Chapter 4: Uh-oh, things are getting worse. Thanks for the reviews, I hope you guys are still enjoying the story :)

Their captor had sent most of his men outside to look for the file. There was only one man left to guard Napoleon and the leader himself who was standing close to Illya. If Napoleon was going to try something, now was the time. He would probably not get another opportunity. He just needed to get his hands on a gun, neutralize the leader who didn't seem to be armed, free Illya. Then, once they were free and armed, they would have a much better chance of escaping.

First, the gun. He had one pointed at his back. He needed to make sure it ended up in his hand. Suddenly, he stepped back diagonally, his back pushing the guard's gun arm away, at the same time he rammed his elbow into the man's gut. Then Solo pivoted and swung his bound arms at the guard's face. His fisted hands connected with the man's temple and he was out cold. Solo crouched to pick up the gun.

"I would strongly advise against doing that."

Solo turned around. The leader's hand was no longer empty, it was now holding a gun. At the business end of that gun was Illya's head. The Russian was rolling his eyes.

Oh come on! This was getting old.

Two guards, who had probably been posted outside the door, came in, alerted by the scuffle. They pointed their guns at Solo who raised his hands in surrender. Well that was a success…

"Getting restless, are we?", The leader said mockingly as the guards kicked the gun away from Solo. "Tie him to that armchair"

Napoleon was tied to another massive armchair much in the same way that Illya was.

"Comfortable? At least now you won't be going anywhere. That wasn't a very clever move, my friend."

"Well, you can't blame a man for trying, can you", Napoleon replied dryly.

The man gave a curt laugh. Then he suddenly spun around and, without any warning, he punched Illya in the face, hard. Before the Russian could recover, their captor delivered another couple of vicious punches to his chest.

Napoleon was stunned by the sudden outburst of violence.

"What was that for?"

"That was me actually blaming you for trying.", the man replied.

The attack had been sudden. Short, but brutal. Illya's face hurt, but the worst pain was the one in his chest. When the man had punched him, he had felt something crack and he was pretty sure that at least one of his ribs was broken. It hurt to breathe. Was Cowboy actually trying to get him killed?

Napoleon winced in sympathy at the sight of his partner's face. The first blow had caught the Russian in the nose and a trickle of blood was running from one of his nostrils. The man produced a handkerchief and pressed it to Illya's nose. He then wiped away the blood that was trickling from it.

"Here, we wouldn't want you to choke on your own blood."

As he was uttering the words, he patted Illya's chest again and was surprised by the Russian's sharp intake of breath.

"Oh, oh, what's the matter? Looks like we might have broken something. Tell me, where does it hurt? Here? Or is it here?"

Again, Illya inhaled sharply, his body tensing.

"Ah, right here." The man smiled. He gently positioned his hand on the side of Illya's chest, then he gave a sudden, vicious push to the Russian's ribs.

Illya let out a muffled cry of pain.

"What was that? I couldn't hear you." The man said, applying even more pressure to Illya's ribs.

Though it was still muffled by the tape, the Russian's groan of pain was much louder this time and it made Napoleon's gut twist. His partner's head was tilted back, his eyes screwed shut against the wave of pain. He was taking in short, jerky breaths.

The man removed his hand and when Illya finally opened his eyes, they were filled with murderous rage. Napoleon had a pretty good idea of what was going on in his partner's mind. He knew how much the Russian hated being helpless. He was probably also furious with himself for not being able to stifle his cries of pain. If Illya had not been restrained, there was a good chance that he would have already destroyed everything and everyone in the room, including Napoleon himself. In a way, Solo was actually glad that his partner couldn't speak, it would probably have made things much worse.

Napoleon's train of thought was interrupted as several men entered the room. The leader walked to the door and started talking with one of them. Napoleon could not hear what they were saying but he had a feeling that things were not about to get better for them.

What's taking you so long, Gaby? I hope you're not having tea with Waverly while your 'fiance' is getting beaten to a pulp.

Their captor was back. The cold anger in his eyes belied the pleasant smile that was still pasted on his lips. Again, Napoleon felt his pulse quicken.

"Well, it seems that we have a problem here. My men looked everywhere, searched the trees and bushes all around the house, and there was no trace of the file. So, either it spread its cardboard wings and flew away to warmer regions, or… you lied."

Napoleon remained silent.

The trees and bushes all around the house? And they had found nothing. Now that was a surprising twist. One he could have done without.

The man interpreted his silence as a confession.

"This is very unfortunate. I warned you that there would be consequences if you lied to me. Now my patience is wearing thin and I will need to report to my superiors at some point. So we're going to play one last game together." The man took his gun out and started pacing. "The rules are fairly simple. You tell me the actual, exact location of the file or I shoot our big blond friend. Not a lethal shot of course, that would be too easy. If you hesitate too long, I shoot him. Every time you lie, I shoot him. You get to choose where the bullet goes, though. So let's try this again. Where did you hide the file?"

Napoleon didn't know what to do. Was it wise to send them on another wild-goose chase? They would be expecting it and when they found out, this could have terrible consequences for Illya. He decided to stick to his partially true version for now.

"I told you I dropped it in the bushes around the house"

"Please be reasonable. If it was there, my men would have found it."

"Well maybe your men are just not good at finding things. If you would just untie me and let me show you the exact location…"

"So that you can try and escape again. No, this is a terrible idea, you need to talk, now."

Napoleon was getting tired of the man's games.

"I already told you where it is I have nothing else to say."

The man stopped pacing and positioned himself in front of Illya.

"Ah. Maybe we should do a practice round then. So where should the first bullet go?"

The gun was hovering in front of the Russian's body as if the man was trying to decide where to aim.

"Tell me, what is it going to be? His leg? His foot?" Napoleon saw Illya's gaze follow the muzzle of the gun as it moved up. "Maybe his shoulder? Or I could shoot one of his fingers off, what do you think?"

Was the man serious? Was he actually going to shoot Illya until Napoleon told him what he wanted to know?

"Listen, you don't have to do that…", Napoleon began.

"Oh but I do. And I must admit I am rather enjoying it. Now either you decide where the first bullet goes or I'll do it for you. The kneecap is one of my personal favorites."

Napoleon was out of options. The man was crazy. He looked at his partner, trying to decide where a bullet would do the least damage. Ear is too close to his head, shoulder too close to his heart and lungs, fingers, hands and feet could mean crippling damage...He couldn't make that kind of choice. This was crazy.

If you're planning on rescuing us, now would be an excellent time, Gaby!

"I'm waiting!"

"In the forearm", Napoleon muttered.

"Speak up I can't hear you.", He smiled cruelly. "Your partner can't hear you."

"In the forearm, shoot him in the left forearm", Napoleon repeated, reluctantly raising his voice. He was feeling sick. He saw Illya's eyes widen as the man moved to position himself behind the chair.

I'm sorry Illya…

End of chapter 4