Alias
Firebomb

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The roof. The roof. The roof is on fire!

Previously on Alias: Sloane wore a really bad rubber mask and skullcap.

A relatively long SWAT-fueled lead-in wherein we watch a bunch of "Swiss" dudes in uniform train their guns on the entrance to the "Swiss" bank that houses "Sloane" and "Elektra." Yeah. If these cops are "Swiss," than I'm actually Wendy O. Williams. And if they're in Switzerland, this recap is coming to you directly from Antarctica. Brrrrr.

Septuagenarian Soupy Sales and his daughter Syd exit the bank, and Soupy holds up some device. Just in case we don't know what in the hell he's doing or what in the hell is in his hand, we quickly check in with Vaughn, who's informing one of the "Swiss" police dudes that Soupy and Syd are to be left alone and allowed to leave or the whole place is gonna be blown sky-high.

We're also reminded that, just in case anyone gets an itchy Auslöser finger, the entire area's under ever-watchful eye of our own little Sarkie, so if Soupy bites it, Sarkie hits the big red button and buh-bye four-block radius. Vaughn and his very own "Swiss" dude keep trying to defuse the C-4 in the basement of the building as Soupy and Syd make for the product-placed Ford Fuckus. Soupy tries to take her arm and she's all, FUCK OFF, and pulls away. I really don't know why that tickled me, but it totally did. Like when you're having a fight with your boyfriend and he's trying to be all cute and gentlemanly and you're all, yeah, SAVE IT, FUCKDUD. Try to take my arm again and you'll be PULLING BACK A STUMP.

Back with Vaughn in The Basement Bathed In Golden Light, some other "Swiss" police dude is blabbling at him about the bomb. I can't really concentrate at the moment because the indirect lighting is doing wonders for Vaughn's cheekbones and his hair has this spiky rock-and-roll quality that, quite frankly, is distracting to the nth degree. Vaughn's all, there has to be some way to block the detonator. "Swiss" dude's all, not unless you have some surefire way to encase the thing in concrete, buddy. Ding! That's the sound of a light bulb actually going on above Vaughn's head. He walkie-talkies to someone to get him the bank manager. Now! Yeah. Vaughn's doing wonders for my sex drive right about now...

Ford Fuckus of Freaky Father Figures. Our very own Swiss Miss is driving the Fuckus down a mountain road as Baron von Blinkyness in the backseat rips off his carefully constructed disguise as if he were the fourth member of Charlie's Angels. He's all, dude, Sydney, I told you not to come after me! Guess I'll have to kill you now. Or at least divulge some of my secrets as if, any moment, I'm GOING to kill you. Oh, and could you do me a favor? Joni Mitchell called. She wants her circa-1972 hairstyle back.

Satan Sloane blithers on some more about his plans and how they're bigger than the CIA, bigger than SD-6, bigger than his betrayal of her and her betrayal of him -- heck, they're bigger than Elvis during the Vegas years! They're that big, people! I don't really know where Sloane's going with this, but we don't get a chance to find out, because we're back in The Basement Bathed In Golden Light and Vaughn's on the horn to Marshall, filling him in on some safe model or something.

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Alias

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