Note- this chapter changes POV a bit. I apologize if that bothers you.
Surprise
(Two Weeks Ago)
The last thing Sark expected was to run into Sydney Bristow fifteen miles south of Jakarta. He had acquired information about Rambaldi papers hidden beneath the floors in the basement of the building he was now in. This was not their original location, they had been moved some time ago, but there were only two other men who knew about the move. One had given him the location and the other was dead.
Apparently, this information was not only sold to him. Sark needed the pages to make the exchange with Sloane, who knew nothing of their whereabouts. That meant that Sydney must be on a mission for the CIA. Sark could not let her deliver the pages to them. It would ruin everything.
Sydney was clearly out for blood the moment she saw Sark in that large basement. She had not cooled since they're last encounter. No, she had only grown more determined to take him out. Sark could see a wild look in her eyes that he liked, though he wished it were for some other reason than to kill him.
"Sark," Sydney said, her eyes narrowed in hatred.
"Agent Bristow."
There was no further exchange of words as they began fighting immediately.
Sark was taken by surprise. Sydney was fast, and she was angry, making her stronger.
"Your combat skills have improved since we last met." He managed to get out between blows.
"I've been practicing." She retorted and caught him with a kick in his side. Sark didn't want to hurt her, but it couldn't be helped. She was too good to play only defense this time.
It was the hottest night Sydney could remember in a long time, especially in the stuffy basement. They were both sweaty in seconds. Sark noticed Sydney still wore a small bandage on her right arm from the bullet wound in Budapest. The fight was only a few minutes, but it was one of the longest hand-to-hand matches Sydney had ever had. She usually took out her opponents in less than a minute. It felt even longer, as the time was marked by new bruises and pain. Sark, for his part, really didn't want to injure Sydney, but he had to admit he felt a certain excitement from the struggle. Sydney was good. It was only two weeks before he had fought with her and while she had talent, she lacked the edge, the fire he had. Not anymore.
Another kick sent him back a few steps. Sydney reached around and produced a gun from her back. Sark was surprised again. Why didn't she pull it earlier? He wondered.
Before Sydney could get off a shot, Sark kicked the gun from her hands, to the wall. Sydney dove for the gun, and Sark dove for Sydney.
She didn't reach the gun, it lay past a loose grid of metal pipes about a foot from the wall, but Sark reached Sydney. She let out a grunt as his body struck hers. He straddled her back and grabbed her arms in one fluid motion. His grip was strong and there was little Sydney could do on her belly, with Sark on top.
He took out a pair of handcuffs from somewhere, Sydney could not see, and cuffed her hands to a cross section of the pipes. He raised himself off her and she immediately brought herself as up as high as she could, which was only to her knees.
"Sark let me go!" She yelled, even though she knew it wasn't going to do any good. She was so angry she continued to struggle in vain, until she saw Sark pick up the gun.
Sydney froze. Sark could see that she thought he was going to shoot her and he let out a low laugh.
"I haven't killed you yet, what makes you think I'm going to now?" He asked.
"How should I know your intentions? You seem to take pleasure in being cruel to me." She answered honestly.
She looked so sexy there, in her tight black pants and tank top. She was breathing heavy and her body was wet with perspiration. Not to mention she was handcuffed to the wall. Sark could not resist.
He leaned in close to her. "Sydney," he said, as he ran a finger under her tank top, down her lower back and into the top of her pants, "I think I could take pleasure in being a lot of things to you."
Sydney found herself excited by his words, then angry at herself for feeling that way. The next moment, however, she was afraid again, as she felt the cool tip of the gun against her back, tracing the line his finger just made. Sydney swallowed. Sark lifted the waistband of her pants again, and slid the weapon back into it's original location.
He stood abruptly. "You can't have the Rambaldi papers, Ms. Bristow, and I can't have you following me. I'm sure you're back up will be here shortly. Why don't you just relax for a while?"
He turned and walked out of the room smiling, with a final glance at the handcuffed Ms. Bristow.
Sydney, once so calm and controlled, was left hot with frustration, shouting a string of curses after him.
Surprise
(Two Weeks Ago)
The last thing Sark expected was to run into Sydney Bristow fifteen miles south of Jakarta. He had acquired information about Rambaldi papers hidden beneath the floors in the basement of the building he was now in. This was not their original location, they had been moved some time ago, but there were only two other men who knew about the move. One had given him the location and the other was dead.
Apparently, this information was not only sold to him. Sark needed the pages to make the exchange with Sloane, who knew nothing of their whereabouts. That meant that Sydney must be on a mission for the CIA. Sark could not let her deliver the pages to them. It would ruin everything.
Sydney was clearly out for blood the moment she saw Sark in that large basement. She had not cooled since they're last encounter. No, she had only grown more determined to take him out. Sark could see a wild look in her eyes that he liked, though he wished it were for some other reason than to kill him.
"Sark," Sydney said, her eyes narrowed in hatred.
"Agent Bristow."
There was no further exchange of words as they began fighting immediately.
Sark was taken by surprise. Sydney was fast, and she was angry, making her stronger.
"Your combat skills have improved since we last met." He managed to get out between blows.
"I've been practicing." She retorted and caught him with a kick in his side. Sark didn't want to hurt her, but it couldn't be helped. She was too good to play only defense this time.
It was the hottest night Sydney could remember in a long time, especially in the stuffy basement. They were both sweaty in seconds. Sark noticed Sydney still wore a small bandage on her right arm from the bullet wound in Budapest. The fight was only a few minutes, but it was one of the longest hand-to-hand matches Sydney had ever had. She usually took out her opponents in less than a minute. It felt even longer, as the time was marked by new bruises and pain. Sark, for his part, really didn't want to injure Sydney, but he had to admit he felt a certain excitement from the struggle. Sydney was good. It was only two weeks before he had fought with her and while she had talent, she lacked the edge, the fire he had. Not anymore.
Another kick sent him back a few steps. Sydney reached around and produced a gun from her back. Sark was surprised again. Why didn't she pull it earlier? He wondered.
Before Sydney could get off a shot, Sark kicked the gun from her hands, to the wall. Sydney dove for the gun, and Sark dove for Sydney.
She didn't reach the gun, it lay past a loose grid of metal pipes about a foot from the wall, but Sark reached Sydney. She let out a grunt as his body struck hers. He straddled her back and grabbed her arms in one fluid motion. His grip was strong and there was little Sydney could do on her belly, with Sark on top.
He took out a pair of handcuffs from somewhere, Sydney could not see, and cuffed her hands to a cross section of the pipes. He raised himself off her and she immediately brought herself as up as high as she could, which was only to her knees.
"Sark let me go!" She yelled, even though she knew it wasn't going to do any good. She was so angry she continued to struggle in vain, until she saw Sark pick up the gun.
Sydney froze. Sark could see that she thought he was going to shoot her and he let out a low laugh.
"I haven't killed you yet, what makes you think I'm going to now?" He asked.
"How should I know your intentions? You seem to take pleasure in being cruel to me." She answered honestly.
She looked so sexy there, in her tight black pants and tank top. She was breathing heavy and her body was wet with perspiration. Not to mention she was handcuffed to the wall. Sark could not resist.
He leaned in close to her. "Sydney," he said, as he ran a finger under her tank top, down her lower back and into the top of her pants, "I think I could take pleasure in being a lot of things to you."
Sydney found herself excited by his words, then angry at herself for feeling that way. The next moment, however, she was afraid again, as she felt the cool tip of the gun against her back, tracing the line his finger just made. Sydney swallowed. Sark lifted the waistband of her pants again, and slid the weapon back into it's original location.
He stood abruptly. "You can't have the Rambaldi papers, Ms. Bristow, and I can't have you following me. I'm sure you're back up will be here shortly. Why don't you just relax for a while?"
He turned and walked out of the room smiling, with a final glance at the handcuffed Ms. Bristow.
Sydney, once so calm and controlled, was left hot with frustration, shouting a string of curses after him.