Napoleon Solo watched his partner moving effortlessly across the roof, silhouetted against the the backdrop of the bright city lights, when he suddenly saw the flash of muzzle fire just to his left.
Illya arched his back, hurtling forward then disappeared from his view. Solo took careful aim in the direction of the flash; firing two silenced rounds from his special...hearing a loud a grunt; he knew he'd hit his mark.
His thoughts were already racing to his partner as he scrambled from one roof to the next until he reached where he last saw the Russian; finding no sign, he called out to him from the darkened roof top.
"Illya!"
"Here," came a muffled reply, beneath where Solo was standing. He looked over the edge of the building; spotting his partner dangling by his hand from the railing of the fire escape.
"A little help would be good now?" Illya called up to him.
Napoleon jumped down, grabbing Illya's arms; helping to hoist him up onto the grating. He held on, keeping the Russian steady as there was a large gash on his forehead but when Solo found blood on his hand; he realized Illya had been wounded in the shoulder.
"Apparently I have... been... shot?" Illya said in an unsteady voice before passing out into Napoleon's arms.
Napoleon lowered his partner down, leaning Illya's back against the side of the building as he tried to open a nearby window...it was better to try to carry him through the interior than to navigate the narrow ladders of the fire escape with Illya slung over his shoulder.
The window was unlocked and raising it slowly; he peeked inside the room making sure it was clear...it was obviously a woman's bedroom... He lifted his partner, maneuvering through the opening carefully, then laying him face down on the bed. Illya always had a switchblade cradled in the back of his jacket, and he reached down inside,slipping it out of it's sleeve, then used it to cut the shoulder of the Russian's jacket and turtleneck open.
He'd taken the hit in his left shoulder...but it was a through and through...at least the bullet didn't have to be removed and it looked to be fairly shallow.
He found the bathroom, grabbing some peroxide and towels...pouring the liquid into the wound, watching the disinfectant foam pink with the Russian's blood. He tore a white towel into strips, wrapping the wound and tying it tight.
That would at least do until he could at least get him out of the building and to medical at headquarters.
Then he looked at Illya's forehead...pouring more peroxide on it...the wound didn't look too bad, but there was a sizable lump..at that moment Illya came to, uttering a few choice words in Russian.
He helped his partner to sit up and Illya not waiting to be asked muttered "...I am fine."
"I hate to ask you this...but did you get the microfilm?"
"In the heel of my right shoe..."Illya answered, trying to maintain his composure as he attempted to get up from the bed.
"You sure you can walk?"
"Where are we?"
"Not quite sure...I lost track of how many rooftops we crossed before you got clipped. I shot the one who did it though, so I'm sure some of his feathered friends will be hovering about soon enough."
Illya tried to stand, suddenly swaying on his feet, feeling light-headed.
"Whoa...hang on there buddy," Napoleon said as he grabbed the Russian around the waist, steadying him," alright, we gotta get you out of here."
He sat Illya back down on the bed for a minute, intending to make sure the coast was clear before they ventured into the rest of the apartment...he opened the bedroom door slowly, just enough to give him a view, then finding they were alone; Napoleon lifted his partner up from the the bed, supporting him as the made it outside the apartment to the landing.
"You know this was supposed to be an easy milk-run. I do not know how Thrush found out about our dead-drop...we were compromised somehow." Illya grumbled... "Napoleon I will only slow you down," he said reaching down to his shoe, slipping open the heel; removing the container of microfilm," Take it... you can get it back to headquarters faster without me slowing you down. It is not that far away..."
"It's not that far away that I can't get you there...llya I'm not leaving you..."
"Napoleon, I will wait here for you to come back... trust me, I will be O.K.!"
He knew his partner was right...he could get it to headquarters in no time by himself, then get right back with a medical team...Solo reluctantly took the microfilm...helping Illya to an alcove that was somewhat hidden in the shadows.
"Are you sure you'll be alright?"
Illya held his waved his special reminding Solo he was armed. "Go!"
Napoleon took off to the stairs, calling back..."I'll be back, I promise."
"No, never mind coming back...just send help!"
Illya huddled himself into a ball, staying hidden in the dark end of the corridor, keeping his weapon at the ready. His head was throbbing and he was light-headed again, suddenly feeling as though he could hardly keep his eyes open...his head dropped down to his chest as he passed out.
Napoleon knew that they had spotted him as soon as he was a block away...two Thrush agents suddenly gave chase as he ran into an alley way at a dead run, climbing a fence at it's end, then ducked behind a dumpster on the other side.
His pursuers scaled the fence, then continued on, running out to the next block, turning left and heading away from him. Napoleon climbed back over the fence, doubling back down the alley...
He pulled his communicator, sure he'd finally given them the slip.
"Open Channel D- Waverly."
"Mr. Solo...you are overdue." answered the familiar British voice.
"Yes sir...we ran into a...umm, flock of birds. The drop was compromised, I have the package and will be report in shortly... but Mr. Kuryakin has been injured, I had to leave him behind...if we could send a medical team out, I would be very much relieved?" He gave Waverly the address that was in the Murray Hill section of Manhattan...
"Very good Mr. Solo... you stay put where you are, I will send transportation to pick you up, keep your communicator open to transmit your homing signal and I will send out an emergency pickup immediately for Mr. Kuryakin. I am sure we'll have him here back at headquarters by the time you arrive...Waverly out."
A half hour later, Solo walked into the Waverly's conference room holding out the expected micofilm.
Waverly took it from him, placing it in a special container then handed it to Lisa Rogers..."If you would be so good as to take this to be analyzed... now Mr. Solo, there has been some complication. The medical team was unable to locate Mr. Kuryakin at the address you provided."
"They found only this..." Alexander Waverly held up a communicator pen." Apparently it was lying at the end the third floor corridor. They also found blood traces and there were scuff marks on the floor as if someone had been dragged...they searched the premises but unfortunately no other trace of him was found. I fear he may have been discovered boy those Thrush agents...that is most distressing indeed."
"Sir, if it's alright with you; I'd like to go back and canvass the area?
"You may...but just be careful, just in case Thrush may still be in the area in the area...take a few agents with you."
Napoleon exited the office heading straight to Elliott's office...walking through the door finding her working on a report with her partner Ari Ziv...
"Napoleon...to what do I owe this honor from ye?" she smiled.
"Ellie...we've got a bit of a problem..."