The Paris Death Match

S01E21

There's another henchman ready to tangle with her. She drops him in a flash, grabs Druggy again, and they scramble out of the club. Spy Daddy squeals up in his "Save The Sydney" car just as they're exiting and yells at them to get in. Syd's all, HE CAME HERE WITH YOU?! Spy Daddy screams, "Get down!" and shoots one of Khasinau's men dead.

In the car, Spy Daddy calls someone and requests a full identity switch and cover escort. Syd's all, what the hell is he doing here? Spy Daddy's all, let's discuss this later, okay? Syd's all, DUDE. Willage is all, look at the pretty pictures!

Then Spy Daddy, Syd, and Willage enter a warehouse or something. Spy Daddy tells some little French guy that Willage has no field experience and that he needs a makeover. "Go with him," gasps Syd. "It's okay." "Which part of this is 'okay'?" panics Willage. Hee. French Guy pulls Willage into a small room and orders him to take off his clothes.

Wendy Kroy: You know, that should really be a required scene in every episode.
Regina: I'm sayin'.
Wendy Kroy: Like, Willage should be at the newspaper, just sitting at his desk and, like, some random guy should enter and tell him to take off his clothes.
Regina: Oh, yeah. Bradley Cooper should do all of season in his underwear.
Wendy Kroy: Do you think they'll do that? Can they do that?
Regina: They can if they bring me on as a costume consultant.
Wendy Kroy: Oh, totally. Can I be your assistant?
Regina: Of course, sweetie.
Wendy Kroy: Can I be Bradley Cooper's dresser?
Regina: Don't press your luck.

French Guy shuts the door as Sydney looks on. He tells Willage to pay attention. Willage starts taking off his clothes as French Guy gives Willage his new identity information. I'd like to state, for the record, that I have no idea what information French Guy gave Willage, because I was far too interested in freeze-framing Bradley Cooper in his underwear. Who gives a damn about Willage's new identity? Not me. Pause. Rewind. Play. Heh. Heh heh. Nice boxers, Bradley. Pause. Rewind. Play. Freeze. Sigh.

Right. So, outside The Room Of Half-Naked Bradley, Syd's bitching at Spy Daddy about bringing Willage into this whole mess. Spy Daddy's all, look, sister, I've been consistently saving this moron's ass, okay? Don't give me any more grief than I've already received, all right? Pause. Rewind. Play. Freeze. Sigh. Excuse me. Uh. Anyway. Spy Daddy fills Syd in on the whole Deep Throat thing and how someone from inside the CIA or SD-6 is onto them. Syd's all, dude? No one from intelligence was inside that club tonight. The people who were interrogating Willage were Khasinau's, okay? Spy Daddy thinks about this for all of two seconds and comes to the conclusion that Khasinau wants to bring down SD-6. Since he failed with Shovelhead, he turned to Willage and the press. Syd's all, this doesn't change the fact that you were using Will! Spy Daddy's all, oh, what-EVER. He was already being used, okay? And, like, could we just end this conversation and get on with the rest of the damn show already? This is like watching my grandmother paint the basement -- it's boring, goes on for far too long, and has no purpose.

Okay, so Dixon's still got the kids at gunpoint. He looks over at Sydney and seems to kind of sort of recognize her. Agent Action instructs his gun lackey to rush on over and get Syd's back with cover fire, but not to hurt her, because he wants to get to know her in the biblical sense at some point in the near future and that would be really difficult to do if she were, you know, dead. Agent Action runs off in pursuit of his non-girlfriend.

Dixon's sort of just standing there, saying nothing but carrying a big gun. Agent Action appears above the courtyard and tosses a smoke bomb down into the fray. Sark makes a break for it as Syd informs Agent Action that Sark has the real Rambaldi ampoule. Agent Action's all, I'm on it! Finally! I get to do something other than sharpen pencils and trade quips with Agent Sean.

Syd runs off as Dixon chases. Sark runs off as Agent Action chases. And we're chasing and we're chasing. Dixon traps Syd in front of a fence and tells her to freeze. Meanwhile, at another fence across the wilds of Denpasar, Agent Action flexes his muscles and lands on the fleeing Sark. Back with Dix and Syd, Dix moves in to frisk and cuff Syd, but she puts an end to that by kicking his ass with a little jujitsu.

As Agent Action's cuffing Sark to the fence, he gets on the horn and asks Spy Barbie if she's at the extraction point yet. She's too busy kicking Dixon's ass to answer. Agent Action nabs the real ampoule and talks to Agent Sean about the extraction and the ampoule and where in the HELL is Sydney. Agent Sean tells Agent Action to not leave Sark until he's secured. Agent Action's still too hot for Sydney to actually pay attention to these instructions.

And Sydney's still too busy kicking Dixon's ass to get to the extraction point. Dixon manages to get in a good swift slice with his knife, splitting wide a small portion of Syd's upper arm. He knocks her down, grabs his gun, and pretends that he's gonna shoot her dead just so we can all go, "No! It's Sydney! Don't you recognize her eyes?!" Agent Action shows up just in time to knock Dix down with the butt of his gun, thereby saving Syd's drawing-room-curtained ass.

He yells at her to go. She goes. So does he. Unfortunately, his jones for Sydney's bod has given Sark the opportunity to escape. Bad Vaughn! Bad boy! You must now strip for Daddy and recite Shakespearean sonnets in French. Do it! Or Daddy will get angry and beat you.

Regina: Get your HANDS off the keyboard, dude. Seriously.

Wendy Kroy: I couldn't resist.
Regina: Well, try. And stop ashing on my floor! There are, conservatively, NINE HUNDRED ASHTRAYS in this domicile. Find one.
Wendy Kroy: But if I ash in an ashtray, Julio won't come in and bend over and sweep up my ashes while wearing those precious little cut-off Sergio Valente jean shorts.
Regina: Why did I invite you over? WHY?
Wendy Kroy: Because, deep down, you want to be a snazzily dressed gay man with a biting wit.
Regina: Dude. For all intents and purposes, I AM a snazzily dressed gay man with a biting wit.
Wendy Kroy: Excellent point. Julio! Daddy needs another cocktail! And bring the dustpan. Daddy's had an accident.
Regina: Honey? You're one sick puppy.
Wendy Kroy: Thank you, sweetie. I love you too.

Back in Hell-Lay…Lois Lame's at a payphone somewhere. It rings. He picks up. Deep Throat wants to know why Lois hasn't published his story yet. Lois says he needs something first. In our regular mini-flashback, Spy Daddy's telling Lois precisely what he needs to do in order to set up the meet-and-greet with Deep Throat. Lois wants to know why in the hell Deep Throat would agree to meet with him if there's a possibility that Deep Throat knows Spy Daddy wants to flush him out.

Blah blah blah, Deep Throat just gave Willage Spy Daddy's name so he'd know that Spy Daddy wasn't a threat. Bling blam blooey, Deep Throat never expected Willage to have the guts to actually contact Spy Daddy. Flim fling flotsam, Willage will take that as a compliment. Yawn.

Spy Daddy's all, okay, tell this idiot that you know about "The Circumference." Willage is all, what in the HELL is "The Circumference"? Spy Daddy's all, dude, you don't need to know, okay? Just tell him that you know about it. J.J. Abrams is all, "The Circumference" doesn't mean shit, okay? It's just a stupid plot device that probably won't even reappear until season. I'm all, dude? Can we get on with this? I have to go get my hair cut.

Back on the payphone, Willage gives Deep Throat the ultimatum of shit or get off the pot. Meet with him or forget the whole damn thing. Deep Throat agrees to the meeting and tells Willage that he'll be contacted in the near future with details and instructions.

London. Land of Hugh Grant and The Women Who Won't Go Out With Him. We're at a meeting of The Alliance. This whole scene is one big BLAH BLAH BLAH. Uncle Arvin wants leniency for Auntie Em. The Alliance isn't really into that idea. Uncle Arvin starts spewing something about all the secrets he knows about SD-6. The Head Alliance guy cuts him off and mentions the assassination of Arvin's buddy, Jean. Arvin's all, you guys all knew about Double-Oh-Geritol and his connection with Khasinau, didn't ya? DIDN'T YA?!

[Side note: I've been spelling Khasinau's name all wrong, kids. This was thankfully pointed out to me by the ever-observant pseudostudent. The first couple of times that Khasinau appeared, however, his character wasn't credited on IMDB, so I had no point of reference to which I could turn. For the sake of Sars's sanity, however, I won't be going back to all the other recaps and replacing his name. Suffice it to say, the man's name is spelled "Khasinau." I know this now. You know this now. Let's all move on.]

More blah blah blah. Yeah, they knew. Yeah, Double-Oh-Geritol has been "retired." Uncle Arvin's over in the corner eating crow. The Alliance is prepared to engage in a full-on war with Khasinau. Arvin's cool with that. But The Alliance doesn't want Khasinau assassinated, and instructs Arvin to avoid offing Khasinau in the near future and just bring The Alliance some juicy intel. If Arvin does as they say, Auntie Em may be allowed to die in peace. Or as peacefully as one who is dying of cancer can.

Headquarters Of Double-Agents And The SD-6 Agents They're Lying To. Syd enters and walks over to her desk. She nonchalantly greets Dixon, who is SO onto her. He asks how her vacation was. She says it was perfect. There's some back-and-forth about the "decompressing" that Syd got into out in the desert. Bo-ring.

Dix informs Syd that SD-6 has reacquired Khasinau's trail. Syd looks absolutely amazed. Dix blah-blahs about nabbing Sark in Denpasar and the whole "second ampoule" storyline. Syd wants to know if they got the second ampoule. Nope. Sark didn't have it on him. But then again, we already knew that. Syd appears to think about this REALLY HARD, while Dixon just looks at her like she's wearing a bright pink satin cape and a costume emblazoned with the words "DOUBLE AGENT GIRL."

Slightly uncomfortably, Syd moves away, saying she's gonna catch up on what she's missed while she was away. Before she can get too far, however, Dix stops her and tells her that he did, indeed, miss her. There is a doublespeak aspect to this statement since, if I'm assuming correctly, Dixon DID miss Sydney in Denpasar. She got away. And, if Dixon is really onto Syd, he didn't just miss her while she was away -- HE MISSED HER. Get it? No, really -- do ya get it?

Syd turns, and some random guy knocks into her arm. You know, the arm that Dixon sliced back in Denpasar? Yeah, that one. How many people saw that one coming, huh?

Wendy Kroy: Honey, I saw that one coming from a mile away. In fact, I saw that one coming from several recaps back.

Regina: Oh, you're so smart, aren't you?
Wendy Kroy: Face it, sister. You don't need to be a brain surgeon to watch this damn show. We're in it for the ass-kicking and the sassy wigs.
Regina: True. But, really, it's not like SD-6 is a tiny one-bedroom apartment in Andersonville or anything, ya know? Like, there are eighteen-hundred square feet in this place and still Syd can't walk off without someone knocking into her? Such a pathetic plot device.
Wendy Kroy: Sweetie?
Regina: What?
Wendy Kroy: You're growling.
Regina: Well, it pisses me off.
Wendy Kroy: I know, baby. But remember our mantra while watching this show?
Regina: "There is no spoon?"
Wendy Kroy: That's right. There is no spoon. And there is no reality. Except, of course, the reality of another vodka and tonic. JULIO?!

So anyway, Syd gets knocked in the arm and winces with pain. Her attempts to hide her cringing from Dixon are totally transparent. Dixon totally sees it and gets this rather threatening look on his face. Syd's dead meat.

Aaaaaand…commercial!

The Haven For Injured Spies And Their Totally Clueless Roommates. Francie's getting ready to leave the apartment. She opens the door and is startled to see our very own Spy Daddy just standing there. His explanation is that he's there to give Sydney a ride, but really, he's there to debrief Sydney on everything he knows about the Denpasar operation right there in her apartment, even though, like, the whole place is probably ONE BIG RECORDING DEVICE.

Right. So. Spy Daddy's all, Denpasar was one jacked-up screw, Syd. Your whole slew of mommy issues is beginning to get in the way of your job. Syd's all, my navel is SO interesting right now. I think I'll just stare at it for a bit. Spy Daddy's all, Sloane still doesn't trust me, sweetie. Try thinking of me for a change, okay? And do you have any espresso? I forgot to stop at Starbucks on the way over. Syd's all, uh, no, but SD-6 nabbed Sark. Is that enough of a jolt for ya?

Interrogation Room For International Cuties. Sark's strapped to a chair, looking depressed but adorable. Sloane enters, looking delighted but dangerous. Sloane's all, blah blah blah I could totally torture you, but I won't. I'm curious about Khasinau. Sark's all, yeah yeah yeah, you and everyone else, buddy. Sloane's all, I need to find him. Sark's all, bully for you. Sloane's all, let's not play games, okay? Where is he? Sark's all, bring me a bottle of my favorite wine and we'll discuss.

Humble Abode Of Screw-Up Spies And Their Moronic Cohorts. Francie, Syd, and Willage are noshing on some salad and watching a soap opera. Syd and Francie kibitz about the plot while Willage morosely eats his croutons and continues to wax paranoiac about his upcoming meeting with Deep Throat. Syd and Francie try to break Willage's reverie, but only a phone call from Deep Throat can do that. Cue the cell phone. Deep Throat is about to give Willage instructions.

We don't hear them, however, because we quickly cut to Commander Stupid in his office. Agent Sean enters, and is none too pleased because Devlin just tore him a new one. Turns out that Agent Sean took a bullet for Vaughn by claiming responsibility for Vaughn leaving Sark before he was secured. Aw. Agent Sean. Expressing his platonic non-gay love for his partner. What a guy.

Vaughn thanks him. "I lied," says Agent Sean, "to save your ass." Vaughn's all, you didn't have to do that. Agent Sean's all, hey man, think nothin' of it. That's what partners do for each other, right? Oh, except that YOU SUCK AND YOU NEED TO GET OVER THIS FUCKING SYDNEY THING BEFORE I SHOVE YOUR HEAD INTO A FILING CABINET AND SLAM IT A COUPLE OF TIMES. HARD. Vaughn's all, dude, I'm Sydney's handler, okay? She's my responsibility. Agent Sean's all, look. Call it whatever you want, crush-boy. Your little relationship with your non-girlfriend is starting to affect ME, and I'm gettin' kind of SICK of it, okay? There's a line that we're not supposed to cross here and, like, we're about four billion feet past it and we're parked there with our tents and our fishing rods and, like, it's time to head home to electricity and our DVDs, all right?

Is it wrong that I am TOTALLY digging Agent Sean's chili right now? Ripping into Vaughn like he is, Agent Sean is really doing it for me. He's all quiet and decent and everything but, like, he's totally kicking ass right now. If he wanted to? I'd let him be my boyfriend. Really.

Wendy Kroy: Honey, he is NOT your type.
Regina: He is when he goes off on Vaughn like that. Besides, how would you know what my "type" is, anyway?
Wendy Kroy: Excuse me? Have we or have we not known each other for years?
Regina: So? My mother's known me for years too. Doesn't mean she knows what my type is.
Wendy Kroy: Hello? Are we forgetting Wedge? Are we forgetting Hank4? Are we forgetting everything I've witnessed for the PAST TWO YEARS?

Regina: You know what? Shut up.
Wendy Kroy: That's original. You like the bad boys, girl. Face it.
Regina: Just for that, I'm making Julio put on a snowsuit and a parka. No more cut-offs for you, sister.
Wendy Kroy: Bitter much?
Regina: Bite me.
Wendy Kroy: Bitch.
Regina: Slag.
Wendy Kroy: Cocksucker.
Regina: Takes one to know one.
Wendy Kroy: Excellent point. Julio! More refreshments for the cocksuckers!

So, uh, Vaughn's all sheepish and sorry and declares that he doesn't know how to be Sydney's handler without it being personal. "Figure out a way," rasps Agent Sean, leaving. Vaughn just stares down at his navel, apparently finding it nearly as interesting as Sydney found hers.

Interrogation Room For International Cuties. Sloane's pouring grape juice -- er, wine into a couple of glasses. Sark watches, salivating at the thought of pouring the sweet red elixir down his throat. Sark says that he was actually kind of kidding when he asked for the wine. He seriously thought that, after what Khasinau did with Shovelhead and the whole "taking over SD-6" plan, Sloane would split his belly with a hunting knife before running down to the SD-6 wine cellar in pursuit of a fine vintage.

"Do you think that's the kind of activity the CIA engages in?" says Sloane smugly. "Not the CIA," smoothes Sark. They have a quick staring contest in which Sloane correctly surmises that Sark's not your average hot dumb blond British sexpot guest star. Sloane says something about how Khasinau must trust Sark with oodles of important info, because he trusted him with the whole Moscow/K-Directorate thing. Sark's all, yeah, but he doesn't tell me everything, okay? So stop fishing.

Sloane swirls the wine, sticks his nose in the glass, takes a rather disgusting slurp, and Cheshirely smiles at Sark before declaring that they will collaborate, whether Sark wants to or not. "You will lead me to Khasinau," Sloane finishes. "Understood?" Sark just glances at the wine and asks for a sip. Sloane walks over and actually puts the glass to Sark's lips and gives him a drink. Yeah, it's kind of gross. But because I want Sark and I want him BAD, it's also kind of sexy. Yeah, I know. Ew. Shut up.

Conference Room Of Endless Expositions. Sloane's telling the troops that Sark's being relatively cooperative. After Dixon asks what the move is and covertly glances at Sydney like she's sporting a placard that reads, "I am NOT working for SD-6," Sloane informs them that Sark's scheduled to meet up with Khasinau in a Paris nightclub, and Syd and Dix will be attending that meeting. Syd wants to know if they're supposed to abduct Khasinau. Nope. Sloane says that Khasinau's expecting the ampoule, because there's yet another random Rambaldi manuscript with yet more invisible text that only the ampoule solution can illuminate. Say it with me, people: WHAT-FUCKING-EVER.

This silly plot device, er, I mean, page, is conveniently located at the Paris nightclub. Sark will hand Khasinau a counterfeit ampoule while Dix and Syd lift the Rambaldi page from Khasinau's office. Syd's confused. She thought they were gonna nab Khasinau and teach him a lesson. Sloane tells her to shut her piehole and pay attention. Sark has provided detailed schematics of the nightclub. The headlining performer has called in sick, and Syd's going to take her place. Millions of male Alias fans hope that the nightclub's featured entertainment is a strip show. Sloane turns the floor over to Marshall, who asks Sydney how her voice is. Syd's all, why?

Before Marshall can answer, we're transported to an under-the-bridge meeting between Spy Daddy and Willage. Spy Daddy fills Willage in on the details of the Deep Throat meeting. Only, uh, I don't really know HOW Spy Daddy knows the details of the Deep Throat meeting because, like, he isn't Deep Throat. I mean, didn't Willage get a call from Deep Throat with instructions? Shouldn't Willage already KNOW the details of the meeting? Oh, whatever. Like it matters. Willage looks really cute in this scene so, really, I'm not even paying attention to the dialogue.

Spy Daddy hands Willage a coat with a miniature transmitter sewn into the lining. Willage is worried about being frisked. Good thing the transmitter's too small to detect. Those spies! They think of everything. Spy Daddy wants to know the terms of the meeting; where, when, is Willage supposed to be doing anything specific? Right. Because Spy Daddy knows how Willage is going to be abducted for the meeting, but he doesn't know where, when, or if Willage is supposed to be doing anything specific. Lord.

Willage tells Spy Daddy that he's supposed to be on a street corner, tomorrow night, reading the business section of the local paper. What street corner? Where? Spy Daddy's full of questions for someone who usually knows everything. Willage takes a deep breath and says, "Paris." Ah, Paris. I know it well. Too bad I'm not there right now.

Wendy Kroy: Bitch, you were just THERE. Don't be greedy.
Regina: Jealous much?
Wendy Kroy: Bet your sweet ass I'm jealous. And you didn't even bring me a goddamn ashtray from the airport.
Regina: Dude. I told you! There were dogs sniffing around my luggage! I wasn't really looking for cheap airport ashtrays.
Wendy Kroy: Whatever. You're such a selfish cu--

Regina: Oh, no you don't.
Wendy Kroy: Ooooh…someone's getting sensitive about the "C" word. Ooooh…
Regina: Julio! Bring Mommy a new cocktail. And this time, sport that suit of armor that Mommy brought you from the Tower of London.
Wendy Kroy: You are SO unfair.
Regina: Yeah, tell it to the judge, sister. Mommy's not listening.

Subbasement Of Dreams And Desires. Syd enters, all pissy about not being able to nab Khasinau. She wants to know if her countermission is to get the son of a bitch. Vaughn curtly informs her that it's not. Syd blathers on about how it should be her mission to get the son of a bitch. Agent All Business And No Pleasure tells her that SD-6 can't be allowed to get their hands on the Rambaldi pages, then hands her counterfeit pages that she'll have to switch with the ones that Dixon's going to steal from Khasinau. Syd's all, that's it? That's all? I'm going to go to Paris and all I'll get are those lousy invisible pages? Agent Animosity is all, yep, that's it. Any questions? Syd's all, uh, no. And by the way? What in the HELL is your problem? Agent Animosity's all, no problem here. Any questions? Syd's all, I believe I just ASKED you a question, dinkus. What is your PROBLEM? Why're you acting all cold and cruel and cantankerous? Agent Animosity's all, I'm fine, Princess. I'll see ya around some time. He leaves, and Sydney looks around the room for the real Vaughn.

St. Somewhere Else Hospital. Sloane's hanging with Auntie Em, cooling her brow with a damp cloth. She's telling him that she couldn't go through all this without him. Sloane babbles something about her pain management, but Em just cuts him off, saying that she doesn't want to die in the hospital. She wants to be at home when she bites it, and she wants him to promise to make that happen. Sloane lies that he promises.

Paris. City of Light. City of Pastry. City of Hot Guys With Killer Fashion Sense. Dixon and Syd -- who is dressed up to resemble a slightly less feminine Lypsinka -- approach the back door to Khasinau's club. In particularly awful French, Dixon informs the doorman that the lovely lady in drag to his left is the evening's entertainment, and could they kindly enter the club? The doorman runs an airport sensor thingy over Dixon and gets a signal that Dixon's holding something, and Dixon pulls out his cell phone. The doorman lets it pass. He does the same to Sydney and gets a signal when he comes across a rather hideous ring. In her trademark horrific French, Sydney informs him that it belonged to her grandmother.

Before we can all go, "Who the hell cares about a cell phone and a ring?" we go to a mini-flashback wherein Marshall's demonstrating that the ring is actually some sort of cardiac event recorder. Yeah, it's stupid. Anyway, the vault where the Rambaldi documents are has a biometric code lock or something, and the only way to open it is with Khasinau's heartbeat. Or something. So, like, Syd has to get close to Khasinau while she's performing and record Khasinau's heartbeat with the ring, which will then transmit the heartbeat to the receiver, which is actually contained within Dixon's cell phone, allowing Dixon access to the vault. Okay, there is not enough vodka in the world to help me swallow this crap.

Right. Inside the club, Sark's sitting at a table up front. He orders a very snazzy bottle of wine and two glasses. Meanwhile, somewhere else in the City of Light, Spy Daddy and Willage pull up in a car. Before Willage can exit, Spy Daddy pulls out a vial of something and tells Willage to drink it. Willage is all, is it tequila? Cuz I could really use a hefty shot right about now. Spy Daddy's all, no, you pussy. It's a time-release methamphetamine, and it'll help counteract the effects of sodium pentathol. Willage is all, you just happen to have that on you? What're you, a SPY or something?

Willage drinks it down. Spy Daddy wants to make sure he's got his story straight. Willage is all, they're gonna kill me, aren't they? Spy Daddy's all, dude, if they wanted to kill you, you'd have been dead already. "I wouldn't let you do this if I thought the odds were in favor of your murder," snipes Spy Daddy. Willage is all, thanks, dude. That's a HUGE comfort to me. Willage gets out of the car in front of a silk-screened picture of the Eiffel Tower, you know, just in case we FORGOT THAT THEY'RE SUPPOSED TO BE IN PARIS.

Back in the club, Khasinau arrives at Sark's table. They hug and take a seat. Khasinau asks to see the ampoule. Sark produces it. Khasinau wants to head to his office. In a mini-flashback, Sloane's telling Sark that he has to keep Khasinau at the table. Back at the club, the waiter arrives with the snazzy bottle of wine and two glasses. This pleases Khasinau, who declares that a little celebration is in order.

A tinkling piano announces the arrival of Lypsinka Light. Now, either Jennifer Garner can really sing, or the crafty sound fellows have mixed and re-mixed her voice enough times that it just sounds like she can really sing. Of course, it doesn't really matter if she can or can't because, in all honesty, we're far too distracted by the black satin bustier and tremendous cleavage that our little Spy Barbie's sporting to notice whether or not she sounds like Elaine Stritch on acid.

Lypsinka Light zeroes in on Khasinau, struts her way over to his table, works her magic with grandmama's ring, and picks up Khasinau's heartbeat. Elsewhere in the club, Dixon's chugging it over to Khasinau's office with his cell phone, which is informing him that he's about fifty percent away from nailing Khasinau's heartbeat.

At the same time, Willage is hanging out on a Paris street corner, reading the business section of Le Monde. A guy with a Russian accent comes up behind him, puts a gun to his head, and shoves Willage into a van. In the club, Dixon's got the heartbeat, communicates this to Syd, and heads to the vault. Syd removes herself from Khasinau's lap and returns to the stage, finishing her song with a flourish and another shot of her ample cleavage.

Dixon enters Khasinau's office, drops the guard there in three seconds, and bolts over to the office. Onstage, Syd watches as some guy comes up to Khasinau and says something about the informer from Los Angeles. She's about to leave the stage or start singing "Mighty Real" or something when she sees our beloved Willage being dragged around by one of Khasinau's men.

Back at the vault, Dixon's working on the lock. Back onstage, Syd screws with the microphone and informs the audience, in her trademark pathetic French, that she's having technical difficulties and she'll be back just as soon as they're fixed. She runs offstage. Dixon gets into the vault, grabs the pages, replaces them with fake ones, and tells Syd that he'll meet her out back in two minutes.

Down in a dingy men's latrine, Willage is strapped to a chair. One of Khasinau's men approaches him with a syringe. Willage is all, are you the guy I've been talking to and -- hey, what is that? Sodium pentathol? Cool! Bring it on! Woo! The tracers…

Spy Daddy's back in his car, listening in on the proceedings. Khasinau's guy wants to know how Willage found out about "The Circumference." Willage, currently experiencing the same sort of sensations that I felt at that rave party during junior year of college, just blinks his eyes and says he heard about it and could someone get him some grape Nehi or something? Or maybe some cotton candy? Or how about one of those little fluffy bunnies that come with these touch-me-feel-me books and wow…this room is BIG…is that Wonder Woman? I just love her.

Khasinau's guy wants a name. Spy Daddy listens intently. Willage tries to find his tongue, which at this point seems to be stapled to the roof of his mouth. Before he can provide Khasinau's guy with a name, Syd storms in and kicks some Khasinau henchman ASS. She looks down at Willage. Willage sloppily looks around the room in search of his fluffy bunny and makes his way to Syd. His response to her outfit is pretty much the same as mine: "AAAUUUGGGHHH!!!"

After we take a break and make an emergency phone call to J.J. Abrams, wherein we request that he ask permission the time he pilfers John Epperson's fantabulous stage persona, we're back with Willage and his panic attack. Syd's all up in Willage's face about how he got there. Willage is all, I was following a story and what in the FUCK is up with your hair, baby? Spy Daddy hears all this and peels out.

Syd hears some Khasinau commotion outside and grabs Willage, exiting to the club. She gets on the horn to Dixon and tells him that she can't meet out back and she'll see him at the extraction point in thirty minutes. At that moment, Khasinau and Sark come upon the little mess that Dixon left in the office. He orders his henchmen to get a move on.

As Syd and Willage quickly make their way past the bar, one of Khasinau's dudes sees them and starts shooting. Syd covers Willage with her body and then pops up with her guns blazin'. No, "guns" is not a euphemism for her breasts. She's actually shooting a gun. Although, upon closer inspection, the way her boobs are popping out of that bustier, they probably could be considered weapons.

After the bullets fly, Syd grabs Willage and shouts that they're goin' out the front. Khasinau's henchman comes after them, and she kicks a table at him and then knocks him over the head with a chair. She turns just in time to see another henchman point a gun at Willage's head. She leaps onto a chair, spins around in slo-mo, and knocks the henchman down with a truly awesome kick. Willage just drools at her in response. She grabs his drugged carcass and pulls him up the stairs.

Wendy Kroy: You know, that should really be a required scene in every episode.
Regina: I'm sayin'.
Wendy Kroy: Like, Willage should be at the newspaper, just sitting at his desk and, like, some random guy should enter and tell him to take off his clothes.
Regina: Oh, yeah. Bradley Cooper should do all of season in his underwear.
Wendy Kroy: Do you think they'll do that? Can they do that?
Regina: They can if they bring me on as a costume consultant.
Wendy Kroy: Oh, totally. Can I be your assistant?
Regina: Of course, sweetie.
Wendy Kroy: Can I be Bradley Cooper's dresser?
Regina: Don't press your luck.

Spy Daddy ends his exposition dance with the statement that, for some reason, Khasinau is trying to expose both he and Sydney. Just then, the door to Bradley Cooper's dressing room opens. French Guy exits with a man who vaguely resembles one of the Beastie Boys in the "Sabotage" video. Oh, sorry. It's just Willage in a hideous black shag wig and a circa-1970s disco shirt.

Sydney suddenly embraces Willage and whispers that he can't tell anyone about this. She begs him to promise her that he won't say a word. He promises. She starts to cry as French Guy and his cohorts cart him off. "I'll see you at home," she sobs. "And tell Lypsinka I'll have her wig back to her by tomorrow afternoon!"

Back in Hell-Lay, Uncle Arvin's doodling on some papers while chatting with Auntie Em on the speaker phone. She's babbling on about making plans for visits or some such shit, and then she says something about keeping your sense of humor. Arvin's not really listening, because he's just noticed that Alain Christophe from The Alliance is on the other line. He quickly hangs up on his soon-to-be-dead-in-some-way-or-another wife and picks up the other line. Christophe congratulates Sloane on the Paris job and tells him that, due to Em's cancer, Sloane's request to spare her life has been approved.

Before Arvin can breathe a much-needed sigh of relief, we're treated to the vision of Dixon and his wife in bed. No, not like THAT. Dirty birds. No, Dixon's having a few mini-flashbacks of his own. They involve the South American operation where Dixon got shot. Remember that? Remember, when Syd called the CIA on her phone and announced herself as "Freelancer"? Looks like Dixon heard that after all.

The day (I'm guessing here), Dixon turns to Syd and asks her about how she hurt her arm. Syd blithers some cockamamie story about hiking in the mountains and slipping off a scree. Dixon, not buying a single second of this stupid concoction, tells Syd that she should have told him, because they're supposed to tell each other about their injuries. "Full disclosure," he says, staring at her. "Full disclosure," Syd repeats, for lack of anything better to say. They smile at each other and turn around so that Sydney can look off into the distance and wonder if Dixon knows about her, and so that Dixon can look off into the distance and wonder if Sydney knows that he knows about her.

Later that same day (again, guessing here), Syd and Dix are in Sloane's office, and Syd's saying something about Sark tipping off Khasinau. Sloane doesn't really care, because the mission was still a success. Dixon's all, but we lost Sark. Sloane's all, no worries; that wine I fed him had a radioactive isotope in it. "We've been tracking Sark since he left the club," finishes Sloane. Dixon wants to know where he is. Sloane tells him he's on a transatlantic flight and that, when he lands, hopefully with Khasinau, they'll track him and nab him. Sloane dismisses them.

They both go to leave, but Sloane stops Sydney. Uncle Arvin brings up Syd's visit to the hospital and how Auntie Em brought up some, shall we say, sensitive information. He yammers on about how the divulging of such sensitive information would usually require a deliberate course of action, as Sydney well knows. With just a crook of her eyebrow, Jennifer Garner manages to communicate that Sloane's referring to Dead Danny. "Because she's not likely to last the week," croaks Arvin, "I was able to sustain a reprieve." With just that break in his voice, Ron Rifkin manages to communicate that the inevitable death of his wife is truly killing him. It's a truly excellent scene, folks. Truly.

Arvin goes on to thank Syd for being such a good friend to Auntie Em, as well as to him. "It was your duty to report Emily to security section," he says. "You didn't. And that's more than I did for you." After digesting this little nugget, Syd heads directly over to The Sub-basement Of Dreams And Desires so she can unload her sob stories to her non-boyfriend.

Agent Apathy's all, please tell me you don't have sympathy for Arvin Sloane. Syd's all, no, dude. It's just, he expressed regret about what he did to Danny and, like, it made me all tingly inside and -- Agent Apathy's all, dude? He'd kill you just as soon look at you so, like, park your "tingliness" at the door, okay? He quickly moves on to agent business and says that they'll deal with the loss of the Rambaldi document later because, after all, everyone's used to Syd screwing up missions.

Agent Apathy goes on to say something about a contingency plan that the CIA has come up with to keep Willage safe. The plan, apparently, involves either witness protection or recruitment. Oh, please. These are the choices? Syd's not down with the recruitment option. Vaughn's all, well, I don't really care what you're down with, okay? They bicker back and forth about Willage's status in the spy world. The whole scene ends with Sydney blubbering on about how Vaughn gets to tell people that he works for the CIA, while she has to come up with whoppers about international banking and hiking in the mountains. Syd says that, now that Willage knows the truth, he'll never trust her again. "You should have seen his face in Paris," she says. "It was like he was looking at a stranger." "But he wasn't," says Vaughn. "He was looking at you. Maybe for the first time. He was looking at you." Pass the tissues, okay? No, not because I'm gonna cry. Because I'm just about to HURL ALL OVER MY KEYBOARD and I'll need the tissues to clean up the mess. Shut up, Agent Amorous.

Hotel Room Of Cast Members Who Really Should Only Be Wearing Their Boxer Shorts Right Now. Syd enters, looking rather weepy. Willage sort of glances at her and then looks away. He makes some small talk about the hotel room. Syd's all, I told you NOT to pursue this story, honey. Willage is all, yeah, I know. Sorry. I'm a dumb shit. Should I take off my pants now? Syd's all, no, not yet. But thanks for the offer. You do know that Danny was killed because I told him about me, right? And they were gonna kill me too.

Light dawns on yonder Willage and he suddenly realizes that this was why Syd asked for his sister's passport. Syd walks over to the bed while she blithers on about Willage having questions and how she can't answer them. She sits as Willage blathers on about going after the story because of Dead Danny. Yawn. Take off yer pants, Bradley! TAKE 'EM OFF! That'll at least give me SOME reason to keep watching this dribbly little scene. As yet another selection from "The Womb Collection" plays, Willage sits to Sydney and tells her he's never going to speak to ANYONE about this and how sad her life must be and how much he just loves her. She thanks him, and he thanks her for saving his life. Like, it's a poignant scene and everything but, uh, it would be greatly improved if Bradley Cooper were pants-less at the moment.

Meanwhile, Arvin's at the hospital, and he's getting info that Sark's landed in Geneva. He gives the go-ahead to apprehend Sark, and gets off the phone. Back at the hotel, Willage is asking the agents behind the mirror if he can get a burger or something. The agents don't respond.

Then we're in the hospital room where Uncle Arvin and Auntie Em are waiting for her test results. Her doctor enters and informs Auntie Em that her bone marrow has been rapidly regenerating and she is now officially in remission. Auntie Em cries with relief. Uncle Arvin cries with the knowledge that, now that his wife has received a second lease on life, she's one dead duck.

In some random stairwell somewhere, a bunch of black-clad guys with guns bust in and run up the stairs. We cut quickly back to the hotel, where Willage is lounging around and the agents are doing their thing on the other side of the mirror. Back to the black-clad guys. They storm into a room, expecting to find Sark. Instead, they find a hospital bed, a bunch of medical equipment, and a dozen or so blood bags. Looks like Sark had himself a quickie blood transfusion.

SARK COULD BE ANYWHERE! DO YOU HEAR ME? ANYWHERE.

But he's not. Anywhere, that is. Nope. Back at the hotel, Willage is impatiently awaiting his food. We pass through the spy mirror and see Willage's protective agents strewn around the room, dead as doornails. A man steps over the bodies and makes his way over to the door to Willage's room. He knocks. Willage opens the door, grateful that his pizza's arrived. Sorry, Willage. It's not Domino's. It's Sark. And he's got a different kind of delivery for you.

BANG!

Buh-bye, Willage.

Wendy Kroy: He is SO not dead.
Regina: Oh, totally.
Wendy Kroy: This is like a hideous dream sequence.
Regina: Yeah. Just like Dallas.
Wendy Kroy: Yeah, like, he's totally just in the shower and this is all going to dissolve into wavy lines or something.
Regina: Right.
Wendy Kroy: He's dead, isn't he?
Regina: Yup.
Wendy Kroy: Dammit. Why couldn't he have been in his underwear, then? Huh? WHY?
Regina: I don't know, sweetie. Pass the cocktail mix. If it'll make you feel any better, we can make Julio come in here in his underwear and call him "Willage" for the rest of the evening.
Wendy Kroy: Oh, thank you, honey. You're the best.
Regina: I know, babe. Julio! Drop the pants and get your ass in here! And wear that wig that Mommy brought you from Vegas!