**Note: I really suck at action. Please forgive me for this hack job.***
Sydney stared straight ahead at the wall, ignoring Agent Carson, much to his frustration. She'd been in custody now for over six hours. Agent Carson hadn't led up on his questions. He had wanted a full disclosure of all the missions she went on that involved Rambaldi artifacts for SD-6. She had asked for legal counsel, instead of answering his questions. When Agent Carson had refused her request, she'd set her jaws mutinously, and refused to answer his questions.
That was almost an hour ago. Agent Carson was increasingly frustrated as time passes on. She wondered bitterly what kind of torture they would resort to in the end. They always did. It didn't matter if they were the good guys or the bad guys. They always inflicted mind-numbing, brain splattering pain to get what they want.
She rolled her eyes slightly to the left, to the clock on the wall. She was due at Credit Dauphine in ten hours. In another ten hours.. her world as she knew it would no longer exists, unless her father had been able to talk to Sloane. She doubted any excuse her father could provide would mollify Sloane. He'd want to talk to her, in person. He was not a patient man, despite his believe.
"Cuff her. She's not going to talk," Carson finally sighed. "Let's see if she's ready to talk in the morning."
The two burly gentlemen with FBI written across the back of their jackets, move to bind her hands. She stood up, and voluntarily offered her hands behind her back. The led her out of the room, past the door, and down a long corridor. When they reached the end, one of the gentlemen pushed a buzzer, indicating to the guard to open the door. He walked in the front, eyes scanning the perimeter, while the other agent led Sydney by the elbow to the parking lot, to an awaiting van.
Sydney tensed hearing a gun cock in the not too distance. So did the agent in the front who promptly pulled out his service revolver. Two figures, dressed in black clothes and ski masks carrying rifles emerged from behind the van.
"Drop your weapon," the burlier of the two figures ordered. The agent ahead looked over his shoulder at his partner before complying.
"You too," the burly figure spoke again, this time to the agent holding Sydney. She felt him tense a second before he dropped his weapon too. She released her breath, realizing that she'd been holding it in.
"Down on the ground," the burly figure ordered again to the two agents, motioning Sydney forward with his weapon. Sydney hesitated, assessing the situation.
Did Sloane send these guys?
The two gunmen walked forward, both kicking the weapons away from the agents. The silent figure reached down to grab the keys to her cuffs. When he found it, he touched Sydney's elbow to guide her gently towards the van.
The gentleness of the action had Sydney looking closely at this silent figure, locking eyes with her captor, and noticing the gentle green eyes behind the horrid mask, begging her silently to comply. Her eyes widened, and she bit her lip, willed herself to move forward.
Oh God, what is he doing?
Everything happened so fast, it was a blur to Sydney. The other figure yelled at the driver to step on it. She was pushed into the van by the burly figure, while Vaughn stood behind her. She noticed one of the agents was off the floor and rushing towards his weapon.
"Look out," she screamed.
Vaughn turned around in time, and held his rifle to block the agent's punch, and return one with the butt of his rifle. He scrambled inside the vehicle, and the van peeled off. A few bullets ricocheted off the side, as the agents attempted to stop the van.
As the van accelerated, twisting and turning, through the parking lot, Sydney lost her balance, slamming into the side. The other masked figure quickly reached over to steady her. Vaughn ripped off the mask, and covered the distance between them, reaching behind her to release her handcuffs. She watched intently as the burly one removed his mask, and was surprised to see her father.
"Dad, what the hell are you doing?" she looked between the two men in her life.
Before anyone can answer, from the front came the order to hold on to something. A second later, the van exploded through the closed gates of the parking lot, screeching on the busy streets.
"Who's driving?" Sydney asked.
"Weiss," came Vaughn's answer.
"Hey Syd," Weiss yelled out from the front.
"Drive to the mines," ordered Vaughn.
"Yeah, everyone sit tight." The van accelerated ahead as Sydney looked through the window panel to see if they've been pursued.
"We should ditch the van," she said.
"Your father already thought of it," Vaughn replied, breathing rapidly.
The Ford Tauras pulled up in front of the brick and wood cottage. The three men and Sydney got out and piled inside. Jack had explained earlier that this was the summer get-away of a friend of his, and that the owners were currently in Europe. Weiss whistled as he walked in. For a summerhouse, the cottage was well furnished and immaculate.
"You look pale," Sydney observed, sitting on the arm of one of the sofas.
"Yeah, I feel little weak. Must be the blood loss in Rome," Vaughn smiled weakly, lowering himself to a sofa with effort.
Jack had noticed that Vaughn was moving stiffly. He'd surmised that the younger man had hurt himself somehow, maybe torn his stitches, but if Vaughn wasn't going to draw attention to his plight, then he wouldn't either.
"I'll see if I can fix some hot food. That'll boost you up," Sydney walked off in the direction of the kitchen, Weiss following behind her.
"Let me look at your bandage," Jack said.
"Not here. Let's do it in the van. Sydney has enough on her mind," Vaughn slowly got up and made his way to the door.
Jack followed, "You should've just driven like we asked you to."
When Sydney came back to the living room, Vaughn was nowhere in sight, and Jack was pouring a shot of brandy. "He's in there," he pointed with his glass, and walked into one of the rooms. A very pale Vaughn lay on the bed. Sydney was amazed when Jack, her father, crossed the room to hand Vaughn the brandy, who gulped it down. Having done his part, Jack left the room.
Sydney walked over with the tray, and put it beside the bed table.
"A soft bed," Vaughn muttered. "And, I can't even move," he smiled ruefully, eliciting a chuckle from Sydney.
Jack came back in the room, with Weiss in tow, and a bag in his hand. "Sydney, I picked up some clothes for you. Why don't you use the other room, and rest up.
"I'll take first watch," Weiss offered.
"What's the plan?" Sydney asked.
"Tomorrow morning, I smuggle you in to Credit Dauphine. You will meet Sloane, while Vaughn and Weiss work on clearing your name," Jack explained.
"That's assuming the Feds don't barge in here and arrest us all," Weiss quipped.
No one in the room was able to laugh at that thought.
Sydney stared straight ahead at the wall, ignoring Agent Carson, much to his frustration. She'd been in custody now for over six hours. Agent Carson hadn't led up on his questions. He had wanted a full disclosure of all the missions she went on that involved Rambaldi artifacts for SD-6. She had asked for legal counsel, instead of answering his questions. When Agent Carson had refused her request, she'd set her jaws mutinously, and refused to answer his questions.
That was almost an hour ago. Agent Carson was increasingly frustrated as time passes on. She wondered bitterly what kind of torture they would resort to in the end. They always did. It didn't matter if they were the good guys or the bad guys. They always inflicted mind-numbing, brain splattering pain to get what they want.
She rolled her eyes slightly to the left, to the clock on the wall. She was due at Credit Dauphine in ten hours. In another ten hours.. her world as she knew it would no longer exists, unless her father had been able to talk to Sloane. She doubted any excuse her father could provide would mollify Sloane. He'd want to talk to her, in person. He was not a patient man, despite his believe.
"Cuff her. She's not going to talk," Carson finally sighed. "Let's see if she's ready to talk in the morning."
The two burly gentlemen with FBI written across the back of their jackets, move to bind her hands. She stood up, and voluntarily offered her hands behind her back. The led her out of the room, past the door, and down a long corridor. When they reached the end, one of the gentlemen pushed a buzzer, indicating to the guard to open the door. He walked in the front, eyes scanning the perimeter, while the other agent led Sydney by the elbow to the parking lot, to an awaiting van.
Sydney tensed hearing a gun cock in the not too distance. So did the agent in the front who promptly pulled out his service revolver. Two figures, dressed in black clothes and ski masks carrying rifles emerged from behind the van.
"Drop your weapon," the burlier of the two figures ordered. The agent ahead looked over his shoulder at his partner before complying.
"You too," the burly figure spoke again, this time to the agent holding Sydney. She felt him tense a second before he dropped his weapon too. She released her breath, realizing that she'd been holding it in.
"Down on the ground," the burly figure ordered again to the two agents, motioning Sydney forward with his weapon. Sydney hesitated, assessing the situation.
Did Sloane send these guys?
The two gunmen walked forward, both kicking the weapons away from the agents. The silent figure reached down to grab the keys to her cuffs. When he found it, he touched Sydney's elbow to guide her gently towards the van.
The gentleness of the action had Sydney looking closely at this silent figure, locking eyes with her captor, and noticing the gentle green eyes behind the horrid mask, begging her silently to comply. Her eyes widened, and she bit her lip, willed herself to move forward.
Oh God, what is he doing?
Everything happened so fast, it was a blur to Sydney. The other figure yelled at the driver to step on it. She was pushed into the van by the burly figure, while Vaughn stood behind her. She noticed one of the agents was off the floor and rushing towards his weapon.
"Look out," she screamed.
Vaughn turned around in time, and held his rifle to block the agent's punch, and return one with the butt of his rifle. He scrambled inside the vehicle, and the van peeled off. A few bullets ricocheted off the side, as the agents attempted to stop the van.
As the van accelerated, twisting and turning, through the parking lot, Sydney lost her balance, slamming into the side. The other masked figure quickly reached over to steady her. Vaughn ripped off the mask, and covered the distance between them, reaching behind her to release her handcuffs. She watched intently as the burly one removed his mask, and was surprised to see her father.
"Dad, what the hell are you doing?" she looked between the two men in her life.
Before anyone can answer, from the front came the order to hold on to something. A second later, the van exploded through the closed gates of the parking lot, screeching on the busy streets.
"Who's driving?" Sydney asked.
"Weiss," came Vaughn's answer.
"Hey Syd," Weiss yelled out from the front.
"Drive to the mines," ordered Vaughn.
"Yeah, everyone sit tight." The van accelerated ahead as Sydney looked through the window panel to see if they've been pursued.
"We should ditch the van," she said.
"Your father already thought of it," Vaughn replied, breathing rapidly.
The Ford Tauras pulled up in front of the brick and wood cottage. The three men and Sydney got out and piled inside. Jack had explained earlier that this was the summer get-away of a friend of his, and that the owners were currently in Europe. Weiss whistled as he walked in. For a summerhouse, the cottage was well furnished and immaculate.
"You look pale," Sydney observed, sitting on the arm of one of the sofas.
"Yeah, I feel little weak. Must be the blood loss in Rome," Vaughn smiled weakly, lowering himself to a sofa with effort.
Jack had noticed that Vaughn was moving stiffly. He'd surmised that the younger man had hurt himself somehow, maybe torn his stitches, but if Vaughn wasn't going to draw attention to his plight, then he wouldn't either.
"I'll see if I can fix some hot food. That'll boost you up," Sydney walked off in the direction of the kitchen, Weiss following behind her.
"Let me look at your bandage," Jack said.
"Not here. Let's do it in the van. Sydney has enough on her mind," Vaughn slowly got up and made his way to the door.
Jack followed, "You should've just driven like we asked you to."
When Sydney came back to the living room, Vaughn was nowhere in sight, and Jack was pouring a shot of brandy. "He's in there," he pointed with his glass, and walked into one of the rooms. A very pale Vaughn lay on the bed. Sydney was amazed when Jack, her father, crossed the room to hand Vaughn the brandy, who gulped it down. Having done his part, Jack left the room.
Sydney walked over with the tray, and put it beside the bed table.
"A soft bed," Vaughn muttered. "And, I can't even move," he smiled ruefully, eliciting a chuckle from Sydney.
Jack came back in the room, with Weiss in tow, and a bag in his hand. "Sydney, I picked up some clothes for you. Why don't you use the other room, and rest up.
"I'll take first watch," Weiss offered.
"What's the plan?" Sydney asked.
"Tomorrow morning, I smuggle you in to Credit Dauphine. You will meet Sloane, while Vaughn and Weiss work on clearing your name," Jack explained.
"That's assuming the Feds don't barge in here and arrest us all," Weiss quipped.
No one in the room was able to laugh at that thought.