Unveiled

First and foremost, thanks be to God for all that is Kim and holy. She did a righteous job recapping the last two eps while I was in jolly old Londontown, and for that I owe her my undying love and gratitude. Kim rules.

Second and secondmost, I found the last episode so goddamn confusing that I'm not even sure I can moderately recap it in a concise fashion. Of course, I was drunk when I watched the tape, but I watched it again SOBER, and it didn't make any more sense. Maybe if I'd been on crack. Or crack and heroin. Or crack and heroin AND SUDAFED. As far as my non-addled mind could tell, however, Jack was kind of onto Evilauren, but before he could catch her red-handed, she killed her father and framed him for being the mole. Or, more correctly, according to the previouslys, Lauren tried to kill her father, but The Eyeliner of Evil wasn't strong enough or something, so Lauren's mommy had to handle the killing for her. And then it was discovered that Sloane and Senator Reed were in cahoots or something and that means that Sloane was in violation of his pardon agreement, so his ass is grass. Or, more correctly, his butt is fried. In two weeks, to be exact. And then some scar-faced dude told Syd and Vaughn that the box with "IRINA" written on it contained a plague-like bio-weapon. The Covenant refers to the bio-weapon as "The Passenger." I tell you all this not because it's my job, but because half this shit either dissolves by the middle of the episode or just flat-out disappears with no further explanation. Not that it really matters, because, dudes? Lauren is SO screwed.

And now, for your viewing pleasure, Ford Fuckus Theatre proudly presents Alias or: How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Drink More So This Show Actually Made Sense.

Sloane's chained to a chair. He says that he placed something powerful in the box and now the Covenant has it. He secured it with keys that Rambaldi himself had hidden. Iwhat? So this box that the Covenant was given in exchange for Dixon's kids was actually something Sloane put together? And how'd he secure it with keys thatshit. We're not two seconds in and I need another quart of grain alcohol to SHUT OFF THE REMAINING WORKING PORTION OF MY BRAIN just to deal with this fucking show.

"Bomani and Sark found the keys," says Sloane. Well, actually, Syd and Vaughn found the keys; Bomani and Sark just basically stole them. We catch up with Bomani and Sark as they're getting ready to open up the box. Bomani places four yellow Necco wafers onto the corners of the box. What? They look like Necco wafers, y'all. The Necco wafers sink down into the box, a mechanism clicks on, and the box opens. "Which means they have the heart," says Sloane. Inside the box is a plastic heart with a pulsating red center. The Di Regno heart. Okay, so, the Di Regno heart. It should be noted that I totally forgot about this piece of crap since it last appeared in SEASON GODDAMN TWO. For those of you curious as to its origins and purpose, I suggest you go here. And then read all about it. From that point on. Because I refuse to recap a recap. That's just lame. And time-consuming. And makes my inner ear bleed.

All we need to know, for the purposes of this recap, is that the Di Regno heart is an engine designed to power the Rambaldi machine known as "il Dire" or "The Telling." Yeah. That machine Sloane put together at the end of Season Two. As Bomani puts the heart in this humongous ancient machine that looks like it permanently lives in a back room at the Smithsonian, we hear Sloane say, "What they will witness is nothing short of a resurrectionas if Rambaldi is reaching through the centuries to deliver a message." The machine grinds and whirrs and clicks. Bomani gets a look on his face and says, "He's speaking." He moves toward the machine and bends down. A piece of parchment is racing beneath a team of stylus pens and something's being written down. That's it. That's il Dire.

Okay. What? I mean, really. WHAT? This huge-ass machine -- which has 47 parts and requires a forklift and a crane and several burly men to put it together, is powered by a plastic heart that's loaded with a fucking Rudolph nose, is so ancient that it practically spits out dust when it operates, and is apparently able to disassemble itself in a matter of seconds and shove itself into a conveniently located duffle bag -- exists solely to PRINT OUT A PIECE OF PAPER? What, so it's a giant Renaissance fax machine now? Where on EARTH do they come up with this shit? Seriously. I want a bowl of whatever the writers are smoking because that weed is tasty, man.

After the anticlimax, Dixon, who's obviously been interrogating Sloane, surmises that the Covenant is after The Passenger -- how will il Dire help them obtain it? Sloane's all, huh. Looks like you need some assistance. If I help, could you throw a brother a bone and kinda sorta forget about that execution thing? Dix is all, you know what? Sure! You want some mac 'n' cheese to go with your NOT A CHANCE IN FUCKING HELL, SLIMEBALL? Dix goes to leave, and Sloane speaks up that he'll talk to Jack about The Passenger. Dix bends over and just grits, "There will be no deal." Sloane just leans forward and hisses, "You make that quite clear." Ooooh. Was it just me, or did everyone else out there wonder how it is that Sloane is still really frickin' scary, even when he's bound and chained to a chair? I firmly believe that, like Irina, that man could do serious damage to someone even if he had no limbs, no eyes, no mouth, and one lung.

Oops Center. Syd's staring off into the distance, watching her never-really-had-him boyfriend and his not-so-subtly-duplicitous wife-type-person chatting with Marshall. Oh, give it UP, Sydney! That boy is not worth it. And neither are your bangs when they're pushed to the side like that. You look like a fifty-year-old spinster librarian. Knock it off. Agent Sean walks up and tells her that there's been a cyber-attack and that Dix is ready to brief them. Sydney, who's obviously too busy erasing her file containing variations on "Mrs. Sydney Bristow-Vaughn," doesn't even answer him. He sees her checking out the Elephants. "You know, Syd," he says, speaking for all of us, "no one would blame you if you hated him for going back to her." "He's not the one I hate," says Syd, also speaking for all of us, "how horrible does that sound?" "Well," quips Sean, "I hate her and I don't even think he's that cute." Heh. Forget Vaughn, Syd. Go for Sean. He's dreamy. And funny. And he'll let you eat corn chips in bed. Mmmmcorn chips.

Syd tries to back out of her "I hate her just for being, well, her" corner by stating that Jack thinks Lauren's the mole. Weiss is all, dude? Didn't Senator Reed confess to all those charges? Syd's all, yeah, yeah, yeah. Details, dude. I still think she's the mole. The moley moley moley mooooole. Weiss is all, okay, um, do you think she's the mole, or do you just really, really, deep down in your heart, wish she was the mole? Syd has absolutely no answer for this, primarily because it's actually BOTH.

Conference Room of Endless Expositions. Syd and Weiss enter, and Syd takes a seat right to Lauren. Dix tells the troops that a cyber-terrorist attack has been launched and that it launched from a server in Berlin. Within 24 hours, it's estimated that the virus will consume over half of all internet bandwidth. Marshall pipes up that the virus is targeting hospitals, medical research facilities, and the like. Jack states that 20 terabytes of patient data and research databases have already been corrupted. (And yes, I looked up "terabyte" -- it's a storage definition. Don't you know me at ALL by now?)

Syd's all, so, what? The Covenant is behind this? I don't know why she's even asking. The Covenant's behind everything. Terrorism. The war on Iraq. The mysterious force that steals one of my socks from the dryer every time I do laundry. Bellybutton lint. Cargo pants. Everything. Dix states that, since The Passenger is a bio-weapon (because it is, you know, IT IS), the CIA is assuming that the Covenant is launching a precursor attack on all things medical, making sure that when The Passenger is launched, hospitals and medical facilities won't be able to deal with it.

"Are these our only leads?" asks Lauren, causing Syd to look over at her sharply, obviously seeking the invisible antennae and satellite dish that she imagines should pop right out of the top of Lauren's head so she can immediately communicate any insider CIA information to her outside partner. Please, Syd! Lauren's far too sophisticated for a clunky move like that! No, she'll just slink outside andgo around the corner and use her cell phone to call her boyfriend with the info. She won't even leave Oops Center to do it! That's how bloody clever she is! Marshall answers Lauren's question by stating that the virus code has all the markings of some hacker named "Cypher," and he operates out of Berlin. Looks like Vaughn and Syd are brushing up on their German. They head off to get their op-tech from Marshall, as Lauren glares after them, doing everything but getting up onto the conference table and screaming, "Keep yer hands off mah man!" God, she's truly awful. In every sense of the word.

Marshall's Garage of Geekiness. Marshall enters, followed by Vaughn and Syd and Syd's newly appearing bangs. What, did she stop on the way to Marshall's just to fix them? Was she all, Vaughn? Hang on a minute. I need a pit stop. And then she rushed into the bathroom, whipped out her cordless curler, and went to town on her fringe? I justthese are the things that bother me about this show. Well, these things and the fact that NOTHING EVER MAKES SENSE. Okay, so, anyway, comedic Marshall moment ensues, including the reveal of his super-secret hacker name: Black Kitty. Heh. That's a nice hacker name, Marshall. For a GIRL. So, this Cypher guy is supposed to be at an underground club in Berlin tomorrow night.

Vaughn wants to know how they'll identify the guy, seeing as he's so private about his identity. Marshall introduces them to a pair of very cool sunglasses that double as a wireless sniffer. The glasses will locate Cypher and then, by pressing a button on the side or something, the glasses then will send Cypher a message. Oh, whatever. I can barely keep my glasses free of finger smudges and udon noodle soup splashes, so these glasses would be toast in my hands. "Are we sure he'll have his computer with him?" asks Syd. "Does a cowboy leave his gun at home when he goes to the saloon?" quips Marshall. Syd and Vaughn don't even crack a smile. "Em, erm, trust me," sweats Marshall, "he'll have it."

Florence, Italy. The place where, if the gods were being kind, I'd be right at this moment, enjoying a plate of orriechette in butter and sage and a nice, bright Florentine red. The gods apparently spit on my general existence, however, because I'm here, in Chicago, in April, AND IT'S THIRTY DEGREES OUTSIDE. Sigh. We head on over to the Covenant HQ, where Bomani has a bunch of guys in red overshirts manning computers. He asks one of them how much longer 'til they match the sequence from il Dire. The guy informs him that by tomorrow afternoon or so, the database should be complete and they should have a perfect match. Yeah, I have no idea what's going on.

Sark saunters up. Oh, how I do love to watch him saunter. Sark's all, I received a call from my associate. Bomani's all, dude? I know it's Lauren Reed, okay? You can stop calling her "associate." Hell, you could start calling her your goddamn girlfriend, what with the way you've been acting all distracted and loopy and downright undependable. Sark just smirks and tells him that the CIA has discovered Cypher's identity, but not to worry, Lauren's taking him out. In the permanent sense. Bomani just kind of purses his juicy lips and turns away, saying that Lauren's work, as of late, has been pretty goddamn crappy. "The il Dire machine is in our possession because she managed to steal it away from the CIA," says Sark, finally putting to rest in all our minds the question, "Just what in the hell happened to il Dire, anyway?" Oh, except for that part where it's 47 parts and they're all made of iron or something and there's no goddamn way that one little girl whose ass I could totally kick could wrangle that gargantuan piece of Rambaldi-esque machinery around the corner, let alone across continents.

Sark's all, dude? She's an ass. I'm sorry. I meant to say, "asset." She's a huge asset. Bomani's all, yeah, well, she's an asset to you in more ways than one and I, for one, am not interested in her bony little asset. Sark's all, okay, fine. I'll stake my reputation on her abilities. Bomani's all, oh, really? She's that good, huh? Okay. I'll hold you to your word. But make no mistake, dude. She fucks up, your gonna be buried right alongside her. Perhaps you can get matching plots? With a view? Bomani walks off, and Sark follows.

The Bedroom Of Lies And More Lies And, Oooh, Look! Some Lies! Lauren and Vaughn are both packing. Vaughn offers to go with Lauren on her trip. She reminds him that he's going to Berlin. Vaughn doesn't think she should be alone. She won't be. Mildred Pierce -- erm, "Mrs. Reed" will be there too. "Father's will made it very clear," says Lauren, "he wants his ashes scattered in Dover." Becausethat's where all American senators with ambiguously accented daughters have their ashes scattered? Seriously. Was the senator actually a Brit in his early years? That lineage justwhere do those people come from? And do the powers that be on this show think we don't have EARS? The girl is NOT AMERICAN, people. God. GOD.

Whatever, Lauren's bitching about how everyone at the CIA looks at her as if she's a guilty, lying, evil slut. She's very perceptive, this Lauren. There's more back and forth between them, and I think we're supposed to find Lauren's "poor me, my daddy's a traitor" performance so convincing that we almost feel sorry for her, but the only person I wound up feeling sorry for was Vaughn and, I gotta tell ya, I am sick and fucking tired of feeling sorry for Vaughn. Get a CLUE already! Your wife is EVIL! And this speech she gives? About thinking you know someone, and love someone, and then you find out it's all lies? That has ANVIL written clearly across it, people. The speech goes something like this: "He was my father! You have no idea what it's like to think you know someone, to love them, and then figure out it was nothing but lies." Wait, what? Who? Like your father? Like VAUGHN'S FATHER? Like YOU? Like everyone in this damn show except for Vaughn and Sydney? I justshut up, Boren.

Berlin. But The Part Of Berlin No One Tells You About Because This Is A Dark And Secret Cyber-Goth Club Especially For Cybergoth Punks Of The Matrix Variety. "GERMAN TECHNO MUSIC PLAYING," sayeth my closed captioning. And you know? I'm inclined to believe it. We're at a cyber-goth club or something. The cyber-goths, they are a-partying. The cyber-goth waitresses, they are a-serving. And they're all wearing these Chinese-type dresses and matching black and red wigs. Syd and some guy with punked-out hair and black eyeliner stroll through the crowded dance floor. I don't know who HE is, but he looks real purdy. They move through the crowd and Syd tries out her special glasses a couple of times, coming up with nothing. "Get anything?" says Syd's date. "Not yet," says Syd and OH MY GOD IS THAT VAUGHN? What's on his lip? Is that a PIERCING? And is he wearing eyeliner? And stubble? AndI think I have to lie down.

Syd finally latches onto Cypher's network, and she and Vaughn park it on a sofa, Vaughn slumping down and putting his feet up as he chomps carelessly on a piece of gum. Oh, he is killing me with this "I'm a cyber-punk, really, LOOK AT ME" thing. Syd crosses her netted legs and sends Cypher a message. He walks over and tells them that that was a nice trick, but that he'll have to fix his firewall. Syd snots that she could still get through it. Cypher's all, uh, and you are? GothVaughn just sneers, channeling Sid Vicious, and says, "We're big fans of your work." His eyeliner isdistracting. In the good way. He goes on to say that he and GothSyd were responsible for the DDOS attack on the Syrian government's network.

They continue exchanging cyber-goth tales as, over in a corner somewhere, Evilauren collects empty ashtrays and looks extremely dangerous in her red and black wig. GothVaughn and GothSyd bring up the Covenant worm and congratulate Cypher on his work. He's all, uh, yeah, not so much. I think I gotta go. He gets up to leave, pretending to be insulted that they're crediting him with the worm code. Evilauren sees her chance and takes aim with the gun she's holding beneath her tray. Just as she's about to pull the trigger, however, GothVaughn reaches up and grabs Cypher, shoving him down onto the sofa and announcing that they're CIA. Evilauren backs off.

GothSyd gets up in Cypher's face, telling him that the worm he created is helping the Covenant launch a biological weapon. You know, in case we all forgot that part. As GothSyd takes a page out of The Exposition Fairy Handbook: Exposition Dances for Dummies, Evilauren continues to look for a window of opportunity to shoot the shit outta Cypher. Cypher, to his credit, looks totally freaked at the prospect of being responsible for thousands of deaths, and just says, "I didn't know. He didn't tell me." Syd's all, WHO? Cypher's all, a guy. He was young! British! Well, that was easy. Someone call Scotland Yard and tell them that Prince Harry's abusing his cell phone privileges again!

Vaughn asks Cypher why the worm is attacking medical facilities. Cypher tells Vaughn that it wasn't designed to do that, that instead it was designed to be capable of -- BAM! Evilauren's decided to throw caution to the wind and just shoot Cypher in the neck, right in plain sight. Cypher starts choking blood. Evilauren runs off. Syd goes after her while Vaughn looks after Cypher. Suddenly, Cypher hands Vaughn something shiny. Evilauren sees this and hurries off. Before she does, however, Syd clearly spots her. Evilauren turns and moves off. Syd catches up and spins her aroundonly to find that it's another waitress. And that's when she sees that all the waitresses are dressed exactly alike, and that glimpse of Evilauren might just have been her imagination. Yeah, if by "imagination" you mean, "Dead on and practically psychic."

Evilauren and her Black Lipstick of Loathsomeness exit the club and immediately call Sark to complain about how that whole shooting Cypher thing didn't quite go as planned. In fact, he managed to give the virus files to the CIA. Sark's all, oh, great. Nice going, moron! If they have the source code, they can stop the worm from circulating and we'll lose everything. Moronen's all, no! It'll be okay! If I can just corrupt the original files before they make a copySark's all, uh, that's a huge risk, dude. Moronen's all, oh, what, and letting Bomani know I failed isn't? Before Sark can say, "Well, actually, seeing as I'm going to shoot Bomani in just a little bit, I'd say the chances of him being any kind of risk to anyone are slim and none," Moronen hangs up the phone and runs off to pack her wig and gun and several fake passports into the false bottom of a suitcase that she's just going to leave in her closet so her husband will easily find it later and furrow his brow so hard it actually brings up the closing credits.

Uncle Arvin's Cage Of Caginess. The door buzzes, and Jack enters. Sloane leaps to his feat. So I guess he's only chained up when Dixon's around. Heh. It just occurred to me that Jack may very well be the only man that Sloane actually fears. And vice versa. Heh heh heh. Jack grits that Dixon's only given him clearance to discuss The Passenger. Sloane's all, oh, yeah, The Passenger. Whatever, dude. I already told you everything I know about that lame plotline. I just told Dix that so he'd let me spend some quality time with mah bra! What up, homie?! "This is no time for games," Jack snits. "This is no game, Jack!" Sloane almost-but-not-quite yells. "This is my life." God, I just love these two men. You know, when the stories suck and the action's lame and the sets all resemble Mexico, I may bitch and moan about this show, but it's Ron Rifkin and Victor Garber and Jennifer Garner and Michael Vartan and Greg Grunberg and David Anders and Carl Lumbly and the majority of the passing guest stars who keep me coming back. What? I'm not crying. I'm not. I'm sweating. Because the effort of loving this show, especially when it's dismal, is equivalent to running a one-minute mile, people.

Sloane spills that he was indeed working with Senator Reed, but he wasn't working to further the Covenant's agenda. Instead, he was working for an organization inside the U.S. Government known only as "The Trust." What? Seriously? "The Alliance," "The Covenant," "The Passenger," and now "The Trust"? That's almost as bad as "The Man." No, actually it's WORSE than "The Man," because Quentin Tarantino actually made "The Man" sound cool. Who comes up with these names? I can't determine if the writers are just lazy or if they're following some edict handed down by JJ himself. I mean, what's ? "The Firm"? "The Apprentice"? "The Restaurant"? Those little pishers better put down the weed and pick up a goddamn thesaurus before I brain them with a Bartlett's. I swear to God, tomorrow I'm buying a ticket to Hollywood, renting a car, driving to the Disney lot, storming into the writers' room, and TAKING AWAY EVERY LAST SPLIFF THEY HAVE IN THERE. Now, the blotter paper? The blotter paper I'm leaving. Because, really, can you imagine the names? "The Great Googly Moogly." "Kookamonga and the Krash Helmets." "Bring Me The Head Of Moronen McKugen Mogoogoo -- ooh, swirlies!"

Right. So, anyway, Reed was interested in Sloane's Rambaldi knowledge, so he made him an offer: if Sloane agreed to work with The Trust, Reed would secure his pardon. It was an offer he couldn't refuse. "And from that time on," says Sloane, "I did nothing but live up to my part of the bargain." Jack's all, okay, Sparky. I've never heard of "The Trust." Sloane's all, yeah? Wellthat's because they're on super-secret probation. Or something. Or Reed was my only contact. Yeah, that's it. Jack's all, oh, really? If The Trust is real, why haven't they come to your aid? Sloane, with a trace of real panic, says, "I don't know! Maybe they were fearful of revealing themselves. Or it could be that I outlived my usefulness." He turns back to Jack. "But you ask yourself, Jack. Have I been helpful this year? Tell me, have I lived up to my word? I helped Sydney recover her memory. I took a bullet for you for God's sake!" Jack kind of rears his head back at the remembrance of the bullet. His expression's like, oh, shit. Yeah. That's right. The bullet-taking. Dammit. Thought you might've forgotten about that. Well, Sloane didn't. And now it's payback time. He wants Jack to prove that The Trust exists.

CIA Safe House Of Suspicious Spies And The Men Who Secretly Love Them Even Though They're Still Moping Around With Their Duplicitous Wives. Vaughn's sitting on the sofa, staring at a laptop. He inserts the USB flash drive that Cypher gave him at the club. Syd and her bangs enter and inform Vaughn that Cypher has died. She thinks carefully for all of three seconds and then chooses this precise moment to tell Vaughn his wife's a lying killer. "Vaughn," she says, "I think I saw Lauren." He's all, whuh? In the whuh whuh? Syd's all, think about it! The Covenant knew we were after Cypher! And your wife's a bitch with a bad accent! Vaughn's all, wait a minute here -- you think my wife is Covenant? Syd blathers and blithers about all the stuff we already know, but that Vaughn's too fucking blind to see -- namely that Reed's suicide and confession were just far too convenient and that, oh, yes, Moronen's a jackass. Vaughn's not interested in Syd's Girl Scout "Your Wife's A Murderer" cookies right now. "Lauren and her mother are in England burying her father!" he yells. Syd just looks at him. "Look," says Vaughn, stepping out onto the edge of that cliff known as About To Fuck Up Hill, "I know things haven't worked out for us the way we'd hoped --" "You think THAT'S why I'm bringing this up?" hisses a rightly indignant Sydney. "Well, honestly, I don't know what to think!" counters Vaughn. Just then, there's a knock at the door. Both Syd and Vaughn ready their guns as Vaughn goes to answer it. And behind the door isum. I really don't know how to say this. It's Moronen. And I just now realized that this new nickname I've so brilliantly coined for Lauren is actually just a variation on "Moronica," so I'd like to take this moment to give a shout-out and thank you to the illustrious Jessica for her genius. Now, when the Alias dolls finally come out on the market, I shall be able to complete my transformation into Regessica, Recapper of All Things Supernatural and Lame.