Illya Kuryakin was barely conscious as he was thrown back into the bare concrete cell, which had been his home for almost four days. The room was a soulless box, with a small aperture at head height, which was open to the elements. The size of the hole, and the solid steel door, meant that Illya couldn't go anywhere. Not that he had the wherewithal to try. The moment he had been brought to the facility, he had been stripped of his clothes, and his equipment. All he had protecting his dignity was the pair of white underpants he had been given. The only furnishings the cell were a rudimentary lavatory, a hand basin, and a thin mattress.
Whenever he wasn't in the cell, Illya was subjected to the many and varied persuasion techniques that his Thrush captor could devise. Everything from beatings, to electrics, to drugs had been employed, but Illya had kept his information to himself.
Until today.
Illya had finally given up his secrets.
Several minutes passed before Illya began to recover a little, and was able to drag himself to the mattress. His body and face were a mass of burns, cuts, and bruises. The whole of the left side of his face was swollen, forcing his eye to close up. Getting himself into a sitting position, Illya gently leant back against the wall. The cold concrete against the burning whip marks made him hiss sharply. Rubbing the back of his neck, Illya located the embedded distress beacon, which was just behind his ear, and pressed it into life. As exhaustion hit him once again, he closed the other eye in an attempt to rest.
His repose was interrupted about thirty minutes later by what sounded like the mewling of a kitten. Looking around the cell with his good eye, he quickly found the source of the sound. It was indeed a kitten, and it was sitting in the aperture. It was black and white, with eyes that almost matched Illya's own.
"How did you get up there little one?" he asked.
It took him a long time, and a great deal of effort, but he eventually managed to get to his feet. For the first time since his arrival Illya looked out through it. He discovered he was on the ground floor of the facility, and that there was nothing but trees outside. The kitten had obviously climbed up the nearest tree, which was impressive in itself, given how tiny the creature was. With a gentleness which belied his large hands, Illya carefully lifted the kitten down.
Sitting back down on the mattress, he cupped the kitten in one hand and ticked it behind the ears. A slight smile appeared on Illya's face as the animal responded to the tickles by rubbing its head against his hand.
"I don't know where you came from," he said softly, "But I am glad to have you here. It has been a difficult few days. Would you like to hear about it?"
Naturally, the kitten didn't answer, but Illya continued anyway.
"Before I start, you need a name," he told the creature. "Given the situation, I think Ulovka would be suitable."
Sighing deeply, Illya recounted the tale of the previous four days, then went on to tell the kitten all the things he had told Thrush.
"I have given up the locations and assignments of several agents, including Napoleon. I told them Mr Waverly's movements for the next seven days. I even gave them several security codes."
Before he could elaborate any further, the sound of the door opening drew his attention. Lifting his head, Illya found himself looking into the face of his partner.
"The beacon worked then," he stated, his face entirely emotionless.
"Yes," Napoleon confirmed. "Agents are in the process of cleaning up. I was told something very distressing by your captor, however. Do you know what he said?"
"I am sure you are about to tell me," Illya replied, curtly.
"Apparently, you've been singing like a canary," Solo said, sternly. "You have betrayed the Command repeatedly by giving away classified information. What's more, everything you told them is already at Thrush Central. Is that true?"
"Yes," Illya told him simply.
The two men stared at one another for several seconds before a broad grin appeared on Napoleon's face.
"Well done, Tovarisch," Napoleon said in praise. "All the misinformation you have given them will keep them busy for some time, and we should be able to pick a fair few birdies up. Why did you wait so long though? We've been waiting for days."
"It had to be convincing," Illya explained, holding out a hand for Napoleon to help him up. "I am known by thrush as a man who can hold out for a long time. If I had started talking any earlier, it could have seemed suspicious."
"I understand," Solo acknowledged as he pulled Illya to his feet, and offered him his jacket. "Why are you holding a ball of fluff?"
Illya held the kitten up and explained where he had come from.
"This is Ulovka," he told his partner. "I named him in honour of the mission."
Napoleon paused as he mentally translated the name.
"Trick," he said. "A good name indeed. Come on. Let's get the two of you home."