inferno

YAY mc...i am so glad i am your betaer!!!! how many words are you writing again? 5000? jeez that's a lot of words!!!! what are you writing it on? can i read it when your done? need someone to proof read? :lol: can't wait 4 the next installment!!!
 
almost to the end of my national novel writing month so i will have an update hopefully in early december. there's something about writing sark that i have missed writing the novel. it's just not as dark and complex and all. though i do have an english bad boy with bright blue eyes in my novel :smiley:
anyway, i hope to have this updated soon. thanks so much for your patience. i heart you all.

m-c
 
the next chap is here! let me know if you like where it is headed because it's kinda a twist... :smiley: please read and review

leaving on a jet plane
sydney woke up on a private jet. she had a bump on her forehead and could tell it was badly bruised. s*** she thought. she didn’t know where she was, where she was going, how long she had been passed out. she looked around. no one else seemed to be on the plane. there were no weapons, nothing that could possibly be considered a weapon was even on the plane. there was no sign of other human life. she sighed, wondering what the guy had done to her.
***
earlier that day
sark laughed to himself as he watched the plane take off. she sure wasn’t going to be happy when she woke up. he hadn’t done anything to her, though looking at her flawless porcelain skin, long straight hair and perfectly pink lips, he had definitely wanted to. she was on her way back to l.a. right now, courtesy of his private jet. of course, the pilot knew nothing of sark’s business and thought he was just flying a lady friend back home. he would be happy to tell sydney where he was taking her, and would be confused by any of her questions.
god i hope she doesn’t ask too many questions
***
“hello this is your pilot,” a voice came over the speaker. she didn’t recognize it. “i don’t know if you are awake, but i would like to let you know that we are about three hours outside of los angeles. you should be getting home right on time. hope you have a good flight.”
sydney was puzzled. did the pilot know about her, about her operation? he certainly sounded completely harmless. ignorant more like she thought. well i guess i might as well settle down. obviously i’m going to be here for a while. she had already searched as much of the plane as she could, she found nothing. no hints about who had knocked her out or what he had done to her. she sighed and plopped herself into a chair. sloane is going to kill me.
***
sark walked back into the mansion flipping his car keys around his finger. there was something comforting about driving your own car. while he didn’t mind having drivers and knew they were necessary for business, sometimes he liked driving himself. he had a whole collection of cars but he usually only drove two of them. he had a perfectly white pimped-out escalade for when he was feeling especially cocky. but he also had a rusty white toyota to remind him that he didn’t need anything fancy to be him.
irina met him as soon as he opened the door. she didn’t look happy. uh oh.
“come here,” she demanded.
sark followed her through the halls and into her office. she slammed the door behind him.
“what were you thinking?!” she asked. “you knew she had other agents with her. yet you knocked her out and sent her away on a plane. she could be seen as a traitor, could be killed!”
“please,” he scoffed. “she’s not going to be killed. dixon loves her as a partner. sloane-y boy loves her as though she were his daughter. and anyway, your dear jack would never let her be killed.”
“do not speak to me about jack bristow!” irina exclaimed.
sark smirked. he could barely believe himself. he mouthed off to irina, and now he was taunting her, smirking at her. he had become power-hungry. she wasn’t going to treat him like some employee anymore. he wanted to be equal. he knew she wouldn’t let him, but he could push for it anyway.
“what will it take for you to understand not to associate with my daughter?”
“how about partner in the operation instead of employee?” he raised his eyebrows.
she glared at him. “you can’t be serious.”
“and why not? because i’m just a baby boy? obviously i was able to keep tabs on sydney without you knowing. you underestimate me,” he replied.
“you are a boy. you never were a child so you can never make the transition to being a man,” irina said.
“is that really how you see me?” he asked.
“yes.”
it was one word. and it changed everything. sark shrugged.
“well, i’ll be out of here by morning,” he sighed.
“what?” irina asked as he turned to walk away.
“i’ll gather my stuff and be gone by morning,” he repeated.
“that’s it? you’re just going to leave?”
“what else is there for me to do here? i’ve lost the joy of the kill. there’s no more adrenaline pumping through my veins because nothing is hard enough to make my blood rush,” he explained. “and i’m obviously not going to ever have a status equal to yours, so why would you expect me to stay?”
“it seems to not matter what i expect of you,” irina said.
“hey. i gave you everything. i was fifteen years old and you taught me how to live. and i gave you everything i could in return. i’ve paid back my debts. so you can’t be expecting more from me. i’ve given you everything i had,” he replied.
“if you are going to go, just go. lancelot, however, stays here,” she said.
“it would be hard to fit him in the car with me anyway,” sark scoffed as he left the room.
***
sydney landed in los angeles. there was a car waiting to pick her up. it drove her straight to credit dauphine. without bothering with how she looked, she walked directly into sloane’s office.
“sydney,” he was sitting behind his desk. “where have you been? we have a search team out looking for you. you could have called.”
“i was knocked out by the man who stole the necklace. i woke up on a plane back here. a car was waiting for me at the airport and brought me here. he arranged everything. i don’t know how long i was out or what he did during that time,” she explained. “how did the rest of the mission go?”
“three of our men were killed,” sloane said. “ramerio, smith and tucker. we didn’t retrieve the necklace or any information about urlich or the man you saw. it was a complete failure.”
sydney sighed. “i’m sorry.”
“it’s hardly your fault. he knocked you out. there was nothing you could do,” sloane smiled. “i’m just glad to have you back.”
“it’s good to be back,” she nodded. “i’m going to go say hello to dixon.”
sloane smiled and nodded. “he will be very happy to see you, just as i am.”
***
he was really doing it. he was leaving the mansion. leaving irina. leaving home. leaving everything he knew. he had no idea what he was doing, but he refused to second guess himself. never regret, never look back; it was how he lived his life.
he began to pack. he didn’t want the clothes irina had bought him. they were ratty, baggy, teenager clothes. that wasn’t who he wanted to be. that wasn’t who he was. sark wasn’t a boy. he refused to be. he was a man. he had always been a man.
a few jeans, a few shirts, the picture of his mother, one million dollars. irina had been paying him every once in a while. if he did something exceptional and there was nothing she could get for him, she gave him money. he hadn’t spent any of it, he hadn’t had to. so over the years, he collected one million dollars from her. he packed it all into his suitcase.
slipping through the dark hallways, he went to the family room. picked the lock and slid inside. he didn’t want to leave everything. even for him, there were certain things he didn’t want to live without. irina had put up the pictures of sydney that he had gotten when he stole the necklace. he grabbed his favorite one. god, she was beautiful. sark sighed and headed back to his room.
irina watched his every move over the monitors. tears dribbled down her face. her creation was leaving. she would have to find someone else to do the work, and no one would ever be as good as he was. he never asked questions. he always did what he was supposed to do. she second guessed herself. should she tell him he could stay? that she would give him a higher position? would he stay? she shook her head. of course not. he deserved more. and she knew him, he would get more. she sighed and went to bed, hoping he might change his mind by morning.
but the next morning, at breakfast, he was gone. there was a note to urlich and garder, a note to cook, a note to irina.
irina
thank you for making me what i am. i would be nothing without you. but now, even with you, there seems to be no point to my existence. i need power. i need influence. i am a man, whether you believe it or not. i will do what needs to be done for me to live. i will get the power i need. i have money, i have skill. that’s all i need. make sure lancelot gets fed every day and ridden as much as possible. i’m on my jet, flying somewhere even i don’t know at the moment. but i will see you again.
s


hope you like

m-c
 
Oh my god I love this story! I was so excited about Sd-1.net opening back up, that I've forgotten to check back over here the last few days, so when I got here and got your PM, I was so excited to see your update. I absolutely loved this chapter. It was a bit upsetting, because now he's off on his own, but it's intriguing too. I think you wrote the emotions of Sark and Irina perfectly and vividly. I can't wait for more. ;)
 
the night club
it had been years. three years to be exact. now he was twenty-one. old enough to drink, he sometimes would laugh to himself. as though he never drank before. as though he never killed before.
but now it was different.
it wasn’t for irina. it wasn’t for urlich or garder or cook or anyone. it was for himself. in three years, he had built himself an empire. all he had was money and talent and himself. but he built a world from the ground.
the first thing he did was buy suits. not just any old suits. thousand dollar suits. fine suits. silk shirts. ties that cost more than teenager’s cars. he became who he always wanted to be.
he was sark. he was rich. he was powerful. his name was feared, respected. sd-6 knew who he was. the cia knew who he was. k-directorate knew who he was. everyone knew who he was; for he was sark.
***
she knew who he was. she even knew his name now. sark.
she was thirty years old now. she had dated danny. she had gotten engaged to danny. she had told danny about sd-6.
danny was killed.
she learned the truth. she learned of her father. she was so angry, so bitter.
***
he knew who she was. he had kept tabs on her all along. he no longer signed his notes. and they came only a few times a year. christmas. her birthday. and usually once or twice in between, when he missed her. he kept her picture by the side of his bed.
but she didn’t know that.
***
she barely remembered him. in the months without notes, he faded from her memory. until she got an unsigned card with that messy handwriting, or a gift she had always wanted, or maybe if at work his name came up: then she remembered.
she worked for the cia now. a mole inside sd-6. it didn’t make her happy. it didn’t make her feel whole. she had a handler with an arrogance issue. he seemed to think nothing she said was ever right.
she didn’t know who she could trust anymore. she didn’t trust anyone with her secrets, especially not when it came to work.
francie was still by her side. forever. will was still by her side. she began to notice things about him. she realized he was indeed in love with her, but she could never say anything, he could never say anything. she didn’t want to ruin what they had. she loved him, she just wasn’t in love with him. and what about danny?…
***
he had heard about danny. he felt terrible. he wanted to rush in and comfort her. tell her it was all going to be all right. but he didn’t.
he knew better. he sent her a note card. it was just a plain note card, unmarked except “i’m sorry” written on it in red ink. she knew what he meant. she knew why he sent it.
***
they lived separate lives, but they were both connected. she wished she knew where he was, who he was, what he was doing. she enjoyed the mystery of their so-called relationship, even if it didn’t mean anything. it did mean something though. he longed to see her face once more, to hear her voice. he missed her innocence when he had the time. but that wasn’t very often.
he was too busy. that’s the problem when it comes to having power, you have things to get done. he had hundreds of employees, thousands of contacts. he had money. he had influence. he had power.
***
“harris!” sark called from his desk.
the young man quickly entered the office. “yes sir?”
his voice quivered. his voice always quivered. he was young. he was nervous. he didn’t really understand.
“would you bring me a coffee? black?” sark asked.
“yes sir.”
the boy left. sark chuckled to himself. harris wasn’t much of a man, though he certainly wasn’t a boy. he was twenty-four years old. most people his age were getting their jobs at law firms or hospitals or schools. but he was the gopher of sark’s operation. you needed coffee, harris was your guy. you needed a soda in the middle of the night, harris was your guy. you needed a fake check cashed, harris was your guy.
he didn’t really understand the operation. he didn’t need to. he couldn’t grasp the complexity of it all. he still shook when he was in the same room as sark. he was afraid of power.
but he got coffee quickly. he set it on the desk and nodded as he walked out.
sark sipped at it. he sighed. perfect.
it was saturday. sark decided it was a day off. he sat in his office, papers in front of him, files, confidential things. but he just sat there. he stared out the window at a butterfly fluttering around his garden.
“i’m sure i’ll regret taking this day off tomorrow,” he said to himself. “but it’s so nice not to do anything today.”
***
she had things to do. it didn’t matter if it was a saturday or a tuesday or her birthday; she did her job. the bad guys still had to pay.
that saturday she was in london. she was stealing some other disk from some other guy with some other secret information on it. she didn’t care. all she wanted to do was to be home in bed; or in a bubble bath, smelling the sweet salts and aromas, completely relaxing.
so she was ready to do her job quickly. it was going to be in a night club; of course it was going to be in a night club. it seemed to her that she was forced to wear a sl**tly outfit whenever possible. but she tried to ignore it. she got surveillance set up, went over the mission again. as much as she wanted the mission to be over, she didn’t have to be in the night club until nine p.m. so she prepared herself.
***
he got on the internet, checked out what he could do that night. he didn’t find anything of interest and began playing freecell. he had a streak of ten wins before the phone interrupted him. he ignored it. harris would pick it up.
sure enough, a second later, harris burst through the door. “it is for you sir. a woman named gloria. said you were old friends.”
sark nodded and put on speaker phone as harris left the room.
“gloria babe, how have you been?” he asked. “haven’t heard from you in a while.”
“well i have an invitation for you.”
god he loved gloria’s voice. it was so sultry. it sizzled of sex. it gave him a hard-on just to hear her.
“i have a new night club. it opens tonight,” gloria said. “you’re welcome to accompany me in the vip room.”
“well this sounds promising,” sark smiled. “but if this club is so good, why didn’t i know it was opening before just now?”
“please, you are second-guessing how good one of my clubs is going to be?” she scoffed. “honeybechild if you are going to lie about being unsure, you can come up with something better than that.”
sark chuckled. “who’s going to be mixing?”
“who do you think? quick is of course,” gloria replied. “i only take the best.”
“ah yes, quick. haven’t heard of him for quite some time,” he nodded to himself. “what time?”
“it opens at eight, but no one will be there until nine,” sark rolled his head back at the sound of her voice. “you’ll be on the list. oh, and you don’t have to wait in line.”
“where?”
***
sydney was still in london, getting ready for the mission. she slipped herself into a short, spaghetti strapped, bright red dress a positioned a short black bob wig on her head. as she did her make-up, she couldn’t help but wonder who the woman was in the mirror looking back at her.
changing identities, changing looks, changing voices, accents, attitudes. somewhere she had lost track of her own identity. she didn’t have time for self-pity. it was eight forty-five.
***
the night club was only a twenty minute drive from sark’s flat. not his mansion where he worked and sometimes lived, but his flat where he spent nights by himself or sometimes with women. it was his bachelor pad, his crib.
he didn’t like spending time getting dressed up. instead, he waited until eight-fifty to turn of the t.v. to get ready. he slipped into cords and a button-down shirt and gave himself a splash of cologne. as he headed down to his car, he ran his hand through his hair the way he always did. it had become permanently messy, and he loved it that way.
he unlocked his small red audi and got inside. with music flowing loudly from the speakers, he was on his way to the club.
***
“sorry sloane put you in such a terrible dress,” dixon said quietly into his microphone to sydney. “not that you don’t look good. i just know that it is quite short and there was no reason you couldn’t have a longer one.”
“i appreciate it but i’m used to my outfits by now,” sydney replied. “i do what i have to do. sex always wins.”
dixon chuckled.
sydney knew vaughn was listening to the entire conversation. the cia had hooked her up with a mic that sent every noise she heard or said back to them. she sighed. she wasn’t so sure about the whole cia deal. she wasn’t sure it was helping much. but she shrugged it off. she had a mission.
***
sark saw her as he leaned against the second floor railing, scanning the crowd below him. she took his breath away. it didn’t matter that there was a girl standing next to him running her hands down his back, all he noticed was her. he breathed heavily and shrugged whomever was touching him off. he stalked along the railing, watching her.
she looked hot. he preferred her natural hair to the wig, but he very much liked the dress she was wearing. she was probably pissed about having to wear something so short, but she knew what needed to be done; sex always wins. he licked his lips unconsciously as he watched her.
he wished he could take her, right then, right there, in the middle of the dance floor. he watched as she pulled a tiny disk out of a man’s pocket and slipped it between her breasts. the man was so hypnotized by her, he didn’t notice anything. sark wondered what was on the disk.
sydney seemed to lose some of her innocence while she was working. she hardened slightly, was completely determined. he wanted to envelop himself in her. with a slight smile on his face, he watched her.
***
she could feel someone watching her. she couldn’t make it obvious, but she scanned the room. she didn’t see anyone.
***
he saw her scan the room. she didn’t see him but he knew she felt his eyes on her.
***
she could still feel eyes on her. she looked around once more.
***
he saw as she skimmed the room with her eyes again. he wished she would look to him, notice the second floor.
***
she looked up to the second floor. immediately she saw him.
***
their eyes locked. she gasped. he saw the surprise in her eyes. he smirked, trying not to show how in awe he was. god she was beautiful. he loved it.
***
she hated how good looking he was. she hated his arrogant smirk. she hated that she couldn’t forget those ice blue eyes. cold and calculating, yet swirling and passionate. she held them with her eyes.
***
he stared into her deep brown eyes, wanting to see more of her. not more in the physical sense – with a dress that short, seeing more of her was a hard thing to achieve – but he wanted to see her. he just wished he knew how.
***
she felt as though his eyes were staring into her soul. she didn’t know how he did it. it seemed to her that they saw every part of her, every scar, every flaw.
***
she looked flawless to him. his smirk grew into a grin. he never wanted to break the connection completed by their eyes.
***
dixon stepped in front of sydney, breaking her eye contact with sark. he was in her face and she couldn’t see sark anymore.
“do you have the disk?” he asked.
“yeah, but sark’s here,” she replied. “second floor, behind you.”
by the time dixon turned around to look for sark, he was gone.
“he was there,” sydney said. “i don’t know what he’s doing but i’m not happy about this. we have to tell sloane as soon as we get on the plane.”
***
sark knew she was on a plane somewhere over the atlantic by the time he got home. it had been so long sing he had seen her in person, and the electricity between them was so amazing. he grinned as he kicked his shoes off.
he collapsed onto his bed without even fixing himself a drink. he was too intoxicated by sydney bristow to need anything else. he sighed and thoughts of her drifted in and out of his head as he went to sleep.
god she was amazing.


hope you guys like. oh and i am on vaca for about 10 days so it will be a while before the next chap is up! sry but i'll be having fun in hawaii :smiley: please read and review and i should have the next chapter up by christmas.

m-c
 
Excellent update...it seems like you're taking the story in a different direction, I'm looking forward to seeing what happens next. ^_^
 
okay okay. i'm really sorry, and i know that i always seem to be saying "the next one is right around the corner" but this time, it's for real. i messed up with the chapter sending it to the beta-er last time. this time, i have sent three chapters (one of them is actually a double chapter in itself). so as soon as they are beta-ed they will be up. i'm working on the fourth chapter right now too. the story sort of took a swing in one direction, but i realized i didn't want to lose the character of irina. so a lot of things change. just stuff to think about.
sark watched as a man approached sydney. he looked like sleaze from the second floor; his hair greased back, his shirt unbuttoned most of the way down his chest. sark watched sydney scoff at whatever absurd pick-up line the guy had used. she quickly sent the man on his way. but as soon as he was gone, another one walked up. sark chuckled to himself.
as sydney fought off guy after guy, he made his way to the first floor.
thought you might want to see it because i feel badly.

m-c

soon i swear!
 
finally!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! here you guys go! my computer's being crappy so i'll try for a pm but i don't know if it will work. thank you so much for being patient with me!

“i’m telling you, something was off. i don’t know why sark was there, but i’m sure he will be there if we go back!” sydney exclaimed.
“no! i do not think that is a good idea,” jack argued. “as you said, you don’t know why sark was there. sending you on a mission serves no purpose if we don’t know what we are doing. send someone else, someone more low-key, just to gather information.”
“no jack, i think sydney’s right,” sloane’s voice crawled through the air. “i think this mr. sark is dangerous too, but i know sydney can handle it. i’m sending her back.”
***
“sydney this is not a good idea,” jack said on their way out of the office.
“yeah?” sydney kept her voice low. “well, neither was allowing me to be recruited into sd-6 and letting me think they were actually the cia for seven years.”
“sydney,” he looked hurt. “you know that i would have done something if i could.”
“no. you could have. you didn’t. we all have to make choices. i see yours,” she replied.
she slammed her car door shut. ignoring her father’s protests, she drove out of the parking garage.
going back to her friends always helped her in times like these. they made her life seem almost normal. almost.
***
“bloody hell harris! this shouldn’t be taking all day,” sark called.
the nervous twenty-four-year-old kid entered the room quickly, the tray he was carrying clinked together he was shaking so much.
“i - i’m s-s-sorry sir,” he stuttered.
sark chuckled and took a sip of his coffee. “it’s fine. tell jonas i want to see him would you?”
“yeah – i-i-i mean, yes sir,” harris replied, leaving the room.
jonas was sark’s eyes. he was everywhere, he saw everything sark wanted him to see. jonas had informats and spies, and could tell sark anything he needed to know. sark liked to check in with jonas every once in a while even if he didn’t really need it, just to keep up with what was going on.
“you wanted to see me sir?” jonas stepped in.
“ah jonas! so good to see you,” sark smiled. “come in. sit down. can i get you anything?”
“no thank you sir,” jonas replied.
“so what’s going on in this outside world jonas? anything i should know about?” sark asked.
“well actually sir, yes. a cia double agent inside sd-6, sydney bristow, saw you that night in the club. word is that sd-6 is sending her back to find out more information on why you were there. you know how little most organizations know about your organization. her seeing you could put an end to that,” jonas explained.
“we can cover it up, no problem. when is she coming?”
“she and her partner made an appointment with gloria under the names evelyn rossiter and george hanson,” he replied. “tomorrow afternoon. they are fronting as an organization interested in helping to finance the new club.”
“good. anything else?”
“not of any importance sir. i’ll keep you updated,” he said.
“thank you jonas.”
“thank you sir,” jonas nodded and left the room.
“so,” sark said aloud to the empty room, “sydney bristow is back for more, is she? well, i’ll give her more. she doesn’t want to learn about the club, she wants to learn about me. this could get interesting.”
***
later that day, sark called gloria.
“darling what did you think?” she asked. “did you like it?”
“i loved it. in fact, i’m coming back tomorrow,” sark replied. “tomorrow you have an appointment with evelyn rossiter and george hanson. call them to tell them you can only allow one of them to tour your club and see everything for security reasons.”
“why?”
“they are not interested in your business, they are interested in mine. and i want to play a game with them,” he grinned. “when i come tomorrow, i want you to call me jacques pierre.”
“you want to f*** this girl do you?” gloria asked.
sark scoffed. “what makes you think that?”
“you’re going to get all handsome, put on some cologne, act all rich. you are going to be arrogant and sarcastic and you think she’s not going to be able to resist you,” she replied.
“please gloria. this is business. and i thank you for helping me with it.”
after sark hung up the phone, he thought for a moment. f***ing sydney bristow wouldn’t be in the least bit bad, though for now, he had to focus on business.
***
“sydney, be careful,” vaughn said. “this could be really dangerous.”
he picked up a bag of chips from the rack. sydney stood next to him looking at chex mix.
“please vaughn, it’s not like my other missions aren’t just as dangerous,” sydney replied.
“look,” he brushed her shoulder with his hand as he passed to get a candy bar, “we don’t know anything about this sark guy, and that is never good. we just want to make sure you don’t get hurt.”
sydney smiled slightly. “i’ll be fine. i’ll see you when i get back.”
***
“syd, are you sure you are okay going in there alone?” dixon asked.
“i’ll be fine,” she replied. “i’ve done this before, you know?”
dixon chuckled. “i know. just be safe.”
“always.”
sydney headed into the club.
it was a nice club, she had noticed that when she came the first time. it had a good bar, good music, good structure for a club. she just wondered what sark had to do with it.
sydney spent the next hour chatting with gloria ruben about the club and how it got started. when she felt gloria was comfortable enough, sydney brought up sark.
“well we have heard that you are working with mr. sark, that he is helping finance this. is that true?” sydney asked in a sweet austrialian accent.
“i don’t know a mr. sark,” gloria lied.
sydney knew that wasn’t true, but she was careful as she continued.
“let me see,” she dug through a file. “i’m sure i have a picture of him somewhere. ah, here it is,” she said, pulling a picture out. “isn’t this man helping you with your club?”
“oh him?” gloria smiled. “that’s jacques pierre. yes, he has put a lot of money into this club, as well as some of my others. he’s coming here tonight if you would like to speak to him.”
“really?” sydney asked.
“yes. he loves this place,” she replied.
“well i can’t see why he wouldn’t. i believe i have all the information i need from you. i will talk to my employer to see what he thinks about helping to finance this. also, i shall be back tonight to talk to mr. pierre.”
“i will see you then,” gloria smiled.
***
“dixon, sark is coming back tonight,” sydney said as she got into their car. “he is under the alias of jacques pierre. ruben says that he has helped finance numerous clubs of hers. we should stay for tonight.”
“i agree. i’ll call sloane.”
***
sark smirked at his reflection. gloria was right; he had gotten all dressed up. he had taken a shower and shaved before he put his clothes on. he let his hair dry in a mess that, with his outfit, made it look like he was so rich it didn’t matter if his hair was sticking up or was coming out his ears, he would still be smokin’ hot. he wore a white silk shirt with a loosened black tie and black pants. he had spirtzed himself with cologne. of course he picked out his hottest car to drive to the club. he was planning on turning heads.
***
sydney was ready to turn heads. just because evelyn rossiter was a quiet yet ambitious aussie didn’t mean she wasn’t wild.
sydney wore a yellow, very low-cut top, and tight lace-up jeans. she had kept her natural hair for evelyn, and wore it down in wavy curls flowing over her shoulders.
dixon raised her eyebrows as she came out ready to go.
“you are going to see a man we don’t know anything about dressed like that?” he asked.
“sex always wins dixon. as much as i don’t like putting myself on display like a new car, it gets the job done. and getting the job done is what i am doing,” sydney replied. “don’t worry about it. you’ll be in the club with me, and we’ll have radio contact. it is going to be fine.”
dixon shrugged and let it go. he knew sydney knew what she was doing, and even if he didn’t think it was the right way to get things done, she would get them done.
the partners headed to the club.
***
sark had arrived early so he could talk to gloria. she had told him that it seemed to be nothing special, though sydney was obviously more interested in sark than in the club. sark thanked gloria for her help and stood on the second floor, watching the door, waiting for sydney.

as they pulled you out of the oxygen tent
you asked for the latest party
with your silicone hump
and your ten inch stump
dressed like a priest you was
tod browning’s freak you was

sydney entered the night club. her eyes immediately went to the second floor, expecting to see sark.
he saw her first and stepped calmly out of view. he saw as she swore at him under her breath, knowing he was there somewhere.
as sydney scanned and rescanned the crowd, sark took the time to appreciate her outfit. her shirt was cut down nearly to the belly button – very unlike sydney bristow sark thought. his gaze fell on her pants. they were so tight, they hugged every curve, he could see every fluctuation of every muscle. it made his mouth water and his pants buldge slightly.

crawling down the alley on your hands and your knees
i’m sure you’re not protected, for it’s plain to see
the diamond dogs are vultures and they hide behind trees
hunt you to the ground they will
mannequins with kill appeal

sark watched as a man approached sydney. he looked like sleaze from the second floor; his hair greased back, his shirt unbuttoned most of the way down his chest. sark watched sydney scoff at whatever absurd pick-up line the guy had used. she quickly sent the man on his way. but as soon as he was gone, another one walked up. sark chuckled to himself.
as sydney fought off guy after guy, he made his way to the first floor.

(there they come)
i keep a friend serene
(there they come)
oh baby, come unto me
(there they come)
well, she’s come, been and gone.
come out of the garden, baby
you’ll catch your death in the fog
young girls, call them diamond dogs

sark thought of sydney when she was younger. he wondered if she had always had to put up with digusting guys drooling over her. probably he thought to himself as another guy approached sydney.
this one seemed particularly difficult to get to leave. sark started toward them. sydney was repeatedly telling the guy to go away, but he didn’t seem to understand. he grabbed her by the waist.
sark yanked the guy off of sydney by the back of his shirt. he punched him in the face.
“what the hell man?” the guy exclaimed, clutching his bloody broken nose.
“keep your bloody hands off her,” sark growled. “she said no.”
“jesus,” the guy muttered, making his way through the crowd toward the exit.
sark turned to face sydney. she grabbed him by the balls, hard. he gasped and swallowed hard.
“good to see you too love,” he groaned.
“what the hell was that?” she asked, tightening her grip.
to tell the truth, he had no idea. as soon as that guy put his hands on sydney, sark was unable to control himself. he didn’t know why.
“i – ” he bit his lip in pain. “i apologize. i won’t do it again. obviously you need no help when it comes to hurting men.”
she let him go. “that’s right. i don’t.”
he let out a breath, his crotch still searing with pain.
“do you really think that was necessary?” he asked.
“let’s go into one of the private rooms and talk about it,” she replied.
“sydney that’s not a good idea,” dixon’s voice was in her ear.
“i’m turning you off,” sydney said and went radio silent, turning off her microphone and ear piece.
“dixon or vaughn on the other end of that?” sark smirked.
“get us a private room,” she demanded.
“you do know what those are actually for right?” he asked. “sex. orgies and such. and that sort of thing might be tough to do after that painful grip.”
“let’s go.”
she faked to go for his balls again and he jumped back.
“all right. let’s go,” he chuckled.
he offered her his arm; she ignored it and pushed her way through the crowd. he shook his head laughing and followed.
“gloria!” he exclaimed as he saw her.
“jacques,” she grinned.
he kissed her on the cheek.
“we need a private room,” sydney cut in with her austrialian accent. she paused. “please.”
gloria looked at sark with a mischievious grin in her eye. “i’m sorry. we only give private rooms to couples or groups who have been dancing together. i haven’t seen either of you on the dance floor, much less together.”
“surely you could make an exception for a potential help with finances,” sydney said.
“jesus sydney. stop being evelyn. she knows already,” sark rolled his eyes.
“she still called you jacques.” sydney glared at him knowing of course that it wasn’t his real name. she looked back to gloria. “do we really have to dance?”
“for at least one song,” gloria nodded.
sydney took a deep breath and yanked sark onto the dance floor. she closed her eyes and started to dance.

in the year of the scavenger
season of the b****
sashay on the boardwalk
scurry to the ditch
just another future song
lonely little kitsch
there’s gonna be sorrow
try and wake up for tomorrow

at first, sark could only watch. her hair flipped around her arms as she moved. her hips swayed and her pants showed it all. the buldge returned to sark’s pants. he forgot about the pain from her previous grasping episode. he took a step toward her and began to move with her.
he pulled her in by the hip. she turned her head and glared at him, but she kept moving. he held her close enough that she could feel his erection. when she noticed it, he felt her stiffen, but she never stopped dancing.
as soon as the song ended, sydney pulled away and headed back for gloria.
“happy?” she asked, this time with no austrialian accent. “can we have the room now?”
“of course. follow me,” she said.
gloria led sydney and sark into the back of the night club and up a tight spiral stair case to a room.
“it’s the most private,” she explained as she unlocked it.
“thank you love,” sark grinned.
“anything for you.”
sydney rolled her eyes and stormed into the room. sark followed slowly, closing the door behind him.
“who the hell are you?!” sydney exclaimed. “what does your organization do? why are you so f***ing obsessed with me?”
“settle down. have a drink,” he suggested, pouring himself a scotch.
“i’m not thirsty,” she said.
“not even after that dancing?” sark asked. “that was quite a workout.”
“it was one song and i only did it because i had to, you sick son-of-a-b****,” she replied.
“that’s not a very lady-like way to act,” he chuckled.
“being lady-like isn’t what i’m worried about,” she pulled out a gun. “tell me about your operation.”
sark smirked and sat on the edge of the bed. “put away the gun love. you don’t need it.”
“no witnesses. i could claim self-defense,” she said, cocking the hammer.
“please,” he shook his head. “just put it down and let’s talk like normal people.”
“you think you’re normal? you’re not normal. you’re evil,” sydney spat at him.
“oh and what, you’re normal? you have a dad who was never there for you because he was working as a double agent for the cia. you are now a double agent for the cia. you lie to your friends everyday. your fiance was killed because of your job. people are watching you all the time because of what you do. i am watching you all the time. and that dance a little while ago was the closest thing to sex that you have had in months. that’s not normal,” he replied.
“what’s your name?” sydney asked, keeping the gun trained on his left eye.
“you already know that,” he said, sipping at his drink.
“i know sark. what is your first name?”
“i don’t have one,” he stated simply. “i’m just sark.”
sydney glared at him. “what name did your father give you?”
“i do not have a father!” he exclaimed.
“hit a nerve did i?” sydney smirked. “why don’t you want to tell me about daddy dearest?”
“he was a disgusting excuse for a man. he wasn’t worth s***. i regret not killing him the first time. i wish i could apologize to my mother and sister for making them take care of him for so long before i got rid of him,” sark explained without thinking.
“you have a mom and a sister do you? and you killed your father? you sound like a great guy,” she replied.
sark sighed. “i’m not going to tell you anything, love. take me into custody if you feel the need to, that won’t help in the least. my organization has mechanisms so it will run smoothly without me. plus, if you take me into custody, you’ll either have to hand me over to sd-6, or you’ll have to tell dixon that he’s not really working for the cia. neither seem like very good options.”
“i could always kill you,” sydney said.
“what would that accomplish?” he asked. “you would still have no information on my organization. it would continue without me, only then you wouldn’t know who was in charge of it. plus, i have information – not regarding my organziation, but other information – that may be of interest to you.”
“what is this information regarding?” she rolled her eyes.
“your mother.”

hope you like. please review.

m-c
 
Excellent chapter! I loved the Sarkney scenes, the way they effect each other. The dialogue was fantastic too, very believable. And I have to say, my favorite part was when Sark was getting ready to go out...preening and perfecting his appearance, it's such a Sark thing to do!!! :D
 
i'm sorry. i have the next chapter edited and everything but i am having major computer problems. both computers at home with access to the internet have spyware so my dad had to take them to get "blown up" where basically the tech guys just wipe everything out. so the fic is saved on a zip drive and in one or two days i should be able to get this up. sorry. luf you guys.

m-c
 
No problem acting_chica, trust me, I feel your pain. I have a laptop and a desktop and it seems like there's ALWAYS something going wrong with one or both of them. :banghead:
 
ta-da!!!! don't worry, even though i haven't been updating, i've been writing, so as soon as meg can beta them i can get them up. here's the next chappy! hope you like

the kiss
sydney looked at him. she tried not to show her surprise in her eyes. instead, she showed disbelief.
“why should i believe anything that you tell me?” she asked.
sark smirked. “what else are you going to believe? please don’t tell me you seriously think that your mom was laura bristow. you do know the truth right?”
“my mother was laura bristow. irina derevko was not my mother,” sydney replied defiantly. “laura bristow died in a car accident probably before you were born. what information could you possibly have on derevko anyway?”
“well, you know she didn’t actually die in the car accident. you were smart enough to figure that one out for yourself. instead, she’s still living, breathing, working. she picked me up off the streets when i was 15, offered me a job. she taught me everything i needed to know about life, made me who i am today,” sark explained.
“so what? you are saying that derevko taught you what you know about life? murder, hatred, greed?”
“loyalty, protection, perseverance, power, pain, love, sex, death,” he replied. “she amazes me. you amaze me.”
“why should i believe you?” she spat. “you’re a criminal, a pathological liar.”
“well you know she was kgb, you know she didn’t die in the accident, who’s to say she didn’t raise me? urlich wasn’t the leader of the operation in ireland. irina was,” sark said. “i don’t care whether you believe me or not…you’re a lot like her you know? you’ve got her angry, nervous swallow. you’re stubborn. you get a look like you are shooting bullets at people when you are mad at them. just like her.”
she glared at him.
“see? that look. just like that. irina has that,” sark chuckled.
“i am nothing like irina derevko. irina derevko was an evil, opportunistic woman who did awful things to people whenever she could. i am not her,” sydney replied.
“you’re right. you are sydney bristow. you aren’t irina derevko. i’m just saying you are like her,” he shrugged. “i think irina would agree.”
“i’m taking you into custody.”
before she could continue, sark chuckled.
“would that be cia custody or sd-6 custody?” he taunted.
she answered by pulling out a cell phone and dialing.
“vaughn, i need you to send an agent from london to my location. i’m bringing in sark,” she said. “i can’t do it myself, i’m with dixon.”
sark laughed to himself as she finished the phone call. he smirked at her when she hung up.
“who’s to say i won’t tell sd-6 you are a double agent as soon as i get a chance?”
“who’s to say i won’t shoot you in the crotch?” she retorted.
“harsh,” he chuckled. “fine. i’ll go with you willingly into custody. it’s not like you are going to get anything from me. it’s not like my operation isn’t set up to run without me…hey, just a question, why did you call agent yawn instead of your father? do you fancy that lifeless lump of an excuse for a man?”
“as though you are more of a man that vaughn,” sydney scoffed.
“you didn’t answer my question,” sark smirked.
“i called vaughn because my father didn’t approve of this mission in the first place,” she replied. “and no, i don’t ‘fancy’ him. he is boring and arrogant.”
“handsome though, isn’t he?”
“shut up before i shoot you.”
“i’ll take that as a yes,” he chuckled.
sydney just rolled her eyes. it wasn’t like anything she was going to say was going to help anything. sark sat at the edge of the bed and twiddled his thumbs in his lap, smiling to himself.
“are we allowed no conversation?” he asked after a few minutes.
“i have nothing to say to you,” sydney replied curtly.
“maybe you could tell me your likes and dislikes. you know, just so i knew what not to do so i didn’t bother you,” he suggested, smirking slightly.
“i don’t like arrogant british f***s. i like silence,” she snarled.
sark chuckled. “you have a wonderful bedside manner. do you always try to be so difficult?”
“i just don’t like socializing with terrorists.”
“i’m not a terrorist. i don’t attempt to instill terror in others. i have never killed – or hurt for that matter – any innocent person, plant or animal. in this business, you get what’s coming to you,” he explained.
“then i guess you’ll be getting yours.”
someone knocked on the door. sydney immediately opened it.
“vaughn? what are you doing here?” she asked. “why aren’t you in l.a.?”
“we weren’t sure about this operation in the first place. your dad convinced devlin to send someone,” vaughn replied. “however, jack wasn’t too happy when he found out i was the one being sent. i think he finds me incompetent.”
“i wonder why,” sark chuckled to himself.
the other two pretended not to hear sark’s comment. vaughn looked at sydney and took a step back, a slight smile on his face. sydney tried not to blush when she noticed he was looking at her outfit.
“well come in,” she interrupted his stare. “this is sark. still no first name. seems to have information about my mother.”
vaughn’s eyes widened. “really?”
“he says she raised him from fifteen on.”
sydney grabbed vaughn’s handcuffs and headed over to cuff sark. he stood and grabbed her, accosting her with a kiss.
***
the kiss was deep and passionate. he opened her mouth with his tongue and explored inside. she tasted so good.
***
she was surprised when he kissed her, but somehow she didn’t fight him off. she even let his tongue coax her mouth open. he was such a good kisser.
***
vaughn could not believe his eyes. after watching, dumbfounded, for at least ten seconds and seeing sydney make no effort to pull away, he stepped in. pulling sark off, he sent him flying across the room.
***
“what the hell was that?” sydney regained her composure and screamed at sark.
“well if you are going to send me to prison, i thought i should get one last thrill,” he smirked. “by the way, do you really want to be pulling me around in handcuffs? a little too obvious, don’t you think?”
vaughn grabbed him and stuck a gun hard into his ribs.
“one move and i will blow you away,” he threatened. “one wrong step.”
sark smirked. he kept his voice low, so sydney couldn’t hear.
“that was a hot kiss, huh? she’s a damn good kisser, bet she’d be good in bed too. what i would give to – ”
vaughn hit him in the ribs again with the nozzle of the gun. “shut up or i’ll kill you.”
sydney tried to ignore the interaction between sark and vaughn. she could only imagine how sark was taunting him. she didn’t want to be involved. but then she thought of something.
“wait vaughn. i’ll have to explain this to dixon,” sydney paused. “you need to shoot me.”
“what?” he looked at her. “no.”
“just a graze though. and punch me. in the face or something.”
“if i was trying to get away, i would try to hurt her,” sark nodded. “i wouldn’t hit you with my hands though.”
he said the last comment as though the thought were absurd, as though he would never think to hurt her in that manner. she rolled her eyes.
“always a gentleman,” sydney scoffed.
“graze her. break a chair over her leg after you shoot her there. or give her a bruise on the head and she can say i knocked her out,” he suggested.
“why are you trying to help?” she asked.
“going to jail, might as well cooperate and make a few friends on my way,” he shrugged.
“vaughn, just hit me in the head,” she said.
“i can’t. i mean, can’t you just fake it?” vaughn sighed. “if he hit you from behind there wouldn’t be a noticeable bruise.”
“fine. whatever. just get him out of here. i’ll see you in l.a.”
“good luck.”
vaughn dragged sark out the back door of the club to a car. he made sure to be as rough as possible, still bitter about the kiss. sark just chuckled and smirked, loving how easily he could anger vaughn and sydney. he loved to provoke sydney, loved to see her cheeks flush red, lovd to hear her swallow angrily the way her mother did.
sark was surprised about the kiss with sydney. she had kissed back, rather strongly. and god she was good. he remebered when he first kissed irina thinking no kiss could be better than irina’s passion kiss, but sydney’s was. it blew him away.
***
sydney returned to dixon. she had turned her radio back on and said sark had hit her in the back of her head, knocking her out for just a while, but nonetheless, he had escaped. dixon, being the perfect guy he was, believed her and was waiting for her worried.
“are you okay?” he asked.
“yeah,” she replied, rubbing the back of her head in fake pain. “just let’s get outta here. i’ve got one hell of a headache.”
dixon nodded and ushered her out of the club. he called sloane and made all the arrangements for a night in a hotel instead of a plan ride back; it was for sydney’s case of course, he didn’t want her injured in the least and neither did sloane.
***
for the entire ride back vaughn glared at sark like an animal. sark’s hands were handcuffed, and he was also handcuffed to the seat. vaughn did it in a way so sark had a very hard time getting comfortable. all the while, vaughn just glared at him.
“seriously, are these handcuffs necessary? what am i going to do to you on your own plane, with your own pilot, when i am not armed and you are?” sark asked. “i can’t do anything, handcuffed or not.”
“you’re staying handcuffed,” vaughn said, trying to accomplish the “and that’s final” sort of tone.
“oh iiii seee,” sark dragged out the words, chuckling to himself. “you are angry because i kissed sydney. you are angry because i had the balls just to grab her and kiss her. you wish you could do that. you wish you could muster up the balls to kiss her. but you’re worried. ‘what if someone finds out? i’d lose my job. she’d lose her job. if sd-6 found out, we could both be killed.’ so you’re too worried to kiss her. and that sexual tension between you two that has no way of being resolved is just building and is getting so huge it might explode. but you still don’t have the balls to kiss her.”
“i’m her handler. that sort of relationship isn’t allowed to begin with,” vaughn attempted a scoff and rolled his eyes.
“doesn’t mean you don’t want it,” he smirked. “i bet you’d love to really be her ‘handler.’ i mean, have you taken a look at the woman? those legs, those arms, the perfectly flat stomach, her breasts, her arse; mmmm. she radiates sexuality, confidence, power. yet at the same time, she’s so innocent. it just makes you want to throw her down and take some of that innocence. to ruin it, to make her naughty. to – ”
“shut up!” vaughn screamed.
“touched a nerve did i?” sark raised his eyebrows, still smirking, proud of himself.
“f*** you. f***. you. you realize she despises you, right? that she would rather kiss arvin sloane than kiss you,” vaughn replied.
“she called you boring.”
he knew it was a seventh grade way to fight. to gossip. ‘she said this about you’ type fighting. it was absurd, but he couldn’t hold himself back.
“and she said you were arrogant. it was hard for me not to laugh at that. i guess you must really be trying to appear self-confident around her. it’s working. i mean, she doesn’t see you for the bumbling idiot that you are. i can just see you in her presence, stuttering, slurring words,” he laughed. “but if she thinks you’re arrogant, that must mean you are putting up a pretty good façade. very good actually.”
vaughn tried to ignore sark. sark was right. vaughn wasn’t self-confident, especially when it came to sydney. all he wanted to do was – no, no. he couldn’t do it, so it didn’t matter what he wanted to do. it didn’t matter. all that mattered for the moment was bringing sark in. taking him to the cia. putting him in a cell. a tiny tiny cell. leave him to torture himself with his own thoughts. that’s all vaughn could think about. he needed to forget the kiss. it meant nothing to sydney, he knew that. he knew that she had hated it.
***
sydney couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss. she had liked it. she had really liked it. he was an amazing kisser. it had been the best kiss of her life. she hated him, but she couldn’t deny his good looks, his sexuality. she could still taste him on her lips, could feel his hands pulling her into him. she could have sworn she felt an erection on her inner thigh, but she couldn’t be sure. of course, she didn’t doubt it; when they were dancing his hard-on was quite obvious, and she hated herself even more for the fact that feeling his hard-on pressed into her while they were dancing had turned her on. it gave her the shivers to think about him, but she couldn’t stop.
while she was safe in her bed, single frames of the kiss and then more – she and sark in bed, on a counter, a table, over a desk – flashed through her dreams. even in her subconscious, it was the best kiss/sex/feeling she had ever had, but she hated that it was with him.
***
sark was shelved for the night in a new york safehouse – it was too late to make it all the way to l.a. and the cia was comfortable knowing he was in their custody at their safehouse. so sark was thrown – literally thrown, by vaughn of course – into his six-by-six cell with a concrete bed that would be his home for the night.
as he lay flat on his stone bed and closed his eyes, he only saw sydney. flickers of their kiss, of her gun leveled at him, of her in the woods when he was practising his shot [to long ago to return to?], her freckles, her eyes, the dancing, the bare skin she had showed.
he slept almost the entire night with an erection – which still hurt slightly from sydney’s grip. he saw in his mind scenes of raw sex with sydney – a bed, a table, a counter, a desk, a cold tile floor, an airplane bathroom, the back of his escalade, at the movies, anywhere.
even in the dreams, it was the best kiss/sex/feeling he had ever had, and he loved that it was with her.


hope you like. please review

m-c
 
Ug..stuff with Agent Vaughn...but you actually made it worth reading because you portrayed him as the cowardly whiney jack@ss that he is. ;) And a Sarkney kiss *sigh* I'm always a fan of those. Now hopefully Sark will break out of the safehouse, go find Syd and they can live out those tabletop, desk, and counter fantasies! :P Great update! I can't wait for more! 👍
 
Hehehe :naughty:

Sarkney kiss=nIcE!!!

Want... more... now... (Of sarkney of course ;))

Damn Vaughn... did he really have to break that kiss up? :rolleyes:

Thanks for the PM, great update! :smiley:
 
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