Damn, his head hurt. Not for the first time Illya Kuryakin wondered if so many blows to his head over the course of his career would cause accumulative brain damage as he aged. He cautiously raised his hand to the side of his head to quiet the hammering in his skull and explore the lump. He could feel dried blood coating a small patch of his hair. No surprise there. He tried to sit up when a strong hand gently pushed him back down into a supine position.

"Easy, Illya, they gave you quite a nasty blow to your head." The voice rang with a bit of an echo.

Illya looked to his right to see Napoleon sitting on the rock floor next to him. A quick glance up and to the sides told the Russian that they were in a rather small cave. He looked back to Napoleon. "I'm alright," he hissed. "Napoleon, I need to sit up. The rock layer underneath me is making my back very unhappy." He started to sit up again and this time Napoleon helped him into a sitting position where he could lean against a rock wall.

"Where are we?"

"I don't know. From what I could tell they drove us for about two hours but with the damn hood over my head I couldn't see what direction we traveled."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, they left me pretty much alone, but I saw how hard they hit you. I was beginning to worry since you didn't show any sign of consciousness until now."

The agents' conversation was interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming their way. The grinding of gravel under several pairs of boots was unmistakable.

Three men dressed in the standard blue THRUSH uniforms and black berets approached. They carried the standard issue carbines with the infrared scopes. A fourth man wore an expensive gray Italian suit and highly polished black loafers that dared the dust to settle on them. The suit stepped up to the bars that adorned the open side of the rocky cell.

"Ah, I am glad to see that you have regained your senses, Kuryakin! I was afraid my men might have incapacitated you to the point that I wasn't going to be able to carry out my plan."

Solo turned as he heard his partner gasp. "Do you know this guy, Illya?" He gestured to the front of the cell.

"Of course, he knows me! That little Russian piece of shit killed my father almost ten years ago and now it's my turn to repay him."

Napoleon continued staring at his partner. Illya looked back at him.

"Napoleon, our captor is Leonard Korichnevyi."

"And…?"

"Eight years ago, to be exact, I assassinated his father by orders under the KGB. His father was part of a violent group which conspired to assassinate a high government official under Khrushchev's regime as well as the official's entire family. It was shortly before the UNCLE recruited me."

"Yes, except I go by the English translation- Leonard Brown. I moved to the states in my late teens and decided it was in my best interest to not reveal my Soviet heritage. And because of you, my mother was forced to raise a family of four children by herself. Two of whom died from starvation because she couldn't feed them on the poor payments she received working on the collective farm.

"And now I've got you where I want you, you bastard. When I learned you now work for the UNCLE I made plans to find a ways to repay you…and here you are!" He sneered.

"So you joined THRUSH to get back at my parter?" Solo asked.

"Oh no, I joined THRUSH because I believe in its mission. But through my association with THRUSH I learned of Kuryakin's whereabouts. And with the help from a few greedy individuals in your FBI I have been able to plan this little get together." He clapped his hands together and rubbed them together with glee. "I will leave you here for the next couple of days to contemplate what your future might hold. Meanwhile my guards have been instructed to withhold food and water. I have also given them permission to have their fun with you, you know… soften you up. When I return we will discuss my plans. Good day.