Disclaimer: I don't own Alias. Obviously. Don't sue. I own everyone you don't recognize, plus the amazing plot line. I also claim the Society of the Fifth.
Premise: Thanks to the intel from The Cyclone, Sydney and Vaughn are asked to go undercover… again. This time, they're supposed to recover the chief statistician for The Covenant, who's decided he wants to defect. While they're on their mission, they're also supposed to pick up a Rambaldi artifact, The Puzzle. Where are they going undercover? Well, no place else but a drum corps!
It was Monday morning, and the CIA's agents were reporting back to work. Sydney, toting a bag of Einstein Brothers' Bagels and a Starbucks coffee cup, waved a good morning to Marshall, who was hard at work perfecting a camera hidden in a pair of nail scissors. His i-Pod was cranked up, and Sydney could hear The Vines emanating from the small device.
Dixon was talking animatedly to Jack Bristow, who was tugging at his burgundy-and-gold patterned tie. Jack nodded a good morning to Sydney, but did not interrupt his superior. Dixon clutched several manila folders in his hands, and was pointing out various things to Jack in some of the files.
Weiss and Vaughn were standing near the computer of one of the interns, Jacque. Jacque was showing them his newest design of a 3-D modeling program to decipher and display building coordinates. Weiss looked very into it, but Sydney knew he was not a computer geek at heart. Vaughn looked up and smiled, but Sydney only smiled back.
Dixon finally broke off his conversation with Jack and turned to Sydney. "Good morning," he said. "You and Agents Weiss and Vaughn will be heading out for your next mission. Let's go into the briefing room, shall we?"
He led the way into the briefing room. Weiss followed. Vaughn had gone to snag Marshall from "the cave," and once they were all assembled, Dixon began. "Two weeks ago, Angus Flittman, chief statistician for the Covenant, left this on a safe CIA website."
He hit a button on his computer, and up came a hand-written letter. "He wrote that he wants to defect from the Covenant. He would be most appreciative if we could assist him in his defection."
"How do we know he's serious?" Weiss asked.
Dixon said, "We don't. But reports from the office where Flittman worked recently have lead us to believe that he is serious about defecting."
"Where is he now?"
"At his other job – coaching the Pershing-St. Clair Wizards, it's a drum and bugle corps. That's where we'll find him, as well as the Rambaldi artifact he's managed to sneak out."
"A drum and bugle corps?" Weiss asked.
"That's right, Agent Weiss – Mr. Flittman coaches the corps from the end of April until the July 15th championships. You'll be shadowing him until after the championships, when it would be safe to bring him to a CIA safe house.
"Sydney, you'll be going in as Flittman's new snare player," Dixon continued. "See Dan Gold down in Accounting and he'll teach you everything you need to know.
"Weiss, you will sign on as a roadie. Flittman's constantly in need of roadies because the corps travels every couple of days.
"And Vaughn, you'll be going in as his new second bugle. Seems a player from Idaho was just recalled." Dixon slid file folders towards each of the agents.
"What about the artifact?" Sydney asked, glancing quickly over her folder.
Dixon pulled at his charcoal sport coat, and turned to the computer screen. Another image came up, this one of a large wooden crate. "The Puzzle. Sought by all Rambaldi scholars the world over. It's belonged to the Rambaldi Society in London for the last fifty years – except recently. The Covenant has taken possession of it within the last two months."
"What does it do?" Weiss asked as Dixon clicked to the next slide, this one of a jumble of pieces of hammered metal, all with inscriptions or knotted designs.
"No one is for certain," Dixon answered, clicking to a close-up of one of the pieces. "The Rambaldi scholars at the Rambaldi Society were only a few days away from deciphering its message before it was stolen by the Covenant."
He clicked to the next slide, this one showing a young woman in her mid-twenties wearing a tight-fitting black dress. "This," he said, "is Anya Dombrowski. She's an agent for Flittman's previous known employer, the Society of the Fifth. Like Flittman, she'll do anything to get her hands on The Puzzle, so make sure she's nowhere near when you retrieve the article.
"You'll be leaving for Pershing-St. Clair at 10:00 tomorrow," Dixon concluded. "Marshall?"
"Right, right!" Marshall said, standing up excitedly. "So, ever since I heard you were going into a drum and bugle corps, I was so excited. So here's what I've come up with."
He pulled a paper lunch bag from next to him on the table. "First of all, I have my camera in the nail scissors." He displayed this to the obvious delight of… himself. "And second, for Sydney, some rockin' cool sticks." He pulled out two drumsticks wrapped in metallic blue tape. "These sticks also have a camera in them – in the tips." He pressed gently at the nylon tips, and an image of the briefing room appeared on the screen next to his elbow. He handed those across to Sydney. "Vaughn, I've designed a microphone for your bugle." This was handed over without much of a fuss. Vaughn inspected it as Marshall reached for the next item in his bag of tricks. "Now, Agent Weiss, this was a little more difficult, but I've created dime-sized camera and microphone combinations you can leave on any piece of equipment you can get your hands on."
Weiss appreciatively looked at the bag of cameras Marshall passed him.
"Plus, some lock picks. Really nice ones, the best I've ever made. You know, I always say that, and then I come up with something better. Guess it just proves I'm a genius…" He trailed off. "Anyway, these lock picks are heat sensitive and able to detect infrared camera beams. All the better for breaking into those undisclosed locations."
Sydney smiled reassuringly at him, and he handed her the slim leather case of lock picks.
"Good," Dixon said. "You'll leave tomorrow. Syd, don't forget about stopping in to talk with Dan Gold."
Dan Gold worked in Accounting. He was mid-twenties with a mop of light blond curls, blue eyes hidden behind light brown, oval-framed glasses, and wore black dress pants, a black, white, and blue plaid shirt, and black socks and loafers. "Hey, Syd," he said, smiling. Sydney let him know the informality was not appreciated with a quick glare, but she let it slide. "So, I've heard you're infiltrating a drum and bugle corps." When she looked surprised at his sudden security clearance, he sheepishly continued, "Director Dixon only told me that. Nothing about the name of it. I live for DCI stuff." When she looked confused this time, he finished, "Drum Corps International. You did realize that's what you're going into?"
After Sydney had sat down at his desk, Dan whipped out two pairs of drumsticks. These were slim, tapered, with white wax/nylon tips, and completely smooth, unlike the taped sticks Marshall had offered before. He handed one pair to Sydney. "Okay. So, first you're going to need to know the basic roll. Start like this." He began to tap out a rhythm with the sticks, left-left, right-right, left-left, right-right. After a moment, Sydney followed, left-left, right-right, left-left, right-right. He speeded up the rhythm so his sticks were flying. When Dan did it, it sounded like a roll, smooth and precise. When Sydney attempted the same movement, it sounded… well, unlike a roll.
They practiced for awhile until Sydney could perform the roll just as well as Dan. They went over paradiddles, flams, and basic rhythm notations until Dan was confident that Sydney could execute any drum music given to her at the Pershing-St. Clair corps. "Thanks, Dan," Sydney said as she was leaving.
Dan looked up, blushing. "It's nothing. I'm… I'm glad I could help. Sometimes it gets a little boring, just doing payroll all the time."
"Your help will not be forgotten," Sydney informed him, smiling.
He blushed again. "My mom will be so proud… I was able to teach a CIA agent something!"
