Alias: Agent Bristow

The sun beat down on Sydney Bristow's head as she jogged towards headquarters. Her face showed no exertion as she pushed herself to her physical limit. Her silken brown was tied up in a pony tail that was flying around the back of her head. Her chest heaved under the sports bra that she was wearing for a top. She had her walkman on blaring some Third Eye Blind song, but she wasn't really listening to it. Her mind was totally focused on her run. That was the reason she loved the fact that she wasn't working out of the Credit Dauphine building anymore. She always had to drive or take a cab there. With CIA headquarters underneath an overpass 20 minutes from her apartment, she could run to work and use that time to clear her mind. With all the things that seemed to be going on in her life at any given time, she needed a little quiet time all to herself.

Of course, it wasn't just her idea that she run to work. When she first started doing it, it was a requirement of the CIA. They wanted to know she was coming so the run would announce her. With the fall of SD-6, she could probably stop running to work. She was well-trenched in the CIA now. Now, she ran, not for the CIA, but for herself.

She surreptitiously looked all around her to see if she had a tail. She didn't see anything so she slipped under the overpass and opened up the emergency call box underneath. She punched in the code that let her into the Rotunda, a branch of the CIA that publicly did not exist. She entered the dark, cool office beyond. She untied the USC T-shirt that she had tied around her slim waist and pulled it over her pert breasts and flat stomach.

Now that her mind was off her run, she had time to think about what why she was here. She had gotten paged by Director Kendall himself. It had to be important if he had paged her personally. She wondered if it had anything to with Sloane. Sloane had been on the run ever since before the fall of SD-6. He and his associates like Sark were busy jet-setting around the globe trying to gather together items created by Milo Rambaldi, the 15th century Italian seer and inventor. She wondered what kind of dirty little business Sloane had his fingers into now.

Sydney walked across the office. She felt someone looking at her. She turned and saw the ever-handsome Michael Vaughn looking at her, determination adding a distinguished look to his features. She smiled broadly at him and walked over. She asked him, "What's going on?"

Her smile seemed to melt the determination in his features. "I'll let Kendall fill you in. We're meeting in his office right now."

He looked like he wanted to wrap his arm around her waist. He reached out hesitantly and pulled back. She understood his reluctance to show this public display of affection. Even though everyone knew that they were a couple, it just wasn't seemly to be flaunting it around.

They both walked into the conference room. Director Kendall was at the head. A focused and fierce man, he didn't play around. He was a man a lot like her father, Jack Bristow, who was sitting to Kendall's left. To Kendall's right was Marcus Dixon, one of Sydney's closest friends. It felt like they had worked together forever, even though it had only been about 3 years. Like most of the other men in her life, Dixon was focused and determined too. The difference, though, was that Dixon was a caring man who wore his heart on his sleeve. Ever since the death of his wife Diane, though, the caring look in Dixon's eyes had changed to hard flint.

Sitting next to Dixon was Marshall Flinkman, head of Op-Tech. He seemed flustered as always. Vaughn and Syd sat down on Jack's side of the table and gave all their attention to Director Kendall.

Kendall stood up and picked up a clicker off the table. It controlled the laptop that Kendall was using to present slides. He said, all-business, "You're probably wondering why I called you here today. Well, it concerns a couple of old friends of ours," he focused on Sydney, "especially you Sydney."

He pressed the clicker and a picture appeared on the screen behind him. A picture of a handsome 30s-ish black woman with almond-shaped Oriental eyes appeared on the screen next to a picture of the man Sydney hated more than anyone else, Arvin Sloane.

Sydney sucked in a huge gasp of air. "Anna Espinoza is working with Sloane?"

The look on Kendall's features froze and looked like granite. "That's right, Agent Bristow. Our girl, Anna, has been working free-lance ever since your mother had Sark kill her old boss, the head of K-Directorate. Free-lance, though, has not been as lucrative as Anna thought so now she's hooked up with Sloane.

"Sloane has hired Anna to assist him in his search for Rambaldi artifacts. Anna, being a Rambaldi convert, probably couldn't pass up Sloane's offer. Anna's current mission is to locate this," Kendall clicked to the next slide as he continued.

The picture on the screen was of an item that looked like an old-fashioned movie projector without the reels. Instead of one lens, mounted on the front, though, there were two that projected out from the front to the right and the left. It looked like it was made out of some kind of tarnished bronze or brass.

"From what we've been able to translate in the Rambaldi journals, it's some kind of energy-mass converter. Curiously, in the diagram, Rambaldi has the two lenses labeled as "Etna" and "Vesuvius." Why he chose those names is anyone's guess, but our men think it has something to do with what they actually do. Whether it's a reference to explosive power or what, we don't know. It could be a biological or chemical weapon, too because of this…," Kendall click to another side that was a close-up of one side of the device. There was a panel on the device that had a phrase etched into it.

"…panel. This phrase is written in two different languages. The first part is written in the strange language that Rambaldi seems to have written in. It says, 'The cure is….' The last three words are actually French. It says, 'le petit mort."

Sydney spoke up. "The little death? What does that mean?"

Kendall answered her. "That's one of the many things that we don't know Agent Bristow."

Vaughn spoke up, "Well, whatever it does, if Sloane wants it, it can't be good."

Sydney responded, "What's the mission?"

Kendall clicked again. A non-descript California-style mansion appeared on the screen. "Well, at least this time, the object is relatively close. The device is being held by a private collector by the name of Meyer Ross. He's a long-time independent film maker known for his soft core pornographic films featuring voluptuous women. We're not sure how he got his hands on the device, but rumor has it that the device was used on his wife, former porn star, Pamela Pontoons."

Kendall clicked again as two more pictures appeared on the screen. They were only headshots of an elderly looking gentleman with a mischievous gleam in his eye and a platinum blonde with plump collagen injected red lips and an intelligent look in her blue eyes.

Kendall spoke again, "Your mission, Agent Bristow, is to be the assistant to a documentarian who is making a movie on the life of Mr. Ross. Agent Dixon will be the filmmaker. While Dixon is interviewing Ross, Sydney will sneak into Russ's study and break into his safe. The device is there. From the intel we've received, Sloane was intending on sending Anna in next week during a large party the Ross's are having. We'll have the device a week early and win another battle in this war of attrition that we're having with Sloane. Now, Ross's house has the latest in state-of-the-art personal home security so Sydney will need some help. Marshall?"

Marshall had been staring forlornly at the picture of Pamela Pontoons on the screen. Sydney smiled when she thought that she saw a hint of moisture appear at the corner of his mouth. He perked up when Kendall called his name. He blushed and stood up. He stammered, "Well, uh, you see, Mr. Kendall….or should I call you Director Kendall….Director Kendall is right. It's just a personal security system. Which means just a buzzer, a gate, and a camera…hmph, like that's going to do anything if Charlie shows up with the family and they really want to get in, it's not like fingerprint or retina ID or…," he trailed off as Kendall glared at him.

He got back on track. "Basically, all you need is this."

Marshall held up what looked like a cell phone. He demonstrated, "You see, when you open in up and dial in *69 (I figured I'd use something that was easy to remember) a miniature electromagnetic pulse gets sent out that interferes with camera signals. The modulation of the pulse affects only cameras so anything else electrical is left alone. Security is blind until you open the phone back up, dial 411 and everything goes back to normal."

Kendall nodded. "As a camera crew, you'll need the requisite cover equipment so you'll see Marshall for the rest of that too. Good luck."

Dixon drove the Jeep Cherokee that they had gotten from the CIA up to the gate of Meyer's mansion. He stopped at the gate and pressed the buzzer on the intercom. The intercom responded with the voice of an annoyed guard, "Can I help you?"

Dixon leaned out the window and spoke into the speaker. "Yes, Chuck Moore and his assistant are here to interview Mr. Ross."

There was a pause of a minute or so before the gate before them buzzed and started to slowly open. The annoyed voice from the box spoke, "Come on in and pull your vehicle up to the front door of the house."

Dixon put the Cherokee into drive and slowly started to drive forward. As the vehicle crept along the long driveway leading up to the house, Dixon and Sydney looked around. They both noticed something odd about the statuary and shrubbery that Ross kept on the grounds.

Sydney gasped then covered her mouth while she giggle, "Oh my god, look at those things!"

The shrubs and the statues had something in common. They were both in the forms of naked women. The women were in various poses, but they were all stacked. All of the women had huge watermelon shaped breasts that jutted out from their bodies. Dixon shook his head and his mouth formed into a small, hard line. "The man is obviously a pervert," he commented.

Sydney was wondering how the statues were able to stand upright without tipping over. She kept such thoughts to herself though. As the Cherokee pulled up to the house, Sydney focused her thoughts back to the mission at hand.

Dixon stopped the vehicle and got out. He was wearing a pair of sunglasses, a tan golf-shirt, and khaki pants. He put his hands on his hips and looked all around the front of the house. Dixon was such a pro that it looked like he was admiring the house. What he was actually doing, though, was casing the joint. Sydney out after him and went to the back of the Cherokee. She opened up the tailgate and took out two camera cases. One had the camera and equipment that they were going to use to "tape" Ross. The other was empty. Once Sydney got the Rambaldi device, she was going to put it in the empty case. With her strength, Sydney had no trouble carrying the cases toward the front door, but for the sake of her alias, she pretended to struggle with getting the cases up the stairs. Luckily, she was sweating a little bit too. That added to the illusion. She wasn't sweating from exertion though. She was sweating from the UCLA sweatshirt and sweatpants that she had on. The clothes had a double function. First, she looked like a typical college student. Second, they covered up her "work" clothes. Under the sweats, she had on a neoprene black cat-suit.

She and Dixon went up the front stairs. Just as Dixon was about to knock on the door, the door opened. The door was seemingly opened by a pair of breasts. At least, that's what it looked like. A humongous pair of boobs was all Sydney could see. The rest of the person stood in the shadow on the doorway. A high-pitched voice squealed out in excitement, "Hi! You must be the documentarians!"

The figure stepped out into the light, her breasts leading the way. She stretched out her arm and offered her hand. "I'm Pamela Pontoons, Meyer's wife! I'm certainly delighted to meet you!"

Pamela Pontoons was dressed in a cotton top that was almost like a bikini. It might have been a regular top on a normally proportioned woman, but because of Pamela's expansive bosom, the top looked like a bikini. It was pink with white polka-dots. It matched the stretch pants that she was wearing. She wobbled forward on a pair of pink stiletto heels. Her platinum blonde hair was done up in a 50's style beehive and her overly full crimson lips puckered slightly when she wasn't talking. Dixon and reached out and shook her hand. Sydney did the same.

As Pamela pumped Sydney's hand, she exclaimed, "Meyer's just so excited to meet you! Come on in!"

Pamela whirled around on her heels and started to sashay across the threshold of the front door. Her voluminous rear end swung back and forth like a pendulum as she walked. She called out, "Meyer dear! The film people are here!"

Sydney lugged the equipment behind Dixon as they followed the full bottom of Pamela into the foyer. The room had two levels to it. There were two staircases on opposite sides that both led a landing that was the start of the second floor. An elderly, energetic man strolled up to the railing on the landing. He wore big, thick glasses with thick black frames that still couldn't hide the lustful, mischievous gleam in his eye. His silver hand was combed back on his head and was slicked down with some kind of gel. He was dressed in a luxurious magenta robe. Under the robe, he wore a pair of mint green pajamas. He held out his hands majestically and said in a firm, proud voice, "Welcome friends!"

Meyer Ross came down the stairs. When he reached the bottom, Dixon stuck out his hand to shake, but before Ross approached him, Ross crept up to Pamela, grabbed the blonde, and dipper her, planting a full passionate kiss on her pillowy lips. He straightened her back up then turned to Dixon and shook his hand.

Dixon, not showing any reaction to Meyer's public display of affection, shook the infamous film director's hand. "I'm Roger Siskel. I'm making a documentary about independent filmmakers, and this is my assistant, Julie St. James."

Ross pumped Dixon's hand then Sydney's. He gazed at Sydney for a move, moving his eyes lecherously up and down his body. Sydney pretended to be demure but in all honesty, she wanted to knock the pervert out.

Once he was done checking her out, Ross said, "It's very nice to meet the both of you. Why are you here again?"

Dixon said, "Well, like I said, my assistant and I are making a documentary about independent film in this country and we're interviewing independent filmmakers. We wanted to interview you since you were one of the first successful ones."

Ross laughed. "Aw, shucks, you're making me blush. I'd love to help you out Rog. Let's head into my rumpus room."

Ross led them into his den. It was an enormous room. On one end was a fireplace. Sitting on the mantle above were busts of busts. What it looked like was that several bosomy women had plaster poured over their breasts. These molds then became art in Ross's house.

Ross sat down on a green leather sofa. Dixon sat down on a chair opposite him. Pamela went behind the bar and squeaked out, "Anybody want a drink?"

Meyer piped up, "Sure hon, I'll have a Manhattan. You want anything Rog?"

Dixon put on a fake smile and said, "No, thanks."

Pamela made Ross's drink as Dixon spoke to Sydney. He said, "Julie, I think because of the lighting in here, we'll go with the Sony and not the Kodak. Call back to the office and tell them what we're doing and which camera we're using, then take the other one back to the car."

Sydney responded, "Sure boss."

Pamela finished making Ross's drink and was bringing it over as Sydney set the camera up. Dixon was making small talk with Ross. As soon as Sydney was set up, Dixon got out a notepad. Pamela handed Ross handed Ross his drink then plopped down on the couch next to him. She took his hand in hers and held it lovingly on his lap.

Dixon said to Ross, "Are you ready Mr. Ross? I'm just going to ask you some questions and you can just talk right into the camera."

Ross responded enthusiastically, "Sure thing. Ready when you are."

Sydney turned the camera on as Dixon started to interview Ross. As she walked away, she took out Marshall's special cell phone and dialed *69. She pretended to talk in it as she carried empty case and walked away. The phone hummed as it sent out it's pulse and shut down all the security systems. Right after she entered the foyer, she stripped down to her cat-suit and shoved the sweats in the empty case. She looked around once more to make sure no one was around then ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Sydney had memorized the lay out of the house before they had left so she knew right where Ross's study was. She quietly crept up to the door and saw that it was close. She grabbed the doorknob. It felt weird. That was when she noticed that it was shaped like a breast. It even had a small nipple on the front it. She softly turned the knob and opened the door.

Ross's study was a stereotypical wood-paneled one. He had a large mahogany desk. Behind it was the safe. The safe was usually covered by a copy of the Mona Lisa with a giant of a breasts and a larger smile. The painting wasn't there though. It had already been taken down and the safe opened by the beautiful black woman standing in front of it. Anna Espinoza!

Anna whirled around. She had the Rambaldi device in her hands. Sydney ran and launched herself over the desk with her leg out trying to catch Anna with a foot to the face. Anna ducked and swung her own case around, clocking Sydney on the side of the head. Sydney went sprawling and hit against one of the wood paneled walls. She shook the blow off and stood up. She set the case down and got into a martial arts pose. Anna set down her case but held onto the device. Sydney came at Anna with a combination of fists toward her face and torso. Anna, since she only had one arm to fight with, blocked the blow to her face, but the fist connected with her stomach. Anna gasped and doubled over. Sydney lifted a knee and clobbered Anna on the chin.

Anna flew up and back and landed on the floor. The Rambaldi device slipped out of her grip and went spinning around across the marble floor. Anna recovered quickly. She came back at Sydney with another kick that Sydney easily dodged. They both spun in the direction of the device and they both lunged for it. Just as they leapt for it, it bounced up against the wall. The jarring motion must have set it off because, all of a sudden, four beams of energy shot out from both lenses and struck both of them in the chest. The energy beam knocked them both back. Sydney recovered more quickly than Anna. Even with her chest still tingling, she got up and lunged for the device and grabbed it quickly. She raced over to her case, opened it in, and put the device inside. She slammed the case shut, pulled a set of stainless steel handcuffs from her belt and attached herself the case.

While she was doing this, Anna stood up. She still didn't look fully recovered yet. She was wobbling slightly on her feet. She shook the cobwebs out of her head, then a sudden realization flashed across her face. She looked down at her chest with a look of horror. She moved her eyes from her chest to Sydney standing there attached to the case. Sydney stared into Anna's eyes and saw a battle going on. Should she stay and fight it out with Sydney? Sydney being attached to the case was no big deal. Anna could always cut off Sydney's hand. The other side said she need to get out of there and take care of the tingling in her chest. The latter side won. Anna whirled on the balls of her feet and ran towards the window, leaping out of it. Sydney ran over to the window and gazed out as Anna landed lightly like cat and took off racing across the lawn. A sudden sharp bolt flashed across her chest. She stumbled slightly, but as soon as she felt it, it had passed. She hoped that Kendall was wrong as that it wasn't a device that created chemical or biological weapons. Who knew what it did to her then?