"So here we are again Tovarisch," Napoleon let his head drift back in resignation.
He and his partner were strung up by their hands, dangling from a pipe in the ceiling of a dark and dank basement.
"It could be worse, the basement could be flooding with water."
No sooner had the Russian said that then a water pipe burst, doing just that.
"Are you happy now?" Napoleon blurted out.
"Happy about what? You think because I said it, that made it so? Napoleon you are being ridiculous."
"No I'm not, I think you take joy in these things happening to us."
Illya's head shot round, allowing him to give his partner and icy glare.
"Why would it make me happy to have the water rising beneath us?"
"Because...you seem to relish being in these no-win situations. I swear you thrive on the impending doom, even though you're crying you're going to die, you manage to get yourself out every time...and you're even more happy that you have boasting rights about your miraculous escape."
"Hmmm, perhaps your are right in part. I do take pleasure in the derring-do escapes and extricating myself against the odds. It is preeminent in my mind that we both escape. Yes I suppose you are right, it does make me happy in a way. As I recall I once told you my inner thoughts about my gun, and how it makes me feel as well."
"Yes I remember your drug-induced meanderings about happiness being a warm gun. * At the time I found it a bit Freudian chum….hmm I'd forgotten about that."
There was a moment of silence between the two as they listened to the water rushing and gurgling at their feet.
"Napoleon what makes you happy?"
He didn't answer but instead Solo tried swinging himself to loosen the ropes around his wrists but it was a no go, and finally out of exasperation he replied his partner's question.
"Well besides the obvious...women of course. It's life that makes me happy. I believe that things will always get better, and we're in part responsible for that."
"Ah yes ever the optimist," Illya actually smiled.
"Though I'm not feeling too optimistic at the moment," he said as the water was now at calf level. Napoleon resigned himself, uncharacteristically, to the fact they were finally going to meet their end. "I'm happy that we're together at the end chum...not that I wouldn't want you to live. Just glad you're here."
"Ah Napoleon you speak prematurely."
Illya kicked up his feet, swinging them with enough momentum to move along the pipe and get him closer to his partner. He then pulled a difficult gymnastic style move and dead lifted his legs together. In one quick motion he tapped the front of his left shoe with the other, and pffft… a small pointed blade was protruding from the sole in the front of the shoe.
"Do not move Napoleon whatever you do," he struggled to get the words out. Lifting the blade to his partner's tied hands; he sawed through the ropes, just enough for Solo to work his way free and drop to the water. It was now up to his waist as he stood on the basement floor.
Illya continued to lift his leg at an impossible angle and sliced the ropes binding his own wrists until he too was free and dropped with a splash.
Together they headed to a stack of wooden crates, filled with who knew what, but heavy enough to keep them in place and not floating away as other things were bobbing around them in the water.
As Illya hoisted himself up he, again tapped the front of his left shoe, retracting the blade.
The partners climbed their way to safety, reaching the only basement window, opening it and crawling out to safety.
As they lay on the ground gasping for air, Solo lifted his head, staring at Illya, sending daggers at him with is brown eyes.
"And when were you going to tell me you had a knife? Why didn't you use it after they first hung us there like a couple of sides of beef?"
"I forgot I had it," Illya tried shrugging while laying on his back. "It is old Soviet trick, the blade in the shoe. These are my old ones and I forgot the blade was there. I had to be careful using it as the metal was coated with a fast acting poison."
"What?" Napoleon blurted out," You could have warned me?"
"And make you more nervous? I think not," Illya sat up.
"I wasn't nervous."
"Excuse me, you were the one resigning yourself to death...which is my purview by the way. You are supposed to be the optimist, as I recall."
"You're doing this to torment me aren't you?"
Illya smiled,"Perhaps."
"Hmm another thing that makes you happy chum?"
"Most definitely."
Napoleon rose, offering his partner a hand up. His face gave way his mood.
"We need to talk about this little twist in your personality."
"Whatever makes you happy," Illya smiled as they trotted off to safety, yet both men thought it as they had survived together yet another day.
.
* ref "Happiness is ..."
