Warning: I have not recapped so much as a toothpaste commercial in about a year and a half. You may want to go get a tetanus shot before you proceed, because I might be very rusty.
Previously on Alias, Regina was a really good writer, and also very pretty.
A! L! I! A! S! Sydney told Irina she'd be on the team that found and disarmed the nuclear warheads, and that she needed Irina's help. Jack gave Irina a pretty necklace. The Bristows ran afoul of Pakistani revolutionaries in Kashmir, and used Irina's pretty necklace to blow them up real good. Then they made with the machine guns.
Thusly caught up, we cut to the CIA, where some bespectacled, sort of Randall Batinkoff-y dude is watching a monitor. He sees a little green blob, accompanied by gentle peeping, and tears out of his seat over to Vaughn. Vaughn is on the phone, and because he's talking to a Dr. Phil producer about appearing on an upcoming show about emotional cowardice, he gives Agent Notinkoff the "one second" finger of warning. Agent Notinkoff breathlessly tells Vaughn that the necklace has been deactivated. Vaughn ditches his phone call and follows Agent Notinkoff back to his desk; Agent Notinkoff says the necklace was deactivated "just now," that he has confirmed it, and that satellite imagery detects combat. Vaughn's all, "Combat?" As if to say, "Yes, combat!", the editor cuts to a shot from just before the end of the last episode: Sydney shooting the hell out of the revolutionaries, then the necklace toss, and so forth. Back at the CIA, Vaughn leans in to peer at Agent Notinkoff's monitor, where the formerly green blob is now red. Ooh, that's probably not good. Vaughn and Notinkoff gape, slack-jawed, at the monitor. Vaughn tentatively asks, "What just happened?" Notinkoff tells him, "It's over." We know what it means, but as far as the CIA knows, what is over? The threat? Combat? Prada? Vaughn asks whether Notinkoff can tell whether there are any survivors. "Not with this bird," Notinkoff replies. "We need new satellites," Vaughn pouts. Well, Vaughn, given that it took the CIA two months just to get Irina a pillow, you might want to get that purchase order in sooner than later. (And seriously, I know she's evil and all, but two months she had to wait for a damn pillow? You get better service than that on Southwest, for God's sake.)
Elsewhere in the CIA, FBI Assistant Director Kendall is mad. He used a takeout container to warm up his macaroni in the microwave, and the damn thing melted! Also, that whole thing with the Bristows being missing, and possibly dead. He's pissed about that too: "Even if they survive, sending in a team is out of the question." Vaughn, trailing after him, presses, "Why? They're on an authorized mission..." "A clandestine mission," Kendall corrects him. Kendall explains that if the CIA swoops in and starts tearing up the Kashmiri countryside in search of the Bristows, "the Indian government is going to figure out that Pakistani-supported rebels in Azad Kashmir have acquired nuclear weapons. They're gonna launch pre-emptive strikes, the Pakistanis are going to retaliate, and I'm going to get called in front of half a dozen Congressional committees demanding to know why we screwed up!" Kendall winds up by saying that his official position is that they need to make the problem disappear; he says he wants an options paper from Vaughn in two hours. Kendall starts to stomp away. Vaughn clenches his jaw, hesitates for a second, and then goes stomping after Kendall, saying, "And after that, I'd like to look quietly for the Bristows myself." Kendall duhs back, "Nuclear weapons. NUCLEAR." Vaughn says he understands. Kendall breaks it down even further: "Nucle. Nu. N!" Not really: "I shouldn't have to define your priorities for you." Vaughn says he doesn't think the CIA should just cut the Bristows loose. Kendall cares about one guy: Kendall. Oh, and the greater good of the American people. Kendall lays out a little tough love, Kendall-style: "Look: alive or dead, the mission failed. So if the Bristows are out there, they're on their own." He takes off before Vaughn can come up with a rejoinder that is either witty or persuasive.
That other agent -- the really hot bald agent who told Vaughn about that bomber dude who planted the bomb in Madagascar for Jack that Jack then blamed on Irina? That guy? -- comes up to Vaughn and hands him a Top Secret memo, inviting Vaughn to check it out. Vaughn duly does check it out; all we see is the excerpts reading, "NUCLEAR WEAPONS ACTIVATION" and "nukes are prepped." As Vaughn continues to stare real hard, Agent Baldy comments, "Nothing like more bad news, huh?" He leaves before Vaughn can admonish, "Nuclear weapons! NUCLEAR! Nu! CLE! Wait a second, I'm not finished yet: AR!" But he's thinking it, you can tell.
In the scrubby, dry brush of "India," the Bristows are enjoying a nice family nature hike. Sydney and Jack argue over whether the gun-toting dudes they just mowed down were a roving gang of toughs (like, what -- a subcontinental branch of the Bloods? Would-be drive-by shooters working for Far East Coast rappers?) or soldiers of the PRF. Irina agrees with Jack that they must have been PRF, purring, "We had one advantage: surprise. Now that's gone." "Just a second," Sydney huffs. Jack refuses to pull over, because Sydney just went at the last rest area and if she wouldn't drink so many Capri Suns they'd already be at Grandma's house by now, and Sydney is just going to have to learn to hold it. Sydney begs to stop, because this is the rest area with the penny press and she wants to press a penny with a picture of Strawberry Shortcake, but Jack says no, they really can't stop, because more patrols could be in the area. Sydney ignores him and sits down with a heavy sigh on a little knoll.
As she reaches down to pull up her pants leg, both Jack and Irina stop and turn back, asking what happened. Sydney tries to be a hero, saying she just scraped her leg. When the camera zooms in on her injury, I'm with her; it's not pretty, but it doesn't look that bad -- just a narrow, two-inch cut surrounded by a mildly angry contusion. But Jack and Irina practically break their necks to come to her aid, like, springing into action with much more ferocity than they showed when she got shot just a few hours earlier, never mind the time Irina was the one who shot her. Jack busts out some first aid gear, and Irina comes back with some conveniently nearby berries that conveniently possess the power to soothe skin. But Sydney shakes them off: "Seriously, I'm fine." "You're not fine," snaps Jack. "No, you're not fine," Irina immediately agrees. For a moment, both parents have their hands on Sydney's leg to apply the dressing. Sydney's eyes go all gooey with gratitude to see them working together at ministering to her, and regret that she missed out on seeing her parents this way most of her life.
Irina takes this quiet moment to talk tactics, saying she knows Jack wants to get to Srinagar, but that she has a contact much closer, in Jaipur, and that said contact is reliable. Jack takes this opportunity to play his "CIA Agent" card, trumping her "Traitor To America" card, and says he's in charge of this mission. He briefly sprays the area with exposition, reminding us...I mean, "her" why she's even on this mission when she's a prisoner; she's to use her knowledge of the rebels' base to get Jack and Sydney in, but Jack will be using contacts he knows and trusts. Irina looks calm and resigned, because every time the CIA says that, she ends up being right, and they end up eating shit. Sydney's eyes flick from Jack to Irina all, "Daddy, don't yell at Mom!," but no one says anything. Jack gets up and asks Sydney if she's okay to go on; she is (duh). Jack starts walking, so Irina uses this opportunity to play Daughtie against Daddy: "This is not a power play. The facility we're headed for -- security's tighter than the NSA. If we don't have the right equipment, it's pointless." She fixes Sydney with her laser stare, but Sydney dodges it: "We should move." "Okay," murmurs Irina, helping Sydney up. Irina and her hot ass saunter off into the sun...rise? I guess?
Mountains. Rocks. Dust. The three Bristows come over the crest of a hill and stop, staring down at a train pulling into a tiny station.
In a freight car, Sydney eats what looks like a pita, sans hummus. Jack takes a pull off a bottle of what I'm guessing is...light rum? The label has a couple of palm trees on it, anyway. Irina narrows her eyes, catlike, and gazes at Jack. After a moment, she catches his eye, and he hands her the bottle. As it passes between them, we see Sydney's face in the space above their arms; she has this great look on her face -- her eyes really wide and the corners of her mouth sort of turned down in surprise, like, "Well, how do you like that!" Irina smirks and takes a long sip, smiling ruefully and shaking her head slightly as it goes down. Jack smiles back at her and says, "I know what you're thinking." "Do you?" she asks, smiling warmly. "The toaster," he tells her. She grins and chuckles throatily. Sydney smiles tentatively, like she doesn't know whether to be pleased by her parents' sudden détente or very, very scared. She hesitantly asks Jack what they're talking about. Irina grins, signaling Jack to tell the story, which he does, as Irina returns the bottle: "We used to have this toaster at home. It was broken. And using it one night, I started a small fire." Irina picks up the yarn: "We had something like this to drink, and we both had a little too much." Jack says he forgot about the toast he was making, and Irina laughs again, delightedly. "When was this?" Sydney asks. Irina says it happened when Sydney was four. Irina says there was so much smoke, they had to move out of the house for a week, and into a hotel. "The Summit," Jack remembers. "The Summit," Irina agrees wistfully. "Wait, was that the hotel with the sundaes?" Sydney asks. Both Jack and Irina confirm that it was. Jack smiles nostalgically, saying he thinks Sydney had one every night. Irina beams some more. For a prisoner of the state, she has really nice teeth. Jack and Irina exchange a look, and you know -- you know -- that if Sydney weren't there, they'd be christening that freight car, and I do not mean with champagne. Sydney looks pitifully ecstatic over this display of fondness between Irina and Jack (I mean she's happy about the FONDNESS, not the lust, although the lust is there too). Jack quickly snaps out of it and says they should get some sleep. Very slowly, Sydney's face falls as she recognizes that the moment is over. Jack gets up and goes...somewhere. To the open door of the car, I think, to take a deep breath of fresh air. Irina watches him, smirking a little.
SRINAGAR. A bazaar. Will and Grace's neighbour, Mr. Zamir, wanders through the marketplace in a turban, nodding at acquaintances as he goes. When he gets to (presumably) his own stall, he sees the Bristows, all tricked out in their black guerrilla gear, waiting for him. Mr. Zamir recognizes Jack and greets him warmly. Jack says they need Mr. Zamir's help. Mr. Zamir observes that "no one can see [them] dressed like this," by which I assume he means that if anyone did, the Bristows' cover would be blown, and not, say, that their dress makes them invisible. Though I'm sure Marshall is working on a Cloak Of Invisibility back at SD-6 even as they speak.
Mr. Zamir closes the batik sheet that encloses his stall -- because now their stronghold is totally impenetrable; there's no way a terrorist will be able to find his way through a sheet -- and he and Jack make small talk. He makes a lame joke, at which Sydney smiles politely. Mr. Zamir starts to ask her, "Are you who I think...?" and then asks Jack, "Is she yours?" Irina lets pass the opportunity to reply, "As far as he knows." Instead, she allows herself a subtle, proud smile. Jack says that Sydney is his daughter. Mr. Zamir tells Sydney, "He always brags about you. He showed me a picture once --" Sydney starts to stand up straighter, looking interested, but before Mr. Zamir can elaborate on what a sappy dad Jack is outside Sydney's company, Jack interrupts, telling Mr. Zamir what they're doing and what stuff they'll need. Mr. Zamir tries to press the point about Sydney, and Jack is all, "MISTER Zamir!" and then they stare at each other for a few seconds before Mr. Zamir backs down. He tells Jack he'll be able to hook them up with some of what they want, but not all: his main supplier is dead. "Saresh was killed?" Jack asks, shocked. "Heart attack," says Mr. Zamir, adding, "We are old men, Jack. We don't live forever -- especially in Kashmir." Jack looks annoyed at the "we" part of Mr. Zamir's statement, but doesn't comment. Mr. Zamir will get them aliases, basic weapons, and access to satellite phones and transportation. He asks what they're up against; Irina explains: "Biometric sensors, dual infrared passive and microwave sensors, fiber optics on the fence." Mr. Zamir asks their time frame; Irina says they're already behind schedule. Mr. Zamir soft-sells them, saying he'll do what he can but it may not be enough. Jack insists that they'll take whatever Mr. Zamir can provide. Irina's head whips around to look at Jack, as if she's spoiling for an argument, but he shoots her a look and she turns back, saying nothing. Mr. Zamir opens a cupboard, saying, "First thing: you need to be looking not like you." "Yay, disguises!" squeals my sister, Toque.
From the hot pinks and oranges of India, we cut back to the grim blues and greys of the boring, sterile old CIA. Vaughn stalks through the office and to a desk, where he puts on a phone headset. "Hello?" he says breathlessly. "Hi. I'm on a secure line," says Sydney's tinny little phone voice. Vaughn lets out an eight-million-decibel sigh of relief; he says they saw the blast, and asks what happened. Sydney -- now done up Indian-style, complete with dangly gold earrings and a bindi -- says she'll fill him in later, but that they were compromised. Vaughn blurts, "I'm so glad you're okay" (of course), and asks after Jack and Irina; Sydney ignores his gladness at her okayness and exhales, "You know, some people go miniature golfing with their parents; we go to India and look for nukes." Oh, boo hoo! You know, Sydney, it's not like you didn't have any choice about becoming a spy. You act like you were somehow programmed to do it against your will by an '80s-era brainwashing scheme that...oh. Right.
Also, the whole "we go to India and look for nukes" line reminds me of those new Sony (I think) ads with the older people who go to outer space or into the ocean to hang with sharks, documenting the whole thing on their Sony (I think) camcorders, and then the tag line is something like, "When your kids ask where the money went, show them the tape." Like, maybe the one could be a spot with a couple of handsome older people gleefully picking their way through a minefield and mugging like their legs are getting blown off and pretending to scratch their backs with plutonium rods and stuff, and then: "Show them the tape." And then cut back to one of the handsome older people with his leg blown off, watching the tape all, "Man. Good times." Anyway. Vaughn tells Sydney about the communication the CIA intercepted, saying the rebels are going to activate the nukes at 1700 hours. "'Activate' how?" Sydney has the foresight to ask. Vaughn says they don't know. "Deploy? Detonate?" Sydney demands. Vaughn says the word the communication used was "activate": "It might mean delivery, maybe detonation -- we don't know. But we have to assume the worst, since they got the control codes through SD-6." Sydney exposits that, since she got the control codes for SD-6, she can deactivate the nukes. "If you get there in time," Vaughn agrees. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Desk Boy!" Sydney does not reply.
Sydney emerges from whatever sheet cubicle she was in, looking anxious. From the other side of the stall come both Jack and Irina, in costume. The first thing you have to notice is that it looks like they changed in the same part of the tent, so maybe they had another moment in which Jack got all het up by the sight of Irina in her gitch. And since I got all het up by the sight of Irina in her gitch the last time, I think it's a fair bet that Jack did. The second thing you have to notice is that Jack has been fitted with an AWESOME fake beard. It's Beardwiser, King of Beards. Seriously, it is so deliciously big and bushy you could lose a beetle in there and never find it -- never even know it was there. No, a Volkswagen Beetle. And its driver. And the salesman from the VW dealership. You could cut a swatch from this beard, irradiate it, and in forty-eight hours, you'd have grown yourself the fourth member of ZZ Top. This show has had some very talented performers in its supporting cast over the course of its first season and a half, but this beard is my favourite so far. This beard deserves its own Emmy clip. And then, when it gets nominated for an Emmy, the beard should get to ride to the Emmys in a stretch limo with a hot tub in the back, and with Charlize Theron as its date. Best. Beard. EVER.
So Irina and Jack and Jack's beard meet up with Sydney and Mr. Zamir. Jennifer Garner shows what a consummate professional she is by not bursting into hysterical laughter at the sight of the beard, which makes me wonder how many takes they had to do to get this scene. Or maybe they exposed the actors to the beard one by one, in a quiet room, accompanied by a trained counsellor who could help them to confront and talk through the issues raised by the presence of the beard, before they were put into a position where they had to act with the beard. You know, like how you teach kids not to be scared of dogs, for instance. Or maybe they just had to shock the actors with the beard -- like, Victor Garber showed up for work that day, knowing from the script that it was the day he'd have to wear a fake beard, and he got to the set, and opened his trailer, and he can't quite get the door open -- he's pushing on it, and suddenly the door gives, and MY GOD, there it is! BEARDZILLA! And then after Victor Garber has a mild cardiac episode as a result of his confrontation with the beard, J.J. Abrams takes the beard across the path to where Jennifer Garner is working out with her Krav Maga trainer and is like, "Hey, Jennifer," and she turns around, and J.J. Abrams is gone, and in his place, MY GOD, there it is! COUNT BEARDULA! And she faints...but I do go on, and all of this is neither beard nor there. Mr. Zamir tells Irina, Jack, and Jack's beard that his truck is waiting on the other side of the market. Jack says he owes Mr. Zamir. Irina asks Mr. Zamir what kind of air filter the truck has. Mr. Zamir shrugs that it's a foam filter. Irina shortly informs him, "That won't work," and we know she must be right, because she's always right, and also, she's not the one wearing the crazy, mind-bending beard. She explains -- over Jack's evident annoyance at her interference -- that a foam filter will "clog up from the desert conditions." Jack ignores her, telling Mr. Zamir that they will return the truck as soon as they can. Irina insists that the truck will never get them to the base. Jack essentially snits at her to shut the hell up. She starts arguing her case -- making poor Mr. Zamir very uncomfortable, surely, and embarrassing Sydney, who finally snaps, "Listen to me, both of you! We have a job to do. Your issues are going to have to be dealt with later." More quietly, she asks Mr. Zamir to excuse them. He leaves -- muttering something ("in foreign language," according to the captions) about Jack's tight ass and Irina's even tighter one.
Sydney takes two steps forward and hisses at her parents, "Right now, we have six suitcase nukes that are going to be activated tomorrow." Jack interrupts to ask whether the CIA has confirmed that. Jack's beard interrupts to say that it would be a lot happier on the chin of a biker from Bakersfield. Sydney replies, "CIA doesn't have any details. They want us to deactivate the nukes and steal them." Jack blusters, "The CIA needs to get authorization for a preemptive strike, now." Sydney says that, first, the CIA needs confirmation that the nukes are there. Jack says it'll be too late by then. "Not if we work together," Sydney tells him. "This is the way it's going to be: Dad will decide how we get to the base. It's his call. Once we arrive, Mom takes over." To Irina, Sydney says, "You were an officer there; you know your way around. You'll lead us into the facility, to the nukes, and back out." Turning to Jack, Sydney continues, "Then you will resume control and get us home. There will be no objections to and no deviations from this plan." Sydney stares at each parent, challenging him and then her to argue -- which neither does. Jack's beard starts to raise a few bristles in disagreement, but Jack quickly pats them down into submission.
Pan up the front grill of a red truck, and around the cab to the bed. Jack and his beard are standing in the bed with a large round lid in his hands; he explains, "Three of these bins are full of grain; Irina, you'll be in the fourth." Sydney immediately violates her own "no objections" rule by drawling, "You cannot be serious." Jack lays out his reasoning: first, Irina is the most likely to be recognized. Also, the rebels are looking for a three-person team, so they'll be most likely to escape detection if they "alter [their] configuration." Irina haughtily climbs onto the bed and into the fourth bin, which Jack covers (ably assisted by the beard). "Are you sure she can breathe in there?" asks Sydney. Jack pauses a long moment and does this sort of half-nod, like, "I don't give a shit." And then the beard gives her this look like, "What he said."
Driving. Countryside. Sydney and the beard play the license plate game. At some point, the truck stops. We cut to the cab interior, and...God, NO! Jack is pawing at his face with a makeup-removal pad! THE BEARD IS GONE! I guess the episode was running long, so the director had to cut the scene where Sydney argues strenuously for the preservation of the beard, all, "The beard stays -- YOU go!" Anyway. Jack, sans beard, stares out the windshield for a moment. Sydney, riding shotgun, quietly prods, "Dad, we need to get moving." Jack says he knows: "I'm just preparing myself to let Irina out." Sydney tells him it'll be fine. Jack sighs, "Sydney, I've been doing this job a long time. So when you lectured me about continuing the mission, laying down protocol --" Sydney interrupts to explain why she said what she did, but Jack interrupts her back: "I know what your point was, and the truth is, I needed to hear it. I'm proud of you. That's all." They stare at each other. Jack gets out of the truck. Sydney looks oddly wounded, considering that she just achieved the greatest victory a child can claim over a parent: being there to hear when the parent admits that he is wrong, and the child is right. Or maybe Sydney looks wounded because she misses the beard. Yes, that must be it.
Jack uncovers the fourth grain bin; Irina slowly looks up, and Jack offers a hand to help her out. She's slightly mussed, but looks fine otherwise. She takes a few deep, gasping breaths. Sydney proffers a plastic bottle of water, from which Irina gulps a few sips. As she swallows, she looks around, and then demands, "What are we doing here? This is not the drop." She blinks in recognition and accusingly asks Jack, "The filter got clogged, didn't it?" Jack purses his lips and says nothing, because he doesn't want to admit that the filter did get clogged...by the beard. Irina bitterly chucks the water bottle back at Sydney. Jack starts unloading gear from one of the bins as Irina declares, "We're still ten miles away from the base. We need to hike to the field, where we'll access a sewage tunnel. That'll lead us into the facility." Sydney says she thought Irina said security was heavy. Irina says, "It is, on the other side of the facility. At the entry point we're using, the rebels rely on land mines to keep intruders away." Jack stops unloading the gear to spit, "We don't have the equipment to detect land mines." Irina fixes him with her glare to remind him, "We don't have the equipment because your contact didn't come through. I know where the mines are planted." Jack incredulously asks, "You want to walk through a mine field you haven't seen in nineteen years" Sydney interrupts to ask, "Is there another way?" Jack finishes, "--and assume no new mines have been planted?" Irina drawls, "I just spent five hours in a grain bin. It's my turn now." Sydney gazes serenely up at Jack like, "You had your chance, buddy." "Let's get to it," Irina concludes. And now, Sydney will be able to see which of her parents really is the better spy. Whee!
Credits. And only eighteen paragraphs in. Golly.
Back in Los Angeles, Sark and Sloane are having a conference. Sark says he just spoke with Gerard Cuvee, leader of the PRF: "He's quite charming, really -- more like a banker than a rebel leader. But then, you're more of a money man, too, aren't you." Sloane morosely slumps into his office chair, scotch in hand, and grunts, "Is everything in place?" Sark says the nuclear cores will be activated at 1700 hours, and that once "it's done," they'll upload the results to the SD-6 server. Sloane's phone rings; a receptionist tells him someone's calling about Sloane's wife. Sloane tells the receptionist to record the call, and curtly tells Sark he needs some privacy. Sark ambles off.
"Yeah," Sloane says defeatedly into the phone. A vocodered voice at the other end replies, "Romantic touch, don't you think? Your wife's ring finger. And by now, your lab's concluded that despite your best efforts, you didn't kill Emily. And now I have her." "What do you mean?" Sloane snips. "One hundred million in bearer bonds," says the voice. "This is about money?" Sloane hisses. "Everything is about money," the voice replies. Drop details have been emailed to Sloane, who has twenty-four hours to respond: "Fail to deliver the bonds, and the delivery will go to the Alliance." Sloane looks like he's going to cy. He stares real hard.
Back in India, the Bristows walk very carefully through a minefield, Irina leading the way. Sydney asks where the PRF got all the mines. Irina executes the trademark Lady Bristow hair tuck and replies, "You Americans have the worst inventory controls in the world." The Bristows continue tiptoeing through the exploding tulips as Irina politely asks, "So, Sydney, how's school?" She's still in school? (I know she's still in school; I was just pretending I was on the Alias writing staff.) Sydney says, "I'm writing my dissertation...supposedly." Jack stops dead -- presumably to deliver a stinging rant on what he's been writing all those cheques for if Sydney can't even be arsed to do her homework or go to class -- and instructs Sydney and Irina to be quiet. He looks around at the trees, out of which suddenly pop several guerrillas, who open fire. Irina quickly instructs Sydney and Jack as to where to take cover without treading on any mines, and Jack and Sydney start shooting. The guerrillas rudely shoot back. "I need a gun, Jack," Irina begs. Jack glances at her briefly, but doesn't tarry long in thinking it over before tossing her the one slung over his shoulder. As he throws, a guerrilla shoots Jack in the chest, and he falls back. Sydney and Irina keep shooting, and easily take care of all their opponents. Jack struggles to sit up, but Irina commands, "Don't move!" Sydney and Jack snap to look at her, and she adds, "You're on a mine." Cut back to Jack's face, as we all get an idea of what Victor Garber might look like if he shat his pants.
Irina moves toward Jack. Sydney heedlessly makes to follow, but Irina stops her, telling her how many steps to take and in which directions in order to avoid mines and reach Jack. Sydney asks whether Jack is hurt, but he obviously isn't; the bullet hit his vest. Irina and Sydney, kneeling beside him, very gingerly dig with their hands to uncover the mine Jack is on. Jack sweats. Irina identifies the mine type, and says they need to pry off the panel and remove the blasting cap. We zoom in on Sydney's hand as she tries to pry off the panel with her nails, and considering that in the past thirty-six hours or so, she has flown on a cargo plane, driven through the Indian countryside in a convertible Jeep, and been shot at twice, she certainly has a perfect manicure. Sydney successfully pries off the cap. Jack frantically tells her she needs to cut the detonator cord that leads to the blasting cap. Sydney pulls out a pocket knife, but Irina stops her: "Her knife's not coated. If she cuts the wires with metal, she'll complete the circuit and set it off. I can do it." Sydney and Jack hold their breath as Irina reaches in and extracts the blasting cap with her fingernails. Danger thus averted, Sydney and Jack practically hyperventilate with relief. Jack sits up, his pants squooshing only slightly around their payload of terror shit. Irina points, saying that the entrance to the sewer tunnel is just over a nearby hill, and that they should hurry. "Follow closely," she adds. Sydney and Jack don't have to be told twice.
CIA. Kendall tells Vaughn to contact the Bristows and tell them to get out immediately. Vaughn says he has no way of making contact with them, and asks Kendall why he needs to. Kendall says the Indians have found out that the Pakistani rebels have acquired nuclear weapons, and they will be launching air strikes within twenty-four hours. Vaughn says they have to stop the Indian army from going forward, but Kendall says the Indians found out that the CIA knew about the nukes and didn't tell the Indians: "They're insisting on going forward." Vaughn stops pedewhining and just plain whines, "Then let me make a personal appeal!" Kendall quietly tells him everyone's already working on this: "State, NSC, DOD..." Vaughn makes a confident start: "Look, you're probably going to say no to this, but I want to go to India. I was stationed there for two years; I have relationships --" "Go," says Kendall simply. Vaughn's like, "Guh?" Kendall -- probably just looking to get pesty, lovesick Vaughn out of his hair (as it were) for a few days -- says he'll have a military aircraft waiting for Vaughn, but that it'll be "totally back-channel." Vaughn can tell when he's not wanted: "You're just gonna...are you trying to get rid of me?" Kendall smirks, chucks him on the shoulder, and walks off. Vaughn runs away before Kendall comes back and asks Vaughn to bring him some opium or curry or something.
Super-Secret Facility Of Doom. In an apparently empty room, a screen comes off a wall, followed by Irina; she crawls out of the vent, trailed by Sydney and Jack. Irina sits at a handy desk and starts sketching out a crude map of the facility for Jack and Sydney, pointing out the two locations where the nukes could be stored: a sealed research lab, or a vault in the subbasement. "The lab's the better bet because its security system's more sophisticated," she explains. "So check the vault first?" Jack moronically suggests. Irina's like, "Not if we only get one shot. What did I just fucking tell you? The lab has thermal sensors to detect intruders through their body heat. If we raise the room to body temperature -- 98.6º -- the sensors won't be able to distinguish between us and the thermostat level of the lab." I'm no scientician, but it seems to me that that kind of workaround might be anticipated by an engineer designing a thermal sensor, and that checks might be built into such sensors to prevent would-be saboteurs from escaping detection that way.
But whatever. Irina directs Sydney to the appropriate heating panel, and Jack to a computer room where he'll record a new track over Cuvee's (head of the PRF, remember? Sark mentioned him) so that Jack's voice will open the lab door. Then Jack will record a cover of "Love Shack" (time permitting). Irina gets up, saying she'll be in Cuvee's private office. Jack informs her, "You and I are not separating -- not in here." Irina turns back, explaining as if to a stupid child, "Unless I deactivate the facility's surveillance system from Cuvee's office, we won't get anywhere near the nukes." "No," Jack snaps, like a stupid child. Irina delicately knits her brow as Jack continues, "You've done good work getting us here; I'm not blind to that. But I'm also far from trusting you. If you want those nukes for yourself, this is a perfect set-up. You were an officer in this facility; you've got friends here willing to work for you." At this last bit, Irina -- who had been looking down in frustration -- flicks her head up and scoffs, "Friends? Know what this place was when I was here, Jack? A prison, where the KGB interrogated suspected traitors. And no, I wasn't an officer here. I was a prisoner." Her eyes filling, she chokes, "Why do you think I learned the sewage tunnels, or memorized the mine locations? So I could escape, you idiot! We're out of time. We either split up and meet at the lab in five minutes, or we're going back. It's your choice." Sydney breathlessly backs Irina: "Dad, she's right. We don't have any more time." Jack clenches his jaw and nods briefly. Irina returns to a locker behind her, putting on uniform clothes and tossing some to Jack and Sydney. "I'll be at the lab in five minutes." "You'd better be," Jack rather ineffectually tells her. Or what? Or she'll be back in the evil saddle and you'll be in big trouble for letting her get away? Yeah. She'd better be, tiger.
Super-Secret Facility Of Doom. DOOM! A soldier of some kind is strutting toward the camera, rocking his "Blue Steel" look, when suddenly Jack (in soldier drag) pops out of nowhere, overpowers him, and smashes him, palm-first, onto a hand scanner thingy. "[Bone Snaps]," asserts the caption. The "[Door Beeps]," and Jack walks in.
Sydney, also dressed as a soldier (complete with no-nonsense olive-drab head scarf) messes with the heating panel. As she turns to go, she runs smack into another soldier, who pulls a gun on her. There's the usual foreign-language exchange ("I'm new." "Where's your ID?" "Up your mother's ass," and so forth) until the soldier relents and smarms, "About time they sent us something decent to look at." Sydney smiles and submissively gazes at the floor in order to delay the guy's obvious question -- namely, "Hey, this Pakistani terrorist organization hires white girls now?" -- and takes off.
Computer room. Jack pulls up Cuvee's voice track and screams, "Tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin roof! Rusted." Or, he says, "My name is Gerard Cuvee" in the foreign language of the week. Farsi? I don't know.
ALLIANCE HEADQUARTERS. Sloane has assembled the band of evil brothers to bring them up to speed about Emily's non-death and the blackmail that has ensued. When Sloane gets to the part about SD-6's lab determining that she was alive when her finger was removed, SpongeBrit SquareFace comments that blood coagulation tests are not 100 percent accurate. Sloane counters that, even so, they are reliable. Sloane then hands over photos that "security section" has obtained, apparently of Emily on a plane to Santiago. Baron Von Sunkencheeks asks Sloane whether he knows the identity of the man with Emily; Sloane does not, and adds the part about the $100 million in bearer bonds. SquareFace asks who knew of Sloane's orders to kill Emily; Sloane says that no one "outside this room" did. Sunkencheeks asks whether Sloane is accusing one of the Alliance members of blackmailing him. Sloane says he is not, but adds that someone has infiltrated their secure communications. SquareFace says that whoever it is will get nothing. Sloane rejects that avenue, saying they have to eliminate this leak before the blackmailer finds out any more damaging information about the Alliance: "I propose that we put a tracking device on the bonds. That we make this exchange. That we follow the blackmailer, and we assassinate him." SquareFace -- who seems to be roiling with repressed rage -- says, "You understand, Arvin, after all this, if you get your wife back, she will still have to be eliminated." Sunkencheeks sucks his cheeks in Sloane-targeted disapproval. Sloane says he understands.
Doom ahoy! Jack and Sydney meet in a hall. She tells him the thermal sensors have been neutralized. Jack asks where Irina is; Sydney hasn't seen her: "We got this far. She must have gotten to Cuvee's office and disabled the surveillance system. She'll be here." Jack gets to the voice-recognition thingy and lies to it that he's Gerard Cuvee. As the door creaks open, Jack informs Sydney, "We're not waiting."
Jack and Sydney enter the lab, sliding their scarves off their heads. Sydney looks around furtively (though the room appears to be empty), and Jack immediately finds one of the suitcase nukes in the very first spot they check. Sydney pulls the nuke out and sets it on the floor as Jack offers the moronic instruction, "Use the control codes to begin deactivation." Sydney does not squeal back, "I know what I'd doing, Dad, GOD! Brake left, gas right, I'm not STUPID!" Or perhaps that's what I wanted to say to my dad at a similar, though not exactly identical, moment in my own life, and enough about me. (My dad had a terrible time teaching me how to drive, and I didn't enjoy it much either. However, the time we disabled a suitcase nuke we found at a super-secret facility of doom, it was smooth as silk. Good times. I'll show you the tape some time.) Sydney uses the control codes to begin deactivation. She opens the case, unscrews something, and finds it empty: "The plutonium core is gone," Jack informs us. Suddenly, the music track freaks out with a blare of trumpets. A door opens, and a group of people led by Gerard Cuvee -- and hey, how did he get past the voice box thinger speaking in his own voice, when we just saw that Jack recorded over Cuvee's voice with his own? -- enters; several soldiers point their guns at Sydney and Jack, who stand at attention and look unhappy. Jack and Cuvee glare at each other. And then Irina makes her way through the crowd of soldiers to take her place beside Cuvee, beaming at him evilly and stroking his shoulder proprietarily. Jack and Sydney stare at her, looking all betrayed.
Wing Chun: Evil! Damn, aren't you glad she's not our mom?
Toque: I don't know. It might be cool for a while.
Wing Chun: If she were on your side and you could be evil together. Sure, I can see that.
Toque: Would you go evil?
Wing Chun: If Irina were our mom? Maybe. She's pretty cool.
Toque: Smart. Keeps being smarter than the CIA.
Wing Chun: Exactly. But then you'd be worrying all the time about her turning on you and selling you out.
Toque: You might worry that about a regular mom, anyway.
Wing Chun: Yeah, but refusing to pay your tab at the hair salon isn't the same as selling you out to a pack of Pakistani terrorists. On the other hand, maybe she would teach you the secret of being over fifty and having a wicked ass.
Toque: If being evil gets you an ass like that, I'll start selling out Canada tomorrow.
Wing Chun: Pfft. No one wants to buy Canada's secrets. "Oh no, someone else will corner the market on fatty bacon!"
Toque: Yeah, you're right. I hate Canada.
In his office, Cuvee pours glasses of clear booze for himself and Irina as they have a subtitled conversation in...Tagalog? Just kidding -- I think it's Russian. Whatever. Doesn't matter. Not English and not French; that's all I know for sure. Cuvee says he heard she'd been killed. She says she was captured by the CIA and held for three months, but that she got out by convincing them that she'd help them steal the warheads. "You little witch," Cuvee says playfully. She grins. They start making out.
Sloane, toting a briefcase, stalks through a park somewhere -- probably back in Los Angeles. As we hear a tinny voice start to speak, Sloane puts his hand to his ear: "Hi, Mr. Sloane? It's me, Marshall. Sorry. You probably already know that. We planned this." Aw, Marshall. Supernerd. "Anyway, the tracer on the bonds is working perfectly," Marshall tells him, watching a dot moving across a map on Marshall's monitor back at SD-6. Sloane curtly tells Marshall he's turning off his comm. Sloane then sits on a bench and peers around. His little yellow sunglasses are very cool. His cell phone rings, and when he answers it, a dude tells Sloane to leave the suitcase on bench and keep walking. As Sloane walks off, the voice on the phone tells him to proceed toward the corner while the blackmailers "verify the authenticity of the bonds."
Back at SD-6, Marshall follows the dot on his map and brags about how great he is.
Park. The voice tells Sloane to go to the row of vending machines and take the City View fifth from the top.
SD-6. Marshall: "I told you. Ain't nobody getting by Magic Marshall's invisible liquid tracer." The speech is accompanied by cocky hand gestures and flourishes.
Park. Sloane reaches for a newspaper.
SD-6. Marshall does a smug little dance in his geek lair.
Park. Sloane pulls out a paper and takes out an envelope, from which he removes a couple of Polaroids. In the photos, Emily looks as though she's been shot in the head. I say "looks as though" since, only last week, we just happened to see Sydney sporting a fake gunshot wound to the head for strategic reasons. I don't read spoilers and I don't know what happens with the whole Emily thing. I'm just pointing out the parallel. Anyway, Sloane recoils slightly from the photos.
Marshall ceases to boogie, returns his attention to his monitor, and notices the little window that's popped up, inviting him to visit the world's greatest online casino. He closes that, which spawns six more windows, one of which starts flashing, "SIGNAL LOST." Marshall freaks out.
Did We Mention The Doom? We Did? Cool. Sydney stands up in a cell, watching the action unfolding across the way in Jack's cell. Jack is being visited by his lawyer and a State Department official, who are advising him of his rights. Duh, not really. Jack is sitting on his bed. Cuvee stands opposite, with Irina standing between them, facing Sydney and smirking periodically in Cuvee's direction. She's wearing a green tank top that really shows off her pipes. Damn, that woman is cut. We cut from Sydney's POV into Jack's cell, where Cuvee is casually telling Jack, "Not to brag, but I'm kind of responsible for matchmaking you and Irina. Did she tell you?" Jack gazes sadly over at Irina, who smirks. Cuvee says, "I was her supervisor at the KGB. I was the one who gave her the assignment to go to the U.S. and marry a CIA officer. Now, you weren't the only prospect, of course, but you had the most potential. I actually thought it would dawn on you that a woman like this would never go for someone like you." Irina -- who's been smirking back and forth at Jack and Cuvee -- reacts to this by turning toward with a faux-shocked gasp and nearly silent giggle of scandalized delight, all, "Oh, honey, you're terrible!" Leaning down into Jack's face, Cuvee adds, "Luckily for me, your ego was too big for that." Jack jumps up and (it all moves very fast) seems to punch Cuvee in the face with both cuffed hands. Cuvee staggers backward, and Irina smashes Jack in the head -- either with her fist or the butt of her gun; it's hard to see. Across the hall, Sydney flinches and bites her lip, her eyes filling with tears. In Jack's cell, Cuvee regains his footing and, pulling out a gun, aims it at Jack, screaming, "You're a dead man!" From Sydney's POV, we see Irina step between the two men, holding up her hands in front of Cuvee and reminding him, "I want what we came for." Her eyes flashing anger, she slowly raises her gun at Jack, saying, "Sark's made a deal with us. What kind of double-cross is he planning?" From Sydney's perspective, we see Irina walking toward Jack and hissing, "Maybe you didn't hear me." Jack stares up at her uncomprehendingly. Sydney cowers and cries. Irina bares her teeth, shoves the barrel of her gun against Jack's neck, and murmurs, "We know Sark has a new partner. Who is it?" But we know that she knows that it's SD-6, so I guess this is Jack's (and our) signal that this whole scene is for Cuvee's benefit.
Before Jack can come up with a fitting answer, the cell door opens and a soldier walks in, saying that Sark is on the telephone. Irina backs away from Jack and takes a few deep breaths. Cuvee steps to Irina, cradles her chin in his hand, and -- keeping one eye on Jack the whole time -- plants a bunch of proprietary pecks on her cheek. Irina overacts getting all hot at his kisses. "Get the information," Cuvee tells her. "Meet me in my office." Making for the door, Cuvee raises his gun at Jack again and makes a quiet gunshot noise, complete with fake recoil. As Cuvee and the messenger soldier walk out, Irina walks back up to Jack and grabs his hands roughly with her left hand, wrenching his toward his shoulder. Sydney gasps and cries, again, some more. Keeping the gun trained on Jack, Irina leans in and hisses, "Dammit. I was caught. I had to do this, or we'd all be killed." Answering the question Sydney had asked Vaughn earlier, Irina explains, "They're not detonating the nukes. Here's what you have to do." We cut back to Sydney's POV as Irina gives Jack his instructions, so we have no idea what she's saying. Sydney looks terrified.
On the phone from SD-6, Sark asks Cuvee whether they're on target. Cuvee says they ran into a few problems. Starting to freak out, Sark asks what kind of problems. Cuvee casually says they have the situation under control: "We'll proceed as planned." Sark tells Cuvee, "Then I'll expect your report on the Rambaldi artifact within the hour." Cuvee hangs up and looks concerned.
Back in Jack's cell, Irina has apparently finished outlining the plan, and tells Jack, "Trust me on this." She lets go his hands. He glares, his jaw set. Wrapping it up, she says, "If you don't make it out, I'm sorry this happened." We cut back to Sydney just in time to see Mommy pistol-whip Daddy. I guess Christmas came early for the Bristow family. Sydney flinches again, and watches as Irina goes to the cell doorway and calls for someone to open it. She leaves. In his cell, Jack sits up and groans. He then opens his right hand, showing us the pair of keys Irina gave him.
Some airfield somewhere. The doctor who once diagnosed Joey Tribbiani's kidney stones now works at the airfield. He tells Vaughn that it's good to see him again, but that Vaughn came a long way for nothing. Vaughn tells him the CIA has people at the PRF base stealing the nukes. General Kidney Stones tells Vaughn that if those people fail, India will be the Pakistanis' first target. "They won't fail," Vaughn insists. General Kidney Stones reminds Vaughn that he can't guarantee that. Okay, dude, check it -- Vaughn thinks that the following argument will convince General Kidney Stones to call off the air strike: "General, if you launch those strikes now, you will be killing some of our best targets!" General Kidney Stones does not reply, "Oh, really? Are there a billion of your assets at the PRF base right now? No? Then I think the welfare of the population of India kind of outweighs your assets. Also? India didn't ask your assets to do jack, so shut up." Instead, General Kidney Stones says, "Your government knew that the rebels acquired the suitcase nukes. Still, they said nothing. They put the whole country at risk." My way was punchier, but that'll do. Vaughn doesn't really have a good answer to that, since General Kidney Stones is totally right, so he just whines, "At least delay a few hours until we get our people out!" General Kidney Stones is like, "Let me think about it. No. Get out." Vaughn pouts. General Kidney Stones adds, "You look more like your father every time I see you. You know that?" Vaughn Sr. was a whiner, too? General Kidney Stones starts to wander off before Vaughn tries yet another tack: "My father wrote about you. In his journal. He wrote that he trusted you and respected you, and that is why I came such a long way." I guess General Kidney Stones is worried that Vaughn Sr. is going to come haunt his ass or something, because he relents, offering, "I cannot call off the strike." Vaughn hangs his head all, "Aw, man!" General Kidney Stones adds, "But I will give you a head start." Instead of thanking him, Vaughn spits, "Meaning what?" General Kidney Stones says he'll get Vaughn a helicopter and a pilot: "But if you're going to try to rescue your friends, you're doing so at your own risk." Vaughn stares. Damn. As a viewer, I love Vaughn, and want him and Sydney to get together and have a million babies, but from the recapper's seat, he really comes across as a whiny-ass bitch. So it's a good thing I'm not this show's regular recapper.
You Can't Spell "Perfidy" Without PRF! Sydney dozes in her cell, but wakes at a sound at her door. "Dad!" she squeals delightedly. He unlocks her door and shushes her; his mouth is all bloody. Sydney asks how he got free, and he tells her that Irina is helping them, and explains about the keys. Sydney's all, "No way!" and Jack's all, "Way, and seriously, shut up." As he unlocks Sydney, Jack says Irina told him that the PRF is using the nuclear cores to activate a Rambaldi artifact: "Among the things Rambaldi experimented with was self-sustaining cell regeneration. This artifact they're opening today is reported to be Rambaldi's proof of eternal life...we have no time to make any meaningful assessment. All I know is that your mother claims to have provided us with the opportunity to contact the CIA for extraction, and we should act on it." They run away.
In his free helicopter, Vaughn kvetches at the pilot to go faster. The pilot does not call Vaughn even one bad word.
Agent Notinkoff's phone rings. Sydney is still at the PRF base, but she's found her way into a sunny office and is talking on a satellite phone. She asks for Vaughn; Notinkoff says he isn't available, but hands her over to Kendall. Sydney clenches her jaw. Jack noodles at the computer, flicking from one security camera to the until he finds the lab where Cuvee is waiting for the activation of the nukes; Irina is there with him. Kendall comes on the line and asks whether Sydney has "the package." Whoops, I think he has her confused with the OTHER Agent Bristow! Ba-dump-bump! (Sorry.) Sydney says they're in the process, and will need extraction within the hour. Kendall tells her to abort the mission, explaining about the air strikes. "Air strikes?" Sydney gasps. Jack snaps to attention. "We're not finished! You have to get them to hold off!" Kendall tells her that the planes are already in the sky, and that they have to leave now. Sydney's all, "Not without my mother." Jack grabs the phone from her as Kendall orders them to get out immediately and head for the extraction point. Jack snaps, "This is Jack. You'll either hear from us again, or you won't." I guess that's pretty much always true, of everyone, under any circumstances, isn't it? But still, the way Jack said it was all snappy and dangerous. Jack tells Sydney, "Our assignment from the CIA is to bring her back. That's our job." He takes off. Sydney looks after him in trepidation.
Lab Of Doom. (Doom.) Cuvee inspects things. Science-y things happen. There's a big ball of something. Jack and Sydney jog in, but everyone's so fixated on the experiment that no one really notices them. Sydney and Jack keep their eyes on Irina, waiting for a chance to make their move. Things whir and shake. Graphs on a computer do things. Finally, the big ball of something falls open, revealing a small nosegay of yellow flowers. Cuvee peers in at them in wonderment. Maybe the eventual business plan of the PRF is to shift their revolutionary activities into a floral-delivery company -- PRFTD, perhaps. Anyway, everyone other than Cuvee is distracted by the sound of planes overhead, loud enough to cause the flowers to tremble in what I assume is the subbasement. Cut to the sky. Fighter planes fire missiles. Cuvee reaches for the flowers just as the missiles strike the building. Chaos ensues. Irina watches as Cuvee reaches into the ball and pulls out the flowers. Apparently horrified at such a paltry bouquet, she delivers a nice roundhouse kick square in the gut. Cuvee belatedly pulls his gun and cocks it (hee hee) at her, but before he can fire, Jack knocks Cuvee the hell down and punches him out. Jack and Irina exchange the most intense "fuck me" look I have seen outside of Brad Pitt and George Clooney in Ocean's Eleven. But before they can consummate their forbidden lust, they remember that their damn wiener kid is there. Behind Jack, Sydney picks up the flower Cuvee dropped. "A flower? That's what this is all about?" she breathes. Yeah. A flower. So? Terrorists can't appreciate natural beauty? Jack reminds Sydney and Irina that they have to get the cores and get out.
Planes continue to fly, continuing to launch missiles. Amid the airborne hoo-ha, Vaughn's helicopter swoops in. The Bristows tear ass out of the base and toward the black helicopter. They stare. "It's Vaughn!" screams Sydney, because she loves him so much, she can even recognize his calf as it hangs out of a damn helicopter. Jack tells Vaughn they have the cores, so he should get the Indians to abort the air strikes. Vaughn does so. In the helicopter, both Sydney and Vaughn and Jack and Irina wish they were traveling in separate helicopters so that they could get it awwwwwwn. Bun chicka WAH wah!
Home sweet jail. Back in Los Angeles, U.S. Marshals escort Irina back to her cell. As she enters, she sees that her metal trough bed has been outfitted with a mattress barely thicker than my duvet, and a small, tidy pile of bedding. Her bounty is not accompanied by a box of Turtles and the latest issue of InStyle, however. Maybe time. Irina smiles, because it really is the little things that count. Alone again, with Sydney on the opposite side of the glass, she strolls up to the partition, smiling sadly. Sydney stares back. "You must have a lot of questions," Irina understates. "No shit, lady," Sydney does not reply. Irina says, "One thing that should not wait any longer is why I shot you in Taipei." Sydney's like, "What, that? Oh, I've already forgotten all about that." Irina explains, "The rebel leader -- Gerard Cuvee -- when you were in Taipei, he was in the room, watching, to see if I would betray him or you." Her eyes fill as she concludes, "Shooting you in the shoulder, giving you time to escape -- it was the only way I could think to maintain his trust, and keep him from killing both of us." They both smile at each other, just a little. Irina observes that they're both tired, and says Sydney should get some rest. "You too," Sydney says kindly. "Mom," she adds after a moment. Irina grins in surprise and gratitude. Sydney pauses for a second, as if to make sure she really said it, and leaves. Irina cries a little, smiling.
Sydney, arms crossed, strolls over to Vaughn's desk and says hi. "Hi!" he says back, grinning goofily, because of all the love. She asks about the flower, like she really cares about the stupid flower. He says that preliminary analysis indicates that it's anywhere from 400 to 600 years old. Sydney's all, "Guh?" "Like I said, preliminary," adds Vaughn. Sydney nods and stares at him goofily, with love. "Oh," Vaughn says, and hands her what looks like a couple of tickets. "What's this?" Sydney asks. She looks at them, then looks at Vaughn. They smile at each other goofily like a couple of goofs in love.
Musical montage over a sort of funkish song with a falsetto male vocal. Sydney mini-golfs with Will and stupid boring Francie. Dammit! Seriously, at this point in the episode when I watched it the first time, I was just about to say, "Rock! There was no Francie!" and then as soon as I had even thought it, there she fucking was. I know she doesn't have any lines, but shut up, Francie. Sydney has her hair in pigtails, and her centre part is the whitest, most ruler-straight part I have seen in my entire life. Like, I'm waiting for the episode where we see the special palm-sized robot Marshall has built for Sydney to stick on her head in the morning so it can part her hair for her, so mathematically perfect is her part. As we watch Sydney and her friends mini-golfing, we pull back to see that Vaughn is standing by the fence, watching them mini-golf like a creepy stalker. Vaughn, call that Dr. Phil producer back so that you can get on the show and get told to get a life.