Everything Is Subject To Change - What's My Line?

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

Prompt: In light of the current circumstances.
~~~~~:

In light of the current circumstances...

It was a hard pill to swallow, these circumstances.  With no where else to go, Napoleon and Illya seemed to be at the end of what had been an impressive partnership.

“Would it be appropriate to say a word or two in regards to what has been a very successful run?”  Napoleon felt slightly numb, not what he had expected of an inevitability.  Looking around him now at the opulent room that had become their prison, the top agent of the Northwest Region was once again struck by how natural the Russian looked in such surroundings.  Unlike the spartan circumstances of his youth, Kuryakin was nearly regal as he sat in the throne like chair facing Solo.

Illya considered the question and nodded, slowly and appropriately reminiscent of a monarch’s thoughtful reply.

“I believe so, the circumstances notwithstanding, we did not fail our mission.”  No, they hadn’t failed the mission; merely lost the game.

The mission had, in fact, been a success.  The two UNCLE agents accomplished the feat of daring necessary to tumble a tyrant off his throne; the throne upon which Illya now sat.  Without violence or revolution, a despot of this charming little country had been removed and a new leader put in his place.  The only trouble was that the new man had been identified as a member of THRUSH.  How that detail managed to bury itself so well was still a matter of some curiosity.

Seated now in the great hall of an impressive castle, Solo and Kuryakin were faced with a nearly impossible task of escaping with their lives or forfeiting them.  There were four guards in the room, each of them heavily armed; it seemed the reputations of the two prisoners was well known.  Reginald Vondenburg, the THRUSH who had pulled of this impressive move, would soon arrive and announce the final sentencing of the two agents.  It was a particularly galling thing to have taken down a truly evil man, and then unwittingly put a THRUSH in his place.  There had been little time to regroup and eliminate him as well, and a call to Waverly had been intercepted before Napoleon could fully explain the situation.

The circumstances.  Lousy circumstances.  Lousy and dangerous.

Illya had been fiddling with something for as long as he had sat in the throne.  Neither man was restrained, a smug way of telling them they stand a chance of escaping.  Whatever Illya had found to bother in the overdressed chair was now the center of Napoleon’s attention.

“Um... what are you doing, Illya?  Picked up a nervous habit sitting in the symbol of so much decadence?”  The blond smiled and Napoleon recognized the look; he had something in mind.

“I believe there is a secret compartment of some sort in the arm of this chair... er, throne.  I imagine it was designed for the probable circumstances of some attempt on the life of the king, or ruler... Me, perhaps.”

A snick came from the arm of the chair, quickly covered up by Napoleon’s faux sneeze, causing the guards to look in his direction then quickly dismiss him.  Illya slowly raised the upholstered panel on top of the arm and was pleasantly surprised by the assortment of weapons within.

“I do not believe our current tyrant is aware of the contents of this throne.  It is, in all respects, a true seat of power.”  Now Napoleon was smiling, but he regained his sense of despair, hoping none of the guards were watching them closely.

“Anything we can use to put down these guys?”  Napoleon wasn’t trained in ancient weapons of war, he’d much prefer a gun or even a knife.

“Let me just say that, had the former head of this country been seated here rather than sleeping in his bed, we might have had more difficulty removing him.  There are two Makarov pistols, three rather impressive knives and ... ‘ Illya deftly moved one of the knives as he avoided making any noise or alerting the guards in any way...

“A grenade.  Napoleon my friend, I believe the circumstances have just changed in our favor.”

Not particularly concerned now with being subtle, Illya removed a pistol and handed it to his partner who checked to make certain it was loaded and ready to fire.  At the sound of his inspection, one of the guards looked in his direction.  It was a mistake, and with that first shot the battle was on.  Illya pocketed the grenade and knives, picked up his Makarov and fired a second shot at another guard who was approaching.  The second pair of guards seemed unsure of their next move, and as Napoleon turned towards them they took flight out of the nearest door.  That was the cue for the UNCLE agents to go in the opposite direction towards the palace gardens.

As they ran through the immaculate grounds, jumping over hedges and tromping down recent plantings, each man was aware of a growing contingent behind them.  At just the right moment Illya stopped and turned, reaching into his jacket pocket to retrieve the grenade.  He pulled the pin, tossed it and turned.  The explosion rang out behind them as they headed for a line of parked cars and the former king’s new helicopter.

Napoleon found cover behind a black limousine and continued to fire into the remaining guards as they approached, more caution in their movements than before.  Illya climbed into the aircraft and was pleased to find the keys in place, not uncommon and exactly what he needed at the moment.

The rotors began to turn and within a few minutes, with Napoleon’s expert marksmanship taking out two more guards, the time for their departure was eminent.  Napoleon took note of the sound and ran to the helicopter, getting in just ahead of a pinging sound on the bulletproof glass.

Up and away is exactly how it went from there, and the team of Solo and Kuryakin were winging their way back to Vienna and the UNCLE offices there.  It wasn’t a proper headquarters, but some staff maintained a viable outpost in the city known for intrigue as well as beautiful music.

Two days later found the intrepid team back in New York, sitting at the big desk helmed by Alexander Waverly.  It was a matter of some importance that their people had failed to identify the connection between Vondenburg and THRUSH.  With their report in front of him now, Waverly took a few seconds to look at Napoleon and Illya, considering the unnecessary danger they had been in because of improper intelligence.

“Gentlemen, it is most unfortunate that you were set upon by the circumstances in Erlandia.  Either THRUSH has become even more devilishly effective than before or our people made egregious mistakes.  I apologize for having put you in additional jeopardy; it is not the intent of UNCLE to send our agents into unnecessary dangers beyond what it inherent in our mission.”

Napoleon and Illya both nodded their heads, acknowledging what they knew was a grudging apology; Waverly didn’t often say ‘I’m sorry’ to men who were simply doing their jobs.

“Sir, what will the next course of action be?  Will Vondenburg be allowed to remain in power?”  Napoleon felt cheated for having left the man still alive, although retreat had been the better option for them.

“There are things in motion, Mr. Solo.  I assure you, your efforts were not in vain.  Now, you have tickets waiting for you and files to study before you depart.  I assume you are both packed and ready to go?”  Heads nodding, Solo and Kuryakin both answer in the affirmative before leaving the office of their superior.

Circumstances in this business shifted daily, sometimes by the hour.  Everything was subject to change, and the men of UNCLE would live another day because of that.

Comments

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

This was fabulous. You painted a vivid picture for the reader and I hope there'll be a sequel to this. It has such great possibilites! Thanks for a good read.

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

Thank you. Hmmm... more? I guess it might have more although i'm already behind on one WIP, better not make any promises.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

No, no promises just one to put on a back burner perhaps as it has potential. Hey I have 2 WIPs to still do. At least I posted my Friday the 13th story.

Funny though, I actually managed to do my Song Story for next week. I was 'inspired..." :D

[lindafishes8.livejournal.com]

I found it interesting that Illya was seated on a throne in your story. What motivated him to sit there I wonder? And Napoleon thought- "how natural the Russian looked in such surroundings." Very creative.

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

thank you, and sorry to be so late responding. The throne... well, I think we've all played with the idea that Illya might be descended from the royal family in some way. I'm not sure why we like that idea or where it came from, but it's intriguing to play with it.
I think Napoleon would observe his partner's ease with the surroundings and make a mental note about it.