Man From UNCLE Breaking those chains

Napoleon Solo was a man guilty of many things, some of which he wasn't proud of and some of which he was.

He had his vices, discreet sometimes misplaced affection, a self-indulgent pride, a potential addictive taste of power... the smell of sweet success. Yet he kept them all in check, especially when it came to that taste of power. It could be very easy for him to let it all go to his head, given the fact he was the top agent in the Command. He was cock of the walk yet he kept it all in perspective, mostly in relation to power.

When it came to the lovely ladies however, he did not. That was an indulgence he'd probably never give up, although all too often it did get him in trouble.

This was one of those times; he woken up finding himself with his wrists tied together and he was suspended on chained hook. A blindfold covered his eyes, but as he raised his chin, he was able to peek out from beneath it just enough. He craned his neck, looking as best he could at his poorly-lit surroundings. Things looked pretty bleak.

Thinking back, he tried to recall his last memory, and that was being in bed and making love to Margaret; gorgeous, sexy Margaret. He hoped she was all right.

From the looks of it he was in a basement of sorts; his nose detecting the musty smell of mildew in the air. A single flight of wooden steps led up to a door and at the top of those stairs was a single low-wattage incandescent bulb illuminating the landing.

No windows within his field of vision, seemingly no other means of escape other than those stairs and that door.

Napoleon heard approaching footsteps...they were sharp, not the muffled footfalls of a man's shoe; no, it was a woman's.

The door opened with a slow creak, but he couldn't make out the face. He could only see a pair of long attractive legs and high heeled pumps, but not the or body they belonged to as she walked too quickly out of the light, moving downwards.

"Napoleon Solo, I finally have you exactly where I want you," she spoke from the shadows.

That voice, it was so familiar…"I'm sorry, do we know each other?" He was genuinely curious, but that only got him a slap across the face.

"You don't remember me? How could that be?" She sounded more than miffed.

It suddenly dawned on him. He finally remembered her voice, that fateful evening in bed at the Excelsior Hotel. *

"Venus Mornay," he whispered, but his voice wasn't low enough for her not to hear.

"So you _do_ remember me? I was very disappointed to hear that you had not met your end that night in Washington dear Napoleon." She slipped the blindfold from his eyes, wrapping the black cloth around his throat, and tightened it until Solo found himself gasping for air.

As his face reddened, and his eyes bulged, she released the cloth; letting the U.N.C.L.E. agent gasp for air.

Not concerned for himself and once he was able to speak, he asked about his bedmate; not missing a beat.

"Where is the woman I was with?"

"Oh Margaret? She's fine...she was paid rather well to seduce you.

I hoped you enjoyed screwing her as she's the last woman with whom you'll ever have carnal knowledge."

Venus produced a wicked looking tool, and as soon as he focused on it, he knew exactly what it was for.

"You wouldn't?" Napoleon asked, letting out an uncontrolled hiss.

"I decided death was too merciful for you. You are a devoted lover of women...a stallion among men when it comes to your sexual prowess. What better way to make you suffer for the rest of your life but by castrating you.

You'll be a eunuch, unable to get it up.

You'll never have a family, even if you live long enough to leave your beloved U.N.C.L.E. You'll be alone in the world, just as you left me.* Not just yet though. I want you to sweat just a little as you ponder the fate I've planned for you Napoleon Solo."

Venus laughed as she walked to the stairs, taking each of them ever so slowly, as if she were moving deliberately that way until she disappeared through the door.

Solo yanked at his chains, knowing he couldn't break them but maybe, just maybe he could pull a move his partner was famous for doing.

He grabbed the chain above his head with his hands, raising his legs in a dead lift, every muscle in his body shaking as he managed to wrap his legs around the rafter and somehow he lifted himself off the hook that had been holding him in place.

Napoleon flipped and dropped to the floor as the effort had momentarily drained him. He vowed if he got out of this alive and intact; he'd head to the gym and get in better shape. How the hell Illya managed these moves with such ease was beyond him, but he supposed the Russian being a good twenty or more pounds lighter than him, and more flexible did help.

He raised himself from the floor, pushing off on his hands and slowly standing up. Looking around, trying to see something with which he could slice through the ropes wound tightly around his wrists; he spotted beneath the steps a wooden crate, and protruding from it was the blade of an old rusty saw.

"Bingo!" He whispered.

He was just about half-way through cutting the thick ropes when he heard the door above him open with that ominous creaking hinge.

Though it would do little good, he quickly ducked beneath the staircase, out of sight as he heard Venus let loose a shrieking wail when she saw he was gone. "I'll kill you Solo!"

The door slammed behind her as she left and Napoleon let go the breath he'd been afraid to exhale; lucky for him she'd assumed he's already escaped. After carefully climbing the steps he hesitated on the landing, taking the time to spit on the hinges in hopes that would be enough to keep them from giving him away as he opened the door.

His little trick worked, and he stepped out into an unexpected environment. The room was decorated in the Victorian style, cluttered with bits and bobs placed carefully around a deep red-velvet display; an ornate look for which he never quite cared.

He heard voices, lots of them, and Venus barking orders to her men. That did it...he was surrounded, with threats no doubt on every side.

Napoleon knew he was outnumbered, and the question was to fight anyway even though he was weaponless; his it his time to die while standing and facing this challenge, or to simply surrender himself to his fate.

He would do it, he decided...to fight that is; snapping his fingers as he remembered he did have a very useful weapon besides his wit.

The American agent stepped out of the parlour, confronting Venus and her ilk in the foyer.

"There you are," she smiled viciously." You're not going to deprive me of my fun. I'll still castrate you, but I've changed my mind... you're going to die after all and I'll send your body with your balls stuffed in your mouth back to that old fool Waverly."

"I don't think so Venus," Napoleon said with a coldness in his voice. He pulled two buttons from the front of his shirt, tossing them at the woman and her lackeys.

Seconds later the buttons exploded, filling the room with a noxious cloud of smoke, allowing Solo to dash past them, the ones still standing that is.

He found the front door to the house and as he exited, he ripped the rest of the buttons from his shirt, tossing them behind back behind him for good measure.

This time the explosion was one Kuryakin would have been proud of; Napoleon thinking it a shame Illya wasn't here to enjoy it.

Within minutes the house erupted into flames, going up like a tinderbox. Venus Mornay and her grand scheme to take him out was over. Surely no one could have survived that inferno.

Solo waited there, seated on the curb as the fire department arrived, and watching as they quenched the flames. The police took his story with a grain of salt but once he convinced them to let him use their radio and after some relaying; Alexander Waverly got involved and that was that.

A clean up team arrived, led by Illya Kuryakin, who also carried a fresh shirt for his partner.

"Venus Mornay again?" The Russian said, " Did you not learn your lesson after the last time she nearly killed you?" *

Napoleon winced at that reminder. "Hey don't jump to conclusions; she used another very sexy woman, I might add, to lure me into her little trap."

Illya shook his head. "Your liaisons will be the death of you someday my friend."

"I hope not, but what a way to go,"Napoleon grinned as he got into the sedan with his partner; leaving the scene to the team to finish their work.

An hour later Solo and Kuryakin sat at the circular table in Mr. Waverly's conference room.

"Gentleman, it appears we have a bit of a dilemma regarding Miss Mornay. The cleanup crew found no female body in the wreckage of the house. Therefore Mr. Solo I must warn you to curb your extracurricular pursuits until she has been located and incarcerated. I won't have my best agent taken out of commission permanently because he couldn't, shall we say, keep it in his pants."

"Yes sir," Napoleon submissively bowed his head, though he was a little taken back at the Old Man's vernacular.

Waverly harumphed, clearing his throat. "Very well, you're dismissed." He waved them off, turning his attention to other matters in front of him.

The partners walked out in the the corridor side by side, matching each other step for step.

"So are you really going to listen to him this time?" Illya asked.

Napoleon grinned. "Well sort of..."

"What exactly does that mean?"

"He did specify extracurricular, so I take that as being outside of headquarters. I think I can safely enjoy the company of the ladies from within U.N.C.L.E. enough to keep me satisfied."

"You satisfied?" Illya looked at him, wide-eyed with an incredulous stare."I hardly think that is possible in your case."

"Why thank you my friend for that compliment."

"It was not meant to be complimentary. I think you will always deal with struggles of the heart...perhaps a prisoner of your own mind and libido.

"Oh gee, when you put it that way," Napoleon hesitated before laughing. "Not a chance partner mine, not a snowballs chance in hell."

Illya simply shook his head as he entered the elevator, hitting the button to take him down to the labs. The last image he had before the doors closed was that of his grinning partner.

There was just no hope for Napoleon Solo...whether he knew it or not, he was still bound by his chains.

.

ref * Nearly Dead in Bed.


End file.
