Later that night, Jack Bristow looked over his shoulder nervously. After a careful moment of studying, he decided that the coast was clear.
In his usual SpyDaddy-ish manner, he cautiously reached over and turned the radio up… just a little. Not enough to wake up everyone who was asleep in back, but just enough so that he could hear it.
And then, he began to sing. Quietly at first, but growing slightly louder with each passing moment.
"I'm like a bird, I'll only fly away… I don't know where my soul is, I don't know where my home is…" A groggy voice interrupted his performance.
"Jack… are you singing Nelly Furtado songs?" Will questioned.
"No."
"Yes you are."
"No, I am not. You're just tired. And if you so much as imply anything of the sort to anyone else at any time…" Will waited for him to finish the statement.
"Well?" Jack glared at him.
"It was an implied threat."
"Oh… right. What, exactly, were you implying?"
"Figure it out yourself. Be creative." Will's face paled- which Jack could, of course, see even in the darkness generally associated with 2 in the morning- and then settled back down to sleep again.
A few hours later… what's that? Uh, no, I guess Jack never sleeps. Why would he? Sleep is just such a silly endeavor. Honestly, I think someone just made it up. Yeah… that's it… sleep is made up, just like the end of a certain other fic which shall remain unmentioned so rin doesn't hurt this here author… anyway, a few hours later, Jack's driving was disturbed by the noise of his beeper going off. The obnoxious noise also woke up everyone else on the little yellow bus, none of whom liked the noise… sorry, just seeing how many times I could use noise in once sentence. Isn't repeating the same word over and over again annoying? It is to me.
Anyway, so the noise woke up everyone, and they didn't like the noise, but Jack finally managed to stop the noise by pushing the 'stop annoying noise' button on his cell phone… or beeper. Well, whatever that device making the noise was, he stopped it. The noise, not the device.
At any rate, everyone tiredly moved to the front of the bus, wondering what message Jack may have received. He closely scrutinized the text- while simultaneously keeping his eyes on the road, because of course Gabs would never advocate any unsafe driving- before finally deciding to read it aloud.
"Well… it's from Kendall…"
"What's it say?" Sydney asked.
"ANNOUNCEMENT: I know I have hidden it well, but I felt it was time to come clean with all of you… the truth is, I'm bald. Thank you for understanding." There was a very long silence.
"Well, that's certainly news to me," Will said. Everyone stared at him, wondering if he was serious. He shrugged.
"I vote for throwing him out of the bus," Sark suggested.
"Well lucky for him, this isn't a democracy," Irina noted.
"No? So what is it?" Vaughn challenged.
"It's a dictatorship… an oligarchy, if you will."
"Do I even need to ask who the dictator is?" Vaughn pondered. Irina stared at him silently.
"Didn't think so." There was another eerie silence, until a familiar Nelly Furtado tune drifted from the radio. Will's face scrunched up as he tried to remember why that should be important. Finally, he slowly turned and looked at Jack, who glared at him. Will quickly turned his face down to stare at his feet, which were much less intimidating. Trying to shake the feeling of Jack glaring at him in the rearview mirror, he began thinking of how things would be different if HE wrote the phone book…
Vaughn and Sark, in the meantime, were rifling through various bags that had been left on the bus, searching for shirts. Tragically, they couldn't find anything that would fit them. Not one. Isn't that just horrible?
While they searched, Sydney gleefully stood at the back of the bus near an open window, releasing various items of clothing into the wind. Somehow, no one noticed. Finally, having emptied the last bag, Vaughn sighed in annoyance. He turned just in time to see a white cloth flutter away in the breeze.
"Syd… what was that?"
"What was what?"
"That."
"What?"
"The thing you just put out the window."
"Oh, that thing? It was… just a thing."
"What kind of thing?"
"Just… you know."
"No, Syd, I don't. Care to fill me in?"
"Um… sure. Sure I do."
"Ok. Have at it.
"Fine Vaughn, I will." There was another long pause.
"Well?"
"Huh? Oh, right. It was… well Vaughn, all it really was… ok, to be truthful, it was the torn and bloody remains of a white flag carried by the noble, sporkerific army of Meesissippi, on a day in which they were brutally slaughtered- a horrible mass murder, it was- and yet refused to give in. That white surrender flag never went up. And their last wish was for it to one day be released from the back of a little yellow bus that was on it's way to Spokane." As Sydney finished her tale, a tear came to her eyes. Vaughn looked at her sympathetically.
"Really? Aww, I'm sorry Syd, I didn't know."
"Most people don't."
"Anything I can do to make it easier?"
"I just need some time to myself."
"No problem." Vaughn quickly herded the suspicious Sark away, while Sydney turned to stare out the window.
"The sporkerific army of Meesissippi?" Irina questioned a moment later. Sydney shrugged.
"Hey, when all else fails…" Irina nodded.
"Quick thinking. For the most part."
"Thanks… I think." Irina smiled and turned to head back to the front of the bus with Jack.
"Very impressive, Miss Bristow. You are quite the charming spy." Sydney grinned proudly, then hurriedly wiped the look away.
"Whatchu talkin' 'bout, Willis?" Sark looked baffled, and quickly ran for protection at the front of the bus. Sighing, Sydney turned and headed up there as well, starting to feel bored by herself.
"So what's next?" Will asked. Irina thought for a moment.
"Jack… stop!" He quickly hit the brakes.
"No, not literally… we're in the middle of a freeway!" He shrugged and hit the gas.
"There's a stop we need to make before we continue on to Spokane."
"What? Where?" Jack questioned, staring at her.
"We need to go to Las Vegas. Immediately."