Disclaimer: I do not own ALIAS. Nor anything else that has to do with it.
Although, I do, however, own Catherine Rossakoff.
Half way across the world... (In Florida) Sydney was being held in an old silent movie theater.
"You see..." Catherine began, "Hollywood wasn't always in California. No, you see, it was originally in Florida. When silent films were big, people use to crowd this theater. It's rather sad that now all we have for entertainment is Ashton Kutcher's love life with Demi Moore.
"people in America use to consider going to the theater a privilege. Unless you were rich. But that's another rant that you're sure to hear.
"They use to go, once a week, usually on Saturday, to the old silent film viewing. Times were simpler then, and there wasn't greedy corporate McDonald's® that had no shame and went all around the globe so that it could fatten the world up. Yes. However, I digress. Now, as to why you are here, I cannot answer that (nor would I) because, well, I have no desire to get my head blown off."
"If you wouldn't talk so much..." Sark said, standing on the balcony.
"And if you weren't such a horrible boss..." Catherine countered.
"Shut up." Sark harshly ordered.
"Make me!" Catherine whispered, skipping off to behind the stage.
"Sorry she's so... weird." Sark apologized to Sydney.
"She's not weird." Sydney said, although it was muffled and didn't sound quite like it was suppose to. (Hey, it's not her fault she was gagged!)
"What?" Sark asked. "I don't think I heard you correctly, Ms. Bristow."
"What are you going to do when I get married?" Sydney thought. "I highly doubt that you'll take the time to call me 'Mrs. Bristow.' It seems so like you to take the easy way out of things."
"Are you plotting something in that deviously intelligent brain of your?" Catherine asked from the stage.
"I'm not." A confused Sark replied.
"NOT YOU! Her!" Catherine exclaimed, pointing at Sydney.
"Well, you could have said that originally!" Sark scoffed.
Sydney let out a muffled sigh. "I'm surrounded by idiots no matter where I go!" She thought.
On stage, Catherine was prancing around. Then, suddenly, without warning, she pulled out a gun and shot at the screen.
"What on this green earth are you doing?!" Sark asked.
"There's a man behind the screen." Catherine replied. "Besides, the earth is mostly blue Mr. I-went-to-a-private-school-in-England-and-know-nothing!"
It was Sark's turn to sigh. "Catherine, you don't mean that."
"I do! Oh, here comes the man now!" She exclaimed, as a flustered Jack Bristow walked out from behind the screen.
"Catherine!" He yelled, "You aren't supposed to shoot at me!"
"Sorry!" She yelped. "I thought you might have been... never mind."
"Thought I might have been who?" Jack asked, squinting at her.
"Cole." She whispered.
"WHY WOULD YOU SHOOT AT HIM?!?" Jack yelled.
"Because Mr. I-went-to-a-private-school-in-England-and-know-nothing over there told me to!" She replied.
"Sark told you to shoot at Cole?" Jack asked, confused.
"Yeah. He also told me a lot of other stuff that I probably shouldn't repeat, because that might make the rating go up just a bit." Catherine replied.
"Right. Anyway, Julian, I have come to make a proposal." Jack said, turning his attention to the man in the balcony.
"Go right ahead." Sark agreed.
"You give me Sydney, I give you five million." Jack offered.
"How about six?" Sark countered.
"5.5"
"Six."
"5.6?"
"Six."
"5.9?"
"Six."
"FINE! SIX IT IS!"
"Wow. That was smooth negotiating, Mr. B." Catherine joked.
"Ms. Rossakoff, I am not in the mood for games right now." Jack sighed.
"That's okay! I have a twelve hour flight with Julian." Catherine snickered.
"Sounds like a trip." Jack agreed.
Whilst Jack and Catherine were having their conversation, Sark had come down to the aisle Sydney was in and untied her.
"Thank you." She said.
"You're quite welcome." He replied. Then, he got a swift kick in the stomach from Sydney as she was leaving.
"Payback." She shrugged.
"I assumed as much." Sark replied.
Half way across the world... (In Florida) Sydney was being held in an old silent movie theater.
"You see..." Catherine began, "Hollywood wasn't always in California. No, you see, it was originally in Florida. When silent films were big, people use to crowd this theater. It's rather sad that now all we have for entertainment is Ashton Kutcher's love life with Demi Moore.
"people in America use to consider going to the theater a privilege. Unless you were rich. But that's another rant that you're sure to hear.
"They use to go, once a week, usually on Saturday, to the old silent film viewing. Times were simpler then, and there wasn't greedy corporate McDonald's® that had no shame and went all around the globe so that it could fatten the world up. Yes. However, I digress. Now, as to why you are here, I cannot answer that (nor would I) because, well, I have no desire to get my head blown off."
"If you wouldn't talk so much..." Sark said, standing on the balcony.
"And if you weren't such a horrible boss..." Catherine countered.
"Shut up." Sark harshly ordered.
"Make me!" Catherine whispered, skipping off to behind the stage.
"Sorry she's so... weird." Sark apologized to Sydney.
"She's not weird." Sydney said, although it was muffled and didn't sound quite like it was suppose to. (Hey, it's not her fault she was gagged!)
"What?" Sark asked. "I don't think I heard you correctly, Ms. Bristow."
"What are you going to do when I get married?" Sydney thought. "I highly doubt that you'll take the time to call me 'Mrs. Bristow.' It seems so like you to take the easy way out of things."
"Are you plotting something in that deviously intelligent brain of your?" Catherine asked from the stage.
"I'm not." A confused Sark replied.
"NOT YOU! Her!" Catherine exclaimed, pointing at Sydney.
"Well, you could have said that originally!" Sark scoffed.
Sydney let out a muffled sigh. "I'm surrounded by idiots no matter where I go!" She thought.
On stage, Catherine was prancing around. Then, suddenly, without warning, she pulled out a gun and shot at the screen.
"What on this green earth are you doing?!" Sark asked.
"There's a man behind the screen." Catherine replied. "Besides, the earth is mostly blue Mr. I-went-to-a-private-school-in-England-and-know-nothing!"
It was Sark's turn to sigh. "Catherine, you don't mean that."
"I do! Oh, here comes the man now!" She exclaimed, as a flustered Jack Bristow walked out from behind the screen.
"Catherine!" He yelled, "You aren't supposed to shoot at me!"
"Sorry!" She yelped. "I thought you might have been... never mind."
"Thought I might have been who?" Jack asked, squinting at her.
"Cole." She whispered.
"WHY WOULD YOU SHOOT AT HIM?!?" Jack yelled.
"Because Mr. I-went-to-a-private-school-in-England-and-know-nothing over there told me to!" She replied.
"Sark told you to shoot at Cole?" Jack asked, confused.
"Yeah. He also told me a lot of other stuff that I probably shouldn't repeat, because that might make the rating go up just a bit." Catherine replied.
"Right. Anyway, Julian, I have come to make a proposal." Jack said, turning his attention to the man in the balcony.
"Go right ahead." Sark agreed.
"You give me Sydney, I give you five million." Jack offered.
"How about six?" Sark countered.
"5.5"
"Six."
"5.6?"
"Six."
"5.9?"
"Six."
"FINE! SIX IT IS!"
"Wow. That was smooth negotiating, Mr. B." Catherine joked.
"Ms. Rossakoff, I am not in the mood for games right now." Jack sighed.
"That's okay! I have a twelve hour flight with Julian." Catherine snickered.
"Sounds like a trip." Jack agreed.
Whilst Jack and Catherine were having their conversation, Sark had come down to the aisle Sydney was in and untied her.
"Thank you." She said.
"You're quite welcome." He replied. Then, he got a swift kick in the stomach from Sydney as she was leaving.
"Payback." She shrugged.
"I assumed as much." Sark replied.