Awakening Ghosts Chapter 3
Jun. 20th, 2014 11:02 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
jantojones.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
section7mfuChapter3
This chapter is up a lot sooner than I’d expected. Thanks to having the time and receiving very positive comments, I had a burst of creativity today. There is one more part to go after this one, so I hope you stick with it.
MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUM
Woken by the immense pain in his shoulder, it took Napoleon a few seconds to bring the cause of it to mind. Eventually, he remembered Illya and Alexey and THRUSH. He struggled to his feet and took a quick glance around the house. There was clearly no-one else in the building, but Napoleon was heartened to note that they only blood he found was his own. Finding Illya’s gun, however, only served to heighten Napoleon’s sense of dread. Spurring himself into action, he contacted HQ and asked for them to try and trace Illya’s personal locator beacon. The Russian would need to have activated it for it to be picked up, but Solo always tried to live in hope.
“We’ll get right on it Mr Solo,” Mr Waverly told him, his irritation evident in his voice. “I shall expect you back here shortly.”
“Thank you Sir,” Napoleon replied contritely. “I just have one little request if you don’t mind.”
Mr Waverly tapped his pipe on the desk with frustration as Solo explained about the bullet in his shoulder. He knew that Kuryakin and Solo weren’t incompetent, their record proved that beyond any doubt. Every so often though, the pair managed to mess up so utterly, Waverly wondered if they’d been replaced by new recruits.
“Stay where you are Mr Solo, a medic will be along presently.”
Putting his communicator away, Napoleon sat down a little too heavily. He was dizzy and weak from blood loss and worry. What really concerned him was, should they manage to find Illya alive, how was the Russian going to deal with his newly discovered brother betraying him?
MFUMFUMFUFMUFMUFMUFMUFMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMF
Illya Kuryakin was experiencing a great deal of physical pain. He was hanging by the wrists with his ankles chained to the floor. His captor was well aware of his ability to swing himself up and release his hands, so had made sure to prevent this. For a full fifteen minutes, Illya was mercilessly beaten by three THRUSH goons. Throughout the ordeal, he endeavoured to keep is eyes locked on his brother. Alexey’s facial expression remained impassive as he watched the torment. Inside his head, however, the younger Russian was in turmoil.
When his mother had told him he wasn’t her son, he’d been devastated. Alexey loved his parents, and was grateful that they’d wanted him, but this of course, meant that his natural parents hadn’t wanted him. His mother had tried to explain that they had simply been trying to do what was best for him, but Alexey couldn’t accept that. Following his mother’s death, he’d set out to look for the people who had rejected him. The discovery that all, apart from his brother, were dead had been a blow. Alexey had worked himself up into a state of vengeance and decided that all of his rage and hate would be concentrated on Illya Nickovitch. It didn’t matter to him that, at six years of age, Illya couldn’t possibly be held accountable.
He thought his search had been prematurely ended when he learned Illya was living in America. Alexey simply didn’t have the means or ability to travel there himself. That was when he’d been approached by a man named Milton Fairweather, who said he was from an organisation called THRUSH. Alexey had never heard of it. The man explained he was looking to dig up any information on Illya Kuryakin in order to discredit him with the American authorities. Unfortunately, it turned out his background was so deeply hidden it was practically non-existent. They were going to have to fall back on the old capture-torture-kill plan. Alexey told Fairweather he would like to see Illya suffer. He needed him to atone for the sins of his parents.
Ordinarily, Milton Fairweather would have dismissed Alexey’s request, but Kuryakin had been a pain in his backside for a long time. Presenting him with a long lost brother, who wanted to see him tortured, was a delicious little cruelty he couldn’t pass up. So, he’d brought the Russian to America and told him where his brother could be found. Fairweather allowed time for Kuryakin to verify Alexey’s identity. The younger man was given a locator beacon and a device to send a signal as soon as Illya knew the truth. He was informed that Fairweather would be waiting nearby. Alexey followed his instructions to the letter, looking forward to seeing the remaining member of the family who rejected him suffer.
Sitting in the corner of the room, watching as his brother was beaten black and blue, Alexey found himself regretting the actions he’s taken. The revelation shocked him somewhat. He’d been so intent on finding his vengeance; he hadn’t given any consideration to how it would feel to actually meet Illya in the flesh. His convictions had started to waver when he’d seen Illya’s reaction to being told he had a living relative. He’d realised then, that the man was also his only living relative, but he’d come too far along the path to turn back. Having seen what would only be the beginning of the torture, Alexey realised he wouldn’t be allowed to back out now.
Fairweather entered the room and ordered the beating to stop. Alexey had to try hard not to breath an audible sigh of relief.
“I do hope you’re comfortable Mr Kuryakin.”
Illya could help but roll his eyes. Did THRUSH have a training manual for cheesy interrogation dialogue?
“I have been held captive in better places,” he replied, affecting his most bored voice.
“I’m sorry you’re not enjoying your stay, but I’m afraid it will be getting much more uncomfortable.” Fairweather growled, through gritted teeth. He’d forgotten how infuriating the Russian could be. “I intend to kill you this time, right after I’ve extracted all of your secrets.”
“I wish you luck in that endeavour.”
“You won’t be so smug shortly Mr Kuryakin,” his captor crowed. “For the moment though, I shall leave you with your brother. I’m sure you have some things to discuss. Don’t get to excited though, I shall be leaving a guard in the room and he understands Russian.”
Fairweather and two of the goons left, leaving the brothers to stare at each other. Alexey eventually broke the silence.
“I was wrong,” he confessed. “I still can’t forgive our parents, but you are innocent. You were just a child yourself.”
“I do understand,” Illya told him. “I feel deceived myself. I grew up thinking you were dead.”
“I’m sorry I got you into this.”
Illya laughed, surprising Alexey.
“I would probably have ended up here whether you were involved or not. Fairweather and I have a history. Would you do me a favour Alexey?”
“Of course.”
“Undo my belt buckle please,” Illya requested. “It is digging into a particularly painful bruise.”
Confused, Alexey looked to the guard for permission. Receiving a nod of approval, he did as he was asked. Illya’s torso was probably one giant bruise and he wouldn’t be surprised if there were some damaged ribs. He couldn’t begin to guess at why his buckle would be such a problem. As soon as he was close to Illya, the older man managed to whisper for Alexey to turn the rim of his fly button 360 degrees. Alexey was still further confused, but assumed it served a purpose. Once his task was done, he stepped away from Illya. His brother gave him a wink which caused his guilt to resurface. How could he be so friendly to the man who’d wanted him tortured? He had to find a way to get them both out. How he was going to achieve this, Alexey didn’t know. What he did know, was that despite everything, he had a brother and he would do what it took to earn his forgiveness.
MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMF
At U.N.C.L.E. HQ, Melanie James ran into medical, where Napoleon was resting following a procedure to remove the bullet from his shoulder. The doctor was pleased to tell him that it was a fairly simple wound which would heal quickly.
“Mr Solo?” Melanie panted, waking Napoleon from his doze. “Mr Kuryakin’s locator has been activated.”
Napoleon was immediately on alert. The nurse tried to stop him from leaving, but she didn’t stand a chance. Illya Kuryakin was going to be found, and he was going to be there when he was.
To be continued.
This chapter is up a lot sooner than I’d expected. Thanks to having the time and receiving very positive comments, I had a burst of creativity today. There is one more part to go after this one, so I hope you stick with it.
MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUM
Woken by the immense pain in his shoulder, it took Napoleon a few seconds to bring the cause of it to mind. Eventually, he remembered Illya and Alexey and THRUSH. He struggled to his feet and took a quick glance around the house. There was clearly no-one else in the building, but Napoleon was heartened to note that they only blood he found was his own. Finding Illya’s gun, however, only served to heighten Napoleon’s sense of dread. Spurring himself into action, he contacted HQ and asked for them to try and trace Illya’s personal locator beacon. The Russian would need to have activated it for it to be picked up, but Solo always tried to live in hope.
“We’ll get right on it Mr Solo,” Mr Waverly told him, his irritation evident in his voice. “I shall expect you back here shortly.”
“Thank you Sir,” Napoleon replied contritely. “I just have one little request if you don’t mind.”
Mr Waverly tapped his pipe on the desk with frustration as Solo explained about the bullet in his shoulder. He knew that Kuryakin and Solo weren’t incompetent, their record proved that beyond any doubt. Every so often though, the pair managed to mess up so utterly, Waverly wondered if they’d been replaced by new recruits.
“Stay where you are Mr Solo, a medic will be along presently.”
Putting his communicator away, Napoleon sat down a little too heavily. He was dizzy and weak from blood loss and worry. What really concerned him was, should they manage to find Illya alive, how was the Russian going to deal with his newly discovered brother betraying him?
MFUMFUMFUFMUFMUFMUFMUFMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMF
Illya Kuryakin was experiencing a great deal of physical pain. He was hanging by the wrists with his ankles chained to the floor. His captor was well aware of his ability to swing himself up and release his hands, so had made sure to prevent this. For a full fifteen minutes, Illya was mercilessly beaten by three THRUSH goons. Throughout the ordeal, he endeavoured to keep is eyes locked on his brother. Alexey’s facial expression remained impassive as he watched the torment. Inside his head, however, the younger Russian was in turmoil.
When his mother had told him he wasn’t her son, he’d been devastated. Alexey loved his parents, and was grateful that they’d wanted him, but this of course, meant that his natural parents hadn’t wanted him. His mother had tried to explain that they had simply been trying to do what was best for him, but Alexey couldn’t accept that. Following his mother’s death, he’d set out to look for the people who had rejected him. The discovery that all, apart from his brother, were dead had been a blow. Alexey had worked himself up into a state of vengeance and decided that all of his rage and hate would be concentrated on Illya Nickovitch. It didn’t matter to him that, at six years of age, Illya couldn’t possibly be held accountable.
He thought his search had been prematurely ended when he learned Illya was living in America. Alexey simply didn’t have the means or ability to travel there himself. That was when he’d been approached by a man named Milton Fairweather, who said he was from an organisation called THRUSH. Alexey had never heard of it. The man explained he was looking to dig up any information on Illya Kuryakin in order to discredit him with the American authorities. Unfortunately, it turned out his background was so deeply hidden it was practically non-existent. They were going to have to fall back on the old capture-torture-kill plan. Alexey told Fairweather he would like to see Illya suffer. He needed him to atone for the sins of his parents.
Ordinarily, Milton Fairweather would have dismissed Alexey’s request, but Kuryakin had been a pain in his backside for a long time. Presenting him with a long lost brother, who wanted to see him tortured, was a delicious little cruelty he couldn’t pass up. So, he’d brought the Russian to America and told him where his brother could be found. Fairweather allowed time for Kuryakin to verify Alexey’s identity. The younger man was given a locator beacon and a device to send a signal as soon as Illya knew the truth. He was informed that Fairweather would be waiting nearby. Alexey followed his instructions to the letter, looking forward to seeing the remaining member of the family who rejected him suffer.
Sitting in the corner of the room, watching as his brother was beaten black and blue, Alexey found himself regretting the actions he’s taken. The revelation shocked him somewhat. He’d been so intent on finding his vengeance; he hadn’t given any consideration to how it would feel to actually meet Illya in the flesh. His convictions had started to waver when he’d seen Illya’s reaction to being told he had a living relative. He’d realised then, that the man was also his only living relative, but he’d come too far along the path to turn back. Having seen what would only be the beginning of the torture, Alexey realised he wouldn’t be allowed to back out now.
Fairweather entered the room and ordered the beating to stop. Alexey had to try hard not to breath an audible sigh of relief.
“I do hope you’re comfortable Mr Kuryakin.”
Illya could help but roll his eyes. Did THRUSH have a training manual for cheesy interrogation dialogue?
“I have been held captive in better places,” he replied, affecting his most bored voice.
“I’m sorry you’re not enjoying your stay, but I’m afraid it will be getting much more uncomfortable.” Fairweather growled, through gritted teeth. He’d forgotten how infuriating the Russian could be. “I intend to kill you this time, right after I’ve extracted all of your secrets.”
“I wish you luck in that endeavour.”
“You won’t be so smug shortly Mr Kuryakin,” his captor crowed. “For the moment though, I shall leave you with your brother. I’m sure you have some things to discuss. Don’t get to excited though, I shall be leaving a guard in the room and he understands Russian.”
Fairweather and two of the goons left, leaving the brothers to stare at each other. Alexey eventually broke the silence.
“I was wrong,” he confessed. “I still can’t forgive our parents, but you are innocent. You were just a child yourself.”
“I do understand,” Illya told him. “I feel deceived myself. I grew up thinking you were dead.”
“I’m sorry I got you into this.”
Illya laughed, surprising Alexey.
“I would probably have ended up here whether you were involved or not. Fairweather and I have a history. Would you do me a favour Alexey?”
“Of course.”
“Undo my belt buckle please,” Illya requested. “It is digging into a particularly painful bruise.”
Confused, Alexey looked to the guard for permission. Receiving a nod of approval, he did as he was asked. Illya’s torso was probably one giant bruise and he wouldn’t be surprised if there were some damaged ribs. He couldn’t begin to guess at why his buckle would be such a problem. As soon as he was close to Illya, the older man managed to whisper for Alexey to turn the rim of his fly button 360 degrees. Alexey was still further confused, but assumed it served a purpose. Once his task was done, he stepped away from Illya. His brother gave him a wink which caused his guilt to resurface. How could he be so friendly to the man who’d wanted him tortured? He had to find a way to get them both out. How he was going to achieve this, Alexey didn’t know. What he did know, was that despite everything, he had a brother and he would do what it took to earn his forgiveness.
MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMF
At U.N.C.L.E. HQ, Melanie James ran into medical, where Napoleon was resting following a procedure to remove the bullet from his shoulder. The doctor was pleased to tell him that it was a fairly simple wound which would heal quickly.
“Mr Solo?” Melanie panted, waking Napoleon from his doze. “Mr Kuryakin’s locator has been activated.”
Napoleon was immediately on alert. The nurse tried to stop him from leaving, but she didn’t stand a chance. Illya Kuryakin was going to be found, and he was going to be there when he was.
To be continued.
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