Napoleon and Illya were in trouble, at least that's how it looked. They'd fallen into a trap, were captured and were now being sent to prison on some trumped up charges.

Trouble was, it wasn't any ordinary prison. Set in the middle of the Amazon; it was a hell hole. No one ever escaped, nor was released from it. Incarceration was a life sentence no matter what the crime...life depended upon how long one survived. The place was nicknamed 'El fin del mundo'...the end of the world.

Still it was exactly where they wanted to be. Their mission was to rescue a noted physician and researcher, Doctor Evgeny Bloom. His treatment of tropical diseases showed promise, until one of cures failed and the daughter of the ruling Generalissimo died. Bloom was lucky he hadn't been executed on the spot. Instead he was sent to prison, there to rot...if he lived that long.

U.N.C.L.E. wanted him rescued, as the man's medical research regarding tropical diseases showed great promise. The world couldn't be deprived of such genius.

Solo and Kuryakin dressed in dingy grey, cotton pajama-like uniforms though they were permitted to keep their own boots, stood waiting in front of a gate, surrounded by jungle. Once the doors opened, they were prodded by the guards into a sizeable yard with by walls too high to scale. There were guard towers at each of the corners.

Prisoners dressed similarly though, more tattered and dirty than anything, milled about, studying the fresh meat that had just walked in.

One of them, a hulking man whose muscular biceps were covered in primitive tattoos approached Kuryakin. He must have figured the slight man was an easy target, but for what, Illya had no idea. Murder, mayhem...rape, it could be anything.

"Que lindo. Hola pretty boy. You will come stay with me in my cell, sí?"

That answered Illya's question.

"Like hell I will." The Russian backed away, glancing to his partner for help.

"You have no choice, you are mine now. Come, we go now. I want sex."

Napoleon stepped between the two."No. He's mine so lay off or you'll regret it."

The big man threw his head back, laughing loudly.

"And who is going to stop me, you señor?" He chuckled."I like his pretty hair. He will be my bitch now."

Without warning, Napoleon drew back his fist, slamming it into the man's solar plexus.

It did nothing.

With a deep grunt, he hit Solo with his fist, knocking him to the ground, laughing as he did so.

"That was pathetic gringo!"

Napoleon drove his foot upwards, connecting with the man's groin, striking as hard as he could.

The jolly green giant's eyes crossed as his hands went to his crotch, as if that would help. Solo jumped to his feet, hitting right under the chin with a right uppercut, a karate chop to the neck just for good measure. That sent him to the floor where he curled up in a fetal position, barely conscious.

"Anyone else care for a try?" Napoleon barked to the rest of the prisoners."This one," he pointed at Illya," is mine. If any of you bother him, you'll pay...and he won't be as gentle as I was."

He stepped around the fallen man, with Illya close at his heels.

"You know tovarisch, you could have jumped in at any time," he whispered out of the side of his mouth.

"You were doing quite well on your own and besides, better not no show our full hand. They know what you are capable of, but I am an unknown and therefore they will think twice before, as you said, bothering me."

They headed to their cell, checking out the accommodations. Dirty straw filled mattresses in wooden bunk beds, a brown mouse scampered across the floor, disappearing through a small hole in the wall.

There was a bucket to use as a toilet, that looked like it hadn't been cleaned in a long time with flies buzzing around it.

"I remember when we were last incarcerated in a prison," Illya commented. "There were rats, at least...a good source of protein. Speaking of food; I wonder when we will be fed?"

"We're stuck in this hell hole and all you can think about is that stomach of yours?"

"Until we find Doctor Bloom, there is little else to think about, that and keep from being killed. We must survey our prison to find a means of escape, but I think it is not wise to be seen wandering just yet."

"Agreed. We need to watch the guards for their routines, though they didn't seem interested in breaking up my little fight back there."

"Napoleon I suspect they only care about prisoners not escaping. What we do to each other in here is most likely a source of amusement to them and nothing more."

Solo cocked an eyebrow, suspecting his partner was correct in his observation.

They fell into the routine of the prison, breakfast...if you could call it that was served before sun up and consisted of a watery gruel. Midday meal wasn't quite as timely and was usually a thin broth accompanied by bread.

Dinner was around six in the evening. More rice, beans and bread, but this time fruit, which was abundant in the area, was at least a nourishing addition Coffee was plentiful as well.

Once a week there was meat with the main meal, though as to what kind of meat was anyone's best guess. Most said it was monkey. Napoleon passed on that. All in all, it wasn't the worst food they'd ever had while imprisoned….

That day meat was served was deemed Sunday as there were no calendars to keep track. The men who maintained any sort of religious belief held prayers services on that day.

Enough time had passed enabling the agents to see a pattern in the changing of the guards. There was one entrance to the yard that seemed to be unprotected as watch towers looked down from each corner. Napoleon discovered a blind spot that would work to their advantage. One could stand right in front of the door and not be seen.

The towers changed shifts every four hours and there was a fifteen minute window where the guards were distracted while switching out.

Illya, speaking to some of the older prisoners at meal time asked what one did if you became sick or injured.

"You go see el Judio of course, señor, " a toothless old man whispered.

"And where is this man?"

"Block C. The first cell on the left."

"The guards do not stop him from helping the prisoners?"

"Why should they care? If we live we live and if we die, then there is less of us for them to watch." There was a sense of resignation in the man's voice.

The prisoners did nothing but mill about all day, some playing chess with makeshift pieces and boards they'd made from bits and bobs, or playing card games with ones they'd fabricated. There was no mail, no contact with the outside world...these men simply no longer existed or mattered to anyone.

Boredom made for an edginess, that made for short tempers which led to fights, which happened on a regular basis.

Men would encircle those doing battle, making bets on who would live or die. The fights were over when one man died or was near death. The winnings were usually food, and cigarettes that some traded favors for with certain guards.

Solo and Kuryakin had managed to avoid any of that sort of trouble. They'd established themselves as bad asses and that was enough for people to stay away from them, for now.

It was the weak, and weak minded who engaged in these fights for sport...

The agents made their way to C block, finding a thin, white haired man sitting at his bunk, going through packets of dried leaves and seeds. Apparently some of the guards brought them to the man, having a modicum of sympathy for him. His cures had helped some of their family members.

"Dr. Bloom?" Napoleon asked as he stepped into the cell, followed by the Russian. They were a bit of a sight, fitting right in with the other prisoners as they were unwashed, and their beards had gone unshaven.

"Yes, what troubles you?"

"My name is Napoleon Solo and this is my partner….

"I'm sorry but I have no cures for venereal diseases. I suggest you use these, though it is after the fact perhaps," he held out what looked like animal intestines fashioned into condoms.

Solo cleared his throat, taken somewhat off guard by that intimation. "No we're from an organization called the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement. We're here to rescue you."

"And what proof do I have that you are who you say you are?"

Illya who had remained silent thus far, spoke up in Russian.

"Menya zovut Il'ya Kuryakin...my name is Illya Kuryakin, I am an agent of GRU on loan to U.N.C.L.E. You remember GRU do you not, and your father's duty to it. He gave his life serving the Soviet people."

He'd read the doctor's biography prior to the mission, taking note his parents were Russian, and Illya therefore presumed the man spoke the language. Dr. Bloom's father, an agent for the GRU had been killed in the line of duty.

"Da...I remember. So you a Russian and you an American are here to get me out of this hell? I am sorry to tell you gentlemen that I cannot leave. I cannot abandon the poor souls here to this abysmal place. I give them their only medical care."

"Oh boy," Napoleon mumbled. He turned to his partner, and the two spoke in hushed voices.

"What if we told you we could get as many people possible out of here along with you?"

"I am all ears Mr. Solo," Bloom smiled.