Washington DC – Year: 2005

Although the slaughter house looked abandoned, THRUSH wasn't the sort to forget basic security. Every entrance and exit was covered by security cameras, as well as several key areas. The main difference was that these cameras were much smaller than normal and well hidden. Unfortunately for the Major Crimes team, that meant that THRUSH was aware of their escape quite soon after it had happened.

Tony and Ziva were recaptured first. Beck had jumped to the obvious conclusion that they were the most dangerous of the bunch and had overwhelmed them with the THRUSH shock troops he had. Ten to two odds weren't easy to overcome, but they had given it their best shot, injuring and killing over half of those who came at them.

McGee and Palmer didn't have even half that number. While two birdies held McGee's attention, a third slipped up behind them and put a gun to Palmer's head. With Palmer's life being threatened, McGee had no choice but to surrender. They were returned to the room they had been held in before. There they were once more tied up and hung next to a very bloody Tony and Ziva.

When the goons brought in Gibbs, Tony's only thought was for his father; Gibbs didn't look to be in much danger from his injuries. When Gibbs too was hung right back up where he'd been before, Beck demanded to know where Kuryakin was. Tony listened with great interest as the head goon told Beck not to worry, that Illya wasn't going to be a problem as he had been shot and had fallen into a muck pit. Before he could say anything else, an explosion rocked the room. "You damned fool!" Beck screamed. "Kuryakin is never to be dismissed until you have his dead body right in front of you! The man's got more lives than a damned cat! Now get back out there and find him!" Tony grinned, although it tore at the split on his lower lip. "Where is he?" Jason snarled at Gibbs.

At that question Tony laughed out loud, and even Ziva snickered. "You paralyzed his vocal chords remember? He can't answer you," Tony managed to get out. Beck's only response was another snarl.

UNCLE-NCIS-UNCLE-NCIS-UNCLE-NCIS-UNCLE-NCIS-UNCLE

Illya tightened the make shift bandage around his thigh, and checked over what supplies he had on hand. It wasn't much, although he and Jethro had managed to find where Beck had been keeping the items he'd had taken off of the team members. There was a collection of knives, most of them, but not all, courtesy of Jethro's rules. After all, he knew better than to go anywhere without a knife. He'd learned that back when he was just a child, long before Jethro made his appearance into the world. There were also the team's guns, including Ziva's special and his own. His was far older, but still more than serviceable.

Ziva had not carried many of the devices that UNCLE section 8 created, mostly because she was not exactly on a field assignment. Illya snorted to himself. Jethro's cases were a good learning ground for dealing with THRUSH and other terrorist threats. Ziva wasn't ready for this, but THRUSH did not wait until it was convenient to mess up their lives. Still, her communicator would have been a great find, if it hadn't been in pieces. His was still good, but no one monitored channel D anymore. Neither of them had carried around any explosives that day, just a set of lock picks each, injections for questioning, temporary amnesia, and unconsciousness, and a set of smoke bombs.

An explosion rocked the building and Illya's first thought was of Napoleon. It wasn't of course. It had been three years since the last time he had talked with his partner. Napoleon had been grumbling about a team of kindergartners masquerading as ATF agents. The thought of Napoleon stuck dealing with his protection assignment and seven agents who could turn into naughty children at the slightest provocation was as always amusing, but he needed to find out just who was causing all that commotion.

The second floor was full of windows overlooking vast areas of the slaughterhouse. At one time this had no doubt been a way for those in charge to keep an eye on their workers. Now it allowed Illya to witness something that he had never thought to see. Abigail was marching down the hallway leaving total mayhem in her wake. Lights were flashing, alarms were blaring, THRUSH birdies were running everywhere, and she was shooting them like they were fish in a barrel as they all paused for a split second in shock at the sight of a nearly six feet tall female Goth in a purple tutu, pig tails and floor length leather jacket marching down the hallway. "Damned fool girl is going to get herself killed," he muttered as he ran for a staircase that would bring him down behind her.

"ABIGAIL!" he thundered as he watched the last THRUSH agent fall.

"DUCKY!" she squealed, turning around and catching sight of him. She sprinted over to him and threw her arms around him. "I was so worried about you! Have you seen the others? They took everyone, even Palmer!"

"Abigail," he said sternly. "Why did you kill those men? Even kidnapping all of us is no reason for you to become a killer."

"Oh I didn't," Abby rushed to reassure him. "Ziva showed me her personal gun and there are all sorts of things that she can do with it, including lots of different kinds of ammunition, including sleep darts. So I made up a bunch in my lab while I was running computer searches to see who took you all." She held up the pistol she was carrying, and popped the clip out. "See?"

Illya took the clip and was not surprised to see a replica of the sleep darts that the UNCLE specials used. "Well then, we'd better get busy and rescue the others. You're not going to ask?" he wondered, for there was nothing as curious as Abigail when presented with a puzzle.

Abby grinned. "I figured out there was no special patient hours ago Ducky. Let's go get our people back."

A/N: There you go Duchess, Napoleon as Judge Orrin Travis of the Magnificent Seven. ;)