The Never-Never Affair
The shooting range was packed with observers, there to see the contest between Solo and Kuryakin.
"You are aware that when you miss, the fact that you bested my scores at Survival School will mean little, if anything. Are you sure you want to do this, Illya?"
"I most certainly do. It wasn't that difficult to shoot Gervais in your position."
"I beg to differ, mon ami. Let's get to it, shall we?"
Illya set up the scene, including Napoleon being cuffed and tied to a chair.
Napoleon fired once, hitting the human silhouette right low center mass. Applause filtered in from the gallery. "No one will think less of you if you concede now."
Illya raised an eyebrow, but otherwise seemed unimpressed.
They traded positions. Napoleon whispered in Illya's ear as he made sure the rope was tight, "Not too late to back out, tovarishch."
"You should know by now, my 'smart' American, I never back away from a challenge."
Illya fired three rounds in rapid succession. The silhouette had a hole in each cheek and one in the middle of the forehead.
The observers went wild and their bets were quickly settled.
Napoleon's mouth dropped open.
Illya's lips curved up, smug written all over them. "Your previous and our current employer don't require such an ability. However, my previous employer did."
"Did your previous employer teach you how to get out of this?" He tugged at the rope. He turned away, smirked, and left the range, but not before he heard a slightly desperate and very irritated ...
"Napoleon!"
[260 words]