Author's Note: Hey guys, thanks so much for the reviews! I'm glad to see you're enjoying it!

Cheeky.

Never Broken

By cheeky-chaos

Chapter Three:

Los Angeles

I entered my small apartment with an appreciation that only the truly weary can display. It didn't matter that it was empty of all those things I had collected over a life time, or that I would never again hear the cheerful humming of Francie as she cooked some new creation in the kitchen. All that mattered was that I could finally sleep.

The entire flight home had been tense and emotionally draining. Vaughn and I had barely spoken, but we hadn't needed to. The silence between us was filled with all the things we couldn't say to each other and all the things we were too scared to. By the time we had finally reached LA again, I was sick of Vaughn's stupid forlorn look that he kept looking at me with. Once I had found those emotional eyes endearing. Now they just got on my nerves. For some reason, whatever had been between Vaughn and me didn't seem as good as I remembered it.

But that was a problem for another day. I didn't have the energy for it right now.

I dumped my stuff in my bedroom, and made my way to the fridge. I shoved a frozen dinner into the microwave (the best culinary effort I was capable of right now) and waited for it to beep. As I did, my eyes fell on the diary of Isabella Rambaldi. I still carried it everywhere with me (don't ask me why, it just felt right), but I hadn't read anything in it yet. Maybe now was the moment. After all, maybe finding a bit more about her would help.

I grabbed my dinner out the microwave and carried it into the living room, along with the diary. I absently flicked it open as I began to eat, wondering what I would find. Intrigued at the elegantly flowing writing on the pages inside, I began to read the first entry.

March 12th 1427,

I will have to be careful of my thoughts from now on. My dreaded father has once again secured the cage around me even tighter. Today, the exiled half-English, half-French lordling who is to be my bodyguard arrived. He is cold, arrogant and condescending. I hate him already.

I dreamt again of just running away. Being penniless and alone seems a small price to pay to escape from the pain inflicted by my father. Oh, to be free of it! That would be the sweetest joy in all the world.

But it must, as always, remain a secret dream. Such is my curse, for I am the daughter of Milo Rambaldi and I fear I shall never be free of him.

Isabella o

I slammed the diary shut and leapt away, as if it had suddenly turned into a snake and tried to bite me, my dinner was completely forgotten. Isabella, the woman who shared my face, was not the monster I had expected (or maybe hoped) her to be. I could not simply dismiss our resemblance as a coincidence. I could see too much of myself in her – in her yearning for freedom.

But it wasn't that thought that had made me snap the diary shut. It had been the picture sketched under her gracefully written words. The name next to the picture was Edward de L'Archier, Isabella's new bodyguard.

The face was Sark's.

I shuddered. What were the odds that we both shared faces with two people who had been close to Rambaldi? I knew Sark had never cared either way about Rambaldi, except maybe to use as leverage, but my mother did and that was enough. Sark had been Irina Derevko's protégé.

As if my life didn't have enough problems!

Beginning to feel angry that I had been sucked back into the whole Rambaldi mess, I grabbed the diary and headed to my bedroom. Maybe I could catch a few hours sleep before I had to report back to the JTF – and talk to my Dad.

The feeling of biting cold surrounded me. I had long since stopped shivering and the numbness had stolen over me hours ago. I hadn't eaten for days and time had lost its meaning. I was curled up in a tight ball and I had the surreal feeling that I had to remember something – but I couldn't put that knowledge into words.

Grimy jeans and a torn singlet clung to my now gaunt frame. Absently, I knew there had been a time when it hadn't been like this, when I knew what it was to be warm and comfortable, but it felt like a lifetime ago. Like it had happened to someone else.

There was only one thing I could remember with any clarity. Two words my captors kept repeating to me over and over again.

Julia Thorne.

Gradually, I became aware that things were changing around me. There was a sensation of heavy fabric lying across my legs and something tight was binding my chest. I realised I was now wearing a gown and corset. Strange as it was, the sensations seemed familiar to me.

I was still lying on cold damp rock and there was still the annoying drip of brackish water down the wall. Even so, I knew I was now in a different place. A different time. It was more than the clothes I now wore. It was a hundred little feelings and the instinctual feeling in my gut. Even the smell was subtly different, now with the scent of mouldy straw mixed in with the stench.

Suddenly, a door above me slammed open with a clang. "Isabella?" a gravely, yet very familiar voice called out. "Are you willing to behave yourself now?"

My back was to the man in the doorway and I made no move to turn towards him. Words spilled out of my mouth of their own violation, sounding almost lilting to my ears. "No, Father. I will not take part in your viscous games."

"I am designing a new world order!" the man bellowed, a hint of fanaticism colouring his voice. "You will play your part! I have prophesized it."

"I will never willingly take part in your manipulations." Again, the words came out on their own.

"Actually, my dear." The man said with a gleeful chuckle. "You'll be the one that makes it come true."

I bolted upright in shock and found myself back in my bedroom. My chest was heaving and I felt like I had just been running a marathon. This could not be happening to me! Groaning, I slumped back down onto my sweaty blankets and looked at the clock. 5:30 am. The green numbers flashed almost mockingly at me.

My mind struggled to accept that my dream had been anything but a twisted nightmare after reading the diary – but my gut was urging me that both parts were true. I didn't want to acknowledge that, but these were the same instincts that told me when I was about to get shot. They hadn't been wrong yet.

Sighing, I kicked of the blankets and stared at the dark place where my ceiling was. Okay, aside from the whole set of feelings that were freaked out by my vivid dream, what was it trying to tell me? I tensed as a thought struck me. Julia Thorne. What if that dream hadn't been a dream at all but a memory? What if Julia Thorne was a clue to my missing two years?

My mind shied away from the implication that the dream about Isabella could be real too. I wasn't ready to accept that yet. At least I had a clue to work on now. That was something. With another sigh, I got out of bed and headed for the bathroom. Maybe I'd feel better after a long hot shower and a large cup of coffee… but I doubted it.

I blinked sleepily as I tried to focus on Dixon's voice, a hot cup of coffee on the desk in front of me. After my very long and sleepless night, I was feeling very tired and seriously grumpy. Not to mention what my dreams had been about. And if one more person turned around and gave me a stupid sympathetic look, I was going to seriously loose it.

I had a feeling something was about to happen – something to do with Rambaldi and that diary, but for once in my life, I couldn't find the energy to care. Blinking again, I turned my focus back to the briefing.

"We've analysed the data Sydney brought back from Deveraux's computer," Dixon was saying. "The manuscript is located in a monastery in this remote section of the Himalayas."

Dixon indicated the stretch of mountains on the large screen behind him. "However, there is a problem," he continued. "The manuscript can only be read using a special chemical, much like Page 47."

I looked up sharply at that, before giving my Dad a worried look. And here I was thinking that being given Isabella Rambaldi's diary might have been a wild coincidence. Wonderful.

"The vial is currently held by MR Industries, at their high security offices in Prague." Dixon told us, ignoring everyone's speculative looks in my direction – if only I could do that so easily.

"The CEO of MR Industries, Gabriel Nicholi, is holding interviews a party to celebrate a recent technological advancement, in order to gain more wealthy clients." Dad said as he took over the briefing.

A black and white photograph of a tall man with salt and pepper hair and the hard expression of someone who always gets their way, flashed up on the screen. I put two and two together pretty quickly – I wasn't stupid. "You want me to pose as a guest." I said, more than asked.

Dad nodded. "You should be able to gain access to the secure lab where the vial is being held, once you're inside the building." He said. "According to the blueprints Marshall gained access to, the lab is located on the same floor as where the party is being held."

I nodded, my mind already getting ready for the mission by absorbing all the details, even as I wondered just how Rambaldi was going to destroy my life this time. It was then that Marshall stood up, the exuberant tech stopping my wayward thoughts. If anyone could bring a smile to my lips, it was him.

"Right, well, I guess you're wondering: how is Sydney going to get into the lab?" he began in his typical fashion, before cutting a slightly worried glance to me. "Not that you wouldn't be able to get into the lab, I mean…you're amazing…but…"

I smiled encouragingly at him, grateful that Marshall had never once doubted my abilities, even after my missing two years. So many others had. "Okay, well, the lab should be encrypted with a complex code and biometric sensors…so this is where this baby comes in." Marshall held up what looked like a makeup compact. "You've seen this before, right?"

At his question, I nodded. I had used the descrambler built into the compact many times in the past. I raised an eyebrow, though, when Marshall shook his head. "Wrong! Well, you're sort of right…anyway, thanks to my brilliance, I managed to build in some extra features on this baby. Now, as long as you can get him to touch it, the device will record Nicholi's precise fingerprints so you can use them to open the lab."

I had to smile at Marshall. He was right, he was brilliant. Without him and his devices, I think I would have run into trouble long before now. Dixon nodded at Marshall, my old partner also seemingly impressed by Marshall's ingenuity. "Weiss and Vaughn, you'll be providing comm. support. Wheels up in three hours."

I caught up with my father just after the briefing. "Dad, we need to talk." I told him quietly.

"Not here." He said. "Is it important?"

I looked at my father and noticed the genuine concern in his eyes. We may not always have gotten along, but there was no denying that my Dad was always concerned about me. Our problems always seemed to stem from how he dealt with that – Dad was willing to break all the rules if it meant keeping me safe.

Strangely, however, that willingness was becoming more and more of a comfort these days. Or maybe that wasn't all that strange considering. "Yes." I nodded.

"Do you have time for lunch?" My Dad asked, his concern deepening.

I nodded again. "I can study the blueprints on the plane."

Together, the two of us left the JTF, seemingly to enjoy a quick lunch – but in reality, we were heading back to my place so I could tell him about my interesting night. Hopefully, Dad would be able to help…otherwise I could sense a permanent vacation coming. Probably complete with padded walls.

Once we were settled around my kitchen table, coffee in hand, I got straight to the point. I simply told him about my dreams and reading Isabella's diary, and in his typical fashion, Dad didn't even blink.

"It's reasonable to assume that Julia Thorne is the identity you were using during your missing two years." He said, confirming my worst fears. "And since you can't be brainwashed, we have to conclude you were doing it willingly."

Willingly being someone else for two years? I felt a shiver of fear and revulsion run down my spine. Dad must have sensed something, because he looked sharply at me. "That doesn't mean there weren't other factors involved, Sydney." He told me. "You probably accepted the identity under duress, at the very least."

"But willingly working for the Covenant, Dad?" I shuddered again, not wanting to think about it.

"We don't know for sure if it was the Covenant that took you." Dad cautioned.

I gave my father a reproachful look. "The NSC seem to think so."

"They believe that Lazarey's killer was a Covenant operative, yes." I winced at that, never really wanting to be reminded of the fact I had killed a man in cold blood at the bidding of some very ruthless people. "That doesn't mean the Covenant is responsible for your disappearance."

"Then who is?" I snapped.

"That's something we're going to have to find out." Dad replied, shooting me a expression that almost screamed "duh!" – not that my Dad would ever say it out loud.

Changing the topic in his characteristically abrupt way, Dad pulled out a file from his coat pocket, which was hanging over the back of his chair. "I managed to find some information on Gianni Benetti."

Curious, I ignored my irritation for a second and looked at the file as Dad opened it. The photo sitting on top of the neatly typed pages was definitely the man who had broken into my apartment. At Dad's questioning look, I nodded. "That's him." I said.

"Benetti seems to be an art dealer by trade." Dad spoke as I read the file. "He claims to be a direct descendant of Rambaldi, but doesn't appear to belong to any particular group. He's had some contact with Rambaldi fanatics, like Anna Espinosa, but doesn't seem to be one."

"So what does he want with me?" I asked.

"I'm not sure." Dad answered. "But I don't think he means any harm."

I looked up sharply when he said that. Dad was one of the most paranoid men I knew – he was always warning me not to drop my guard. He raised an eyebrow at my expression. "That doesn't mean you should hesitate to shoot him." He told me.

Nodding softly, I shut the file. "So we just wait?"

Dad frowned. "Benetti will no doubt reveal his reasons in time." He said. "But until then, I suggest we focus on Julia Thorne."

"Okay." I agreed quietly.

Dad reached over and placed a comforting hand on my arm. "We will find the truth, Sydney."

I looked up and gave him a reassuring smile. "I know." I told him, but in my mind I wasn't so sure.

But damned if I was going to let anyone know that.

Prague

I straightened my skirt unobtrusively as I entered the large, gleaming office building in central Prague. The chic blonde wig I wore, combined with the short skirt of my designer dress, would hopefully get me close enough to Nicholi so I could grab his fingerprints. Smiling brightly and somewhat vacantly (an expression I had perfected over the years), I continued to walk through the lobby and towards the young men on coat duty.

"May I take your coat?" one of the young men asked politely, in Czech.

Playing to my role, I replied in French accented Czech. "Oh, thank you."

The young man smiled, and like everything else about this building, he was shiny, elegant and exuded a fake politeness. I hated that. "Please, take the elevator to the top floor." He said. "Mr. Nicholi will join you very soon."

I thanked him again and sauntered my way over to the elevators, just as one of them opened. The elevator was soon filled with men in expensive tuxedos and women in designer gowns. Gems and jewels glittered in the dim light as the small space filled with the competing scents of expensive aftershave and perfume. It was always the same.

A few of the men gave me appreciative glances, just as the women sent me hostile ones. I ignored them both, keeping the vacant look plastered on my face. I was here to do a job and I just wanted it done.

The elevator doors dinged softly as they opened, revealing the entire top floor and lab had been lavishly decorated for the party. I walked out with the other guests, before stopping slightly to one side, in order to gain my bearings. I grabbed a flute of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter, but did not drink.

"Mountaineer, what's your position?" Vaughn's voice crackled through the comm.

"I'm inside the party." I replied softly.

"Alright, the lab should be down the hall on the other side of the room." Weiss told me, after a slight pause.

"Any sign of Nicholi?" Vaughn asked as I gazed out over the sea of people.

When I noticed how many people stood (or attempted to dance) between me and the dark door on the other side of the room, I stifled a curse. Great. "No sign of Nicholi yet." I replied.

There was a small silence after my reply and I could feel Vaughn was searching for words. He wanted to say something, but I was in no mood to hear it. I cut him off quickly. "Going radio silent until I have the vial."

"Mountaineer, do you think..." Vaughn replied.

I cut him off abruptly, by switching off my comm. That was one way to deal with emotional problems. Feeling better now that I was free from Vaughn's presence, even if it had been on the other end of a radio, I walked down the few steps to the crowded room and began to make my way towards the door on the other side, pushing past people doing something that only vaguely resembled dancing.

The people mingling around the edges were almost no better and after about five minutes of struggle, I just stopped. In that moment, I really wished I hadn't left the champagne behind, because I could really have used a drink.

"Champagne?" a silky voice asked, seemingly reading my mind, as a flute of champagne was held out to me.

"Sark." I growled, but took the offered glass.

I turned to find him smirking at me in that cocky way of his. As usual, he was dressed in an expensive black suit and seemed at home amongst the glittering people at the party. "Hello, Sydney." He greeted.

Taking a small sip of champagne (if I was dealing with Sark and the mission, I had a feeling I was going to need it), I returned Sark's stare. The bubbles tickled my throat, reminding me that I hadn't tasted expensive champagne in a very long time. It might seem a little strange considering how many parties I'd been to like this in my life, but the CIA had a rather strict policy about drinking on the job.

"It seems once again, we're after the same thing." Sark said, sounding amused.

"I didn't think you cared about Rambaldi." I replied, as we fell back into our familiar pattern of verbal sparring.

Sark arched an eyebrow. "I was talking about the Covenant." He said.

Now it was my turn to arch an eyebrow. It seemed Sark wasn't happy with who he was taking orders from. "Tiring of your new masters already?" I asked.

Annoyance flickered over his features for a second, but I sensed it was not directed at me (there have been many times when it had, so I know the difference). "I prefer to choose who to work for." He answered. "And I do have standards."

The disgust I heard in his last statement surprised a small smile out of me. For a moment, I forgot he was the enemy as I realised he felt just as frustrated and used as I did. It was a moment of understanding between me and a man I was supposed to hate – yet somehow I didn't. Some instinct told me there was a lot more to Sark than most people saw.

Sark looked contemplative for a moment and I could have sworn I saw a flicker of regret cross his features. "I've often wondered what it would have been like, had you accepted my offer, Sydney." He said. Then a ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Its hard to believe you referred to me as cute."

This mood was strange as far as our confrontations went, but I didn't want to break it. It was nice – strange, huh? "Back then, I didn't realise what a sparkling personality you had." I replied.

Sark let out a chuckle as I took another sip of champagne. I considered him over the edge of the glass. He looked wearier that I remembered, like a weight was pressing down on his shoulders. "I'm not going to work for you, Sark." I said.

His smirk faded a little and I had to hold back a smirk of my own. "But I might consider it if you asked me to work with you."

A smile broke free as I watched Sark blink in surprise. I don't think I'd ever seen that expression on his face before. Taking my opportunity, I began to slip away to continue my mission. Impulsively, I turned back and toasted Sark with my champagne flute. "Thanks for the champagne."

The smirk returned to Sark's face. "You're welcome." He replied.

I watched him melt back into the crowd and felt a smile tug at my lips. Having Sark here definitely added more of a challenge to the mission, which I usually loved. But tonight was different. Somehow, Sark and I had come to a new understanding and I didn't relish kicking his ass as much as I once had. Of course, that didn't mean I was going to let him win – the people he worked for were evil after all.

I took a final sip of the champagne, before placing my flute on a passing waiter's tray. A subtle movement at the back of the room caught my eye, and I recognised Nicholi entering the room, before he moved into view by the rest of the room. The music was turned down and someone tapped on a glass.

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" Nicholi greeted in English, but I heard his faint Italian accent underneath. "Welcome to my party!"

There were some chuckles as the crowd turned to listen to Nicholi. "Tonight you will see technologies that will astound and amaze you…but first, enjoy some champagne and caviar. The night is still young!"

Another round of laughter echoed through the crowd as the buzz of conversation returned and the music got loud again. I took a moment to watch Nicholi move through the crowd and smiled when I realised how I was going to play this. Timing it well, I walked towards Nicholi and counted down silently in my head. Just as I reached Nicholi, I tripped forwards, making sure I scattered the contents of my small purse at his feet.

Acting the charming gentleman I knew he preferred to play in public (unlike the bastard he undoubtedly was), Nicholi immediately reached down to help me to my feet. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"Mon Dieu!" I said, the vacant look back on my face. "I am so sorry!"

"It's fine." Nicholi smiled charmingly at me, but his eyes remained cold. "Let me help you."

Graciously, he helped me gather up my "belongings" and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop from smiling when he picked up the compact Marshall had given me. "Thank you, monsieur." I smiled as I took the compact from Nicholi when he held it out to me.

"Be careful, now." He said. "And enjoy the party!"

"I'm sure I will." I agreed with another vacant smile – but probably for different reasons than he thought.

Once again, I disappeared back into the crowd, using the mass of people to hide my movements. Now that I had Nicholi's fingerprints, I could make my way to the secured lab and get what I came for. But it was tough going, as the crowd was worse than before and I had to stop several times to rebuff offers to get me a drink.

When I finally reached the darkened doorway, I realised that it was really the entrance to a dimly lit corridor – and not the lab itself. Glancing around to make sure that no one was paying attention to me, I slipped into the passage and hoped the boys back in the van had dealt with the security cameras. I know I probably should have checked in, but I just didn't want to hear what Vaughn had to say. I'd pay for that later – probably by getting yelled at by every senior officer in the whole CIA.

At the other end of the corridor, I came to the locked door I had been expecting. Next to the familiar keypad that I had broken through about a million times on various missions, was the biometric sensor. But thanks to Marshall, neither would take me long to break through. I quickly attached the makeup compact to the lock and waited for a breathless moment until the lock beeped green.

I slipped into the lab as quickly as I could and drew my gun from where it was hidden under my dress. At first glance, the lab appeared empty, but I did not relax. I knew just how deceiving appearances could be. Cautiously, I scanned the lab again. I didn't see or hear anyone, so I moved quickly to the case where I knew the vial was being stored.

It was empty!

I heard the ominous sound of a safety being removed in the same second I knew Sark was standing right behind me. "Once again, we seem to find ourselves in a familiar position." He remarked.

"And just like always, I'm going to win." I replied, as I calmly turned around and ignored the panic in the pit of my stomach.

Sark looked amused at my statement. "But I already have the formula." He said.

"But you don't have the location of the manuscript." I shot back and was pleased to see annoyance flicker over his face.

"Are you proposing a trade, Sydney?" he asked mockingly.

"Where would the fun be in that?" I asked him. "I think I'll just fight you for it."

The amused smirk was back on Sark's face. "I don't think that would be much fun for me, Sydney, so I'll take this opportunity to take me leave."

Growling in irritation when I realised what he was about to do, I shot him a venomous glare, but as always, Sark was impervious to it. "A little payback for Argentina, I think." He smirked. "Oh, and Sydney? If you ever feel the need to combine our…forces, the option is always there."

How is it that Sark could make that sound so dirty, yet so enticing at the same time? I wasn't supposed to be tempted by the devil.

Suddenly the alarms that Sark had triggered began to sound annoyingly through the air, as Sark disappeared out the door and presumably to whichever escape route was closest. Damn it! I'd have to move quickly, if I didn't want to be caught red-handed!

I snapped on my radio again, just as Vaughn's somewhat frantic voice yelled, "What just happened?"

"Sark triggered the alarm and escaped with the vial." I told him, sounding a lot calmer than he did – which was odd, because I was the one about to be caught by lots of men with guns.

"Sark was there?" Vaughn echoed.

"Yes." I said tensely as I ran to the lab door and locked it.

By now, I wouldn't be able to sneak back out into the party without being spotted. So I'd just have to find another way out. "Are there any other ways out of here?" I asked the boys in the truck.

"Ah…" Vaughn said.

"There should be another door at the back of the lab." Weiss said after a moment of rustling paper and tapping keys. "It leads to a small office. You could climb out the window."

Fabulous. "You do realise we're twenty floors up, don't you?" I replied.

However, even as I said it, I was already moving. It might have been a risky plan, but it was the only one I had. I'd just have to think my way out of this when I got out of the lab. It was not a moment too soon, as I could already hear thumps coming from the other door. Within minutes, this whole place would be flooded with Nicholi's goons carrying automatic weapons. Just how every girl likes to spend her evenings.

I skidded to a halt (not an easy feat in stilettos, I tell you) just inside the office and slammed the door shut. There didn't appear to be a lock, so I hooked a chair under the door handle. It wouldn't keep anyone out for long, but a few seconds might be enough to help me get away. I immediately scanned the room, spotting the window Weiss had mentioned earlier.

Running towards the small window, I opened it as far as I could and looked out. Oh, what I wouldn't have given for a parachute about now! Then I blinked, the beginning of an idea forming in my head. I turned and ran to the door to the office that opened back into what I remembered as a corridor, thanks to the blueprints I had studied.

Flinging the door open as I heard the door to the lab smash open, I ran out into the corridor and spotted what I was looking for. A fire hose. There was a fire extinguisher right next to it, and I jerked it off the wall in hurried movements, after taking a second to tuck my gun back under my dress. Not even pausing, as I knew I would have seconds before the men got through the office, I threw it at one of the corridor windows, which smashed in a shower of glass. Grabbing the end of the fire hose, I muttered a quick prayer, before leaping out the window.

Freefalling for a long moment, the sensation of rushing through the air left my stomach far behind. Suddenly I felt my grip on the hose almost slip, as the hose jerked my fall to a abrupt stop when it reached its end and I began to speed back towards the building. I tucked my feet up to my chest, feet forward and waited for the impact. It was probably a silly thing to do wearing stilettos (not the first stupid thing I've ever done, though) but I figured a twisted ankle would be easier to live with than cut feet.

I smashed into the building, about five floors below the lab, and fell through the window in a shower of glass. I let go of the hose and threw myself forward, missing most of the glass, but still managing to get myself cut. It was inevitable considering my lack of clothing, but luckily I managed to get away with only a few scratches to my arms and legs. As soon as I was past the glass, I rolled to my feet and took off in as fast a sprint as I could manage.

"Mountaineer, what just happened?!" Vaughn exploded.

"I just jumped out the window." I replied, somehow quite amused by the situation. It might have had something to do with the large amounts of adrenaline pumping through my blood.

"Where are you now?" Weiss asked, sounding like he was watching Vaughn's face turned purple.

"Around the fifteenth floor and heading for the fire escape." I answered.

Snarling in annoyance, I stopped for a second to kick of those stupid heels. I understood why I was always wearing them, given the cover they usually gave me, but sometimes I really wished for a good pair of climbing boots or something. I yanked out my gun at the same time, before bursting through the door to the fire stairs.

Sprinting and sliding down the stairs, I bolted as fast as I could, knowing from the pounding above, that my pursuers were after me. "This is Mountaineer." I snapped into my comm. "I need backup at the north fire exit!"

"Copy that, Mountaineer." Vaughn's voice was tense.

Bullets began to whiz past me, echoing as they hit the metal around me and encouraged me to pick up the pace a little. Nothing like being shot at to make you go faster. By now, I was past the fifth floor, but to my horror, more goons burst out of the door to the fourth floor, just below me. I smashed past them in their surprised hesitation, but couldn't afford to continue down the stairs. With the guards on my heels, I sprinted onto the fourth floor and headed for the other end of the building.

"Change of plans." I snapped. "Heading to the south side!"

Bullets continued to fly around me as I ran, but I was almost out of ideas. Damn Sark! He was going to pay for this next time we met!

My mind spinning in an attempt to find a way out, I realised that a river ran beside the south side of the building. It was desperate, I know, but I had run out of options. Taking a deep breath to settle my nerves, I sped up as I neared the end of the corridor, before bringing up my gun. I fired two shot in quick succession, smashing the window. With barely any hesitation, I dove straight through the window and plummeted towards the river below.

The goons skidded to a halt at the window and fired at me, but I was too far below. Seconds after diving through the window I hit the freezing water of the river below. The impact drove the air from my lungs in an explosion of bubbles. The grimy water invaded my mouth, tasting foul and I hoped there was nothing too disgusting in here.

I broke the surface, coughing and spluttering. I spat out the water from my mouth and set out for the bank, just as a van screeched to a halt in front of me. The boys had obviously seen my escape. I scrambled out of the river, shivering in the cold air and my gun still clasped tightly in my hand. "Get in!" Vaughn yelled from the driver's seat, as Weiss gave me a hand.

Sighing with relief as I slumped down on the van's floor, I heard Weiss slam the door shut above me. He offered me an old blanket when he was done. "Hey, Syd." He greeted. "Are you okay?"

I nodded. "Ready to go home."

To Be Continued…