A New Hope Fails

The passageway was old, very old. Huge gothic arches spaced along it built of polished dark wood. Tapestries depicting scenes from ancient battles hung along the walls. Doorways spaced evenly along its length, small wooden cupboards stood sentinel outside of each doorway. A strip of deep red carpet ran precisely down the middle of the dark stone floor. What disturbed Illya most were that the huge tapestries that hung along the walls had something subtle about them; it drew his eye. Each one contained scenes of battles and in each where naked men engaged in some disturbingly intimate and sensual acts with each other. More so they were all engaged in various forms of sex during the violent savagery of battle.

A small shiver ran down his spine as Napoleon walked along side of him. It wasn't the cold, as the whole place was rather surprisingly warm. It was the idea that he was only clad in a breechclout and had no idea why he had let Napoleon convince him that it was a good idea. "Are you really sure this is what I'm meant to be wearing to this meeting?" Illya asked.

"Definitely, all acolytes are required to wear them, besides you look good in it." Napoleon quipped back.

"Well, it could have been a couple of inches longer" Illya mumbled to himself.

"They are usually long enough, maybe this one is a little shrunk, but I don't think so." Napoleon replied with a cheeky smile on his face. "Remember inamorato you're going to be initiated into the order, just do as you are told and you should be fine. Remember speak only when you are commanded to and avert your eyes, look no one in the face, particularly the zealots. I'm sure you will endure where others have failed."

The two young men had walked down what seemed miles of corridors and stair cases finally they turned a corner and came to set of large heavy wooden doors. Flanking each side were two large muscular men, clothed in black leather hoods, studded jockstraps and full body harnesses. As Napoleon and Illya approached the two colossus step to the side and opened the doors. Beyond the doors was a small chamber like room stark and bare. As the Napoleon and Illya went to enter, one of the massive men held Napoleon back allowing Illya to enter the room first. As he walked through the large doors they were closed behind him with an ominous thud plunging him into complete darkness.

Illya froze; he couldn't even see his hand on front of his face. Carefully he started to walk forward, hands out in front of himself. As his hands came up against the wall it gave way swinging opening to reveal a dimly illuminated circular room. Large candles held in heavy iron wall sconces were hung around the room. Illya noticed figures in dark hooded robes standing around the edge of the room. As he cross the threshold two of the figures stepped forward and set alight two large brands on large metal staves either side of what could not be mistaken for anything other than an altar, draped in black cloth it stood in the center of the room. Remembering to keep is eyes downcast, Illya stopped and one of them, dressed in a deep blood red robe stepped to the front of the altar.

"You have been bought here seeking to serve the order. Before you can be found worthy, you must undergo a period of training and initiation so that you can take your place in the Hierarchy, as such you are to loose your identity," he gestured and two figures in simple black robes walked up with an elaborate full leather hood, zippers and flaps covered the eye sockets and mouth. Illya was slightly worried as he realized it was the same type of hood that the young man had been wearing earlier in Napoleon's room. The two held Illya as they fitted it tightly over his head, locking it into place with a thick strap and padlocks around his neck. "The freedom you once had is to be bound to the order." He gestured again and the robed Zealots fixed thick leather manacles around both Illya's wrists and ankles. The red robed man gestured again, "Take this worthless slave from our presence it will await our summons in the pens."

The zealots took hold of Illya's arms and lead him across the chamber to a set of stairs that he had not noticed before as the simply dropped down through the stone floor behind the altar. Torches spaced regularly down the spiral stairs lit the way giving Illya an eerie feeling of entering a dungeon. Eventually the stairs finished and it was apparent that the eerie feeling he had been having was confirmed. Before him were a number of small cages, pens in fact, made of thick heavy iron bars. In a number of them stood, sat or lay young men similarly attired as he, hooded masks and manacles. The two Zealots roughly pushed Illya up against the bars of the cell and fixed in place the mouth piece of his hood. It was more than just a mouth piece, it was a solid lump of leather that forced it's way between his teeth and gagged him, they locked into place and then he was thrown into the pen and the heavy barred door was slammed shut behind him.

Illya lay there for a moment trying to take in what had just happened to him. He looked around at his fellow prisoners; some were in far worse shape than he initially noticed. A couple of them had innumerable large cuts and welts all over their bodies. Others lay there covered in filth and sweat, shivering on the cold hard stone floor. What hole of hell had he been sent to he wondered. The realization that there was little, if any hope of rescue or escape slammed its way into his shocked mind. He lay there numb, shock and cold sapping his strength. What was he to do; this was not going as he had planned in anyway, shape or size.

---

This page is an unofficial site that exists only for the fun of it. All characters and situations from the television show "The Man from U.N.C.L.E." are property of Norman Felton and Warner Bros. Nothing ill is intended by this use of any television characters in these amateur efforts. Any fiction linked to these pages is the intellectual property of the amateur author who created it and is not presented here for profit.