"Blood Moon" part 9. The Conclusion.

[mlaw]

                                                     

Rasputin flashed a scarred grin that looked more like a gash across his face; seemingly pleased with himself for the moment, though he was unaware of the explosives that had been planted throughout his compound.

"Professor if you would carefully put down the vial and please relieve Mr. Kuryakin of his weapon….hold it with two fingers only."

Cummings complied and with a shaking hand he took Illya's Walther from its holster and laid it on top of the safe next to the vial and formula.

"Kak eto vy zhivy_how is it you are alive? "Illya asked, raised his hands above his head." How did you survive the fire?"

"Vy vse yeshche ne ponimayete Kuryakin_ you still do not understand, Kuryakin?"

"I understand that you are a madman hell-bent on destroying the world, that is all I need to know."

Rasputin laughed, throwing his head back as he did so.

 

That was Illya's split second opportunity and he suddenly dove towards the dark Russian, grabbing him around the throat, squeezing as hard as he could.

"Na etot razvy sobirayetes' ostavat'sya mertvym _this time you are going to stay dead!" Illya growled as the two men wrestled.

"Etogo ne proizoydet_that will not happen!" Rasputin bellowed.

Rasputin out weighed Kuryakin and was a good six inches taller, giving him a physical advantage, but still the blond was wiry, having the tenacity of a snarling wolverine and wouldn't give up.

The professor watched the two men grappling until he saw Illya suddenly arch his back, staggering back from Rasputin… a dagger protruding from his abdomen.

"What was that you said about me staying dead Kuryakin?" Rasputin laughed as he watched the agent collapse to the floor, laying there in a growing pool of blood.

Rasputin grabbed his sword, zeroing it in on the blond's throat.

.

"Come on tovarisch, we gotta blow…" Napoleon stopped in mid-sentence, momentarily startled by the dark-cloaked figure looming over his downed partner.

Seeing the blood, he cried out. "You bastard!"

Solo took aim and shot Illya's assailant between the eyes as his head turned: ignoring the man as he fell dead to the floor and stepping over his body to get to his friend.

"Oh Jesus," he moaned, cradling his partner's head," Don't you leave me."

"Lookout!" A cowering Professor Cummings cried out.

Rasputin was on his feet and about to drive a hypodermic syringe into Solo's back.

The American tried dodging to the side but it was too late as the needle found his shoulder and the contents injected into him.

Napoleon fell backwards, the drug coursing through his system and sending his head reeling.

Bright flashes of light, spirals of color...he couldn't keep his balance and the inside of his head felt like someone was playing a game of ping-pong with his brain...yet at the same time he felt euphoric as light as air, like he was floating free of his earthly constraints. Still there was a part of him grounded to reality and that made him fight to keep himself upright, but it was an impossible battle that he was quickly losing.

He had no idea he'd been injected with the drug called Pale Rider.

.

Rasputin pointed his sword directly at the professor, preparing to drive it through the frightened man's heart.

"Now to take care of another loose end." He pointed his sword at Cummings who shrank back in fear.

"Please don't?" The professor begged.

"In nomine Patris, tibi ut cesset manus tua: quia impius bestia_In the name of the Father, thee that shouldst thy hands be idle, thou ungodly beast," A commanding voice shouted out in Latin.

The presence stood behind Rasputin, brandishing a long brightly polished sword.

"You must be on one of my drugs. You have no idea who I am," the dark Russian laughed. "I am Rasputin...the immortal and undying. No man can kill me."

"I am no man...I am the regent of the sun, flame of God, angel of the Divine Presence, presider over Tartarus and the destroyer of the hosts of Sennacherib. I have come to end this abomination. It is I who holds the key to the 'pit' though it is not yet the end times, It is there to hell I condemn thee in the name of the Lord for all eternity. Prepare to die...Grigori Yefimovich Rasputin!"

The Russian crossed his arms in front of his face in horror as the man standing in front of him seemed to burn bright with a golden light, and great feathered wings rose from his back.

The angel's sword burst into flame and in one swift motion he swung it as pitiless as any demon, beheading Rasputin.

The decapitated head hit the floor and rolled, coming to a stop with the face of Rasputin exposed in a grotesque look of utter shock. It and the quivering body began to shimmer. There was a pop and a cloud of black smoke-filled the air, quickly dissipating and leaving nothing to show the malignant creature had ever been there.

This spawn of Satan was finally dead and would at last, remain that way for all eternity.

.

Napoleon woke to the sound of multiple explosions, and sitting up he found himself and Illya outside the compound, lying in the grass at a safe distance as each of the buildings blew up in a spectacular display and erupted into a mountain of flame.

Sitting with them, looking quite bewildered, was Professor Cummings; a small glass vial and piece of paper clutched in his hands, with the other techs and all the darted guards were scattered around them, still unconscious.

"Illya?" Solo gasped; crawling to his partner's side.

The knife was no longer sticking out of the Russian's belly, and after a quick examination, Napoleon found his partner pale but breathing easily; the wound, astonishingly, was almost completely healed, with just a small fresh scar to show where it had been.

He shook his head, wondering if it had all been his imagination; his brain scrambled by whatever had been injected into him by the man he assumed was this Rasputin.

Napoleon looked to Cummings for answers. "Is Rasputin..?"

"Gone...dead, but you're not going to believe me when I tell you how.

"Try me."

The professor recounted the story of the sword wielding man, the flames and beheading….and how the body of Rasputin disappeared. It was all rather far fetched, and Napoleon wondered if the professor was on drugs too.

"I think…I think it was an angel sent by God to end all this," Cummings stammered.

Napoleon had his doubts, but given Illya's investigation and hints at this all being the end of the world with it's the biblical connotation... well just to be on the safe side; he uttered a prayer of thanks to God for it finally coming to an end, or at least giving them a light at the end of the tunnel, with both he and Illya still somehow alive and well.

He pulled his communicator, calling for a medevac and cleanup team.

Napoleon searched for hours looking for John Uriel but he was nowhere to be found and it was assumed the agent had been killed in the ensuing explosions. Solo felt bad about that as he'd taken a liking to the guy.

.

The agents, professor and the other technicians were brought to headquarters in New York for debrief. The T.H.R.U.S.H. lackies were sent to a prison facility in Canada, for interrogation and hopefully re-education.

The formula to cure people of their addiction to the Rider drugs was duplicated and farmed out to other labs to be mass produced and distributed as quickly as possible.

Clinics were being set up and lines were endless as drug users behaved himself...well under armed guards as they waited to be cured of their addiction.

.

Waverly was delighted to see Christina and her father safely reunited, and Raymond was given an U.N.C.L.E. escort to return to his grandmother's house, along with an ample supply of food stuffs to see them through, including Chock ful o' Nuts coffee just for Grandmother Lottie.

Once all had been settled, the Old Man had the sad task of calling the F.B.I. to inform them of their agent's demise during the operation. It was assumed that was what had happened as a body was never found, but with the amount of explosives that had been set, everything was pulverized and burnedburned to ashes. Nothing was left.

There was utter confusion on the other end of the line as the Old Man spoke to the acting F.B.I. director Walter Simpson.

"Mr. Waverly, that's impossible sir. John Uriel died months ago on his way to New York to help with your investigation. Whoever it was that worked with you was an imposter."

Napoleon and Illya listened in as their boss received the news over the speaker, watching the man's bushy eyebrows raise in surprise.

"Thank you Walter, we'll investigate this further and get back to you. Good day." He abruptly disconnected the call.

"Well gentlemen," Waverly turned to his agents, recalling Professor Cumming unbelievable story, "Perhaps there was some divine intervention after all in this horrendous affair. Given the odd coincidence of our impersonator's last name."

The partner's looked at each other, giving a shrug...not understanding where the Old Man was going.

"Surely Mr. Solo with your Catholic upbringing are familair with the names of the seven archangels are you not?"

"I remember some of them...Gabriel, Michael, Raphael. Hmm, I can't recall the other," Napoleon blushed.

"They are Simiel,Oriphiel and Raguel…and Uriel," Illya said. "Though I never made a connection.

That conclusion had them all raising their eyebrows...

.

The next blood moon came round and Napoleon and Illya found themselves again on the roof of headquarters, but this time they were simply there to watch it the event and not be frightened by it; they supposed by doing so it made for a sort of closure to the events of the last eighteen months.

The lights of the city had returned, people were back on the streets and the rebuilding process was well under way. The world was safe for now, until the next madman threatened its existence.

Rasputin, though once an advisor to the Romanovs and considered a bit of a ladies man had somehow morphed into evil incarnate or maybe he was that all along? Was it Satan who made him immortal?

It was strange though that his last act of creating a cure helped save the world in the end from his own ill intentions.

There was that irony and perhaps divine intervention as the Old Man had said.

"What do you believe about all this, I mean Uriel and Rasputin being the real one...?" Napoleon asked as they watched the eclipse; both of them taking long drags from their cigarettes, but stopping and looking at each as they did so; they tossed the butts aside, snuffing them out with their shoes.

"For once my friend I have no rational explanation as to what happened,"Illya answered," I will let you take it as a matter of faith on both our behalfs...for now."

"Amen to that, brother,"Napoleon smiled, clasping his hand on the Russian's shoulder.

"I believe in the power of that faith tovarisch, even though you don't. Something miraculous happened, of that I'm now convinced. The drug in my system that night was killing me, you were dying, yet somehow we were whisked outside the compound before it blew and we found ourselves healed."

Illya said nothing, and simply stared out at the last of the eclipse. He once believed in God and had faith, but for so many reasons that had all been driven out of him, leaving him empty and perhaps wanting.

Napoleon was right...how did he survive that belly wound? He should have died, yet he was healed. Was it a miracle? Perhaps he wanted to believe, and return to the faith of his family. He would have to think further on it before making his decision...he was, after all, the eternal pragmatist and realist.

Napoleon smiled, watching his friend stare up at the sky, seemingly lost in thought. Somehow he couldn't help but feel that he and Illya were being tested by a greater power, and by virtue of the fact, they both both saved and to escape an impossible situation; that being the case, he could only believe they'd both passed.

There was a sudden breeze and Solo canted his head to one side; swearing he heard the sound of John Uriel laughing…




* A/N: Uriel, one of the seven archangels is mentioned in the earliest Christian texts by Pope Saint Gregory I who listed them as Gabriel, Michael, Raphael, Uriel , Simiel,Oriphiel and Raguel. (this is not the definitive list of the archangels and they vary in Judeo-Christian writings)

Uriel, is always pictured as carrying a flaming sword and is called the "the regent of the sun, flame of God, angel of the Divine Presence, presider over Tartarus (hell in Greek mythology) and the destroyer of the hosts of Sennacherib was the son of Sargon II whom he succeeded on the throne of Assyria (705 – 681 BC).