Hello. I've started a sort-of tradition of alternating Chuck stories and Forrest & Slade stories. I admit my last Chuck story, Chuck vs. a Blonde Leia, an Angry Jayne, and NOT Tricia Helfer was a bit unusual, especially given I've never even been to San Diego, much less Comic Con. But that annual event is as much a part of Chuck lore as anything else, and coming up with a story there was just my way of recognizing what Comic Con meant to Chuck fans, to say nothing of the cast.

I had played with the idea of this story a few times, mainly because I wanted to see what would happen when a few very unusual restrictions were put on our protagonists. Obviously, I can't keep going to the well of Jimmy Slade lacking confidence and having to be encouraged by everybody, so I wanted this one to show a more confident side of him. In fact, in chapter 2, you'll see how confident. And yes, some of the things you see in this chapter have a bearing on what happens later.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this new story. And yes, I have a Chuck story waiting in the pipeline. It'll incorporate elements of Season 5 before we even get to it, so it should be interesting. A big thanks to BDaddyDL for giving me some critiques of my writing. For everybody else, please read, review, and enjoy!

Pacific Ocean
October 27, 2011
11:30 PM JST

Yuji Okumoto took the last drag on his cigarette and stamped it out on the deck of the Liparus. To anybody else on the ship, he was Joey Miyashima, a salesperson for an up-and-coming electronics firm just outside of Tokyo. The earthquake and subsequent tsunami earlier this year caused a lot of damage to homes and businesses throughout Japan, but they were spared…at least, that's the story he told. The crew believed his company had to expand their market share quickly to stay afloat. That was the reason for this trip. He was to personally oversee the sales pitch to a series of electronics distributors in Los Angeles. He even made the two-week long trip on the cargo ship to keep an eye on some next-generation merchandise sure to wow the American consumer. The crew asked him about it, but he told them his father believed in trusting the family.

At least that part was true. The Yakuza crime family did believe in loyalty beyond reproach, and Okumoto was undergoing his audition right now.

Okumoto had been a member of the kobun for a particularly successful oyabun for just over two years. He was one of the few people to survive so long without having so much as a fingernail cut off for his errors, of which there were none. His tall but wiry figure could have gotten him a job as a midfielder in one of Japan's soccer leagues or even as a defensive back for an American football team had he decided to go that way. But he discovered he had far more talent with theft, intimidation, and cold-blooded murder. His work had not escaped the notice of the higher-ups in the family. They wanted to give him his shot. Returning home with his assignment completed successfully meant a fast-track to the upper echelons, potentially one of the youngest oyabuns in the family itself.

His assignment would require all of his skills, both physical and mental. The Yakuza were trying to increase their share of weapons sales inside the United States, and the uncertain American economy meant gangs…whether they were local or national, dealing in almost anything…were investing more in weapons and related hardware. The Yakuza already had relationships with several weapons' manufacturers making anything from assault rifles to grenade launchers to pistols with bullets that could penetrate even the most up-to-date body armor the police wore. It was a good opportunity for the Yakuza to make lots of money and an even greater opportunity for Okumoto to rise to the top in the organization.

A brief smile…incredibly rare for the stoic Okumoto…flitted across his face. He had wanted an opportunity like this since he was brought into the fold. And now he had it.

He had no intention of letting anybody stop him.

Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia
November 4, 2011
3:30 PM MYT

Azman Hashim kept a sharp eye on the woman across the table from him. He had studied her dossier long before he ever met her, but the information in the file was impeccable…at least, for his needs. She brokered the deal to sell goods produced in sweatshops owned by the Chinese Triad to countries in the West, and she was responsible for keeping Taliban cells in Afghanistan resupplied after U.S. drone attacks on their compounds. Hashim thought she might have been playing both sides, as rumors surfaced she leaked information regarding the compound where Osama bin Laden was holed up to the United States, but those rumors couldn't be confirmed. Regardless, this was a woman with connections. It was what he needed.

And the business suit she wore with a short skirt, allowing him to see significant amounts of shapely leg, didn't exactly make matters worse.

"Rather brash of you conducting business in such a high-profile building, isn't it?" the woman asked him.

Hashim gave a slight smile. "It's amazing how 'friendly' real estate companies and even governments become when the economy turns south and you are one of the few with the means to run your business. The Petronas Towers became a joke. Pride goeth before the fall, if I remember the old adage correctly. They were so desperate to create the tallest building in the world, nobody thought what would happen once they did."

Hashim gestured to the expansive office. "We own the top five floors in each tower, and the owners all but paid us to be here."

The woman gave a slight smile. "I certainly hope that means you can afford what I'm about to provide you."

Hashim nodded. "If the data you have is legitimate, I think we can create a mutually-beneficial business relationship."

The woman nodded and reached into her briefcase.

"Wait!" a voice hissed. Hashim did not react at all to the voice…as he never heard it. The woman did.

"I cannot think of any problems that would impede us," the woman said cryptically.

"I can. I just got to the junction box. I need two more minutes," the voice whispered to her. "Can you stall?"

The woman coughed slightly and rasped, attempting to clear her throat.

"Is everything all right?" Hashim asked.

"I apologize," the woman rasped. "I'm afraid I'm just getting over something I caught on my last trip."

"Would you like a glass of water?"

"That would be lovely, thank you."

Hashim picked up his phone and pressed the intercom button. It came back with a shrill busy signal. He tried a second time with the same results. He got up from his desk and crossed the room to the door. He poked his head out to see his assistant typing away dutifully at the computer.

"Please get a glass of ice water for our guest. Also, call building services. The intercom isn't working." His assistant nodded and set about to her tasks.

Forty feet away inside a supply closet, a man breathed a sigh of relief. His mini-laptop was still attempting to circumvent the firewall on the computer server, and it was taking longer than the two minutes he requested. Thankfully, the woman inside Hashim's office asked for water. The phone system was much simpler to hack.

"She'll get that for you," Hashim replied pleasantly to his guest. "In the meantime, do you have the information?"

The woman reached down into her briefcase once again to retrieve a flash drive. She handed it to Hashim. "There is a lot of information on there, so it may take about thirty seconds to boot up."

"Oh, you did not just say thirty seconds," the man in the closet angrily whispered as he typed furiously on his mini-laptop, attempting to get the program set up before Hashim inserted the flash drive. If he didn't, they would have problems.

"Come on, come on," he said quietly to himself. "Whew," he breathed as the program finished uploading into their systems. He inserted a device into the port of the server and covered it with the existing network cabling.

He heard the scrape of footsteps coming down the hall. He quickly shut the cabinet door and climbed the rope he used to lower himself into the supply closet. He pulled the rope into the ceiling and replaced the tile just as the door opened. The man crawled quietly through the ceiling as the assistant took a quick look around. She did not see anybody, but something felt a bit off. She quickly returned to her desk and dialed a number.

Hashim inserted the flash drive and took a look at the files. "Excellent." He handed the woman a business card with a numbered account for a bank in the Caymans. "Feel free to begin the transfer," he told her.

The woman got out her mobile phone to access the account. Hashim settled into his chair as he noticed the red light blinking on his phone.

The man continued to crawl through the ceiling in an attempt to find an exit. He checked his mini-laptop to verify the information from Hashim's computer was downloading. He gave a quiet sigh of relief when he discovered everything was going according to plan. He checked the blueprints of the building on his mobile phone to locate a safe exit point. He smirked as he realized what he was doing.

"A naked blonde walks into a bar with a poodle under one arm, and a two-foot salami under the other," he said quietly with a grin as he crawled. "Lays the poodle on the table. Bartender says 'I suppose you won't be needing a drink.' And the naked lady says…oh, SHIT!"

The man fell through the ceiling and landed inelegantly on the floor with a loud thud.

"Way to jinx it, asshole," he muttered to himself. He slowly tried to get up, only to have a team of three security guards burst into the room.

"Who are you?" one of them asked. The man remained silent. "Put handcuffs on him," he ordered the other two men.

They approached the man, who appeared to be frozen and unresponsive, although his eyes darted back and forth. Suddenly the man pivoted and took out one guard with a roundhouse kick. The second guard threw a punch, which the man sidestepped. He threw a hard jab at the guard and followed it with a hook to take him down.

"We have an intruder…" the final guard screamed into his radio before the man knocked him out with a vertical kick.

The man took off down the hallway with a half-dozen security guards in pursuit. He got to the stairwell and tried to go down, only to have a dozen more security guards charge up the stairs. The man quickly ran up to the next floor and sprinted down the hallway. He entered an office directly above Hashim's office. He had no escape and about ten seconds before the guards caught up to him.

Hashim's phone rang. "Excuse me a moment," he told the woman as he picked up his phone and listened carefully. His expression changed to a far more serious tone as he hung up the phone and glared at the woman.

"It would appear there is some sort of intruder with a computer running around these hallways. I find it odd they would be here at the exact same time you are."

The woman shrugged. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm sure it's just coincidence."

Hashim reached into his desk, pulled out a gun, and aimed it at the woman. "I don't believe it is."

The man grabbed the coffee table sitting next to the two couches in the empty office. He swung it hard at the window several times to shatter it. He reached into his bag to take the rope out of it. He tied one end to the mahogany desk near the window as the doors opened. The man clipped the other end to his belt and pulled out a gun as the guards took aim. He fired two shots at them and jumped out of the 87th floor window.

Hashim kept a steely glare at the woman. "Tell me whom you work for." The woman remained silent. Hashim slowly stood and motioned with the gun for the woman to do the same.

He ripped the flash drive from his computer. "This is a setup, isn't it. Are you with Interpol? The Mossad? The CIA?"

He was interrupted by what sounded like bullet holes being shot into the window. He turned to see a large figure crash through it, knocking him down in the process. The woman dove to the ground and grabbed the gun out of his hand. The door burst open, and the woman whirled around to fire at the security guards attempting to enter. They quickly retreated.

The woman turned to the man who crashed through the window. "Are you out of your mind? We're 86 floors up!"

The man stared in bewilderment. "It's not like I had a choice! I tried using the stairs, but they got tipped off. At least you got to take the elevator up. I was the one crawling through the ducts this time."

"Yeah, and you had to jinx it by reciting The Breakfast Club, James," Alex Forrest growled.

Jimmy Slade grabbed the flash drive from the unconscious Hashim and reloaded his gun. "Oh, right. That's why I screwed up," he replied acidly. "Because I stopped to wonder what the punchline of that joke was supposed to be."

"You know, I promised Beckman you'd watch out for yourself, that you wouldn't do any more crazy stunts. I don't think doing a John McClane imitation out of the top of the Petronas Towers can be considered watching out for yourself."

Jimmy fired a shot at the door as security tried to reenter. "OK, fine. Next time I'll just casually walk down the stairs. I may end up with enough bullet holes in me to make Swiss cheese, but at least I won't have done anything crazy."

Alex exhaled in frustration. "I'm just saying sometimes it's better to think strategy through first instead of running head-first into danger."

Suddenly, two flashbangs were thrown into the room by the security guards. Jimmy and Alex stared in shock.

"On the other hand…" Alex said in a panic as Jimmy stripped off his jacket. "You actually thought of that?" Alex said in disbelief when she saw what he had on under the jacket.

"See? Sometimes I use my brains," he replied as he ran for the window. Alex ran at him and leaped into his arms, hanging on tightly as Jimmy jumped out of the window two seconds before the flashbangs went off. They free-fell from the 86th floor for a few seconds before Jimmy pulled the ripcord on his parachute. The chute opened and they began to glide to the ground.

"Cold, very cold," Alex said as she gripped Jimmy even more tightly.

"Thank God you had a tight skirt on; otherwise you'd be having the ultimate Marilyn Monroe moment right now."

Jimmy steered the parachute towards a park several miles from the towers. They reached the ground and landed safely. Alex grabbed the mini-laptop and analyzed the information as Jimmy shed his parachute.

"It worked," she said in relief. "Interpol has all of Hashim's files, and the Royal Malaysian Police Force already has the building surrounded."

Jimmy smiled. "So our batting average remains at 1,000. Great."

"Although you really have to stop with these flairs for the dramatic."

"Fine. Next time, I'll leave the parachute at home," Jimmy replied in frustration.

Alex gave him a weird look. "OK, you really have to figure out when I'm kidding."

Jimmy's eyes widened. "Wait, you do that now?"

Alex put her arms around him. "What can I say? You're a bad influence."

Jimmy checked his smartphone. "Do you still think we can get back to D.C. in time for Monday Night Football?"

Alex gave him a kiss. "Absolutely. But remember my rule."

Jimmy quietly growled. "I know, I know. No singing the opening with Hank. You are so mean."

"Hey, I'm letting you wear your Bears jersey in my apartment. I wouldn't even let John wear a Patriots jersey in my presence. Of course, after the game, you can use it as a crying towel."

Jimmy laughed in defiance. "Oh, you did NOT just go there, missy. OK, we are betting on this game."

"Mmm, what can I make you do when I win this bet? The possibilities are endless," Alex said with a ridiculously smug look on her face.

"Oh, I know I can come up with something very humiliating for you," Jimmy replied as he matched Alex's smug look.

"Take your best shot, babe. Of course, I don't have to worry since you're gonna lose."

Jimmy paused. "By the way, should we be worried we have fake passports in a foreign country and just based-jumped off the Petronas Towers, and yet we're still standing here talking?"

"Uh, maybe. Let's get out of here."

"Good idea." They took off to retrieve their possessions from their hotel and make travel arrangements back to the United States.

Burbank, California
November 7, 2011
9:30 PM PST

The day started like every other day in their lives, and their night was ending pretty much the same way.

They stumbled out of the restaurant…asked to leave by the management, actually…and they made their way back to the van.

"No respect for their regulars," one of them said in a slurred voice.

"Tell me about it, my compadre," the other man said in a slightly clearer voice. "The stripes change from green to red, but you still can't get good service."

They stumbled into the van and drove down the road.

"Where to now? We still have so much of the night to go," the first man said to the second one there.

"We'll just let fate decide."

"What do you mean?"

"We just go where the van wants to take us. The City of Angels can steer us wherever it sees fit tonight!"

"That's good. I was already having trouble steering this thing," the man with the slurred speech answered.

"Uh, perhaps I should be driving. I don't have enough for bail money for you."

They drove through the streets of Los Angeles, looking for something to occupy their time.

McLean, Virginia
November 7, 2011
10:30 PM EST

"Oh, come on, ref! The Bears can lose on their own! They don't need your help!"

"Well, if your O-line knew how to pass block, they wouldn't be getting holding penalties left and right."

"Hey, Cutler wasn't playing badly tonight."

"That's true. He's thrown three touchdown passes so far; one to the Bears and two to the Eagles."

Chuck and Sarah Bartowski glanced back and forth all night watching the tennis match between what they thought were two very compatible people. It was nothing short of astonishing how different Jimmy and Alex were from a year ago when Jimmy went on his first official mission and Alex actually thanked them for rescuing her from the Russian mobsters who captured her and were intent on killing her slowly and painfully. However, it would appear having teams from Chicago and Philadelphia play each other in football…or any sport, based on the arguing they had been doing all night…was not the best idea to maintain a harmonious relationship. At least not between these two.

They would have left long ago. However, the pizza they had was too damn good. And they had too much to bother moving an inch.

Sarah was not too happy with Alex for letting Jimmy cater the evening's festivities. The furniture for their new house a few miles away finally arrived, which meant they didn't have to burden Alex anymore by borrowing her apartment. Of course, Alex and Jimmy had been overseas on a mission the whole time, so it wasn't much of a burden. Tonight was a 'welcome back' gathering, only Sarah didn't realize Jimmy had ordered deep-dish pizza mailed to them from an actual Chicago pizzeria. He even special-ordered one for her: vegetarian with no olives. She was grateful for that, as it was a lot harder to pick olives out of a deep-dish pizza. However, she was already dreading how much exercise she'd have to do to work this off.

"OK, so…" Chuck started tiredly.

"What?" Jimmy asked.

"Um…I forgot what I was going to say."

Jimmy nodded in sympathy. "I know. It's like trying to do some family activity right after Thanksgiving dinner is over. Only, you can fake your way through Thanksgiving. Just take little things here and there. Deep-dish pizza…you can't hide from that. It'll get you."

Alex smiled. "If you think it's bad now, there are two frozen ones left for you to take home."

"Ugh, you are truly evil, Alex," Sarah grumbled. She was never one for jealousy, but Alex had some sort of ability to eat like she was at a tailgate party and still look runway-model thin. Maybe it had something to do with Alex spending her entire life in athletics, whereas Sarah got most of her physical training since she started college. It drove Sarah crazy; not even Jimmy ate as much as Alex did tonight.

"Hey, it was James' idea. Actually, it's partly your own fault. You knew he used to play football. How did you think he'd react to his team being on national TV?"

Alex turned to Jimmy. "And getting their ass kicked, I might add."

"Ahh, lighten up. They can still come back."

Alex checked the score. The Eagles were up 24-7 with ten minutes left in the game. "Oh, definitely. One or two more touchdowns and they may actually have a shot at this."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. And how many Super Bowls have the Eagles won? Oh, that's right. They haven't. Way to invest all that money on McNabb for a decade."

"Wasn't he born and raised in Chicago?" Alex countered with a cocky grin.

"And on that note…" Chuck said tiredly as he got up with considerable effort. Sarah held her hands out, and Chuck pulled her up as well. "We have to get our beauty sleep before work tomorrow. Unlike other people, who get to have the day off," he muttered with a sideways glance at Jimmy and Alex.

"Hey, we just got back from overseas," Jimmy protested. "We deserve a day off."

The four walked to the door and exchanged hugs.

"You two drive safely," Jimmy told Chuck and Sarah.

"We will," Sarah replied. "We'll come back for the pizza later, if that's OK."

"It's fine, Sarah," Alex replied. "I've got plenty of room in the freezer. A lot less frozen dinners in there since we vowed to cook actual meals."

"Good night."

"Good night," Chuck replied. "Thanks for having us over."

Chuck and Sarah walked out, and Jimmy locked the door behind them. He turned to see Alex with a big smile on her face.

"What?" he asked in confusion before he figured it out. "I have to pay up now? The game isn't even over yet!"

"The game was over after the first quarter, babe."

"OK, what did you have in mind?"

"Mmm, I tell you what. Why don't you clean up the living room while I get ready."

Alex retreated to the bedroom, leaving an extremely-irked Jimmy in the living room. He picked up the plates, glasses, and beer bottles that littered the room and put them in the garbage. He wrapped the leftover pizza in Reynolds Wrap and put it in the refrigerator. If nothing else, at least he had lunch for the next few days.

"You can come in," Alex called from the bedroom.

Jimmy exhaled in frustration and walked into the bedroom. A massage table was set up in the room. The lights were out, and several candles were lit to provide the most minimal light. Alex had some smooth jazz playing on the radio, and she was clad in her favorite robe with her hair back in a ponytail.

He should have seen this one coming from a mile away. "You had this planned the whole time?"

Alex shrugged and smiled. "What can I say? I got a really good price on the massage table."

She slowly walked up to Jimmy. "Now I know there's something in that Intersect that will tell you how to give a good massage."

"So, just because I have all this knowledge in my head, that means I have to cater to your every whim?"

Alex raised an eyebrow and undid the sash on her robe. The robe fell to the ground.

Jimmy glared at her. "OK, if you think you can coerce me into do your bidding by standing there naked, then…yeah, you're right."

Alex smiled and gave him a sensual kiss, her tongue playing with his inside their joined mouths. "You're such a pushover," she purred.

Alex lay face-down on the massage table. Jimmy took a bottle of oil from a holder attached to the side. He got some of it on his hands and rubbed them together to warm it up. Alex pulled her ponytail to one side to give Jimmy access to her shoulders. Jimmy started running his hands over her shoulder blades and upper back, causing Alex to moan with satisfaction.

"Mmmm, you are really good at this. The Intersect pays off yet again."

"Actually, this is all me," Jimmy replied.

"Really? I'm impressed." Alex paused for a moment. "Wait, how long have you known how to give a massage?"

Jimmy worked down her spinal column. "Not very long. Actually, I was studying it on the flights to and from Malaysia."

"But why bother studying when you probably have the information in your head and you just have to access it?"

Jimmy shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I thought you'd appreciate it more if I 'earned my keep', as it were."

Alex turned slightly, pulled Jimmy to her, and gave him a kiss. "I do, James."

Jimmy went to work on her arms. "I probably should have learned sooner. You said Sarah did that to distract me last year in Las Vegas so I'd be less nervous."

"She did. She just didn't realize you'd be so good at it." Alex exhaled in utter bliss as Jimmy started massaging her legs. "Wow. I can't believe this is the first time you're doing this. I'm going to have to get you to massage me every week."

Jimmy quietly groaned. "Oh, you'd be fully compensated for your efforts," Alex teased.

"Yeah, I'll believe that when I see it."

Alex laughed as she turned over to lie on her back. Jimmy paused momentarily to admire her form.

"Hey, enough with the sightseeing," Alex playfully barked with an emphasis on her Northeast accent. "I paid for the full hour, pal."

Jimmy smiled and went back to work massaging Alex. "If someone told me two years ago I'd be massaging an incredibly beautiful woman like you, much less be in love with her, I'd have told them they should cut back on whatever it was they were smoking."

"Never say never, I guess. It's a lesson I had to learn. I was…too set in my ways. I didn't think I would get another chance. To be honest, I wasn't even seeking one."

"I know I wasn't. I just stumbled ass-backwards into all of this. It's still hard for me to believe sometimes. I mean, seriously, I don't even think the quarterback of my high school football team dated anybody as hot as you."

Alex smiled. "I actually dated our high school quarterback a few times. He was one of the few guys in school who wasn't intimidated by me. Trust me; you're much more handsome than him, with the added bonus you're the complete opposite of a conceited jerk."

Jimmy gave a quiet laugh. "I'm not sure if that's necessarily a good thing. It's something of a character flaw with everybody I know."

"Look, everybody thinks you're a really amazing person, and it hurts us that you don't feel the same way. But you are getting better. You're a lot more sure of yourself than you were last year when we first worked together. I had to read you the riot act in the bar that night in Manhattan, remember?" Jimmy nodded. "I think the more experience you got, the more confident you became."

Jimmy continued to massage Alex. She opened her eyes and gave him an odd glance. "What are you doing?"

Jimmy was confused. "What do you mean?"

Alex took Jimmy's hands and slid them over her breasts. "I want the full-service massage, mister."

He shook his head and exhaled. "You're so picky."

Jimmy's body brushed up against Alex's arm as he moved downward to massage her. She reached down to feel what it was and arched a playful eyebrow. "Well, unless that's the remote control in your pocket, I'd say you're OK with this," she said in a sultry voice.

Jimmy continued the massage per Alex's orders. His hands proceeded down her body. She closed her eyes and became short of breath as Jimmy's magic hands did their job to perfection, making her cry out in pleasure.

Suddenly she bolted up, grabbed Jimmy, and began kissing him like there was no tomorrow. She quickly shed him of his Bears jersey and pants.

"I take it the massage was satisfactory?" Jimmy said as he was taken by surprise.

Alex pressed her naked form against his. "Like you wouldn't believe," she said huskily as she pushed him down on the table and got on top of him.

Long Beach Harbor, Los Angeles
November 7, 2011
9:30 PM PDT

Yuji Okumoto looked at the men Jorge Valderas brought with him to the port. He didn't think much of them, as they were the very definition of a loose-knit group. They had little honor; just a bunch of punks making a few bucks by selling drugs to people who couldn't afford them and intimidating people who didn't deserve their antagonism in the first place. Okumoto had a lot more respect for the crime families who actually built something; he had seen every Godfather movie at least a half-dozen times. He admired the old families of Prohibition-era New York and Chicago, back in the days where the common man actually feared them instead of looked on them with scorn. Like the organization to which he belonged, they actually created a business as opposed to having pissing contests over a few square blocks of 'turf'.

"Can we make an arrangement?" Okumoto asked Valderas. Despite being reviled by Japanese society, he was continually grateful for the education they made him endure. He spoke English, Spanish, and French fluently.

"This is some impressive hardware," Valderas replied. "Everything we need."

Valderas handed Okumoto a slip of paper, which Okumoto read. His expression didn't change, but Okumoto's men knew what his reaction was to Valderas' offer.

"You insult me by making a low offer like this?" Okumoto replied.

Valderas grinned, showing off several gold teeth. "Here's the way I see it. You have a dozen crates of weapons, armament, and ammunition. But they're just that; in crates." He nodded, and everyone in Valderas' crew pulled out their guns. "We, on the other hand, are strapped and ready to go. And we'll be happy to just take those crates off your hands if our price is a bit low."

Okumoto took two steps towards Valderas, and his lips turned up in a tiny smile. He then grabbed the wrist holding the gun and twisted it around and backwards. Valderas screamed as he heard bones break, but he was quickly silenced as Okumoto grabbed his neck and jerked his hand hard. Valderas collapsed into a heap as Okumoto spun and landed a kick to another of Valderas' men, connecting directly with the man's throat. Okumoto then took Valderas' gun and fired at third man, the shot landing right between his eyes.

Okumoto looked at the remaining members of Valderas' gang with a peaceful calm as he swept the gun slowly back and forth. All of them, already paralyzed with fear at seeing three of their fellow gang members murdered within a few seconds, dropped their weapons and ran.

Okumoto looked at the weapon he took from Valderas and casually tossed it into the harbor. He motioned to his men, who grabbed the three dead bodies and dragged them to the edge of the pier, throwing them into the Pacific. It was a wasted night. But Okumoto always heard America was the land of opportunity. And there was plenty of time.

Thirty yards away, two men in a van saw the three men murdered. In their incoherent state, it was like watching a Michael Mann film.

Office of the Director of National Intelligence
November 8, 2011
1:00 PM EDT

"With respect, General, you told us specifically to take a few days off. It's only been one day."

"I understand, Agent Forrest." General Diane Beckman tried to remain patient. After all, Agents Forrest and Slade rescued her in New York three weeks ago and brought down one of the biggest criminals in the Far East almost a month ahead of schedule. "However, we have a potentially-delicate situation brewing. And I need…why are you dressed like that, Agent Slade?"

Jimmy sat next to Alex in the foulest of moods. The dyed green hair was bad enough, as he felt frivolities like that should be restricted to St. Patrick's Day. But the green Michael Vick jersey was crossing a line.

"I paid the bet back last night, or did you forget?" Jimmy growled at Alex.

"Oh, you mean…that?" Alex innocently asked. "I never actually said that was how you were going to pay the bet. You simply assumed it."

Beckman tried not to smile. Ordinarily, she would have preferred Agent Forrest get knocked down a peg. As good of an agent as she was, she was also considerably arrogant. However, the dyed green hair and reddening face on Agent Slade was doing the trick quite nicely.

"Let me guess; you two bet on the football game last night." Jimmy sighed in frustration. "I think we better send you for a neurophysical exam, Agent Slade. I'm not particularly thrilled our most powerful asset just got…what is it the kids say these days? Lawyered?…by his own girlfriend."

Jimmy slunk in his chair, his headache having more than quadrupled since waking up this morning.

"What is the issue, General?" Jimmy grumbled.

Beckman straightened in her chair, grateful they could get down to business. "An hour ago, I got off the phone with a former agent. He called me to report some 'unusual behavior' in two individuals with whom both of you are familiar. They were telling some unusual stories about something that happened at Long Beach Harbor last night. Ordinarily we'd take this with a considerable grain of salt, but Homeland Security sent us surveillance footage from the harbor."

Beckman slid a file over to Alex and Jimmy. "We believe some sort of arms deal may have gone down there last night."

Jimmy took the folder and started leafing through the pictures inside of it. He stopped at one particular picture and had a flash.

He held up the picture for General Beckman. "This is Yuji Okumoto. He's a member of the Yakuza in Japan, a kyodai in the Sumiyoshi-Rengo family, if I remember correctly. He redefines the term badass."

"He's here in the United States?" Alex asked.

"It would appear so. If he is, the Yakuza are attempting to spread their influence into new circles. They don't have much of a foothold as of yet in the U.S., and obviously we wish to keep it that way."

"So you suspect what this former agent told you about these two people is more than just a story?"

"That's what I want you two to find out. We've been receiving reports from the Los Angeles Police that chatter has picked up among several high-profile gangs in the area. This supposed 'arms deal' may have gone badly, and a few of the higher-ups in one of these gangs have disappeared. I want to end this before something more violent starts and puts innocent people in the crossfire."

"We should start with the two people who may have witnessed it. Who are they?" Jimmy asked.

Alex and Jimmy were shocked to see General Beckman smile. She handed a folder to them. Jimmy opened it so Alex could look as well.

"Aaah, hell," Jimmy growled.

"You HAVE to be kidding," Alex said in equal disbelief.

"I assure you I am not," Beckman replied. "You're going to Burbank to see just how much Jeff Barnes and Lester Patel know."