A/N: Hi. I was wondering what was up with all those extra people on Chuck. And then I wrote this.
Disclaimer: Chuck is not one of those things I own.
The Pilot
By Bernard C. Davis
It started as usual. For an emergency op, that is. I was getting the kids ready for bed. Kyle just turned three last week, Kylie will soon be to old for bedtime stories. Thank God. And no, Kyle and Kylie were not my idea. My wife thought it would be cute. Instead, it's just confusing. So anyway, I finished reading a chapter of The Little Princess and was about to go help the Mrs. with the dishes when my phone rang. My mission phone.
"Bernard? I think your special phone is ringing!"
I hate when she calls it that. It takes my very manly, very heroic, very deadly job and makes it sound like the short bus. But she's my wife, so I let it slide by. I answered the phone, and listened to the automated message. Three or four other guys across the country were hearing the same thing. The digitalized, yet feminine, voice requested my immediate presence at the NSA Headquarters in D.C.
So I kissed my wife, grabbed my ready suitcase out of the closet, and told her to watch after the kids. I always avoid making unbreakable vows. Like, "I'll be back before you know it!" Or, "I'll see you soon!" Because in this business, you never know. So, all I said was:
"I love you. Take care."
And she replied, "You take care! Come back safe!"
A plane ride later I'm sitting in a conference room with three other guys. General Beckman appears on a television in front of us. Her presence meant it was a big operation. I'd only seen the General twice before, both times before important missions. In this game, an important mission is a deadly one. I'd been lucky to survive twice, and I wasn't particularly wishing to push my luck. I put those thoughts in the back of my mind. You can't focus on results before you begin the test.
"Agents," she addressed us, "You were called here because our nation is facing an impending disaster. A CIA," A chorus of coughs and snickers filled the room, the General ignored it, "agent went rogue, stealing all of the government's secrets. We need to recover these secrets, at any and every cost. NSA agent, Major John Casey, will be team leader. He will continue the briefing."
At that point, I hadn't known what to think. How could all of the government secrets be stolen? How could a CIA prick have pulled it off? This op seemed way, way, way above what I'd signed up for. But when I saw Major Casey, I knew there was no chance of escaping the room. The major walked in through the only door, and growled. He growled!
"Alright listen you sorry pieces of shit. This is my op. I killed the traitorous bastard, and he still got the secrets out. I want this ended so I can go back to killing people that don't speak English. Comprendo?" More growling, "We tracked the message that the traitor sent to Burbank, California. We leave tomorrow. We'll asses the situation from there and plan of course of action. Dismissed."
The major turned to leave when an agent raised his hand, "Um, Major, sir, what exactly are we looking..."
"I said dismissed, Agent. Not 'questions'!"
I swear, a cold breeze swept through the room as the Major left the room. We slowly filed out and made our way to a bar. Team bonding and all that. Turns out I worked an operation with Agent Imunez in Mississippi once. The others, Agents Wexler, and Farley, were fairly new to the NSA. I turned in early, knowing that a hang-over would only add to upsetting the major even more.
We flew out to Burbank the following morning. It was fairly uneventful. I made a call with a pay-phone in the airport to my wife. All was well on the home front. Kyle had almost electrocuted himself twice playing with outlets and Kylie had beat up a girl at school. Apparently the other girl was teasing her about her name. Well.. maybe everything wasn't well, but it was normal. The Major went to scout out the town, figure out what's going on and all that, so the rest of us checked into a hotel. It was a crappy place. My bathroom had definitely not been swept in the past week. Or month, for that matter. So I unpacked nothing, agents always have to be ready to move, and watched some Sports Center. The Nationals lost. Again.
The call came later that afternoon. Casey had found the missing data, and we were needed for backup. I put on my best suit, typical NSA uniform, grabbed my badge, gun, and a little extra cash before heading down to the lobby to meet up with the other agents. Along with Imunez, Wexler, and Farley two others from the local field office had joined us. I didn't bother to learn their names.
We split off, the Major, Imunez, and I piled into one SUV while Wexler, Farley, and the two other guys took a surveillance van. The Major rode shotgun and I was given driving duty. Imunez sat quietly in the back seat.
The SUV rode ahead of the van, and I navigated us through downtown Burbank. Following the Major's instructions, I parked the SUV outside a rather ridiculous looking store: The BuyMore. We remained parked for half and hour. Customers came and went, Major Casey remained silent. I was about to fall asleep on the horn when the Major cursed and picked up his binoculars. He muttered something that sounded a lot like:
"Damned CIA skirt!"
But I wasn't quite sure what he was talking about because all I saw was a rather chubby employee of the BuyMore walk into a parked vehicle. I think it was because he was too focused on his candy bar. We stayed parked there all afternoon. There are parts of this job that make me miss resolving sibling squabbles back home. Sadly, this isn't one of them. Maybe I would be better off working at a BuyMore...
Eventually, around dusk, the Major spotted something and ordered us to move. We drove around downtown for a bit. Major Casey allowed us to stop and get some dinner. I chose good old Mickey D's. I ordered a large #2 combo, Imunez got a happy meal. The Major promptly snatched Imunez's happiness in a box and crushed it between his index and pinky fingers. At that point I was starting to think that the Major wasn't human, and lacked all positive emotion. After our quick meal Major Casey ordered me to park outside a cheesy looking Mexican restaurant. I had begun to think that this mission was just a cruel trick played on agents that hadn't seen much action lately. Then, we saw them. 'Them' was an ordinary couple walking down the street, laughing, smiling. They reminded me more of my me and my wife more than me and my wife did. The Major pointed a threatening finger at them, bringing them to my attention.
"Chuck Bartowski's your mark. NSA director wants him with a pulse, till we find out who he's working with and what he knows, he lives. The CIA skirt, you can kill."
He checked his gun and climbed out of the van. The surveillance team climbed out of their van, and followed the Major into the club that the couple had just walked into. Imunez and I stayed with the SUV.
Imunez and I tracked the progress of the team, but we only had ears. No eyes. From what I could tell, over the loud music playing, Farley was the first to go. A knife sliced through his arm and pinned him to a wall. The more he tried the move, the more pain he felt.
Imunez heard the shouts of the two new guys when they fell. It sounded like they were groaning about their knees, and possibly about a woman who was much to beautiful for her date. Lucky Bastard.
Quickly following the local guys, Wexler took a knife to a place that I would prefer not to discuss. Let's just say that he won't be getting some for a long time. Amid the shouting and singing and groans of pain, I caught the unmistakable growl of the Major:
"They're on the move! Start the van!"
I barely had the keys in the ignition when the Major sprinted out of the night club. The engine was starting to rumble as he jumped into the passenger seat.
"Go! Around Back!" He roared. The SUV shot off, I turned the corner to see a couple casually getting into a small red and white car.
"That's them. Run her down."
I gave the Major a questioning look, but knew better than to go against orders. The SUV barreled toward the couple. The man seemed pretty o.k. with the fact that I was trying to kill him. The woman seemed a little anxious. She jumped into the car, and immediately drove off... in reverse. The situation was a little odd, but I continued to follow orders.
The front bumpers of our two cars began to bounce off each other, and I could see our targets through the windshield. For the first time I noticed how truly beautiful the female agent was. I almost lost track of my orders. Almost. She was glaring at Casey while simultaneously attempting to get her partner, who I noticed was definitely out of her league, to calm down. Yeah, at that point he had gone nuts. While he had looked calm outside the car, it seemed as if he just realized that I was going to bring him serious harm.
The female agents made a wrong turn and back down a set of stairs. It was amazing that that little nerd mobile held together. I quickly continued down the street and turned the corner to find that little car a sitting duck. The Major grunted, but it was a happy grunt. So I kept driving. The SUV t-boned the car, and it spun away. Imunez noticed that the two occupants weren't hurt, and were escaping from the vechicle. This was followed by an angrier grunt.
"Back! Back!" The Major shouted.
I turned the car around, this time ready to run down the female agent. My morals were completely against it. This wasn't right, the woman was another federal agent, surely she wasn't like the other traitorous CIA agent who had stolen all those secrets. She was too... beautiful?
My thoughts were screaming at me, but my agent trained instincts kept my hands steady. I was bracing myself for hearing her scream in pain, to see her body fly up as it came into contact with the car...
"And after that I don't remember much. From what they told me at the hospital, I suffered a minor concussion. From the mission reports it sounds as if the woman had somehow raised some kind of security barrier, wrecking the SUV. Now the Major was going to be working with her and that freaky nerd guy. Something about the intersect..."
"That's enough Agent Davis."
"Sorry Ma'am."
"The wreck must have altered your memory a bit. Actually, Major Casey will be staying in the L.A. area, but only to continue the search for the intersect computer. We are fairly certain it has been destroyed. The woman you keep referring to has returned to work within the CIA, and the 'freaky nerd guy' was actually just a false lead. He had nothing to do with the actual investigation."
"Oh, well thank you for clearing that up for me, General Beckman."
"Certainly. You may return to your family, Agent Davis. We will call you if we further need your services."
"Thank you ma'am."
"Dismissed."
A/N: Well?