"I have bad news and good news, what would you like to hear first?"
The others all frowned, glancing at each other, before turning their attention back to Waverly.
"Let's… go for the bad news first." Napoleon cautiously spoke up.
"The bad news is that the helicopter has had a small technical failure and therefore won't be coming."
"And…" Napoleon frowned, "… You don't have any other helicopters?! At all!?"
"None that I can just summon like that." Waverly snapped his fingers together, "However, there is some good news."
Silence.
"That annoying alarm sound has stopped."
He was right… which meant that the rest of the CIA were making their way inside, and soon, it would be discovered that they'd escaped.
"I do not see how this is good news." Illya confirmed what they were all thinking, "Without that helicopter, we will eventually be found and back at the beginning. All of us locked up, as well as Lyov."
Waverly winced, "I was… attempting to make the situation a little more humorous. My apologies."
"You- "Napoleon cut himself off, spinning around and growling into his hands. When he pulled his hands away from his eyes, he spotted Lyov carrying a large wooden plank over to the edge of the rooftop, "- Kid, what are you doing."
"Escaping!" The plank of wood was nowhere close to reaching the next building over, but Lyov was undeterred, throwing it to one side and peering over the side of the building, "There's a drainpipe here! Why don't we climb down it?"
"Because some of aren't young anymore." Napoleon grumbled, already feeling the twinge in his back at the thought of shimmying down a drainpipe. Thief Napoleon would have leapt at the chance, but now, it was never going to happen.
"It feels really sturdy here!" Lyov didn't seem to hear Napoleon's grumbles, shaking the drainpipe as hard as he could, "And it leads down into an alleyway! We can hotwire a car and- "
"- Or we can find another method of getting out of here." Waverly sighed, "Maybe all hope is not quite lost."
As Waverly went off to the corner, muttering to himself, Lyov sighed and flopped down onto the roof. "Can I have a story?"
Illya and Napoleon glanced at each in bemusement.
"Pardon?"
"A story... can I have a story?" Lyov paused, "The Rasputin one!"
Napoleon turned to Illya, an amused smile on his face. "The Rasputin story?"
"It was a good story to get him to go to sleep." Illya defended, sniffing when Napoleon continued to smirk at him, "And it is a warning."
"A warning for what?"
"Anyone can be killed, even if it takes long time and many different ways."
"… Most children like Little Red Riding Hood…. Jack and the Beanstalk… things like that."
Illya shrugged, "I find Russian stories to be better. Less fairy nonsense."
"Fairy nonsense is what makes child stories, child stories!" Napoleon protested, "You take away the magic, you're taking away childhood!"
"Rasputin was very hard to kill, and was known as a magic man, it is very in keeping with childhood!"
Before Napoleon could argue further, Waverly nervously spoke up, "Gentlemen, if I could just interrupt for a moment?" He pointed up to the sky, where a rickety looking plane was fast approaching.
"Waverly. What is that?"
"Our backup."
Down below, it sounded like others had noticed the plane, giving them very little time to get on and get away. The biplane looked like it had definitely seen better days as it slowly landed on top of the roof.
"We will not all fit." Illya scowled at the plane, before turning to Waverly, "That is too small. We will not fit."
"We've made some modifications to it… and all of us aren't going to be in it."
Napoleon and Illya frowned, "What do you mean?"
"I mean that me and Miss Teller will escape another way. It's you three they're after."
Immediately Napoleon and Illya started to protest, both trying to talk over one another, until Waverly held up his hand, "As your boss, I feel obligated to tell you that there's going to be no debate about this. You two will be leaving with your son, and Gaby and I will leave another way."
"Waverly- "
"- This isn't up for discussion!"
The door to the roof suddenly started to rattle on its hinges, as everyone spun round to stare at it in alarm.
"Go! Now!" Waverly ordered, "It'll be a tight fit, but you'll make it!"
Illya snatched Lyov into his arms and raced over to the plane, closely followed by a still-protesting Napoleon.
"We can't leave them Illya!"
"We have to." Illya climbed into the back seat shuffling over as much as he could, "I will not lose my son to these American monsters."
As much as Napoleon wanted to protest, he couldn't help but agree with the sentiment slightly. Only just managing to fit in the plane himself, he ran a soothing hand through Lyov's hair, his other hand clutching the side of the plane as they started to take off.
He preferred First Class accommodations.
…
"Oh yeah." Napoleon muttered, when the plane finally touched down, way outside of the city's limits, "That really helped cure him of his fear of flying."
Lyov had his head buried in Napoleon's neck, muffled sobs breaking through.
"In fact…" Napoleon continued, "… I think I might be afraid of flying now."
"You are not helping." Illya frowned, reaching over and taking Lyov into his arms, "We are back on the ground. There is no need to cry anymore."
Lyov didn't listen, the events of the day having caught up to him. He was tired, he was hungry, and he just wanted to go home.
"So, what do we do now?" Napoleon sighed, "We can't go back home, that'll be the first place they look. Maybe we can go to the UNCLE headquarters."
"Too far." Illya muttered, "I have safehouse. We go there."
"A safehouse? Wouldn't that have been useful information earlier!"
"Shut up and follow."
