Blood Binds – But Betrayal Blinds
SEVEN – Commence with Strategy
Rating: PG/PG-13
Setting: LA, Unknown Location in Eastern Europe, Air Space over the Atlantic
Characters: Sark, Abs Michaelis (Jessica Alba), Allison Doren, Will Tippin, Elle Williams (maggie Gyllenhaal), Marshall Flinkman, Marcus Dixon, Eric Weiss, Jack Bristow, McKenas Cole, Simon Walker, Sydney Bristow, Aiden Ivanov (Hugh Dancy or James Franco) mentioned Rambaldi, Suit & Glasses, Khasinau
Length: 4,765 Words
Sark's feet fall hard on the marble floor making a constant beat - like a metronome, the pace of his heart - as he walks down the hall toward the one room he knows Abs will be in. And it never fails - when he can't find the woman he always heads to the large room at the end of the hall in the first basement. He walks in, like always, and is immediately met with a sharp dagger hurling in the direction of his head. Sark ducks. So, she's practicing throwing today. "If that had hit me..." Sark trails, slowly standing back up, looking in the direction of the woman who has another dagger ready for throwing.
"If it had hit you, what?" She demands boldly, threatening to throw it at him with every tempting flick of her right wrist. She lets the dagger go, and Sark once more ducks out of the way, hearing the pop as it connects with the wall behind him. A grin spreads across her face as Sark turns to look at her handiwork.
"Not bad Abs," calls Allison from the other end of the room, where she is reading a book and smoking a cigarette. Abs hates the smell but she murmurs a thanks, revels in Sark's caution as he turns his back to her. But Abs is no back-stabber. He pulls the five daggers from the wall, and slowly walks to where she stands. There's a table located at her left, with over a dozen of the sharp weapons just piled on it.
Sark places four of the daggers on her pile, and holds the fifth in his hand. He twirls the dagger about his hand, watching how the light bounces off the blade. He turns to Abs, her brown hair is pulled out of her face and she leans back away from him, slightly. Scowling. She holds a completely separate knife in her hand, waiting to see what Sark is going to do with his. And as Sark throws the dagger, it lands in the center of the black 'X' she's been throwing it, a wordless arch of her eyebrow and she turns back to the collection of knives on the table. Sark frowns. She is mad. She selects a long dagger from the plethora littering the table and holds the dagger to his chest, almost painfully as her eyes glitter like banked fires.
"Get the fuck out," she seethes and she pushes him away, disgust marring her face as turns away, insulting Sark with her indifference to his presence. No caution. Not like him with her.
He reaches out with his hand. Mistake. Abs grabs it as it touches her shoulder and she swivels, taking his arm with her in a painful wrench to his back as she knees him to the ground, his head smacking against cold marble. She does not care as she straddles his prone body, dagger to his nape as he struggles. She pulls on his arm and he does not make a sound of pain. She finds she can admire that. THUD! Allison closes her book, startling them both and Sark seizes the opportunity to lash at her back with his legs and she feints to the side, dragging him with her as he lands on his back and she is still on top, knife to his jugular. Furious as ever.
"I think I'll leave you both to it," Allison says loudly as she walks around them. "Lord knows this is commonplace enough by now." They are not listening as she shuts the door behind her.
"Don't touch me unless I say you can," Abs grates out between her teeth and Sark's arms are pinned to his sides. She is no lightweight for all her slender appearance. The knife has nicked his throat and a spot of blood gleams along the blade. "This could hurt." She warns, watching his eyes. Sark tries not to take any deep breaths or gulp. They've done this before, many times actually. And once he made that mistake, resulting in a laceration to his jugular. He does not want a repeat performance.
"It could." He whispers and he looks into her fiery eyes, she is hiding something beneath all the violence she wears like a second skin and she is trying not to let it show. She is sad. "Abigail..."
"I really don't think you should be calling me that right now," she whispers as the knife jerks.
"Abigail... She was nothing. Just a means to an end." Sark murmurs tightly, the knife cool and lethal at his pulse.
"And that's the whole problem with you." Abs mutters bitterly. She stands up suddenly and tosses the knife away. She walks to stand by the window, and she ignores his incredulous reflection in the glass. The grounds are beautiful, and she wishes she escape the madness that is the man standing three feet behind her by running across those fields. Too late she thinks.
She stills, but allows his arms to encircle her waist without any violent action. She does not relax inside his arms as his breath fans out along the crook of her neck. He kisses her shoulder softly and hums along it with sweet reverence as she tries to ignore him. His mouth at her ear makes unwarranted shivers steal up her spine as he presses her to his body. "You... are my cause for delight," Sark whispers softly into the shell of her ear and Abigail smiles. She can never hate him when he calls her that. She turns around in his arms and drapes her arms around his neck. She is slightly amused.
"Shut up, you make a lousy James Bond," she scolds and she touches her lips to his softly before pulling away, looking into his blue December eyes for something Abs knows she will never find. He pouts slightly at her insult and she laughs lightly. He seizes her mouth possessively and Abs lets him. Tongues tasting and arms entwining as they shift from the window to the couch and she is lying down with him hovering over her. She is smiling, brightly and fiercely because this is where she has him and him alone. Everywhere else is just pieces and she likes to taste him whole.
He lets his hand trail down her bare arm, a pleasant smile on her face, as her eyes drift closed as the sensations take control of her. Her features are soft, changing from before the angry darkness to a pure and gentle light that only Sark ever sees. He loves her like this; at peace and content, purring at his callused touch. His hand continues gliding down her body, fingertips dragging on her right thigh. And he reaches her ankle, suddenly slipping into her pant leg. A smile crosses his face, as he pulls the dangerous knife from its holster. "Abigail," His words cause her to open her eyes. She watches the way he examines the weapon of choice, and she pouts. "Knife play, is not foreplay." He states, resting the knife on the table at the end of the couch.
"Well what do you have in mind then, Julian?" She asks in response. He loves when she calls him that. She always says it coquettishly, her words slow and enticing, like a pleasant Italian aria, rolling off her tongue almost musically. Sark leans in and lets his lips rest on her neck, making slow bruises, that she will wear proudly. He marks her with his lips the way she marks him with her hands and knives.
He starts to unbutton her pants and she tilts her hips upwards to make it easier. Her eyebrow is raised as she waits for his reply. He grins softly, she is always entertaining, almost always playing with him as he does with her. One hand pulls her hair out from its ponytail so that caresses her cheeks. She looks more vulnerable; with him she is vulnerable.
"Just us," he murmurs before kissing her lips and closing his eyes. He does not catch the surprise that filters through her large brown eyes; a sheen of unshed tears and then she is losing herself in him. She hates that he does this - lets her taste the sweetest of pleasures, but ruin it with his words. It will never be just them, because it's always 'she was nothing, just a means to an end.' She hates that he hurts her this way. She furiously wraps her arms and legs around him as he sears her heart and skin with his lips, both wanting and anticipating more.
"Can ya'll stop the sex acts for a sec?" Allison inquires as she peeks her head in the door. Abs turns to grin at the woman all sign of tears gone. Sark sits up on the couch and she follows suit, both wait for Allison to speak. "Cole just called, they're about ten minutes away." Allison says, she looks at the two of them almost disapprovingly. As if to say: there are bedrooms for this express purpose, but Abs is nonchalant until Allison closes the door. She gestures for her pants and Sark admires her long toned legs as she slips them back on. It's always like this - over before it's done or started; just like the way he loves her.
Then she gets up off the couch, crossing the room to where her knives still lay in a pile. Sark watches the way she walks and admires her as she once again, begins throwing her daggers. She turns to look at him, hair loose and wild around her bare shoulders, a dagger in each hand. "Do you want to try and best me?" She challenges impishly and Sark grins as he gets up and walks over to her proffered knives.
Will takes a deep breath, turning to Elle, who sits at the table in the Rotunda, looking over her notes. Her eyes are reading over the papers, moving from side to side behind her glasses. "So, are you ready?" He questions. She looks up, raising her eyebrows at him. The look in her eyes speaks millions. She's scared.
"Yeah, I think I am." She answers, looking back through the papers. "It's just a little nerve wracking - having to give a presentation for something this important." Will places his hand on her back for a second, tapping it lightly. "I've never had to do this." And she turns to him. He sees himself reflected in her features.
"You'll be fine." And they both look up, Will's hand leaving the contact it has made with her body, as the room begins to fill with people. Dixon is walking in first, holding the door open for Lauren. Marshall follows. The sense in the room takes a sullen and sad turn as they all realize four seats are empty; Jack, Sydney, Weiss and Vaughn. And for a moment, Dixon wonders what is happening to his team, before he's greeted with Will and Elle standing before him. "She has her presentation to give on her insight from the tape ready." Will informs him. Dixon nods, walking to the front of the room.
"This is Elle Willi-" He's cut off, by Marshall who is suddenly standing.
"Sorry, but..." He pulls a few devices from his pocket, two cell phones in the pile. Everyone waits in anticipation is he sets small microphones around the room, in front of each person in attendance. He also gives every person an ear piece, which they put in. "Sorry, see, I came up with this just a little... bit um ago. And you see, this way." He dials numbers on the phone. "Jack and Agent Weiss can be at this meeting."
"Very good, Marshall." Dixon responds. "Can you hear us Jack?" They get a positive response from Jack and then an equally positive one from Weiss. "Okay. This is Elle Williams, she's an analyst under the supervision and instruction of Will Tippin." Dixon introduces. Elle stands before the group looking at everyone, smiling. She walks to the front of the room, swallowing hard.
"Alright, well..." She takes a deep breath, sorting through her papers. "The first thing I noticed was that the man you all know as Simon Walker is known to me, and my research as Antonio Plassenegger. He is a low grade munitions dealer, and also works in drug trafficking." She sets her papers down on the table, looking up at Dixon. "See, he's partners with a man named Ivan Rushkin, and they both work under a man named Bomani." Lauren sits up in her seat at the sound of the name. Elle takes a step away from her firm statue like stance in front of the room. "Now, a few months ago, an assassination attempt was made on Simon Walker. And obviously he didn't die; He continued to work as Plassenegger, most recently involved in the theft of a new virus software which takes out whole electrical grids."
Elle takes a pause, just long enough to hear a question in her ear, from one of the men on the plane. "Is that what happened in Cairo last month?" The man questions. Everyone's mind rushes back to the news story. The whole city of Cairo, and much of its neighboring large cities was with out power for three weeks. The national guard had to go in to stop the looting and rioting going on during the time.
"Yes, Agent Weiss, it is." Dixon answers for her, and Elle watches as the man nods in her direction, prompting her to continue.
"The latest Intel I have received on the man has told me that he wants Persson and Mohrle out because they know where something is. What that is, I can only guess. But he has a kind of vengeance against these men, because they double-crossed him a few years ago. They made a B-line towards a mutiny over the man, overthrowing his power just before they acquired a Rambaldi artifact - a book. They doctored the Intel, just as it was, and sold that artifact as it was real." Elle takes a deep breath. "They kept a rubbing or a copy of the real book, with out doctored Intel, and split the money between the two of them. And so it's my theory that Plassenegger, or, Simon Walker as you know him, is only out for revenge."
"What happened to the book they sold?" She hears a different voice in her ear, and assumes it is the one of Jack Bristow. All eyes land upon Elle as she hesitates to speak.
"Well, just minutes ago, I was informed by Director Dixon that the book is in the CIA's custody as a part of Project Black Hole." She states. And she then begins to speak once more, not waiting for questions and words. "The page that was changed is page 47 - and it has a prophecy on it about a woman bringing forth Rambaldi's work. That prophecy has been changed from its original form. Only Mohrle and Persson know what it really said."
Her stormy brown eyes fall upon Aiden as he slowly brings the black cell phone to his right ear. He's speaking, murmuring words in Russian; words not meant for her to be a part of, as he makes himself more comfortable in the chair. She stands across the room, watching the way he speaks, blocking out everything else in the world, as though he and the recipient of his words are all that matter. She feels a small sting of jealousy, but knows that he's not trying to make her feel that way.
Slowly Steph reaches under the beautiful bed, pulling out a hard black brief case. This is her life; her whole world. She opens it, the sound of clanking metal sparking her attention and exciting her senses. The light bounces off of shiny surfaces as she mentally surveys everything before her. Slowly her eyes focus in on all of the tools and objects before her. She reaches in, letting her soft fingers graze cold metal, resting on soft blood red velvet. Steph is the interrogator, and these are her weapons.
Her favorite of her plethora of tools is the pliers. They remind her of days and nights spent learning and studying in Taipei. Steph doesn't like to analyze her life. She doesn't like to look to her past, and learn from the mistakes she's made, because as she views it; she's made no mistakes. The pain and struggle in her life came from the actions and decisions of others, not her. And so she doesn't talk about it or even acknowledge it.
Steph does not celebrate her birth anymore, like everyone else does. She celebrates the anniversary of the day she feels she was reborn. Her rebirth came the day she was taken in by Alexander Khasinau. Anything before that, in her mind, does not exist - or at the very least is unimportant. She was only nineteen when he took her in off the street to live with him. And she remembers within the first few days he gave her two options. He knew about her skills as an alchemist, and told her she could live with him and learn under his direction, or she could go back to her old life. She obviously chose the former.
Immediately there after she began studying in the art of physical defense. She was a fast learner, mastering her body and muscles quickly. But he came to find that she was a bit of a short fuse. She didn't have the mental capacity that he required of operatives working beneath him. That's where Taipei came from. On her twentieth birthday - the last birthday she celebrated - her sent her to study under Suit & Glasses. She has so many fond memories from that time in her life; the most being hours of meditation on the beach. She would sit on a rock, the cold wet air entering her lungs just as the sun would begin to rise, staring out at what seemed like the water, but was nothing. He taught her how to center herself; find balance in her life.
He taught her how to interrogate. He taught her how to intimidate a person so much that they'll speak. A lot of it is smoke and mirrors. One must first get into head of whom they're interrogating. She remembers how she got to Sark. He's an interesting man to interrogate, actually, because he lives as though he has no fears. The best way she found, to interrogate him, was to just get inside his head. She was hot and cold with him; one minute giving him things he wanted, and the next causing excruciating pain.
She found herself going the route of many before her; using Chateau Petrus '82 as a source of pleasure for the young man. She would then take the deep red wine away, commenting about the vintage, and then pour it on the floor. She would look into his eyes as the ultra expensive wine splashed from the floor onto his shoes. And however well that worked, it came down to her using money and fire. On the one hand, Sark will always follow wherever his money leads him. But when he wouldn't budge as much as she had liked him to, she decided to see how he would react to singed flesh. He still bares the mark of her intimidation; a scar from the blistered, burned skin on his inner arm. She remembers how she smiled upon hearing that he used the same technique on his own father. And finally he earned her respect. Because unlike everyone else, he had to earn her respect as opposed to the other way around.
Steph loved Taipei. If she was born in Russia, through Khasinau; she was found in Taipei through Suit & Glasses. He taught her the art of balance, through the words of Buddha. He taught her how to act as opposed to react. She learned how to observe, become more aware of her surroundings. In his care she was in perfect balance, always knowing how to conduct herself. She was at peace, never out of touch with anything. But upon her departure, at the age of 21, she began to obsess in her work. She never knew how much her personality garnered behavior like that, but wasn't surprised when she found herself, four years later, interrogating a man into his own death. She destroyed the very beautiful creation she had become.
She realized she was slipping out of control; losing the one thing she had always had in her life. She was ashamed of returning to the man who made her into a beautiful creation, because she had ultimately taken his work and ruined it. It was then that she found herself running into McKenas Cole, through some freelance work she did with SD-6. Instantly she was hooked, an attraction sparked, though it wasn't physical. It was Cole that helped her through the low point, giving her new faith in her talents; turning to her original strength in chemistry. She was then, 'The Devil's Alchemist', creating any and everything he ever needed. He gave her new hope in herself, letting her learn and explore the ways of his arrogance. She learned to believe in herself, though she is not arrogant. She could never be him. She still has to humble herself, every time she enforces the pain she feels on others, because otherwise she'll find herself spiraling again.
And then she met Aiden. She came to him damaged, broken from the inside, by her own design. And he saw threw it; the only one to ever doubt her work, based on her mental capacity. He began to work with her, never once seeing her as a possible bedmate; unlike Cole. And he always had faith; always gentle in his lessons, making sure she believed in herself before she ever took the next step. He taught her grace, beauty, and control. He taught her how to see the minute details again. And it wasn't until she opened up to him, that he ever saw her as anything other than a potentially valuable operative. She let him know about her past; the life before Khasinau and her rebirth into the world they share. He's the only one who knows, the only one who needs to. He respects her boundaries and limits, and knows that beneath that hard exterior is a woman who wants to learn, see the world, and become everything anyone ever told her she could not.
She shuts the heavy brief case, clicking it shut, as she hears him say his goodbye. She turns just in time to see Aiden turn the phone off. He slips his wire-framed glasses on, writing something down on a pad of paper, before slipping it in his pocket. She allows him to keep secrets from her, because she knows that in the long run, they are both more than their work. "'ania," The word - his name for her - is soft, but she sees in his eyes that he's said it. And she smiles, slipping the black leather gloves on. She is the interrogator, these are her weapons, and he is her strength.
Anticipation doesn't describe the feeling. Sark and Allison stand in the second basement of the beautiful mansion which has been built into the side of the hill; this being the only floor that is almost entirely submerged into the earth, save for a vehicle entrance. They're standing in one of the unfinished rooms, awaiting the word from Walker and Cole. And they both turn as the door opens. "I'm ready", Steph states, before she closes the door once more. She's going to one of the other, smaller rooms, to prepare for the arrival.
Aiden is still upstairs, four floors above them in the control center of the entire property. He is awaiting the phone call, telling him to unlock the gate at the foot of the property - two miles from the actual Villa. And along the way, there are a total of five check points, where, unless a person were to know all the different codes, that person would not get in without the access granted by someone within the home. It's all very technical, with each checkpoint creating a higher threat. The covenant refuses to take any chances when it comes to security. And Abs, who usually likes to be in the very center of the action, is busy taking a phone call. But Sark, who would normally feel a longing at her absence, does not now, for he is awaiting Sydney.
Sark feels his heart begin to race when the intercom sounds. It's Aiden, and apparently they have just passed through the final checkpoint. Quickly he and Allison walk to the garage; guns drawn. They both know each other's moves, know how to trust one another, in spite of their tangled, troubled past. His breath catches in his mouth as the automatic door opens, and the black SUV drives in. He can see Cole driving. The third task has been completed. The first was to acquire Agent Bristow. The second was to remove all tracking devices from the woman, and switch cars, killing that driver. And the third, was to kill the driver of the third car. Sark refuses to leave loose ends.
A smile spreads across his face as the automatic door shuts, and Cole's window rolls down. He holds a bottle of champagne out side of the vehicle, and pops the cork. The force sends it soaring around the room, denting the SUV, as the champagne fizzes out of the bottle. He quickly takes a swig off the bottle, opening the door. "Hey! It's the hair!" He laughs, climbing out of the car. Sark sighs, watching Cole's movements. He keeps his gun drawn, because when working with people who double cross for a living, one can never underestimate the betrayal of those in close proximity. "Care for some..." He reads the title. "Well this shit is so expensive I can't pronounce it - it will definitely suit your taste." He walks over to Sark, holding the bottle out for him. And Sark shakes his head.
"Where's Bristow?" He questions. Cole hands the bottle to Allison. She smiles, accepting it, taking a long drink, and the man smiles.
"Oh she's in the back with Simon - knocked out. We ran into a snag." Cole explains. "Or rather Simon ran into a screw driver." On that note, the back door opens and Simon climbs out, limping. He has a cloth tied tight around his leg, blood soaked down his suit pants. He walks over, mumbling a 'cheers' as he pulls his exhausted and pain filled body into the house. Allison turns to Sark, then follows Simon, knowing that he is in need of immediate medical care.
Sark then puts his gun away, walking to the car. "Help me out." He calls over his shoulder. And Cole does so, lifting Sydney's deceptively petite body, handing her to Sark. The woman weighs more than one would think, solid muscle heavy in his arms. He has his left arm under her knees, his hand feeling her smooth skin, while the right arm is wrapped around her upper body. She wears a black dress and a black tux jacket, and he can feel a very moist spot on her left arm. Cole grabs everything out of the car, carrying all of the left over belongings, including the bloodstained screwdriver. They both walk into the house, skipping over the room that Steph has set up in.
He feels as her eyes land upon him. Abs stands in the hallway, watching Sark carry Sydney through to a separate room. She can feel her blood boiling, then slowing to a smooth simmer. She lets a heavy breath exit her body, turning away and exiting the floor as she sees Cole walking in her direction.
Sark takes a deep breath as he lays Sydney on the plain cot, her unconscious body seeping into the mattress. The room is plain, and yet at the same time plush. He sits in the chair next to the bed, watching her for a moment, before he stands and exits the room. He locks the door behind him, knowing that his plan has finally begun.