Syrina
Chapter Eight
Conversations
Sydney woke up, feeling disoriented. None of her surroundings were familiar, nor were the two men that stood watch over her at the door. She remembered sitting on the bed in the safe house and then Syrina shooting her with a tranquilizer dart. Of course. She was a prisoner. She tried to sit up, but found that her wrists were handcuffed to the headboard. She collapsed back against the pillow, trying to formulate an escape plan. That was cut short as several flashes shot through her mind. She was in every one of them. One she held a small box which she pressed a button and an explosion ripped through the vision. The next, she held a gun to a man's head, him begging for his life, her sadistic smile spreading across her face as she fired. Lastly was Sloane, hooking her up to the gigantic machine full of all different mechanisms, telling her that she would forget her old life and only remember what he told her. She shut her eyes to block the images out. She couldn't find a way to get rid of them. She was suddenly terrified of what she had seen. Were they memories? They seemed real enough, but she didn't want them to be true. She heard the door open and familiar footsteps enter the room. Sark. Great. Sydney knew that whatever had just happened to her was his fault. It always was. She reopened her eyes and focused on him. She recognized Syrina standing supportively behind him.
"What did you do to me?"
Sark waved off the guards before folding his hands into a triangle, tapping his foot impatiently against the wood floor. "We reinstated your memories. You are the one who has been searching for your past. Syrina and I simply triggered your recollections."
"How do I know these are memories? You probably implanted these scenes in my head."
"It is entirely possible, though I thought you would
appreciate the help."
"Why would you help me?"
Sark smiled somewhat, and stopped his incessant tapping.
"The Rambaldi Prophecy has named you the woman who could bring on the Apocalypse. Syrina is also part of the The Telling. Together, you two will fulfill your destiny. Since we helped you recover your past, you can help us."
Sydney scoffed at his incredible remark. "I never asked for your help, Mr. Sark, so you shouldn't expect me to help you."
Sark shrugged nonchalantly, as if the plan did not depend on her agreeing to help.
"Fine. You can stay locked to this bed until you begin to see things my way."
Sydney glared at him, wishing that looks could kill. She watched Syrina place her hand on Sark's arm and whisper something unintelligible. Sydney tried to read her lips, but she couldn't. Sark nodded slowly and stepped away without another word to Sydney. Sydney waited for Syrina to follow him out, but she did not move.
Syrina stood stock still while she studied Sydney from her spot in the center of the room. Sydney seemed to be trying to gauge her reaction to everything that had happened. Syrina let Sydney complete her examination. She approached Sydney, finally, pulling a chair up to the bed. She didn't speak yet, words swirling around like a cyclone in her head. She hadn't had much contact with Sydney, only two encounters before. Something about the older spy reminded her of herself. The longing for a place to belong was possibly it. Sydney watched Syrina with careful eyes. She wanted to help the girl, yet something about her made Sydney question whether Syrina could be helped. Syrina had a darkness inside that Sydney both understood and feared.
"So, Miss Khasinau, why did you stay here? Want to have a heart to heart?" Sydney asked, needing to break the uncomfortable, tense silence.
"Something like that." Syrina shifted in her seat, crossing her legs elegantly.
"Miss Bristow, you are by far one of the most talented agents I have come across."
"I'm sure you've encountered a lot of them."
Syrina narrowed her eyes, an abrupt annoyance bubbling up inside of her. Sydney was being quite condescending towards her, even though she'd proven herself time and again.
"I have. What I was saying is I'm much better. I've been spying just as long as you have and I've been trained by the best. That is how I managed to capture you, Agent Sydney Bristow, spy extraordinaire. Now this Rambaldi Code that everyone believes in named me as an instrument of the Code. I never really understood Rambaldi, to be honest, but everyone around me believes steadfastly in his work. I've kind of accepted it. I was raised with the Rambaldi work. It was like a religion with my father and Irina. I haven't known anything else. Even A-Sark believes in it. I read the Prophecy. I don't want to believe in this stuff anymore. I'm just surrounded by it, no matter how far I run. I'll be stuck with it forever. I think you're experiencing the same thing I am. You can't run from The Telling or Il Dire. You have to face the consequences of what some old guy from hundreds of years ago says."
Sydney didn't reply, a little surprised that Syrina had just explained everything she had been feeling. The only thing Syrina had passed over was the anger she felt towards Arvin Sloane for stealing two years of her life to make her a cold-blooded murderer for Rambaldi. Syrina continued her long-winded speech, not really leaving Sydney an opening to speak.
"I was said to be The Two. That is the one who will either help you or stop you from bringing on the Apocalypse. I was genetically designed to choose. It won't even by my real choice, just what I've been programmed to pick. You're supposed to listen to me. But for us to finish off this Rambaldi Prophecy to rid ourselves of that bloody man, you have to work with me. Sydney, I'll unlock you and we can begin, but I have to have your word that you won't try to escape."
Sydney didn't promise anything. Not yet.
"You really think we'll be done with Rambaldi after this?"
Syrina nodded imperceptibly, waiting.
"Fine. I won't attempt an escape."
Syrina couldn't stop a wide smile for covering her whole face. She might be free of this mess for a while. She could only hope. Dreams of moving away to a house with a picket fence and Andrew floated through her mind. She shook the thoughts away and moved towards Sydney. She unlocked the handcuffs and Sydney dropped her hands, massaging the red-rimmed rings around her chafed wrists.
"Come on. Let's go tell Sark the lovely news."
Sydney stood. "You and Sark are close?"
Syrina rolled her eyes, her teenage years breaking through for a moment. She refused to answer as she led Sydney into the living room.