First and foremost, kudos and huzzahs to both Wing Chun and Kim for shelling out wickedly awesome recaps whilst I was away in merry old London. You guys rock. No, really. You rock. No. REALLY.
Okay, so, previously on Alias: Syd and Marshall managed to steal something called "Echelon" from a computer in London, and Marshall managed to get his ass nabbed by The Sadistic Dentist Of Asian Persuasion. Will took a psych test that may or may not allow him entry into the CIA research department. Sydney met Vaughn and Alice McPlotPoint at some random bar, and Syd made googly eyes at Vaughn RIGHT IN FRONT OF HER. You know, because they're super-secret spies and shit, and that's how super-secret spies keep their lurve lust hidden from their significant others. And Faye Dunaway showed up and terrified us all with her marbleized upper lip.
Seriously. Faye's scary.
We open up on some stock footage of a satellite orbiting the planet as Sydney voice-overs, "Some people think there's a conspiracy. That the government eavesdrops on everyone. It's no conspiracy. Right now, satellites and ground stations are listening in. Faxes, email communication, phone calls, are all routed to high-speed voice and optical recognition computers. They can analyze words spoken and written in any common language on Earth. The system's called Echelon."
Okay. I had to transcribe that because, seriously? I totally had no fucking clue what Echelon was. And I totally didn't care. I mean, it's been so bloody long since the last episode aired that, quite frankly, I'd forgotten the entire plot. But, you know, that's what recaps and videotapes are for so, like, it was simple enough to go back and fill myself in with Kim's kickin' recap. Know what? STILL DIDN'T KNOW WHAT ECHELON WAS. STILL DIDN'T CARE. Know why? BECAUSE THE WRITERS DIDN'T KNOW WHAT ECHELON WAS EITHER. NOR DID THEY CARE.
And they still don't. Which is why, I'm assuming, they brought on The Expository Moment Of What The Hell Is Echelon Anyway. Thank GOD.
What was that? Oh, yeah. Still don't know what Echelon is. Still don't care.
Okay, so, Syd spills about Echelon to Will while they're hanging out in the Electric Ovary's kitchen, enjoying some strawberry shakes. Will's all, yeah, I already know about that. Sorry to ruin your little super-secret spy revelation. Oh, and way to breach all sorts of security and shit by just yammering on and on about some top-secret communication tool. Oh, yeah, and isn't Echelon illegal? "So, what, it's just like a computer that listens to and reads everything?" he finishes, slurping his shake.
"Yeah, looking for key words; the system scans two million conversations an hour," responds Syd, loading her shake with wheat germ and sea kelp and a bunch of other shit that takes all the fun right out of the shake. "Yeah, while shamelessly violating the Constitution," Will says, wondering why he didn't make a chocolate shake instead because chocolate's an aphrodisiac and he pretty much figures that in order to get Syd horizontal, he's gonna need all the outside help he can get. Syd's all, yeah, well, the NSA argues that Echelon's one of its most important weapons against terrorists. "And they don't abuse the system," she assures him, hoping Will doesn't try that whole "You want some chocolate?" routine. "Somehow, that's unreassuring [sic]," says Will, obviously thinking that poor grammar is the way to a woman's heart. "Unreassuring"? The hell? It's called Merriam-Webster, writers. LOOK IT UP. Syd goes on to say something about Gerard Cuvee and how he figured out how to hack into Echelon. "He was able to pick up secure military communications," she says as we pass into a flashback involving a building blowing up. "Because of that, he was able to locate and destroy a U.S. military lab in Dresden." Oops. Guess Gerard Cuvee having access to Echelon isn't really a GOOD thing.
"In London, we shut down Cuvee's access to Echelon and, thank God, kept it away from SD-6," she finishes. Will's all, oh, so, if someone gets Echelon, like, they become all Big Brother and shit, right? Oh, and again, nice total exposition of every last CIA and SD-6 secret there, Syd. I can't get you to make out with me or show me your boobs, but you're TOTALLY FINE with opening your big fucking mouth about every last thing having to do with the government.
Like, I get how the writers and TPTB are trying to bring us all up to speed in a matter of milliseconds, but, uh, do they have to do it in such an asstastic way? Will gets his face turned into Taipei top ramen and now he's suddenly Syd's mother confessor? I mean, ABOUT EVERYTHING? IN HER KITCHEN? Try to show a LITTLE decorum here, people. Make her give a report or something. Yeah, blah blah blah the apartment has a bug killer in it. Who fucking CARES? Syd's a SPY, and she can't keep her mouth shut about DICK. Seriously. I keep better secrets than her. Even the one about Ron Livingston and how he likes to have his big toe dipped in warmed honey and licked clean. I've never told a soul about that one.
What? Viggo! Stop reading over my shoulder! And -- wait. What's that smell? VIGGO! I told you not to come back from your fucking universal transversal or whatever the hell you call it until you reacquainted yourself with a BAR OF IRISH SPRING! You smell like raw sewage that's been left to rot beneath the left armpit of David Crosby, okay?! What? Oh, you wanna hear about Ron Livingston, do you? Yeah, well, shake hands with Mr. Bubble, dude. Because Ron has a healthy relationship with both hot water AND L'Occitane products, okay? Those two things alone are enough reason for me to toss your skuzzy arse in a vat of Pine Sol. Keep it clean, dude or we're THROUGH.
Syd blathers something about how her best bud Marshall was pulled out of SD-6 and taken into protective custody. "The CIA's gonna give him a life. A real life. I can't tell you what a relief it is to know he's safe," she says, smiling. Yes, if by "safe" you mean "suffering at the hands of an Asian actor who most likely detests taking on the mantle of a torturous madman of Asian ethnicity, but who also really digs the hefty paycheck." Because Marshall's about as far from "safe" as Anna Nicole Smith is from "svelte."
Dark Dungeon Of Dental Dementia. Marshall's freaking the hell out in the makeshift torture chair while one of SDAP's henchmen cranks Marshall's mouth open with a relatively icky-looking dental device. SDAP sneers something about how Marshall took something that didn't belong to him and how SDAP's employer would like it back. Then he goops something out of a squeeze bottle down Marshall's throat. Ew. I don't care what it is, that shit ain't right. I can't swallow Pepto-Bismol without going through about twenty minutes of heebie-jeebies, so this scene is incredibly ooky for me.
As Marshall sputters and hacks, SDAP instructs his men to remove the dental device and tape up Marshall's mouth. Then SDAP blabbles, "Epoxy...is a binary compound. You have just ingested the resin. Alone, it's not toxic. But a combination with a hardener... " Okay. What. Is. With. The. Explanatory. Mouth. Torture. Like, it wasn't enough last week when Sloane put the glass ball in Sark's mouth and we were all, the hell? Only to have Sloane EXPLAIN to us just what the glass ball was and how it worked, and hey, did you know I graduated magna cum laude from the University of Talkative Torturers? Dr. No and I ran neck and neck, dude. Seriously. Goldfinger couldn't even touch us. What a pisher.
I mean it. Really. Doesn't anyone just beat the hell out of anyone anymore? A good solid electrode to the nuts isn't an appropriate torture technique? Are steel splinters beneath the fingernails just too archaic nowadays? Whatever happened to the old standby, razor-sharp hot skewers to the eyeballs? Huh? And where is it written that the torturer has to tell a fucking STORY while he's visiting agony upon his quarry? Guess what? If you're hammering someone's index finger with a MEAT TENDERIZER, you don't have to explain ANYTHING TO ANYONE. Like, enough with the elaborate torture schemes that require explanation, okay? Just cut off someone's ear and be done with it. One more sadistic torturer with diarrhea of the mouth and I'm paying a visit to the writing staff myself and showing them just how effective a Cholula enema can REALLY be. And I guarantee I won't have to EXPLAIN to them what it IS.
So, basically, if SDAP slops some other crap down Marshall's throat, the shit he already threw down there is gonna mix with the other shit and transform into a completely hard thing which will puncture all of Marshall's vital organs and block his windpipe, causing him to suffocate. See? Wouldn't a Cholula enema be much simpler?
Marshall's freaking, poor boy, even though we alllll know that there's no way in hell he's going to die. Let's face it -- this is Kevin Weisman's biggest role to date; they kill him off now and he's going to have to start shilling the Perfect Pasta Pot on Food TV. SDAP leans in as Marshall freaks and demands to know where the Echelon operating system is. And the freaking doth continue.
Welcome to The Pathetic Plot Device Diner; my name is Foolio and I'll be your Plot Propeller for today. Can I interest you in our specials? Syd and Foolio are sitting at a table. Syd's drinking coffee, and it looks like Foolio's doing the books, or writing a note to J.J. Abrams that includes the phrase, "Dude? Give Francie something to do or I'm putting those pictures of you and the production assistant at the Christmas party up on the internet NOW." Suddenly, for no reason, Foolio looks up at Sydney and goes, "What?" YOU'RE USELESS, THAT'S WHAT.
Note to Merrin Dungey: You are not useless. The character Francie is useless.
Note to J.J. Abrams: Ditto on what Foolio said about the pictures, dude. Don't think I won't do it. I'm a former actor. I know production assistants all over L.A. It's like organized crime, dude. We'll get you somehow.
Note to writers: Shut up.
Anyway, Syd blurts, "I have a crush on a guy at work." Okay, A) "crush" so ain't the word for it and B) KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT, SYD. God. I swear I could be a better spy than her. I swear it.
Shut up, Viggo. Did you wash behind your ears? That's what I thought. And dude? I don't think you're supposed to have MUSHROOMS growing between your toes. Oh yeah? Two words: Ron Livingston. March it, buster.
Foolio's all, really? Who is he? Oh, and don't think I'm buying that you actually have time at work to have a crush on anyone. And you better start making your work lies a little tighter, sister. I may be an annoying plot pusher, but I'm not stupid. ["Objection. Assumes facts not in evidence." -- Sars] Syd's all, someone in my department or something. Oh, and his name's NOT Michael. Foolio's all, what's his name? "Michael," blushes Syd. Whoops. AND SHE'S A SPY? She cries at the drop of a hat, she bungles ninety percent of her missions, she has daddy issues, and she SPILLS THE NAME OF HER HOT LUST OBJECT IN THE MIDDLE OF HER BEST FRIEND'S RESTAURANT?
What-fucking-EVER.
Syd goes on all, he's...I don't know how to describe him. He's smart, he's hot, he's funny, he's hot, he's sweet, he's HOT, he's French, he's HOT, he's charming, he's HOT, he's cute and, well, what else? Oh, HE'S HOT. Foolio's all, cute? You mean "hot" cute, right? Not cute like Justin Timberlake cute. You know, because, even though Justin's an adult, it's still kind of wrong to dig his ass. Syd's all, ohhhh no, "hot" cute. Definitely HOT cute.
By the way, both Garner and Dungey are awesome in this scene -- Garner with her blushing and glancing and discomfort at announcing the reality of her feelings for Vaughn, and Dungey with her mega-watt smiles and general sense of "you go, girl" at every turn. So, Foolio's all, why haven't I met this dude? And does he have a brother? Or preferably a father? I'm into sugar daddies. Syd's all, well, uh, he kinda sorta maybe has a girlfriend. Foolio's all, of course he does. Don't they all? AND THEY NEVER CALL ME WHEN THEY SAY THEY WILL. Syd's all, calm down, Sister Suffragette. It really doesn't matter whether or not he's sticking it to some chippie with a Supercuts hairstyle; the bank has a strict "no nookie with officemates" policy.
"You know," says Foolio, "you could quit." Oh, Jesus. Again with the quitting thing. How many times has Foolio told Syd to quit her fucking job? A dozen? It's such a useless thing to make Foolio say, you know? It's Syd's JOB. And even though she doesn't know this yet -- although, given how blabbermouthed Syd's been during this episode already, she'll probably know it by the end of the goddamn show -- Syd helps save the world just a little bit every damn day, SO CAN IT ALREADY. And writers? I'm talking to you. Now, if they'd made Foolio say, "You know, you could just slam him up against the copier after hours and Xerox his ass while you give him head," I think that would be FAR more interesting. Having her trudge down the "why don't you just quit" path is boring, stilted, and so '87. Let it go already.
Syd agrees with me because she's all, Francie? Blow me. Foolio's all, look, I don't know what kind of hold this job has over you, but, like, you never bring me any cheap keychains from the airports you've been through and, like, YOU'VE BEEN THROUGH BILLIONS. Syd's all, it doesn't have a hold on me, okay? And if you tell me to quit my job one more time, I'm going to put Drano in all the salt shakers. Foolio's all, blah blah blah the bank treats you like shit, flim fling flummox I haven't heard you gush about a guy in forever, ding dong ditch 'em no one in the free world works as hard as you. Except, of course, for James Brown, but he doesn't look as cute in a miniskirt.
Syd's all, yeah yeah yeah, sell it to someone who's already purchased the Brooklyn Bridge, okay? Foolio's all, maybe you and Vaughn -- I mean, "Michael" -- I mean, "Vaughn"! -- I mean, "Michael"! -- are destined for each other. Maybe he should quit. Syd's all, wow. Is your last name "Mind"? Because your middle name sure as FUCK is "One-Track." Finally, Syd's had enough and gets the hell out of there. But before she leaves, Syd treats us to what is possibly the most adorable smile ever exhibited on the small screen.
Ops Center For Expository Title Cards That Explain That This Is, Indeed, The Ops Center, You Know, Just In Case YOU FORGOT SINCE THE LAST TIME THERE WAS A NEW EPISODE. Thanks for that, by the way. Because, suddenly, I thought we'd accidentally been transported to a governmental scene from the soon-to-be released The Matrix Reloaded, what with all the green-tinted glass everywhere. Mmmm...Hugo Weaving...mmm...
Oh, for God's sake, Viggo. I don't CARE if Hugo didn't shower that much when you worked together on Lord of the Rings. You were in New Zealand, dude. That's allowed! And I guarantee you, Hugo has at least PURCHASED soap in the past year, okay? Stop trying to justify your stank and go WASH IT OFF.
Anyway, Syd enters the Ops Center and immediately can tell something's wrong by the number of wrinkles present on Vaughn's forehead. "What's wrong?" she asks. Vaughn's all, uh, yeah, Marshall? Sort of abducted. Syd's all, WHAT? Kendall's all, yeah, so, like, our plan was to intercept Marshall on his way home from LAX -- Syd cuts him off all, uh DUH. I know what the bloody plan was, okay? JUST TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED.
Spy Daddy steps forward (oooh, Spy Daddy! I missed him!) and says, "The extraction team was about to move in when they saw this." He hits a button, and they all turn to watch Marshall's abduction on a monitor. Vaughn splutters, "We ran the plates on one of the SUVs. It was rented by Charles Williamson, we put his photo ID through a facial recognition database. It matched a known associate of Gerard Cuvee." Wow. Cuvee's men are about as brilliant as Syd with her big-ass mouth. Rented? These guys RENTED the SUVs? They couldn't, oh, I don't know, STEAL THEM? That would make so much more sense. Not to mention how it would totally confuse and distract the CIA. I mean, not that I'm suggesting that the CIA isn't already confused and distracted. Syd's all, uh, okay, does someone want to fill me in on what's being DONE about this? Spy Daddy's all, blah blah blah one team radiating out from the abduction point and blip blab bleah another team in London retracing his steps. "Our steps," snaps Syd. "The mission in London was my op, Marshall was my responsibility." Vaughn's all, yeah, right -- lest we forget that this is NOT all about YOU, before he was captured, Marshall emailed Cuvee's copy of the Echelon access program to SD-6. Syd's all, okay, WHUH? We took away Cuvee's Echelon access and GAVE IT TO THE BITCHES AT SD-6? That was SO not in the plan. Jack's all, bring it down a notch, Sister Mary Sunshine. When SD-6 downloaded the thing, there seemed to be a problemo.
Uncle Arvin's Office Of Over-the-Top Technical Treatises. As Jack just purses at him, Sloane literally goes on for about a half an hour about how Marshall's email was broken up into packets of data and blah blah blah'd to SD-6 via ISPs all around the world. Let's hope they didn't use AOL, because that shit is spam-o-licious. Sloane gibbers something about how there was a malfunction when Marshall sent the shit, and a bunch of data packets weren't transmitted. "Without them," he grimaces, "we cannot access Echelon."
Okay. What is Sergeant Somewhat Sane wearing? That tie looks like it's about to release itself from its knot, creep across the desk, and start slapping Jack around the face like an angry cobra with a personal vendetta. Oh, and a note on the Sloanemclature, okay? I ain't doing it anymore. Firstly, it just takes too goddamn long to come up with witty and bizarre names, and secondly, I think we're all now fully aware that Sloane's no longer crazy. Really. I think the second he went to the Alliance with the news that Auntie Em was potentially alive or that someone was trying to make him think that she was, he pretty much knocked that whole "Captain Crackers" image right out the window. And, like, I'm lazy. And it's Saturday. And this shit ain't done yet. So deal.
Back to Sparky and Jughead. Jack's all, okay, so it's screwed up. Can't we fill in the missing pieces? Sloane's all, yeah, because that wouldn't take SIX MONTHS or anything. Jack's all, where'd the error occur, dude? Sloane informs him that it got fouled up at a government-operated facility in Ho Chi Minh City. "I'm sending in Sydney and Dixon to retrieve them," he finishes. Jack's all, okay, so that handles Echelon. Who's handling the Marshall situation? Sloane just stares at Jack, twists his mouth a bit, and says, "We've changed his access codes. There is nothing that Marshall can tell Cuvee that could possibly hurt us." Jack's all, the hell? You mean...wait, what DO you mean? You're gonna leave him there to be tortured and killed? You know he's gonna be tortured and killed, right? Sloane just smiles coldly and says, "Oh yes, I'm sure he will be. I've already contacted SD-4. There'll be a replacement in op tech by morning." Man, Sloane's one cold son of a bitch. Jack purses his lips again as I throw pistachios at the screen and shout, "YOU FUCKER!"
As we watch Sloane and Jack glower at each other, we hear Jack voice-over, "That was the extent of his concern." We cut back to Ops Center as Jack continues, saying, "It was as if someone had overcooked his STEAK." Heh. I know this is no laughing matter, but that kind of made me giggle. Mostly because Victor Garber spits out the word "steak" so hard that I'm surprised Jennifer Garner's left eye wasn't blinded but also because, after rewinding the tape and viewing that scene again, it was TOTALLY like someone had overcooked Sloane's steak and he was less than pleased. In fact, I half expected him to take a sip of wine between his lips, swirl it around, and then snap his fingers and order a new bottle because the '92 was less than satisfactory.
After drenching her eye with Visine and blotting it with Vaughn's monogrammed hankie, Syd says that Cuvee's going to try to get Marshall to reverse-engineer the software and get it back online. Jack's all, yeah, we know that, but you need two things to get on Echelon, okay? The software, AND an access point. He blithers on about how software is like a map and leads you to the doorway of the system, and the access point is the door, most likely a satellite. Yeah. Someone wake me WHEN THE ASS-KICKING STARTS. Yawn. Jack's all, if we can find the door Cuvee went through and lock it, he won't get on, not even with Marshall's help. Kommandant Kendall's all, well, the only problem with that, Mister Smarty-Pants, is that our diagnostics team has run a comprehensive system analysis and they can't find the breach.
Vaughn steps up and snivels that Irina thinks Cuvee may have used a Russian network to make contact, and that the Russian version of Echelon is called "Swarm." Yeah. I don't know what's going on. Don't care, either. When Michael Vartan's onscreen, he could be speaking Swahili without captions and I would still be slavering over his chiseled image. Plot? Yeah. It's over there somewhere. Show Vartan again!
Syd's all, she told you that? Jack's all, I talked to her. Syd looks at him like, okay, what's ? Candlelit dinners and silk peignoirs? Since when does Mommy talk to ANYONE but me? Jack's all, okay, one more outburst like that and I'm gonna put you over my knee and show you who's the head of this spy family, okay? Syd just glares at him as he goes on to say that Irina thinks she can find the back door, but she has...ahem...a few terms.
Mama Hari's Den Of Delights. We flashback to Jack and Jill going up the hill in The Cell Of No Cellulite. Spy Mommy informs Jack that, if he wants to know where Cuvee breached the system, she can find out for him. "It'll take time," she says, "but I could do it if I were given access to Echelon, no restrictions." Jack's all, HA! Nice one. That is SO not gonna happen. Remember Kendall? Yeah, the guy who HATES your aerobicized ass? He's gonna take one listen to your "terms" and tell you to go fuck yourself. Irina's not impressed. "I would simply ask you to inform Mr. Kendall that the technicians he'll assign to do the job will discover it is like quicksand."
Yeah. "Quicksand." Doesn't make any sense, does it? If I hadn't already watched the whole episode, I wouldn't know what in the hell she's talking about. But since I HAVE watched the whole episode already...well...actually, I STILL don't know what in the hell she's talking about. Or maybe, you know, I sort of DO know what in the hell she's talking about because...
Oh, just fucking forget it.
["Think back to the last time Windows corrupted a file for no reason and fucked your whole hard drive to hell. Yeah. THAT'S what she's talking about." -- Sars]
Back at the Ops Center, Kendall's all, your father hit the nail on the head. "I declined the offer," he snits. "Second to only Arvin Sloane, Irina Derevko is the last person I want having access to the U.S. government's secure network." Syd's all, but she'd be watched! And she'd be surrounded! And she'd look really pretty, because the government-issue hairdressers and makeup artists would make sure to give her that special treatment they reserve for out-of-cell moments! Kendall's all, save it, sweetheart. Your mama ain't getting anywhere near computers or telecommunications equipment any time soon so, like, get over it. Syd's all, but we're wasting time! And she's really pretty! And we're pretty together! And Lena Olin's already demanded a minimum of thirty seconds outside her cell as a bargaining chip in her contract renewal! Kendall just smirks and says, "Agent Bristow, we hire qualified technicians around here. What do you say we give them a shot?" Hee. I love it when Terry O'Quinn brings the smirk to the table. He's so good at bureaucratic snobbery.
Virtuous Vaughn, in an effort to placate Kommandant Kendall and appease his would-be girlfriend at the same time, steps up and informs Syd that her countermission is simple. "In Vietnam, you'll download the data packets SD-6 is looking for and switch it with this." He hands her a disc. "It's corrupted data. We'll have what SD-6 needs, and they'll never be able to access Echelon. And Syd," he says rather earnestly, "we'll find Marshall." Syd just nods at him as if to say, "Oh, who the hell gives a damn about Marshall? Are you gonna KISS me or WHAT?"
And, like, okay. First of all, that countermission sure as shit doesn't sound simple. And B) of course they're going to find Marshall. Duh. Even if Marshall manages to get his flabby ass shot and killed, you can be pretty damn sure that he'll show up again at some point in the future. Because on Alias? Death is just the beginning.
Dark Dungeon Of Dental Dementia. SDAP leans over Marshall as he sweats and squirms. "I will ask you one more time," he wheezes in a voice reminiscent of that creepy hanger-brandishing German guy from Raiders of the Lost Ark, "where is the Echelon software you took from us?" Marshall splutters, "I swear on my mother's grave, I don't know." He starts crying. But because this is Marshall, and it's nearly impossible to keep his mouth shut even when he's just ingested a tube full of goo, he splutters some more. "And though, technically Mom's still alive," he splews, "she has picked out her gravesite, so --" SDAP's all, okay, I gotta shut this idiot up. "Refusal to cooperate has a price," he hisses, reaching for the tube of hardener and bringing it close to Marshall's face as the minions pry open his mouth with the dental device again. Marshall's all, nonononononono as SDAP informs him that his mommy will be if he doesn't cooperate. Marshall wisely decides to join the ranks of the Dentally Demented and, after the minions remove the device, starts yammering that he sent the software to SD-6 and that, even though there ain't nothin' he can do about that, he conveniently has a photographic memory and can recreate the entire Echelon access program from scratch. "Just don't hurt my mother, please," he cries. "You leave my mother alone!" SDAP just smirks at him and announces that they're off to a very good start.
Jumpin' Jack Flash's Office Of Unwanted Occupations. Jack enters and sees Face Doneaway (tm SpyDaddyRulez) click-clacking away at his laptop. He's all, the hell? Get your plastic-wrapped face away from my VAIO, okay? Face Doneaway's all, dude? Shut up. And I'm downgrading your network privileges, just for kicks. "Pending the outcome of my investigation, your security clearance has been revoked." "Get out of my office," Jack barely grits out. Face Doneaway gets up and creaks her old bag of bones and recycled parts over to Jack. "When Emily was killed, you claim you were in Taipei," she mumbles, her upper lip resembling a moldy slice of Gouda. "It is a fact, not a claim!" snaps Jacky. Face Doneaway's all, okay, uh, when the blackmailers stole a bunch of Alliance cash in exchange for pictures of Auntie Em's murder, you were...? "On assignment in Istanbul," Jacky counters. "Doing back-channel, unsupervised work that you conveniently arranged for yourself!" she snits. Or, like, she would snit, if she weren't afraid that her FACE WAS GOING TO CRACK LIKE A GLASS MADE OF SUGAR WATER. Jack's all, okay, Tamara Taffy-Face, I am a SENIOR officer with discretion to arrange and carry out assignments any fucking way I feel like it. "I will NOT be SUBJECT to a WITCH HUNT!" he crisps at her. Face Doneaway's all, oh, gee. Like I care. You have no protections, no civil rights, no civil liberties or reasonable doubt here, my friend. Or have you forgotten that this AIN'T the U.S. government? "See that I'm not disturbed again," she instructs the guard outside the office. Jack glares at her one last time and then storms off.
Ops Center For Anxious Agents And Their Permanently Pursing Pouts. Jack enters and stalks over to Vaughn and some other agents who are discussing whether or not they'd travel to France in order to meet a hot single guy who'd just inherited $50 mil. Jack starts barking orders. "Get everyone you can from op tech now. Notify assets in Istanbul, Taipei, and Azerbaijan we'll need immediate assistance in forging hard evidence of my being in each of those locations on specific days and times." Vaughn watches as the lackeys scramble and then turns to Jack all, uh, dude? Switch to decaf, okay? You're scaring me. Jack prepares Pout #289 and says, "We have a situation. [Face Doneaway], head of Alliance counterintelligence, she's investigating me in connection with the murder of Emily Sloane." Vaughn's all, so? Your aliases and the places you've been with the agency are all covered, bud. Take a chill pill. Jack's all, okay, passport stamps, plane tickets, all that shit will withstand a cursory inquiry. "This is anything but cursory. I did not kill Emily Sloane but I do have secrets and the last thing I can afford, the last thing Sydney can afford, is someone discovering that my loyalty does not lie with SD-6." Oh, and if you tell me to take a chill pill one more time, I'll remove Mr. Happy with a rusty nail and you can sure as FUCK kiss intimate relations with ANYONE, let alone my precious little girl, GOODBYE. Don't think I won't do it.
Back from the commercial break, we're still at Ops Center. A bunch of agents surround Jack as one of them keeps handing him stuff so he can put his fingerprints on them, including the wheel of the car he rented in Taipei. Okay. I'd like to just move right on past this section, seeing as it's the DUMBEST FUCKING THING I'VE EVER SEEN. Like, no one else rented the car after Jack? I mean, Jack WAS in Taipei, wasn't he? He did actually RENT a car, didn't he? Well, where's the car? And even if the car is found by SD-6, won't there be, like, NINE HUNDRED OTHER PRINTS ON IT? Or does SD-6 only use a rental car company that doesn't actually CLEAN its cars after each rental? Actually, come to think of it, not only is this scene the dumbest fucking thing ever, but the whole Face Doneaway scenario is equally the dumbest fucking thing ever. The whole thing. From top to Botox'd bottom. Doesn't make any sense. Or should I say, what little sense it once made is now lost in a bunch of loose storylines and carp-like aging actresses whom we can't picture without hearing, "NO. MORE. WIRE. HANGERS. EVER!"
Moving on.
Suffice it to say, the op tech team does its job and does it well, because Jack's puckered ass is safe in all the locations that SD-6 might possibly check out. Jack charges off, leaving Vaughn to look after him with an extra forehead furrow or two. Hot Agent Craig shows up and, instead of challenging Vaughn to a skins against skins basketball match, hands over Will's psych profile. Vaughn instructs Hot Agent Craig to run protocol and bring Will in. Whoo! Will's almost an agent!
Jack comes charging through again, demanding of some tech guy, "What about surveillance footage?" Tech Guy blathers and blithers on about rotoscoping and frame rates and green screens. Nutshell? Jack's placed on a hotel videotape via some geeky gadget-y tools. Jack's all, okay, I want to go over everything and make sure we're solid. Vaughn's all, dude? We're covered. I think you're being a little bit -- Jack cuts him off and tells him that thinking simply isn't good enough. "I want to know," he bites. Vaughn wisely tucks his balls away and replies, "You're right." "I want to see the plane tickets," Jack huffs, walking off. Vaughn follows his future father-in-law like a little blond girly-girl.
Ho Ho Ho Chi Minh City. Syd enters some building and introduces herself to the guard as "Nina Bales." She looks fabulous in this scene, all black eye make-up and messy bun and black suit. Veddy nice. A couple of seconds later, Dixon's on Syd's com, saying something about accessing the system and being "in" during mid-presentation. Yeah, I don't know what he's talking about either.
In a darkened auditorium, Syd's making a presentation to a bunch of Vietnamese military dudes. Then, as the projector in front of her gets switched on, we flash back to The Conference Room Of Endless Expositions where Dixon, neatly stepping into Inspector Dingus's shoes, explains just how the little projector works. And, if you thought Jack and the whole "Permanent Prints of Perpetuity" thing was implausible, wait'll you get a load of this one.
Basically, Syd just has to press a button, and the projector emits a high-intensity pulse strobe light that flashes at the same frequency as human brain waves. "Effectively rendering the targets unconscious," he says. Whuh? Yeah, that's what I said too. Syd's all, so -- what? This means I can grab the shit I'm supposed to and be back before these morons wake up? Dix is all, pretty much. For three minutes. Any longer than that, and they'll wake up and your ass will be grass. Oh, and you have to wear these special glasses that we borrowed from Mary on Joe Millionaire. They'll keep you from passing out too, and her attention-grabbing antics got her bony butt tossed off the show after the first episode so she certainly won't need them anymore.
Back in the auditorium, Syd's giving her spiel about satellites. Dix informs her that it's time to put the kids to sleep. Syd puts on Mary's sunglasses and touches a button on the screen of her laptop or something. The machine starts flashing as Dix tells Syd that he's gained access. Precisely to WHAT he's gained access, we don't really know at this point. But we're too stunned by the Goldmember-esque stylings of the demonic strobe projector to bother trying to find out.
The dudes in the audience all immediately pass out. Like, their heads actually dip over to one side. God, this is stupid. Syd makes her way through them, locates the guy whose badge will get her into any room in the ministry, rips it off, and makes her way out of the room. Dix tells her that the data packets she's looking for are in the hard drive, which is located in the server room. It's a couple levels down. "You've got three minutes," he finishes. Thanks for the update, pal. Why don't YOU try running through a dark theater wearing sunglasses that a grandma with cataracts wouldn't be caught dead in?
Syd runs down some stairs and through a hall, passing a couple of Vietnamese guys who, because this is Alias and not Full Metal Jacket, neither notice nor comment upon the fact that a tall, gorgeous Caucasian woman is traipsing down their hallways. Syd gets to the security door, accesses the ID pad, and runs in to the hard drive area. Dix informs Syd that she now has two minutes to find the right hard drive. Once again, thanks Trooper Time Check. I do have a WATCH, you know. Syd pulls and prods at a couple of metal thingies in a big machine. Because I really wish they'd just done away with this little tension-mounter of a scene, I'm just going to cut to the chase and tell you that the hard drive or whatever that Syd needs is in Room 147 on Level One and not, sadly, in this room. Syd's all, coolio! I'll get there! Dix is all, no time, sweetheart. The repair room is just off the lobby. I'll do it. Meet me later, dude. Syd, knowing that if Dix gets his hands on the drive, he'll just hand it over to SD-6, freaks out. She's all, DUDE! No! Dude? I'll make it! Too bad Dix is already on his way.
In the lobby, Dix walks up and attempts to sound like a geek by putting on a nasally voice that vaguely resembles that of Poindexter in Revenge of the Nerds. Meanwhile, Syd's trying to beat his ass to the repair room. The guard at the desk tries checking Dix's information; Dix continues whining in that bad nerd voice. Finally, a guard leads Dixon down the hall. As soon as they're out of view, Dix goes all Sydney on the guard's ass and beats the crap out of him, shoving him into the repair room. They engage in far too little ass-kicking for my taste, and the guard bites the dust.
Dixon's looking at the hard drives on the table when Syd enters. Dix jumps about a foot in the air, realizes it's her and not another guard, and then they start working together, trying to find the drive. Unfortunately, Dixon gets it first. See? I told you her countermission wasn't fucking simple! Stupid Vaughn.
Dix runs out and yells at Syd to get a move on. Syd just stands there, her perfect make-up job flawed only by the morose expression on her face. She leaves, following Dixon to the extraction point, with no thought whatsoever of the dozen or so military dudes snoring away in the auditorium. Hello? Loose ends anyone?
Back at SD-6, like, twelve seconds later, Sloane's all proud and shit that Dix and Syd nabbed the hard drive. Dixon's all, yeah, uh, thanks and everything, but what in the hell is up with Marshall? Sloane's all, oh, well, I'm glad you asked. We haven't heard anything, my dear, but our efforts to get him back continue, "as do our prayers." Oh, Jesus. We're back to icky and smarmy Sloane. Bleah. He's so oily in this scene that he's practically Alan Thicke. Syd just looks as if she's thinking how difficult it would be to kidnap Sloane, cut his body up into little pieces, and feed them to Face Doneaway, who looks like she could use a good meal. OR TEN.
Subbasement Of Dreams And Desires. "So now SD-6 has everything it needs to access Echelon," Syd practically moans. Vaughn's all, oh, sweetie, I'm sorry. Any idea how long it'll be before it's operational? Syd's all, midnight tomorrow at the latest. And you don't get to "sweetie" me, you sleazy prick, no matter how hot you look in that shirt without a tie. How's Alice, by the way? I miss her so. Vaughn's all, okay, I thought I was clear about the whole Alice thing -- Syd's all, MOVING ON. Vaughn's all, okay, fine. If that's how you want it -- about Marshall. "One of our teams traced Cuvee's unit that abducted Marshall to a safe house outside London."
As Vaughn continues in a voice-over, we see a flashback to some CIA guys in full regalia walking into the safe house. "By the time they got there," Vaughn says, "it was abandoned. It was wired with four pounds of C-4." One of the guards trips a wire, and the whole place blows the hell up. Back with the young lovers, wherever they are, Vaughn carves a few more troughs into the front of his skull and says that, in light of the tragedy, the director's ordered a halt on the search. "So for the moment," he says, "Marshall's on his own."
Different Dark Dungeon Of Dental Dementia. Marshall's back. Only, instead of being strapped to a chair with goop dripping down into his mouth, he's sitting at a computer, looking none the worse for wear. Oh, except for the rivers of sweat running down his face. While I sympathize, like, ew. Get the guy a towel or something. One of the minions is pointing a gun at the back of Marshall's head, which Marshall's finding less than comforting. "You think maybe he could point that somewhere else?" he spluts. SDAP just glares at him from his Wheelchair Of Doom. "All right," Marshall continues splutting. "It's not...it's...um...feelings! Nothing more than feelings! Trying to forget my feelings of loooooooove!"
Pathetic Plot Device Diner. Will's draining bottles of ketchup as Foolio sits across from him, wondering why the makeup department decided that today was the day to try out the retro-'60s sparkly blue eyeshadow and the sluttish red lipstick on HER instead of on that extra in the disco scene that comes later in the episode. Make-up Department? Ringling Brothers called. Their circus clowns want their make-up back.
Foolio and Will are discussing the idea of impending war in the Middle East and what part Kim Jong Il will play in the whole fiasco when the writers show up, knock back a couple of shots of lighter fluid, set fire to their heads, and start screaming at Foolio and Will to STOP WITH THE INTELLIGENT, THOUGHT-PROVOKING DIALOGUE AND GET BACK TO BUSINESS, GODDAMMIT!!
Knowing that her current palette of makeup is more flammable than a pair of Frederick's of Hollywood crotchless panties, Foolio wisely decides to inform Will that Syd's sleeping off yet another business trip. Will's all, uh, yeah, right, uh, what's with the flaming head guys? Foolio's all, I don't know, dude, but maybe they'll put themselves out if I keep bitching about Sydney's fucking job, so just go with me on this one. Will's all, yeah, okay, whatever. It's just...do you think ketchup can put out flames? Foolio's all, dude? What'd I say? The whole job thing, okay? Like, it never ends! Will, finally getting with the program, is all, oooooh right! Job thing. Yeah. That used to bug me too. But, like, it's important to her, okay? Do you think this is working? Have they put their heads out yet? Foolio's all, shhhhhh! Ever since Danny died, all she does is work. But, like, there's this new guy.
Suddenly, Will's paying complete attention. "She...told you about a guy?" Foolio's all, oh, so NOW you're interested. Before, with the flaming head guys, not so much, but now that Syd might be gettin' some, you're perking up. Toad. "Yeah," she says. "Somebody from work. Michael something. You know him?" Will covers well and answers in the negative. Foolio's all, no, of course you don't know him. Because those bank bastards won't let them date 'cuz it's against the rules. Fuckers. Will's all, oh, okay. So they're not dating? Foolio's all, no, actually, because he's dating someone else. Syd's just pining away, eating all the Ben & Jerry's in the house. Poor thing. Then Foolio hands Will a card from the mailman and says something about a package of his at the post office. Will just looks at the card and then gives her the high sign that the writers have, indeed, dunked their flaming heads in buckets of H2O.
Post Office Of Total Testosterone Tête-à-têtes. Will enters some postal storage area and finds Vaughn. They shake hands as Vaughn informs Will that his psych report came back. "You did well," he says. "I'm not a sociopath?" Will laughs. "Well, I didn't say that," says Vaughn, laughing himself. Will's all, okay, Chuckles. Do I have a job? Vaughn tells him that he does. Will's all, a PAYING job? Vaughn's all, no, dipshit. We want you to work for us for free. Because there's no cover like POVERTY. Vaughn tells Will that he'll be working as an analyst; he'll be asked to review classified documents and file reports. His cover will be that of a journalist. Will's all, a cover? Really? So, what? Does that mean I'm an agent? Vaughn just laughs and laughs and laughs and laughs. "Oh ho ho! That's funny! I mean, that's really funny! Can you shoot a gun? Do you know how to perform a wire tap? Can you fall in love with other agents even though you're not supposed to? An agent! HA HA HA!" Will's all, yeah, that's really fucking funny, Captain Clueless. How's Alice, by the way? I miss her so. Vaughn stops slapping his knee long enough to tell Will that he's not an agent because he's not field-trained. "You're an analyst. You're desk-trained. You sit at a desk." Okay, "desk-trained" doesn't even make sense. What, he has to go through seven weeks of intensive education on how to cross his leg without banging his shin into the underside of the desk? But Will doesn't care. Just as long as he has a steady paycheck and health insurance. Amen, brother. I'd sell my soul for a job shilling feminine hygiene products just as long as it came with dental benefits.
Vaughn fills Will in on the details of his employment. Mainly, he's supposed to act like he works for some monthly travel magazine that's just a CIA-operated front. He'll go to the office when paged, and he'll have to analyze whatever materials the CIA leaves for him. Then he fills out some paperwork, gives it to some guy named Bill, and he's done. "Welcome to the CIA," says Vaughn, shaking Will's hand. "Thank you," says Will, smiling. Thinking they're finished, Vaughn looks down at the floor as if to dismiss Will. Unfortunately, Will's not quite done yet. "Listen," he says. "Obviously, you're a good guy and I can't tell you how much I appreciate this job and what I'm going to say is...inappropriate. Sydney cares about you, and what you guys have, or don't have, means a great deal to her. I want to make sure you respect that."
Okay, yeah, it was totally offsides and out of line and you know what? I don't care. Because Bradley Cooper is so hot in this scene and Michael Vartan is so hot in this scene and they're both so goddamn hot and filled with integrity and I really can't control myself. Julio! Bring Mommy the fire hose! Someone's libido's on fire and it AIN'T Sergeant Stanky over here!
Ooh, that's better. Muchas gracias, Julio. Now bring Mommy a towel. And a barrel of Blue Nun.
Seriously, though. When Will says "inappropriate," Michael Vartan manages to eye-act that he's slightly nervous about just what "inappropriate" might mean, because, you know, it could mean that Will's going to totally make a pass at him. But then there's this pause and Will says the thing about Sydney caring for him and once again, Michael Vartan eye-acts a subtle "Huh? Oh. OH! Ohhh..." moment that is so priceless it's worth watching again and again and again.
Oh, and Bradley Cooper's just hot.
Meanwhile, at some random geeky guy's desk at SD-6, Uncle Arvin's lurking over the geek's shoulder while he works at his laptop. According to the screen, the Echelon system is fifty-eight percent recompiled. Whatever the hell that means.
Then we're treated to the same swirling stock footage of the satellite orbiting the planet, only this time, it's going in the opposite direction or something. Like I care. It looks like Legos on a blue screen, dudes.
Ops Center For Oops, There Goes The Echelon! Kendall's addressing the troops. "I just got off the phone with the director again and he asked me again if I knew we were in the intelligence business." Hee. Goddamn, he's funny. The camera passes by the grim faces of Jack, Vaughn, and Syd as Kendall continues. "SD-6 is, by our best estimates, less than twelve hours away from accessing Echelon which will give them all the intelligence capabilities of the CIA. Our efforts to prevent Gerard Cuvee from re-accessing Echelon ended in tragedy. Four agents killed. As far as we know, your SD-6 tech ops officer Marshall Flinkman could already have Cuvee up and running again."
We quick-cut to The Different Dark Dungeon Of Dental Dementia as Marshall click-clacks away at his laptop.
Zoom! And we're back at Oops Center. Hee. "Oops Center." Hee hee. Sometimes, I just make myself laugh. Kendall says something about Spy Mommy's intel on Swarm and how info sec hasn't been able to locate a backdoor access point. Of course, at this precise moment, all the computer screens in the entire Oops Center just go blank. Everyone scrambles. Kendall, Jack, Sydney, and Vaughn make haste over to Adorable Tech Agent Rick. Kendall's all, uh, Doofus? What the hell just happened? ATAR's all, name's Rick, actually, and I had to shut down the system because that fucking Russian Swarm program detected I was mapping its network and spit out a virus. Syd glances at the screen and sees that the virus is conveniently labeled on the screen: "Quicksand." She's totally sounding pleased with herself when she says, "My mother knew this would happen. That's the word she used: 'quicksand.'" Kendall's all, yeah? Well, then maybe SHE'S the one who set up the virus! Syd's all, oh for GOD'S SAKE, WILL YOU GROW UP! What's the point of having her hot bod here if you're not going to use her? And I do mean "use"! Heh. Heh heh. I'm dirty. Kendall's all, okay, Jack? You've been saying all along that Irina turned herself in as part of a plan, right? Well, if, for once, you were right, then giving her access to Echelon could only help her out in that avenue. Kendall's obviously looking for Jack to get his back. Jack's not ponying up the goods. "In this instance," he gruffs, "I think she would be an asset." Kendall's all, oh, nice! I act as your wingman all those times down in the Manila tramp bars and now you gotta go and be like dat? Where's the love?
Mama Hari's Den Of Delights. Syd tells her mom that they found Quicksand. Irina's all, yeah, and how's this MY problem? I told your daddy the terms. Full access, honey. No less. Syd's all, Dad fought for you on this, okay? Try not to make him think you're as big of a bitch as we all know you are.
Seconds later, Irina's led upstairs, surrounded by several marshals. Most of the CIA agents fall over themselves in order to get out of her way. Because, you know, even shackled and surrounded by a bunch of guys with guns, that Irina could still do some serious damage. She's taken over to Rick's desk. Rick looks like he just peed himself, just a little, and vacates his seat. Irina holds out her hands, obviously waiting for someone to unlock her hands, which one of the marshals does. Although, really, that's totally not necessary. My hands are practically shackled together while I type this, dudes. She's such a prima donna. Spy Mommy takes her seat at the desk and announces that she'll need to send an access code. Kendall's all, okay, but, like, how will we know you're not signaling your operation? Huh? Answer me that! Irina's all, you won't. And Syd? Give your Uncle Kendall a global thermonuclear wedgie while we're waiting for him to give me permission to do this thing. Kendall looks at Jack as if to warn him that if Irina goes apeshit, it's Jack's fault. Jack just nods at Sydney as if to say, go ahead, honey -- rip Uncle Kendall's boxers clear up his crack. Daddy says it's okay. Finally, Kendall wises up and snaps at Irina to go ahead and send the damn code. Irina starts clackety-clacking away.
After the break, we're hanging at SD-6 with Face Doneaway and one of her plush boy toys. She's leaning over him while he looks at a computer, careful not to allow the drool to drip out of her eternally gaping maw. They're watching the footage of Jack walking through the hotel lobby. Boy Toy's all, looks good to me. I mean, sure, it's been doctored but, like, anything looks normal compared to your witch hazel face. Face Doneaway just barks at him to slow it down two hundred percent. He does it, and tells her that it still looks good and that if it's faked, it's the best damn job he's ever seen. Speaking of "jobs," it looks like Face Doneaway could do with another one in order to return her face to an expression other than Permanent Snarl. She asks Boy Toy if this tape is the last of the surveillance feeds. He informs her that it is. Just then, another boy toy approaches and hands Face Doneaway a piece of paper. "I think you should see this," he says, scampering away before the poltergeist in the closet sucks him in. Face Doneaway attempts to make some sort of expression at the piece of paper but, for now, she's just going to have to stick with Permanent Snarl.
Sloane's Office Of Particularly Putrid Plotlines. Uncle Arvin's hanging at his desk, checking in with the Echelon recompiling on his desktop while he chats on the phone. He's telling someone that SD-6 should have full access to Echelon in a matter of hours. Face Doneaway bursts in and shoves the paper at Sloane, informing him that it's a forensic report. Sloane says goodbye to the person on the phone -- who appears to be Alain Christophe, the head of Alliance or something -- as Face Doneaway paces in front of his desk, occasionally touching her face as if she's afraid it's going to slide off. Which, you know, is probably pretty likely at this point. Before Sloane can even glance at the report, Face Doneaway jumps right in and announces that brain matter was found in the barrel of one of Jack's service pistols. "According to the munitions log," she tenses, "he checked out a Glock 19 compact for one day, reported a single accidental discharge and no casualties." Sloane's all, uh, I thought you were here to look into the events surrounding Auntie Em's death. Face Doneaway leans over the desk, and her face DOESN'T GAP OR FALL OR MOVE. Seriously. She looks more like Mrs. Ida Lowry in this scene than in any other. And if you don't know who "Mrs. Ida Lowry" is, go out and rent the special edition DVD of Brazil NOW.
So, like, she leans over and says, "The day Bristow checked out this weapon, killed someone with it, and covered it up, was the day your wife was murdered." Sloane's more than surprised at this announcement, and asks if there are enough cells to do a DNA profile. Face is all, yup. Already on it, chico. Sloane's all, well, then, if it matches with Emily, I want you should notify me immediately. AND BRING ME A CAPPUCCINO. Face is all, you betcha, and then she finally, mercifully takes her motionless mug out of the room. Sloane just looks down at his desk as if it's full of holes and that's where the actual plot of Emily's death might have fallen through.
Back atThe Different Dark Dungeon Of Dental Dementia, Marshall's still typing while the minions watch his every move. Dingus starts blathering on about Pez as he writes the program. It's seriously the most bizarre speech I've ever had to transcribe, so here it is.
"Hey, you guys like cherry Pez? You know, cherry Pez? The little candy, comes in the little superhero thing? Yeah, I collect the dispensers. I thought I had the largest collection in the world. I actually wrote the Guinness Book of World Records about it. Well, they said that there was a girl in Australia, nine years old, with a collection larger than me. Which kind of sucked 'cause you know, she's so much younger than me and uh...I'm so much older than her so...I'm kind of hungry, you guys got some snacks? Or you're probably..."
Then there's this pause where the minions sort of stare at him as if to say, uh, what is WRONG with this guy? Then one of them snaps at him in another language and thumps him on the back while the other one cocks his gun in a threatening manner. Marshall's all, okay, I guess that's a "no" on the snacks, huh?
Back at SD-6, Dix walks into some room and barks at Face's Boy Toy that there's something wrong with his computer and he can't get online. "Can you check it out?" Boy Toy's all, okay, first of all, I'm Face's boy toy, not YOURS, and secondly, "someone's launched a denial of server attack on us. We're getting pinged over and over. It's slowing down the network." Dix says, "That's odd. They didn't spoof the origin IP. How can someone be smart enough to hack in here and forget to cover their tracks?"
Whuh? Huh? Who the? What the? Hey, is that a lollipop? Yum. Watermelon! My favorite!
Back with Marshall, the Echelon storyline starts stretching so long and thin that I'm about to snap it with a flick of my finger. Jesus, this is taking forever. SDAP scoots in, yells something in another language, the minions grab Marshall, and Marshall's all, the hell? SDAP's all, uh, dude? You broke through our firewall. Wanna tell me why? Marshall's all, I was just downloading a song off Audiogalaxy, dude. Just to prove that he's not full of shit and that the writers were obviously sniffing their rancid gym shorts for a cheap high, Marshall hits a couple of keys, and a Sammy Hagar song starts playing.
Oh, please.
Marshall returns to his computer, and we return to wondering when this episode will ever end.
Back at SD-6 again. Dix walks through the halls with a piece of paper. He stops at Syd's desk and tells her to join him. Seconds later, they're standing in front of Sloane's desk as he looks at the piece of paper. Turns out Marshall's in Mexico City; he signaled SD-6 through his computer. The incessant pinging must have done the trick. Sloane's all, yeah, uh-huh, okay, whatever. I'll totally send an extraction team in for him. Now, can you leave so I can go back to watching the Echelon countdown on my computer screen? Syd and Dix are all, uh, yeah, whatever on the "extraction team," you psycho. We want to go in ourselves. Sloane, by now twisting his hands in his finest impersonation of Dr. Evil, barely nods at them in agreement. They head out to rescue Marshall, wondering how soon Sloane's going to start laughing maniacally and cloning himself just for fun.
Oops Center. Irina's typing away as Vaughn watches. Kendall walks up. "Are you making any progress here?" "Like Echelon," she says calmly, "Swarm has access points. If I can locate the directory we will know if there are any accessible points." Yawn. Vaughn's all, yeah, so that way we could keep SD-6 AND Cuvee off the system, right? Irina doesn't respond, instead snapping, "I'd like a coffee please." Kendall looks at Vaughn, who looks less than pleased. "Cream or sugar?" he grits out from behind his teeth. Irina turns and just shoots him a look. Vaughn's all, oh, right, sorry. You're an international terrorist. Black, right? Irina's all, yep. Oh, and drop the attitude, Prince Charming. How's Alice, by the way? How I miss her so.
After Vaughn returns from nabbing Irina a little java, he runs into Spy Daddy, who's just received a call that Face Doneaway wants to meet with him. Vaughn's all, does she know anything? Jack's all, gee, I dunno, Wonderboy. Maybe she just wants to do me in the back of her pickup truck. Or, maybe she's Nosferatu and wants to suck my blood, thereby granting her eternal life. What the fuck do YOU think? Oh, and whether or not she knows anything is pretty irrelevant, considering that she has two units from security section prepared to take me in. "I have to be ready for anything," he gruffs as they walk off.
Later, Jack and Face are chilling al fresco at some restaurant. Of course, they're in the shade, because if Face gets anywhere NEAR the sun, she'll go up in flames. Face is all, I'm so impressed with your well-documented record, sweetie pie. You couldn't have been more thorough if you tried. Jack turns on the charm and says, "If I may ask, what is it you're looking for?" Face doesn't answer him and instead says, "There are only two pieces of evidence I haven't been able to corroborate. Help me with them, and we're finished."
Meanwhile, Vaughn and Hot Agent Craig are doing bong hits in a surveillance van nearby. Hot Agent Craig is monitoring the action, and states that Face has the place wired. Vaughn informs Jack via his earpiece that the CIA can make six agents from security section. Vaughn's voice is so loud it sounds like he's sitting at the table yelling into Jack's ear.
Then, as the writers start a gasoline-fueled bonfire in the corner of the patio, various plot devices fall out of the woodwork and stumble toward the light of the flames, mesmerized. The writers gaily grab them and toss them on the logs, laughing merrily as the audience is so distracted that we completely forget to question or guffaw at the complete contrivance that rears its ugly head here momentarily. Face Doneaway says to Jack, "Every time you make a phone call on your STU, the SIM card on your cell phone communicates with the local cell tower. Those communications are recorded on the card's memory chip. It's kind of like a mini travelogue." What? What was that? Pretty flames! Pretty colors! Jack spits that he's familiar with the phone thing.
While we watch the plot devices burn and burn, Vaughn and Craig are freaking the hell out in the surveillance van. "We'll need the cell tower signal codes for Istanbul, Karachi, and Taipei!" Vaughn orders Hot Agent Craig. "Jack, listen to me. What pocket is your phone in? If it's the left jacket pocket, hold up one finger. In the right pocket, hold up two." Jack glances at his menu and signals Vaughn with one finger. Sadly, it's not his MIDDLE finger. A waiter walks up and asks if they're ready to order. Unfortunately, Jack's not quite ready. First, the writers have to toss a couple of live cows on the fire to distract us; then Face Doneaway has to keep her head pointing in completely the opposite direction as Jack's menu so that the waiter can reach into Jack's pocket and pull out his cell phone without anyone noticing. Whew. That was close. I didn't even notice it when time stood still and that waiter grasped the phone with a set of king-sized barbeque tongs.
The waiter finally leaves, and Face Doneaway returns her head to its (and scary) position, and demands Jack's phone. Jack buys some time by mentioning that Face said there were two things. "Who is Steven Haladki?" she minxes. Jack responds, "He was a CIA agent loyal to Irina Derevko. Oh, and he was an incredible weasel." "Whom you murdered," states Face.
Over in the van, Vaughn looks like he's about to vomit. He looks over at Hot Agent Craig as Face continues, "We found brain matter in the gun you fired on the day Emily was murdered. I admit, I thought DNA tests would prove that you killed her but instead they proved you killed Haladki." Back at the table, Jack's all, yeah, whatever -- he was a weasel and he worked for Irina. Believe me. If you'd met him, YOU would have nailed his ass too. Can we move on now?
Vaughn's still sitting there with his thumb up his ass, totally stunned that a warm-hearted and loving individual like Jack would do anything as heinous as killing a sniveling little shit like Haladki. Hot Agent Craig snaps him out of his reverie by announcing that they can't wait for Bristow's phone and that he needs Vaughn's. Vaughn dumbly hands his phone over as Hot Agent Craig says that the card's been reprogrammed and he'll stamp Jack's serial number on the SIM card. Then he hands all the shit to Vaughn and yells at him that he'll have to make the phone switch himself.
At the same time, Face is still working Jack over about Haladki. In the background, we see Vaughn pass off the phone to the waiter. Jack says something about how the death of a CIA agent draws unwanted attention and focus and how, when it happens, the safest recourse is to say nothing. Oh, wait, toss another livestock animal on the fire, dudes! There's another ham-handed phone switch going on over here!
The phone exchange made, Jack asks Face if they're through. Face is all, yeah, sure. Just as soon as you stop pretending to check out the menu and hand over the SIM card. Jack pulls out his phone, removes the card, and hands it over. Face makes one final attempt at a different facial expression; when it fails, she just tells Jack she'll be in touch. Jack gets up and walks away, casually glancing at his hand as he does. There's a blotch of blue ink on his finger. D'oh! Guess the CIA can't afford permanent ink stamps, huh? Hell, I'm surprised they even HAD a stamp ready, willing, and able. It's not like a request for a SIM card is, like, COMMON or anything.
Anyway, Jack knows his goose is cooked and starts beating tracks outta there. At the same time, Face looks down at the SIM card and sees that it's smudged. She runs her finger over it and it smears. She grimaces, her face nearly cracking from the strain of movement, and snaps into her lapel, "Move in on the package!"
About seven Men In Black come careening out of several different buildings. They scramble around looking for Jack, but Spy Daddy's long gone. As they waste precious minutes staring into thin air, the CIA van scoots past with Hot Agent Craig at the wheel. I'm sorry. I think he's bad news. He's hot, but he's a bad guy. I don't know why I think that. Just call it gut instinct. He's a baaaaad boy.
In the back of the van, Vaughn faces Jack. He's allotted about five furrows to anger, three to disgust, and ten to "the hell?" Vaughn's picking up a mighty nice pout himself, by the way. Jack finally meets Vaughn's eyes and, not too surprisingly, Vaughn doesn't hold his gaze for very long. But, then, as Jack continues to stare, and The Violin Strings Of Agency Betrayal And Unwarranted Cold-Blooded Murder shriek across the soundtrack, Vaughn finally looks back at Jack, his expression built solidly around "when Syd and I get married, you are SO not invited to the wedding."
Cue the whicky-whicky disco beats of Mexico City, homies! We're at a kickin' roof party, watching a DJ with dreads doing his thing. The camera pans to the back of the roof as Syd dances through the crowd, wearing a pimp-o-riffic tracksuit that would make J. Lo proud. As the DJ shouts, "Are you ready to par-taaaaaaay?" we realize, sadly, that this isn't just any DJ; it's Dixon, sporting yet another hideous wig. How come Syd gets all the cute hairpieces? Huh? Dix moves his dreads out of the way, looks down at some monitors, and informs Syd that he's ready to receive. Syd snarks, "'Are we ready to party'?" Dix is all, spare me, okay? I speak nine different languages, but techno sure as hell ain't one of them. Syd makes her way to the edge of the roof, removes her backpack, and opens it, producing some spy gadget. She tells Dix to give her cover as she shoots some hook thing across to another roof and pulls it taut.
Quick as a bunny, Syd zips over to the building and clambers onto the roof. She slinks over to some box on the wall and accesses the surveillance feed. She asks Dix if he's getting a signal. It takes him a second, but he gets it and finds Marshall in a storage room on the forty-seventh floor. He gives Syd directions, and she asks about the number of guards. Dix is all, there's two, but don't worry about it; I'll lock the elevators and secure the doors. You just get in there and get our baby boy!
Sloane's Office Of Particularly Putrid Plotlines. Geeky Guy enters and informs Sloane that they'll be uplinked to Echelon in two minutes. Sloane barely notices his existence because he's too busy trying to outbid a twelve-year-old for an autographed pair of Jack Osbourne's boxer briefs. And before you can even say it, ew.
At the same time in the Dental Dungeon, Marshall tells the minions that he's finished. "The program's written," he gasps. And the satellite spins round and round like a record baby right round round round.
Oops Center. Kendall's breathing down Irina's neck. And not in the good way. He's all, uh, we estimated that SD-6 would have Echelon operational by midnight, princess. It's now ten after. Irina just stares at the screen and tells him that the blue spots are Echelon access points, and the red spots are Swarm access points. Oh, Jesus. Who gives a shit? This recap is already a thousand pages long. SINGLE SPACED. Kendall's all, what about the overlapping? Irina's all, what ABOUT the overlapping? I'm all, SHUT UP ABOUT THE OVERLAPPING.
And we're back with Marshall as SDAP clicky-clacks at Marshall's laptop while everyone watches. A window pops up with "Echelon" written at the top. This makes SDAP happy. SDAP smiles. Then a Pong game replaces the Echelon window and starts blipping merrily on the screen. This makes SDAP angry. SDAP growls. Marshall starts giggling like the silly man that he is and says, "You know where you can go, you FREAK? Any idea?!" This makes SDAP violent. SDAP orders his men to kill Marshall. Marshall picks up where Brass Balls Will left off and tells SDAP that he can go straight to hell.
J. Syd pops up just as SDAP is ordering his men to kill Marshall's mother as well. That's it for J. Syd. She bolts in and makes mincemeat of the guards with her stylin' "On the 6" moves and chillin' bootylicious kicks. There's some major bone-cracking and extended slo-mo but, finally, the guards are disposed of. When they're down for the count, Syd looks up and sees SDAP staring at her. Instead of pulling one of the guard's guns off the floor and making SDAP suck down a few bullets, Syd just throws him a roundhouse kick, sending him flinging out of his wheelchair and onto the concrete floor.
Um. The hell? This guy tortured her, tortured Will, tortured Marshall, and all she fucking does is KICK him? What, so he can come back in about seven episodes to torture JACK? This makes no sense whatsoever, dudes. NONE. Of course, in the context of Syd never actually killing anyone, it makes PERFECT sense. And, no, writers, the Sloane/geisha incident doesn't count. Why? Because all Syd did was DELIVER Sloane to his death. She didn't actually pull the trigger. And in this particular instance, Syd would have to actually be responsible for someone's death, no matter how bad and creepy they are or how justified it may be. That being said, I really wish she'd just epoxied the shit outta that freakshow. I would have stood up and cheered.
Syd's all, hi. Whassup? Marshall's all, wow. I love you. Syd's all, yeah, whatever. Let's go. But before they can make a safe (and quick) getaway, Contrivance shows up, flexes her muscles, and makes it so the security system is operational yet again, making it impossible for Syd and Marshall to exit the building without guards shooting at them.
Syd opens a door to exit, only to see a bunch of guards coming toward them. She slams the door shut, and her red lace thong exits its dressing room and joins us on the set. Hi, Red Lace Thong! Welcome to the party! Where have you been hiding all this time? What's that? Oh, you only showed up because ratings have been flailing as of late and ABC could use a little ass crack? Wow. Do you find that kind of demeaning? What's that? Oh, well, I see your point. Red lace thongs cannot live by ass crack alone. That check you received from Mr. Abrams ought to keep you in the style to which you've become accustomed. Say hi to Red Lace Push-Up Bra for us when you get a chance! Hope to see ya later!
While the guards continue shooting at a door that looks like a couple of decent punches from a lame-ass like myself could take it down, Syd shrieks at Dix that they're trapped. Before Dix can try to come to the rescue, however, Marshall runs over, grabs a chair, and flings it out the window. "Come on!" he shouts at Syd. She runs over and lamely reminds him that they're on the forty-seventh floor. Contrivance does a couple of deep lunges, cracks her knuckles, and gives the air a couple of slicing jabs as Marshall blabs, "Remember when we flew to London? I compressed a high glide tactical parachute in the lining of my jacket? Well, as luck would have it, this one's got it too. Along with a hyper-extending tandem sling. Come here." Marshall grabs Syd and locks the tandem sling around her. "Hi," he says, grinning, as the guards make their way into the room. "My name is Marshall J. Flinkman and I'm here to rescue you!" They leap out the window, and the parachute flings out behind them.
Well, now. Isn't that convenient of Marshall to have thought ahead and packed not one but TWO sleekly hidden parachutes? THE FUCK? I might be able to buy that Marshall's such a scaredy-cat that he wouldn't ride on an airplane without a hidden parachute, and I might even be able to buy that airport security would ALLOW such a thing to pass through their security system if the person were in the CIA, but I do NOT buy that SDAP and his minions of death didn't catch on to the hidden parachute while they were kicking the shit out of Marshall. Don't buy that one little bit.
Hey, writers. Pass the hookah. The episode's almost over and I still don't know what the fuck is going on.
Oops Center. Kendall's still on Irina's back about the access points. Without acknowledging his existence, Irina finds the overlapping point and states, "The overlapping access point. As promised." She stands up and Rick moves over, getting back to business. "Close the access point," says Irina as the guards lock up her hands again, "and SD-6 will be shut out." She exits with the marshals as Rick informs Kendall that it's a match. Kendall looks far too pleased with himself for a man who, up until about two seconds ago, was bitching and moaning at the woman RESPONSIBLE for the match.
Sloane's Office Of Particularly Putrid Plotlines. Once again, Sloane's chatting with Alain. He's in the process of informing Alain that Echelon's at the disposal of SD-6 when Geeky Guy enters and says that something's happened. By his tone, we're pretty much under the impression that this "something" isn't exactly good.
Subbasement Of Dreams And Desires. As The Satellite Of Swoops And Sorrows flicks off into the distance, we hear Syd blathering about how Marshall saved everyone's lives and she returned the favor by bringing him back to SD-6. Shut up, Syd. Vaughn's all, honey. Please. Don't be so hard on yourself. We couldn't bring Marshall into the CIA. It didn't make sense, you know? Syd's all, I know, I know. It's just that, like, Marshall doesn't know for whom he's really working. Oh, and what'd I say about the "honey" shit, huh? Where's Alice? Huh? Her dad still dead? How 'bout her mom? You gonna stick around until ALL her loved ones kick the bucket? Dump that bitch already and do me right, okay? I'm losing patience.
SD-6. As The Moany Music Of Sad-Voiced Guitarists warbles across the soundtrack, we see Marshall hanging out with his fellow "agents." They're all congratulatory and slapping his back. Dix hugs him. Syd walks by and pulls her sad clown face as she watches Marshall living the lie. Then Sloane walks up and shakes his hand, pulling Marshall into an embrace that, considering Sloane pretty much gave him up for dead not two days ago, chills Syd, and us, to the bone.
Then we're back, momentarily, at The Subbasement Of Dreams And Desires as Syd says, "It won't always be like this, right?" Vaughn says, "It will end." Now, you could take this interaction one of two ways. You could assume that Syd's talking about the lying and the subterfuge and the living the double-agent life, and Vaughn's trying to reassure her that it's all going to be okay one day. Or, if you're paranoid and constantly trying to find hidden meaning in places where there is none, you'll take it that Syd's actually asking Vaughn if THEY'LL always be like this. Meaning, like, their relationship (or lack thereof). The subtext is, "We'll get together sometime, right? You won't always be with that choppy-haired bitch, will you?" So, in that frame of mind, Vaughn's response, "It will end," obviously means, "We'll get together someday, I swear. IT WILL END WITH ALICE." Yeah. I used to listen to records backwards. What of it?
So, after that loaded exchange, Syd finally delivers her requisite "I should go" and then does.
Casa de Crazy. Sloane enters his house, and Jack instructs him not to turn on the lights. Sloane's all, way to make with the guilty act, dude. You shouldn't have run from Face Doneaway. Jack's all, yeah, whatever -- she looks like a pulled chicken. She just needs someone to blame since she can't find out who really offed your wife. I mean, of course, other than you! BWAH HA HA! Sloane joins in. Hee! TOTALLY, DUDE! Other than me! HEE HEE HEE! Oh. That's funny. Good times. After wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes, Jack steps forward and tells Sloane that he didn't murder Auntie Em. "But if I don't find the person who did, [Face] will frame me for it. I have some leads, I need you to pursue them for me." He passes Sloane a file and asks him if he can trust him to pursue the leads. Sloane just smirks and says, "Of course. This will stay between us."
Jack exits. Sloane waits less than a millisecond before he picks up the phone. It's Face Doneaway on the other line. "Agent [Face]. Arvin Sloane. Jack Bristow just left my house."
Wow. First Marshall. Now Jack. Seriously. What's taboo for this freaknut? This guy won't stop until he kills him-SELF.
on Alias: The ABC monkeys use bad grammar, and Syd and Vaughn finally go on a date! Alice WHO?