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By this point in the TRUSH interrogation, Napoleon was bored. Oh so bored.
He hurt from the beatings and burns, terribly thirsty, very hungry, and very annoyed.
“Well Herr Solo, apparently you are a tough nut to crack,” said the German doctor who had been hovering around the periphery.
Napoleon tried to get enough spit to reply and realized he had none to use. He went for his paten glare to try to frighten the man. No such luck.
The doctor took a handful of hair and made Napoleon look into the doctor’s cold dead eyes.
“Now they have given you to me. What shall we do?”
Napoleon wished he could gather enough saliva to spit in the face leering at him.
The Doctor threw his head one way and then the other.
“Take him to the tank. He needs to cool off for a bit.”
The chains were unlocked from the chair and locked. There was no time to resist nor did he have the energy.
They dragged him to another room that had a large tank of water. He fought as they stripped him naked. He got one of the goons in the knee and was beaten down to the floor. They put a blindfold on him and earplugs in his ears then a hood over that. They put a covering over his hands and feet. Last they put what felt like trunks, but he soon realized they had put him into an adult diaper as well. They tipped him back into some sort of a sling that raised him to the top of the tank then over the tank. He had a rebreather forced into his mouth then he was lowered slowly into the water. The sling was removed, and he found himself floating in the tank. The water was very warm like a liquid blanket.
He just floated and pondered but the longer he was in the tank, the harder it was to think. He decided sleep might help him since he has been denied it so far. He floated to sleep and woke up to nothing. He couldn’t feel. He couldn’t hear or see. He tried to move but couldn’t. Even the rebreather was not making noise but he could feel that he was getting consistent oxygen.
He started to panic and tried to calm himself down. But it was so hard because he had nothing to latch onto.
His brain came up with all kinds of scenarios. Without data they were just scenarios.
He felt something touch him and he felt like he nearly jumped out of his skin.
He could feel the pull on his body then his body touched cold metal. His hands were locked in front of him and the mask was removed along with the ear plugs.
“Mr. Solo, ready to tell us where the Indian UNCLE office has relocated?”
He shook his head in the negative. Quickly everything was put back on him. They changed his trunks. Then he was slid into the water.
This seemed to go on forever, but it could be every hour for all he knew. They would pull him out, ask him that one question and, when he refused, back into the tank.
He felt his mind start to disconnect from his body as he couldn’t feel it. He giggled or he thought he had giggled. It was hard to tell. He tried to keep himself on this side of sanity, but he could feel he was losing his grip. He started singing to himself because that he could feel in his chest.
He had just finished what he thought was a pretty good rendition of “Moon river” when he was yanked from the tank and pulled onto the gangway.
The hood was taken off then the earplugs then the blindfold. He closed his eyes and moaned. Too much information was pouring over him. The mitts were removed, and he could finally feel his fingers move.
“He’s alive,” said a very familiar voice…he should give a name to it like…David
“Napoleon, it’s Illya. Nod if you can hear me.”
Napolean, to be contrite, shook his head no.
“Stubborn American. Can you open your eyes for me?”
Illya, he knew he could for Illya. He opened his eyes to see the face of his partner looked at him with so much fear and pity.
He cleared his throat and said, “I didn’t tell them. They kept asking and I didn’t say a word.”
“What did they want to know?”
Napoleon raised his finger to his lips and said, “Shhhh Secret Spy Stuff.”
“Napoleon you are being very…silly.”
Napoleon started singing ‘Fly me to the Moon’
“I am sorry Mr. Waverly, I think that is all we are going to get from him right now.”
“Let’s get him back to the infirmary and see what they can do.”
“Yes, sir,” replied Illya.
“Hey Illya,” Napoleon said in a sing song voice.
“What?”
Napoleon punched him in the arm and said, “Tag, you’re it.”