"Slips, Trips and Falls"~ for WHAT'S MY LINE?

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Challenge: What’s my line?

Title: “Slips, Trips and Falls”

The prompt: “Tell me again…”
Rating: Gen

Author: mrua7

Word count: Approximately 1000

The two U.N.C.L.E. agents were on the run. They’d spent the entire afternoon dodging,ducking and dashing their way along cobblestoned streets and darkened alley ways as members of a T.H.R.U.S.H. goon squad relentlessly pursued them.

“These guys just don’t give up do they?”  A breathless Napoleon Solo turned to say to his partner, but he wasn’t there…correction, Illya wasn’t standing there.

Kuryakin had fallen somewhere behind his partner, having fallen and injured himself.

“I am down here,” he said. “A little assistance would be good please as I seemed to have twisted my ankle.

With the help of the American he was pulled up and along.

They headed down an access road, with the two of them scrambling to hide in a dumpster, and as the Thrushmen passed, the two men prepared to make a quick exit and hopefully finally escape. They had no time to call for help as they were constantly out in the open, per se. They needed a safe spot in which they could sequester themselves until help hopefully arrived.

Napoleon hopped down to the ground from their smelly hiding place, and as Illya carefully lowered himself to the ground he lost his grip; falling a second time with his arms flailing. He latched onto Solo's jacket as he went crashing into a stack of wooden crates...pulling his partner with him. By the time they both righted themselves, their heads were blooded from several the boxes that had fallen on them.

Again Solo pulled his partner to his feet, helping him to run as the noise from the crashing of the crates had alerted the Thrushies to their location. "Nice move chum."

"Sorry. I lost my grip and...."

As the two agents rounded a corner, they realized they'd made a bad turn and found themselves in an alleyway that unfortunately led to a dead end. Doubling back, as they scrambled to get away...Illya’s foot became tangled with Napoleon’s and the Russian fell for a third time.

He felt himself grabbed him by the arm, being pulled up to his feet and Solo practically dragged him as they exited the alley; quickly sidestepping into the alcove of a doorway to an abandoned shop.

Napoleon tried the handle and as luck would have it...perhaps Solo luck; it was open.

The agents made it inside, closing and locking the door behind them and ducking down just in the nick of time as their pursuers reappeared on the street; stopping right in front of the U.N.C.L.E. agent's hiding place to scratch their heads and get their bearings.

“Where the hell did they go?” One barked in frustration.

“How am I supposed to know?” Another of the minions answered; coughing as he tried to catch his breath.

“Well, we need to split up then. Rocco, you and Gerry head up the street, me and Louie will double back to see if we missed ‘em. Make sure yous check the alleys.” It never dawned upon them to check to see if their prey had gone into one of the buildings. Typical T.H.R.U.S.H....never seeing things beyond their noses.

“Right boss.”

As they left the scene, the U.N.C.L.E. agents finally let go their breath, exhaling with relief.

“I think we’re safe for now chum,” Napoleon spoke softly as he put his Special back in it’s holster. “Now let’s take a look at that ankle...come on, alley-oop.”

Solo again helped his partner to his feet, only to lose his grip, letting the Russian fall with a loud thump.

“Ow! Thank you for that. Have I not fallen enough today?” Illya complained under his breath.

“Sorry I didn’t mean for it to happen, and what’s going on with you? I haven’t seen you fall this much since...well I don’t know when.”

“I am fine, now leave me be. I can get up by myself if you please.”

Illya hiked himself from his hands and knees and as he put his weight on his ankle, he lost his balance yet again, and dropped to the floor like a proverbial rock.

He looked up at his partner, staring him straight in the eyes and huffing as he spoke,”Tell me again…why we do this for a living?”

Napoleon chuckled as he grabbed hold of Illya, wrapping his hand around the Russian’s slim waist as he helped him to a back room where there was a beat up old sofa.

There he deposited the grumbling Russian and sat on the arm of the sofa while pulling his communicator.

“Open Channel D- Solo.”

“You’re late. Your check-in was due over two hours ago,” Alexander Waverly practically barked.

“Sorry sir, we were ummm, tripped up a bit by pursuing T.H.R.U.S.H. agents but I think we’ve given them the, ugh...slip. Mr. Kuryakin took a nasty spill or two and is unable to stand, much less walk.  We’ll need some transportation sir.

“Very well. The documents, you have them I presume?”

“Yes sir we were able to keep them from falling into enemy hands,” Napoleon grinned, watching as his partner rolled his eyes.

“Very well Mr. Solo, we have your coordinates, stay put and stay out of trouble please.”  The signal ended abruptly, as always with the Old Man.

“You know you and your puns can really be over the top sometimes,” Illya groaned.

“Yeah but I bet they don’t bring you... down.”

“Oh please?” Illya snatched his partner’s communicator from him; debating what he was going to do with it…

“You wouldn’t,” Napoleon gasped.