Bloody un-fucking believable. That was the only term Sark could find to define the last couple hours. He had come to the conclusion that the CIA was starking mad.
One minute he was being beaten to a bloody pulp for something he hadn't even done, the next he was being included in some high class mission that involves Rambaldi, a CIA favorite, he had noticed.
Ah yes, he would try to keep it all fresh in his mind so he could write it down, it was so laughable. Jack Bristow and Director Dixon coming into his cell, uncuffing him and humbly apologizing. Then the Director offering him an easy out from CIA custody by just "helping out" with a mission.
Sark had of course said yes. It wasn't like he had made any other plans. For a bleak moment it had looked like he was going to die, so right now anything looked good.
And here he was now sitting on a comfortable bed in a very nice hotel, free of charge. Of course there were watchmen posted everywhere so he wouldn't escape but somehow not even that dampened his mood.
The director said that he, Sydney and Sydney's boy toy, Vaughn, were going to come to the hotel at 6:00 and discuss the details of the mission.
Sark glanced at the clock, it read 5:17. He had only been in the hotel room for five minutes or so and was still in his bloodied clothes from the previous night.
Stripping off his clothes Sark walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Once he got in he poured out a little shampoo and began massaging his aching head. The warm water felt relaxing on his skin and Sark felt like he could stay there forever.
Twenty minutes later Sark emerged from the bathroom, clean and bandaged. He pulled on the pair of jeans he had been given and was just about to put on the shirt when there was a knock at the door.
Sark walked towards the door putting on the button down shirt but leaving it unbuttoned. When he opened the door a slight smile spread across his face.
Sydney just stared at Sark, taking in his lean, muscular form. Every muscle in his body seemed to be toned to perfection and the accents of the muscles on his body suited him nicely. Wait...had she just been thinking about Sark's hot body? What was wrong with her? She had a boyfriend…sort of, what was Vaughn to her now anyways?
As all these thoughts raced through her head, Sark just stood in the door grinning. "Why are you so smug?" She finally managed to say.
"I think I have the right." He said stepping aside so that she could enter the hotel room. He shut the door to the hotel room and slowly followed her to the main part of the room, buttoning his shirt up loosely as he went. "You have to admit that things didn't turn out to shabby for me."
"Whatever Sark." Sydney was still pissed off at herself for getting Sark involved. "Just so you know I'm only here early because my dad wanted me to come at check up on you."
"That's just fine with me." Sark moved to the large glass window that overlooked downtown LA. He just stood there, hand pressed up against the glass, watching the sun slowly sink.
Sydney studied his profile as Sark stood there. She hadn't really ever seen him in normal clothes; he was usually wearing one of his many black casual suits. She decided that she liked him better in normal clothes, it made him seem more humane. Why was she thinking of him again? What was wrong with her?
Sydney quickly turned away. Sark noticing her sudden movements turned to her. He was about to ask her what was up, when there came another knock at the door.
Sydney briskly walked to the door and opened it. She found a group of people in front of her. Her father, Marshall, Dixon and a sulky Vaughn all stood there and the smell of food wafted into the room.
Sark watched Sydney move aside from the door as a parade of people entered, quickly filling up the small hotel room. He could smell food and his stomach gave a loud grumble. He hadn't eaten in a while.
"Alright people, we don't have a lot of time to go through this so I want to do it quick and efficient." Jack's sharp tone cut through the silence like a sharp knife. I suggest we continue this conversation in one of the private conference rooms at the hotel. Everyone nodded and so the great procession began.
Sark rolled his eyes as he was pushed between Director Dixon and Vaughn. They still didn't trust him not to run and it was starting to annoy him thoroughly.
Once the party reached the board room, seats were quickly taken and all attention focused on Dixon.
"Ok so here does how this is gonna go down. Sydney, you and Sark are going to be flown from LA to Algeciras, Spain. From there, you will cross the Straight of Gibraltar to Morocco via a contact by the name of Emanuel Vargas. You will be told how to reach all of your contacts aboard the plane. From the boat you will find a Green Jeep Wrangler which you will take to Algiers, Algeria. Your next instructions will be given to you at the Sofitel Alger Hotel. Check in under the name LaShapier."
"Your plane leaves in roughly a half an hour, so that will be all for time's sake." Jack added briskly. "Sark, clothes have been provided for you." With that Jack nodded to Vaughn who placed a suitcase in front of Sark.
"Alright you two, Marshall will accompany you both on the plane to Algeciras and get you acquainted with some of the gadgets he as put together. Now get going."
Both Sydney and Sark found themselves ushered down to the front of a hotel where a black SUV was parked. They were pushed into the car along with Marshall.
Jack held back Sydney for a moment. "Good luck Sydney."
Sydney smiled. "Thanks Dad." She said, shutting the door to the car.
Sark leaned back in his seat. It was all very hard to process. This was going to be one crazy trip, he could tell.