boyscout...over
Cadet
I wrote this as a christmas present for my best friend who is ALIAS obsessed. Hope you like it. More chaps coming...
Chapter One
She had finally accepted it. Vaughn was dead and had been for a few months. She could finally say it with confidence. There was no longer doubt in her mind. Why did she have to come now? Now, when she had found closure. This strange women dressed in a neat and expensive Chanel suit was talking crazy.
“Kdalmir isn’t dead. He isn’t dead,” the woman shouted. Sydney racked her mind for anyone named Kladmir. Her mind had been such a mess lately. She was hardly sure of anything anymore. It must be a case of mistaken identity so she answered
“I’m sorry miss but I don’t know any Kladmir” The calm and peaceful exterior of the woman disappeared as she leaped up from the park bench which they were both sitting upon and said
“Yes you do! You do know him!” Then she calmed down and a look of realization spread across her face.
The strange women said, “I guess you know him as Vaughn. Uhh…Michael Vaughn.” She said “Michael” funny like she had never said that name or heard it pronounced before. Sydney’s mind was no longer on CIA mode and her usual serious persona was out the window. She giggled at the mispronunciation of such a common name and then she realized what the woman had said. “What? Vaughn is alive?” Sydney stood up, shook her head, and said “No. No. He’s dead. He was shot right in front of me.” Sydney felt her knees weaken and she sat down again. “Why are you doing this to me? He’s dead!”
“No, Miss Bristow. He’s not. There is a lot you don’t about Kladmir.”
“Stop calling him that. His name was Michael Vaughn, not Cashmere or what ever the hell you keep saying!” Sydney was sobbing and screaming at the same time
“Miss Bristow please listen to me. Michael Vaughn was born with that name, Michael Vaughn, but once he converted to Hinduism, more importantly Mahatma Appalachia, He was given the name Kladmir after one of our leader’s chief advisor’s, a Russian actually.”
Sydney’s mind was swimming. This woman had to be nuts. None of this made sense but something in Sydney’s head made her want to believe no matter how outlandish the story was. It could have been true. “Well. I know you’re wrong because Vaughn was no Hindu.”
“Yeah. He hid it well didn’t he. He was no ordinary Hindu. He was a member of a very selective sect and very secretive sect, the Mahatma Appalachia. I also am a member. We don’t accept just anyone, only the best and the brightest and those with ‘connections’. Michael had all of those things.”
“No. NO! Vaughn’s loyalty was with his country not some crazy cult.”
“Vaughn aided our organization, not a cult, with his access to government documents.”
“I knew Vaughn, better than anyone else. He didn’t have a secret life. I can’t believe this. No one in their right mind could believe this.”
“Would you believe this?” The woman reached into her briefcase and held up a blurry picture of a bedraggled man holding Le Journel Le Monde, a French newspaper. Sydney did a double take. That bedraggled man was Vaughn and that newspaper was from three day ago. Vaughn, or the man who looked an awful lot like him, was bruised, bloody, and in pretty bad shape.
“What’s going on?” Her head hurt and the baby just kicked, hard. “I can’t take this!” Sydney sat there and stared straight forward for five minutes. She finally gathered her thoughts and looked straight at the woman. She could argue with the evidence and she didn’t want to. This is exactly what she was waiting for “So what else can you tell me about this Mahatma Appalachia and how I can get Vaughn back.”
The woman grinned revealing a crooked smile, “ I’m glad you’re on board but this location is not secure. Here.” She covertly slipped a tattered piece of paper into Sydney’s hand. Then the woman disappeared as quickly as she had arrived.
Sydney waited until she was home to read the paper. The whole ride home she kept repeating to herself through joyful tears, “Vaughn is alive. He’s alive.” The paper said only two things. Fourth and Freemont and 17:00.
For the past two hours Sydney spent the time debating whether or not to call her father. She knew that he could help her do whatever she needed. He had the resources she knew she would need later. She also knew he would discourage listening to this tip and looking for Vaughn. He would call it a wild goose chase that would just cause her more pain. He could be right but she had a feeling that she could not ignore. She decided to pull a Scarlet O’Hara and think about it tomorrow.
Sydney met the strange-crooked-tooth-chanel-suit-wearing-who-could-not-pronounce-Michael woman at the corner of Fourth and Freemont at the appointed time. The woman gave her all the needed details. The great leader of Mahatma Appalachia was Gandhi. He was assassinated, shot in the chest. It was always the goal of the Mahatma Appalachians to bring him back to life. It sounds crazy but they spent the last 57 years searching for something to bring him back. A few years ago they found a way to bring him back. The procedure was highly dangerous and they could not afford to cause irreversible damage to the late civil-rights leader’s body. They had to test it out on someone else first. Vaughn was a willing candidate. This was right after Sydney was presumed to be dead and he really had nothing left to live for. He would be shot dead in the same manner as Gandhi and would undergo the resurrection procedure. If it worked then he would be glad to bring Gandhi back but if it didn’t then he wouldn’t mind a bit. Things did not go exactly as planned. Sydney came back and Vaughn wanted to back out of the mission. The Mahatma Appalachians gave him the impression that he would no longer be performing the mission because he had to many ties with the secular world. The real idea was to kill Vaughn and go along with the old plan. Vaughn was left in the dark and was relieved to live his old life with Sydney. Soon Sydney was pregnant and “I didn’t want to take that baby’s father away”, the strange woman had said. It didn’t matter to the cult leaders. Vaughn knew too much and would follow through even if forced. So they shot him. They made sure to do it right in front of Sydney so that she wouldn’t look for him or dig into his past for answers. Vaughn did die that day in the hospital but was somehow brought back to life in the labs of the Mahatma Appalachia. The procedure was a success!
How did Vaughn come to be gagged, beaten, and detained somewhere with French newspapers? Find out in the next issue of Serial Alias Fan Fiction.
Chapter One
She had finally accepted it. Vaughn was dead and had been for a few months. She could finally say it with confidence. There was no longer doubt in her mind. Why did she have to come now? Now, when she had found closure. This strange women dressed in a neat and expensive Chanel suit was talking crazy.
“Kdalmir isn’t dead. He isn’t dead,” the woman shouted. Sydney racked her mind for anyone named Kladmir. Her mind had been such a mess lately. She was hardly sure of anything anymore. It must be a case of mistaken identity so she answered
“I’m sorry miss but I don’t know any Kladmir” The calm and peaceful exterior of the woman disappeared as she leaped up from the park bench which they were both sitting upon and said
“Yes you do! You do know him!” Then she calmed down and a look of realization spread across her face.
The strange women said, “I guess you know him as Vaughn. Uhh…Michael Vaughn.” She said “Michael” funny like she had never said that name or heard it pronounced before. Sydney’s mind was no longer on CIA mode and her usual serious persona was out the window. She giggled at the mispronunciation of such a common name and then she realized what the woman had said. “What? Vaughn is alive?” Sydney stood up, shook her head, and said “No. No. He’s dead. He was shot right in front of me.” Sydney felt her knees weaken and she sat down again. “Why are you doing this to me? He’s dead!”
“No, Miss Bristow. He’s not. There is a lot you don’t about Kladmir.”
“Stop calling him that. His name was Michael Vaughn, not Cashmere or what ever the hell you keep saying!” Sydney was sobbing and screaming at the same time
“Miss Bristow please listen to me. Michael Vaughn was born with that name, Michael Vaughn, but once he converted to Hinduism, more importantly Mahatma Appalachia, He was given the name Kladmir after one of our leader’s chief advisor’s, a Russian actually.”
Sydney’s mind was swimming. This woman had to be nuts. None of this made sense but something in Sydney’s head made her want to believe no matter how outlandish the story was. It could have been true. “Well. I know you’re wrong because Vaughn was no Hindu.”
“Yeah. He hid it well didn’t he. He was no ordinary Hindu. He was a member of a very selective sect and very secretive sect, the Mahatma Appalachia. I also am a member. We don’t accept just anyone, only the best and the brightest and those with ‘connections’. Michael had all of those things.”
“No. NO! Vaughn’s loyalty was with his country not some crazy cult.”
“Vaughn aided our organization, not a cult, with his access to government documents.”
“I knew Vaughn, better than anyone else. He didn’t have a secret life. I can’t believe this. No one in their right mind could believe this.”
“Would you believe this?” The woman reached into her briefcase and held up a blurry picture of a bedraggled man holding Le Journel Le Monde, a French newspaper. Sydney did a double take. That bedraggled man was Vaughn and that newspaper was from three day ago. Vaughn, or the man who looked an awful lot like him, was bruised, bloody, and in pretty bad shape.
“What’s going on?” Her head hurt and the baby just kicked, hard. “I can’t take this!” Sydney sat there and stared straight forward for five minutes. She finally gathered her thoughts and looked straight at the woman. She could argue with the evidence and she didn’t want to. This is exactly what she was waiting for “So what else can you tell me about this Mahatma Appalachia and how I can get Vaughn back.”
The woman grinned revealing a crooked smile, “ I’m glad you’re on board but this location is not secure. Here.” She covertly slipped a tattered piece of paper into Sydney’s hand. Then the woman disappeared as quickly as she had arrived.
Sydney waited until she was home to read the paper. The whole ride home she kept repeating to herself through joyful tears, “Vaughn is alive. He’s alive.” The paper said only two things. Fourth and Freemont and 17:00.
For the past two hours Sydney spent the time debating whether or not to call her father. She knew that he could help her do whatever she needed. He had the resources she knew she would need later. She also knew he would discourage listening to this tip and looking for Vaughn. He would call it a wild goose chase that would just cause her more pain. He could be right but she had a feeling that she could not ignore. She decided to pull a Scarlet O’Hara and think about it tomorrow.
Sydney met the strange-crooked-tooth-chanel-suit-wearing-who-could-not-pronounce-Michael woman at the corner of Fourth and Freemont at the appointed time. The woman gave her all the needed details. The great leader of Mahatma Appalachia was Gandhi. He was assassinated, shot in the chest. It was always the goal of the Mahatma Appalachians to bring him back to life. It sounds crazy but they spent the last 57 years searching for something to bring him back. A few years ago they found a way to bring him back. The procedure was highly dangerous and they could not afford to cause irreversible damage to the late civil-rights leader’s body. They had to test it out on someone else first. Vaughn was a willing candidate. This was right after Sydney was presumed to be dead and he really had nothing left to live for. He would be shot dead in the same manner as Gandhi and would undergo the resurrection procedure. If it worked then he would be glad to bring Gandhi back but if it didn’t then he wouldn’t mind a bit. Things did not go exactly as planned. Sydney came back and Vaughn wanted to back out of the mission. The Mahatma Appalachians gave him the impression that he would no longer be performing the mission because he had to many ties with the secular world. The real idea was to kill Vaughn and go along with the old plan. Vaughn was left in the dark and was relieved to live his old life with Sydney. Soon Sydney was pregnant and “I didn’t want to take that baby’s father away”, the strange woman had said. It didn’t matter to the cult leaders. Vaughn knew too much and would follow through even if forced. So they shot him. They made sure to do it right in front of Sydney so that she wouldn’t look for him or dig into his past for answers. Vaughn did die that day in the hospital but was somehow brought back to life in the labs of the Mahatma Appalachia. The procedure was a success!
How did Vaughn come to be gagged, beaten, and detained somewhere with French newspapers? Find out in the next issue of Serial Alias Fan Fiction.
