"Another job well done" ~ for Wednesday is all about April

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

April Dancer took a deep calming breath. She needed it as she was surrounded by a squad of THRUSH goons who were hell bent on capturing her. She suspected if she were killed in the process it didn’t matter much to them.

They didn’t really want her, just the documents she was carrying in her purse.

“Hello boys?” She called out from behind her rocky cover. “If you don’t back off, I’m going to burn what you want...I have a butane lighter and I’m not afraid to use it.”

April shook her head as she realized how stupid that sounded. Even though she was armed, she was outnumbered and couldn't shoot her way out.

“Okay Dancer, you win this one,” their leader called back.” Just so you know that formula you have won’t do UNCLE any good without the catalyst and only we know what that is.”

“Hmm,” she scrunched up her face.”You’re absolutely right, but then you don’t have a formula but you’ve got a catalyst, that’s quite a dilemma. What would you use, a combination of iron-oxide and chromium oxides?” She dug deep in her memory back to her college chemistry class.

There was silence.

“Ugh, yeah. How did you figure that out?”

“A girl’s intuition.”

The auburn-haired agent looked out from her hiding place, seeing the men had stepped out into the open and gathered in a conveniently clustered group. As usual the birdies had easily let the cat out of the bag, confirming the catalyst. Her job was done, well almost done.

April pulled a pineapple charm from her bracelet and lobbed it into the middle of them.

It released a cloud of red knockout gas, and she smiled as she watched them drop like flies one by one.

Dancer stepped out into the open, strolling past the unconscious men and headed down the hill to her roadster hidden just above an arroyo where she’d left it only a short time ago.

As she hopped into the drivers seat, starting it up, her communicator warbled to her.

“Dancer here.”

“April Luv, where are you? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine Mark. I’ll rendezvous with you in town in fifteen minutes. Have our things packed and ready to go. I’d like to make a fast getaway.”

“From whom may I ask?”

“Oh about a half-dozen birdies who’ll be very mad when they wake up.”

“Gotcha ducks,” Slate out. He smiled, shaking his head. Mark loved it when a job went well, and especially one where April didn’t need rescuing.

“Not so fast Slate,” he heard the gun cock from behind him.”Hands over your head and no funny business.”  It was Montgomery Diámetro, the leader of the local satrap.

He reached into Mark’s jacket, relieving him of his gun and communicator and waved his own weapon, indicating for the UNCLE agent to move.

“That way,” he pointed.

The Brit was led to a dark van parked in a nearby alley, and there he was shoved in the back.

“All right Mr. UNCLE agent,” Diámetro handed Mark his communicator. “I know your partner has my formula. I want you to contact her and tell her if she doesn’t surrender it to me...then I’ll be killing you.”

He brandished a large Bowie knife, waving it under Slate’s nose.

“I think I’ll cut your throat. Have you ever seen someone die like that? If the cut is made from side to side involving the arteries, then it will be a quick death. Now if the front of the throat is cut, not slashed mind you, not touching the carotid, there’d be damage to the vocal chords. I remind you the throat is part of the respiratory system and you need it to breathe. If there is a cut right here,” he touched the blade to Mark’s throat,”It fills into the respiratory tract. You’ll slowly die of suffocation and will drown in your own blood.”

“Sod off you wanker.”

“Tsk tsk Mr. Slate, no need for nasty language.” He jabbed the tip of the blade into his skin, this time drawing blood.

Mark hissed at the pain. “All right gov, I’ll do what you want.” He was calculating the time in his head, estimating April would be arriving in a few minutes.

Diámetro opened the communicator, handing it to his prisoner.

“Channel F- April, darling? It’s me.”

“Yes Mark.”

“I ...umm, have gotten hold of a van for us. It’s parked in the alley across from the hotel. Meet me there as soon as you get into town. You do have the documents with you darling?"

“Good job Mark and yes I have them. I’ll be there in a half-hour. Dancer out.”

“Excellent,” Diámetro smiled as he smashed the butt of his pistol down on Mark’s head, knocking him out, after which he handcuffed him. He exited the van, waiting off to the side for the other agent to arrive with his formula.

As soon as April closed her communicator she knew something was amiss. Mark called her ‘darling,’ that was his safeword, telling her he was in trouble. She assumed he was giving her his actual location and was being held in that van, no doubt. Her signal to him that she understood was the half-hour time limit for her to arrive when in fact she had just driven onto the main street of town.

She parked her car, choosing to walk to the alley a hundred yards away and crept to the corner and peeked around it.  There she spotted Monty Diámetro looking at his watch, leaning against a chain link fence protecting what looked like utility and steam valves.

April drew her Special from her shoulder bag, as well as the pieces needed to convert it to a carbine, and once ready; she carefully aimed, darting the man on the first shot.  She remained where she was until the Thrushman dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

She crept forward, making sure the coast was clear, and finally pulled open the door to the van where she found her unconscious partner.

“Mark dear, wake up.” Giving him a gentle tap on the cheek to wake him; she was happy went she could see the blue of his eyes.

“Hi there ducks,” he smiled, rubbing his sore head once she’d removed the cuffs. “You got my message I take it.”

“Yes...darling,” she patted him on the shoulder. “Are you feeling all right?”

“Nothing hurt but my pride, having to be rescued like…”

“Me?” April chided.

“You said it luv, I didn’t.”

“Now you know how I feel. Sometimes I get tired being the damsel in distress. It’s like the Perils of Pauline and being tied to the railroad tracks waiting for the hero to arrive and save the day. I’m a very capable agent…”

“Yes you are most capable… hey are you saying I’m your hero then?”

“Mark you’ll always be my hero.”

“Thanks ducks, now I think we should get out of here before all those birds start waking up.”

“Agreed,” April nodded, pausing for a moment to savor the fact this had been a job well done after all.

                

Comments

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

When I was looking for a pic to accompany the story I found this great black and white photo, so I just had to adjust the story to fit the pic. Yeah, it was about time to turn the table and not have her being the one rescued. Thanks for commenting!