"Las Vegas??" Jack questioned shrilly. Irina nodded.
"Yes. It is the only answer."
"Obviously," Jack sighed. He quickly changed lanes without signaling, and soon they were headed towards Las Vegas.
"Just what are we doing in Vegas?" Vaughn asked.
"I have a contact there. He'll be helping us out with something." No matter how much anyone else begged or pleaded, Irina would say no more. Sooner or later, the group had made their way into Las Vegas, garnering a number of odd looks, likely for their method of transportation.
Or their strange lack of shirts. One couldn't be quite sure about these things.
At any rate, they arrived in Las Vegas, and Irina directed Jack to the Excalibur. As they pulled up, a shady little short man approached, carrying a large blue duffel bag.
"That's him," Irina noted.
"We're supposed to trust him?" Vaughn said dubiously.
"He does what he does for love of country. We just don't know which one," Irina replied. Jack gave her an odd look, but opened to door of the little yellow bus, granting him entrance.
"Hello… my name is Achilles Haascopelandsporkmeese. But you may call me Achilles." Everyone stared at him.
"Do you have the disguises?" Irina questioned.
"Of course," Achilles replied solemnly. He held up his small black duffel bag and began searching through it. Eventually, he pulled something out and tossed it towards Jack, who caught it with ease, because he's Jack. After a moment of inspection, it was revealed to be Bill the Butcher. Jack raised his eyebrows, and Achilles shrugged.
He then turned to Vaughn, gave him an appraising look, and quickly dug out something for him. As he opened it up, the color drained from Vaughn's face.
"You can't be serious…" Achilles only nodded. Vaughn sighed deeply, and proceeded to show everyone the Roman gladiator disguise he had been assigned. Sark was trying- and failing miserably- to conceal his laughter, until his own package came flying. He ripped it open secretively, and almost passed out when he realized what it contained.
"I am not going to wear… that," he gritted out.
"Whatever it is, yes you will," Irina replied. Sark glared at her, before sighing in resignation.
"Don't suppose I can trade it in?" he attempted halfheartedly.
"Negative." Sark sighed again and pulled it out for everyone to see. When he did so, Sydney's jaw dropped.
"An ANGEL?" she gasped. Sark glared at her, but couldn't dissuade her burst of laughter.
"So apropos," Jack noted dryly. Sark turned his dour glare on him, but again had no affect. A few minutes later, Sydney finally had her laughter under control, and turned to face Achilles again. He had the same serious look on his face that he'd had from the beginning. He quickly handed her a package, and she looked around nervously. Sark was practically pouting in a corner, while Jack tried out his Bill the Butcher mustache. Vaughn was looking at his shiny plastic gladiator shield with fierce intrepidation.
"Syd?" Will spoke up. She glanced to him, then tore into her package. A moment later, her worst fears were realized…
"I'm a stripper??" she screeched. Vaughn, Sark, Will, and Weiss all turned towards her quickly.
"What?"
"Honestly?"
"Whoa…"
"Nice career change." She glared at each of them in turn, then looked to her mother, who offered her nothing but a sympathetic look. Sydney angrily plopped down next to Sark, who tried to hide his grin.
"Shut up Sark." He snickered, but made no comment.
"Who's next?" Vaughn asked, his curiosity piqued after realizing that his was not, in fact, the worst disguise of the bunch. Achilles tossed a package to Weiss, who opened it without delay. His relieved sigh didn't make the rest of the group any less curious. A moment later, he happily held up a ninja costume.
"That is so anything but fair," Vaughn grumbled.
"I don't even want to hear it," Sydney shot back. Finally, there were only two packages left; Irina and Will each looked worried to some extent. For her part, Irina seemed more controlled, somewhat impatient, and vaguely curious- as compared to Will's thumbnail-biting, jumpy, sweating anxiety. Achilles tossed Irina her package first, prolonging Will's torture.
"A pharaoh?" Irina asked skeptically as she got her package opened.
"It was either that or Stalin," Achilles replied.
"The pharaoh works," Irina said quickly, clutching her costume to her. Finally, it was Will's turn. He snatched his package from Achilles' hands and ripped it open. A moment later, an odd looking garment clattered to the floor… as did Will.
"Are you ok?" Sydney asked worriedly, kneeling by his side. She ignored Sark as he began to pick up the disguise.
"Will? Hey, Will? Are you…" she trailed off as she caught on to the eerie silence in the bus. Slowly she stood and turned to face the rest of the group. Everyone- including Sark- looked shocked, and Sydney immediately realized why. She whirled on Achilles.
"That is just cruel."
"It was the best I could do."
"What about the Stalin you mentioned?"
"He is popular. It sold out."
"I can't believe this!" Sydney sighed.
"I find it rather amusing," Sark mused.
"You would," Sydney snapped.
"What? What's not to like?"
"Everything!"
"Syd… you have to admit, it's pretty funny," Weiss said slowly.
"No, it isn't!"
"Yeah, it really is. I mean… what kind of twisted mind would think of disguising Will Tippin as a Las Vegas showgirl?"