"Survival School Roulette" for the Song story challenge ~Russian Roulette by Rhianna

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

                 

“I can’t believe it,” said one of the young men attending U.N.C.L.E. Survival School. “We’ve got Kuryakin as an instructor for a pistol class. I hear he’s a real hard ass.”

“Hard ass? He’s a damn Communist, that’s what he is...and he’s teaching a basic pistol class?  I thought his specialty was explosives?” Another responded as they walked together along a jungle trail to their barracks.

“It is,” Mike Gruber chimed in. “He’s teaching that as well as the gun class.”

“Why do I have to take a pistol class? I have military background and can already shoot,” Larry Koenig protested.

“They want us all on the same page I guess,” Gruber said. “Gonna be interesting to see how the women handle the gun class.”

“Hey, in my opinion...they don’t belong there. Barefoot and pregnant, that’s where they should be, in the kitchen,” Koenig spouted his opinion.

“I’ll be interested in how Kuryakin he handles them. I hear his nickname in headquarters is the Ice Prince...and he sort of avoids women.”

“I heard a rumor he was...well you know, one of those kind, the ones who prefer men...”

“Yeah there’s talk about him and his partner Napoleon Solo.”

“No way,” Gruber blurted out. “Solo’s a real ladies man. No, I don’t think the Russian is into pink, if you know what I mean, even if he is a Pinko.”

They all walked into the barracks laughing at that little pun.

Peter Smith kept quiet during the discussion as he couldn’t understand their attitude towards Kuryakin. None of them even knew the man, and they were pre-judging him.  He wasn’t sure if he should report the conversation, as much of what they said was pretty much against U.N.C.L.E. policy.  Everyone was supposed to be treated fairly, and there was no room for such bigotry as was clearly being displayed in this case. He decided to wait and see what happened after Mr. Kuryakin met them, as perhaps their attitudes would change.

The next morning they finally had the opportunity to meet the Russian.

A slightly built man with shaggy blond hair entered the classroom, depositing a folder and several gun cases on the the desk.  He removed some notes, placing them on the lectern, and opened the cases, leaving  them sit.

He lifted a cloth covering a cafeteria-sized table, revealing a least a half-dozen pistols, some broken down to their component parts.

There were a few whispers in the back of the room, out of the instructors earshot and he didn’t bother straining to hear what was being said. He already suspected there would be derogatory remarks being made about him, just as there had been when he attended Survival School back in the day. In spite of the Commands efforts these sort of things continued to happen.

“I was expecting a big guy, not this little skinny runt,” Koenig muttered.

“Maybe it’s not him.”

“I bet his reputation is pure bull, this guy looks like you could knock him over with a feather…

One of the women giggled slightly, saying he was cute.

“Good morning ladies and gentlemen. I am Illya Kuryakin and I will be instructing you in the basics of effectively using a handgun as part of our program in developing you to become field agents.  I understand you all have some experience with firearms….otherwise you would not have been accepted to attend training here at our U.N.C.L.E. facility. However, you all need to be at the same level of proficiency before you are able to graduate from Survival School.”

He'd gone over the bios for each of the students. They were from all walks of life, some with military training, a security guard, an avid hunter, a secretary, bank teller; quite a varied group. The could all use a gun in some shape or form, but their experience with one had to be brought up to U.N.C.L.E. standards.

Illya walked slowly along the table as he spoke, running his fingers across the pistols lying there.  Periodically he’d stop, picking up one of them and to some of the students it looked as if he were almost caressing it.*

“Sadly, not everyone here will pass training, that is a given,” Illya said. “So it is my task to help you succeed and not wash out from this course.”

“So let us begin with Handguns 101. Kuryakin prepared to introduce them to a variety of revolvers and semi-automatic pistols, explaining the intricacies of each.

“Mr. Kuryakin,” Koenig raised his hand,” I for one know how to use a gun, so why do we have to go through this class and with all these different pistols?”

There was a momentary twinkle in the blond Russian’s eyes. "Ah yes, the one with the military background," Illya thought to himself.

“Though you will be issued a specific handgun used by field agents, it is best for you to be familiar with a variety of pistols, given the fact you may have to use them instead of what has been assigned to you. Most revolvers and semi-automatics have common characteristics, but some do not and have different idiosyncracies. For instance, the Soviet Tokarev and Makarov models…let us start with these."

That elicited a few snickers from some of the members of the class, which Illya chose to ignore.

He went over each of their parts; the take down lever, the safety...reminding them not to rely on it, as a safety could often fail. The rails, grip, firing pins, hammer...the lands and grooves within the barrels, and how they impart spin on the bullet; surprisingly a fair few of the students didn’t know that. Given that fact, he even covered the firing sequence of a bullet; again, some of the students were unaware of how this worked either.

It was just as he had surmised with most of them, they could pick up a gun and use it, but really did not know about how it worked, per se.

He went on to malfunctions such as misfires, hangfires and squibs, going on the assumption they might not all know the technical terms for these issues, and had them break down each type of gun, going over the internal parts as well as the procedures for cleaning and reassembling them.

"Lastly, I would like to introduce to you the firearm you will carry for the rest of your career with U.N.C.L.E. whether you become operatives in Section II,  Section III or Section V.”

Illya held up his gun.

“This is a modified Walther P-38 also known as the U.N.C.L.E. ‘Special’ that has become standard issue. It is based on the German P-38 used during World War II and is a double action, semi-automatic pistol with a shortened barrel and a threaded muzzle that can be fitted with a flash suppressor, or a silencer,” he demonstrated screwing the silencer onto the end of the barrel.

                                           

”It can also be converted with a few attachments to a modified carbine rifle with a shoulder stock, sight mount, extended magazine, silencer and barrel extension.” Illya held up his own Special pointing to each part as he named it.

“The magazines hold live rounds or the specially constructed ‘sleep darts’ that can be used to immobilize your opponents. The darts are the preferred type of ammunition, however, there will be times when bullets are needed...and that is, 8 -9mm rounds. The gun itself is well balanced and the loaded weight just slightly over two pounds.

Illya proceeded to go over the parts of the pistol, sounding as if he were quite enamored of his gun.  He spoke in regards to maintaining a close and personal relationship with the one piece of equipment that would save their lives again and again.

                 

You must love and care for her…excuse me ladies,” he looked at the two female recruits, “In your case, perhaps him.” Illya actually broke a shy smile, his face turning pink for a brief second.

“Now that we have finished the classroom portion of our course, we will be heading out to the range for the practical, but before we go, I would like ask you one more question.  Who can tell me the three rules of gun safety?”

There was dead silence, until one of the women raised her hand.

“Yes Miss Dooley?” Illya cocked his eyebrows as he acknowledged her.

“My dad, who was a great hunting enthusiast, taught us these when we were young...I hope it’s what you’re looking for sir.   First rule is always keep your gun pointed in a safe direction. Second, always keep your finger off the trigger until ready to shoot and last, always keep the gun unloaded until ready to use.”

“Absolutely correct Miss Dooley, well done,” Illya smiled.

“But Mr. Kuryakin they don’t make sense...if you’re an agent out in the field…” Koenig interjected.

“Yes, I understand what you are thinking. When in the field these rules must be modified to suit the situation in which you find yourself.  A safe direction is just using common sense, you would not point your gun at your feet for instance.”

That made a few of them laugh, nervously.

“Now as to your finger on the trigger...still if you keep it there at all times it could result in an accidental discharge. When holding a gun, you should rest your finger on the trigger guard or along the side of the gun. Until you are actually ready to fire, do not touch the trigger. If you are pursuing or being pursued by an enemy agent, obviously you must be ready to fire at any time, and that means, of course, your gun must be loaded. Common sense is a valuable commodity ladies and gentlemen.”

“This is going to be pretty lame,” Koenig leaned over to one of his buddies, whispering that he was unimpressed.

“Excuse me...umm,” Illya looked at his roster,”Mr. Koenig, you have something you wish to share with the class.”  He didn’t hesitate giving the recruit one of his patented icy blue-eyed stares.

“No, no sir Mr. Kuryakin. Sorry to interrupt,” Koenig said sheepishly.

Once on the range, Illya began with a discussion of the rules of the range as well as a safety briefing.  He pointed to a man wearing a neon vest, naming him as the Range Officer, who was tasked with making sure the range rules were being followed.

He called each of the students one by one up to the shooting port, observing them as they handled the variety of guns he’d brought with him.

The first exercise was for them to fire right handed, switching to left handed, (telling them they needed to be ambidextrous in case one hand became injured)  as well as having them demonstrate a two handed grip using the standard isosceles triangle standing position, and

finally a Weaver stance.

Eventually he had them change over to working exclusively with the Walther.

Kuryakin took his time, standing aside as much as possible at this point... watching their groupings as they fired, correcting their positions and aiming. Some of them were not using their dominant eye, and that was another correction he made.

Dooley seemed to be having difficulty, as she was a smaller woman, and was having trouble racking the slide on most of the semi-automatics.

“Miss Dooley, may I?” lllya asked.

“Please Mr. Kuryakin, I’d appreciate it. Most of my experience is with rifles, not handguns. I’m not sure if I have the hand strength to do this.”

“I assure you Miss Dooley, you do, trust me. It is not about strength, but about the correct movement.”  He actually smiled at her, and for some reason, that eased her nervousness.

He reached over, enveloping his arms around her, but his closeness now gave her a have a different type of nervousness.

“Relax, I am not going to bite,“ he whispered softly.

Illya helped her with her grip, enabling her to pull back the slide, locking it into place and cocking the gun.

“Good, much better,” he said, “Now let me see your two hand grip.”

He made some adjustments to that, giving her a firmer grip, as well as adjusting how she was standing. “Lean forward just a little, a slight bend in your knees, feet apart at shoulder width.”

She did as she was told, feeling more confident now.

“Very good...now aim for the target using the sights as I discussed in class.”

She emptied the magazine, hitting the target but they were all over the map.

“Not bad, now let us try to improve your grouping,” Illya artfully encouraged her.

He handed her another full magazine, let her load it, rack the slide on her own, and when she was ready he reached around, holding his hands over hers as she again took aim. Her grip had been too loose and it was affecting her recovery and aiming.

He whispered softly into her ear.

“Take a breath, make it a deep one. Calm yourself as you exhale, and hold it. Squeeze the trigger and count to three before you fire again.”

Dooley listened carefully, and this time her shots improved dramatically as they clustered around the center of the target, with one bullseye.

“Excellent!” Illya grinned, taking a step away from her.

She was so excited that she was afraid Illya could see her heart beating through her chest. For a moment she wondered about him being a Section II agent...and guessed his being here meant he never lost. He was a survivor…

“Now here is another magazine Miss Dooley; show me the same thing again and you will definitely get your pistol certification.”

“Really, no kidding,” she smiled.

“For real. You have a better eye than you think. I suspect you are a natural. Now relax, close your eyes as sometimes it helps. When you open them, pull the trigger.” He backed farther away from her.

Again, she did as he asked, and when finished shooting, she’d gotten half of her shots in the bullseye, and the rest in a nice cluster close to it around four o’clock.

“Well done Miss Dooley,” Illya winked at her. “Well done indeed.”

Illya turned to the rest of the class.

“You all have performed satisfactorily, congratulations. Tomorrow we will be converting our pistols to carbines and working with scopes.  I will have available for your use, several sniper rifles, a Kalashnikov, as well as a specialized T.H.R.U.S.H. rifle fitted with an infrared scope. There may come a time where the enemies firearm of choice may be your only means of defense or offence.”

The Russian paused, looking at the fresh faces who were soon to become U.N.C.L.E. agents and hoped his training would help them to make it out there in the field. The odds of everyone passing in Survival School was like a game of Russian Roulette; one never knew who would make it or not. He was glad everyone in his had class passed; though for a while there he thought he would have to fail Koenig for his attitude.

“Any questions?” He stroked his gun lovingly before putting it in his shoulder holster.

There was no response or mumbles this time for that matter. Illya smiled at that, as did Peter Smith, knowing the Russian had completely silenced the naysayers within the class.

There’d be no need to tell Kuryakin about the comments he’d heard, as his fellow students attitudes had been nicely adjusted by the Russian’s professional and cool demeanor, as well as his seemingly endless knowledge.

What this slightly built man in the black turtleneck and black suit had shown them would help save their lives, and they all knew it...



* ref "Happiness is: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/8635012/1/Happiness-is

Comments

[pactnmmt.livejournal.com]

It is so nice to read a story about fire arms by someone who knows what they are talking about! I would have loved to have Illya by my side giving me shooting lessons!

Even when I watch the shows, DMC is definitely more gun safety savvie than RV. Watching him handle a hand gun is down right scary.

I enjoyed your story. When will people learn to stop underestimating the russian?!?