Agent Michael Vaughn. CIA.
Vaughn was now looking over the FBI report on Rambaldi’s Prophecy. The woman here depicted ... will be the one to bring forth my works, bind them with fury; a burning anger. Unless prevented, at vulgar cost, this woman will render the greatest power unto utter desolation. This woman, without pretense, will have had her effect, never having seen the beauty of my sky, behind Mount Subasio. Perhaps a single glance would have quelled her fire. It had to be Derevko. Who else had gone after Rambaldi with such a vengeance? But how could Derevko be the woman in the Prophecy? It didn’t look like her. It looked like Sydney, exactly like Sydney.
My sky. Sydney saw the sky, but Rambaldi’s sky? Mount Subasio.
Before Vaughn even knew what was happening, he was on a plane to Italy. Assisi. He didn’t know why he was going there. But if Sloane and Derevko were after Rambaldi, this all had to relate back to the Prophecy. It was the only way Sydney could fit into their plans. For some reason he thought Mount Subasio held the clue.
Marshall Flinkman. CIA Op-Tech.
Marshall was once again spelunking on the CIA network when he found a network intrusion. He raced away from his desk. “Director Kendall? Uhh…Director Kendall, sir??” Marshall hadn’t seen him yet, but kept repeating the name. Finally, Kendall turned away from a group.
“What is it, Marshall?” Kendall said, exasperated.
“Well, uhhh, sir…I was just checking out this…uhh…spam message that I got…trying to reinforce the CIA’s blocking system…and…uhh…”
“Marshall get to the point!” Kendall snapped.
“We’ve had another intrusion sir. An e-mail. Says it’s from Agent Bristow.”
“Why didn’t you say that Marshall?” Kendall yelled, taking off at a run.
All I did was try and tell you! You don’t have to snap at me! Oh, yeah...Sydney.
Marshall took off after Kendall.
Agent Carley Phillips. CIA.
Carley was sitting at her desk when commotion exploded around the tech center. She turned to the agent next to her. “Hey, Al. What’s going on?”
Al looked up at Carley. “Oh, some e-mail sent in from outside the network. Supposed to be from Bristow.”
“What?!” Carley said, jumping up. She joined the group around the desk. Kendall was yelling at Marshall, who was typing furiously.
“Can’t you trace it any faster?” Kendall snapped.
“Sir…I…I’m going as fast as I can.” Marshall’s brow was dripping with sweat. “But, you, you most likely won’t get any results. Sloane, Derevko, Jack, they’re smart enough to use, an, an untraceable source.” Marshall started stuttering, his fingers keep flying.
“Well, Marshall, you’d better find a way to trace it! We’re not going to let Bristow slip through our fingers!!”
Carley turned to a young female agent next to her. “What did the message say?”
The agent looked up. “They’re trying to de-code it now.”
What is going on? It’s not exactly that simple to send an e-mail in through the CIA network.
Agent Sydney Bristow. CIA.
Sloane was standing in front of Sydney, but once again, nothing he was saying was discernible. “Rambaldi has the power to make you anything, Sydney. Your life will no longer by that of a mere mortal. You must accept the change that is coming,” he said.
You can’t change me. You’ve tried before, tried to twist me into someone who I wasn’t. I’m not going to let you do this to me.
“You old fool,” she muttered as Sloane left the room. She immediately felt an intense pain pulsing through her veins, traveling to every region of her body.
I’m going to explode. My blood is actually going to start boiling.
Then, as quickly as the pain started, it receded to deep in her abdomen, nestling. Small pangs broke up.
What was that?
Irina Derevko. Former KGB and SVR.
Sloane met with both Jack and Irina in a conference room. Irina and Jack both sat across the table, glaring at Sloane. Irina exploded as soon as he sat down. “How could you do this to all of us, Arvin?”
Sloane looked at her. “What? All I have ever done for you is good things, Irina. I am trying to make your daughter all that she can be.”
Why do you always make it to be about Sydney?
Jack spoke before Irina could even open her mouth. “Do not give us that felgercarb about Sydney! She’s always been just an experiment. First it was Project Christmas. Then it was Rambaldi.” Irina looked over at Jack. His eyes had turned to steel. Irina could see him trying to shoot daggers at Sloane. She’d never seen Jack this mad, except at her, when she turned herself in to the CIA. It always hurt her to see the devotion he held for Sydney. Why couldn’t he show Sydney how much he loved her?
“Haven’t you seen it yet, Jack? Project Christmas was only a method to secure Sydney. I was only beginning my study of Rambaldi at that time. It wasn’t even ten years along, but I knew you and Irina had something to do with his final truth.”
“What do you mean?” Irina spat. It has always been about Sydney. Not about us.
“Now that ask, Irina. Rambaldi had a second Prophecy, one the CIA never knew about, nor the Alliance. It was the first piece of Rambaldi I ever saw, and now, it has become the most important.”