The two helicopters swooped in on the compound, with two dozen men dressed in black carrying their carbines, and armed to the hilt with smoke and gas grenades.
They hopped to the ground as soon as they were low enough and charged a dilapidated building in the middle of nowhere, fanning out as they began to take rapid fire from the occupants.
Napoleon Solo signalled to his second, indicating for him and his men to head right, while Solo took center, and the third team took the left flank; all coordinating their efforts to reach one central location.
One by one they picked off the masked occupants, and Solo headed down a long colonnade supporting an overhang; he was the first to reach the goal, a single rusted metal door.
"Ready," Napoleon raised his hand in silence, giving the to this men as he kicked in the door. The sole occupant cried out in a guttural language as he was shot down, but not before releasing a grenade, tossing it at the UNCLE agents. As it exploded, the room filled with red gas.
They were done.
"You are dead," Illya Kuryakin called out, removing the mask from his face as he rolled over on the floor, examining the red spatters on his chest from the paint-filled dummy bullets.
"So are you," Napoleon said, giving him a hand up.
"That is the purpose of the exercise, killing me and my men, but not getting yourself killed in the process. There was a hesitation on your part when you opened the door; it allowed me time to reach for my grenade."
A familiar voice came over a loudspeaker. "Gentlemen, that was the worst time yet. Change your positions and we'll run through it again." It was Jules Cutter and he didn't sound happy.
Napoleon threw his head back with a moan.
"I heard that Solo...what are you doing, getting too old to handle a bunch of new recruits?" He taunted the senior agent.
"No, Jules," he decided to go back at him and called out.
"The problem with this exercise is it's too predictable. We've done it so many times that we're anticipating everything. The element of surprise is gone."
There was silence until Cutter appeared out of nowhere through the doorway behind Napoleon and Illya.
"Okay Solo, come up with a scenario."
Napoleon smiled as he was the master of the impromptu strategy.
"How about a jungle assault, some guerilla warfare perhaps? It'll add more of an element of surprise."
"I like it. Both of you get your men and take a break at the main compound while I work this out. But you, Kuryakin, you'll have the assault team and Solo will coördinate the defending forces." Cutter disappeared out the door as quickly as he'd appeared.
Illya flashed his partner an unhappy look. "You had to suggest that? These men are exhausted, it is no wonder their times are getting slower. I do not thing mucking about in the jungle will make them perform any faster."
They walked out of the building together. "And how many times have we been running on empty while in the field?" Napoleon asked.
"True, and speaking of running on empty. We need to get to the commissary, I am hungry," the Russian patted his stomach.
"What else is new," Napoleon snickered.