Napoleon and Illya were shoved at gunpoint into the palatial room and forced to their knees before Otto Vanderfeld himself, he was head of a small satrapy located near the Georgia border. Dressed in regal refinery, he looked the ruler the THRUSH agent believed himself to be.

The rotund man was sat in what could only be described as a throne, resplendent in gold leaf and red velvet, which stood upon a marble dais. Two scantily clad women stood near by, one on either side of him; their thin pale blue and gold sari's stirring in a light breeze.

A burly guard was positioned behind the trio, while two more, the ones who'd brought Solo and Kuryakin in, positioned themselves infront the great ornately carved and gilded double doors they'd entered through.

"Well, what have we here? The great Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin, I see. Not so great now are we?" Otto drawled with sarcasm.

"Oh, I don't know, I feel pretty great here at the moment, I'm well fed and rested and in the presence of some beautiful women," Napoleon smiled, then looked toward his partner, "how about you?"

"I always feel great after a nice long nap, I must remember to thank your guards for helping us to sleep."

"You'll be sorry for being so flippant," he snarled, then looked thoughtful for a minute, "let me show you something."

Vanderfeld signalled to someone through an open door to his right.

"Bring her to me, now," he barked, then looked back towards the two agents, "I'll introduce you to my new pet, you see I need to continue her training, she needs to know her place."

"I didn't take you for the sort who liked pets," Solo stated.

"Ahh, but she's no ordinary pet," Otto said with glee.

A low throaty growl, followed by some harshly spoken commands and the sound of a whip being cracked, emanated from the room before it went silent.

"I'll show you how I deal with animals who do not respect me; I have been training this subject for the last two weeks. Very stubborn this one, she's been difficult to crack," he smirked, evidently pleased with himself, "but I do like a good challenge, and she will be very special to me, once her training is complete."

Solo turned his attention away from the door to look across to Illya, eyebrow raised in query; the Russian shrugged, he had no idea what was in that room either.

The American saw his partner stiffen slightly at whatever had entered. Illya's eyes turned to steel, his jaw muscles clenched and his breathing quickened; signals so slight that only Napoleon noticed them and knew immediately that something was very wrong. He turned to see whatever had come through and struggled to keep his own expression neutral at what he saw.