A/N: I KIND OF HIT A ROAD BLOCK ON MY OTHER ALIAS FIC "ALL THESE LIVES" AND SO I DECIDED TO START THIS ONE. I STARTED IT A LONG TIME AGO, SO HERE GOES. LET'S TRY THIS ONE ON FOR SIZE…
A thick fog of smoke and the stench of cheap bear and wine almost knocked me down as I walked through the door. It wasn't doing a thing for my headache but I had to find him. That part wasn't optional. The mission was simple really. Actually, just really simple. We had to infiltrate a lab in Tokyo and collect some information. No retrieval, no targets to take out, no heavy security. Nothing. Just simplicity. It was a level one op. And he got caught! I fight the urge to scoff out loud. They hadn't seen me, I was sure. How could they see anything through the smog?
I was wearing one of those cute little outfits men insist on making hot maids wear. You know, the most degrading things they can stick them in and still call it a uniform. Uniform my ass. The whole kit and kaboodale, complete with a gun in my apron and a knife in my boot. I heard his voice coming from the far side of the room over the clamor of the morons that called themselves guards. Men like them make my job so much easier. "I told you I'm alone you buffoon!" I fight the urge to roll my eyes. It was just like him to insult the man who could potentially kill you at any moment. "And before you ask, yes I work for myself." I heard a sickening smacking sound. They were already to the roughing up part? They hadn't even had him that long. They must have known for sure that he was lying. Which meant they knew for sure he wasn't alone.
"There's no need to lie, monsieur. I am going to kill you anyway. Why not make yourself an honest man first?" I hear him snort. I recognize the voice now. The heavy French accent could only mean one man. Thomas Killgore. Funny, his real name was Killgore. And he was very good at both parts of his name. Not so funny part? He and I had worked together during my time at SD-6. You can imagine, this isn't going to end well. I need a plan. Now.
A harsh voice beside me barked at me in French to exit the room. I nodded and set the tray down. With his head turned momentarily, I fired off a round towards the general direction of the ceiling. It had the desired effect. No one had a clue what was going on or who was shooting through the smog and the haze they were surely in. "Thomas!" I was shouting his name, fighting for his attention over his idiots on his payroll. "Syd?! Syd?! Get down, darling!" He kept shouting to me until I followed his voice to the other side of the room to him, hiding the gun in my apron again.
The smoke wasn't clinging to this side of the room and I could finally see clearly for the first time all night. I could see they had plenty of "roughing up" time. That was Thomas' favorite part as I recall. I had to get us out of here. Preferably alive.
"You?!" I was proud that my voice came out shocked as planned instead of betraying the concern I really felt. "You two know each other?" Apparently, his French accent had grown heavily over the time we had been apart. He was too predictable. He would bait. He always baits.
"I thought I killed you in London." His eyes snapped to mine.
"It's called a hospital." His comment was rewarded with a backhand from Thomas.
"So what did you do now?" I was still trying to figure out my plan. How was I going to get us out of this one?
"I almost infiltrated this idiot's laboratory." He almost had the nerve to sound proud.
"Almost only counts in horse-shoes and hand grenades. You have neither. And you managed to get caught at the same time." He nodded, visibly deflated. Good, I thought. This is his stupid fault.
"What if I wanted you to catch me?" He was looking me straight in the eyes now. He was trying to tell me something. Now if I could only figure out what that something might be, we'd be doing good. I laughed at his comment, not giving him a response just yet. "And why would that be?" Thomas interrupted me again. And then I knew what I was going to do. Finally, he looked at Thomas. "To kill you." Thomas looked taken aback. He should have expected that by now. "And how do you plan on doing that, Monsieur. Gars Dur? In case you haven't noticed, you are handcuffed to the chair you are currently planted in." He simply winked at me.
Yeah, that was definitely a cue. Sooner than Thomas could blink, I had my gun trained right between his eyes. "Let him go." The adrenaline was pumping so fast I didn't have time to think it through. I realized I was really in no position to be giving out the orders. Thomas knew it too. Hell, even his morons knew it. "Sydney, Sydney, Sydney. Did you learn nothing from our time together?" Before I knew it, I heard the safety click off of the gun that was pressed to the base of my neck. I held up my hands, gun still firmly in grip. "I don't like to be threatened Thomas." I turned and delivered a round house kick to the man behind me before he could fire off a shot. The gun went spiraling through the air and landed on the ground, the buffoon following close behind. But then more came. More always come.
Thomas had the good sense to look almost surprised and I was pretty sure the good standing I had with him was lying next to his goon on the floor in a heap. "Don't you get it? This guy is CIA, Sydney! He's working against us! Everything we worked for!" Yeah, he's definitely mad. He obviously hadn't done his homework and I planned on using that to my advantage. "I know stupid! I want to kill him myself. But my way, on my terms. That's why I'm here. I can't very well do that if you kill him now can I?" I took a deep breath, I needed to sell this because he didn't look convinced yet. I had to play his emotions. "He betrayed me in London, Thomas. He left me for dead and now I want him dead. "Fair enough." Thomas motioned to the men surrounding us and they all but fled the room.
"Have a seat." He pulled the chair out for me and I cautiously took it.
"Still don't trust me?" I smiled.
"About as much as I trust him." Thomas nodded.
"Why are you working with CIA now?" Good question.
"He's my supplier. He wanted to defect, we met in London to trade money for op-tech and weapons he steals from the CIA for a pretty penny." Thomas looked impressed.
"Underestimating me again?" I ask making him laugh.
"Alright. I want you back on my team, Syd." I fight the urge to cringe at the name.
"So does every body else." He smiled.
"I let you have him, you work for me again." Damnit! My mind is stringing together odd obscenities now.
"Alright." Thomas smiled and picked up my hand to kiss the back of it.
"Alright, mademoiselle. I will leave you to it." I shoot him a smile and then turn my attention to el stupido. He left, shutting the door tight behind him.
"That was the only way out." I nod but begin searching around the room anyway. With his life in my hands and probably about fifteen different guns trained on the back of my head, I had to think quick.
"I hate you Sark."
Monsieur. Gars Dur- Mr. Tough Guy