Sydney straightened slowly, raising her hands in the air as she did so.
Turning to face her opposer, she breathed a silent sigh of relief when she
saw that it was the woman who owned the house, and not a rival spy. The
woman, wearing a bathrobe and curlers in her hair, was clutching a gun in
her trembling hands.
"I said, who are you, and why are you here?" the woman repeated.
"I'm sorry," Sydney said quietly, moved slightly closer. The woman immediately tightened her grip on the gun.
"Don't move!" she ordered. Sydney nodded.
"I'm sorry, it's just, uh, I, uh, I – oh, hell," she said, giving up on trying to find an excuse for her presence. She grabbed a large, hardcover textbook from the desk and whipped it at the woman, knocking the gun aside and giving herself enough time to cross the room and reach the woman. She kicked the gun out of her hand, and with a few simple moves had the woman sitting on the ground, Sydney in control of the gun. She looked around for something to tie the woman up with, and spotted a scarf crumpled on a chair. She picked it up and quickly tied the woman's hands behind her back.
"Uh, I'm sorry I had to do this. So…yeah. Bye," Sydney grabbed her bag, which had fallen to the ground as she fought the woman, and ran out the door. Closing the back door of the house quietly, she headed around the side. Suddenly, she heard a cold, amused voice purr behind her,
"Sydney, so nice to see you. Thanks for doing all of the hard work for me. I'll take the journal now, though." Sydney froze and spun around. Anna Espinosa was leaning casually against the wall of the house, wearing her trademark smirk. She started slowly for Sydney.
"Really, I must insist that you give it to me." Sydney glanced to her right; she could see the silhouette of Dixon's van mere yards away. She backed up slowly. She was never one to run from a fight, but she knew her entire life depended on this journal. She continued to back up slowly, Anna following her measured steps with corresponding ones of her own.
"Really, darling, you're not running from me – you're a fighter.You're not trying to escape to that lovely white van out in front, are you? Because that won't work, dear. We've already taken care of your partner. It's just you, now. So will you be a good girl and hand over the journal?" Sydney swore under her breath. If they had gotten to Dixon, she would have no way out. Making a split-second decision, she dropped the bag and launched herself at Anna. She saw Anna's pearly white smile a second before she punched her as hard as she could, a right hook she had been working on improving for months. Anna grunted with the impact, momentarily knocked off balance. Sydney followed with a swift side-kick, then whipped herself around and kicked again, sweeping Anna's feet out from under her. Looking around in the few seconds Anna's fall gave her, she spied a large rock in the garden next to the house. She lunged for it, diving and rolling, rebounding quickly with the rock in her hand, and straightened just in time to receive Anna's punch. Her head whipped back, and she almost lost the rock. Regaining her balance, she high-kicked, trying to knock Anna down again. But Anna wouldn't fall for the same trick twice. She dodged the kick and came at Sydney, who ducked and swung with the rock. She felt it connect with Anna's head, a solid thud that ensured Anna wouldn't be bugging her for awhile now. Anna slumped to the ground, and Sydney waited a moment to make sure she was really out, then grabbed her bag. Feeling for the journal, she breathed a sigh of relief when she touched its soft cover. Straightening, she glanced around, searching for any movement in the gray, dusky dawn light. Seeing nothing, she moved carefully forward to the van. Peering inside, she saw that it was empty of everything but seats.
"Shit," she swore quietly. Where the hell could he have gone? Or rather, where had he been taken? She looked around, and still saw nothing, but she decided to get out of the way anyway. She turned, her back against the van, and looked around again, more carefully. Still seeing nothing, she started to inch to the side when she heard a gunshot and saw a hole appear in the van next to her. Looking forward again, she saw three men with guns running towards her. She spun and ran, legs and arms pumping, as bullets began to fly around her. She took the corner of the street at breakneck speed, searching desperately for somewhere to hide. Turning onto another side street, she saw a place. Pushing herself to go faster, she dove into a small alleyway and shouldered her way through the door of an abandoned building. She slammed it behind her and thudded back against the wall to the side of the door, gasping for breath as she waited to see if she had been followed. When several minutes had passed, she took a deep breath and looked around the room. It was dusty and bare, with one doorway. She headed for it, and found herself in another room like the first. Deciding she would find nothing better, she crossed the room, sat, and went through her bag. Finally, she found her CIA communicator, and opened it.
"Vaughn!" she whispered urgently. An answer came back immediately.
"Sydney? What happened? What's wrong?"
"I don't know what happened…I got the journal, but ran into Anna Espinosa. I took care of her, but there were some other men with guns who are after me. They took Dixon…I don't know where he is. I'm sitting in some kind of abandoned building, I don't know where. You have to get me out!"
"Okay. Hold on, we're getting your position." Sydney sat back, relaxing just slightly.
"Got it. We'll have a team in there in two hours to get you out – that's the quickest we can do." Sydney breathed a sigh of relief.
"Thank God – just as long as you get me out of here."
"Be careful, okay? Stay put, don't attract any attention by going close to a window, and don't leave the building." Sydney laughed quietly.
"Vaughn, I'm a spy. I know these things, okay?" She heard him chuckle.
"Yeah, yeah, I know. Just – I'll see you soon, okay?"
"Yeah," she mumbled, her throat closing up suddenly. She shook her head to try and clear it.
"Soon." She clicked off the communicator and shoved it back in the bag. She stretched her arms over her head, and winced as she felt a piercing pain in her side. Looking down, she down a stain on her shirt, next to her stomach.
"Huh?" she murmured, lifting up her shirt. Her face drained as she reached shaking fingers down to touch her skin.
"Oh my God," she whispered, as she touched her wound and her fingers became slippery with blood. She must have been hit before she had turned and ran, but how had she not noticed?
"I must have been too intent on escaping…" she mumbled. She took off her shirt and bunched against the wound, holding it tightly. It quickly became soaked, and she began to realized how serious the wound was. Grabbing the communicator, she flicked it back on.
"Vaughn," she whispered. A few minutes passed before he responded.
"Syd? What's wrong?"
"Vaughn…I was shot. I don't think I'll last two hours."
"I said, who are you, and why are you here?" the woman repeated.
"I'm sorry," Sydney said quietly, moved slightly closer. The woman immediately tightened her grip on the gun.
"Don't move!" she ordered. Sydney nodded.
"I'm sorry, it's just, uh, I, uh, I – oh, hell," she said, giving up on trying to find an excuse for her presence. She grabbed a large, hardcover textbook from the desk and whipped it at the woman, knocking the gun aside and giving herself enough time to cross the room and reach the woman. She kicked the gun out of her hand, and with a few simple moves had the woman sitting on the ground, Sydney in control of the gun. She looked around for something to tie the woman up with, and spotted a scarf crumpled on a chair. She picked it up and quickly tied the woman's hands behind her back.
"Uh, I'm sorry I had to do this. So…yeah. Bye," Sydney grabbed her bag, which had fallen to the ground as she fought the woman, and ran out the door. Closing the back door of the house quietly, she headed around the side. Suddenly, she heard a cold, amused voice purr behind her,
"Sydney, so nice to see you. Thanks for doing all of the hard work for me. I'll take the journal now, though." Sydney froze and spun around. Anna Espinosa was leaning casually against the wall of the house, wearing her trademark smirk. She started slowly for Sydney.
"Really, I must insist that you give it to me." Sydney glanced to her right; she could see the silhouette of Dixon's van mere yards away. She backed up slowly. She was never one to run from a fight, but she knew her entire life depended on this journal. She continued to back up slowly, Anna following her measured steps with corresponding ones of her own.
"Really, darling, you're not running from me – you're a fighter.You're not trying to escape to that lovely white van out in front, are you? Because that won't work, dear. We've already taken care of your partner. It's just you, now. So will you be a good girl and hand over the journal?" Sydney swore under her breath. If they had gotten to Dixon, she would have no way out. Making a split-second decision, she dropped the bag and launched herself at Anna. She saw Anna's pearly white smile a second before she punched her as hard as she could, a right hook she had been working on improving for months. Anna grunted with the impact, momentarily knocked off balance. Sydney followed with a swift side-kick, then whipped herself around and kicked again, sweeping Anna's feet out from under her. Looking around in the few seconds Anna's fall gave her, she spied a large rock in the garden next to the house. She lunged for it, diving and rolling, rebounding quickly with the rock in her hand, and straightened just in time to receive Anna's punch. Her head whipped back, and she almost lost the rock. Regaining her balance, she high-kicked, trying to knock Anna down again. But Anna wouldn't fall for the same trick twice. She dodged the kick and came at Sydney, who ducked and swung with the rock. She felt it connect with Anna's head, a solid thud that ensured Anna wouldn't be bugging her for awhile now. Anna slumped to the ground, and Sydney waited a moment to make sure she was really out, then grabbed her bag. Feeling for the journal, she breathed a sigh of relief when she touched its soft cover. Straightening, she glanced around, searching for any movement in the gray, dusky dawn light. Seeing nothing, she moved carefully forward to the van. Peering inside, she saw that it was empty of everything but seats.
"Shit," she swore quietly. Where the hell could he have gone? Or rather, where had he been taken? She looked around, and still saw nothing, but she decided to get out of the way anyway. She turned, her back against the van, and looked around again, more carefully. Still seeing nothing, she started to inch to the side when she heard a gunshot and saw a hole appear in the van next to her. Looking forward again, she saw three men with guns running towards her. She spun and ran, legs and arms pumping, as bullets began to fly around her. She took the corner of the street at breakneck speed, searching desperately for somewhere to hide. Turning onto another side street, she saw a place. Pushing herself to go faster, she dove into a small alleyway and shouldered her way through the door of an abandoned building. She slammed it behind her and thudded back against the wall to the side of the door, gasping for breath as she waited to see if she had been followed. When several minutes had passed, she took a deep breath and looked around the room. It was dusty and bare, with one doorway. She headed for it, and found herself in another room like the first. Deciding she would find nothing better, she crossed the room, sat, and went through her bag. Finally, she found her CIA communicator, and opened it.
"Vaughn!" she whispered urgently. An answer came back immediately.
"Sydney? What happened? What's wrong?"
"I don't know what happened…I got the journal, but ran into Anna Espinosa. I took care of her, but there were some other men with guns who are after me. They took Dixon…I don't know where he is. I'm sitting in some kind of abandoned building, I don't know where. You have to get me out!"
"Okay. Hold on, we're getting your position." Sydney sat back, relaxing just slightly.
"Got it. We'll have a team in there in two hours to get you out – that's the quickest we can do." Sydney breathed a sigh of relief.
"Thank God – just as long as you get me out of here."
"Be careful, okay? Stay put, don't attract any attention by going close to a window, and don't leave the building." Sydney laughed quietly.
"Vaughn, I'm a spy. I know these things, okay?" She heard him chuckle.
"Yeah, yeah, I know. Just – I'll see you soon, okay?"
"Yeah," she mumbled, her throat closing up suddenly. She shook her head to try and clear it.
"Soon." She clicked off the communicator and shoved it back in the bag. She stretched her arms over her head, and winced as she felt a piercing pain in her side. Looking down, she down a stain on her shirt, next to her stomach.
"Huh?" she murmured, lifting up her shirt. Her face drained as she reached shaking fingers down to touch her skin.
"Oh my God," she whispered, as she touched her wound and her fingers became slippery with blood. She must have been hit before she had turned and ran, but how had she not noticed?
"I must have been too intent on escaping…" she mumbled. She took off her shirt and bunched against the wound, holding it tightly. It quickly became soaked, and she began to realized how serious the wound was. Grabbing the communicator, she flicked it back on.
"Vaughn," she whispered. A few minutes passed before he responded.
"Syd? What's wrong?"
"Vaughn…I was shot. I don't think I'll last two hours."