I don't own…wait, I should probably double-check…nope, still don't own "Chuck."

Chapter 1

"C'mon Charles, quit moping! We're almost there!"

Charles Carmichael looked up to see his friend looking at him from his seat across the train aisle. Morgan's face was a near-even mix of concern and annoyance. In other words, the same expression he always seemed to be wearing lately, or at least the one he always seemed to be aiming in Charles' direction. That was the main reason he'd agreed to go on this trip, not for his own enjoyment but to convince Morgan Grimes to quit pestering him about everything.

"C'mon, you can't tell me you aren't a little bit excited?" Morgan had been talking about this vacation for months. He'd even dressed up – at least what counted as dressing up for Morgan. A dress shirt, khakis, and carefully combed hair. He'd even given his beard a fresh trim.

Charles forced a smile, hoping it would mollify his friend. It didn't.

"Seriously, Charles? We're talking about the ultimate vacation experience!"

Charles shrugged. "I do appreciate it. But some make-believe fantasy world isn't really what I'm looking for right now."

"Fantasy world?" Morgan scoffed. "This is way more than make-believe. And trust me, it's exactly what you need right now. It's not just some inner child finding thing, or discovering who you are. This," he gestured at their surroundings, "is about finding who the person you really are would want to be. If you were someone completely different."

Charles looked around at his fellow discoverers. The other passangers were a wide range of ages and ethnicities, all poring over brochures or staring out the window. The one thing they all had in common was an enthusiasm for the approaching vacation destination that Charles didn't seem to share. Well, that and they all seemed to be wealthy enough to be able to afford the entry fee, which was something Morgan refused to reveal.

The train itself reminded Charles a bit of the trams that used to take people around those old Disney theme parks. He had fond memories of being in a train just like this one when he was a kid, excitedly thinking about riding on Space Mountain with his family.

To Charles, Space Mountain sounded a lot more fun than what Morgan had planned.

"Trust me," Morgan continued. "A couple of days here, and you will forget all about Jill."

Charles winced. It had been four months since his girlfriend Jill had dumped him. After five, mostly happy years, she had one day announced that she'd met somebody else and had moved all the way from California to Philadelphia. Charles had spent much of the time since then dwelling on what he'd lost. It wasn't healthy, he knew, and he could understand his friend's concern.

But still, this seemed like a strange way to get over it. "I just don't know if this is my speed. Isn't everyone that works here a robot?"

"They're not robots," Morgan corrected, "they are state-of-the-art, fully realized, hosts. You'll be amazed. You won't be able to tell who's real and who's not."

"That seems…awkward."

"Not at all! And the best part is that they are programmed to do anything you want. Anything."

Charles shivered a bit, and not out of excitement. He looked down at the brochure Morgan had given him. "But spies?"

"Yeah, spies! It's like the ultimate fantasy! Just think – beating up bad guys, gambling, meeting gorgeous women, wearing awesome threads. What more could you want? Trust me, you'll change your mind. And sooner than you think." Morgan paused as the train began slowing down. "Because we're here."

Once the train had fully stopped, the passengers slowly exited. Charles followed Morgan outside, struggling to keep up with his much-more-excited friend. Outside was a long hallway, the walls on each side a glistening silver. Every few feet, the shiny wall was interrupted by a door, and every so often the door would slide open and an elegantly dressed young woman would appear and usher a visitor inside.

Above the doors the walls were covered with various flat screens, each showing a different scene. Each involved someone fully immersed in some intense, dramatic activity, though to Charles a lot of them seemed to involve performing surgery in an operating room, various men and women in police uniforms pursuing criminals, or standing in a court room making intense speeches to a transfixed jury. He guessed that these were some of the immersive fantasy experiences Morgan was talking about, and the various patients, jurors and unfortunate pursuees were the hosts he was describing. He supposed it was impressive, though it did some like an awful lot of advertising to aim at people who had already paid to get into the park.

Eventually, all of the people in front of Morgan and Charles had disappeared into one of the rooms, and they were now in the front of the line. A moment later, a door to the right slid open, and they were greeted by a young Asian woman. She was dressed in a full-length white dress that looked quite classy while at the same time unnecessarily tight. The woman made eye contact with both guests, her face gleaming with professionally-smooth enthusiasm. "You must be Morgan and Charles," she said extending a hand, "welcome to Nonreality Brokerage Consolidated. My name is Anna."

Charles studied the woman briefly as he followed her through the door. If she was one of these robot hosts, he certainly couldn't see any evidence of it. Morgan hadn't been kidding about this company's devotion to realism.

He turned his attention away from Anna and towards the room. It turned out to be a dressing room, with row after row of two sets of identical outfits hanging from the walls. "So," Anna asked, "green or white?" She gave him an expectant look, as if the fate of the world depended on his answer.

"Uh…" Charles mumbled. "White?"

Anna nodded. "Good choice," she said, handing him a white button-down shirt and pair of dark pants.

"You want me to wear these?" To Charles, they didn't seem very spy-like.

"Of course," Morgan replied, already removing his shirt and replacing it with a green polo. Charles shrugged, and was about to begin changing when he remembered the girl in the room.

Anna smiled. "I can wait outside. If you'd like."

"Uh, that would be great," Charles answered before his friend could say otherwise.

"Ok," Anna replied, her expression unchanging. One last thing you need." She handed a couple of badges to the two men before disappearing out the door.

Charles quickly put on the new clothes, which fit him perfectly. He was less impressed by the badge. "Chuck Bartowski? That's my name here? Not really what I'd call a spy name."

"Oh c'mon Charles. You know spies can't actually have spy names right? How else do they blend in?"

"Yeah, what kind of unassuming name did you get?" Charles peered over at the badge now attached to Morgan's green shirt. "Morgan Grimes? You're keeping your own name?"

"Sure, why not? I'm not really going to do the spy thing any way."

"Wait, why not? I thought this was your idea?"

Morgan shrugged. "Sure, but this is for you. I think I'll just play the role as the trusty sidekick for now." He opened the door, finding Anna patiently waiting for them. "Besides, there are plenty of other ways to have fun here."

Charles shivered again. He was starting to worry about his friend. He never would have guessed he'd be into random hookup with a…he studied Anna closely.

"Um, this may be rude, but…are you real?"

"Charles!" Morgan admonished, but Anna was unfazed. "Well, if you can't tell, does it really matter?"

"Yes!" Chuck exclaimed at the same time that his friend said the opposite. "Of course it matters," he whispered to him. "And you'll agree with me in nine months when you find out you're the father of a bouncing baby toaster."

If Anna did in fact have bionic, robot ears and had heard Charles's comment, she didn't react to it. Whether that meant she was a host who lacked emotions or a human who lacked good hearing he had no idea. There wasn't enough time for him to consider that mystery, because the hallway was much shorter than the others, and they were soon stopped at a large set of oak doors. Engraved on a metal sign atop the doors were the letters N, B and C.

"Gentlemen," Anna announced, "welcome to your greatest fantasy." She opened the doors and Charles and Morgan walked inside.

So it's been a while. I have been meaning to write more for this site but a combination of writer's bloc and time bloc have kind of acted against me. I actually started writing this two years ago during Westworld's first season, with the intention of it being part of one of the Halloween parodies I used to do. Eventually I decided it should be expanded to something bigger, but then life really got in the way.

Now that WW Season 2 is hitting I decided it would be a good time to dust it off and get back to work. I hope you enjoy it – it's kind of stuck somewhere between using Chuck to spoof Westworld, and using Westworld to spoof Chuck.

As always, please leave comments to tell me what you think!