Previously on Alias: We were tortured by an achingly slow musical interlude involving Bob Dylan and his squeaky guitar. That pretty much wiped out any other memories of that show I might have retained.
Agent Sean gives us the voice-over once-over yet again. We get it. Are they gonna do this damn montage EVERY time? God. I'm already irritated, and it's only three seconds into the episode. Before we join the current episode, we're treated to a re-introduction of my ex-boyfriend Sark as he shoots down those guys in the warehouse. I'm guessing this scene is being shown so that when Sark shows up later in the episode, the members of the audience who haven't spent the last year of their lives drooling over any mention of David Anders will know just who in the hell Sark is. All I know is, my new boyfriend Viggo Mortensen was less than pleased when he found several pairs of Sark's plaid boxers shoved into the back of one of my dresser drawers. Viggo should count his blessings that he didn't come across the SCARY underwear. Shhh, Viggo. Your sweetie-pie is working.
Right. So we have to follow Sydney while she takes The Double Agent Requires Special Three-Hour Covert Entry route to the Operations Center. This is done primarily to remind us all of just how secret the Operations Center is and, more importantly, to illustrate that Jennifer Garner is indeed in TOP physical condition. Seriously. She and Madonna should go one-on-one. I'd put my money on Madonna, but that's only because I think she was born with a natural rage that Jenny just ain't got. And, besides, Madge has to wrassle with Guy on a regular basis, so her dirty tricks are probably well honed.
Syd makes it into the Ops Center, and Kendall greets her with far more warmth than he's EVER shown her, even thanking her for making it in on such short notice. And now, for those of you out there keeping count, Kendall offers us our first mention of how difficult it must have been for Sydney to speak with her mother last week. That's Number One, people. Make a list. There are more coming.
Kendall says something about how, even though it was rough for Syd, she'll have to agree that the intel Irina offered was well worth it. "I thought so," says Syd rather smugly. "Until an hour ago." Kendall's all, whuh? Syd's all, yeah, that camera you had me steal from Fjordson's lab while sporting the Betty Page wig? It's an early prototype, you balding dingbat. The real camera's scheduled to be launched into orbit in just seventy-two hours.
Kendall quietly picks up a headset and chews on it, then requests that someone shove one of their high-tech PDAs directly up his ass. Then he asks Syd just who in the HELL is launching this camera into space? We pay a visit to The Conference Room Of Endless Expositions as Sloane answers Kendall's question. "The Asiatic Space Agency," he says. And, yes, it's "Asiatic," not "Adriatic." Ron Rifkin has excellent diction, and there is no "d" anywhere in that sentence.
Sloane goes on to say something about how the ASA is staffed mainly by displaced Russian scientists, and their latest client is my ex-boyfriend, Sark. Or, as Jennifer Garner is forced to say for everyone out there who isn't familiar with my former lover's precious blond countenance, "Sark." Dixon wants to know why Sark's interested in launching a satellite. Well, according to Marshall, this particular satellite is equipped with a terahertz imaging camera. What in the hell does that mean? It means that the camera is capable of seeing through solid matter up to a depth of one hundred meters. In other words, it's equipped with the camera that Sydney thought she stole. Get it? Or should I have Viggo show up at your house with a terahertz imaging camera-shaped anvil?
Oh, and I looked up "terahertz imaging" on Google and it does in fact exist. This, and the fact that I'm spending ANY time looking up words on the internet that are used during Alias, disturbs me greatly.
Speaking of disturbing, Sloane demands that they find out just what it is Sark is looking for. Back at the Ops Center, Syd informs First Mate Forehead and Kommandant Kendall that Sloane wants her and Dixon to infiltrate the launch site in Sri Lanka and hack into the satellite, so that SD-6 can keep tabs on just what it is that Sark is looking for. Agent Amorous says something about checking with the CIA tech department about hacking into the satellite, so that the CIA can also keep tabs on just what it is that Sark is looking for. Kommandant Kendall points out that, while hacking into the satellite is a fine preliminary step to take, the CIA will want to know precisely what Sark's looking for BEFORE the satellite is launched. And then he just looks at Sydney. In that way. No, not THAT way. More like, "Dude? Can you do me a solid?" Syd knows immediately what he's on about. "You want me to talk to her again," she says.
Yeah. Yeah, he does. But, like, since you gave her your little "you'll address me as 'Agent Bristow' from here on out do I make myself CLEAR" speech, it really shouldn't be a problem, now should it? Kendall seems to agree with me, because he goes on to say something about how Sark's assumed control of her mother's operations -- "Please stop referring to her as my mother," snits Sydney. Why? She IS your mother. And by the way, if you want everyone to stop referring to her as your mother, then perhaps YOU should stop referring to her as YOUR MOTHER. I don't have time to go back through every episode I have on tape, but I bet I'd need more than ten fingers to count how many times Syd used the words "my mother" in reference to, well, HER MOTHER.
Kendall switches to "Derevko," but still insists that Syd talk to her. Syd's all, I talked to her before 'cuz y'all MADE me; I'm not doin' this on a regular basis, mmm-kay? Kendall pulls the Valiant Vaughn card and turns to Commander Cuteness for his opinion. Vaughn, caught between pissing off the woman he wants to see naked and the man who could fire his ass, just says, "Uh, I don't have an easy answer to that." "I'll take a complicated one," sneers Kendall. Hee.
Now, for those of you not paying attention, like, EVER, Vaughn makes a quick little speech about all the wrongs that Irina's been responsible for in the past. Like betraying her country. Like killing Vaughn's daddy. Like making prison garb look sexy. Syd's all nodding and backing Vaughn up like, "Yeah! That's right! You tell him, honey!" Before Syd can start giving Vaughn high-fives, however, he starts talking about how Irina is a certified Rambaldi expert and probably knows more on the subject of global organized crime than any other person in U.S. custody. Syd just looks at him, her expression saying, "Oh, man. You done gone and NOT gotten my back, BITCH! What is UP wit dat? Why you gotta be so mean?"
By the way, does anyone know how I can become a certified Rambaldi expert? There's a school over on Fullerton that offers certification for massage therapy, but I haven't seen anything about Rambaldi expertise. And while we're on the subject, can a layman actually BE the most knowledgeable person on the subject of global organized crime? I mean, can you get a degree in that and put it to use in the corporate world? Or do you just have to maim and kill people and take over small countries? I mean, like, is it practical knowledge?
Ahem. Anyway, Virtuous Vaughn saves his ass by wrapping up his speech with a statement about how he and Syd were effectively countering SD-6 before Irina even showed up and he'll stand behind whatever decision Sydney makes. Way to ensure the future nookie sessions, Captain Non-Courageous. Syd slightly smiles at him as if to say, "Yeah. That's right. You're my bitch."
Kendall pipes up again to say something about how he appreciates that Syd's caught in the middle of "all this," but he can guarantee that as soon they find out what Irina knows, Syd will never have to speak to her mother again. That's officially Number Two, for those of you with pads of paper at the ready. Syd just looks at Kendall, her eyes burning with the fury of a woman who most CERTAINLY will NOT be talking to her MOTH-- oops, I mean IRINA DEREVKO.
Hey, it's Dr. Nancy! Where's Elliott and those two really annoying -- I mean, "adorable" kids? Did Hope and Michael finish their house yet? I mean, that was a project that lasted YEARS, wasn't it? What ever happened with Miles? What? What's that? Oh, you're not doing that show anymore? Oh. I thought it was still on. What's that you say? Ohhhh. I'm now actually "thirtysomething" so I no longer need to watch thirtysomething on TV? Wow. This explains so much…
So, Spy Daddy's paying an unexpected visit to his non-girlfriend, Dr. Nancy. She's all, we weren't scheduled 'til Wednesday, whassup? Spy Daddy wants to talk about Sydney. Thinking they're finally going to get to some juicy stuff, Dr. Nancy leans forward. Unfortunately, all Jack-O wants to do is devise a sneaky little plan that will persuade Sydney not to interact with her mother -- I mean, "Irina Derevko." Dr. Nancy's all, uh, why, dude? Jackie Boy's all, because Irina Derevko's a scary, manipulative sociopathic BITCH who broke my heart and who will use any opportunity to get what she wants from my daughter. Dr. Nancy's all, I totally agree with you, but could we go back to the part where you said something about your heart getting broken? Because we could get DEEP into that shit. Oh, and has it occurred to you that the more you keep your daughter away from her mommy, the more she's gonna want to see her? Spy Daddy's all, yeah! Of course that's occurred to me! What, do you think I'm STUPID? Why do you think I'm here? I mean, besides my whole undiscovered crush on you? You and me, well, we have to come up with a strategy that has the necessary subtlety.
Dr. Nancy just smirks at him. "Well, I'm sorry," she says, "but I am not in the habit of helping a father manipulate his daughter. No matter how good his intentions may be." Ooooh. Dr. Nancy's gettin' feisty! "I see," fumes Jack, barely containing his smothered anger. "And is your opinion here based on what's best for Sydney or for the agency? Because, the fact is, if Sydney doesn't talk to Laura, the CIA learns nothing." Dr. Nancy's ears perk up. "So," she says, "you still think of her as 'Laura'? Even though that was her alias?" Faithful viewers, as well as psychiatrists, all over the world collectively tap their fingers against their lips and go, "Hmmmm..."
Mama Hari's Den Of Delights. Once again, Syd makes the long trek down the hall to Irina's sparsely stylish cell. Mama Hari (tm Souris) is practicing a little yoga with her back to the glass, silently sitting on her haunches in the center of the room, deep in concentration. As soon as she hears Sydney enter, Irina opens her eyes and tells Syd (how she knows it's her daughter is a mystery to me -- she's probably psychic on top of being a cold-blooded killer) that she's practicing a form of meditation that offers all the benefits of sleep in a fraction of the time. Yeah, I tried to listen to find out what it was because A) I could totally use something like that and B) that's just how weird I am. I even looked it up on Google. What'd I look up? "Different Forms Meditation Sleep," if you must know. Remember what I said about being disturbed? Yeah. Lather, rinse, repeat.
Mama Hari turns and tells Syd she could teach her this meditation. Syd clips off that Irina's supposed to address her as "Agent Bristow" and nothing else. "Not even 'Pookie'?" says Irina coquettishly. "Especially not 'Pookie,'" snaps Syd. "Now what in the HELL is Sark looking for with that camera?" Irina doesn't answer. Instead, she stands up, showing off her wickedly toned biceps and shoulders, and walks over to the glass. "Do you remember when you were six years old?" she husks. "I sent you to piano lessons. Your teacher was Ms. Adams?" "We are not having this conversation," says Syd, trying to maintain her composure. "You asked me a question, I'm giving you an answer," barks Mama Hari. "Do you remember the first thing Ms. Adams taught you about music?" "She said, 'Music is like math. If you can count, you can play,'" says Syd, proving that she had the retention of a rocket scientist even at the tender age of six. Seriously. Do you remember anything your first-grade teacher said to you? I mean, other than "Sit DOWN and SHUT UP! And stop hitting Mary Margaret! Patrick O'Leary! If you don't take that pencil out of your nose RIGHT NOW --" Christ. I can't remember my first-grade teacher's name, let alone anything she SAID.
Mama Hari goes on to say something about how every musical note has a corresponding frequency, which means that any piece of music can be expressed as a series of numbers. Sark's looking for a music box designed by none other than Rambaldi. The box plays a unique tune. Encoded within the tune is an equation. For what, you may ask? Why, for zero point energy. What's zero point energy? Why, it's a fuel source whose military applications alone would be unlimited.
Did you know that there are over twenty websites listed on Google that deal with zero point energy? Did you know there are actually people out there devising devices that would USE zero point energy if it could actually be harnessed? Did you know that sometimes I turn off all the lights, drink a bottle of Liquid Drano, and have conversations with my radiator about quantum physics? ["[Raises hand.]" -- Sars]
Syd kind of doubts the whole "music box leads to alternative fuel source equation" scenario, and says as much. Mama Hari's all, of course the music won't play if you don't have the right combo. Sark was toiling over deciphering of the code but, like, no one knows if he nailed it or not. Syd's all, fine. See ya. Not so fast, Syd. Mama Hari wants to delve into your shared past for a moment. Even though you expressly told her that this was off limits. Specifically, Irina wants to discuss that time when Ms. Adams encouraged little Sydney to audition for the school's Thanksgiving play. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," says Mama Hari, running her fingers over her mouth in a manner that is NOT befitting a PTA mother. "But in the twenty years since I last saw you, I've often wondered...what part did you play?" Sydney, very clearly keeping her emotions in check, says rather coldly, "I don't remember. It was around the time I was told my mother had died. Everything else is a blur." Ooooh. Frosty! There's a shared moment of chilly emotion between the two women, as if Syd's made up her mind not to be a blubbering mama's girl and Irina's made up her mind to try to squeeze out a few subzero tears just to convince her daughter that she's for real. Then Syd leaves and we're left with Irina's reflection in the glass, contemplating whether or not, the time Sydney visits, she should bring up the Easter Parade that Sydney's soccer coach encouraged Syd to march in while wearing a huge basket on her head full of multi-colored eggs.
Break time. Dudes? I love Bonnie Hunt and all, but her show? Gives new meaning to the word "ass-tastic." Boy, it's bad. I had trouble reaching for the remote the other night because Viggo and I were so hungover that just thinking about changing the channel threw us into complete catatonia and we were forced to sit through Life With Bonnie. It was so awful that Viggo risked bruising his brain matter and actually threw the remote through the picture tube. If he didn't look so damn hot in his flannel pajama bottoms, I totally would have yelled at him for breaking my TV.
Oh, shit. I hear Julio crying. Viggo, honey? Take Julio some Nutter Butters and a glass of milk and tell him that Mommy still loves him, just not in THAT way. Yes, you can have some Nutter Butters too, baby. Just not too many. You know how much I like to lick organic applesauce off your rippling abs.
The Parking Lot Of Paternal Instincts. Spy Daddy's telling Syd that he read Vaughn's brief and knows she spoke with Mama Hari. "You okay?" he gruffs. God, I love Victor Garber. He's totally doing that "Look, I love you and everything but, like, I'm a GUY so, like, you all right?" thing that my father used to do. Spy Barbie's all, yeah, I'm fine, it's just that there are these HUGE GAPS in my memory from around the time my mommy left me. Notice the all-caps usage there. That'll be important later, I expect. Maybe not in this recap, but most certainly in the one.
Syd goes on to ask her dad about the Thanksgiving play she was supposed to be in. She kind of remembers it, but not really. Spy Daddy just sort of looks down at the pavement as if he's going to find the answer spray-painted on its surface. "Was I a pilgrim?" Syd asks. "Was I an Indian?" Spy Daddy keeps looking all over the place for the answer. Syd finally asks him what in the HELL is up. "You were neither," he gruffs again. He's very gruff-y today. "You were a turkey." Ha! Bwa ha ha! "You were the only turkey that was spared to celebrate the harvest," he continues, in this clipped manner that is SO cracking me up. You just KNOW that both he and Jennifer Garner were laughing their asses off in this scene. A turkey? They went with a TURKEY? That is just priceless.
Sydney laughs and smiles, and a hint of a smile appears at the corners of Spy Daddy's mouth. Sydney remembers where she is and who she's talking to, however, and quickly reverts back to serious spy mode. She's all, I know you think it's way dangerous for me to talk to Mom -- whoops! Did it again! I mean, "Irina," of course. Syd goes on to say that it's all cool because she doesn't take anything Irina says at face value. Oh. Would that be the same "face value" that caused you to ask your father about a Thanksgiving play you can't remember? I see. Interesting...Spy Daddy just says that he trusts her judgment and tells her she's doing fine. This kind of parenting is new for Syd -- the praise, the support, the sharing of turkey stories -- and she's clearly enjoying it.
Later, Inspector Dingus (a.k.a. "Marshall") is treating Sydney to a private session of "Hey! What's In The Silver Suitcase?" He's all, when you get to the launch site, just press this button here and PRESTO! you gots yourself your very own luge. Syd's all, dude? It's empty. Dingus is all, oh, yeah, I know, but, like, when you get to the site? It'll TOTALLY be ready. Swear. Syd wants to know how fast she can go. Dingus informs her that her top speed will be about 150 mph, but if she wears her hair in a curly red bob, she could reach a top speed of 175 mph. You know, just in case she was interested. Dingus goes on to tell her that she'd better get the hell outta there after she wires the circuit board, because if she's stuck in the ducts when the rocket launches, well, BOOM! "And then I'd miss you," whimpers Dingus, sending every single loyal viewer into a hale of giggles and guffaws.
Uncle Arvin's Office Of Occasional Bad Touching. Syd enters. Uncle Arvin's looking less than fresh. He hands over Auntie Em's "seed box." It's antique and was very precious to Auntie Em. "Emily would have wanted you to have it," he says, once again proving that, even though he's a murderous son of a bitch, he can STILL make us feel sympathy for him. Syd thanks him, and goes on to say that she can't think of Auntie Em without thinking of her garden. "Neither can I," says Uncle Arvin, pressing his hand to his face and looking rather forlornly at Sydney. "I miss her too," says Syd, rightly guessing what's on Uncle Arvin's mind. Uncle Arvin then blathers on about how the office is where he feels most at home lately and that, at the house, he seems to be paralyzed. "If a stranger were to come to the house for the first time," he says, "they would think that Emily still lived there." Why, Arvin? Are you still setting a place for her at the dinner table? Are you having conversations with her about where to hang paintings? Are you keeping her rotting corpse in a rocking chair in a locked room at the TOP OF THE STAIRS?
Ew. I just grossed myself out.
As it turns out, I'm close in my assessment of Sloane's house. Em's clothes are still in the closet, and her make-up's still on the vanity. "The only thing that betrays this pretense of normalcy is her garden," says Uncle Arvin. "Where roses once grew, they're gone now. Her garden seems to have died with her." God, Ron Rifkin rocks my world. He's so convincing with Arvin's pain that even SYDNEY buys it and says through clenched teeth, "It's not your fault." Sloane looks up at her in surprise because, of course, it actually IS his fault. He wishes Sydney luck in Sri Lanka, and our session of the Telltale Garden hath ended.
Subbasement Of Dreams And Desires. Agent Amorous hands over a circuit board that Syd's supposed to attach to the satellite instead of the SD-6 board. SD-6 will still be able to monitor the satellite; the CIA has just modified the board so they can see what everyone else is seeing. "One more thing," says Vaughn, checking his list. "I'd like to get those naked pictures of you as soon as -- oops! Sorry. Forget that. Uh...we'd like to bring Will Tippin in for a follow-up on his debrief." Syd's all, whuh? Why? And you can forget about the naked pictures, boy-o.
Vaughn says something about how, since Sark's working on cracking the music box combo, and Will mentioned something in his statement about seeing Sark working on a laptop in between kicking the shit out of Will, it might behoove the CIA to bring Will in for a little refresher. Syd is SO not into this idea. "You're thinking, what, induced regression?" Vaughn's all, yeah, that's pretty much what we were thinking. Syd's all, so, what? You can force him to relive all that ass-kicking he was receiving? No fucking WAY, man!
"Listen, Will, the CIA wants to meet with you again," says Spineless Syd. We're hanging out at The Center For Abandoned Daughters And The Heroin Addicts Who Love Them. Will's all, whuh? Why? Why-eeeeeee?! He looks really panicked. Syd's all, I could tell you that, but then I'd have to kill you. She just hands him an envelope with his SOP. "SOP?" he questions. Standard Operating Procedure, doofus! Everyone knows that! I mean, everyone who's a double agent working undercover at a dangerous anti-government agency! Will takes a slug off his Sam Adams as Syd tells him that he's going to meet with her non-boyfriend -- er, I mean, "handler." "Vaughn," Will correctly surmises. "He's..." Syd searches for a word that doesn't rhyme with "pot" or "cot." "Smart." Good one, Syd. Will TOTALLY couldn't tell you wanted a look at Vaughn's naked heinie with that little wordplay. Will just shakes his head and wonders if he goes through the whole torturous event again, will Sydney FINALLY lay one on him?
Just then, Foolio enters in a lacy red v-neck purchased from the Lisa Nicole Carson collection. Syd quickly grabs the beer out of Will's hand and takes a swig. Foolio's all, what in the HELL are you doing? Syd's all, ignoring your cleavage and wondering why the costuming department keeps putting you in red hoochie-mama tops -- why do you ask? Foolio's all, Will just went to his first AA meeting and you're all waving grain alcohol and crack pipes in his face? Phhhthhhppt. Syd's all, take it easy, Empress Intervention. I'll toss the beer if you promise never to wear red lace in this house again. They strike a deal, and Foolio asks Will if he can head down to her "restaurant" tomorrow to help her out. Yeah. Like she really has a "restaurant." I'll believe it when I see it. Foolio blabbles on and on about the flatware needing washing before the opening and Syd's coming to the opening, right? Syd's all, yeah, I'll come to the opening. IF YOU PROMISE YOU WON'T SERVE ANY ALCOHOL. Because, like, Will's gonna be there, you dumb-ass. So you might want to rethink your whole "heroin = alcohol" stance.
Syd starts to make her quick getaway, but Will steps up and thanks Syd for letting him stay at their place until he can afford a cheaper apartment. Syd actually gives Will a quick kiss on the lips and dashes. Will looks after her, rejoicing in the fact that, due to his agreement to go through the whole torturous event again, Syd FINALLY laid one on him. Now, if you'll excuse him, he has to go rifle through Syd's unmentionables.
Uncle Arvin's House O' Fun. Sloane shuffles over to the bar and pours himself a stiff drink. He turns and gets this odd expression on his face. He walks over to the door that leads out into Emily's garden and opens it, exiting to the patio. He looks around and his face registers shock, disbelief, confusion and fear all at the same time. The camera pulls back, and -- dun dun DUN -- Auntie Em's garden is miraculously restored to its grandeur.
Cuckoo. Cuckoo.
Sri Lanka. The Land Of Duran Duran Videos And Political Instability. "Dark in the city, night is a wire...steam in the subway, earth is a fire...do-do do do, do do do, do do do, do do do, do do…" Ah, John Taylor, where have you gone? Sorry to say it, Viggo baby, but if John Taylor showed up at my door right this minute, middle-aged paunch and all, I'd toss your poetry-slinging ass right out the window without a second thought. What's that? Well, if you're willing to throw on a white linen suit, a white headband, and some white jazz shoes, yeah, I might reconsider dumping you for J.T. But you'd have to get yourself some frosted hair and a slight pompadour. Okay, sweetie. You go to it.
Hey, it's footage from Apollo 13, superimposed over footage from Southern California, that's supposed to pass for somewhere in Sri Lanka! Where's the hot chick painted like a tiger? Where's Simon and his facial scratches? Oh, I guess it doesn't matter. Julio? Mommy's boyfriend is shopping for circa-'80s outfits; can you get Mommy a big ol' pitcher of Mambo Kings? See? Mommy still needs you! No! Put your pants on! Viggo will be back as soon as the "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go!" store closes!
Dixon sits on a hillside and watches as Sark drives up in an SUV. He radios to Syd that Sark's inside and that she's a "go." He reminds her that the sooner she gets on the phone line, the more time he has to hack into the system. Syd pulls up to the building in a spicy red convertible, with a spicy red wig to match. I must say, there's not a hair color in the world that looks bad on Jennifer Garner, but this wig makes her look like Jessica Rabbit after a lengthy session with a drag queen's hairstylist.
Inside, Sark does the meet-and-greet with some heavily accented Russian dude. Russian Dude informs Sark that they're about to do the final system checks; Sark just stands there looking sexier than hell. According to the clock above the launch video screen, we have thirty minutes until launch.
At the same time, Jessica Rarebit enters the lobby of the building and does the meet-and-greet with her mark. Before they embark on their scheduled tour of the facilities, Rarebit wants to make a call on her cell phone. Unfortunately, cell phones aren't allowed inside the facility. Looks like Rarebit will have to use a land line, which, we all know, is what she wanted to do anyway. She makes her "call" and pretends to talk to either her lover or her child (the fact that it's difficult to discern which is extremely disturbing) while Dixon hacks into the system. Yeah, a "business" call probably would have made more sense but -- say it with me -- what-EVER.
Syd practices her Brit accent on her tour guide as they walk through the facilities, discussing the ducts or something. Apparently, the ducts can channel over a million pounds of thrust. Yawn. Just get to the ass-kicking, okay? Syd and her mark enter the elevator, and she asks him for the time. He obliges, and she shoots something at his face from her watch. The mark is down for the count. Way to go, Inspector Dingus!
Syd informs Dix that she'll be in the canal in two minutes. He responds that he's ready and waiting to cut the surveillance feed on her signal. Back in the VIP observation room, the clock above the launch video screen informs us that we now have twenty-three minutes until launch. Sark circles the room as the final checks occur.
Somewhere else in the building, Syd's now sporting a spicy red jumpsuit and spicy red goggles to match her spicy red wig. She struts out to the ducts, opens the suitcase, unfolds the luge, hits the green button, and away we go! By the way, you ride a luge with your feet forward. This contraption has Syd riding face-forward. That ain't a luge. That's a skeleton. I'm just sayin'.
To the tune of several James Bond flicks, Syd shoots down the duct, hitting a top speed of about 125 mph. She parks it just before reaching the launch pad and informs Dixon that she's in place. Dixon shuts down the surveillance for five minutes. The launch clock reads 19:28.
In the VIP observation room, the screens flick to fuzz. Syd climbs to her destination and simply unlocks a panel in the side of the rocket. Yeah, you'd think it would take more than that, but luckily we're all still too wowed by the snazzy "luge" scene to pay too much attention. Syd has a little over three minutes until surveillance is restored.
Meanwhile, Sark's getting antsy in the observation room. Russian Dude informs him that it's just a power surge and the screens will be back up in three minutes. Sark wants to know if there's any other way onto the launch pad that isn't visible from the observation room. Russian Dude says something about the ducts, and Sark immediately knows something's rotten in the civil war state of Sri Lanka. "Move up the launch," he clips. Russian Dude's all, whuh? Sark snits around and intimidates Russian Dude by announcing that if they don't move up the launch, all of Sark's colleagues will assume that Russian Dude and his pals are a bunch of pantywaists. Russian Dude can't have that, so he moves the countdown up.
Dixon informs Syd that she now has less than a minute to finish her task. Yeah, launches are a hell of a lot more precise than this, and moving up a countdown more than twenty minutes is totally unrealistic. Remember the duct? Remember the whippet-fast luge-y thing? Yeah. That was cool, wasn't it? Syd looks terribly panicked, but her lipstick is the perfect shade of spicy red, so we don't notice so much.
Is it wrong that Formula 51 looks like a whole lot of really bad fun? Samuel L. Jackson in a kilt? Robert Carlyle in ANYTHING? God. Me and my fetish for Scottish men. It really must be stopped. Oh. My. Lord. Viggo? Is that you? That fedora looks fantastic on you! And you're wearing a pink shirt! Oh, honey! You're about as easy as a nuclear war! I love you! Mmmm...whipped cream and a kiddie pool! Girls on FILM, baby! Girls on FILM! Oooooh...
Sorry. I just had to take a break there for a minute or ten. Mmmm...Julio! Bring Mommy a fresh pitcher of Mambos and a damp rag! Mommy's keyboard is sticky with whipped cream and champagne!
Right. Syd's scrambling at the rocket. The launch guys are scrambling at the controls. Sark's scrambling at...well, at nothing, actually. He's as cool as a Thai cucumber salad. Dix wants Syd to abort the mission, but she manages to complete it with seconds to spare. She makes it down to the duct with about forty seconds left on the clock. Always thinking ahead, Syd parked her "luge" facing out, probably foreseeing that she was going to have to make a run for it. She launches herself onto the "luge" and then launches the "luge" down the duct.
And the rocket launches itself into the air.
Smoke and fire billow through the ducts, just inches behind the "luge." Sorry to keep using the quotes but, like, it's so NOT a luge, and I just can't bring myself to keep typing "skeleton" because it looks so very wrong. Syd blasts out of the ducts just ahead of the explosion, whips off her spicy red hood, and informs Dix that she'll meet him at the rendezvous point in ten minutes.
Sark watches the launch with grim satisfaction as Syd exits the lobby, her spicy red hair perfectly coiffed again. Guess the drag queen's hairstylist rode up in the elevator with her. Syd hands her pass to the receptionist. "Did you enjoy the launch?" the receptionist asks. "It was a thrill," underplays Syd, channeling Pierce Brosnan.
Back in Hell-Lay, Will walks up to his car and retrieves an envelope from the windshield. The note inside orders him to go to a parking garage behind a bar and grab the elevator. Well, it's either a mash note from a more aggressive secret admirer, or it's the CIA coming to call.
Will follows instructions well and winds up in an elevator with Vaughn. And I have to agree with the posters on this one -- Will? Not so hot with the clean-shaven look. We all apparently dig our Will with a certain amount of facial scruff and a lack of hair gel.
Vaughn hits the stop button, introduces himself, and apologizes for the cloak-and-dagger routine. Will just stares at him, agape. "So, you're Vaughn?" he finally musters. Vaughn's all, yeah, you sound surprised. Why? Did Sydney talk about me? Does she talk about me? Because that would be totally cool, dude. I just dig her the most. Will's all, uh, no, dillweed. "I just thought you'd be...uh...older," stutters Will. Hee. He totally means "uglier," dudes. You can tell he was expecting Martin Landau or something.
Vaughn kind of nods his head in recognition of the fact that Will was expecting someone along the lines of Jon Voight in Mission: Impossible, and tells Will that the CIA wants to bring him in for some hypnotherapy sessions to help Will remember details of his captivity. Will's all, oh, yeah, sure, dude. I'm only trying to recover my life after being pegged a heroin addict; I have all the time in the world to hang out with you idiots and recall details of a time in my life I'd just as soon OBLITERATE FROM MY MEMORY BANK.
Agent Agitation informs Will that there's a car waiting outside to take him to his doom. Will's sorry to say that he has a prior engagement washing cutlery for his restaurateur friend, but he'd be more than happy to oblige at a later date. "Francie," says Vaughn, who of course is privy to every little bit of information about Sydney save her lingerie preferences. "Right," says Will, noticing Vaughn's familiarity with Syd's personal life and not liking it one little bit. "So, tomorrow then?" says Vaughn, making a mental note to tell Syd that Will has terminal flatulence. "Sure, okay," says Will, making a mental note to tell Syd that Vaughn made a pass at him.
Vaughn runs through some more cloak-and-dagger stuff about how Will is going to be contacted tomorrow, but Will is barely paying attention. "So, every time Sydney ran out the door after she got a wrong number," says Will, "she was going to meet you?" Vaughn burbles something about that being protocol and how it's a low-risk way to set up a meet, but again, Will is barely paying attention. "Did you ever give her a picture frame?" asks Will. "It was, like, an antique. She said it was from someone at work. It was probably just...another way to contact her, right? RIGHT?" Vaughn stares down at his shoes as if they're ruby-encrusted and he can just click them together and get his ass back to Kansas pronto. "Actually, no," he says. "That was just a gift." After about five seconds of tense "I totally KNOW what you did last summer" silence, Vaughn hits the stop button again, tells Will it was nice to meet him, and gets the hell out of the elevator. Will just stares after Vaughn, wondering if an Armani suit and a couple of extra forehead wrinkles will convince Syd to allow Will to fondle her frame, if you know what I mean, and I think you do.
Conference Room Of Endless Exposition. Uncle Bonkers is congratulating Syd and Dix on a job well done. Thanks to their efforts, SD-6 now knows that Sark's looking at a twenty-square-mile area of Siberia. Uncle Batshit turns the floor over to Inspector Dingus for a sillier explanation than he himself can provide. Dingus is aware that it appears they're looking at twenty-square-miles of frozen "tundrosity," but they should take a look at it through the terahertz imaging camera. He taps a few keys, and what shows up is an aerial view of the infamous Rambaldi "eye" symbol. Dingus tells them that the satellite is looking at sub-glacial caverns. So, like, there are sub-glacial caverns in the form of the Rambaldi "eye" symbol? Weird. I mean, that is WEIRD. Mulder? What do you think about that? "Weird," says Mulder, paging through the Victoria's Secret catalog. "Definitely weird." Dix asks if the definitely weird Rambaldi ice caverns are natural formations. Dingus doesn't know, and sputters that without actual ice core samples, he can't say anything that they're definitely anything, but, like, WOW.
Lieutenant Looney Bin presses a button and informs the troops that they're now looking at a ten-centimeter resolution. There appears to be an object that's notably composed of metal. "The music box!" screams Syd. "Whuh?" says Captain Crackers. "Oh, I mean, nothing, I, uh, just, did you hear that?" says Syd. "Whuh?" says Detective Demented. "Isn't that Emily's favorite song playing IN YOUR HEAD?" "Whuh?" responds Uncle Unsound. "Uh blubble blubble blubble, thwat thwat thwat! Mommy!"
Sloane actually just orders the team to acquire the metal object before Sark does. But isn't my version more fun? I mean, more fun in a really sick and twisted way? Hey, Sloane! How's Emily's garden? Tell the lawn gnomes I say hi!
Mister Mental tells Syd and Dix that they're venturing out to Siberia, accompanied by a support team that will establish a perimeter with Dix to guard every possible entrance to the cavern. Syd's on point and Dixon's, as usual, NOT. And judging by the expression on Dixon's face as Señor Screwy tells them their flight leaves in four hours, he's none too pleased about hanging out in the subzero temps of Siberia while Syd gets to race around in yet another cute outfit.
Doctor Demento dismisses the troops, but asks Jack-O to stay behind. Syd gives Daddy the eye from the doorway as if to say, "Okay, he's a nutjob. Watch your back. He might just start whipping off his clothes and smearing himself with peanut butter." Turns out, Uncle Unsettled wants to ask Jack for a favor. "I think I may have underestimated the effect that Emily's death would have on me," Sloane says, putting on lipstick and skipping around the room. Jack's all, you're entitled to go a little buggy, dude. I mean, you're a sadistic bastard and all that, but she was your wife, after all. Sloane's all, yeah, whatever -- I can't be deemed crazy in the eyes of the Alliance, dude. I'm insane enough to kill my wife, but I ain't insane enough to ruin my standing in the Billionaire Boys' Club. They take seats, and Sloane requests that Jack monitor his behavior in the coming weeks. "I need you to pull me aside," says Sloane, "if you think that I'm letting my cards show." "Of course," says Jack, making a mental note to hire an Emily look-alike and have her parade around the Sloane mansion during the off-hours. Sloane looks down, his head shaking slightly. "The day before she...the day before she passed, Emily reserved us a suite at our favorite bed-and-breakfast in Sonoma," he says quietly. "Even in her last moments she was planning our future." Cue The Strings Of Sloane's Sanity. "I'm not a spiritual man," continues Sloane, "but I feel, lately, her presence, everywhere around me." Jack looks at Sloane closely, whips out his PDA so he can take notes on this, and says, "Trauma can bring about feelings of metaphysical familiarity. Waking dreams, as it were. On the other hand, who's to say she isn't with you?" Brigadier Bananas just looks down at his clasped fingers.
Wow, Jack. Way to shove Sloane into the realms of la-la land. And so the plan heretofore known as "Operation Gaslighting General Goo-Goo" moves into action.
Headquarters Of Hypnosis. Will's being led into a waking nightmare by a nice lady at a microphone while Syd and her non-boyfriend watch. We go back in time to the moment when Will was shackled on a cargo plane, his face resembling a pepperoni pizza with anchovies. Seriously. The make-up crew went overtime on his face. It looks BAD. Hypno Will tells Hypno Lady that he's on his way to Taipei and he's afraid the baddies are going to kill him. God, this is actually really sad. And Bradley Cooper is doing a royally kick-ass job in the acting department.
"I'm afraid they're going to get Sydney," says Will, crying. Hypno Lady tries to assure Will that he's revisiting what has already happened and that this is just a memory, but considering what kind of shape Will was in at the time, he's having more than a little trouble just "letting go." Hypno Will describes what he sees before him -- namely Sark, working on his laptop, with the screen conveniently facing toward Will. Syd and Vaughn glance at each other.
Hypno Lady wants to know if Will can see what's on the screen. Unfortunately, it's too far away. Oh, and Will was AFRAID HE WAS GOING TO DIE so, like, laptop screens weren't really at the top of his list for observational opportunities. Vaughn steps forward and informs Hypno Lady that Will said in his statement that he was picked up and carried off the cargo plane. "Maybe he got closer," suggests Vaughn. Jesus, Vaughn. Who knew you were so damn ruthless?
Hypno Lady moves Will forward in time to the moment when he was removed from the plane. Hypno Will sees one of Sark's henchmen coming for him and freaks the fuck out. He's scrabbling at his handcuffs, shrinking into his chair, pleading for his life. Syd lunges forward and demands that Hypno Lady wake Will up. Hypno Lady assures Syd that everything's fine; Will's just reliving the WORST FUCKING MOMENT OF HIS LIFE. Yeah, everything's just FINE.
Hypno Lady demands that Will tell her what's happening. Hypno Will, back on the cargo plane, tells Hypno Lady that he's being carried off the plane and that he's passing Sark's computer. She wants to know if he can see what's on it. Hypno Will tells her that he's passing too fast. She tells him to go back and pass again. "This time, when you pass the computer," she says, "I want you to stop." Hypno Will goes back in time, passes the computer, and stops.
"Names," he whispers. "I see names." Hypno Lady asks Will to read them to her. And in an amazing stroke of luck, the names are all that appear on the screen, and because they're in 24-point Arial Bold, they're as easy to read as a billboard on I-294. Will recites them dutifully. Dostoyevsky. Nabokov. Tolstoy. Chekhov. Guess the encoder had a fetish for Russian authors, eh?
Hypno Lady looks to Syd. She nods. Hypno Lady tells Will that when he hears a tone, he'll wake up and feel rested and refreshed and will bok like a chicken any time someone says the word "dude." She sounds the tone and tells Syd and Vaughn to wait a minute while she checks Will's vitals. Will looks out at Sydney, tears in his eyes, and Syd kind of smiles sympathetically at him, then turns to Vaughn. He quietly asks if she's okay. "I doubt the code that activates Rambaldi's music box is a list of Russian authors," she says, all business. "It must be some kind of cipher text." "Look," says Vaughn, engaging his forehead-wrinkling mechanism, "under normal circumstances, I would never ask this, but would you kiss me? Just once? It doesn't even have to be with tongue!" Actually, he just asks her to talk to her mother. Again. Some more. For those of you keeping track, this latest painful request for Syd to painfully talk to her painful mother is officially Number Three.
"Your mother is the only person who can translate those names for us by the time you leave," he says, adding several more endearing furrows to his brow. "If your mother will give us the code to activate the music box, well, we'd want you to activate the music box on site. You'll get it to play and we'll record the music through your com link. Then you'll destroy it." Syd doesn't have time to answer, because Hypno Lady beckons her into Will's hypno room. Vaughn watches her enter and tenderly touch Will's arm, more than a hint of jealousy crossing his features. Vaughn makes a note in his PDA to use the word "dude" at every convenient moment when in the presence of Will.
Then we're hangin' with Mama Hari as Syd reads off the names from Sark's computer. "I want you to translate them for me," states Syd. "Give me your pencil and paper," says Mama Hari. Syd's all, uh, no. Mama Hari's all, look, I can't decipher it without a writing implement and some papyrus. So hand it over! Syd breaks off a piece of her pencil, rolls up the piece of paper with the words on it, and shoves both through the steel grate.
"Plum Island Animal Disease Center," says Mama Hari, licking the pencil lead with the tip of her tongue. "Sounds charming." "Whuh?" responds Syd. "Oh, nothing. What did Miggs say to you? Multiple Miggs in the cell. He hissed at you. What did he say?" "Whuh?" asks Syd. "Who's Miggs? There are no other cells in this godforsaken shithole. What in the HELL are you talking about?" "Quid pro quo, Clarice," hisses Mama Hari. "'Clarice'?!" screams Syd. "I know you haven't been around in twenty years, but you could AT LEAST REMEMBER MY FUCKING NAME!"
Whoops. Must have been that viewing of Red Dragon I had earlier today. Excuse me.
Irina puts the scrap of paper up against the glass and starts working on the code. Sydney stares at her. Irina works quickly, pencil stub scraping against glass. "You know," she says, still working, "you haven't yet asked me how I could shoot my own daughter." Irina looks directly at Sydney. "No, I haven't," responds Syd. They glare at each other. Irina pushes the paper and pencil back through the steel grate.
"I assume you wouldn't need this combination so urgently," says Irina, "if you didn't know where the music box was." Syd unfolds the paper and looks at it. "Sark won't hesitate to kill you," says Irina. "And I don't want to lose the chance to explain myself someday." Syd says nothing and moves toward the exit. She stops as the gate opens and turns back to her mother. Cue The Strings Of Sydney's Secret Turmoil. "About the Thanksgiving play," she says. "I was a turkey." Instead of laughing out loud and going, "A TURKEY! BWA HA HA!" Irina's eyes well up with tears and she whispers, "Thank you." Sydney leaves, and Irina and her reflection share a moment.
Elsewhere in the Operations Center, Jack watches the video image of his daughter leaving Mama Hari's cell. Yeah. He's not very happy about the shared turkey moment.
Speaking of turkey...Julio! Bring Mommy a snack! Viggo's too busy watching old Spandau Ballet videos to make me a sandwich. What? What are you doing with that...KNIFE! Julio! Julio! Calm down, Julio! Mommy just wanted a sandwich! Oh, for God's sake, Julio! Put the knife down or Mommy will burn you with her cigarette butt. Ow. OW! Julio, knives are meant for cutting lettuce and threatening stalkers; they're not meant for hurting the women who rescue you from seedy Florida cabanas! Is that blood? Oh, Sweet Jesus...
THWACK! Whuh? Julio? Where's my -- Viggo! Viggo, my hero! Oh, sweetie! I'm so glad you saved all of your props from Lord of the Rings! I knew that sword would come in handy at some point. I mean, other than those times when I'm feeling like a wayward bar wench who needs some discipline. Look at you, all handsome and dressed in white linen, brandishing a fake plastic sword that's drenched in the blood of my manservant! You are so HOT! Take me, eighties-drenched Aragorn! TAKE ME!
Ahem.
Siberia. Land Of Sub-Zero Temperatures And Films Involving Mikhail Baryshnikov. Syd shows up, wearing an extremely adorable white snow-bunny outfit, complete with gloves that don't meet the ends of her sleeves and a delightful hood with fox fur trim. Her accompanying team members, including Dixon, are sporting arctic wear that might possibly help them survive more than five minutes in temperatures falling below, say, thirty degrees, but Syd's all about fashion over function, so she's going with the Isaac Mizrahi-inspired Nanook Of The North ensemble.
In an effort to illustrate to the viewing audience just how damn cold it is on the back lot at ABC studios, the makeup crew has stapled plaster of Paris all over the faces of Sydney and Dixon and their nameless cohorts. This plaster of Paris is supposed to represent snow. It doesn't. It represents plaster of Paris.
Dixon shouts over the wind machine that he can't detect any other people in the immediate vicinity. "Looks good!" he shouts, wondering why, just ONCE, he couldn't be assigned to a job that allows him to parade around in a cute outfit complete with wicked-cool sunglasses. "We're all alone out here!" he states. Dixon then directs the two hapless soon-to-be-dead team members to guard the other two entrances. Syd moves off to enter the caverns. Dix instructs her to watch her step. "You fall through the ice, it'll freeze over in four seconds!" "Good to know!" Syd yells, echoing my sentiments exactly, and with almost the same intonation. She enters the cavern.
Speaking of caverns...Uncle Unbalanced is hanging out at his desk, minding his own business and plotting the destruction of the universe, when his phone rings. He picks up. The line is full of static and fuzzy voices. Inspector Insane hits the hang-up and asks whomever answers for a trace on the call he just received. Seconds later, the voice comes back and informs Monsieur Non Compos Mentis that the call came from the Baranca Bed & Breakfast in Sonoma County, California. Arvin "Nutsy" Sloane holds the phone in his hand and wonders whether or not it's about time he stopped taking all those crazy pills.
Back in Siberia, Dixon's requesting that all of the guards report in. They do. They're all alone out there. Or are they? Dix checks in with Syd. She informs him that she's flying solo on this one. Or is she? She's entering an ice cavern that resembles that remote ice cavern Superman visited with all those video-laden ice crystals. Remember? When Superman entered the ice cave and touched the plastic ice crystals and they moved and he was treated to movies starring Marlon Brando? Or was that just me on a mushroom-induced hallucination, thinking my Tupperware housed rare Brando footage?
Well, Superman's nowhere in sight and Syd's still sporting the ridiculous fur hood and the plaster of Paris facial snow, so perhaps it was just the 'shrooms. Syd finally comes upon the music box, just sitting in the middle of an ice bureau, untouched by the elements. Syd informs Dix that the ice in the tunnel's a little shaky, so she's going radio silent until she passes through. Yeah, it doesn't make sense to me either, but Dix buys it, so who the hell cares?
As Syd's preparing to futz with the music box, Irina's in her cell, performing a series of non-yogic push-ups. Lena Olin? Who's your trainer, girl? Because you have arms that I would KILL for! Irina hears the gates open to her cell. She turns and sees Jack standing in front of the glass. She breaks her exercise routine and gets up to greet him.
"Hey. How are ya? How's things been since I disappeared in my false death? Did you water the plants? Are you eating well? What'd you do with my TV Guide subscription? What's happening on Knots Landing?" Irina says, whipping up a batch of martinis. "Oh, I'm good," says Jack, lighting a cigarette. "I've developed a taste for grain alcohol and a deep-seated sense of morality, but I did manage to water the plants and the ferns are in GREAT shape! I order in, mostly, but the food from Spoon Thai is really fresh and exciting. Sorry to say, I let the TV Guide subscription lapse; you were always more into the shows than I was. And I hate to be the one to tell you this, but Knots Landing? Gone, baby. Gone." Irina just laughs and pours Jack a drink and they spend the couple of hours chatting about the years they've missed.
Actually, Irina just gets up, and she and Jack stare at each other for a good solid minute before Irina opens her mouth. "I've had a picture of your face in my mind for twenty years," she says seductively. "I remember a loving husband. A generous man. A patriot." Jack glares at her. "I may have been under orders," she continues, "to fabricate a life with you, but there were times when the illusion of our marriage was as powerful for me as it was for you. Especially when Sydney was born. Looking at you now, I see that illusion has finally gone." "I want to make something very clear to you," gruffs Jack, in a way that suggests he has an AK-47 hidden behind his back and he will MAKE it clear if need be. "There are people here who believe you can repay the debt you owe this country through your continued cooperation. I am not one of them. And if Sydney, in any way, becomes victim to your end game, I will kill you." Irina just smiles at him. "She's spent most of her life believing you were dead," he continues. "She'll get used to it again. No matter what 'bond' you try to forge with her."
Jack turns to leave. As the gates screech open, Irina delivers her parting blow. "You haven't told her what you did to her after I disappeared, have you?" Jack stops momentarily. Irina just glowers at him from behind her glass cage. He leaves, finally, knowing that, yet again, his bitch of an ex-wife has bested him.
Meanwhile, Syd's knocking the lock off the metal container. Inside is the ancient Rambaldi music box. Syd checks in with Vaughn and pulls the music box out of the container. She flips the lid and reveals an archaic version of a turntable. Both Kendall and Vaughn are listening in. "Stand by," she says. "I'm going to enter the code my mother gave me." Look. I don't mean to be a stickler for these things but, like, wasn't Syd all "don't refer to her as my mother" earlier in the show? If she has such a problem with the whole "mother" issue, well, shouldn't the writers stick with it throughout, at least, THE EPISODE? Like, shouldn't she be saying, "I'm going to enter the code Derevko gave me"? I mean, considering Syd's penchant for using last names and all, it would seem more normal, and certainly more cohesive as the story goes, for Syd to refer to her mother by her given Russian name.
I'm just sayin'.
Anyway, as Syd prepares to enter the code that the woman who is her mother only by circumstance gave her, Dixon's receiving signals indicating that they are, indeed, not alone out there. The soon-to-be-dead guys agree that there are some peoples comin', and they should be right on top of them, according to the radar, but no one's showing up in person. Dixon reads on his PDA radar thingy that there are multiple bodies coming in, but there's still no physical sign of them.
Aliens, anyone?
Dix is frantically trying to get Syd on the horn, to no avail. She's too busy entering the code to bother going off radio silent. As soon as she enters the code, the music box starts playing a tune. Syd moves her watch closer to the box in order to transmit the music to Vaughn and Kendall. Vaughn gets this look on his face that's like, "Hey! That's the song my dad used to sing to me when he put me to bed!"
Back out on The Frozen Tundra Of Impending Phantom Attacks, Dix is trying to tell the soon-to-be-dead guys that their invading forces are RIGHT THERE IN FRONT OF THEM. Only, they're not. In front of them, that is. Instead, they're UNDER them. As one of the soon-to-be-dead guys quickly discovers. Bullets shoot forth from the ice as Dixon realizes that their enemies are indeed under the ice. He tries to warn the other soon-to-be-dead guy, but he's too late. Guess that takes care of the two soon-to-be-dead guys.
Dixon shoots the shit out of the ice and tries once again to signal Sydney in order to tell her that the threat is beneath them. Syd's finishing up her Sugarcubes recording session and confirms that the CIA received the full transmission. They confirm it, and Syd sprays some corrosive stuff all over the music box, destroying it. She places it into her little metal suitcase and tunes in to her favorite SD-6 station just in time to hear Dixon going apeshit. "I read you, Dixon," she says. "What's wrong?" "Get outta there!" he shouts. "Sark's here!"
And so he is. In all his satiny black-clad glory.
Syd turns to face Sark, her plaster of Paris snow not budging an inch. "Put the case down," Sark instructs. She drops it. "Slide it over," he says. She slides it. "It was you giving us problems at the launch," he says, picking up the case. "I'd offer you passage back to civilization, but my submersible only seats four." Syd just looks at him. "It's the thought that counts," she smirks, grabbing her handy little ice hammer. She flings it at Sark's leg. He falls back in pain, and his machine gun fires in rapid succession. Syd makes a break for it, but the bullets from Sark's gun create a break in the ice. Syd falls through.
Remember that thing Dixon said about the ice freezing over in four seconds? Yeah. That was good to know. Unfortunately, it doesn't help Syd when she's trapped under ice in her pristine snow-bunny outfit and matching white headband.
on Alias: Spy Daddy has a secret, and the only one who knows just what it is Mama Hari. Think she's gonna tell Spy Barbie? Yeah, me too.