The tingling sensation in her legs was not only making her nervous it was just plain annoying. She'd been crouched in this position for fat too long. At the sound of approaching footsteps she readied her gun. Who else would it be? And this was payback. She was a little old for revenge to be her driving force so she told herself it wasn't about that. She didn't want to kill him. Much. At the moment. That could all change in the blink of an eye or him opening his big mouth. Whichever came first. She could all but see his face in her mind and for a moment she almost felt guilty. She repressed the feeling and as he rounded the corner she muttered underneath her breath, "Say hello to my little friend."
He rounded the corner cautiously, his weapon ready in case she'd heard him coming. He really might be losing his touch as shed taunted him just hours before. He turned the corner quickly hoping to shoot first. Better the shooter than the shootee, Irina always said. There was something that would fire Sydney up for sure. He smiled as her face came into his mind's eye. And then from out of nowhere a shot rang out from somewhere behind him and red spattered the walls around him. There was pain in his abdomen. That he could handle. The pain in his heart at the sight of Sydney there on the other side of the barell? That, he could not.
SIX MONTHS EARLIER…
"Agent Bristow, fancy meeting you here." She simply rolled her eyes at his semi-greeting. "Sark." Her tone was clipped, making it clear she doesn't want to speak. At least attempting to. "Your mouth curves such a lovely way when you say my name." His voice is lower than before, his voice close to a whisper as he leaned into her, making her shudder involuntarily. No other action from her at his comment. Disappointing, but he wasn't through. "Your nose snarls up a bit when you say Agent Vaughn's name, you know?" She whirled on him then. "Listen to me you son of a…" Her expletive was cut off as her mark walked in. "I assume we'll finish this later then." As she stood she didn't look at him to respond. "I hate you."
As she walked away, she added a little bit more sway to her walk. All for the sake of the mission, she told herself. Yeah right, a second voice in her head answered. She quickly cut it off so as to avoid admitting the second voice might be right. The mark was a man named Jimmy Bictor. There were no pictures of the man, only descriptions that started surfacing about eight or nine months ago. His defined and angular features set him apart accompanied with his green eyes and scruffy five o'clock shadow look and killer smile… Okay, so most of their descriptions were provided by women, could you tell? His tailored suit fit him well.
Weiss was there in her ear guiding her through the crowd. She wished for it to be Michael's voice but after his disappearance a little over a year ago, she'd began to give up all hope. She was realizing that she probably wasn't going to be able to find him again. The pain in her heart had lessened a bit, not enough to forget, enough to be back in the field. Here three month absence had taken its toll on her emotionally and physically. This, as always, was not unnoticed by Sark who was currently approaching her mark from another angle. She picked up the pace a little and turned slightly to beam at him as she beat him there. Her face fell immediately when she realized just who her mark was. "Vaughn?" The betrayal in her voice was as palpable as the shocked silence over the coms.