Title: The Hero Within
Author: Typically Chugging Tea
Description: What if the man who saved you, was the man who was suppose to kill you.
Disclaimer: Characters of Alias are not mine; they belong to J.J. Abrams, Bad Robot and ABC.
Time: Ehh I don't know, sometime in the current time!
His feet pounded against the wet pavement. Rain fell hard against his face as he quickly turned into a dark ally, following a shadowy silhouette of the women he had been chasing for nearly 3 years now. The woman he had secretly admired from afar but could never come to terms to his true feelings.
Sydney.
Even her name screamed sex appeal to him. He had pushed to his feelings aside and focus on his objective. His mission: to Capture Sydney Bristow and bring her to Sloane.
It wasn't as easy as it sounded.
Sydney ran through various doors and halls inside the abandoned building. Her heels killed her feet with every step. She had gotten used to the pain. In her kind of work, you had to. The sequences of the night flashed through her head. She was to steal information from a big drug lord in Havana, Cuba. Everything was going to plan, she flirted with the right guards, received the right information to get past the security. Everything was fine until she saw him.
Sark
She shuttered at his name. They made eye contact, and Sydney had made her way through the crowd and out into the street where the pursuit began. Now it came to this. She was running from him, she hated it yet she panicked. In her business, there was no room for nerves. It was such a foreign feeling to her, panicking. She was usually so well prepared for anything. Only one problem stood in her way.
The dress. It was too tight to squeeze a gun, anywhere. She complained to Kendall but got the same reaction she always got.
"Suck it up, Bristow."
Men. Can't live with them, can't live without them is that age-old motto. Who the hell thought of that?
She turned a corner and ran into a room with no way out. She cursed herself on her bad judgment as she turned around and Sark jogged through the doorway, that unforgettable smirk plastered on his face.
"Well, I must thank you for that lovely midnight jog. I haven't experienced those in quite a few months," he greeted her. She could already tell he was out of breath.
"The pleasure was all mine," she replied, sarcasm scattered in her voice. Her eyes narrowed in on him. He shifted uneasily, undoing his blue tie.
"So, you want to make this easy and just come to me," he said tossing the tie into the corner, "or want the hell beaten out of you."
"I'll take B for 500$ Alex," she muttered before charging at him. She began with a punch towards the head but he narrowly missed it and her fist crashed through the wall. He wrapped his arms around her, pinning her arms to her sides. She lifted her legs and pushed against the wall, sending Sark hurling backwards. He lost his grip and Sydney's elbow made direct contact with his stomach. He hunched over and staggered back a few steps. She swung her foot to make contact his face but was mistaken. He grabbed her foot and twisted into the air. Sending her into a full 360, landing on the floor face down. She coughed and sputtered and made an attempt to get up but Sark had her pinned to the ground. She squirmed as he placed his knee against her folded arms.
"Good luck getting me out of this building," she gasped, his weight crushing her air, "CIA agents will notice my absence and then yo-AHHH!" she yelped as he stuck a needle in her, "What was that."
"Tranquilizer, goodnight sweetheart," he taunted her as he got up. She got up to her feet and tried to charge after him again only to fall unconscious under the strong drug. Sark caught her and laid her carefully on the ground. He reached inside his vest and took out his cell phone. He knelt down beside her as he dialed the familiar phone.
"Sloane," a voice responded on the other line.
"Mission: Deer trap is completed," Sark said, wiping a stray hair out of Sydney's face. He actually quite enjoyed the face that she was unconscious and was unable to throw insults into his face. She actually looked, surprisingly enough, like a sound angel. He couldn't help but allow a smirk to shoot across his face only for it to disappear in a few seconds.
"Good job, Mr. Sark. I'll trace this call and have a team pick her up in a few minuites. I want you to stay by herside the entire time. I can't trust anyone these days." Sloane assigned him and simply clicked off the phone. It was perfessional, he knew. No Good byes. Only 'Good job' or 'Nice work' the normal comments.
As Sark sat down he wondered, how boring it must have been to have a regular job. As Americans say it a 'nine to five.' Poor, stupid commoners. Sark could never understand how people could acaully live like that. 'No wonder the suicide toll was so high' he laughed to himself.
Author: Typically Chugging Tea
Description: What if the man who saved you, was the man who was suppose to kill you.
Disclaimer: Characters of Alias are not mine; they belong to J.J. Abrams, Bad Robot and ABC.
Time: Ehh I don't know, sometime in the current time!
His feet pounded against the wet pavement. Rain fell hard against his face as he quickly turned into a dark ally, following a shadowy silhouette of the women he had been chasing for nearly 3 years now. The woman he had secretly admired from afar but could never come to terms to his true feelings.
Sydney.
Even her name screamed sex appeal to him. He had pushed to his feelings aside and focus on his objective. His mission: to Capture Sydney Bristow and bring her to Sloane.
It wasn't as easy as it sounded.
Sydney ran through various doors and halls inside the abandoned building. Her heels killed her feet with every step. She had gotten used to the pain. In her kind of work, you had to. The sequences of the night flashed through her head. She was to steal information from a big drug lord in Havana, Cuba. Everything was going to plan, she flirted with the right guards, received the right information to get past the security. Everything was fine until she saw him.
Sark
She shuttered at his name. They made eye contact, and Sydney had made her way through the crowd and out into the street where the pursuit began. Now it came to this. She was running from him, she hated it yet she panicked. In her business, there was no room for nerves. It was such a foreign feeling to her, panicking. She was usually so well prepared for anything. Only one problem stood in her way.
The dress. It was too tight to squeeze a gun, anywhere. She complained to Kendall but got the same reaction she always got.
"Suck it up, Bristow."
Men. Can't live with them, can't live without them is that age-old motto. Who the hell thought of that?
She turned a corner and ran into a room with no way out. She cursed herself on her bad judgment as she turned around and Sark jogged through the doorway, that unforgettable smirk plastered on his face.
"Well, I must thank you for that lovely midnight jog. I haven't experienced those in quite a few months," he greeted her. She could already tell he was out of breath.
"The pleasure was all mine," she replied, sarcasm scattered in her voice. Her eyes narrowed in on him. He shifted uneasily, undoing his blue tie.
"So, you want to make this easy and just come to me," he said tossing the tie into the corner, "or want the hell beaten out of you."
"I'll take B for 500$ Alex," she muttered before charging at him. She began with a punch towards the head but he narrowly missed it and her fist crashed through the wall. He wrapped his arms around her, pinning her arms to her sides. She lifted her legs and pushed against the wall, sending Sark hurling backwards. He lost his grip and Sydney's elbow made direct contact with his stomach. He hunched over and staggered back a few steps. She swung her foot to make contact his face but was mistaken. He grabbed her foot and twisted into the air. Sending her into a full 360, landing on the floor face down. She coughed and sputtered and made an attempt to get up but Sark had her pinned to the ground. She squirmed as he placed his knee against her folded arms.
"Good luck getting me out of this building," she gasped, his weight crushing her air, "CIA agents will notice my absence and then yo-AHHH!" she yelped as he stuck a needle in her, "What was that."
"Tranquilizer, goodnight sweetheart," he taunted her as he got up. She got up to her feet and tried to charge after him again only to fall unconscious under the strong drug. Sark caught her and laid her carefully on the ground. He reached inside his vest and took out his cell phone. He knelt down beside her as he dialed the familiar phone.
"Sloane," a voice responded on the other line.
"Mission: Deer trap is completed," Sark said, wiping a stray hair out of Sydney's face. He actually quite enjoyed the face that she was unconscious and was unable to throw insults into his face. She actually looked, surprisingly enough, like a sound angel. He couldn't help but allow a smirk to shoot across his face only for it to disappear in a few seconds.
"Good job, Mr. Sark. I'll trace this call and have a team pick her up in a few minuites. I want you to stay by herside the entire time. I can't trust anyone these days." Sloane assigned him and simply clicked off the phone. It was perfessional, he knew. No Good byes. Only 'Good job' or 'Nice work' the normal comments.
As Sark sat down he wondered, how boring it must have been to have a regular job. As Americans say it a 'nine to five.' Poor, stupid commoners. Sark could never understand how people could acaully live like that. 'No wonder the suicide toll was so high' he laughed to himself.