Washington DC – Year: 2005
"What do you mean you can't find Kuryakin? How hard can it be to find one small old man? He can't be moving that fast! I don't care if the cameras are out! There is no comic book wanna be superhero wandering around! Kuryakin's making you see things! Now get out there and FIND HIM!" Beck was screaming. Abby suppressed a giggle and waited for the thugs to flee from their employer. They ran out of the room and completely missed the two figures hiding behind the open doorway of the stairwell.
When they'd passed Abby followed Illya into the room the screaming had come out of, and pain filled yells were still sounding. Their pistols made short work of the two men who were beating on Tony, who had been tied to the chair that Ducky had been in earlier. "Hello Jason," Illya smirked, as he put his pistol to Beck's head.
"You were right about the comic book wanna be, but wrong about there not being anyone else," Abby smiled as she walked by. She hurried through getting Palmer, Ziva, McGee and Gibbs down. Ziva went and grabbed the netbooks and computer files that had been thrown to the side of the room. Palmer had been given the bundle that had been wrapped up in Tony's button down shirt but had not been able to hide it before he and McGee had been captured.
"By the way Jason, you were incorrect about my daughter," Illya said to the shocked THRUSH agent. The sight of Illya Kuryakin still in his prime, abet as messed up as any mission tended to make him, held the THRUSH agent speechless. "She's not the assassin, she's the Goth scientist." With that, Illya shot Beck between the eyes, killing him instantly, although not before Beck had fully realized his mistake. He hadn't been facing one Kuryakin, he'd been facing two. "Let's get out of here," Illya said. Abby and Gibbs looked up at the shot from where they were hoisting Tony out of the chair, but didn't comment.
Abby led the way out of the building and to the van that she had brought. While she was perfectly comfortable driving her hearse to a rescue, there wasn't enough room in it to accommodate the entire team. After everyone was and inside sitting on the blankets she had strewn around the back as the only seats were those for the driver and front passenger, she handed the large first aid kit she'd brought to Illya. "Who wants to do the honors?" she asked, holding up the remote for the detonators while Illya and Palmer patched up Tony and Ziva.
"OOO! Gimmie!" Tony said as he reached for it. Without any hesitation at all, he pushed the button, setting off all of the bombs Abby and Illya had set. They could hear the explosions from where they were, but no one was expecting to see the building go up through the van's windshield. "You know, I really should have expected that," Tony remarked fatalistically as Abby called 911 and scrambled into the driver's seat. "The two of you did set those explosives after all."
Illya shrugged as Abby drove the van away from the fire. "Some of the compounds must have reacted badly with each other. Not all of them were marked so there was no way to tell everything that THRUSH was storing in those containers." He concentrated on cleaning the cuts on Anthony's face. The state of his son was much more important to him than another THRUSH satrap going up in smoke, even if there were still THRUSH goons inside.
Abby glanced in the rearview mirror and had to bite her lip to keep her snickers to herself. McGee and Palmer were gapping at Illya's nonchalant dismissal of hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of damage, and that was if only the slaughterhouse and meat packing plant were the only casualties. The area was full of abandoned warehouses and one time factories. There was no telling how many people were still inside the satrap and there was no telling how much damage would be sustained and lives lost, if there were any homeless people inside the other buildings, if the fires spread. "How often did you used to do this?" McGee finally asked.
Illya shrugged again. "When I was seven years old I was taken in by the KGB. Someone had spotted how intelligent I was and planned to make use of it. I graduated the equivalent of high school five years later. I attended college in Georgia in the Ukraine until I was fifteen. I was sent to UNCLE when I was nineteen, just having finished my required military service with the Russian navy. By that time I was already an accomplished assassin for the KGB and had finished most of my work for my doctorate in physics. You don't need to worry about the men I killed for them McGee. Most of my targets were people I am still quite happy to have sent on to their reward. Pedophiles do not deserve to live, not in Moscow or anywhere else in the world.
"I spent two years in Paris finishing up my degree and I spent the summer in between going through UNCLE's Survival School. After that I spent two years in the London office. Most of the work I did out of London wasn't all that exciting, but there was enough trouble to get me promoted to New York. Once I was there, I was partnered with Napoleon Solo and we averaged at least two missions a month until he turned forty. I averaged four missions a month for the two years after that, but it was mostly babysitting younger agents. Out of all those assignments I frequently was required to blow something up and I don't believe that I ever had an assignment where I didn't have to kill someone." He turned to Palmer; handing over one of the knives he'd just finished sterilizing. "Would you mind removing the bullet from my leg?"