Part Two: A disagreement with the trees...

To say that Illya was irritated by his partner was probably the understatement of the year. Napoleon looked tired and dirty and wet, but otherwise in good shape, all topped off by that maddening boyish grin.

"Dammit, Napoleon!" Illya exclaimed, putting his gun back in its shoulder holster. "What did you think you were doing, skulking around in the bushes like that? I could have shot you!"

"I had to be sure it was you," Napoleon said with a shrug.

"Who the hell else would it be?"

"Well, we were out here to find a THRUSH satrap, so..."

Illya gave a heavy sigh, allowing that it was a reasonable excuse. He rubbed a hand down his face, wiping away some of the water that had collected and was dripping down from his hair.

"I must have covered more distance than I thought," said Illya, "I take it the plane is close?"

"Oh, ah, no," said Napoleon, "not really. I did get a pretty good look at the direction it went down, though."

"So you weren't still in it when it went down?"

"I said I was going to follow right after you, didn't I?"

Illya's head gave a throb, right where it had impacted with the tree branch yesterday. He gave it a gentle touch with his fingers. "I didn't see your chute," he said, puzzled, "I assumed you had still been inside."

"Yeah, that's a long story," Napoleon said, "and best told over whiskey. You all right, there pal? Looks like you got a good knock to the head."

"I had a disagreement with the trees when I came down," Illya grumbled back, "I don't suppose you have any aspirin with you?"

"Sorry," said Napoleon with a shrug, "but I came down with even less than you."

"Your communicator?"

"Not a spark of life to it," Napoleon said grimly, "just like the plane."

"Mine too," Illya said with a nod, "so, any ideas?"

"Well, I was heading for the plane when I heard you rattling around," he said, "figure it's still our best bet for supplies and shelter. And maybe we can get the radio going and contact UNCLE in Rio." He slipped past Illya in the long gass fronds and began walking. "It's this way, c'mon."

Illya rolled his eyes with a smirk and began trailing after him. Leave it to Napoleon to start acting like he was in charge the moment they were back together. Sure, technically, he outranked Illya, but he was also fond of saying that in the field they were partners, equals. But that didn't stop him from expecting Illya to go along with his decisions. And for the most part, Illya was all right with that. After all, Napoleon knew what he was doing, just the same as him.

They walked on in silence for a while, their feet and the sound of the falling rain the only noise. Illya felt the mud sucking at his shoes as they went as the ground became more and more saturated. Napoleon didn't seem to be having any trouble with it, though. He carried on, walking with his usual poise, as if strutting for a pretty woman on the street.

"One thing still bothers me," Illya said after a while, "if you found me this morning, who was sneaking around my camp last night?"

Napoleon stopped in his tracks and slowly turned back to look at Illya. "Oh," he said with uncertainty, as if making a connection for the first time, "whoops."

"It was you, wasn't it?" Illya asked, sardonically. The only reply he got was his partner chewing on his bottom lip, looking sheepish. "Why didn't you say something?"

"I couldn't see that it was you!" Napoleon shot back. "And then there was a bullet wizzing past my face, so, waiting for daylight so I could find out who I was dealing with seemed the better option at the time."

"And to think I was worried about you," Illya muttered sourly, slipping past Napoleon to continue onward.

"Aww, Illya," Napoleon said with a smirk, following along after Illya, "worried about little ol' me? I'm touched."

Illya gave a harrumph. "In the head, maybe."

"Don't be like that, partner mine," said Napoleon, "I didn't mean to freak you out."

"You didn't freak me out," Illya snapped back.

"The hail of bullets says otherwise."

"It was one!" Illya shouted, turning back to hold up a single finger in Napoleon's face. His partner threw his hands up in surrender at the motion.

"All right," Napoleon said, concilliatory, "all right. Geeze, you're on edge, pal."

Dropping his hand and breathing a deep breath, Illya looked up into the falling rain and let it fall on him for a moment, feeling the throb in his head returning again. "I'm sorry," he said, putting a hand to his head and turning away, "it must be the headache."

"It seems like it's a little more than that," said Napoleon, sounding concerned, "you're not sick, are you?"

"No, I don't think so," Illya said, turning his hand over and feeling his forehead with the back of it, "I am very tired, Napoleon." He leaned against the nearest tree, closing his eyes for a moment.

"You're not giving up are me, are you?" Napoleon asked, leaning against the tree with one hand. Illya gave him a skeptic's stare. "'Cause I didn't hike all this way to find a quitter. We need to get back to that plane, so c'mon. If we stop here for too long, it's likely neither one of us will get moving again."

Gathering what energy he had, Illya pushed himself from the tree and ducked under Napoleon's outstretched arm to continue onward. Napoleon fell into step just behind him.

"And you're sure you're not getting sick?" his partner asked again. "No other injuries I should know about besides the knock on your noggin?"

"Nothing else," said Illya, "I'm fine."

"You're absolutely sure?"

"Napoleon."

"Just checking."

They trudged on for a few moments of silence. "So, just how did you make it out of the plane safely?" Illya asked, finally.

"Oh no," said Napoleon, "the price of that story is whiskey. So if you want to hear it, you'll keep moving."

"Ah," said Illya, "always figured I'd one day be blackmailed by a tyranical capitalist."

"Whatever keeps you moving, dirty commie," Napoleon said with a chuckle.


Neither one of them spoke much for a long time after that. It was just as well, Illya decided, because it was taking all the energy he had to just keep moving. Napoleon kept behind him most of the way, only taking the lead when he thought they were getting a little off-track. Illya wasn't really certain how Napoleon knew they were getting off track. He asked him once, but he got an answer, which, frankly didn't make any sense at all. With how thick the forest was, they were liable to walk six feet away from it and still not see it, so there wasn't much point in arguing. Small adjustments in their direction, either way, wouldn't change their chances much.

The rain continued, at some points coming down even harder than it had. Illya's clothes stuck to him miserably and he had long ago decided that it wasn't worth even trying to keep mud off the backs of the legs.

"Hey, Illya," said Napoleon, out of the blue, "I spy my little eye something beginning with T."

Illya stopped in his tracks and turned back to look at his partner like he was out of his mind. "Really?" he asked, skeptically.

"Just something to pass the time," his partner replied with a shrug, "c'mon, something beginning with T."

Illya gave a sigh. "Trees," he said, turning on his heel and continuing onward.

"Okay, beginner's luck," said Napoleon, "two out of three. I spy with my little eye something beginning with... M."

"More trees," Illya answered flatly, without even hesitating.

"Best three out of five, then," Napoleon continued, "I spy with my little eye something beginning with S."

"Still more trees," Illya answered, not breaking stride.

"Maybe we've been spending too much time together, chum," Napoleon stated after a significant pause.

"Or maybe it's a childishly simple game and there are nothing but trees as far as the eye can see," said Illya, "tell me you spy something beginning with P and I'll be interested."

There was another significant pause and Napoleon cleared his throat.

"Oh, just say it, Napoleon."

"Plants."

"Oh, brother," Illya sighed, "if there is such a thing as karma, I must be paying it off with interest."

With that, Napoleon launched into a long speech extolling the virtues of traveling games. He was beginning to list state capitals based on letters of the alphabet when when something pushed its way into Illya's consciousness. It was just on the edge of his senses. He concentrated on it, hoping to catch it. For a long time, there was only the sight of the green jungle, the rushing sound of the falling rain and Napoleon's chatter, and little else.

The animals had gone quiet again. Even in the rain there had been occasional bird-calls or the scrabbling of tiny claws up in the trees. But now there was nothing.

Illya stopped abruptly, holding up a hand. He was surprised that his partner didn't actually run into it. "Napoleon, be quiet," he said, keeping his voice low.

"Illya, not even you can object to-"

"No, I mean be quiet!"

Napoleon finally got the hint and took up position at Illya's back. They both cast about, looking for anything out of the ordinary.

"I don't hear anything," Napoleon whispered.

"Yes, and isn't that strange?" Illya replied in kind.

"Now that you mention it..."

The crack of a stick off to Illya's right, somewhere right about two o'clock, caused them both to spin around and look in that direction.

"Now that I heard," said Napoleon as Illya reached for his Walther. "Partner mine, I think we might be boxed in."

"THRUSH?"

"Maybe," Napoleon allowed.

"Don't suppose you have your gun?" said Illya.

"Lost it when I came down," Napoleon replied, "make every shot count, okay?"

They stood there for several seconds, listening to movement from a number of directions, Illya ready to shoot and Napoleon ready to pounce at the first clear sign of an enemy. The rain beat down around them, loudly, making it difficult to tell where their pursuers were.

And then Napoleon was in motion, leaping away from Illya's back and making for a patch of movement in a shrub. An instant later, Illya spotted a figure in blue coveralls, toting a signature THRUSH-made rifle, emerge from the foliage. Instantly, he shifted the aim of his own gun that direction and squeezed off a shot. The THRUSHie jinked out of the way and charged forward, making for Napoleon. Illya didn't have time to cover his partner, though, as another emerged, making for him, swinging the butt of his rilfe at Illya's head. Illya dropped and dodged the blow, kicking a leg out and trying to pitch the THRUSHie on to his back. The THRUSHie hopped over it and overshot his target, giving Illya enough time to spin around and try to shoot at him again. But the shot seemed to go astray as the enemy dodged out of the way again.

Napoleon was well and truely engaged, playing a game of fox-and-hound with three men. He landed several punches, only barely managing to fend off the attackers. Illya wasn't able to come to his aid, though, as he found himself beset by three more men himself. He fired off several more shots, but they did little but make the attackers heasitate and scatter a little bit. Soon, Illya's gun clicked without the loud report of gunfire. The attackers closed in and he went on the attack, charging toward one target. A great deal of hopping and dodging went on, on both sides, with very little to show for it. Illya didn't land a punch, but neither did the attackers lay a hand on him.

"Now would be a good time to stop, Mister Kuryakin," a voice called out from the edge of their little clearing. The action paused and Illya looked toward the voice to see a well-dressed THRUSH man in a three-piece suit holding Napoleon in a headlock from behind, pointing a weapon at the UNCLE agent's temple.

Illya straightened up from his defensive posture, giving the man a glare and slowly putting his hands up. The other THRUSHies moved in, surrounding him with their weapons pointed in his direction.

"Drop the gun, please," said the well-dressed man.

"Why not," Illya said, sourly, letting the Special fall from his grasp, "I'm out of ammunition anyway."

"Thank you kindly, Mister Kuryakin," said the man, then he shifted his gaze to one of his nearby henchmen, "keep a weather eye on Mister Solo here." As soon as the THRUSHie had a gun trained on Napoleon, the headlock was released and the well-dressed man tucked his weapon back into the shoulder holster under his jacket.

"Sounds like you have us at more than one disadvantage," Napoleon groused, pursing his lips in a grimace.

"Apologies, gentlemen," said the man, "I would have preferred less commotion. I am Augustus Orfeo, head of security for THRUSH research here in the Amazon. And I'm afraid you've come just a little too close to our facility. I must ask you to come with us, please."

"Well, an invitation like that..." Napoleon carped, trailing off as he and Illya were herded together.

Orfeo gestured onward, directing the group in a direction almost ninety degrees from the direction Illya and Napoleon had been traveling. One THRUSHie led the way, the others falling into step behind Illya and Napoleon, their guns trained on the two agents. Orfeo brought up the rear.

"Fantastic," Illya muttered to Napoleon, "you couldn't just walk quietly, could you?"

"Hey, what about you?" Napoleon tossed back, "I didn't see any of your bullets hit their mark."

Illya didn't really have a response to that. He growled out a frustrated sound at his partner as they trudged along, his head throbbing anew.


The rain continued to pour and the increased activity caused all the wildlife to flee before them. They hiked for about an hour, Illya figured, before any more words were exchanged.

"So, can I ask what's your plan for us?" Napoleon asked, casting a gaze back toward Orfeo.

"Well, it is a research facility," said Orfeo, "I'm certain our scientests could use a couple of new guinea pigs. Plus, we have several ongoing projects on truth extraction going on, so we'll be able to gather a little intel at the same time."

"You have to know we'll never tell you anything," said Illya.

"I wouldn't say that until you know what you're getting into, Mister Kuryakin," said Orfeo, "I did say our methods are experimental, after all."

"Meaning probably deadly," Napoleon put in, sourly.

"Not exactly the best motivation, you know," Illya added.

"We shall see," said Orfeo.

The THRUSH head of security brought them to a halt in a small clearing, the other henchmen surrounding their captives. Orfeo pulled out a radio and twisted a knob. There was a short burst of static, then he spoke into it.

"This is Orfeo," he said, "we have the two UNCLE agents. Open the door, please."

Illya looked at Napoleon in confusion, casting a gaze about the otherwise emply-looking clearing. Napoleon gave a shrug and a small shake of his head.

Orfeo hadn't gotten a response from his radio, the speaker producing nothing but static in response to his greeting. Seemingly confused, he shook it a little and listened closer, then pressed the button to talk again. "THRUSH research base, please respond." Still no response. Orfeo slapped the side of the radio a couple times in frustration.

"You sure you're in the right place?" Napoleon drawled, sarcastically which earned him a glare from Orfeo.

The THRUSH agent continued to shake and smack his radio, trying to get a response. Frustrated, Orfeo began to pace around the perimeter of the clearing, beginning to curse at the radio loudly and creatively, in several languages. Illya recognized French, Italian, German... even a few choice words in Russian. Apparently, the guy got around.

And then, in the middle of Orfeo's blue streak, his body suddenly jerked to the side, falling into the underbrush and disappearing. There was a subtle rustle of leaves and then he was just gone.

The rest of the THRUSH men were instantly on alert, several of them pointing their guns in the direction Orfeo had vanished. Somewhere behind Illya, there was the thump of a body hitting the ground and then a panicked yelp. He turned around just in time to see the top of the henchman's head vanish into the green.

"The hell?" one of the other henchmen said. He was the next to go, falling forward on to his face as his legs were pulled out from beneath him. He, too, was sucked into the woods without a trace.

Panic set in among the THRUSHIES and Illya couldn't blame them. Whatever was taking out their men, it was fast and likely brutal. "Did you see anything?" he asked Napoleon.

"Not a thing," his partner replied, on edge once again.

One by one, several of them shrieking in terror, the THRUSH henchemen were pulled into the woods. Every time, Illya managed just to miss seeing any sort of indication of what was taking them.

"Is this your doing?" the last one asked, pointing his gun at Illya and Napoleon, eyes wide with fear and taking a few steps back from them. He got a little too close to the edge of the clearing and a pair of pale, clawed limbs burst out and grabbed him by the chest. He disappeared into the underbrush with a shriek. A short rattle of branches and he was gone.

Illya and Napoleon moved back-to back again, slowly turning around, trying to keep an eye on all sides of the clearing at once. The only sound was the falling rain.

"Napoleon?" Illya whispered to his partner.

"No idea," he answered in kind.

The bushes to their right exploded into motion, belching forth a pale blur that headed directly for them, driving them apart. Both UNCLE agents backpedaled, trying to get some distance. It was Napoleon that the figure focused on, finally giving Illya a chance to see who their new attacker was.

The figure was man-like, lithe and small, skin impossibly pale. A mantle of dry grass covered his back, falling down from the back edge of a mask, painted in garish colors in frightening tribal patterns that made the figure's face look as though the eyes were bleeding. Tattered furs and leathers made up the rest of the creature's garb. Barefoot, he crouched and sprang like an animal, blithely skipping over the mud as if it was completely solid ground.

Napoleon and the figure jumped and dodged each other, the creature's clawed hands sweeping through the air only an inch from Napoleon's face. Illya moved to assist, but the creature sprang up into the trees above, vanishing just long enough that the UNCLE agents lost sight of him. He came at them again from a completely different angle, tackling Napoleon to the ground. With a stunning agility, the creature fliped in a handspring, landing right at Napoleon's feet. The creature grabbed Napoleon's legs and shot backward into the brush with a rustle. Napoleon gave a startled shout and then was sucked in after it.

"Napoleon!" Illya exclaimed, diving for his partner's outstretched arms as they trailed behind. He landed on his belly in the mud, his hands grasping nothing but air as his partner disappeared into the green.

"Napoleon!" Illya shouted again, picking himself off the ground as quickly as he could.

By the time he had gained his feet, the woods were motionless on all sides. Nothing but the sound of rain greeted his ears in all directions.


NOTES:

See? I told you it was going to pick up. Poor Illya, he can't seem to catch a break, can he? Or land a punch... Hmmm...