Man from U.N.C.L.E. Section VII

Napoleon looked across the cell as he and Illya lay there in the darkness.  There were the barest slivers of light coming through the barred window, as it was a full moon.

His head was throbbing, along with innumerable muscles aching all courtesy of the continued beatings he’d been dealt by their THRUSH hosts.

They’d stopped using their truth serums on both agents a long time ago as they had no effect...built up resistance apparently.  

Napoleon chuckled, it never occurred to them to change their formulas...lucky for he and Illya.

“You awake tovarisch?”

He heard a grunt in reply and decided to crawl over to the corner where Kuryakin had nestled himself.

As bad as Napoleon felt, once he got a good look at Illya, he knew the Russian had gotten the worst of it.

His face was crusted with dried blood, and both his eyes were swollen shut. That ever pouty lower lip was split.

Napoleon could only imagine what other damage had been done.

Why they did that, he didn’t know. Perhaps Kuryakin being slightly built made him a more vulnerable target in THRUSH’s eyes? Still, Napoleon had never met a tougher man that Illya Kuryakin.  Despite that fact, he wasn’t so sure how much longer the two of them could last if the beatings continued.

Napoleon’s head turned in the darkness to the sound of their cell door creaking open.

“Here we go again buddy,” he whispered, giving Illya’s hand a squeeze of support. “Hang tough.”

“Good Lord mates, what did you do to piss off the Thrushies now, mouth back at them again Illya?”

Mark Slate couldn’t have been a more welcome sight, and he was flanked by two other agents, Kelly and Robbins.

“You are a sight for sore eyes...literally,”Illya finally spoke, though with difficulty.

“Cor mate, they did a number on you two didn’t they? Not to worry though, April’s taken care of them for you. Can you walk?”

“With a little help,” Napoleon slowly stood while helping Kuryakin to his feet.  They each leaned on a helping shoulder and stepped from the darkness of their cell into a lit corridor.

At first the light hurt Solo’s eyes; Illya with his eyes nearly swollen shut had no need to shield them from the brightness as had Napoleon.

“Take it easy, we’ll have you out of here and under medical care in a jif,” Mark reassured them. “What did you do to warrant such a going over mates?”

“Nothing at all,” Napoleon said,” perhaps it was just because of who we are…”

“Or perhaps payback for the many times we have won and they have lost,” Illya mumbled.

Mark’s communicator chirped and he walked ahead while answering it.

“Enough palavering mates,” he said upon returning. “An ambulance is here to take you to hospital.”

“But…”Solo tried protesting.

“Not necessary,”Illya chimed in.

“Quiet you two. No arguments as I’m agent in charge and I say what goes here, got it,” Mark practically grinned.

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you?” Napoleon asked.

“Righto mate,” Slate winked.