Hi All! So here it is: my second foray into MFU fanfic, and I hope you will enjoy reading this one, which is more action/adventure than the first.
Also, please allow me to take a moment to sincerely thank everyone who has read my first story ("The 'O Sweet Revenge' Affair"), and to say as well how grateful I am to those of you—Members and Guests—who took time to share with me your thoughts and reactions to that story via Reviews and PMs! Your feedback and encouragement is truly deeply appreciated more than you realize. xxDA
So now on to the particulars for "The Master Race Affair":
*T* Rating for some violence, a little language, and adult themes (no erotica or slash)
Categories: Action/Adventure, Suspense
A FOREWORD ABOUT THE GERMAN PHRASING USED IN THIS STORY. I consulted with at least 3 different online translation sites, including Babylon, to choose the German phrasing I've used for some character dialogue. If you are familiar with that language and feel the phrasing is not quite right, I apologize. Also, in most cases, where such phrasing is used, the translation is provided. Otherwise the German characters would realistically be speaking in German—but in the story their dialogue is mostly presented in English for obvious reasons.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Man From U.N.C.L.E. series, images, or its original characters. This story is intended to be read and (hopefully) enjoyed solely as a work of fanfiction and is dedicated to the talented actors who portrayed these beloved characters in the two original 1960s television series—Robert Vaughn, David McCallum, Leo G. Carroll, Stefanie Powers, Noel Harrison
This story features Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin, with an appearance by Alexander Waverly
Prologue
Somewhere in Bolivia, South America
Lying on his stomach, filthy and sweat-soaked despite the cool air whooshing past him, U.N.C.L.E. agent Napoleon Solo inched and slithered his way through the barely man-sized ductwork of the fortress as quietly as he could. At each vent opening he would pause to try and scan the corridor or room below for any sign of his partner, Illya Kuryakin.
The other agent had only had time to transmit to Solo using a stolen THRUSH pocket communicator that his presence had been detected, thereby jeopardizing the mission.
Kuryakin had urgently whispered, "..am compromised. There…another hid...lab. You must find...complete mis…no matter…." before the static-laden connection had failed and Solo could not get him back.
Now on a rescue mission to find his partner as well as complete their mission, the senior agent was desperately trying to locate Illya's whereabouts within the massive complex by using the structure's air and heating ducts, which for maintenance purposes were just large enough for someone his size or a little larger to navigate through.
On occasion he could hear the sounds of the search for Illya, and from what he could gather, they were only looking for one intruder: his partner—which gave Solo reason to believe the inhabitants were not aware of his presence as of yet.
He saw another opening just a few feet ahead and worked his way toward that, guessing he must be in the utmost levels of the building by now.
Taking a moment to wipe dust and sweat from his eyes, he cautiously inched closer toward the square of light. Peering down, he heard movement in this room, which seemed devoid of furnishings. Then to his vast relief Napoleon saw the unmistakable blond head and black-clad form of his partner, gun in hand, as the other U.N.C.L.E. agent lithely moved in and out of his limited viewing range through the vent grating.
He could tell Illya was casing the room for a means of escape, going to the window and looking out at the steep mountain drop below, perhaps even gauging if there was a ledge wide enough for him to traverse.
To free up his hands the Russian reached behind him, deftly sliding the gun into its holster nestled against the small of his back under his clothing, and then began trying unsuccessfully to push open the heavy multipaned window.
"Illya," Solo whispered as loudly as he dared.
The blond agent jerked around, startled.
"Up here, look at the vent," Solo rasped.
The younger man's vivid blue eyes gazed up toward the ceiling and spotted the vent opening. He could barely make out Solo's shadowed face pressed close to the lattice metal covering.
"How on earth did you….?" Kuryakin began, speaking in low tones as he peered up at him, but Solo interrupted, urgently warning: "They are searching everywhere for you and are close by but I don't think I've been detected yet. Did you say there's another lab? Where is it?"
Illya's expression grew grim. "Yes, a secret laboratory, one I overheard them talking about, but I wasn't able to find its location. It may not even be in this building. That is the one which must be destroyed at all costs, Napoleon, no matter what happens to me." He paused, adding bitterly as he stared intently up at his partner and friend: "I'm sorry I failed you…and Waverly. Will you tell him that?"
They both understood as U.N.C.L.E. agents that in some situations, like this one, an agent could become expendable— especially if he or she were captured—for the sake of completing the mission when so much was at stake.
Knowing that Illya's life was on the line, Solo whispered anxiously, "Is there anything down there to stand on so you can reach me?"
The fair-haired agent glanced quickly around the empty room and then looked bleakly back up at him, shaking his head. "There's nothing in here for me to use to get up that high. I'm not even sure I could fit through that vent opening if I could reach it" He paused, his keen mind racing. "How close are they? Can I leave here and try to find another…."
He didn't finish because the door to the room suddenly burst open, slamming so hard against the wall it rattled the window panes.
In reflex Illya whirled defensively, pulling out his gun from the back holster.
But it did him little good. As fast as the youthful U.N.C.L.E. agent was his adversary was quicker—and stronger. Solo heard a hoarse guttural shout and then saw a large hand grab the slim Russian's extended gun arm and deflect the shot aside as Illya fired…then violently yank him out of Napoleon's limited line of sight.
There were the unmistakable sounds of a fierce struggle…then a muffled curse, followed by a sharp agonized cry from Illya that was abruptly cut off.
Hidden up in the vent shaft Napoleon Solo listened, then watched helplessly in mute anguish as he saw his partner's body suddenly fly past his line of vision and hit the gray stone wall of the empty room.
Because he was already unconscious before he was thrown into the wall, Illya made no sound as he fell hard to the patterned carpet. He landed sprawled face down, right arm flung out and bent at an unnatural angle.
The young Russian's mane of pale hair obscured his features from Solo's view and he lay so still and silent that the senior agent could only pray he hadn't just witnessed the death of his partner and friend.
A hulking middle-aged man with a knobby bald head came into view and bent over the young man to see if he was still breathing. He then grabbed a fistful of Illya's flaxen hair with stubby fingers as he growled ominously in German, "You may not be dead yet, boy, but you will be when I snap your neck as easily as I did your arm." The look on his face was murderous, and Solo could see blood streaming from the broad nose where Illya had managed to land a solid blow despite the obvious difference in their size and strength.
In an instinctive effort to protect his helpless partner from the hulking brute's deadly intent Solo quickly sighted his gun through the grillwork and was about to fire when unexpectedly a woman's stern voice ordered sharply in German, "That's enough, Bruno! He's not to be further damaged! Pick him up and take him to the laboratory below."
Reluctantly releasing his grip on Illya's hair the big man glared belligerently over toward someone Solo could not see, but said nothing and did as told. He swiped the blood from his nose and then flipped the unconscious captive onto his back heedless of the damaged arm and scooped his limp form up into his own massive arms as easily as if he was lifting a sleeping child.
Solo caught one brief glimpse of his partner's bruised, chalky face and closed eyes as he was carried out of sight.
The U.N.C.L.E. agent tiredly rubbed his hands over his grimy face, his thoughts in turmoil. With Illya's capture Plan A of this assignment had gone deplorably awry, and now he could only hope that their backup Plan B would not only salvage the mission…but save his friend's life as well.
