![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
mrua7.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
section7mfuWhen Illya Kuryakin transferred to UNCLE headquarters in New York from London he tried to keep a low profile. He’d been welcomed again by Alexander Waverly, though it was only the second time he’d met the man.
The first was when he was summoned from his GRU assignment in London to a meeting in Moscow, for what Illya presumed was to be a disciplinary measure.
He met with Colonel-General Korabelnikov Vladimirovich, the Chief of the Main Intelligence Directorate. He half expected to be sent to a gulag, though for what Illya had no idea.
At that meeting he was asked if he’d ever heard of the U.N.C.L.E. There was questioning as to what he thought it was and finally Illya was told he was being given the opportunity to become the Soviet representative to that organization. After some discussion he was introduced to Alexander Waverly who spoke in depth with him, leaning back against the desk, resting his hands behind him on its surface.
“So young man, your superior has explained the proposal to you?”
“Yes Sir.”
“And what do you think of such an offer? Waverly asked, sucking on the mouthpiece of his pipe.
Illya kept silent for a moment, unsure if it was wise to speak his mind to this man.
“Sir, you are not familiar, I think, with the way things are done in GRU. There is no offer. I have no say in this, as I must do what is expected of me or suffer the consequences. I am being told I must give up my country and go with your organization. I feel as though I am being offered up to you as a sacrificial lamb. If I go I think I will die, if I stay I know I will die; I am sure Chief of Directorate Vladimirovich knows this as well.”
“You have a fatalistic outlook for someone so young Mr. Kuryakin. This is an opportunity to live young man, not to die. The GRU has one simple rule as I recall, ‘in-one ruble, exit-two rubles’, meaning that to join the organization is easy, but to come out is much more difficult. You are being given the opportunity for an easy exit.”
Illya bit his lower lip as he thought, and absentmindedly. ran his fingers through his hair.
“The position you will hold with U.N.C.L.E will however, not be an easy one. You will be a Section II field agent, operations and enforcement. There will be dangers, I will not deny that. That is the spy business. Let me tell you this young man, U.N.C.L.E provides protection as well as intelligence to its member nations against any perceived threat to that country’s well being and sovereignty, regardless of that nation’s political policies. Its ultimate goal is to maintain world peace.”
Illya felt he had no choice but to accept the offer, seeing his odds of survival were slightly better with the U.N.C.L.E. than if he stayed with GRU. Though he did apologize to Waverly saying that he wasn’t a well-seasoned operative and had but one kill to his name.
Mr. Waverly seemed almost fatherly and was most reassuring, saying that was not a consideration.
His exact words were, “ Let’s say we prove your former Comrades wrong, shall we?” *
Illya returned to England, now as a member of the Command and spent three years there under the direction of Harry Beldon. Just when he couldn’t take any more of Harry and his private agendas, Waverly finally sent for him.
As a formality he had to attend Survival School, after which he finally arrived in New York.
He was given the grand tour, and an apartment; that was something completely unexpected. A place of his own, and not just a tiny cold water flat like he had in the East End of London. His new abode was a decadence with which he could live.
His assignments were doled out and he kept his nose to the grindstone. The men he worked with didn’t seem to like him, but that was not his problem. He wasn’t there to make friends and he focused on doing his job to the best of his ability.
Yet over the past six months he found himself faced with something he hadn’t really experienced in London, and that was fear.
Not his fear, but others fearing him or resenting his presence. He would get the occasional shove or elbowing by some of the men, and their mumblings behind his back of ‘Commie go home;” That he could ignore. It was the women he found perplexing.
Not all of them though, there were some who seemed quite infatuated with him, but he knew better and steered clear of them. He had enough of problems with women in the past and swore off them, for the most part. Romance in the workplace was simply not a good thing.
It was the others though, the ones who would look at him with that fear in their eyes. Some showed disdain and gave him the cold shoulder.
The rhetorical speeches of Kruschev, making his threats to bury the Americans didn’t help at all and too many people at headquarters seemed to know Kuryakin’s politics; although he never discussed them with anyone. If asked if he were a Communist; he would not deny it, nor would he deny his Soviet heritage.
There was a growing feeling of hysteria regarding the atomic bomb here in the United State and many saw the Soviet Union as the Red Menace, threatening the lives of their children with a nuclear holocaust, still the President promised to protect them.
One day when Illya was alone in the commissary, a secretary approached him.
She stood there with one hand on her hip and with the other she pointed right at him. Her face was filled with contempt.
“Just so you know; we love our children here. Why would you want to hurt innocent kids?”
“Miss, I assure you I have no desire to hurt any child.”
“How can I save my little boy from Oppenheimer's deadly toy if you people are going to use it against us?”
“I could say that about the United States as well. Please sit with me that we might have a calm discussion. Would you care for a cup of tea?”
“No thank you...to the tea that is.” She sat, practically staring down poor Illya.”Well go ahead. Have your say.”
“Very well,” he took a sip of tea and slowly set the mug down in front of him.
“As I see it there is no monopoly in common sense on either side of the political fence. We as human beings share the same biology regardless of our country’s ideology. My people do not want to die, just like you. I assure you we Russians do love our children too, very much. We want the best for them and that is a world free of war and strife. This is one of the reasons why I accepted Mr. Waverly’s invitation to join UNCLE. We agents want to save the world and that means you, me...everyone. Can you not see that?”
Her face flushed with embarrassment. “I guess you’re right.
“Trust me when I say Russian people only want to live like you, and are not war mongers.”
She stood, pushing her chair back to the table before responding. “Well I hope you’re telling the truth.” There was a coldness to her voice and Illya knew he hadn’t won her over and he watched as she left the Commissary.
He shrugged, realizing you can’t win them all. Still he’d try, even if he had to assuage the fears of one person at a time. Actions speak louder than words, so doing his job to the best of his ability had to remain his focus. That might prove to the naysayers that he was not the enemy.
Lifting his mug; he took another sip, but found the tea had gone cold.
Perhaps things would be better as he was going to meet his new partner today…
* from my story “First Kill”
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2016-04-21 05:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-04-21 05:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-04-21 09:05 pm (UTC)I love your peeks into the life of young Illya. They always seem right on, and this is no exception. Thank you for sharing it with us.
no subject
Date: 2016-04-21 09:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-04-21 09:54 pm (UTC)I'm so glad you decided to join in the Challenge!
no subject
Date: 2016-04-21 10:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-04-21 10:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-04-21 10:44 pm (UTC)