"You know we really must stop getting caught like this," the Russian groused.
"Like we do it on purpose?" Napoleon was able to finally blow away a bit of straw dangling from the end of his nose with a valiant huff.
Both agent's clothing were covered in it, along with other bits and bobs of detritus commonly associated with a barn. They were hanging from a rafter, dangling by their bound wrists as they'd yet again been captured in the middle of an assignment.
The place was Krupski Farms, a place for the breeding of chickens for a company well known for their high quality chicken products. Right now the farm was in production of chicks to be sold for Easter. THRUSH had somehow ingratiated themselves into the business, most likely for a nefarious purpose that was yet to be discerned by the UNCLE agents.
"Exploding chicks," the Russian suggested.
Napoleon cringned at such a horrific thought. "Only you would think of something like that."
If it weren't for the fact he was hanging with his arms above his head, Illya would have shrugged.
"It does not make sense for a man of our captor's caliber not to be up to something with so many birds."
The new owner, who was the man Illya was speaking of, was affectionately known a Farmer Dan. He was an innocuous looking bald headed man, thin as a rail and looked like he couldn't harm a fly. To most he seemed quite affable, but none of them knew the true identity of the man.
In reality he was one of the deadliest THRUSH operatives known to the Command. The man's seemingly harmless nature fooled everyone, until intelligence was obtained by an UNCLE operative, revealing Farmer Dan's true nature.
He was a heartless killer, used by the Hierarchy to dispatch whomever they deemed an annoyance.
Napoleon and Illya were sent to eliminate him, and instead he captured them and was about to exterminate both agents.
"Don't you have any tricks up your sleeves, or knives in your shoes Illya?"
"No, I am sorry, for once I have nothing, and why must it be me who has to have the hardware? Why do you not have a knife blade embedded in your shoe?"
"And ruin this finely made Italian leather? Not on your life!"
"It may be on both our lives my friend."
"Come on Illya, don't hold out on me, I know you can do something to get us out of this? You're the acrobatic one," Napoleon pursed his lips, staring at his partner.
"Oh all right. I was trying to give you the chance to take the lead, but as usual…"
"Oh stop your grousing, I get us out plenty of jams and you know it. Aren't I always coming to your rescue just like the cavalry?"
Kuryakin huffed, he had to admit Napoleon was right, as usual.
"Fine, I can manage this." Illya dead lifted his legs to a pike position, though it was with some effort as he'd broken out in a sweat. He was able to swing his legs up and over the beam from which he and Solo were hanging.
With his body weight off his wrists, he removed the rope from the hook, and quickly untied his wrists. He shimmied along the rafter to his partner, but he realized that wouldn't do.
Illya swung down to the barn floor with the ease of a gymnast.
"Nice landing, now will you please help me down. I'm not as agile as you," Napoleon said.
"I know,"Illya snickered.
"Funny Kuryakin."
Illya looked around the barn for a ladder but there was none to be had, but he did spot a scythe.
"Oh noooo," Napoleon groaned. He closed his eyes tightly, as he cringed, but then peeked.
"I will be careful, I promise." Kuryakin reached up with the razor sharp implement, and with one swipe he cut Solo's bindings.
Napoleon too landed on his feet.
"Nice landing," Illya nodded.
"I know," Napoleon proceeded to brush off his jacket, the trousers would have to wait.
They dashed out a small door cut inside the main barn door and found themselves facing something they didn't expect.
It was a field of thousands of yellow chicks, and going through them was their only means of escape.
"No time like the present tovarisch," Napoleon took the lead and as they quickly but gingerly walked among the chicks, the birds began to loudly peep.
"Peep peep peep-peep peep peep," and on and on they went as the chicks began to scatter and bunch up in a panic.
Feathers went flying, among other more disgusting things.
"Achoo!" Illya sneezed.
"Hey don't give us away,"Napoleon hissed.
"Sorry, my allergies." Illya held the next one in, burying his face in the crook of his arm to muffle the noise.
Suddenly an alarm wailed in the distance.
"Woop-woop, woop- woop!"
"Damn!" Solo cursed."They know we're gone.
Both men spun in a circle, looking for a place to hide but there was apparently only one thing to do, and that was to lay down among the chicks and hope for the best.
Sounds of men yelling and car engines roaring filled the air over the din of the chicks and the sirens.
As the agents remained still the little yellow creatures, not the brightest of birds, climbed over them, camouflaging them completely as they bunched up on top of Napoleon and Illya
The men waited in silence, with Kuryakin desperately fighting off sneezing again.
Sometime later they heard a familiar voice calling their names.
"Napoleon darling, Illya? Are you here, it's me April."
"Oy mates, come out come out wherever you are. Coast is clear. We've caught all the birdies," Mark Slate shouted.
"Not all of them," Napoleon called back.
He and Illya stood, revealing themselves but they were covered in feathers, stuck to them because of hundreds of bird droppings.
Illya looked down at Napoleon shoes," So much for the fine Italian leather...as well as your suit. Mr. Waverly will be so pleased."
"Hey you're in the same mess as I am."
"Ahhh, but my suit is off the rack from Macy's as are my shoes," Kuryakin chuckled. "That is why my expense reports regarding clothing are never a problem."
Napoleon cocked his head,"Wait, that grey suit of yours is from Macy's?"
"Yes, expertly fitted of course by Del Floria."
Napoleon wiggled his nose as he shook his head. That was a really nice suit.
Somehow Illya was still that 'smart Russian.' For a brief second Solo thought about going to Macy's to take a look at their suits….
"Nah," he shot his cuffs, trying to maintain some dignity as he and Illya navigated yet again through the field of chicks.