(Let me just go ahead and say that this is my first time ever writing
something action-filled. I usually go for the emotional and mind-twisting
without the action. But this time, you'll see it all. This is, in fact, my
first serious Alias fic. So be gentle. Be VERY gentle.)
Prologue: Don't Turn Away
(Los Angeles)
Blood trickled from Mr. Sark's lower lip; he hadn't anticipated a hit so quickly. It was a mistake he surely wouldn't allow to happen again, he noted. Vaughn swung at him again, which he ducked under this time and caught the other man's hand.
"Agent Vaughn, Michael, stop this, please. I didn't come here to fight with you," Sark said, trying to sound sincere but not conveying it so well. This was a man he hardly knew and had plenty of reasons to resent, but he made a promise - one he couldn't break.
Michael Vaughn, however, wasn't in the mood for a patronizing discussion with the man he most wanted to kill at that moment. He used his free arm to grab the other side of Sark's in an attempt to free his restrained arm. Sark naturally resisted; the two men ended up on the ground. Vaughn surprisingly found himself with both arms freed, and Sark flat on his back; this wasn't normal, he thought, was Sark holding back for some reason?
"We have nothing to discuss," Vaughn spat, returning to his feet.
"Then why did you come? You were given a choice," Sark spat back, equally enraged at this point. He too returned to his feet, a little slower though, and began dusting off his suit.
"I - I don't know," Vaughn stated, lowering his eyes to avoid both the sun's and Sark's intimidating glares.
"Did you think I would assume you to be a coward?" Sark inquired; he noticed Vaughn's momentary weakness and took full advantage of the opportunity, "I thought you wanted to be like your father. You shouldn't have come then. You should've remained a coward like him."
"He was not a coward," Vaughn yelled, swinging again for a punch, which Sark quickly stepped back from. Vaughn continued his advance and managed to land a punch in Sark's rib cage.
The younger man nearly found himself on the ground again, but he somehow managed to stay on his feet. If this was any another man, Sark noted to himself, he would kill without hesitation. He wanted to give his thought further contemplation, but his momentary loss of concentration caused Vaughn to land another punch.
To hell with the promise, Sark chided, landing two out of three punches he aimed at Vaughn. They were on the ground again going back-and-forth. But Vaughn, filled with an internal rage he had held back for years, manage to deliver a hit that Sark couldn't respond to so quickly.
Vaughn stood up; ready to walk away, but Sark's laughter drew him back into the violent reality. "Go on then, leave, like a coward, like your father would," Sark hissed, slowly rising to his feet again.
The sound of screeching brakes caught Sark's attention, but not Vaughn's; he was too lost in his whirlwind of emotions. The car door's slam made Sark squint into the sunlight curiously. After a moment, he sighed in both relief and disappointment, "Sydney."
"I got here as soon as I could," Sydney called, running to get to the clearing where Vaughn and Sark stood. Sark watched as she came closer, not noticing what Vaughn was debating. Sydney, however, did notice and ran much faster.
Vaughn turned to face Sark with his gun pointed; he didn't even notice Sydney. All he felt was the blood pumping through his veins and his heart beating faster-and-faster from the anger that seethed inside him.
"Sark!" Sydney screamed as Vaughn pulled the trigger. She leapt, pushing Sark out of harm's way, and taking the bullet in her side.
Prologue: Don't Turn Away
(Los Angeles)
Blood trickled from Mr. Sark's lower lip; he hadn't anticipated a hit so quickly. It was a mistake he surely wouldn't allow to happen again, he noted. Vaughn swung at him again, which he ducked under this time and caught the other man's hand.
"Agent Vaughn, Michael, stop this, please. I didn't come here to fight with you," Sark said, trying to sound sincere but not conveying it so well. This was a man he hardly knew and had plenty of reasons to resent, but he made a promise - one he couldn't break.
Michael Vaughn, however, wasn't in the mood for a patronizing discussion with the man he most wanted to kill at that moment. He used his free arm to grab the other side of Sark's in an attempt to free his restrained arm. Sark naturally resisted; the two men ended up on the ground. Vaughn surprisingly found himself with both arms freed, and Sark flat on his back; this wasn't normal, he thought, was Sark holding back for some reason?
"We have nothing to discuss," Vaughn spat, returning to his feet.
"Then why did you come? You were given a choice," Sark spat back, equally enraged at this point. He too returned to his feet, a little slower though, and began dusting off his suit.
"I - I don't know," Vaughn stated, lowering his eyes to avoid both the sun's and Sark's intimidating glares.
"Did you think I would assume you to be a coward?" Sark inquired; he noticed Vaughn's momentary weakness and took full advantage of the opportunity, "I thought you wanted to be like your father. You shouldn't have come then. You should've remained a coward like him."
"He was not a coward," Vaughn yelled, swinging again for a punch, which Sark quickly stepped back from. Vaughn continued his advance and managed to land a punch in Sark's rib cage.
The younger man nearly found himself on the ground again, but he somehow managed to stay on his feet. If this was any another man, Sark noted to himself, he would kill without hesitation. He wanted to give his thought further contemplation, but his momentary loss of concentration caused Vaughn to land another punch.
To hell with the promise, Sark chided, landing two out of three punches he aimed at Vaughn. They were on the ground again going back-and-forth. But Vaughn, filled with an internal rage he had held back for years, manage to deliver a hit that Sark couldn't respond to so quickly.
Vaughn stood up; ready to walk away, but Sark's laughter drew him back into the violent reality. "Go on then, leave, like a coward, like your father would," Sark hissed, slowly rising to his feet again.
The sound of screeching brakes caught Sark's attention, but not Vaughn's; he was too lost in his whirlwind of emotions. The car door's slam made Sark squint into the sunlight curiously. After a moment, he sighed in both relief and disappointment, "Sydney."
"I got here as soon as I could," Sydney called, running to get to the clearing where Vaughn and Sark stood. Sark watched as she came closer, not noticing what Vaughn was debating. Sydney, however, did notice and ran much faster.
Vaughn turned to face Sark with his gun pointed; he didn't even notice Sydney. All he felt was the blood pumping through his veins and his heart beating faster-and-faster from the anger that seethed inside him.
"Sark!" Sydney screamed as Vaughn pulled the trigger. She leapt, pushing Sark out of harm's way, and taking the bullet in her side.