Illya slid down the sandy embankment to where Napoleon awaited him, hidden in some brush. He settled in beside him and wiped the sweat from his brow.

Napoleon tried to read his expression, but finally gave up and asked, "What do you think?"

"We have two apparent options. There's the outer perimeter fence. It looks electrified, but I can't be sure without taking a hit. It would be a hard climb, but it's away from all prying eyes. If we stay low after we breech it, we should be invisible from the gun turrets. From the outer fence to the wall, it's about a hundred yards, with adequate protection the whole way. Second option is that there's a break in the fence about fifty yards up. It's completely unguarded and a short run to the building. The main entrance is only a few feet from that."

"But?" Napoleon sat up on his haunches to make sure they hadn't been spotted, then dropped back down.

"But?" Illya looked up from checking his weapon, swapping his nearly empty clip for a full one.

"Your but is hanging in the wind." Napoleon grinned at the mental image. "As attractive as it is-"

"It seems too easy and too predictable. A trap?"

"Either that or we are just too damn good at our jobs. I'm going for the former, considering the reputation this place has as being impenetrable."

Illya grinned. "Want to see what trouble we can get into?"

Napoleon closed his eyes and dropped his head to his hands in mock fear. "Oh, God, we're going to die, aren't we?"

"It's a Tuesday. I know how to restrain myself."

"You absolutely do not." Napoleon shook his head in memory. "You took down a five-story building once when you were supposed to just blow a door."

"That wasn't my fault. Section-" Illya fell silent as Napoleon raised a cautionary hand. They both blended into the scenery as a group of men paused nearby.

"Did you hear something?" one asked, looking around. "I thought I did by the break and I know what I saw."

"Are you sure it was Kuryakin?"

"Positive, and that means Solo isn't far behind."

"What do we do?"

"Hope they fall for the trap and do what we have to. I've wanted to bag them for a long time. Come on."

Both Solo and Kuryakin stayed quiet for a long moment, even as the last man suddenly spun, his machine gun at ready. Experience had been a good teacher.

"What do you think?" Illya kept his eyes on the group, even after they disappeared back into the vegetation.

Napoleon was quiet for a long moment. "Do you remember back on the Island? The Wayne Assault?"

"Vaguely. It was rumored to be impossible…" Illya's expression grew sly. "Wait, you figured it out, didn't you?"

"Took me a long time, but, yes, I did. That's probably why you didn't have to 'Live it,'" He made air quotes around the last two words. "Cutter thought he was clever, but experience and he taught me that often the path of least resistant is the one worth choosing."

"And if you're wrong?" Illya wasn't convinced. "It could be a trap within a trap."

"Please. They don't have that much imagination. Besides, what's the worst that could happen?"

"We are killed."

"Death before dishonor. Rather than living with failure."

"Well, it worked for the samurais." Illya shrugged his shoulders. "Let's do it."

Illya pushed the last captive out the front door of the stronghold and into the waiting arms of his fellow UNCLE agents.

Cutter looked both pleased and annoyed at the same time. "How did you figure it out?" he asked Illya, who nodded to Napoleon. He was getting a bullet graze on his forearm cleaned out.

"I should have known." Cutter watched his graduating class being led away in leg irons and chains. "Not nearly good enough."

"Neither were we when we left here," Illya holstered his weapon. "You can only train so much and for so long before you need real life experience to hone your instincts."

"But I use real weapons, real bullets, everything to simulate reality."

"But in the back of their minds, they still know they are in class and protected, in a way. When it's just you and your partner's bleeding out, THRUSH is on top of you and you still haven't fulfilled your mission, it's a whole different ball of string."

"Wax," Cutter corrected. "Ball of wax and you are right." He pursed his lips and walked off, then he paused. "By the way, good job."

"Thank you, sir."

Napoleon joined him. "What were you thanking Cutter for?"

"He said we did a good job."

"Really? High praise." The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon. "Ready to hit the hay?"

"More than. If we stay here one more minute, Cutter is likely to recruit us to deliver the after-mission report."

It was as if that moment Cutter realized he'd forgotten something and turned, but both men were gone. He smiled grimly and nodded. "Good job, indeed."