|
Round
Robin: Hobson's Choice Affair |
It was a cool clear night and Napoleon Solo was standing, leaning
on the balcony of an apartment overlooking Central Park. Inside the joviality
of a party could be heard. Napoleon pensively sipped his cocktail and watched
the city lights as the traffic moved along over the bridge.
It was not that he was lonely precisely. After all he could have had any woman
in the room he desired. Even the married ones. One of the most attractive
models in New York left his side only a moment ago, and not
because she wished to. He asked her to go.
He needed to be alone for a while. No that wasn't it. But he needed something.
If only he could figure out what. It was not as if he did not have the money
or contacts to obtain it. What ever it was. Something was
missing. Something that would give him a sense of fulfilment.
'Face it, Napoleon old boy, you're bored.' He thought to himself.
As a wealthy American playboy there was nothing he could not have and little
he had not tried. Life no longer seemed to have that 'je ne sais quois'.
As he stood watching the city and swirling his drink some movement in the
park caught his eye. A flash of color under one of the path lamps. Looking
downward Napoleon made out the signs and movement of some sort of brawl. At
first it looked like 6 men fighting but then as they moved into the light
he could see that 5 of them were actually beating upon one man.
Napoleon realized that he was too far away to be able to get there in time
to even the odds, and they were unlikely to be able to hear if he shouted.
So picking up a nearby potted plant, Napoleon took careful aim and heaved
it with all his might. Not waiting to see the success of his ploy Napoleon
dove back into the room behind him, through the party and out the door into
the hall. An elderly couple appeared to be waiting for the lift and Napoleon
decided that the stairs would probably be quicker.
On a path in Central Park Illya put away his communicator and waited impatiently.
His contact, agent Grosvenor from section 3 was late. He wondered what the
man had to tell him that could not be said in the office. Suddenly he heard
a noise.
Pulling his gun and spinning into a crouch, Illya hit the pavement hard, tackled
from out of the bushes. His gun spun out of his hand before he could take
aim and fire. The battle was on. A single attacker would cause
Illya no trouble at all. Two, even three attackers could have been easily
dealt with. But when it came to five, well, Illya was seriously outweighed
and out -numbered. If it was not for the loud crashing noise of a potted
plant landing nearby startling the attackers and causing them to look upwards
from whence it came, Illya probably would have been killed. As it was he was
seriously bruised and damaged.
The attackers fled, planting one last hard boot in Illya's ribs as he lay
there barely conscious in the lamp light.
Napoleon ran panting to the scene of the assault, out of breath from the long
run down the steps. Being too out of breath, and as he later scolded himself,
too cautious, he made no attempt to chase down the attackers.
Instead he turned towards the victim. The sight of the pale blonde hair gleaming
in the soft glow of the lamps, the delicate features and slim body of the
victim made him take a deep breath. He told himself he couldn't catch his
breath because he had run so many flights of stairs.
|
This page is an unofficial site that exists only for the fun of it. All characters and situations from the television show "The Man from U.N.C.L.E." are property of Norman Felton and Warner Bros. Nothing ill is intended by this use of any television characters in these amateur efforts. Any fiction linked to these pages is the intellectual property of the amateur author who created it and is not presented here for profit. |