The Number 11 AffairThis is a featured page

Written By: Solo's Girl

The Number 11 Affair - Soloholics

U.N.C.L.E. Headquarters, New York City.

The United Network Command for Law and Enforcement. An International organization dedicated to keeping peace in the world. Agents from every nation united together in a common cause. Working diligently side by side to wipe-out the subversive entities that threaten the tranquility of the world.

Agents of the organization are often scouted out based on their educations, military service and a few have even been introduced thru pure chance meetings. But all have one thing in common, their training.

Each agent, male or the few female, have to endure the trials of U.N.C.L.E.’s Survival School. A harsh training grounds for the perils that will await them in their chosen fields. Fifty would-be agents may enter the school but often only as few as ten will make it through the grueling six month course to qualify as field agents. The classes are as realistic as possible and many agents earn their first "battle scars" at the hands of fellow U.N.C.L.E. instructors.

But the hardships, trials and tribulations of the Survival School are nothing compared to the psychological training they must endure afterward. It is that period of their training to which the ritual of hazing seems almost tame by comparison.

Before an agent is permanently assigned, he is taken to a branch on a trial bases to see if he is a good fit for that branch. Here the local instructors put them through their paces in physical arts, marksmanship and so forth. They are paired with other seasoned agents, to see how well they work, following orders, completing paperwork, and their general attitudes towards being the secondary man of the team.

The first agonizing week they must face at the hands of the strictest and most cunning of all U.N.C.L.E. instructors.

Alexander Waverly.

Once an agent with the highly respected MI5, Waverly had been among the first agents to champion the formation of U.N.C.L.E. from the prestigious organization. They would be a larger more global group, and when it was finally sanctioned, he and his partner, Bill Del Floria, proved themselves the type of agents U.N.C.L.E. needed and strove for.

In a few short years, Waverly moved to the newly formed New York branch as operations Chief and after establishing himself the superior branch leader, rose to the level of U.N.C.L.E.’s top Chief in charge of global operations.

Six. The young recruits stood in the reception area for their instructor and CEA to meet them. Two days out of Survival School a few still bore the bruises of their challenges.

But only one wore them as medals of Honor.

The other five looked tired none the worse for wear, number six stood firm and proud. They watched almost hungrily as other already seasoned agents walked in and received their yellow identification badges. They wondered when they would be tagged as official agents. Number six watched the young receptionist as she casually placed her thumb on what looked like a clear ink pad before taking the badge and hooking it herself to each man’s jacket. Even with several of them standing there it was the same ritual. Thumb on the pad, then in the center of the badge as she hooked it to their jacket. The other men passed thru the door and once again the six found themselves alone with the young woman.

Number six smiled.

"If I may ask," he said to the girl.

"Yes..What can I do for you?"

"What is the reason for the clear gel? To cover your finger prints from the badges?"

She smiled and looked at the video monitor on her desk. The face looking back smiled at the young man’s astute observation. But he waved his hand, a gesture for her not to divulge the information.

"I’m sorry Agent Solo," she said, "Until all new recruits are through their final clearance some things are classified."

He smiled and nodded.

"Understood," he acknowledged with a slight wink.

Their temporarily assigned partners came out to retrieve the six recruits. The receptionist opened a small compartment on the side of the badge tray and removed six silver identification badges. The same ritual applied as she badged each new recruit. Solo saw her smile as she pinned on his badge. He looked down at it.

"Number 9," he said with a sly grin.

"No Agent Solo, number 6," she said trying to suppress a giggle.

Solo looked taken back and looked down at the badge once more.

"Are you sure?...Looks like a 9 to me," he said as he turned his lapel, "Oh, you’re right…My mistake."

As Napoleon let the lapel and badge go, his finger slowly slipped over the badge wiping the gel clean. Dobson, his temporary partner made a slight laugh. He was going to enjoy working with this guy he could tell already.

The two men walked into the next hallway. Napoleon felt a surge of energy shoot thru him as they started into the main hallway. They had only made it few feet when a loud siren went off. The new recruits were shoved hard against the wall and told to lie on the floor. Being new they were as yet unarmed.

"What’s going on?" Solo asked his partner.

He could see agent’s armed and ready scour the hallway. Everything seemed clear. The stand down was made and the recruits were pulled from the floor. Each agent checked his new partner. Dobson looked at Solo and then took a close look at his badge.

He smiled.

Giving Solo a firm but friendly push the two returned to the reception area. The girl was startled by their appearance.

"Miss Christopher will you check Agent Solo’s badge please," he said, "And his hands as well."

The woman took a small infrared wand from her control center and swiped it over the badge. Clean. She took Napoleon’s hands and swiped them next. Trace amounts of the clear gel glowed on his fingertips. She removed the badge and once more coated the center with the gel.

"You couldn’t tell me what it was for," Solo whispered as she hooked it back on his jacket.

Waverly sat in his office watching his video monitor. He shook his head and made a few mental notes on the new man.

Dobson and Solo went back down the now quiet hallway into the older agent’s office. Napoleon was careful to observe everything from the various panel doors to the overhead lighting. Once the door was closed they both had a good laugh.

"I saw your dossier Solo," Dobson said, "Now I can honestly say I believe every word of it. You impressed quite a few people at Survival School and I have feeling you’re going to do the same here. But just one thing…remember, there is a difference between inquisitiveness and being just plain cocky. U.N.C.L.E. agents have to learn quickly the line between have-to-know and need-to-know is very fine." He smiled.

"Yes, sir," Napoleon said shaking his head.

"Now, let’ test your deductive powers. After what just happened, tell me what is the purpose of the gel?"

Napoleon thought.

"The obvious answer is a security precaution. I noticed the strange angle of the overhead lights as we were coming down the hall. I believe the lights act as a reflector or reader of the gel. Badges that have not been gelled at the desk will trigger a security breach. Is that it sir?"

Dobson stared at the other man for a moment. He reached up and pushed his own chin back up.

"That was amazing, agent Solo," he said shaking his head, "And exactly right.

The two men sat and talked. Then they went to the canteen for a cup of coffee. Napoleon picked up a small plate with a Danish on it and walked over the table. He sat down with Dobson.

"Better soak that thing with your coffee," Dobson said smiling, "Otherwise you’ll be down in medical this afternoon either with a severe stomach ache or being fit for new teeth."

Napoleon picked up the rock hard pastry. He looked at it.

"I would say either a door stop," he said, "Or there’s an elephant at the Central Park Zoo missing a filling."

He gave it a light tap on the corner of the table and it sounded like a round of gunfire. Everyone turned and looked at him. Dobson lifted his coffee cup to take a sip.

"You break the table you bought it," he said.

Two of the other new men were seated at a table nearby. They looked at their badges. One cleared his throat.

"Hey Solo, what number did you get?" the new agent asked.

Solo gave them a sly glance and looked down at the badge.


"Six," several others around shouted. Then everyone laughed.

"Six, nine what difference does it make," he said with a smile.

One of the shapely young women walked up and seductively brushed against him. He looked up and watched her push her thick Auburn hair back leaning slightly down to his ear.

"Actually Agent Solo," she whispered, "Sixty-nine is my favorite number."

Solo’s face blushed and he swallowed the knot in his throat.

Dobson looked at the agents red face as he saw the woman walk away.

After the break, it was down to the firing range. Dobson watched impressed as Solo quickly and with the utmost precision assembled his carbine. The agent drew the weapon immediately and fired off his first five rounds, hitting the target squarely on site. He disassembled the weapon.

Dobson handed him a shoulder holster. Napoleon slipped off his jacket and slipped the leather holster on, adjusting it to his body. He placed the slender .38 in the leather cradle and gave it a pat.

"Remember Napoleon, only five rounds per command," the Agent said.

Napoleon stood relaxed, waiting for the first command.

"THRUSH Op.."Dobson shouted.

Before he had even finished the word THRUSH, Napoleon had the weapon drawn and fired his shots. Two shots through the chest, two through the head and one thru the opponent’s wrist to disarm. Dobson let out a slow impressed whistle.

"Napoleon," he said a bit uneasily.

Napoleon looked at him then back at the gun. He was still holding it, finger on the trigger but he was unconsciously tapping it against his chin. He smiled and re-holstered the gun.

The rest of the hour was spent at the firing range. Out of Napoleon’s one-hundred shots fire only one failed to hit its intended area. A near perfect score. Even Dobson wasn’t that good. They were starting to leave the range when another shooter began his work on the target.

The two men stopped in the shadows and watched as the relentless firing tore the target into confetti.

"Great shot," Solo whispered.

"Best around," Dobson said giving Napoleon’s arm a tug.

They walked out. Mr. Waverly picked up the tiny microphone.

"Reset the target, please," he said, "I want to try it with the scope this time."

Dobson and Solo headed down to the gym. A few hours of sparing then they hit the showers. Napoleon thanked him for all his help and encouragement.

The next day, Solo received his silver badge number six at reception and followed Dobson back towards the office. But his partner waved him into the elevator.

"Security is doing some work in our office, so we will be using one of the auxiliary offices for the next two days," Dobson said.

They went to the new office. Cold, dull and musty. Napoleon shrugged his shoulders. At least it was only for a few days. The two men sat down and began to do paperwork. Napoleon hated paperwork but knew it was as much a part of the job as everything else.

"How about grabbing us some coffee?" Dobson asked after about an hour.

Solo stretched his arms over his head and gave his shoulders a twist.

"I was just thinking about that. Yours, crème, one sugar right?" Solo said standing up.

"That’s it," Dobson replied, "Thanks…Naps." He added with a smile.

Napoleon smiled and headed for the canteen. Coffee in hand he headed back to the office. As he stepped back out of the elevator though, he got a strange feeling in the back of his neck. The young recruit made his way cautiously up the hallway. He sat the cups down as he came closer to the bend in the wall.

He could hear a strange sound. Something like a snake hissing. He took a deep breath and felt his lungs burn. Just as he started around the corner the entire door of the office blew out. Smoke and flames shot across the hallway. He threw open the security panel in the wall and pulled the alarm. Lights, sirens began to fill the air.

He grabbed the handkerchief from his pocket. Grabbing one of the cups he soaked the cloth and covered his mouth and nose with it. He grabbed the other cup and poured it onto his pants and shirt. It was hot but more importantly it was wet.

Napoleon could hear Dobson calling for help. He pushed thru the debris and flames to see the other agent pinned under the desk. Solo felt the burn as the flames licked at his shirt and trousers. He found the other agent and swinging him over his shoulders made his way out of the room.

The sounds of approaching feet meant that fire and rescue where just around the corner. The sprinkler systems inside the room had kicked on and the flames were dying down. Napoleon was having a hard time staying upright, with Dobson on his shoulders and the water in the floor.

Napoleon lowered his partner, leaning him against the wall. A low rumble was followed by a loud blast as another explosion rocked the hallway. Napoleon was thrown into the wall and collapsed in a heap into the floor.

"What happened?" a distant voice said, "There was not supposed to be that large of an explosion." .

"I don’t know, Sir…I was at the desk, there was a strange hissing sound and then bang…How is Napoleon?"

"We found a leak in the gas line sir," another voice piped in, "Closed and secured. Since these offices aren’t used that often they must have been overlooked at last inspection. I’ll have them all checked now."

"I know this was his psyc trial by fire," Dobson said coughing, "But we weren't supposed to literally get singed."

The doctor and nurse were trying to get Solo propped up against the wall. His clothes were singed, and his eyes swollen and red from the smoke and heat. He swayed and his head limped forward against the strong shoulder of Nurse Flemingloss. She gently stroked the side of his face then sat him back upright.

Napoleon’s swollen eyes opened slightly. He saw her smile.

"Do you know your name?" she asked slowly.

A mischievous grin crossed his lips.

"I’d rather know yours," he said the words slurred as his head fell forward once more.

Another figure walked over and knelt down next to them.

"Let’s try something else," another voice said, "What is your identification number?"

Napoleon looked down at his tattered shirt, the silver badge slightly warped from the heat.

"Number nine, sir," he said as he fell forward once again, the badge twisting around, "I mean number six…"

And he was out.

Mr. Waverly looked at the new man. Then he heard Dobson laugh. The U.N.C.L.E. Chief looked at his agents and smiled. He shook his head and laughed quietly to himself.

* * * * * * * * *

Mr. Waverly looked at the six files. He pushed two towards the head of Security. Chief Barker picked the files up and looked at the notes inside. They would make great security officers, but not quite up to agent status. Another went to the head of Communications. The CEA of section two took the remaining files. He looked at the three current agents who had worked closely with the recruits.

"These two are fine," the CEA said, "But I’m concerned about Napoleon Solo."

"No need to be, sir. He’ll be a hell of an agent," Dobson said, "That is if we can just teach him to read his id badge correctly."

He looked at Waverly. The UNCLE Chief held his fist to his lips trying desperately to suppress his smile.

Finally, Napoleon was out of medical, cleared to take his place as a fully fledged U.N.C.L.E. agent. He had met and exceeded all the requirements for his position. He had managed to impress his boss, Mr. Waverly and been given his official agent designation as section 2 number 5. Rather a high ranking. Not bad for a "newbie". Now all that was left was the new identification badge.

Today he would receive the coveted yellow agent badge.

Napoleon walked thru the doorway of the main entrance which was currently under construction. Into the small room at the back he turned the triggering device and the door yawned slowly open. He adjusted his tie and jacket and walked up to the desk.

"Good morning, Miss Christopher," he said smiling.

"Good morning Agent Solo," she replied.

She was about to take a badge from the holder when the door opened.

To both of their surprise, Mr. Waverly walked into reception and handed something to the girl. He looked at the agent who had snapped to almost ridged attention.

"Stand down, Agent Solo," Waverly said allowing a slight smile to cross his normally serious face, "Miss Christopher, this will be Agent Solo’s permanent Identification number. See that it is properly logged in your file as this is a new number…..Agent Solo there is a new Agent staff meeting in my office in twenty minutes." He extended his hand to the young agent. "And welcome to U.N.C.L.E. Agent Solo."

"Yes sir, thank you…And good morning Mr. Waverly," he said his voice firm but still a bit nervous.

The Chief nodded, turned and walked back towards his office.

The young receptionist looked at the badge. A wide smile crossed her face and Napoleon heard her laugh quietly as she gelled the center. She looked at him as she pinned it to his jacket.

"You should be honored, Agent Solo," she said, straightening his lapel, "Mr. Waverly has never taken a personal interest in badge assignment. I guess he wanted you to always get yours right."

Napoleon’s mouth twisted in a slightly confused grin. Always get it right? What did she mean? He looked down at his new agent badge. A wide smile crossed his face.

"Who said Mr. Waverly doesn’t have a sense of humor.." he said laughing.

Napoleon looked down once more at the bright yellow triangular badge.

With the number 11.

Latest page update: made by SoloSista , Oct 13 2011, 9:50 AM EDT (about this update About This Update SoloSista Edited by SoloSista

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soloforever I loved it! 0 Oct 7 2011, 9:39 PM EDT by soloforever
Thread started: Oct 7 2011, 9:39 PM EDT  Watch
Ah,that.'s why he got "11". Very cleverly done. I couldn't stop laughing at the line "I'd rather know yours."
Everything is Very Napoleon. I enjoyed it very much. Thank you for sharing it.
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