Last week on Alias: Syd and Dix went to Vegas, baby, VEGAS! Francie found out that her fiancé Charlie was a two-timing dickweed, Spy Daddy tried to reestablish himself as a father figure by offering Spy Barbie some scholastic advice, Agent Apathy kinda sorta declared his lurve for Sydney, and some hot Brit dude with a big gun made a rather big impression on the K-Directorate by murdering their leader in cold blood while Sydney watched from a prime spot HANGING OUTSIDE THE WINDOW.
Okay, so we begin where we left off, with Sydney in the stupid furry hat, flailing away from the cord that's hanging above the street. She's avoiding the none-too-accurate shots of the Russky down below by basically kicking her legs a lot and looking mighty pretty. No, it doesn't make sense to me either. So, she whips out a knife, cuts the cord, and crashes through a window in the opposite building. She makes a perfect landing, with nary a scratch and the stupid furry hat intact. Russky makes tracks to the building she crashed into as a disco-enhanced Gregorian chorus belts out some techno-spy beats.
As Sydney starts running through the floor of this building, we notice four things: 1) it is filled with headless mannequins; 2) there is an elevator through which someone can be glimpsed, but cannot quite be identified; 3) the Russky is advancing up the stairs at a rapid rate; and 4) Sydney looks FANTASTIC. Seriously. Like, she's all dressed in black and has this sort of accessory belt on her hips that's all jangling around and she's all frantic but her hair is...yeah, okay, moving on.
So, Syd sees the Russky leaping up the stairs and retreats back into The Warehouse Of Many Mannequins. Oh, what will she do next? If your guess is that she slaps that stupid furry hat on one of the random mannequins and sends it down in the elevator, then you win the Supreme Deluxe Set of the Power 90 videotape series which will set you on the path to hardbody-ness in the short span of ninety days! (Power 90 supplement vitamin packs not included.) Russky runs down the stairs in pursuit of the faux Sydney in the elevator, loads his weapon (hee!), and shoots the shit out of a decidedly unanimated mannequin. Just as he realizes his error, Sydney herself appears and beats him all to hell.
Syd escapes to the street, only to come up against yet another Russky, who points a gun directly in her face. Syd tells him to wait, which is a ploy often used by attractive young women wearing skintight black outfits; for some reason, it always works. The Russky pauses before shooting Syd, probably wondering if he can git him some before he shoots her dead. This hesitation gives Dixon enough time to shoot the Russky from an entirely unrealistic distance AND angle, thereby saving Syd's skinny ass. Dix pulls up in the van and Syd enters, thanking him for saving said skinny ass.
Then we're airborne over some random shoreline, complete with a Ferris wheel and tons of prime beachfront property. I thought, just for a second, that we were in Chicago, down by Navy Pier, and then I realized that Chicago has neither the prime beachfront property nor the continuously sunny days that an airborne shot like this might require. I'm thinking that we're heading off to Syd's next assignment when all of a sudden I'm forced to look at Willage Idiot. In bed. WITH HIS SHIRT OFF. Ew. EW. Oh, man. He's looking all post-coital and shit, too. Gah. GAH! Gack. Ow. I think I just swallowed a bug. Nope. Just a fragment of my southwest tuna wrap from Au Bon Pain that had, apparently, lodged itself into one of my molars. Gross.