SquidgeWorld Archive

The Blood Red Rose Affair,
Part 1 by Kei

UNCLE Headquarters, New York :

Napoleon Solo was in a good mood - which wasn't an unusual state of being for the Number One Agent of Section Two - but today seemed especially pleasant. Especially for that time of year when the days grew short and the weather cooled. Usually the fall sent a shadow of gloom to vaguely darken his mood, but not today somehow. Even almost being run over by that kid on a tricycle earlier hadn't shaken his good humor - a kid wearing a plastic Spiderman mask (Halloween in a couple of weeks, wasn't it, he mused).

For once, this was going to be a good day...leading to an even better weekend - no Thrush interrupting his plans (fingers crossed) to coax some sort of response out of a reticent Russian partner who held onto the old-fashioned notion that romance and work didn't mix. Napoleon grinned. He wasn't known as the Lothario of UNCLE for nothing. His partner would see sense.

"Ah, Mr. Solo!" Bonnie, the junior secretary manning the security desk smiled brightly as she stood up and pinned his ID pin to his lapel, her pert breasts pressing against him. "Mr. Kuryakin just called to ask if you had arrived!"

"Oh?" Solo purred, playing up to the wide-eyed junior as was his habit. No need to dwell on the fact that he had forgotten to leave his communicator "on" - Illya or Waverly would give him a dressing down soon enough. "And did Mr. Kuryakin leave a message?"

"Yes, sir!" Bonnie blushed a deep pink; something that happened, Napoleon noted with vague annoyance, when the icy Russian was mentioned. "He needs you in Medical right away!"

"'Medical'!?" Dread punched through Napoleon's good mood. Why would Illya be in Medical Section? What had happened-- No, if something had happened to his ornery Russian partner, Illya wouldn't have been trying to contact him himself.

""Forensics department actually, sir," Bonnie clarified quickly, sensing a faux pas.

Napoleon Solo raised an eyebrow in puzzlement. Forensics, eh? From a pleasant day to a curious day. Curiouser and curiouser indeed.

**********

Illya arched a wheaten eyebrow as his partner practically tip-toed into the autopsy lab of Medical Section, a wry smile turning his lips. It never failed to amaze the younger UNCLE agent how field agents who could take a life with cool aplomb would shy away from a corpse on an autopsy table. "You might care to wear a smock over your suit, 'Polya," he advised quietly, casting a knowing glance to Dr. Farber, the senior medical examiner, at his side.

Napoleon paled slightly, but did as he was advised. The waxen figure on the slab had yet to be "examined", but when it was...Napoleon suddenly wished he hadn't had that large portion of chicken tetrazine for lunch. "So...what happened?"

"This is - or *was*- Agent Molloy from our California branch," Dr. Farber explained, slipping into lecture mode. He circled the waxen form with an unease that Napoleon did not fail to notice - nerves around the dead by a medical examiner? Curiouser and curiouser. "He and his partner were sent to investigate local Thrush activity. A day into the mission, Agent Molloy and his partner, Pavel Volkov, were pulled over by the L.A.P.D. for speeding. Molloy was as you see him now and Volkov..."

"...Volkov was and is in a psychotic state, babbling in a relatively obscure dialect of Ukranian," Illya said, continuing the narrative.

"Babbling about what?" Napoleon questioned, his curiosity piqued.

Illya sighed aloud. "'Upir'."

"Oop-what?"

"It is a Ukrainian word for 'vampire'." Illya tilted the deceased agent's head to one side, revealing two large ragged puncture wounds...empty wounds. They did not bleed. They didn't even leak. "Even medicated, Volkov insists that they were attacked by vampires."

"Maybe Thrush is working with mutant bats again?" Napoleon ventured, aware of the chill running down his back.

Farber shrugged. "Perhaps, but in this case, besides the lack of bat DNA, the bite radius is much too large for a bat - even the ones known as Flying Foxes. That, and the body was exsanguined. One bat couldn't do that."

"And *we* are here because..?" Napoleon asked, already suspecting that he knew the answer.

"To take over Molloy and Volkov's mission," Illya replied simply. "There is already a government organization operating in the area that Molloy and Volkov were investigating -Waverly has decided that as Number One of Section Two, you may have more sway with them as it *is* their territory." Illya had picked up a wooden ruler and was slapping it against his palm. "And I have had secret training in Russia dealing with things such as this."

Napoleon regarded Illya suspiciously. "*What* things?"

Suddenly, the Russian gripped the wooden ruler hard and drove it down into the corpse's unmoving chest. Before Napoleon could react, "body" reared up with a scream, elongated fangs flashing...before exploding into a cloud of blackened ash.
Illya nonchalantly brushed at the ash covering his smock. "Vampires," he said. "I was trained in the execution of vampires."

Napoleon nodded numbly, eyes riveted on the pile of dust where a man's (man's?) body had been. "And...where are we going?"

Illya cast his partner a grim grin. "A quaint, ironically named little town not far from Los Angeles - Sunnydale."