Alias - Stalking the Truth
by theONLYone -|therealonlyone@yahoo.com|-
(key:) = - scene change, [xy:] - voiceover by xy, /*/*\*\ - flashback, \*\*/*/ - end flashback
=====
"Joey's Pizza. That'll be, $14.38, please."
Sydney gaped as she stared at the pizza delivery boy. "I didn't order any pizza."
"Well, a Mister Tip—oh, shit! They canceled this order at the last minute. Sorry to bother you, ma'am."
"It's okay." She suddenly remembered something. "What's your phone number?" At the risk of sounding to straightforward, she added, "I mean, in case I ever want to order a pizza or something."
The pizza boy handed her a small flyer. "Here. It's at the bottom."
"Thanks."
"Sorry again." As she shut the door, Sydney heard a soft, "She is fine!" She smiled and walked back to the couch.
"Who was it?" Francie asked, looking up from the end credits of the show they had been watching.
"Joey's Pizza."
"Are you serious?"
"Yep. And I got their phone number too; it's nowhere near ours." Upon further examination of the number, she said, "Actually, it's ours but scrambled up."
"What?" Francie stood up. Sydney took a pen from a nearby table and wrote their phone number above the one on the flyer.
"See? If you take every other number from theirs, then the ones that are left, you get our phone number."
"That is way confusing. How did you come up with it like that?" After Sydney grinned, Francie continued: "So the only way you could get the two numbers mixed up is if you did it on purpose, or if you got momentarily confused."
"Right."
Francie sat down heavily, and Sydney looked at her, concerned.
"I just can't get over it. What if someone's stalking us or something?"
"That's ridiculous. Who would stalk us?" She smiled, though the possibility had raced through her mind. Francie grinned back.
"You're right. Let's see what's on TV next."
/*/*\*\
Tileto, Angora: Horatio Gælgoa's estate—
"I've got a shadow," Sydney said breathlessly, running more rapidly and in different directions to confuse her follower.
"Keep running! I don't have you on radar anymore but give me a minute and I pull out a vehicle northeast—" Dixon's voice started shaking until the static covered him up completely. Sydney chucked the earpiece far to her right.
"Good; he lost your signal. Head west-northwest. The shadow is a federal motocrosser who'll do a roundabout to get to you."
"The feds have motocrossers?"
"He's in the witness protection program, wanted to do something to thank the Bureau."
Sydney wondered why a biker would need protection as she glanced at her mini-GPS and turned to her left. She knew SD-6 would have no idea where she went until she mysteriously appeared at a rendezvous point. A web of lies developed in her mind. A guard had found her and held her hostage until early in the morning, when he dozed off for a few minutes and she cut herself out of the ropes tying her to a chair. They wouldn't be able to trace the guard because he was...
A small noise came up from behind her, growing louder and louder and showering light around her. Sydney put her story aside for the moment; threw out her hands at the right moment and caught on to the rider, swinging herself on and saying to Vaughn, "I'm on."
"Okay. Tell him to follow path X-T-4-5. Dixon is hot on your trail."
"X-T-4-5." She could feel him give a slight nod as they continued on their ride. The wind rushed past them and Sydney closed her eyes for just a moment. "I like it better when the shadows are known," she whispered suddenly, more to herself than her earpiece.
"Me too," the voice on the other side replied.
\*\*/*/
It wasn't a stalker, Sydney suddenly realized, but it was someone. They were checking up on her, making sure she didn't leave in the middle of the night. There were people too numerous to count who wanted her. She knew why. But the Joey's Pizza call came just every so often; was it an outsider or — was it CIA or SD-6?
=====
Vaughn and Charlie both showed up at the door a matter of minutes later, both dressed in suits. The men had already decided to take Charlie's Civic since Vaughn drove a Porsche ("It's old and has been in the family." From looking at it, Sydney couldn't tell it was any older than the twenty-first century.). Everyone piled in, Francie and Sydney in back, Vaughn and Charlie in the front. It was only a short drive to the restaurant, whose guests seemed dressed very formally for a pizza parlor. Sydney was glad all four of them had dressed up.
During the car ride, Sydney had heard an almost prophetic song. The chorus repeated in her head for quite a while later, when she had finally figured out the words (it was hip-hop/rap, where the words come out much quicker than her usual choice of classical or contemporary).
It seemed odd at first. A singer singing about having a split personality. It was just like Sydney felt. For the first time, a few weeks earlier, she had thought those same words. Her body had been following through in what she was doing day after day, but her mind seemed somewhere else. What if it didn't have to be that way? If only she could stop it all...
She wondered what would happen if she stopped reporting to SD-6; maybe even Vaughn and the rest of the CIA. She could follow through with school every day, live more like an average collegate. Her mind then rationalized everything, and she decided that she could live with being a double agent. Split personality or not, she needed to keep her head in the game. She loved the thrill of the hunt—and the adrenaline of the chase. Her prowess was always going to be a part of her.
Sydney suddenly remembered where she was (the wafting smell of a deep dish Chicago-style pizza helped) and placed her eyes on Vaughn's profile, thinking of nowhere else to put them. He looked at her for a moment a few seconds later—how he had noticed her watching him was beyond Sydney—and continued her conversation with Charlie.
[Sydney: At first, I didn't want anything to do with Vaughn—especially if it concerned doing something with my friends. The night's been going pretty okay, though. I mean, aside from realizing Vaughn has an ESP sort of thing when I look at him, everything has been normal. 'Normal' meaning not out of the ordinary, no embarassing questions from Francie (where they all seem to come from). Although, I do have to remember to call Vaughn 'Michael'; it's become too much of a habit, or an instinct almost. Who else's voice would suddenly appear in my ear when I didn't even know my earrings had been bugged? Where did I get those earrings, now that's a more legit question.
It's so exciting just to be in this restaurant. It's not opening day, but the day after. A lot more civillians are here now, and the sight of a pizza being carried past with candles still makes me want to laugh, even after it has happened at least three times.]
The guys ordered—without consulting Sydney or Francie, but Sydney figured she would like whatever they ordered (exotic food was now part of her taste). As she sat at their table, waiting for their pizza pie, Sydney seemed in a trancelike stance. Francie, worried for her friend, said, "I'll be right back." She looked at Sydney pointedly, and Sydney added an, "I'll come with."
"What's up?" Francie asked once they were out of the guys' eyesight. "You're looking all weird-like. Are you okay?"
"Oh, yeah," Sydney replied, realizing that her musing had worried Francie. "I think I need a drink though," she added, "something to settle my stomach."
"Do you need something? I have Advil; the peppermint coated kind. Or I can get you a mudslide. Unless—in my pur—"
Sydney smiled, hoping to relax her tense friend. "No thanks, Fran. I just need a Shirley Temple; something light and caffeineted."
"Okay." They headed back to their table.
a/n review and gimme ideas. Angora is my kind of action scene, hint hint. oh, and was it just me or did the end of The Prophecy (3/3) thoroughly freak you out too? jw. out here waiting for some more s/v moments: tOo
by theONLYone -|therealonlyone@yahoo.com|-
(key:) = - scene change, [xy:] - voiceover by xy, /*/*\*\ - flashback, \*\*/*/ - end flashback
=====
"Joey's Pizza. That'll be, $14.38, please."
Sydney gaped as she stared at the pizza delivery boy. "I didn't order any pizza."
"Well, a Mister Tip—oh, shit! They canceled this order at the last minute. Sorry to bother you, ma'am."
"It's okay." She suddenly remembered something. "What's your phone number?" At the risk of sounding to straightforward, she added, "I mean, in case I ever want to order a pizza or something."
The pizza boy handed her a small flyer. "Here. It's at the bottom."
"Thanks."
"Sorry again." As she shut the door, Sydney heard a soft, "She is fine!" She smiled and walked back to the couch.
"Who was it?" Francie asked, looking up from the end credits of the show they had been watching.
"Joey's Pizza."
"Are you serious?"
"Yep. And I got their phone number too; it's nowhere near ours." Upon further examination of the number, she said, "Actually, it's ours but scrambled up."
"What?" Francie stood up. Sydney took a pen from a nearby table and wrote their phone number above the one on the flyer.
"See? If you take every other number from theirs, then the ones that are left, you get our phone number."
"That is way confusing. How did you come up with it like that?" After Sydney grinned, Francie continued: "So the only way you could get the two numbers mixed up is if you did it on purpose, or if you got momentarily confused."
"Right."
Francie sat down heavily, and Sydney looked at her, concerned.
"I just can't get over it. What if someone's stalking us or something?"
"That's ridiculous. Who would stalk us?" She smiled, though the possibility had raced through her mind. Francie grinned back.
"You're right. Let's see what's on TV next."
/*/*\*\
Tileto, Angora: Horatio Gælgoa's estate—
"I've got a shadow," Sydney said breathlessly, running more rapidly and in different directions to confuse her follower.
"Keep running! I don't have you on radar anymore but give me a minute and I pull out a vehicle northeast—" Dixon's voice started shaking until the static covered him up completely. Sydney chucked the earpiece far to her right.
"Good; he lost your signal. Head west-northwest. The shadow is a federal motocrosser who'll do a roundabout to get to you."
"The feds have motocrossers?"
"He's in the witness protection program, wanted to do something to thank the Bureau."
Sydney wondered why a biker would need protection as she glanced at her mini-GPS and turned to her left. She knew SD-6 would have no idea where she went until she mysteriously appeared at a rendezvous point. A web of lies developed in her mind. A guard had found her and held her hostage until early in the morning, when he dozed off for a few minutes and she cut herself out of the ropes tying her to a chair. They wouldn't be able to trace the guard because he was...
A small noise came up from behind her, growing louder and louder and showering light around her. Sydney put her story aside for the moment; threw out her hands at the right moment and caught on to the rider, swinging herself on and saying to Vaughn, "I'm on."
"Okay. Tell him to follow path X-T-4-5. Dixon is hot on your trail."
"X-T-4-5." She could feel him give a slight nod as they continued on their ride. The wind rushed past them and Sydney closed her eyes for just a moment. "I like it better when the shadows are known," she whispered suddenly, more to herself than her earpiece.
"Me too," the voice on the other side replied.
\*\*/*/
It wasn't a stalker, Sydney suddenly realized, but it was someone. They were checking up on her, making sure she didn't leave in the middle of the night. There were people too numerous to count who wanted her. She knew why. But the Joey's Pizza call came just every so often; was it an outsider or — was it CIA or SD-6?
=====
Vaughn and Charlie both showed up at the door a matter of minutes later, both dressed in suits. The men had already decided to take Charlie's Civic since Vaughn drove a Porsche ("It's old and has been in the family." From looking at it, Sydney couldn't tell it was any older than the twenty-first century.). Everyone piled in, Francie and Sydney in back, Vaughn and Charlie in the front. It was only a short drive to the restaurant, whose guests seemed dressed very formally for a pizza parlor. Sydney was glad all four of them had dressed up.
During the car ride, Sydney had heard an almost prophetic song. The chorus repeated in her head for quite a while later, when she had finally figured out the words (it was hip-hop/rap, where the words come out much quicker than her usual choice of classical or contemporary).
It seemed odd at first. A singer singing about having a split personality. It was just like Sydney felt. For the first time, a few weeks earlier, she had thought those same words. Her body had been following through in what she was doing day after day, but her mind seemed somewhere else. What if it didn't have to be that way? If only she could stop it all...
She wondered what would happen if she stopped reporting to SD-6; maybe even Vaughn and the rest of the CIA. She could follow through with school every day, live more like an average collegate. Her mind then rationalized everything, and she decided that she could live with being a double agent. Split personality or not, she needed to keep her head in the game. She loved the thrill of the hunt—and the adrenaline of the chase. Her prowess was always going to be a part of her.
Sydney suddenly remembered where she was (the wafting smell of a deep dish Chicago-style pizza helped) and placed her eyes on Vaughn's profile, thinking of nowhere else to put them. He looked at her for a moment a few seconds later—how he had noticed her watching him was beyond Sydney—and continued her conversation with Charlie.
[Sydney: At first, I didn't want anything to do with Vaughn—especially if it concerned doing something with my friends. The night's been going pretty okay, though. I mean, aside from realizing Vaughn has an ESP sort of thing when I look at him, everything has been normal. 'Normal' meaning not out of the ordinary, no embarassing questions from Francie (where they all seem to come from). Although, I do have to remember to call Vaughn 'Michael'; it's become too much of a habit, or an instinct almost. Who else's voice would suddenly appear in my ear when I didn't even know my earrings had been bugged? Where did I get those earrings, now that's a more legit question.
It's so exciting just to be in this restaurant. It's not opening day, but the day after. A lot more civillians are here now, and the sight of a pizza being carried past with candles still makes me want to laugh, even after it has happened at least three times.]
The guys ordered—without consulting Sydney or Francie, but Sydney figured she would like whatever they ordered (exotic food was now part of her taste). As she sat at their table, waiting for their pizza pie, Sydney seemed in a trancelike stance. Francie, worried for her friend, said, "I'll be right back." She looked at Sydney pointedly, and Sydney added an, "I'll come with."
"What's up?" Francie asked once they were out of the guys' eyesight. "You're looking all weird-like. Are you okay?"
"Oh, yeah," Sydney replied, realizing that her musing had worried Francie. "I think I need a drink though," she added, "something to settle my stomach."
"Do you need something? I have Advil; the peppermint coated kind. Or I can get you a mudslide. Unless—in my pur—"
Sydney smiled, hoping to relax her tense friend. "No thanks, Fran. I just need a Shirley Temple; something light and caffeineted."
"Okay." They headed back to their table.
a/n review and gimme ideas. Angora is my kind of action scene, hint hint. oh, and was it just me or did the end of The Prophecy (3/3) thoroughly freak you out too? jw. out here waiting for some more s/v moments: tOo