Syrina
Chapter Six
Plan
Syrina woke up screaming that night. She rarely had nightmares, but when she did, they were pretty terrifying. It was probably from the added stress of knowing she would be part of an Apocalypse. Sark opened the door to her bedroom and poked his head in. She was heaving breaths and she realized she was sweating.
"Syri?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry. I wasn't trying to wake you up."
"You didn't. I couldn't sleep. I had a lot of plans to outline."
Sark walked across the room and leaned against the edge of the mattress. The pair didn't speak for a few moments as Syrina's breathing regulated. A memory of a nine-year-old Syrina screaming in horror and a fourteen-year-old Sark comforting the little girl until she calmed flashed through both of their memories.
"What was your dream about?"
"Oh, the usual. Running from danger, falling off a cliff sort of thing."
Both knew she was lying to him, but as usual, they moved on to a more comfortable topic. Sark wasn't one to press her into telling him about something she wanted to keep to herself.
"All right. Why don't you go on back to sleep?"
Syrina shook her head.
"I don't think I could. Tell me your plan. It'll distract me."
"Okay. Sydney is under constant surveillance by the CIA because they don't really trust her. We'll have to get past the guards and disable the cameras. Hopefully, we'll enter into her bedroom without any trouble. We'll have the Rambaldi trigger with us and you'll have to set her memories in motion. Then, if everything goes as planned, we'll discuss her past with her and explain that we must to instill a sort of trust in us in her brain."
"And if she's smart enough to know not to trust us?"
"We force her to come with us. She can help us complete the prophecy by choice or she can be forced into it. That will be up the prophecy is fate. She'll trust us because The Telling says she will."
Syrina nodded at that explanation.
"We'll bring her back here and the rest, Syrina, is up to you."
Syrina collapsed back into her pillows and pulled the covers over her head. She wanted to hide. Sark stretched out next to her, staring up at the ceiling. Syrina peeked out from under her blankets and glanced over at Sark when he sighed.
"It's hard to believe that all this has happened. Both of us were taught that we had to complete Rambaldi's work. It was supposed to be more important than anything else. My entire life has been dedicated to Rambaldi's work, 22 years! Yours has been much the same. Now that we've put everything together, all I want to do is destroy it all. Syrina, I just, I've seen how much damage it's caused and I don't understand the obsession. Irina's, Sloane's, even Khasinau's. What good is the prophecy and completing the work since it seems so completely useless."
Syrina grabbed a hold of Sark's hand and situated herself on his chest. She stared up at him with pleading eyes and spoke, "You can't doubt this, Andrew. I'm too scared of it. You're the one who has always been confident in Rambaldi. I only believed in him because of you."
"I do believe in his work. I just, I don't know. It's really hard to explain it to you, Syri."
Syrina squeezed his hand, whether it was to comfort him or to comfort herself, she wasn't really sure. Just knowing Sark was there helped. Syrina closed her eyes, her eyelids suddenly seeming too heavy to keep them open. Sark's hand started to stroke her silky hair in a gentle gesture, to reassure himself of Syrina's self. The two dozed off into restless slumber.
Syrina tightened her ponytail as she and Sark rounded the corner. Across the street a van was parked conspicuously, spying on Sydney's house. Syrina held back as Sark strolled confidently towards the front door of the house. Syrina crossed the street and listened for the commotion from the interior as they realized the terrorist Mr. Sark was parading in front of them. Syrina kept one eye on the door and one eye on Sark, admiring him from afar. He was definitely worth admiring. Any minute now the agents would inevitably burst out. As if on cue, three agents jumped from the van and Syrina shot each one with a tranquilizer. She didn't need to kill them, just put them in a nice long sleep. She sprinted across the street once more and met up with Sark, who had disabled two cameras. Syrina picked the lock on the front door and the two entered. Sydney was nowhere to be found.
Sydney flipped the television on, scanning channel after channel. She used to never have time to watch TV and when she did, it'd been two years ago. Since then, a lot had changed. She was bored. She didn't really know what else to do. She felt like she was under a microscope, going from therapy to a home under watch. It was like she had no time to be on her own. She collapsed on her bed dramatically, wishing she had something to break up the monotony of the days and nights. Dixon hadn't let her go on any missions since the last one, so even her talent was being wasted. At the moment, she couldn't imagine her ever wanting to be out of spying. She used to wish it, but how bored would she be? But maybe she should forget about it all. She could go be a teacher. She had the certifications. But then again, she'd be like Vaughn. She wouldn't follow in his footsteps. Speaking of footsteps, she was positive she'd heard some. She turned to the door and yelped as a tranquilizer dart hit her in the neck. The last thing she saw was Syrina's smug smirk from the door jam, before everything went black.
Sark shook his head, disbelieving. "Syrina, that was not part of the plan! You went against my instructions!"
Syrina shrugged nonchalantly as she placed the tranquilizer gun back into her messenger bag. "So? This works just as well. I'm the one in the Rambaldi prophecy. I should have been the one to come up with the plan."
"You couldn't have mentioned your change in tactics before you shot Sydney with a tranquilizer dart."
"It's not like I killed her, Andrew. Get over it!"
She put her hands on her hips, challenging him to fight her on this. He wanted to, but he knew they didn't have the time. The CIA would realize that the guards were down and that the surveillance was out and they'd come to the house. They needed to be gone when the CIA arrived. He walked over to Sydney, pulling her up carefully into his arms.
"You're on your own when you explain to Sydney why she's where she is."
"Fine. I'm not scared of her."
"Maybe you should be."
Sark brushed past Syrina and hurried down the stairs to the car parked around the corner. Syrina followed irritably, not knowing why Sark was so mad. It was her choice. She was the one who had to trigger Sydney's memories. She should choose how to do it. It would be easier to prompt her memories while she was unconscious. It'd probably less painful for both of them that way.