Prolog
The large metal doors opened, and Napoleon Solo entered Waverly's office, followed by Illya Kuryakin. Alexander swirled his chair around to face them, and gestured towards seats.
"Won't you sit down gentleman?" The gentleman sat. "I'm afraid we have a very concerning situation on our hands," said Waverly, standing up. "We've just been contacted by Thrush."
"Again?" sighed Napoleon. "We really have get our number out of the phonebook."
"What did they say?" asked Illya.
"They threatened to initiate 'Project Really Über Bad Stuff' if we don't pay fifty million dollars in three days. I do not have to stress the danger of the situation gentlemen. We may not know the exact details of 'Project Really Über Bad Stuff' but we believe it to be bad."
"Going out on a limb there," commented Napoleon. Waverly chose to ignore him.
"You are off to Austria!"
"Austria?"
"If you don't mind me asking sir," said Illya, "Why Austria?"
"Our sources tell us that behind 'Project Really Über Bad Stuff' is a Doctor Erichkie. He was last spotted in a small Austrian town. You leave in an hour."
"Which sources?"
"What?"
"Well what sources are out there already to inform us of this , and spot the good doctor, and why can't they investigate it themselves?"
"My sources gentlemen," said Waverly, raising his voice, "Tell us that Doctor Erichkie is in Austria. You leave in an hour."
Illya shrugged.
"Sir may I just ask," said Napoleon, "Don't get me wrong, I'm loving the frequent flyer miles we're piling up, actually planning on using them to fly to Hawaii in April?"
"Oh really?" asked Illya. "April? Hawaii? That's a bad call. April's part of their busy season, surfing's terrible that time of year, winter's the time to go."
"I know, I considered that, but I really want to attend the Merrie Monarch Hula Festival over Easter, I hear-"
"Gentlemen, please," broke in Waverly.
"Right, sorry," said Napoleon, "But to get back to my original point, do we have to be the ones to go? I mean we're not the only two field agents."
"No, but you are the best in this branch, and this is our affair, as we were the ones Thrush contacted."
"Well because we're the only branch that has their number in the phone book!"
"Gentlemen please. You're going."
Napoleon sighed, "An hour you say?"
ACT I - "Best case scenario "
SOMEWHERE IN AUSTRIA
The blue convertible drove up into a small Austrian town and parked beside the inn. Napoleon and Illya got out. They surveyed the town. Men and women, mulled around the picturesque village wearing traditional Austrian clothes from 19th century.
"I hear they make a killing in tourist season," said Illya. "One of the wealthiest towns in Austria."
"Really?"
"Yes. Half these houses you go into you find quaint old-fashioned kitchens and creaky wooden stairs. They let the tourists in there. The other half are chock full of TVs and all the newest appliances. It's why there are twice as many houses as there are residences. Only half are actually lived in."
"Fascinating."
"Well shall we ask at the inn?"
"You first," said Napoleon.
"Oh no. I insist."
Napoleon, lowered his sunglasses slightly to survey the inn more closely, and then with him leading the way, the two entered the building. Behind the front desk, stood a short, portly man.
"Ah, excuse me, Herr," he checked the name tag, "Frederic, we're looking for this man." He took the picture of Doctor Erichkie out of his jacket pocket and placed it on the counter. "Have you seen him?"
The man took one look at the photo, eyes went wide, turned ghastly white, and whispered, "Go away! I want nothing to do with you! I have not seen that man! I have seen no one! I'm completely blind!" And with that he rushed away.
"Do you think he knows anything?" asked Napoleon.
"Safe to say Doctor Erichkie is in the area," said Illya, picking up the picture. "Now what do we do?"
"We wait.
"...for what?"
"Well, worst case scenario, the innkeeper comes back."
"Best case?"
"That happens," said Napoleon, with his most charming smiling, as the inn door opened.
The woman who came in, through the door was beautiful. Her skin was heavily tanned, and her dark hair perfectly swept up. If not for her homey, peasant clothes, with deep cut neckline, she might have been a model on the run way.
"Oh please Napoleon," said Illya rolling his eyes.
"Would you rather meet a young innocent village girl? Or an evil twisted Thrush one, who always requires far more maintenance. Think Miss Diketon."
Illya thought for a moment. He handed the picture over. "Have fun."
Napoleon, approached the woman. "Miss, would you mind telling me, if you've seen this man before."
The woman looked at the picture, looked at Napoleon, opened her mouth...and German came out.
"I'm sorry," said Napoleon, "I'm not up on my German. English?"
The woman shook her head, and continued in German.
"You must speak English. Girls always speak English."
The woman continued in German.
"Girls up in mountains with a bunch of monks who won't allow visitors, speak English. You've got to, too."
The woman shrugged and walked away.
"Well what do you know. No English." He returned to Illya. The blonde man smiled,
"One evil twisted Thrush girl coming up."
Then from outside came a female voice yelling, "Help! Help me! Help!" Napoleon and Illya exchanged glances and then rushed outside.
Left alone in inn the dark hair woman smiled and said to herself, in perfectly good English, "I have to remember this one, don't talk English and it gets rid of the creeps. Must try it out next time I go to Angelo's Bar."
ACT II - "Geesh"
Napoleon and Illya rushed outside. A blonde woman was standing in the middle of the street. They rushed up to her.
"What's wrong?" asked Illya.
"I was out for a walk," she sobbed grasping his arms, "Just a walk and I ran into these men, they were entering a cave, carrying guns. They saw me, and started chasing me. I've been running and running! I was so frightened."
"It's alright now, you're safe."
"Do you know where this cave is?" asked Napoleon. The woman nodded. "Can you show us?"
"I could just explain the directions."
"It would be better if you took us there yourself."
"I could draw a map."
"Still better if you took us, we might miss it."
"I don't want to go back out there! They were men with guns!"
"We have guns too."
"That so doesn't make me feel any safer."
"Look, said Illya, pulling his UNCLE card from his pocket. "We're from U.N.C.L.E."
She examined the card. "So you have a little piece of paper saying you belong to a super secret organization. First off that card is so not definitive. I could have one of those made up at printed up at the local Staples...well...if we were somewhere where there was a local Staples. But my point is, there's no picture of you on that, there's no agent number or anything. And second off, why is the fact that you're UNCLE agents supposed to help calm my nerves? If you're involved in what's going on, then I don't want to be. I'm engaged, and I plan on being alive come wedding day. I don't like guns, spies or intrigue!"
"Look miss-" began Napoleon.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't go to the police."
"You will find madam," said Illya, "The police are not always to be trusted when certain little thrush-like birds are around."
"Do people really talk like that?"
"Oh come on, just show us the stupid cave."
"There it is!" The woman, who had introduced herself as Vicky, said, pointing ahead of her.
"I see it," said Illya, "Thank-you very much. UNCLE is very grateful."
"Yeah, whatever."
"Perhaps when we're finished here," said Napoleon smiling, "You'll let me show UNCLE's gratitude with a little dinner?"
"Ah. Apparently you didn't hear my rant before. I'm engaged. Getting married? You know?"
"I believe it is a concept Napoleon is not entirely familiar with, no," said Illya.
"Well I'm heading back now. There's the cave. Go get shot up."
Click.
"I would not move," said a voice behind them, "You each have a gun trained at your heads."
"You're from UNCLE huh?" said Vicky looking at Napoleon and Illya, "Nothing to worry about right? Just show you the cave why don't I and then I can leave. Geesh."
ACT III - 'All Those Pesky Scientist Bills'
Napoleon, Vicky and Illya sat in a large room full of giant computers each with several blinking lights. They had been lead through the cave, past a secret door, and into hidden thrush base.
The Russian UNCLE agent tested his ropes.
"It's no use," said the Russian, "These bonds are too tight." Napoleon looked at his Russian friend. Illya was Russian. Illya had been born in Russia.
"Illya, where are you from?"
The door to the computer lab opened and a man entered. He dressed very simply, he was neither fat nor thin, tall nor short, and looked absolutely normal.
"Hello," said the newcomer smiling, "My name is John Smith."
"John Smith?" Napoleon blinked.
"Yes. It's absolutely boring isn't it?" asked the man delightedly.
"Err...well I wasn't going to say that to your face."
"Oh please do."
"Alright. It's absolutely boring."
"Thank-you so much," the man beamed. "I'm dull! I'm boring! I could you put you to sleep with the story of my life!"
"Well at least you're proud of it."
"Indeed! That's my gimmick."
"What?" asked Illya.
"No phobia of light for me, no aspirations to imitate historical figures, no weird Oedipus complex or fascination with toys. I'm happily married to a nice woman, who is perfectly aware of what I do, and who I keep hidden very far way. I have no ambition to rise through the ranks nor to I want any money, recognition or a personal axe to grind. Not one single vendetta do I have! No. I am boring! My weaknesses will not get me killed! I'm dull, Dull, DULL!"
"You must be very proud."
"Indeed I am! And now, you will die...just for the heck of it, I've never cared much for hostage situations."
"Die!" gasped Vicky.
"Don't worry," murmured Napoleon. "We'll get you out of here. And then calm your nerves with a drink or two." She slowly turned her head to look him straight in the eye and said very slowly and clearly.
"E-N-G-A-G-E-D."
"Before you kill us," said Illya "'Project Really Über Bad Stuff' is? I like to know what I'm dying for."
"Ordinarily I would say no. That would be just stupid. But given what the project is, I don't see the harm. It's nothing."
"Come again?"
"Absolutely nothing. UNCLE sends out agents, they're not able to destroy anything because there isn't actually anything to destroy, UNCLE thinks we've successfully kept our weapon safe, they pay the money, we save on all those pesky scientist bills. Perfect isn't it?"
"Smart," agreed Napoleon nodding thoughtfully.
"No!" declared John, turned to two fo the Thrush guards in the room. "Shoot them!" One of the guards pulled out a gun and pointed it at the three hostages.
ACT VI - "Still Talking About That One"
"STOP! What do you think you are doing?" The door had once again opened and man had come in.
"I'm about to have these UNCLE agents shot, Dr. Erichkie."
"But why? There's a perfect execution chamber in this facility. Water tank, we can release sharks into. Perfect for escaping from."
"...exactly."
"But they could get killed this way."
"Isn't..." John's voice trailed off, he thought for one very long moment, studied Napoleon and Illya, looked at Erichkie, and the continued, slowly, "Isn't that what we want?"
"Oh do you know nothing!" Erichkie turned to the Thrush agent holding the gun. "Release them this instant!" The guard rushed over to the prisoners and started untied their bonds.
"Well thank-you," said Napoleon, flexing his wrists, "Most uncomfortable."
"Please forgive John. He's very new to our organization."
"It's quite alright," Illya said, stretching.
"But I...I don't...I don't understand," said John, looking at the three men bewildered, "I mean every plan we come up with they stop. These two agents are continually getting in our way! We want them dead!"
"John! Do you know nothing?" asked Erickie in exasperation.
"One moment please," said Napoleon. He walked behind Vicky and tapped her on the collar bone. She went out cold. "Nothing like a tap to knock em out. Please continue."
"Why do you think it is John, at least one Thrush agent per location has a very nice picture of one of these two? I mean those are no snap shots, they're posed, pictures taken by a professional photographer at his studio. Do you think UNCLE just hands those out to all rival organizations to keep things fair and balanced? Why do you think our agents, guards and security officers continually miss them when shooting?"
"We hire the worst shots in the world?"
"On the contrary. To continually miss someone ten feet away from you, whilst shooting with a machine gun, and still aim in their general direction, requires very good shots."
"Well then I'm lost."
"Oh for crying out loud John, and they said you were of average intelligence. Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin are the head and original founders of Thrush."
"..."
"The poor boy looks a little dazed," observed Napoleon, walking over to the drinks table that every good computer laboratory has, and starting to pour drinks.
"I don't understand..." murmured John. "I don't...that can't be, they are continually and constantly foiling our every plan."
"Well of course they are! We don't actually want to start World War III, create super human warriors, or destroy the US of A with earthquakes. Heaven forbid. If we lost the New York where on earth would we go for Broadway Theater?"
"...you mean you want them to stop all our doomsday plots."
"Perhaps I can explain," said Illya smiling, "You see Mr. Smith, it very simple. Thrush lets it be known it has a new weapon, which will kill thousands."
"UNCLE never agrees to pay to stop the weapon, instead they send us in," said Napoleon, sipping his drink.
"We stop the weapon."
"Only want kind of idiot builds a brand new exciting weapon without writing detailed instructions of how to recreate it."
"And per Thrush policy, they send said plans to five different locations...just in case UNCLE blows up one or two."
"While UNCLE tries to destroy brand new exciting weapon," continued Napoleon.
"We find brand new exciting buyer with brand new exciting money."
"We always build two of everything."
"It's common sense. Then UNCLE blows up one copy of it (normally the prototype, very cheaply built), and we sell the second, while their guard is down, thinking the weapon's destroyed."
"Also advertising 'This weapon is so deadly UNCLE felt a need to blow it up' is wonderful for sales," conceded Napoleon.
"True."
"And of course all those 'grand weapons tests, we invite dozens of people to' are all show. We've always tested long before. For crying out loud, what if something went wrong? Terrible impression to give buyers."
"Wait," broke in John, "You mean you just sell all the things you make?"
"Yes," nodded Napoleon. "We just use our crazy 'let's destroy the civilized world if they don't give us lots of moolah' persona to attract the mad scientists."
"It works remarkably well," said Illya smiling.
"I..." John sat down on the floor.
"It's alright," said Illya smiling, kindly, "Try not to think to much about it. Just work on a phobia or two."
"What?"
"Well," said Napoleon, "It gets kind of boring for us, since we seem to be the only agents sent anywhere, we are constantly send on 'dangerous' missions that we know perfectly well will turn out all right, cause no one's really trying to kill us. Sure, it was kind of fun at first, but one death traps very like another. The only thing that really makes it interesting any more is the variety. See what you all come up with next to push you over the edge in the TYQVA."
"TYQVA?"
"'Thrush's Yearly Quirky Villain Awards'" explained Illya.
"The really talented villains," said Napoleon, "Manage to come up with a execution method related to their eccentricity."
"That train in the children's assassin school," murmured Illya, smiling in recollection."
"The TYQVA are still talking about that one."
Epilogue
"So we blew up the computer," explained Napoleon, "Grabbed Vicky and left." The three were sitting in Waverly's office. Vicky frowned,
"I still can't remember what knocked me out."
"Well at least 'Project Really Über Bad Stuff' has been adverted. Hopefully Thrush will think twice before trying anything like this again," said Waverly, surveying Napoleon and Illya from across the table. Vicky sat between them.
"Indeed," said Illya, smiling.
"And now, I think you two gentlemen should take some very well deserved time off."
"Well thank-you sir," said Napoleon rising, and butting his jacking, he turned to Vicky, and flashed her his ever charming smile. "And perhaps you would do me the honor of joining me for dinner tonight, and maybe a little dancing afterwards, or whatever else the night might hold?"
"Unless," said Illya, also rising, "You would be interested in something a little less dangerous?"
"Actually gentlemen," said Waverly, "I had two tickets to a concert tonight, I thought the young lady might care to join me."
Vicky sat there for one very long minute. She looked at Napoleon, at Illya and then at Waverly. Then slowly she stood up.
"Now what part, you could please do me the favor of explaining, do you know not understand about I AM ENGAGED! Geesh what kind of girls do you normally meet on this job? I'm getting married! I'm in love! I'm taken! I'm off the market! I am off, off, off the shelf. I don't know how many other ways to say it there are! This is seriously beginning to border on harassment! I am out of here!" The large metal doors closed behind her. There was a long silence.
"Well gentlemen," said Waverly, "Perhaps you would care for the tickets?"