Jinxed?! - Picfic 02/04

[avrovulcan.livejournal.com]

"Chyort, damn machine."

Illya stared at the flashing message displayed on the computer, he was beginning to believe Napoleon's theory of the cause of their recent problems.

"Still not working tovarisch?" Napoleon smiled as he stood behind his partner, maybe now his stubborn friend would believe what he'd been saying about this last mission. "I tell you that disk is jinxed."

"There is no such thing as a jinx, my friend. There must be a problem with the computer I have not found yet, that is all." Kuryakin sighed as he typed some more commands. The error message still flashed on the screen.

"So how do you explain all the things that happened to us then?" Napoleon shifted the crutch he was using and sat on the edge of the desk.

Finding a long slim ruler he placed it inside the cast on his leg and sighed with relief as he gave the offending itch a good scratch. "If I remember correctly, it was from the very first moment of collecting that floppy disc, that started off all the troubles we've encountered in the last twenty four hours."

"No Napoleon, that was just your two left feet, you are the only person I know who can trip over nothing," the Russian grinned.

"Those flagstones were uneven, I swear. At least I only twisted my ankle then."

Napoleon winced as he remembered going head over heels while running down the street, after they'd made their getaway through the window of the THRUSH infested ground floor office.  

"Hmmmmm, maybe."

"Okay, so what about the car?" Enquired the American.

"All cars run out of fuel at some point," replied the pragmatic Russian.

"Granted, but after only ten minutes?"

"I did not have time to check how full the fuel tank was before 'borrowing' the vehicle, Napoleon."

Luckily, they'd managed to lose the goons who'd been following before they found another form of transport, though neither were too thrilled about disguising themselves as farmers and chugging across the fields on an ancient tractor, but at least it fooled the idiots who'd been sent to get them.

"So how do you explain the truck blowing up?"

Illya stopped typing and turned to face his friend..

"There is no such thing as a jinx. How many times have we crashed, been run off a road, fallen down or over something, had vehicles blow up before us, and numerous other things, happen to us over the years? What we experienced on this last mission is nothing out of the ordinary."

"Maybe not if each problem happened on different missions, but since when have we had everything all happen on one assignment?"

Kuryakin rolled his eyes and turned back to the keyboard, trying again to get the computer to read the file. Solo knew he'd won that argument, as silence was the only reply for several minutes.

"It was most likely poorly looked after," a Russian accented voice broke the silence.

"What, the disk? Is that why it won't work?"

"No the truck, the engine was probably in poor condition, it overheated quite quickly."

Illya thought back to that incident; they'd only been a matter of a few hours away from HQ when he'd noticed the alarming rise in engine temperature and the the sudden bad handling of the Lorry. Breaking to a sudden stop, he'd pushed Napoleon out of the passenger door with such force the Russian followed him through the opening and landed on top of him, momentarily winding the American.

Knowing the urgency, Kuryakin scrambled to his feet, dragging Solo as he stumbled along behind him, just making it to safety before the whole vehicle lit up the sky in a fireball. It was during this act of desperation that Napoleon fractured his leg.

Knowing his friend couldn't go far in that condition, Illya left him in relative safety while he went to find yet another mode of transport.

Twenty minutes later Napoleon heard the regular thump, thump, thump of an approaching helicopter just moments before a small two seater set down a few meters from his hiding place. Keeping his head down, he watched to see who the pilot was as the occupant climbed down and made his way around the aircraft.

Solo breathed a sigh of relief as he recognized the unmistakable gait of his partner making his way over to the ditch Napoleon was hiding in.

"We must stop keep meeting like this, people will start to talk," the American joked.

"I think they already do,"  the Russian grinned, "here, lean on me."

Together they hobbled over to the idling chopper. Once Solo was securely strapped in, Kuryakin settled into the pilots seat and prepared to take off.

The flight back to HQ seemed to go well until they were in the final approach and the engine cut out, remarkably their altitude was high enough that Illya manage to land the aircraft using only the lift gained by the autorotation of the rotors.

"I'm really glad you're an excellent pilot, that landing was quite hair-rasing," Napoleon commented, "but I still can't understand how, with everything that happened to us, you think this mission was normal."

Just then and before Illya could reply, a loud pop and a fizzling sound eminated from the computer, followed by the acrid smell of burning and a plume of smoke rising from the rear of the, now rapidly melting, machine.

"Napoleon?"

"What?"

"I think that floppy disk was jinxed. It has just melted my computer."

'I told you so' was on the tip of Solo's tongue, but instead he just smiled as his friend stared incredulously at the mound of smouldering plastic on the desk in front of him.

Comments

[injj.livejournal.com]

Oh that is some story, enjoyed reading sooo much! Thanks for writing and sharing!:))

[avrovulcan.livejournal.com]

Glad you enjoyed it. Thanks for commenting.