"The Little Diomede Affair"~Chapter 7 for PicFic Tuesday July 21st

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Links to:
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Part 2-Chapter 2, Chapter 3 Chapter 4, Chapter 5,   Chapter 6


The prompt:

Illya woke up with a pounding headache. That seemed to be a natural state of being with him when it came to doing his job. He was seated in a chair with his hands bound behind his back, something else to which he was sadly well accustomed.

“Nu privet g-n Dezhnev, (Well hello Mr. Dezhnev) If that is indeed your name,” He was greeted in Russian by none other than Viktor Popsuy.

‘Da, i kto vy ?” (Yes, and who are you?) Illya played dumb.

Popsuy laughed aloud. “No the question is who are you? I know you’re from UNCLE.” He held up Illya’s communicator pen.

“Whose Uncle, your’s? How would I know him? I do not know you either.”

“Don’t be coy with me. You know what I mean, don’t you?

“No I do not? Is there some sort of union with whom I can file a grievance? The working conditions here are terrible.”

That earned Illya a slap in the face.

Popsuy sneered, flashing his white and somewhat jagged looking teeth. Once doing that, his innocuous face transformed, making him resemble a feral beast.

“I am of two minds, a contrarian perhaps, as I abhor violence yet I find it a necessary means to an end.”

“That is not what I have heard. You seem to have left a trail of bodies in your wake in your rise to power. Power is fleeting, I warn you. You will fail in the end.”

Popsuy howled with laughter.

“You are a bold little fellow even when you might be facing your own death, but we will see about that. I guarantee you will be begging me to end your insignificant life before long. However, I can be merciful. Tell me the truth and I will set you free and kill you quickly. Who are you and what do you know about this place?”

Illya shook his head, deciding to shut up for once. He had a bad habit of mouthing off to his captors and only irritating them. Doing that to a man like Popsuy was not a good idea though it really was already too late.

Viktor grabbed him by the hair, wrenching the blond head to the side before making a fist and pounding Illya’s face again and again. Kuryakin’s lip split, oozing blood into his mouth and down his chin.

The Thrushman continued to hit him repeatedly, finally slamming the agent’s head back against a four by four behind him, leaving a bloody mark on the wood and knocking Illya out cold.

When Kuryakin opened his eyes again, he was alone and in a massive amount of pain. This one he might not be able to get out of so easily, and it called for some sort of drastic measure.

Besides his head, his jaw was aching and he could feel with his tongue that a back molar had been damaged during the beating. It was only a temporary crown and what was hidden beneath the tooth was something that would help him greatly, until the cavalry would arrive...he hoped.

Once his not reporting to Waverly had passed the twenty-four hour mark it would be necessary to send a backup team. He had to stay alive until then, but if he died then he would do so without giving away his mission.

After poking around with his tongue he moved the crown enough to find what he was looking for, that little blue pill known as capsule B. He’d placed there as his communicator where it was usually hidden had been modified to include the new camera, so there just wasn’t room for it.

In this case it was a boon since the pill was hidden beneath the the crown. Once swallowing it his memory would be wiped for seventy-two hours, though his skills would not. Those were automatic to a trained agent, and wouldn’t require remembering them. All relative he supposed, if he didn’t get the chance to escape.

Illya swallowed the pill, breathing deeply as he waited for it to take effect.

The dimly lit room began to spin a little, his vision blurred as the nausea set in, and then there was nothing.

He must have dozed off and footsteps approaching, echoing on the stone floor woke him.

“So are you ready to answer my questions?” A rather ordinary looking dark haired man asked him.

“I am afraid I have forgotten them? Why am I tied up?”

“I will repeat them for you only once. Who are you and what does UNCLE know about this operation?”

“Uncle? Whose Uncle? Why am I tied up? Please let me loose? I am in a lot of pain.”

The man slapped him in the face, cursing at him.

“Ow! Please do not hurt me. I will tell you whatever you want to hear.” Illya practically begged.

“Who are you?”

Kuryakin stammered as he thought hard.

”I...I do not know? Do you not know who I am?”

“The name you gave us was Nicholaí Dezhnev.”

“It is? I mean that is my name? I cannot remember. Who are you?”

Popsuy roared his frustration. “Take him away. Put him in with the others,” he ordered a guard. He is of no use to me like this. I want the name of the guard who searched this man as he obviously missed a drug these agents take.”

“Please where am I. Why are you doing this to me?” Illya begged as he was dragged out.

He reacted on pure instinct, pulling away from the guard and kneeing him in the stomach. Illya took off down the tunnel, his hands still bound behind him. He ran into what looked like some sort of lab and there he fell hard to the ground as someone had hit him from behind.

Everything was spinning again as he was dragged off by two guards now, taken to a smaller barred cave and there he was dumped inside.

Illya laid there in the dimly lit cave. There were bars across the open as he surveyed his surroundings, until he realized he wasn’t alone.

He could see several pairs of feet, attached to legs as men were seated on the floor of the cave, leaning their backs against the wall. He couldn’t see their faces.

One of them moaned.

“Who are you?” He seemed to be using the word ‘who’ a lot.

He got to his knees, moving closer to them. “Could you please untie my hands?” When he got a closer look, seeing their faces...he gasped, falling backwards to the floor.

They looked like skeletons, with their face drawn. Their lips were drawn back in a permanent sneer and there were dark circles under their eyes. If it hadn’t been for the moan, he would have thought all of them were dead.

Images suddenly flashed into his head...people in striped pajamas, all of them looking walking dead. There were naked corpses, just skin and bones in pits. It was horrifying and Illya suddenly felt very small and afraid.  Still his fear didn’t deter him for asking questions.

“What is wrong with you?” He demanded.

One of the men stirred, speaking Russian.

“We’re starving to death. You got food?”

“Food?” Illya repeated in confusion.”No I do not.”

“What good are you then.” The man speaking drew himself inwards, huddling up in a ball.

Another question Illya couldn’t answer, how could he? He didn’t even know his own name.

“Don’t let him bother you, he’s cranky all the time.”

“Shut up Reuben!” The first man barked.

“May I ask you another question?”

“Go ahead,” Reuben answered.

“I do not know my name or where we are...do you know?”

“Sorry bud, I don’t know you but as to where we are? We’re in hell waiting to die.”

That was a cryptic answer, but Illya wouldn’t accept it. “I meant what place is this? Where is it located?”

“Not that it means anything anymore, but we’re off the coast of Alaska on the island of Little Diomede.”

“No we’re not Reuben, we’re underneath it.”

“Yeah Marty, you’re right on that one,” he chuckled. “Comeer kid, I’ll untie you for all the good it’ll do.”

Illya scooched himself over, turning his back to the man as he felt thin fingers fumble with the ropes.

“So what happened to you Mister?” Reuben asked.”Looks like they did a number on your face. Did you ask more of your questions to the wrong people?”

“I do not know.” Illya mumbled, “ I cannot even remember…”

“Yeah yeah,” Marty droned.” You don’t know your name, so what. Doesn’t matter ‘cause you’re a dead man. We’re all dead men here.”

“Why?”

“Because you bolvan, like you’re doing now... we asked too many questions. We were too nosy. Now shut up will ya’, all this talk is making me tired.”

“What found you here in the first place?”Illya asked, trying to make some conversation.

“I was hired to work as an engineer. I was supposed to figure out how to dig in the permafrost, and I took care of the machinery too,” Ruben said.” Marty here was a carpenter, built pretty much everything here made of wood himself.”

“For all the good it’s done us. We’re going to die down here,” Marty repeated himself.

“Well I for one plan to get out of here, and I will help you escape as well,” Illya announced to them.

“You don’t even know who you are? Guess they hit you pretty hard. Well you deserve to have a name so when the spirits come to guide you to your rest, they’ll know who you are. So I Reuben Romanovich Vorontsov here by declare your name to be...umm, Illya Muromets,” he chuckled at his cleverness.” You’ll be our hero if you can get us out of here.” Voronstov figured humoring the poor guy couldn’t hurt.

“Illya Muromets?” Kuryakin repeated. He knew that name and the story behind it and it was not the first time he’d been called that...Illya.”

“Thank you,” he tried to smile, but it hurt. He stood up, walking about their prison, examining every nook and cranny. Illya studied the bars and the lock and suddenly his hand went to his mouth and he found himself feeling around his unbroken molar for something, but for what? His fingers found nothing. Why did he do that?”

He sat down on the cold floor, feeling perplexed.

“Ah so the hero has given up already?”Marty jabbed.

“So who is the other fellow among you? He does not say much.” Illya asked yet another question, noting the man hadn’t said a word.

“That’s Bobby Tingenek. Used to call him Bobby Bare Ice, but not anymore.”

“Why?” Illya was getting tired of asking questions but something drove him to it. He was curious by nature...how did he know that when he didn’t even know who he was?

“Because he’s dead,” Marty snickered. “We’re all gonna be dead, you’re not getting out of here buddy unless it’s in a body bag, that is if they even give us that courtesy. So far they haven’t done it for Bobby.”

What was this mad house in which he was trapped?” Illya grabbed his head, rubbing his temples as they throbbed.

There was a loud bang on the cell bars. “Hey you, blondie. Get back away from the door.”

Illya heard a rifle being cocked. How he knew that sound, he had no idea, but at the moment that didn’t matter as he scuttled to the back of the cave. A bout of nausea hit him as he did so, making his stomach churn.

“Okay piggies, feeding time!” A man entered the cell, carrying with him three wooden bowls filled with what looked like oatmeal mush. The portions were surprisingly large.

“Maybe they were going to have mercy on these men and feed them more...whoever ‘they’ were,” Illya wondered to himself.

Once the cell door was shut, the men grabbed their bowls and began scooping up the food with their hands, voraciously feeding themselves.

Something told Kuryakin not to eat his, and given how his stomach felt at the moment, he couldn’t eat even if he wanted to for it most likely would come back up. Illya felt as though he should know something about that; something, a memory was trying to make itself known.  Suddenly images of a notebook flashed in his head, formulas...but to what? He didn’t understand what it meant but he knew he was supposed to know.

“You gonna eat that Illya?” Reuben asked, nearly finished with his food.

“No.’

The man grabbed the bowl, hesitating for a moment before giving half of it to the dark-haired Marty.

There was no way to tell how much time had passed, and Kuryakin tried  to count the hours until each meal arrived. Still he refused to eat.

“You’re going to starve faster that we are at the rate you’re going,” Voronstov warned. “Here, eat something won’t you?”

“No thank you.” It seemed to Kuryakin that something was wrong. These men were being given large portions of food, yet they were wasting away. He felt somehow that he knew they answer why, but it just wouldn’t reveal itself to him.

His internal clock along with the feeding schedule. his hunger and his beard growth told him it had to have been down at least two days..

There was no means of escape he could find, and jumping the guards at feeding time seemed a court of last resort. He could do it, though he had no idea how, but he just knew. There’d be no help from Marty or Reuben as they were simply too weak.

If he did not succeed in his escape attempt than this would be his ‘Waterloo’. Waterloo, Waterloo... Napoleon?”

The name flashed into Illya’s head, giving him a momentary image of a handsome dark-haired man with a slight cleft in his chin. Now who the hell was this fellow? Was his name Napoleon?”

Suddenly a number popped into his head...72.

“No it could not have been seventy-two hours that had past already.?Still the number held some sort of significance, but what  it meant Illya had no idea. He just knew it was important...

CHAPTER 8

Comments

[irisheitie.livejournal.com]

Nice touch with the mention of the folk hero Ilya muromets! And I just can't take any more suspense!!!

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thank you! The action is going to start to kicked in, with lots more excitement to come as well as a very very unexpected turn. :D

[rhys-whittaker.livejournal.com]

Great cliffhanger there at the end for several reasons.

When Victor started hitting Illya I thought, "No! Not the face!"

Well-described bit of whump there, though.

Again love the images you add to thee chapters.

And a lot of intriguing characters. Also impressed by your research for this story as that really brings it to life, too, along with the photos.

This is a really intriguing tale with building suspense which is keeping me wondering (and worrying) what will happen next!

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Wowza! Great comments! Thank you! Lots more intrigue, action and twists to come. Thank you on the comment about the research, as it's something I love doing.

[rhys-whittaker.livejournal.com]

(I'm still grinning...and fanning myself, lol)

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

He heeee...don't go getting all farklempt now. "D

[lindafishes8.livejournal.com]

Where's the cavalry when you need them? I love a confused and abused certain blond agent and he is certainly both.

You keep us on the edge of our seats. Not for too much longer, I hope.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Wow you're up late! The cavalry is on the way....remember this chapter was what happened to Illya before Napoleon and Pete got to the island, so there's some time shifting going on. Just remember to buckle your seat belt and hand onto your seat 'cause things are going to get a little rough...matey.

Thanks for catching up and commenting.

Me, now I'm still trying to fall asleep.

[jantojones.livejournal.com]

That's a dodgy place to store a capsule B, lol. I love how Illya's natural suspicious nature remained in tact. Looking forward to the next part.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Better he put capsule B there than the traditional cyanide pill, often hidden in a false tooth. Thanks for catching up on the story. More mystery, angst, intrigue and twists to come.

Thanks for catching up and hope your visit with your sister went well.

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

I lost track of this for a few days. Nice little Illya interlude while Napoleon and his new partner do the searching. I'm glad he didn't get more damaged than he is.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thank you! Minimal angst in this one, but plenty of mystery. :D