"Smoking can be hazardous to your health,"~ for the PicFic Tuesday Challenge 9/2

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Napoleon Solo, his face darkened with grease paint, hunkered down beneath the cover of the jungle foliage that surrounded a rather large and ominous munitions cache. Beside him was a fellow named Oliver Norton...the man the senior U.N.C.L.E. agent and his Russian partner were sent to abduct.

Norton was there to modify the munitions, making them more efficient. The agents arrived, under the cover of darkness, after being dropped off along the waters edge, maneuvering their black rubber raft and hiding it among the palm trees.

Luckily their target barely had the chance to begin his work before Solo and Kuryakin got hold of him, whisking him off into the jungle without so much as raising an alarm.

“Mr. Solo,”Norton said in his baritone whiskey voice,”you don’t understand.  I wasn’t planning to modify those weapons to benefit General Prospero; I was planning to sabotage them.”

“Doctor, do you really think we believe that?” Illya snapped back at him. “You went willingly with the General.”

“I’m afraid Illya is right, pretty damning if you ask me,” Solo added.

“And why didn’t I cry out for help to alert the guards?”

Napoleon and Illya both looked at each other, leaving that question unanswered.

“You must let me go back and allow me to bring my plans to fruition. When they go to used the armaments it will all misfire and explode on the General’s troops.”

“Sorry Dr. Norton, we can’t risk that you're not telling the truth, however good your professed intentions may be. Mr. Kuryakin and I do have a plan in mind that will appeal to you if you're not lying to us..though I believe you are."

“Excuse me Doctor, “Illya interrupted, “ We will have to bind and gag you as we must leave you for a few minutes.”

“It was worth a try gentlemen. I guess I'm not that good a liar,” Norton admitted. He offered his wrists that were quickly tied not in front but behind his back. A cloth was wrapped around his mouth and he was made to sit down beside a palm tree and bound to that.

Napoleon and Illya gathered up their black canvas backpacks and slipped into the darkness; before splitting up Solo whispered to his partner.

“Tovarisch, be careful.”

Kuryaki nodded, covering his blond hair with a black knit cap to hide it in the moonlight.

“I’m referring to the timers chum.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“If you recall the time you were supposed to set the explosives to detonate in thirteen minutes and they went off in three. You nearly blew us to smithereens.”

“That was three years ago.”

“Soooooo...” Napoleon crossed his arms in front of him; if they'd been standing on a hard surface, the tapping of his foot would no doubt have been evident.

“Fine.” Illya groused.

Solo headed left towards what was pegged as the missile shelter tent,  while Kuryakin veered right to the fuel tanks.  At both locations the agents set their charges of C-4, and timers synchronized to go off in fifteen minutes. Illya doubled checked his just to make sure before moving on towards the oxidizer tank trailers, and the row of trucks parked near them.

He heard voices and rolled down to the sand beneath one of the trucks as a pair of guards passed by.  The Russian began impatiently grinding his teeth as the two morons lit up their cigarettes, and stood there puffing away.

“Don’t these bolvans know they are near explosives?” He didn’t mind if they blew themselves up, but he most certainly didn’t want to go up with them.

Illya looked at his watch, seeing the minutes ticking away. Only five minutes left...Napoleon was no doubt done with the charges at the missile erector.

“Chyort,” He cursed under his breath as he crawled from his hiding space.

Growling at them in Spanish, he caught them off guard.

”Idiotas! Qué estás haciendo? ¿Quieres volar con nosotros hasta? (idiots! What are you doing? Do you want to blow us up?) Do you not know smoking is not good for you! He blurted out in English.

He ripped the cigarettes from their hands and pounded them into the sand with his shoe.

“Vuelve al trabajo! Ahora! (Get back to work! Now!) Illya, dressed in black with greasepaint smeared on his face presented an incongruous image that didn't seem to register to the guards.  He turned, walking away from them and when a few feet away, he took off at a dead run knowing time was quickly ticking down.

“¡Alto!” They called after him, firing off a few shots once it dawned on them he didn't belong.

“3-2-1-” Illya breathlessly counted as he ran.

"BOOM!" Followed by another explosion and another going off  behind him. "BOOM! BOOM!" To his left the fuel tanks went up in a magnificently powerful plume of fire that lit up the night sky.

The concussion knocked the Russian to the ground, though at this point total chaos had erupted with the missile tent and erector going up in an even more spectacular explosion, and he was caught in the middle of it.

All Illya could do was push himself into the sand, covering his ears to protect them. He finally crawled along, unnoticed, until he reached the jungle’s edge and there he rose to his feet, a little shaken but none the worse for wear.

He hustled through the brush to find his partner nervously waiting there for him.

“What happened?” Solo asked, as he cut Norton free of his bonds.

“Suffice to say I have come to the conclusion that smoking is indeed hazardous to my health my friend.”

“Huh?” Napoleon looked confused.

“Long story, and a discussion for another time and place.”

“Agreed. Now let’s blow this place," Napoleon said.

"Please, must you persist in these pernicious puns?"

"What can I say?" The American shrugged."Like me, like my puns."

Kuryakin said nothing and simply shook his head in dismay.

The U.N.C.L.E. agents started off towards the water where their raft awaited them, and offshore, an American submarine to transport them to safety.

“What about me?” Norton asked.

“You can come with us Dr. Norton, if you wish,” Napoleon announced with aplomb. “Or you can stay here and take the blame as a saboteur.”

“Saboteur? How the devil would I be blamed for this?”

Illya pulled a small tape recorder from his pocket, pressing the playback button.

“You don’t understand.  I wasn’t planning to modify those weapons to benefit General Prospero; I was planning to sabotage them...”

Kuryakin tossed the recorder out into the open where it would be surely found once things had calmed down.

“Ahhhh, point well taken,” Norton stuttered. “Wither thou goest…gentlemen?” He looked up, seeing Solo and Kuryakin had disappeared.  “Hello?” He was filled with panic.

A pale hand appeared from among the foliage, snapping fingers and silently gesturing for the doctor to follow...

Comments

[lindafishes8.livejournal.com]

Action packed and punny! I mean funny! Oops-was that a pun? Nice story M.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thank you. Har dee har harrrr, you and Napoleon are a couple of 'punsters' aren't you. thanks for the chuckle.