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section7mfu
Napoleon and Illya ran through the airport, dodging a small band of monks, their heads shaved and wearing bright orange robes, ringing their hand cymbals and chanting loudly while they danced in place, as if in a trance.
“Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna, Krishna Krishna, hare hare…”
Families and businessmen heading to their gates, trying to avoid these strange people, seemed unfazed as the two U.N.C.L.E. agents dashed past them, thinking the men were merely rushing to catch a flight.
They were in fact chasing after a man, one Dr. Franz Müeller, who was carrying a brown leather case and running as well. He was a former Nazi scientist, now in the employ of T.H.R.U.S.H. and spearheading a special project, one that was to bring certain historical figures back to the world of the living.
It hadn’t been the first time Central had involved themselves in such an endeavor, having at one time tried to revive Adolph Hitler, but they failed thanks to UNCLE.
Hitler, the world was told, committed suicide and his body burned outside his bunker in Berlin. A grand lie, as he’d been cryogenically preserved, to be revived to rule the world again someday, but the lie became truth as the Fürers body, secretly hidden for years, was finally destroyed by fire. *
Now Müeller had a different plan, to clone the Führer from preserved DNA, a new and fascinating science that had great possibilities. He carried that valuable commodity with him as well as genetic material for Stalin and Lenin, and an array of other great leaders who died before their time. It was a grand plan to infuse their genetic material with that of developing fetuses just at the right time and create these people anew.
During the war, such experiments on Russian children had proven highly successful, though to his knowledge, none of the specimens had reached adulthood except his adopted own son, and the of remaining others, three of them had died as casualties of war, leaving three unborn ones unaccounted for.
Napoleon and Illya finally cornered Müeller near a luggage carousel, and a tousle with the man sent the precious briefcase onto the belt, circling with other luggage while the agents fought off the two bodyguards accompanying scientist.
After a few minutes the THRUSH guards were dispatched and Illya went clambering after the case, climbing onto the carousel and stumbling over the many suitcases until he finally retrieved it.
Napoleon cuffed the Professor, not handling him roughly as he was not a young man, though he felt nothing but disdain for the former Nazi.
“Your days of meddling with the dead are done Dr.Müeller,’ he said and waved off the curious who’d gathered to see what was going on. "An evil soul producing holy witness is like a villain with a smiling cheek, A goodly apple rotten at the heart: O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath!" Solo had used that Shakespearean quote once before, when dealing with Dr. Amadeus, the man who’d previously tried to revive dead. It seemed appropriate for him to make use of the words again, if only to himself and the doctor.
“Napoleon, I have the case,” Illya said, rejoining his partner.
Dr. Müeller’s face went white as soon as he saw the Russian. “Rolf?” The look on the man’s face was one of utter surprise.
Kuryakin cocked his head, “No my name is Illya.”
“Rolf...It cannot be, you are dead.”
“My name is not Rolf Herr Doctor.” Illya corrected him again.
Dr. Müeller, suddenly grabbed his chest as his face turned beet red.
”Rolf you’re aliiiiive.”
The man collapsed to the floor, apparently of a heart attack.
.
In Alexander Waverly’s conference room, Illya Nickovich Kuryakin stared at the old black and white photo he held in his hand. It was amongst the belongings of Dr. Müeller when they searched his briefcase holding the formula as well as unidentified samples of DNA.
The picture was of a young man standing in the snow holding a rifle and dressed in a winter camouflage uniform of a German sniper. On the back of the photos was scribbled Rolf Müeller 1944.
Illya’s face was expressionless, but had gone deathly pale, as if he’d seen a ghost.
“Is there something wrong Mr. Kuryakin?” Waverly asked.
“You all right?” Napoleon chimed in as well.
His partner shook his head, handing over the picture.
Solo’s eye’s went wide. It could have been Illya...it looked exactly like him.” He sent it around on the table to Waverly.”
“This is indeed puzzling. I’d thought we’d seen the last of this sort of thing with Colonel Nexor,” the Old Man said.
“This is the second double I have encountered in my life, first Nexor, and now this one. It seems no coincidence to me, they were both Germans...and Nazis.”
“Well the resemblance explains the Professors reaction when he first saw you.” Napoleon theorized, “Perhaps when he’s stronger, we might have a little talk with him about this fellow Rolf. A brother...son perhaps?”
“Yes indeed gentlemen, please do so,” Waverly said. “We never investigated why Mr. Kuryakin and Nexor looked virtually identical, perhaps back then T.H.R.U.S.H. was up to more than we knew.
The Russian nodded; the gravity of the situation evident in his eyes.
Several days later they approached the professor who was a guest in Medical detention; presenting the photo to him and asking directly about it.
Müeller looked intently at the image as well as Kuryakin.
“Why are this man and I identical?” Illya asked, “and who is he?”
“He is...was my son, and his existence was due to experimentation in duplicating ...well it was one that had the intention of making duplicates of the Fuhrer himself as the end result. Rolf was a prototype, testing to see if things would work, many years of work were involved even before Herr Hitler came into power. There were several subjects who came after him, with improvements being made, and I assume, given your age and appearance, that you were among that group. They all died, except three who were unaccounted for as I recall. At this point I had assumed they were dead as well, but seeing you...I think not. One was adopted as the son of a German Colonel and the other two.... were you perhaps born in Kiev?”
Illya looked to his partner, not answering the question and refusing to believe what he was hearing. He was identical to this Rolf, and to Nexor...but how had they all been part of this experimentation? Müellers son was older and an adult during the war, Nexor and Illya were the same age, yet they all looked the same... and now there was another one as well?
“Nyet, that is not possible,”Illya blurted out. “ My mother gave birth to me, Nicholaí Alexaevich Kuryakin was my father...No, no way.” The pitch of his voice rose, along with his anger.
“Ah but do you look like the rest of your family?” Dr. Müeller asked.
Illya thought for a moment; his mother was blonde, as were the twins, Sasha and Misha....his half brother Kiril fathered by Nicholai, who no one at UNCLE knew about, had auburn hair as did their father, Dimitry, Illya’s older brother, and Katiya their baby sister.
Yet he and Kiril could have been twins, except for the hair color...he always wondered about that, as neither of them did not resemble their father, and they had different mothers, Kiril’s being a gypsy woman.
“Were there others, failures in this experimentation who might have survived?” Illya asked tentatively.
“Survived, no. Some born with the wrong hair, or eye color, though not many and they were euthanized."
“Where are you from young man? The professor repeated his question, now tiring.
“I was born in Kyiv in Ukraine. Why?”
“Ah, there were some test subjects there...pregnant women taken and injected with the DNA formula. Some of them got away and then of course the war broke out. We used anyone, even gypsies. Now that T.H.R.U.S.H. had shown interest in my work and was going to fund it; I was going to bring back….” the man began to cough violently and the nurse placed an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth; he never finished his sentence.
Illya bowed his head as Napoleon stood beside him. The American wanted to show his support to his friend, but for once, he refrained from putting his hand on the Russian’s shoulder. This time he thought it best to leave him be for the moment. He could just imagine the wheels turning in that blond head...
“Was he not a Kuryakin?” Illya silently asked himself, and now to think he could be the product of Nazi experiments on his mother... a sick, scientific version of the Lebensborn perhaps? He felt nauseous and excused himself to the bathroom.
He ran the cold water, splashing it on his face as he looked in the mirror. Who did this face belong to? If not his parents, then who? Illya tried shaking away that thought.
When he returned, the doctors and nurses surrounded the professor; he’d coded... another heart attack, and they were trying to bring him back. Their efforts failed, and all Illya could hear was the sound of the sound of the heart monitor as it flatlined.
There was no one left to answer Kuryakins questions.
“Sorry chum,” Napoleon said. “Hey, you’re still you, and your parents were your parents...I don’t believe what he had to say; he was after all a former Nazi, and how could you trust the word of a man who experimented on the innocent?”
“I am not so sure about that. Who am I...really?”
If he and Nexor were part of the last of the experiments, who was the third man...could it be his half-brother Kiril? Those thoughts Illya kept to himself for the moment. Still, if his mother had been pregnant with him when she was taken, that meant his parents were his parents, though his DNA had been altered....that was if this were all true.
Napoleon had no answers to give him, but finally gave that supportive squeeze of his hand on his partner’s shoulder. He mustered his thoughts, wanting to at least say something positive, as he knew Illyas head was probably spinning right now.
“You are Illya Kuryakin, my best friend...U.N.C.L.E. agent extraordinaire and no one, and I mean no one, is going to convince me otherwise,” Napoleon reassured him, though he’d never seen the Russian look this disheartened, and confused.
“Spacibo. Unless I find this third person, my double, I suppose it is a moot point. My family is gone, and I have no one to ask what happened, if anything,” Illya shrugged. Though he made it seem like he was brushing this aside; it was eating away at him, and would until he could somehow find Kiril.
That in itself would be near to impossible as he last heard his half-brother was now a member of KGB, and Illya was most certainly not going home to find the man and risk being captured by the secret police. KGB deemed him a traitor and was forever harassing him. They had made several near successful attempts to kill him already, and going to Moskva would only make their job easier. No, he needed to bide his time with this.
When last he and Kiril had met, it was not on the best of terms, as his half-brother was filled with resentment and hatred for him. Illya had tried to connect with Kiril, having discovered their relationship when they were both attending University of Georgia, but it soured. Kiril had never been acknowledged by their father, and the jealousy it had created towards Illya, and his abilities in school drove a wedge between them.
Kiril could never get over his illegitimacy…but now perhaps that was a moot point if they were indeed part of the Nazi experiments.
Illya’s thoughts wandered from those of his half-brother…perhaps if he could locate the body of Rolf Müeller, as his DNA could be checked, though that might be a near to impossible task. Nexor’s body had been destroyed, cremated by U.N.C.L.E. several years ago, but he could check to see if there was a DNA sample taken and preserved.
This was a puzzle that no doubt would take a long time for Illya Kuryakin to figure out. In the meantime it was something that needed to be put aside; he had a job to do. He was, after all, an agent of U.N.C.L.E. and had earned his reputation working with Napoleon Solo as a top-notch operative.
It was best not to let this dilemma get in the way of doing what he was supposed to do and that was remain alongside his friend Napoleon, who was for all intents and purposes like a brother; fighting the good fight.
.
It was three o’clock in the morning as the partners walked quietly walked down a dimmed corridor in headquarters, heading for the office they shared together.
“Illya, penny for your thoughts?” Napoleon asked, breaking the silence. ”Are you okay?”
“Fine, as always my friend. For now this is a puzzle to be put aside, and nothing more.” He shyly smiled at the American, trying not to reveal his true feelings. He would track down Kiril, though he needed to be patient. Illya patted his stomach, using it as a diversion. "At the moment I am rather hungry. Might we raid the commissary to see if there is anything edible?"
"Sure chum, whatever you want, though I'd hardly describe what food might be there as edible,"Napoleon smiled, for once knowing his parter was lying to him. "How about we go back to my place? I have a couple of nice porter house steaks in the fridge...and your bottle of vodka is still in the freezer."
"That sounds like a plan," this time Illya flashed his partner a grin.
"Good, done deal tovarisch. We can talk about our new assignment. We're heading to Istanbul."
Life had to go on, inspite of Napoleons concern for his Russian friend.
.
* ref “The Deadly Games Affair” Season 1 Episode 5
** Kiril Adropov mentioned in a number of my stories, is Illya’s half brother, fathered by Nicholaí Kuryakin with a gypsy woman.
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hi
Date: 2013-10-08 01:35 pm (UTC)Re: hi
Date: 2013-10-08 01:45 pm (UTC)Thanks for the comment and interesting comparison. Yes this begs for a sequel doesn't it? Will have to put it in the queue with all the others. lol.
no subject
Date: 2013-10-08 04:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-10-08 05:08 pm (UTC)Napoleon is THE friend...
no subject
Date: 2013-10-08 06:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-10-08 06:15 pm (UTC)Thanks for reading and commenting.
no subject
Date: 2013-10-08 07:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-10-08 09:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-10-08 09:47 pm (UTC)