Chapter 9. Thanks for the reviews on chapter 8! The story is not complete yet, there will be one more chapter. This one was fun to write (I sometimes act out some of the action/fight scenes to make sure it works :) ). I hope you like it.
Unknown location, Gaby's p.o.v.
Gaby felt her heart sink. It wasn't exactly the kind of diversion she had been hoping for. Still determined to cover Illya's approach, she let out a particularly high-pitched sob that surprised even her. The scientist laughed.
"Now, now, no need to get hysterical, Miss Teller. He'll hardly feel a thing."
Gaby risked a furtive glance at Illya. He was now inside the room and slowly closing the distance between him and the scientist. Something was odd, though. Why was he keeping his hands behind his back? It looked like he was about to surprise the scientist with a bouquet of flowers.
Her captor gave a theatrical sigh and went on.
"Would it make you feel better if I asked him for his opinion?"
He put the barrel of the gun under the agent's chin and used it to tip his head up.
"So, tell me, young man, would you rather end it now, or experience more of this?"
As he uttered those last words, he stomped on the poor man's wounded leg, causing him to yelp loudly.
"Hmm, you're going to have to be a little more articulate than that."
His only answer was the sound of the agent's jerky breathing.
"I see. You're leaving it up to me. That's settled, then.", the scientist said, bringing the gun back up against the agent's forehead.
Come on Illya, now!..
The gun went off.
Unknown location, Illya's p.o.v.
Illya cursed inwardly. He had thought he would have more time to plan his move. Sneaking up behind an armed man without attracting his attention was already tricky, and now he had to do it fast enough to make sure the American agent didn't repaint the wall with his American brains. Their captor's sick little game of "would you rather" had bought him some time but he had only covered half the distance and the bastard was about to open the agent's third eye with a bullet. Illya hesitated for a fraction of a second. He would only have one shot at this. He needed to take the man down in one move. He stepped slightly to the left so that he would hit the man diagonally and throw off his aim to the right – away from Gaby. Then he started running. He barreled into the man shoulder first just as the gun was going off. The bullet hit the wall to the right of the agent's head. The poor man's life had probably flashed before his eyes, but at least it hadn't ended. The tricky part of the plan had gone relatively well, now came the much trickier part: fighting an armed opponent with his hands cuffed behind his back. As Illya landed awkwardly, he felt something dig into his stomach. The knife. He remembered he had slipped it into his waistband when he had been escaping the guards. Unfortunately it didn't make much difference. With his hands cuffed there was no way he could reach it. Thankfully, the man had gone down and dropped the gun when he had crashed into him but when Illya tried to pin him down, his opponent escaped him with surprising agility and kicked him in the face. Without his hands to protect himself, Illya took the full force of the kick and pain blinded him for a second. The man seized the opportunity to get up and retrieve the gun. Aware of the danger, Illya got to his feet as quickly as he could. But not quickly enough. Just as he was standing up, ready to lunge at his opponent, he saw the gun trained on his chest.
Too late…
He heard Gaby scream and flinched as the man pulled the trigger, expecting to feel the bullet rip through his flesh. But the gun clicked empty. Their captor had probably used up his last rounds torturing the CIA agent. Illya noisily released the breath he'd been holding, his heart hammering madly, as if applauding this happy turn of events. His relief was short lived though as the man ejected the empty magazine and started reaching into an inside pocket.
I don't think so…
Illya delivered a brutal kick which sent the gun flying. Then he charged straight at his opponent. The man fell backwards and Illya attempted to pin him down with his body, fully intending to head-butt him to death. But the man let out a howl of rage and immediately tried to claw at his eyes. Once again unable to protect his face, Illya leaned back to escape the man's clawing hands. The bottom of his shirt lifted slightly, revealing the handle of the knife, right in front of his opponent's eyes. With disconcerting speed, the man pulled the knife free and slashed sideways. Illya barely had the time to throw himself backwards and the blade grazed his chin instead of slashing his throat. He tried to spread his arms out to restore his balance but of course, the handcuffs wouldn't let him. He rolled uselessly onto his back and gasped as his opponent pounced on him, driving both knees into his gut. The man really was surprisingly faster and stronger than he looked. And now he had a knife. As Illya attempted to wiggle free, his opponent placed a firm hand on his chest, painfully digging his fingers into his sternum, transferring his weight onto Illya's upper body to limit his movements. Illya gritted his teeth as he felt his cuffed hands being crushed under him.
"It's a shame I didn't get to watch you cut out Solo's heart… But I'll take great pleasure in ripping yours out.", the man said, slowly raising the knife.
Not good…
Illya let out an involuntary wheezing sound; it was becoming hard to breathe with the man's weight pushing down on his chest. Fortunately, because the man was applying most of his weight on Illya's torso, he was neglecting his legs. It was all Illya had left and he was going to use them. He managed to pull his left leg free and used it to push against his opponent's knee, breaking his balance and causing him to fall forward – thankfully, the man held his right hand out to catch himself, dropping the knife as he went down. Illya trapped the man's other leg with his own, then he bridged up, pushing hard on his left leg, rotating his opponent over and away from the knife. Wary of the man's fast reflexes, Illya wasted no time and head-butted him hard, thinking at the same time that he would be lucky if he didn't end up with a concussion. Then he sprang to his feet, just as the dazed man was attempting to sit up. He hurriedly stepped around his recovering opponent and, standing with his back to him, he squatted down and quickly slipped his cuffed hands over the man's head, bringing the short chain under his chin, around his throat like a garrote. Then he straightened his legs, dragging the man up with him and pulling hard with his arms to compress his opponent's trachea. The man started making loud choking noises and clawed brutally at Illya's hands, trying at the same time to relieve the pressure on his windpipe by pushing himself up with his feet. Cursing, Illya took a few steps to keep his opponent off balance and pulled even harder, bending forward. The muscles of his shoulders were screaming and his wrists were starting to feel numb.
This bastard just won't die...
Finally, the choking noises stopped and Illya felt the man's body go slack. He didn't let go and, grunting from the pain in his shoulders, pulled hard one last time until he felt something give inside the man's throat. Only then did he let the body drop to the floor. Breathing hard, his heart pounding, he turned to look at his dead opponent. It was the first opportunity he had to have a good look at the man since he had entered the room. He thought he vaguely recognized the man from a previous mission. Some crazy scientist, if he remembered correctly. It was hard to be sure with all the burn scars, though. He stepped away from the body and looked up at Gaby.
"Are you okay?", he asked, still trying to catch his breath.
She was silently staring at him, her eyes wide, incredulous. After a few seconds, she finally spoke.
"You have your hands cuffed behind your back."
Illya opened his mouth to answer but a groan of pain coming from the CIA agent reminded him that the poor man still had a hole in his leg and was probably going to bleed out. Straining his shoulders, he retrieved the handcuff key from his pocket and handed it to Gaby, turning his back to her so that she could uncuff him. Once they were both free, Illya rushed to the CIA agent's side and started unbuttoning his shirt as Gaby unlocked his cuffs. He took a look at the man's leg wound, it was still bleeding but there was no spurting and the blood flow was slow. Good. That meant no arterial bleeding. With Gaby's help he removed the agent's shirt, frowning as he noticed the bullet impacts on the man's ballistic vest. He balled up the shirt and handed it to Gaby who pressed it firmly against the agent's leg. The man gasped and jerked. Illya put a hand on his shoulder to still him. Judging by the impacts on the man's vest, the next step was going to be even more painful for him.
"I need to remove the vest. Try not to move.", Illya said softly.
After a couple of painful minutes, the vest was off and Illya gently helped the agent lean back against the wall. He took a look at the man's torso and he and Gaby exchanged a concerned glance. The CIA agent's chest was swollen and covered in impressive bruises, a thin trickle of blood was slowly running from a shallow circular hole just above his right nipple. The small wound on the man's chest, suddenly reminded Illya of what he had almost done to his partner earlier. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind and looked up at the injured man's face.
"It does not look good."
"That's a little harsh… I exercise daily…", the agent answered weakly, his mouth curling up into a boyish smile.
Illya rolled his eyes.
Cowboy would probably get along well with this guy…
Again, he pushed the thought aside and started feeling along the agent's ribs as gently as he could. As he pressed his fingers against a particularly swollen area, the agent cried out. His cry turned into a coughing fit and Illya frowned as he saw droplets of bright red blood drip onto the man's chin. He checked the agent's pulse and his frown deepened.
"Give me the good news first.", the man said with a weak smile.
Illya sighed. It looked like they weren't going to get any spontaneous help from the MI6 and even if he managed to contact Waverly and his boss agreed to send a rescue team with medical help, they would never arrive in time. The agent was probably going to die.
"The bullet in your leg missed the artery and the bleeding is not too severe. But you seem to have several badly broken ribs and you're bleeding internally. I can't do anything about the internal bleeding. Without quick medical treatment, you're going to die."
The agent glanced at Gaby.
"Is he always that cheerful?"
Unknown location, Gaby's p.o.v.
Gaby kept nervously chewing her bottom lip as she finished wrapping and securing the shirt around the CIA guy's leg. Illya was busy retrieving the gun and looking for spare magazines on the scientist's body and in the cabinets. She looked up at the agent. Illya was right. He really didn't look well. His face was covered with a sheen of sweat and his breathing was rapid and shallow. After a couple of minutes, Illya was back with the gun loaded and a spare magazine, ready to go find the radio transmitter and attempt to contact Waverly. He motioned for Gaby to stand up and led her away from the agent.
"It's time to go.", he said, keeping his voice low.
"I'm staying here.", Gaby answered, pointing at the injured man. "Someone needs to stay with him. And keep an eye on Sleeping Beauty-Solo."
She saw Illya's blue eyes narrow in frustration and shift to the CIA agent.
"He's not going to make it. Nothing you can do to help him.", he said, his Russian accent becoming slightly thicker as he grew impatient.
"At least he won't die alone. And what about Solo?"
Gaby noticed that Illya avoided her gaze every time she mentioned Napoleon.
"Solo will be fine. The door is locked. No one can get to him. But the door to this room can't be locked and the guards who are still looking for me will come here to report back to their boss at some point. And you have no weapon."
She said nothing and stared at him challengingly for a few seconds.
"Fine.", he growled. "Wait here."
Cursing under his breath, he exited the room before Gaby could ask for an explanation. A few minutes later he was back. With two guns.
"Got it from the guard who handcuffed me. They haven't found his body yet.", he explained, placing the guard's gun into Gaby's hand. As he turned to leave, Gaby caught him by the forearm and gave it a slight squeeze, hoping he understood the message.
Hurry up and don't get in trouble…
She closed the door behind him and walked over to the scientist's body. He had already come back from the dead once and she wanted to make sure it wouldn't happen again. One look into the sightless eyes reassured her, Illya had definitely been more thorough than her. She returned to the agent's side and started using her sleeve to gently wipe the sweat from his face. She knew it was useless but she needed to keep her hands busy. They sat in silence for a while, lost in their respective thoughts, when suddenly, the agent's shaky voice brought Gaby back to reality.
"Your partner's awake…"
He was right. On the screen she could see that Napoleon's eyes were open and scanning the room. She rushed to the control panel to activate the microphone just as her partner attempted to lift his head and began to groan in pain.
"Solo! It's Gaby! You're injured, try not to move."
"Gaby…"
She noticed the weird way he was uttering her name, as if he was trying to decide whether he liked it or not. Illya had warned her that he might be slightly confused from the drug when he regained consciousness.
"Everything hurts…", he said, his face screwed up in pain. "Feels like I got hit by a train."
"The Moscow express, to be more precise."
"What…?"
"Nothing."
"Gaby?"
He sounded distressed now.
"What's wrong, Solo?"
"Where is my shirt?"
"Illya used it to dress your wounds."
"Where is Illya?"
"He's trying to contact Waverly to ask for a rescue team."
"He stabbed me…"
"I know, it was a bit over the top… Don't touch the knife!"
She let out a sharp breath of relief as Napoleon's hand, which had started to reach for the knife handle, dropped back to the floor. At that moment the CIA agent was seized by a violent coughing fit. As she turned to him he gave her a weak thumbs up and mouthed: "I'm fine". Her eyes lingered on the fresh bright red droplets on his chin before she turned her attention back to the screen.
"Just lie still, try to relax, Solo. Help will be here soon, hopefully"
"Gaby?"
She sighed. Woozy Solo was just as talkative as regular Solo.
"What?"
"Your eyes are pretty…"
"Thank you."
"And Illya's eyes are beautiful, too. I think your eyes should go on a date…"
Gaby frowned and, much to her annoyance, she felt herself blushing. Thankfully, she had her back turned to the CIA guy.
"He might feel a little woozy", yeah right…
Just as she was starting to wonder exactly what kind of drug Illya had given to Napoleon she heard distant shouting and gunshots. She grabbed the gun and exchanged a tense look with the CIA agent. Now she could hear footsteps in the corridor. She got up and trained the gun on the door. She kept her finger off the trigger, aware that the person outside might be Illya. The door opened slowly and she breathed a sigh of relief as she glimpsed a frowning face topped with messy light hair. His frown cleared as he saw that she was safe.
"What's going on out there?", Gaby asked. "I heard gunshots. Did you manage to contact Waverly?"
"I didn't have to. Rescue team is here.", Illya replied.
He turned toward the CIA agent, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"You might survive, after all."
Gaby felt so relieved that she almost forgot to tell Illya about Napoleon.
"By the way, Solo's awake."
His smile disappeared and she saw him shoot a furtive glance at the screen. He looked uneasy.
"Good.", he muttered before he started heading for the door.
"Wait! "good"? That's it? And where are you going?"
"I need to help the others and guide the medical team.", he replied hurriedly as he exited the room.
Gaby stared at the closed door for a few seconds, puzzled by her partner's behavior.
What's the matter with you, Illya?...
End of chapter 9.
The more sadistic the bad guy is, the more satisfying it is when he finally gets what he deserves ;) (and I feel like I have to find a name for that CIA agent now :s :) )