Illya winced. His head was throbbing. He couldn't remember anything but that damn puppy. His arms were bound to his side at the elbow and behind his back at the wrists. His ankles were bound. There was a blindfold on his face and as far as he could feel, he was naked. He rolled to the side to be met with a loud clang. It appeared also that he was in a cage. Now he would have to wait for Solo to rescue him. Again. How embarrassing. He licked his lips and realised he was not gagged. He shouted for help for three hours before his voice was hoarse. He lay on the ground trying to keep warm listening, waiting.

"You want me to send out an urgent apprehension order to all agents for a pretty blonde English girl between the ages of 17 and 25." Alexander Waverly was usually a patient man but this was not a usual day. Napoleon nodded weakly, "yes sir." He slammed his pipe on the table making Napoleon jump and scattering shreds of tobacco across the table. "Damn it. Agent Kuryakin was one of our top men and you, another top agent, sent him after a puppy for a pretty girl!" Napoleon slowly got out of his chair, "I'll find him, sir." Waverly swept the tobacco off the table into his open palm, "You'd better, Mr Solo. there's no telling what these mad dogs will do to an U.N.C.L.E. agent... if Mr Kuryakin is still alive."

Illya lay awake in darkness. He assumed it must be night but with the blindfold it was hard to be certain, "Is anyone there?" he croaked. No reply. He shivered and wished for his clothes. A door creaked open. "Hello? I believe there has been a grave misunderstanding. I was helping a young woman find her puppy when..." He was silenced by a boot to the gut. He coughed and remained quiet. He was wrenched into a sitting position on a wooden chair. He could feel the grain of the wood beneath his legs. Suddenly there was a rush of steam and he smelt food. Roast beef and vegetables. His mouth watered but he couldn't eat it, what if it was drugged or poisoned? He felt a spoon of warm food pressed to his lips. He turned his head away. He received a hard slap across the face for his troubles. He accepted the next mouthful gingerly then spat it to the side with as much force as he could muster. He was knocked from the chair. He couldn't tell what was hitting him but it felt almost like a cane of bamboo. Thin, very flexible. He could hear the swish as it sailed through the air before the quick sting followed by a slow burn from his tender flesh. He felt the skin split, blood trickled down his back forming a small puddle on the floor. Every time he turned away or spat the food out, he was beaten, each incidence growing in duration and ferocity. Finally he was yanked to his feet and pushed forward. He could only shuffle in his bonds. His feet touched cold tiles. He was pushed roughly down on cold ceramic bowl, it was a toilet. "A little privacy?" The next backhand caused him to taste blood. He used the toilet facilities reluctantly, he was dragged to his feet once more, pushed against the cold damp stone walls. He yelped when cold water hit his body, he was being hosed down like an animal. Illya hung his head in shame and was shoved back into his cage.