After getting him inside and making sure Napoleon was otherwise alright, Illya was on the phone to U.N.C.L.E., informing them of the THRUSH sneak attack Midtown—while omitting the details of Napoleon's transformation, of course. Napoleon, who had now changed once again while bemoaning another set of shredded clothes, took a look at him to make sure that Illya was focused on the call before slipping out into the corridor and heading to Dr. Fisk's apartment a few doors down.
He knocked on the door, not even noticing Baba Yaga slipping out the door, as well, following him silently as Dr. Fisk opened the door.
"Mr. Solo?" Fisk asked. "Is something wrong?"
"Yes," Napoleon said, trying to stay calm. "Whatever you gave me to calm me down didn't work—at all. I guess I must be resistant to it."
"Oh dear. I'm sorry to hear that."
"Do you have anything stronger you can give me?" Napoleon asked.
"Mr. Solo, please don't make me do that," Fisk said. "I could get in deep trouble as it is, giving you that first dose without a prescription."
"I need something stronger," Napoleon said, through gritted teeth, still not noticing Baba Yaga, whose tail was lashing as she stared at Fisk. "Please! Before Illya finds out! I can't explain it now, but it's absolutely vital-"
"Alright, alright—but this is absolutely the last time," Fisk said. "Do I make myself clear?"
"As crystal," Napoleon responded, pushing past him and rolling up his sleeve again as Fisk now went for a syringe with red liquid in it.
But just as he injected the syringe into Napoleon's arm, the both of them gave a start as Baba Yaga screeched in fury, leaping at the doctor and clawing and biting at his arm.
"Baba Yaga!" Napoleon chided, pulling the empty syringe out of his arm himself. "What's gotten into you!?"
He collected the hissing and spitting Mau as she swiped an angry paw towards Fisk, tense with rage.
"I'm sorry," Napoleon offered. "I guess she thought you had some ill intentions with that needle; she's really protective of Illya and me…" He blinked as Baba Yaga hissed again, her ears flattened back as she glared at Fisk. "Easy, my dear, easy… I'm alright…" He looked back at Dr. Fisk and shrugged.
"That's… fine…" Fisk said. "No charge for this, either; just don't come back here again, okay?"
"Okay," Napoleon promised, and he carried the still-agitated cat out.
Fisk watched them go, regretting what he had been forced to do by Gaston once again. If Gaston was right about the modified serum, then Napoleon Solo would never be coming back again—not as a human, at any rate.
Napoleon, of course, was blissfully unaware of what was coursing through his bloodstream, instead focusing on the bizarre behavior of the cat, who was still agitated and yowling as he brought her back inside the apartment he shared with Illya.
"Where did you go!?" Illya demanded.
"Baba Yaga's upset about something," Napoleon said, ducking the question entirely as he handed her off to Illya.
This did, temporarily, distract the Russian as he attempted to soothe the Egyptian Mau, who could not be consoled.
"Perhaps she has sensed your biorhythms are off and is worried," he suggested.
"Yeah, that must be it," Napoleon said. He sat down on the couch, frowning. If the sedative was stronger, shouldn't he have begun to feel the effects already?
"I have instructed U.N.C.L.E. to be on the lookout for THRUSH activity Midtown," Illya said. "However, there is every chance in the world that THRUSH might come here looking for you. We should go to Headquarters, Napoleon. You'll be safe there, and perhaps the sense of security will prevent any further transformations…" He trailed off. "Are you alright, Napoleon?"
"Hmm? Yeah, I'm fine."
Illya wasn't convinced, but Baba Yaga continued to attempt to break free, distracting him again. Puzzled and concerned, Illya placed her on the ground, and she ran to the apartment door, clawing at it as if she wanted to get out.
"…Odd…" Illya said. "I have only ever seen her act like this once before."
"When was that?" Napoleon asked.
"When that jealous lab technician poisoned me," Illya recalled. "She was absolutely furious and knew who he was by scent alone; she was trying to track him down…" He trailed off again, turning back to Napoleon.
"…You know what? I remember that, too," Napoleon said, realizing that Illya was beginning to get wise to what he had done. "I think-"
"Napoleon, has anyone given you anything in the last 24 hours?"
"…OK, look, I know it wasn't the smartest thing to do-" Napoleon sighed as Illya facepalmed. "Look, I was desperate, okay? I'm trying not to transform again, so I went to Dr. Fisk down the hall to give me some sedatives-"
"You what!?" Illya exclaimed.
"Well, I had to do something to keep my adrenaline down! It didn't work, so I just got another dose of something stronger, but it hasn't kicked in yet…"
Illya stared at him.
"You blockhead!" Illya exclaimed. "Of all the doctors in New York, you would go to Fisk!?"
"Well, he lives right down the hall, and he hasn't done anything to warrant our suspicions-"
"And do you not think that THRUSH hasn't figured that out—that they've been keeping him under surveillance all this time and waiting for the opportunity to use him against us the moment one of us got desperate!?" Illya said. "I will tell you why Fisk's 'sedatives' aren't working on you, Napoleon—I will stake my life on the fact that they are not sedatives at all, but the drug that is causing your transformations!"
Napoleon just stared at his partner, stunned.
Baba Yaga screeched loudly again, still clawing at the door. Illya grabbed his Special and motioned for Napoleon to follow. Shaken, Napoleon did so, also taking his Special. The moment Illya opened the door, Baba Yaga ran out like a blur of motion, stopping outside Fisk's apartment and clawing angrily at the door.
Fisk, unsure of what the sound was, had opened the door, and, without so much as a greeting, Illya shot him with a tranquilizer and forced the door open.
Baba Yaga rushed in and started clawing at the fallen doctor.
"What did it look like?" Illya asked, going over the vials and syringes on the table and counter.
"That was what he gave me just now—that red one," Napoleon said. "That's the syringe he used on me right beside it—didn't have time to throw it out yet."
"He used a different one before?"
"Yeah, a bright pink one…" Napoleon said. "That's it, there—I'd recognize it anywhere. There isn't anything else like it."
Illya pocketed both of the bottles, and then unceremoniously dragged Fisk out the door, with Baba Yaga still attempting to use him as a scratching post.
Napoleon exhaled, trying to get a grip on himself.
"Illya…" he said, quietly. He gave the Russian a sheepish look as he looked back at him. "Illya, I'm sorry. I was incredibly stupid."
Illya's expression softened.
"I know. You are under tremendous strain, and I cannot imagine what you must be going through. You panicked, as was natural for the situation. But, in future, do not try to hide things from me, especially when you know that I have your best interests at heart. Now, please, stay calm. I will take you and Baba Yaga to Headquarters, and I want the two of you to relax while I interrogate Fisk."
Baba Yaga stopped attacking Fisk and murorwed at Illya.
"That's right, I need you to use your wonderful purring to keep your father calm. Can I count on you?"
Baba Yaga now rubbed up against Napoleon, prompting him to carry her again. She did, indeed, begin to purr as Napoleon carried her out, and as Illya resumed dragging Fisk behind them.
Illya had made sure that Napoleon and Baba Yaga were relaxing before he analyzed the two vials of drug and then went to the interrogation room. Illya waited as Fisk stirred and slowly came awake in the interrogation room; Fisk took a moment to get his bearings, and then let out a gasp of horror as he saw Illya standing there, the rage evident in his eyes.
"M-Mr. Kuryakin!?" he stammered. "What happened!? Where are we!?"
"You are in the interrogation room of U.N.C.L.E. Headquarters," Illya said, coldly. "You have been arrested for inflicting grievous bodily harm on an U.N.C.L.E. agent."
"I did no such thing, Mr. Kuryakin!"
"Then why did you poison my partner?" Illya quipped back.
"It wasn't poison!" Fisk insisted. "It…" He trailed off, catching himself.
"Then, what was it?" Illya asked.
"Sedatives," Fisk lied. "Your partner came to me asking for sedatives, and so I gave him two different kinds."
"He came to you for sedatives, but you did not give him sedatives," Illya hissed, placing the results of both analyses on the table in front of Fisk. "These drugs were designed to react with adrenaline, not calm the body."
Fisk paled.
"Now, you will tell me everything," Illya insisted.
"I… I can't…" Fisk said. "He will kill me."
"Who?"
Fisk shook his head.
"Let me guess," Illya said. "Gaston of THRUSH?"
Fisk cringed.
"I will take that as a 'yes.' What did Gaston want with you—with Napoleon?" Illya asked.
"If I tell you, he will kill me!" Fisk cried.
"Do you know something, Doctor Fisk? I, too, am a doctor—twice over; I have a PhD in quantum mechanics—the study of atoms and subatomic particles, and I have a degree in pathology. See, in addition to being a field agent, I also perform autopsies for this organization." Illya leaned across the table, bringing his face an inch from Fisk's. "So, unless you wish to have the atoms of your deepest internal organs exposed to daylight on my autopsy table, it would be in your best interest to talk."
"You wouldn't-!"
"Napoleon is the merciful one, not me. And after you went along with Gaston to help turn him into the Beast of Broadway, I can honestly tell you that the Beast you helped Gaston unleash is nothing compared to the beast you have unleashed right in front of you." He raised a hand to Fisk's throat. "Talk."
"Okay, okay—I'll talk!" Fisk squeaked. "Gaston showed up a few days ago at my apartment—said he needed me to administer that pink vial to Napoleon Solo if he ever came by my apartment asking for sedatives. I didn't think it would ever happen; Mr. Solo had never come to me for anything, but, lo and behold—he did this morning, and so I did exactly what Gaston ordered me to."
"And the other vial?"
"After I reported the first 'success,' Gaston had that sent over—said that Mr. Solo would be running in to get more sedatives after the first 'dose' failed. I didn't want to do it, Mr. Kuryakin, but-"
"But, nevertheless, you did," Illya said, coldly. "You threw a noble man—a far better man than you-under the bus just to save your own cowardly skin when you could have come to us first! We would have helped you against THRUSH!"
Fisk flinched.
"I thought about it," he confessed. "But Gaston seemed to have tabs on me—he knew where I'd been and what I'd done in the last week. I had to obey him; I was afraid for my life, Mr. Kuryakin!"
"And now I am afraid for my partner's life; you have no sympathy from me," Illya spat back. "Did you know what the drugs did?"
"Gaston said that the pink one would temporarily turn Mr. Solo into the Beast," Fisk confessed. "They'd tested it extensively, he said, and needed him to have one more dose before they perfected the red one so that he would be desperate to take the red one. Gaston was right—again; Mr. Solo just showed up to get a stronger sedative, and so I did just what Gaston ordered, and gave him the red one."
"And what's the red one?"
Fisk looked away.
"Gaston said it was a perfected, self-sustaining version of the pink version—as you know, the pink version metabolizes in the body after the adrenaline spike, but this new red one will continue to synthesize itself from the products of the reaction even after the adrenaline spikes." He looked up apologetically at Illya as the Russian's face paled. "If Mr. Solo transforms again, this time, it will be permanent."