Word count: 476
Prompt 1, Car
Napoleon’s rescue in upper state New York was a success and Illya helped his beaten partner into the car.
“You okay?” He asked Napoleon who was holding his abdomen.
“They used my stomach as a punching bag but otherwise not too bad.”
“The information? “
“Still safe in my back tooth, let’s go.”
Illya began to pull out then noticed the three cars on his tail. Bullets hit the ground around them, yet nothing hit the car yet.
“Sorry about the stomach, but you better belt up. We have company. They must want you back alive. Their bullets aren’t hitting the car.”
As Illya zigzag the car, Napoleon took the gun Illya offered to him and managed to blow out the tire of the first car at the break neck speed they were traveling at causing it to flip over.
A large rumble from a rocket shot before their car had a sudden fissure in the road opened up. Illya managed to speed up and jump over it landing on the other side as gently as a baby being laid down to sleep. The last car didn’t make it and landed with it front end buried in the hole.
The last car continued to chase them as they entered a winding road surrounded on both sides by thick pinus pines. Without slowing down, Illya managed twist the car enough to make it through the trees but the sound of an explosion behind them said Thrush didn’t.
They entered a small village as the Russian brought the car to a stop before the general store. He got out of the car and walked around it grinning.
Looking over at his green faced partner, he said surprisingly. “It is okay?”
“I’m glad you managed not to destroy another car, but between your driving and the beating, my stomach is ready to erupt.”
“But the car, there is nothing wrong with it!” The Russian said excited.
“Yes it’s in one piece.”
“Not a scratch on it, da?”
Before Napoleon could answer, they heard a crack from above before the store sign fell crashing into the car’s hood.
“It is not fair,” Illya cried out shocked. “Not fair!”
Napoleon couldn’t help it. The stricken look on his partner’s face had him roaring with laughter.
“I’ll let you call for pick up and explaining to Waverly why we need a new car,” Napoleon managed to say through the laughter.
The scathing look on Illya face had the American grabbing the Russian’s gun from the seat of the destroyed car and moving away with his partner. He knew teasing a upset Russian wasn’t nice and he’d pay for it, but couldn’t help laughing.
Anyone from town looking out their window soon saw two men running down the center of main street, a blond speaking in an unknown language chasing a laughing brunette.