Retaliation

[avrovulcan.livejournal.com]

They were so close, but so far, the safety of the UNCLE outpost was only another 3 miles away - they had travelled 150 already, the last third by helicopter, which was now lying crumpled and useless on the snowy hillside.

Out of the two occupants, the blond was in a slightly better state than the aircraft, suffering a broken leg, fractured rib and concussion, the other had escaped with only a few minor cuts and bruises.

The only good outcome was the THRUSH chasing them had also suffered a similar fate.

Their helicopter had crashed on the other side of the hill and the goons would have to climb up through the deep snow first, before they could reach the UNCLE agents halfway down the other side; and if they were also injured - hopefully- Solo thought, it would be a while before they caught up to his and his partners position.

"Now would be a good time for one of your ingenious plans," Kuryakin muttered through gritted teeth.

As Illya tried to shift into a more comfortable position, Napoleon scanned the terrain ahead of him.

"Snow's too deep to help you down the hill, I think you'll make those injuries worse if we try."

"Do you think those THRUSH will not cause more damage when they reach me here?"

"I've seen you in action, even when injured - remember?" Solo replied with a grin.

"I'll have a look and see if I can get an idea of how they're faring, with luck they'll be worse off than us."

The American scrambled up the hill and cautiously peeked over. The other helicopter had crashed heavily, the remains a lot more mangled than their own aircraft.

Two of the goons were already dead, judging by the unnatural position of their bodies, well if they weren't, they soon would be. The other pair were dazed, they had already discovered the deceased/soon to be deceased (evidenced by the trail marks left in the snow around them) and were wondering around aimlessly.

Solo carefully pulled his gun from it's holster and aimed at the enemy, a couple of sleep darts would help give them some needed time, however when the trigger was pulled, the weapon jammed; cursing to himself, he slid down the hill to rejoin his partner.

"We can strike two THRUSH off, the other two, I think, are hired muscles. I tried to knock them out with sleep darts, but my gun jammed. However with the brains out of the picture, I don't think they have much of a clue what to do."

"That should buy some extra time then. Once they get over the shock, it will only be a matter of time before they remember they were chasing us and come looking," Kuryakin replied.

"If I can get to the UNCLE outpost I can get some help out to you, but how do I get there quick enough? This snow will really slow me down."

"Shame we did not pack some skis, but I did not plan on crashing in the Alps."

"Hmm skis, good idea, maybe I can find something I can use in the wreckage." Napoleon clapped Illya on the shoulder, almost knocking him sideways, "see I knew I brought you along for a reason."

Kuryakins only reply was a roll of his eyes.

Solo looked through the crashed aircraft and came out with two poles, proudly showing his prize.

"All you need is something for your feet now," the Russian commented.

"Easier said than done, my friend."

Both agents looked at the helicopter searching for something they could utilise. After a couple of minutes Illya grinned, spotting something that would fit the bill.

"There should still be some explosive putty in my backpack, we will need it."

"Okay, I can get that, I saw it when I was in there before."

Napoleon scrambled into the fuselage again and emerged carrying the bag, eyebrows raised in question.

"The rotors Napoleon, break the putty into two and roll into a sausage," at the mention of food Illya's stomach gave a loud grumble, causing both to smile.

"If there's ever anything we could rely on it's your stomach to know when it's lunch time."

"I cannot help having a high metabolism, it is a burden I have to bear," Illya grinned, "now put each piece of putty across the blade, about 4 foot from the end, that should make them long enough."

The American did as suggested and lit the ends of the fuses he'd put into each piece. Soon the ends of the rotors had been severed by the explosive and lay on the snowy ground.

"Perfect, see I told you…."

"I know, I know," the Russian sighed, "there was a reason why you brought me."

With some cable torn from the inside of the helicopter, Solo tied the makeshift skies to his feet as tightly as he could.

"Well, wish me luck." Napoleon grinned as he pick up the poles and got ready to ski down the hill.

Illya was about to say 'break a leg' but thought better about it and just said, "good luck."

As he watched his partner expertly navigate his way downhill through the trees, Kuryakin sat back against the tree and made himself as comfortable as he could while he waited for rescue.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

PHTTTTT, PHTTTT, PHHTTT

Illya was woken by the sound of bullets landing some meters to his left, small sprays of snow marked the resting places of the slugs.

"Chyort, dremal russkiye imeyut boleye korotkiye zhizni," (Damn, dozing russians have shorter lives) Illya chastised himself, wondering how long he'd been asleep.

Looking up he could see two faces peering down at him.

"Good job they are a poor shot," Kuryakin thought.

He pulled his own weapon out it's holster and tried to turn and aim as best he could, letting off a few rounds. They missed as the heads retreated behind the hill.

Illya shifted his position, gritting his teeth to the pain. He lined up his shot, waiting for a head to reappear. He didn't like to aim for the head, but in this case it was either them or him, and he preferred it to be them.

PFZZZZ, PFZZZZZ

Damn, they'd altered position, he'd hoped they wouldn't do that. But on the plus side, there was not a big area from which to target him, but it would only be luck if he managed to aim for the right place and hit them, at the moment they had the slight advantage.

PHTTTT

"Owww," was followed by a string of Russian expletives as Illa quickly looked at his arm where the bullet had hit him, a crimson bloom already spreading across the white sleeve.

The THRUSH goons aim was improving.

"I know what I can do, I do not think you will be expecting this."

Illya reached for his backpack and pulled out the last of his explosive putty; jabbing a shortened fuse into it, he scanned the top of the hill and decided the best place to aim for. Deciding on the correct spot, he lit the fuse and threw the makeshift grenade, he'd already calculated the size of the resulting blast area and knew it should neutralise both the enemy agents.

"Three, two, one."

BANG,

A large shower of snow was thrown up into the air, grey smoke billowing through it. Illya waited for several minutes, with baited breath, for any form of retaliation, but none came.

"That's better. As Napoleon would say, good riddance to bad rubbish."

The Russian did his best to deal with his injured arm, then settled to wait for Solo.

Within an hour the American arrived in a snowmobile borrowed from the local office.

"What took you so long? It is a good job the cold does not bother me too much otherwise the only thing you might have found was a popsicle."

"Ever the pessimist, what happened here?"

"I had a bit of company while you were away, but I think they got the message I wanted to be left alone. How were the skis?"

"They were just the job, I had a clear run down with no problems."

Solo climbed up and looked down at the aftermath of the explosion, both goons lay dead in the snow, a small smouldering hole visable in the ground.

"A little bit of overkill maybe?" Solo enquired as he returned.

"It was all I had left and the best solution to my predicament; besides, they got blood on my coat and you know how difficult it is to get out."

"I think your concussion must be worse than I thought, since when did you worry about your laundry? Come on, lets get you back and patched up."

"That I agree with, and something to eat, I have missed dinner."

"Now that is more like the Illya I know." Napoleon replied, as he helped his friend to the snowmobile parked nearby.

Comments

[laurose8.livejournal.com]

Thanks for an exciting adventure. Great impro from both; and glad to have you back.

Of all the times to meet the one Thrush goon who can shoot straight...