Wendy Kroy: Um. Wow. That was. Um.
Regina: I know. That's. Um.
Rona: See. Um. But. Do you. Wow.
Wendy Kroy: Holy motherfucking shit.
Regina: Ditto.
Rona: Pretty much.
We begin this recap at the end, as J.J. would want us to. Because, um, dudes? This was two hours of complete and utter fuckwittedness.
Wendy and his boyfriend, Rona, insisted that I hang with them for the finale, and really, I had no other choice. Sitting in my apartment, with acres of fine vodka before me, shrieking at the television every fifteen minutes? Or sitting at Wendy and Rona's, several dozen smelly candles lit, cigarettes aplenty, cats a-running, daiquiris a-flowing, Indian food arriving, and a gallery of "What the?" and "But they!" and "Did you SEE that fucking shit?"
It was either spend the evening with Wendy and Rona, or spend the evening waiting for commercial breaks so that I could CALL Wendy and Rona just to go, "DUUUUUUUUDES!"
Wendy Kroy: Dude.
Regina: Duuuude.
Wendy Kroy: No, really. Duuuuuuude.
Rona: Okay. ENOUGH with the "dude."
Regina: But, dude.
Wendy Kroy: Yeah. Dude.
Rona: Oh, Jesus, Mary and Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. Shut the fuck up.
Previously on Alias: They gave us the rundown on cloning, apparently. Oh, and Syd and Vaughn doin' the nasty. And that bizarre moment when Francinator purchased a tie for Vaughn in the hopes that he would wear it during sex, rip it off, and allow the recording device within to tape his entire "let's bring work into the boudoir" conversation with his girlfriend.
And whaddya know? They're conversin' and the tie's recordin'.
Seriously. As this episode opens up, Syd and Vaughn are engaging in some rather raunchy sex, while discussing work. Yeah. Because THAT'S appropriate. They're all, kiss kiss, investigation blah blah, nuzzle nuzzle, I think my dad's onto us bling bling, rip rip, is anyone even LISTENING to us discuss work while we're throwing each other around the room and licking the roofs of each other's mouths?
Actually, at least one person is listening. And no, it's not God. It's Francinator. She is one seriously skeevy individual, people. Like, Syd and Vaughn aren't even discussing anything remarkably secret (or interesting, for that matter) and yet Francinator's listening in as if Syd's divulging her formula for cold fusion that involves Oreos, a gallon of soy milk, and a couple of spark plugs.
By the way, why's Vaughn wearing The Tie of Doom and Destruction? If your girlfriend's ROOMMATE gave you a fucking tie, would YOU wear it? No. No, you would not. Because it's incredibly weird and fucked up, and that thing would find the bottom of your closet faster than you can say, "Honey? Your roommate is a fucking FEMBOT."
Right, so Francinator the Fembot is chatting with Sark about how the CIA's mole hunt will eventually lead them to Will, which, of course, will eventually lead them to her and her fembotty ways. There's no point to this scene other than to show how wiggy Francinator is and how HOT David Anders is.
Sark immediately heads off to Irina's office to drop the bomb about Will. I find it terribly amusing that Irina's "office," as it were, is the complete opposite of Sloane's. Like, Sloane's was all sleek and cold and impersonal, and Irina's is all warm and Persian rug-filled and darkly comforting. Set designers and dressers? Gold star for you! After admiring the interior decorating of his mother's inner sanctum, Sark surmises that Sloane will want Will killed before the CIA gets their hands on him. Irina's all, yeah, but Sloane's not around, now, is he? Dude went bonkers and did a few too many bong hits at The Buddhist Temple of B-Actors. Sark's all, but Mom! If the CIA uses regression therapy on Willage, our L.A. asset will be, like, compromised! What, you mean, like, FRANCINATOR? God. Why don't they just SAY her fucking name? I mean, I realize that they're trying to keep her real identity a secret, but this whole "No-Name McAsset" business is getting old. Whatever. I've got, like, nine more hours of recapping...
Irina tells Sark, in no uncertain terms, that Will Tippin's NOT to be touched. Sark's not fond of this declaration, as his puckered little mouth suggests, but Irina could give two shits. She goes on to tell him that she's set up a meeting with some guy who can get them the codes to the NSA facility where the Holocaust Heart is being held. In the meantime, son, could you tell No-Name McAsset to put a good, solid frame on Willage and TELL US HER REAL NAME ALREADY?
Hell-Lay. Oh, holy huckleberry pies a la mode. Will's lying in bed. Naked. Will's naked. Um.
Wendy Kroy: Shhhhh!
Regina: Why can't I talk? He's NAKED, he's not TALKING ABOUT BEING NAKED.
Wendy Kroy: Would you be quiet! We all must take a moment of silence and just...worship him.
Regina: Dude. It's not THAT great.
Rona: Tell her to shut up, Wendy. Tell her to shut up NOW.
Regina: Fine. I'll shut up. Good GOD. His pectoral muscles are HUGE.
Wendy Kroy: See? What'd I say? WHAT. DID. I. SAY.
Regina: Yeah. He's. Um. Yeah.
Rona: Methinks she doth see the light.
Regina: Methinks I doth need to lie down.
Okay, so after I rewound the tape nineteen times and freeze-framed it two hundred times, I was able to move on. Francinator's sitting to Will on the bed, and it's clear that he's been hypnotized, because his poor little blue eyes are wrenched open with some Clockwork Orange-type of clamp. Francinator's droning on about how, from now on, any questions that anyone asks him, he'll remember some answers, forget others, and the more personal the question, the less he'll recall. Then she drops some shit in his eye. Ew. "In fact, the more you try to recall," she says, dropping some more shit in his other eye, "the more elusive they'll become." Damn. If Merrin Dungey's hair and makeup didn't look so ridiculously good right now, I'd really be disgusted by the Francinator. But she's so pretty, it's hard to hate her at the moment. Of course, now that she's SHOOTING LASERS INTO WILL'S PUPILS, I might have to change my mind. Ew! And, EW! And ew some more!
The day, Will and Syd are enjoying a nice jog in the park when Syd tells Will that he passed his upper-level analyst test with flying colors. They blah blah some more about how this means that Will can apply for some special analyst position now, but I'm too busy watching the sweat trickle down the side of Bradley Cooper's neck. And I'm also too busy wondering why I can't get away with the whole "kerchief on the head" look that Syd's sporting right now. Complete with braids. I can't get away with it, people. I just can't. Braids make me look like Pippi Long-fucking-stocking. It's not right.
Suddenly, a couple of big-ass Ford SUVs come screeching up, and a bunch of FBI agents scramble out, guns flailing. Will's under arrest for suspicion of espionage. The agents cuff him and haul him off in one of the SUVs. Syd demands to know who ordered this, and the lead FBI dude is kind enough to inform her that it was dear old Spy Daddy.
Conference Room of Endless Expositions. Later that day, Syd's lost the Pippi look and is in the process of trying to declare Will's innocence. Spy Daddy's not buying it. Mainly because the CIA finally discovered those two satellite breaches where Francinator broke in and used the satellite for her own nefarious reasons. The first time, letting Irina escape in Panama, and the second time, zeroing in on the Tuscany shoot-out so Sloane could see who shot Auntie Em. Yeah. Bouillabaisse my ASS.
Oooh! And Kendall's back! He's back there, behind Spy Daddy. Aw. I missed Kendall. I really did. He's snarktastic! And he's especially snarkorrific in this episode, but we'll get to that later.
Syd again declares Will's innocence. Marshall pipes up that the breaches came from Will's access account. Syd's all, someone else could've used the account! Kendall's all, yeah! Totally! Or, you know, WILL COULD HAVE. Spy Daddy's all, or -- and this is one big, fat, whopping OR -- Will Tippin ain't really Will Tippin at all.
Yeah. And here's where we go through the whole "Will's The Clone" thread of this storyline, even though WE all know that he isn't and it's Francinator and it is SUCH a McPlotDevice that I can't even begin to deal with it. I realize they have to do this for dramatic reasons, but it's really annoying when WE'VE all known that Francinator was the second double since, um, that time when Francie got a hole in her head courtesy of, well, herself.
Just in case we forgot the clone storyline, Jack repeats it for us. Yeah, yeah, yeah. We know. Guess what? Francie's the double. Oh, and guess what? Will's not. Can we go now?
Guess not. Kendall informs the troops that they found some gene therapy drug, Provocilian, in Will's car. And yes, before you even ask, I Googled it. No such thing. In any spelling I tried. No idea if it's real or not. Don't give a damn. Will's not the clone. Fuck this storyline.
Vaughn wants to know if they've given Will an ocular scan. No, they haven't, says Jack, but they soon will. No one explains the ocular scan thingy right now, but since Francinator fucked with Will's eyes, you can bet the results of that test are NOT going to be as good as the ones for Will's senior analyst exam. Then Jack drops a rather interesting tidbit into the conversation. A digital recording was found among Will's possessions. The film was recorded with the equipment found in Syd's apartment. Now, what do YOU think is on the recording?
If you guessed, "Syd and Vaughn doin' the nasty after using Calphalon pots and burning dinner," then you win an all-expenses-paid trip to Guadalupe, Mexico. Bring me back some Cuervo.
After Jack announces this, Syd and Vaughn look VERY uncomfortable. They should. Her dad is now familiar with Vaughn's "Oh!" face. Jack glares at them and hands Syd a remote. He leaves. Kendall arches an eyebrow at them; then he leaves. Marshall looks like he wants to stick around for a second or tenth viewing of the thing, but finally he leaves too. Syd and Vaughn switch on the porn and compare notes as to whose ass looks ten pounds heavier on film.
Meanwhile, Will gets his baby blues scanned. Yawn. Will. Not a clone. Later, Will's holed up in Mama Hari's Den of Delights, losing his shit about being branded a clone, as Syd informs him that the CIA is freaking out because someone breached the system and they're sort of on a witch hunt. And Will, he's a better-looking version of Elizabeth Proctor.
Will's all, what was that eye test all about? Syd's all, dude, it's a retinal scan. Clones develop proteins in their retinas. Oh, do they? Seeing as there are only two clones that we know of, one of whom is dead and the other we haven't yet identified, how, pray tell, would this "retinal protein" research have been carried out? I'm just curious. Oh, fuck it. Will. Not a clone. Even though that retinal scan discovered proteins. Nice work, Francinator.
As Will frantically tries to convince Syd that he's not a clone, Dix and Vaughn watch the action from the observation screens. Syd inexplicably brings up that time when she and Will got hammered and made out. Yeah. Personal questions. Know where this is going? Will remembers the kiss, but not the room in which it took place. The more he tries to remember, the more difficult it is to do, just like Francinator programmed. Will pleads with Syd to believe him. She's trying real hard, just like the good doormat she sometimes is, but it looks like she's having a tough time with this one.
Wendy Kroy: I don't give a damn if Will is a clone. He's still hot.
Regina: But he's not a clone. We know this. We know this because Francinator's the clone.
Wendy Kroy: I know that. I'm just saying that if Will WERE a clone, I'd still fuck him.
Regina: But. See. He's NOT a clone. Francinator's the clone. This is the dumbest fucking storyline EVER.
Wendy Kroy: Honey? No one gives a shit. Will's hot.
Rona: Are you two always like this?
Wendy Kroy: Of course. Why do you think we never invite you?
Rona: Thank you for that, by the way.
Oops Center. Jack orders Dix, Vaughn, and Syd to get the goods on Will. Syd's still on about his innocence. Dix thinks Syd's being a pill, and says that the info Will gave to Sloane led directly to Mrs. Dix's death. Yeah. Let's not forget that this is really ALL about Dix's dead wife. Shut up, Dixon. I mean, I love Carl Lumbly, but, dude, drop the dead wife thing already. Sorry. It's not that I'm not sympathetic. It's just that I simply DON'T CARE.
Before Syd can reach over and knock that huge rock labeled "VENGEANCE" off Dix's shoulder, he leaves, and Syd turns to Jack, declaring that, if someone wanted to set Will up, this would be the perfect way to do it. Then she drops a portion of her brain onto the floor and requests a special protection detail for Francinator. Dude. The clone. Will? Not the clone. Syd also wants to tell Francinator about Will. You know, how he's a clone in custody and everything. Jack's all, yeah, sure, that's fine. Go right ahead. It's not like Francinator's a GENE-SPLICED FREAK or anything.
Demonic Double's Dwelling. Syd's cryptically asking Francinator if she's noticed anything strange about Will recently. Like, has he started smiling one second, but then the minute you turn your back, the smile drops from his face and he gets this expression that closely resembles that of Linda Blair in The Exorcist? Or, you know, has he started putting bugging devices in TVs or giving weird gifts of ties to his friend's lover and then just sitting around, listening in on or watching his roommate have wild monkey sex? Anything like that? Francinator puts on a good performance and pretends to come up with a comment on how Will has been acting distant lately. Syd's all, for how long? Francinator's all, well, ever since he got back from his trip to Chicago. Okay, now, if I were really self-involved (not to mention delusional), I'd think that this was a direct shout-out to me. Dude. Chicago. Me. Here. I'm going to enjoy this little moment of personal attention and do my very own version of the Happy Dance.
Wendy Kroy: Don't do that. Ever.
Rona: Sweetie? Are you having a fit or something? That doesn't look...normal.
My happiness is momentary, however, because after taking in this Will intel, Syd promptly returns to The Land of the Seriously Sucky Spies and blabs to Francinator that she doesn't work for a bank. Yes, that's right, folks. Syd tells Francinator she's CIA. Francinator. Clone. Will. NOT CLONE. Sydney. Worst. Spy. EVER.
Conference Room of Endless Expositions. Jack does all the talking as he informs Syd and Vaughn that they got some crap off Will's computer that identified the man who invented the computer imaging equipment used by the clone doctor dude. Yeah, his name is Marcovic. But would YOU have known who he was if I just said his name? Didn't think so. And shut up. I'm only twenty minutes into this episode and I have A WHOLE OTHER ONE TO DO. So stop bugging me.
Right, so this computer guy, Hans Jurgens, invented this equipment that was used by Clone Doc to monitor the cloning patients during their gene therapy. Oh. And I care because…? That's right. Don't care. Syd surmises that, if they can get their hands on this Jurgens dude, he might be able to tell them the identity of the second double. Kendall shits all over this idea, basically saying that if Will ain't Will, then they can't trust his intel. Syd's all, but it IS Will. It's really him. Kendall's all, I am getting SO bored with your hunches. Syd just looks at him like, um, dude? My dad will SO kick your ass for saying that. Kendall realizes he just put his size eleven Rockport directly into his mouth and gets this hilarious expression on his face that's like, oh, fucking hell. And I was sitting right fucking to Jack when I said it. Jesus, I must be drunk. Shouldn't have had all that ouzo for breakfast.
Kendall recovers quickly and hides his faux pas in a demand to have Will moved to some prison for unrestricted interrogation. Syd's all, but he's my friend! Kendall's all, like I care! Syd's all, you're a mean, mean man! Kendall's all, dude, Jack, help me out here. We can't keep letting your daughter's relationships call the shots around here. Syd's all, Daddeeeee! Kendall's all, oh, man -- someone spank her! Vaughn gets up and moves over near Syd's ass, hand at the ready, but Jack finally decides to join the conversation with, "FOR NOW TIPPIN STAYS HERE."
Hee. I love Angry Jack.
Kendall shuts up. Syd shuts up. Vaughn puts his hand in his pocket and takes his seat again. Jack hands out the operation briefing. Their contact will meet them in country. And by the way, the contact is totally superfluous, and the only reason for him being there is because he has a funny German accent. I'm totally convinced of this.
The Cell Formerly Known As Den Of Delights. Will's hanging out, pondering his protein-soaked retinas, when Dix shows up. Will's all, dude, I am SO glad to see you. Dix is all, save it, Clone-Boy. Then he hands Will a file with a bunch of horrific pictures of Dead Diane. Oh, and a copy of Will's fingerprint that was found on the remote detonator that was conveniently found amongst Will's things.
Rona: Oh, okay. That is just fucking stupid.
Wendy Kroy: Isn't Will cute when he's distressed?
Regina: I'm with you, Rona. What, you blow up a car and then you, what, toss the remote detonator in with your MP3 player and that copy of Maxim you keep telling everyone you only read for the articles?
Rona: I know! What is UP with that?
Wendy Kroy: Will's so cute.
Regina: Dude. Wendy. Give it up.
Wendy Kroy: Bite me, Belinda. Will's my baby.
Dix goes seriously apeshit on Will about finding Sloane. There's lots of yelling on Dix's part, and lots of groveling on Will's. Finally, Will claims that he'll prove to Dixon that he's not a clone. Yeah. We know that already. Will? Not the clone. God. Dix asks Will how they met. Will gets that answer right. But he fucks up on the one, where they met. In all honesty, Will looks so upset at the fact that he can't remember stuff that, unless Dixon recently had his eyes poked out with toothpicks, he'd clearly be able to see that Will's not the clone. But then, we knew that already.
Dix, having had a fine plate of revenge for breakfast along with his cup full of animosity and his side order of trust issues, just up and grabs Will by the throat with one beefy hand and proceeds to strangle him. "You murdered my wife," he says calmly, as Will lamely struggles. "You...murdered...my wife," he says, even calmer, his lip sneering. "You murdered..." Finally, Dix realizes that he's just about to do some murdering of his own, and lets Will go. Dix exits, leaving Will to sputter and spew and wonder why nice guys always, ALWAYS finish last.
Out in Oops Center, Dix straightens his tie as Kendall stomps over and informs him that Will's being moved to that interrogation place, and he wants Dix to supervise. Dix is all, uh, okay, but I thought Jack pooh-poohed that idea. Kendall's all, yeah, well, who CARES what Jack did, huh? He ain't here now, brother. And he's been overruled by the Department of Justice, okay? So get a move on!
Demonic Double's Dwelling. Francinator's chatting with Sark on her cell phone. Yeah. Because that wouldn't be tapped or monitored or anything. She tells Sarkalicious that the Worst Spy Ever broke her cover. Sark's all, she what? What kind of asstastic spy IS she? Francinator's all, I know! Can you believe it? What a fuckwit! Sark's all, yeah, totally. But don't forget, if Tippin talks, Syd totally gonna know you're a fake. I think. Maybe. I don't know. What're you wearing? Francinator's all, actually, I'm wearing a curvy little red top that accentuates my perky breasts very nicely, and a stunning red lipstick. But that's not important right now. What is important is that I found out they're moving Tippin to The Land of Interminable Interrogation, and once he's there, you won't be able to get your grubby little hands on him. Sark's all, oh, okay. Grab the Willage. Francinator's all, fine. And then? Sark's all, what do you mean "and then"? Kill the poncey little fruit.
Wendy Kroy: I resent that.
Regina: Resent what?
Wendy Kroy: The "poncey little fruit" comment.
Regina: Why on EARTH would you resent that?
Wendy Kroy: Because Will is neither poncey nor a fruit.
Regina: No. No, he isn't. But YOU are.
Wendy Kroy: Yes. And THAT is what I resent. Goddammit.
Berlin. We've been here before, and I believe I used up all my funny the last time. Elevator doors open, and Vaughn and Syd are standing outside, pretending to be Neo and Trinity. But -- and, um, no offense to Michael Vartan or Jennifer Garner here, seriously -- they are NO Keanu Reeves and Carrie Anne Moss. And yes, I will be waiting in line for the premiere. Because I am an ASS.
On the elevator, the totally useless generic German contact guy and Syd engage in a little code conference and obviously clear each other. German Guy is all, yeah, so we tracked this Jurgens dude to a sex club. Syd audibly sighs and announces that she thinks they should move in on Jurgens right now. Vaughn gets this slightly lascivious twist to his mouth. Hee. Syd's all, what? Vaughn's all, uh, nothin'! I'm not picturing you in latex or anything. Not me. Nuh-uh.
Marilyn Manson's Living Room. All the German Sex Kittens are present and accounted for, including Jurgens himself. Vaughn, not dressed in leather or latex or anything remotely resembling a fetishist's wardrobe, watches Jurgens from the other end of the bar. Finally, Syd enters, sporting a red leather number that does no favors to her curvy hips or her rather masculine shoulders. Again, not that Jennifer Garner's not a pretty girl or anything, just...the S&M look isn't so good on her.
Rona: She looks like a drag queen.
Wendy Kroy: She looks like a BAD drag queen.
Regina: Hey, I think she IS a bad drag queen!
Syd Vicious makes her way over to Vaughn, and he tartly says, "I'm glad I'm not the one in leather." "You'd look cute in a teddy," says Syd, and you just know that if they didn't have to nab this Jurgens dude, they'd TOTALLY be getting it on in one of the sex rooms upstairs. Vaughn points out Jurgens and his security team; Syd takes a gulp of water and crunches down HARD on a piece of ice. It's actually really damn funny. Like she's just, Oh, fuck it. Let's get this over with. CRRRRUNCH. Hee.
Syd Vicious delivers her best impersonation of a German dominatrix, and Jurgens totally takes the bait. Upstairs in one of the sex rooms, Syd whips him hard across the ass, primarily because he's wearing the most hideous silk leopard print boxers I've ever seen in my life. Then, Vaughn enters, and Syd turns. "Hello, honey!" she smiles. "Hello, dear!" says Vaughn sweetly. Hee.
Vaughn pulls out the digital camera, and Syd Vicious starts making with the blackmail poses. Jurgens claims he didn't know the second double and that he just built the machine for Clone Doc. Basically, Jurgens just gives up that Clone Doc needed a huge-ass server farm to put out the kind of power needed to clone a human. That's it. That's all he tells them. Doesn't know which server farm, doesn't know where, doesn't know who the second double is. Nothing. Syd and Vaughn finally realize he's a lost cause, drop the digital storage card on the table, and bolt.
And now we come to one of my favorite scenes in the entire finale.
Oops Center. Kendall's fucking around with a computer. Probably trying to find the back button on his browser. Moron. Jack walks up, and he's all, please explain this Tippin transfer order, you pinhead. Kendall's all, Tippin's the clone and he's dangerous, you megalomaniac. Jack's all, dude, unrestricted interrogation is SO not good right now. Oh, and your fly's open. Kendall's all, nice try, fuckface. But the Justice Department is on my side, not yours. Tippin's a threat, and JD wants to be consulted on our every move from now on. "What did you think, Jack?" he sneers. "That I just forged a transfer order on CIA letterhead?" "Actually, yes," says Jack. "Yes, I did. But the fact that you didn't use purple crayon this time kind of threw me off. You went behind my back." "That's hardly unheard of in this office," snits Kendall in a rather girly fashion.
Wendy Kroy: Catfight!
Regina: Scratch her eyes out!
Rona: Pull her hair!
Regina: Get that bitch!
Wendy Kroy: Hee!
"So, what, was this retribution for me taking your parking space?" snaps Jack. Hee. He kind of spits out that "parking space" and you totally know some saliva whapped onto Kendall's chin. Heh. Kendall just breathes heavily out of his nostrils and claims that he did what his job compelled him to do. "Nothing more, nothing less," he grits. "And if you can't see that I'm trying to protect the lives of everyone in this operations center then I overestimated your intelligence." He walks off, leaving Jack to wonder if he could be sent to prison for pantsing a high-level member of the CIA.
Will's Great Escape. This scene rocked and everything, but it's hardly worth recapping. Suffice it to say that Will's being transferred, Dix is a member of the convoy, Will's on a big Fugitive bus, and Bradley Cooper looks adorable even in prison garb. There are shots, the bus rolls over, blam blam and more blam blam and confusion and lots of dead FBI officers and dead enemies and we were all really surprised at how many people wound up dead. Much more than usual.
Oh, and by the way, I have GOT to get hold of Francinator's organizer. That woman is amazing. Not only can she pretend to be someone's clueless best friend while hypnotizing a cute boy into thinking he's having sex with her, but she can put together a mini-coup in less than twenty-four hours? If Syd's the Worst Spy Ever, than Francinator gets my vote as the Best Spy On The Planet.
Guns. Bullets. Dead guys. Dixon killing some of them. One of the enemy guys tries to extract Will from the bus, but an FBI agent shoots him in the back before he can complete the job. Will grabs a shotgun, gets out of the bus, and suddenly develops a miraculous ability to shoot a gun as if he's spent the last three years going to the rifle range twice a week. Once again, Bradley Cooper looks hot. He's wearing those prison pants that are far too short for him and his ankles are sticking out, so it's actually really funny, but with the gun? Hot, people. Sad, but true.
Will makes for the hills. Dix looks after him and at the carnage around him. Oh, Dixon...you got some 'splainin' to doooo...
Oops Center. Syd enters, frothing at the mouth. "You son of a bitch," she spits at Kendall. "You transferred Will to Camp Harris, even after we agreed to keep him here." Kendall's all, son of a bitch? Did you just...I know you didn't just call me that. Listen, sister, your daddy may be my boss right now, but that does NOT mean you can swan around here and call me names. "Who the hell do you think you are to talk to me like that?" Hee.
Syd's all, Will might be dead! Kendall's all, yeah? Well, dead or not, he arranged his own escape! Syd's all, what, from a HOLDING CELL? Kendall's all, worked pretty well for your Russian bitch of a mother. Syd's all, oh, will you get OVER your crush on her already? Dix is all, dude, I saw Will shoot a gun. And he looked goooood. Syd's all, are you sure it wasn't self-defense? Jack's all, uh, how 'bout y'all give us a few minutes, okay?
Everyone leaves, and Jack walks over to his daughter. Syd's all, sorry about the whole mouthing off to Kendall thing. Jack's all, oh, honey, I don't care about that. The man looks like a penis. He's nothing to me. But you do need to accept the fact that the guy in the cell may NOT have been your best platonic non-gay male friend. Syd's all, okay, um, I'm gonna quiver my chin here a bit and turn on the waterworks because, dude? If that's true, then Will's probably dead, and if Will's dead, I will FREAK the fuck OUT. Right here, right now, in Technicolor. Jack quietly assures his daughter that, as soon as they find that server farm or whatever, they'll let her know. Until then, go pop a few Valium, watch The Bachelor, and get some rest, for god's sake.
Empty Office Building Of Clandestine Bad-Guy Meetings. Irina's there with a briefcase full of money, and she's talking to some guy with an accent. He gives her a disc with the NSA blueprints she was looking for. Then he informs her that, even if she has the blueprints, she'll have to crack the new access control system. Irina looks subtly surprised at this announcement.
Demonic Double's Dwelling. Syd's obviously just performed her second Worst Spy Ever move of the evening, because Francinator's crying and saying something about how she just can't believe that Will's a clone. So, let's see...Syd has now told her evil roommate that A) she's a spy, B) Will's a clone, and C) Will's escaped. Jesus. What's she gonna pull for an encore? What, when Will calls from some random location, is she gonna tell him about the server farm in Europe right in front of Francinator? And when Will tells her that Clone Doc had a farm in Marseilles and that maybe it wasn't a pig farm but a server farm, is she gonna practically SHOUT "Marseilles?!" so that Francinator can put two and two together and know the precise location of the server farm so that, later, she can make it so Irina knows first and then beats Syd to the farm itself and fucks everything up?
Oh. Wait.
Yeah. Um. So Will calls, and he's panicked and dirty and scared, and Syd tries to get him to turn himself in, and Will claims he'd rather die first and that Syd screwed up his life but that he still loves her, and then Syd, even though she just told Francinator that there were certain things she wasn't authorized to talk about, blabs the entire server farm thing and the Marseilles thing and -- yeah. There ya go.
Wendy Kroy: Okay. Seriously? Worst. Spy. Ever.
Rona: She's not even bad enough to be the worst. She's just fucking lame.
Regina: Yeah, but she's cute. And she kicks all sorts of ass.
Wendy Kroy: Wait. Are you batting for the pink team now?
Regina: Um. No. But thanks for asking.
Rona: Most. Abysmal. Spy. EVER.
As soon as Syd leaves the apartment, Francinator buzzes Sark and tells him about Marseilles. He tells her to stay put, and that finding Will is her top priority. And apparently, Sark's top priority is to look really nifty in a brown Hugo Boss suit. Irina enters and Sark asks how her meeting went. She tells him about the NSA security stuff. Sark's all, oh, please. We've handled shit like that before. Irina's all, uh, nope. The old codes I got from Echelon won't work anymore. Then she says something about a time-synchronized key card or something. Sark's all, hmmm...perhaps a CIA agent, perhaps, under duress, could obtain such a key code? Irina snaps her head up. "I'm about to confess something that will either delight you -- which I hope is the case, that would be nice -- or it will make you furious," Sark says, speaking more words than we've EVER heard him speak before. "While you were away, Will Tippin was ordered to Camp Harris for unrestricted interrogation. They would have found out about our asset."
Irina's all, Sarkie? What'd you do while Mommy was away on business? Sark's all, uh, I kinda sorta ordered Will extracted and then killed. Irina's all, bad Sarkie! Bad boy! Sark's all, oh, whatever. Syd's on her way to Marseilles to the server farm to uncover evidence that will clear Tippin. Oh, and as a byproduct, she'll find out that Francinator is the clone. Not Will. Will? Not the clone. Francinator? The clone.
Irina's all, is Will dead? Sark's all, nope. At large. And cute. And if we recover the evidence in Marseilles before Sydney, we can force her hand. "Proof of Will's innocence in exchange for her aid in securing a key card," he finishes. Irina just looks at him as if to say, "Okay, I'm still mad about the whole 'extracted and killed' thing, but that's a really good plan, so you're off the hook. For now."
Random Street Of Tentative Father/Daughter Affections. Jack hands Syd a document and tells her that forensics proved Will's fingerprint was placed on the detonator after it was wiped down. Syd's all, this rules! Now we can prove he was framed! Jack's all, yeah, but it'll take hours to get Justice to approve our infiltration of the server farm. So, you know, you and Vaughn...head on over there anyway and start, like, infiltrating. Syd's all, but Kendall will report you! Jack's all, yeah, I'm aware of that. Syd's all, but, wait, if the DOJ finds out you initiated an op without -- "Sydney? I've been doing this longer than you have," he says, cutting her off. "I'm not cut out for management anyway." Aw. Syd plants a kiss on his cheek and smiles at him. And here's where Victor Garber shows us his acting chops and almost imperceptibly shifts his expression so that we see the slight melt that happens to his cold reserve. It's really fucking amazing.
Oops Center. Jack's fucking around with his computer, probably decoding the push-throughs from this past season with a special decryption code he developed back in 1978. Kendall walks up, all ready for a fight. He's like, dude? We have to talk. Jack's like, I'm already on top of it, my man. DOJ sanctioned me. I'm no longer in charge here. Kendall's all, uh, what? A month ago, you maneuver me out of my job, and now you're handing it back to me on a platinum Bee Gees record?
Jack's all, I belong in the field. And the Bee Gees rule. Kendall's all sweetness and light now that he's back in charge. He's like, dude. We can help each other. We don't have to be enemies. "I appreciate your magnanimity," sneers Jack. Kendall snidely laughs. "Well, now you're just mocking me." "Yes," says Jack, with almost no expression. Hee. "You know," says Kendall, still making nice-nice, "part of the reason I sent Tippin to Camp Harris was to protect Sydney." "Why do you think you have your job back?" glares Jack, stalking off. Hee again. And some more hee. Hee hee. I love these guys.
Wendy Kroy: I love them too. And the Bee Gees do rule.
Rona: They do not. Abba rules.
Regina: Actually, I think Abba might trump the Gees.
Wendy Kroy: How can you say that? Bee Gees. Satin pants. NO UNDERWEAR.
Regina: Ew, dude.
Rona: I think I have to second that "ew." And you are NEVER sleeping with me again.
Wendy Kroy: Oh, like THAT'S some sort of threat.
Rona: Bitch.
Wendy Kroy: Slag.
Regina: What are you, the Olsen Twins? Shut the fuck up. The show's almost over.
Café of Confrontations. Jack's sitting at an outdoor table, sucking on a glass of vodka. I'd assume that it's water, but there's only a quarter of it in the glass and there's no ice, so let's go with the vodka. The waitress comes up, hands him the bill, Jack drops some cash on the bill, and she thanks him. By name. Then he thanks her. By name. Okay, when did Jack start being friendly with servers? Is he DRUNK? Maybe it's because he's drinking vodka today instead of scotch. My ex-boyfriend Ruprecht got really fucking mean on scotch, but vodka? A total kitty-cat.
Anyway, someone walks up behind Jack and sits down on the other side of the table. We don't initially see who it is, but judging by Jack's expression, it ain't a five-hundred-dollar-an-hour hooker with huge hooters. It's Sloane. Looking smarmy and self-satisfied as always. Sloane's all, hey, Jack! What up? Jack's all, huh. That's weird. You don't seem to be afraid for your life. Can I assume, then, that I'm the crosshairs of a sniper rifle at the moment? Sloane's all, two, actually. Good guess, though.
"I've missed your poker face," says Satan Sloane. Hee. Then he says he forgives Jack. Jack's all, uh, I beg your pardon? YOU forgive ME? I don't THINK so. Sloane's all, so, tell me -- when, exactly, did our friendship go sour? Jack's all, the minute you recruited my daughter against my wishes. Sloane's all, yeah, I thought that might have been it. If I had known that my decision back then would have cost us our friendship and my relationship with Sydney, I would have, you know, done things differently.
Jack's all, oh go back to the mountain, Mr. Mojo Rising. No one's interested in anything you're selling. Sloane's all, hey, I'm here to make you an offer. Jack gets this hilarious expression on his face that's like, "Oh. An offer? What, a time share in the Poconos? God, you're short." Then he asks Sloane, rather facetiously, what the offer is. Sloane wants to renew their partnership. Jack wants Sloane to go blow himself.
Sloane yammers on about Rambaldi and how he thought Rambaldi's work was a window to the past. "Today," he smirks, "I am one move away from proving to you that it is so much more than that. And this time, Sydney won't be a pawn in our venture. Jack, sit here for awhile and think about it." Jack's all, yeah. Whatever, freakshow. Go off and build your Rambaldi shit. I don't care. You're still short. And we'll never work together again.
Sloane's all, oh, but we will, Jack. But we will. Before busting into his impersonation of Dr. Evil, Sloane tells Jack that if he makes a move or dials his cell within thirty minutes, the snipers will put a bullet in his brain. Ron Rifkin's got that "I know the secrets of the universe" vibe down pat. He tosses on his sunglasses and saunters off, leaving Jack to wonder just how short Sloane is and, if warranted, how much shorter Jack could make him by, say, cutting off his legs.
Marseilles. Again. Not so much with the funny. ONE WHOLE OTHER RECAP TO GO, PEOPLE. Make up your own funny, okay? Syd and her Boys of Company Boom Chicka Boom Chicka Boom Boom Boom are hanging somewhere down by the docks. Or something. I have no idea. Syd's sporting the black knit cap again, so we know we're in for some ass-kicking and bungled spy maneuvers.
Syd blah blahs something about the chief of security holding a kill switch that can destroy all the data stored on the server in one fell swoop. Syd's going to bust a move and secure the kill switch so no data can be lost. Vaughn lamely announces that, as soon as Syd confirms she has the kill switch, the Boys should move in and consider everyone hostile. Does that include that ugly-ass shirt you're wearing, Vaughn? Dammit. How come he never gets good field costumes like Syd?
After telling the Boys that they'll upload the clone info to the CIA after securing the place, Syd shakes a bottle of champagne, uncorks it, and sprays it all over Vaughn. Hee. It's stupid, yeah, but it's funny. Vaughn looks at her all, dude. You're ENJOYING this. Syd just grins at him all, you bet your ASS I am.
thing we know, we're watching as a car careens up to a chain link fence. We get a glimpse of the chief of security watching the action on his monitors, the kill switch conveniently wrapped around his wrist. Back outside, a very drunk Vaughn stumbles out of the car and approaches the security guards. As he distracts the guards, Syd does some shit in the background, breaking into the facility. "I love you, man!" Vaughn drunkenly exclaims. Hee. After the guards shove him off, Vaughn goes, "Why're you so grumpy, man?" More hee.
Syd runs around and then rappels up the side of a building. Vaughn heads back to the Boys and gets ready to move in when Syd gives the signal. Syd makes it inside. Oh, and the facility? Pure white. Syd's outfit? Pure black. Yeah, because she's not gonna stand out amongst all those spanking white pipes or anything.
In the chief's office, he hears a noise behind him and turns. We think it's Syd, but since we check in with her a second later and she's still far, far away from the office, I think we can assume that it was someone else who surprised the chief. Then Syd's running through stark white hallways, with nary a guard in sight. How convenient for her. She makes it to the office and comes upon the chief, his throat slashed. Niiiice.
Syd backs up. "Hello, Sydney," trills her mother from behind. Syd turns, and Irina stuns her with one of those rod thingys. Syd falls to the ground, and Vaughn hears this. Irina stuns her again and kicks the gun away. She's all, I know what you're after, sweetie. That whole "let's clear Will's name" thing, right? Yeah. Not so much with that, babe. Irina hits the kill switch, and the servers go down. Vaughn's freaking the fuck out and orders the Boys to move in.
Syd's all, you erased it! That was SO not nice of you. Irina's all, relax. I transferred a copy to a secure location. In exchange, I want you to do a little something for your mommy. Syd's all, fuck me sideways, you evil hussy. Irina's all, watch the potty mouth, precious, or I won't let you watch the Survivor finale. Oh, and if you don't help me, you'll never clear Will's name, and he'll be tried as a traitor and executed. You want THAT on your conscience?
"I'll be calling on you soon, Sydney," says Irina. Then she bolts. Um. Why couldn't she just ask for what she needed right then? Huh? Then Syd could have gotten the...oh, fuck it. Two more minutes to go until the fucking recap...
Hell-Lay. Will's making like Anthony Kiedis under the bridge somewhere, and yes, Bradley Cooper even looks cute when he's dirty and covered in blood. Will looks around nervously. Suddenly, we hear a horn honk. A blue Ford Fuckus pulls up nearby. Will looks around to make sure no one's got a gun trained on him, and he runs toward the car. And guess who his ride is? Francinator. The clone. Will. Not the clone. Francinator? SO the clone.
Stay tuned for the killer recap...