and the rest of the prisoners, pausing to stare at Illya for a moment.

That was when Kuryakin sprang to life as he called out to the officer, speaking Russian.

"Tovarishch Leytenant ! Rasskazhite eti duraki osvoboditʹ menya i moyego kompanʹona_Comrade Lieutenant! Tell these idiots to release me and my companion."

That drew the junior officers immediate attention.

"A kto ty takoy, chtoby prikazyvatʹ mne bytʹ vokrug_and who are you to order me around?" He snarled at the blond, grabbing his chin and yanking it up to a painful position.

"I am a member of Soviet Military Intelligence and your superior officer. Capitan Illya Kuryakin," he barked back at him..

The Lieutenant laughed in his face.

"You doubt me little man?" This time Kuryakin sneered with a feral smile, in spite of the fact when he was pulled to his feet by the soldier, the man towered over him.

"Prove it to me...little man," the Lieutenant parroted back the insult.

"You know we do not carry any sort of identification that could give us away."

Illya squared his shoulders, and confidently standing to his full height, he began to spout names of members of the Glavnoye Razvedyvatel'noye Upravleniye, as well as a quick description of the building that housed it at Kodinka airfield. They were details that only one who had been inside the 'Aquarium' could know, and he crossed his fingers, hoping the man had somehow been there to be briefed for this African assignment.

The Lieutenant's face paled, and he stiffened at what Illya had said. Apparent the ploy was working.

"I beg your pardon Capitan Kuryakin, I had no idea GRU would be here, if I had..."

"That would not be information you would be privy to. GRU tells no one of their comings and goings. Now, stop your groveling and get my hands untied, as well as Capitan Badenov!"

"Yes, immediately Comrade Capitan. and my apologies." He saluted, and pulled a blade from its sheath on his belt and slit the ropes bound around Illya and Napoleon's wrists.

Illya stumbled but regained his balance as he rubbed his raw skin, and quickly held a finger in front of his lips signalling for Napoleon to remain silent.

"Kak tebya zovut Leytenant_what is your name Lieutenant?"

"Vladimir Medvdev Comrade Capitan." He snapped to, again giving the agents a sharp salute.

"Get us water," Illya softened his tone, "And we need a change of clothing, perhaps uniforms if you will, since being dressed in civilian clothing got us into this mess in the first place. And I want these prisoners here freed immediately," he gestured towards the people still lined up behind them. "This is no way to conduct a revolution, abusing innocent civilians because they are from the wrong ethnic tribe."

"But Capitan we are not supposed to interfere..."

Illya shouted at the man. "Kak ty smeyeshʹ vopros moye slovo_how dare you question me_ now do as I say or you will be reported to Directorate. I hear gulags are particularly frigid at the moment."

Lieutenant Medvedev's face flushed red with embarrassment and the look of fear filled his eyes.

"I will take care of it immediately, Comrade Capitan."

They were led to a nearby tent and inside there some Russian military gear was stowed. It was apparently the Lieutenant's quarters and there he left them, telling them to make themselves comfortable.

"That was some move," Napoleon sighed."And by the way, Captain Badenov, as in Boris Badenov...a cartoon character, seriously?"

"What, you do not like it Comrade Boris? "Illya smirked, putting on a heavy Russian accent. "At least I gave you a rank of Captain...and yes, it was risky but no more than the possibility of us being executed."

"Why did you want me to be quiet, there's no way you forgot that I speak a fair amount of Russian?"

"Napoleon, your Russian is passable but your accent is slightly off," Illya frowned.

"Oh come on with the insults again?"

"I am not trying to offend you, you have a mixed dialect, enough to give away that you are not a native speaker, that is all."

Napoleon's perceived insult gave way to his partner's logic. "So now that we're out of the frying pan chum, what did you have in mind...tovarisch?"

Comments

Newsletter for Friday, March 22

[livejournal.livejournal.com]

User kanders07 referenced to your post from Newsletter for Friday, March 22 (http://mfu-weekly.livejournal.com/174149.html) saying: [...] Chapter 8 ~ "Out of the frying pan" [...]

Re: Newsletter for Friday, March 22

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thanks!