Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck or Firefly. Wow, when I've said I don't own something besides Chuck in the past, it's usually been a throwaway comment. This time it actually has meaning…huh.

A/N: Okay, this fic will serve two purposes. (1) It will be my fic to celebrate Halloween 2009. I wanted to do one, and this was the best I could come up with. (2) It will serve to allow me to finally stretch my wings beyond just the "Chuck" fandom. Hopefully it's not a disaster.

For those of you that don't know me, good. You don't have any preconceived notions as to where this will go, haha. But no, seriously, this should be a lot of fun to read, I hope. I love Halloween (favorite holiday), and I'd hate to think that I'm giving you crap in celebration.

This all happens past "Chuck vs. the Ring" and Post-BDM in the Firefly/Serenity world. I will tell you that I'm going to try to update this once daily, with shorter chapters, as opposed to longer updates that are less frequent. Let me know what you think of that format. And this was originally going to be very short, and done by Saturday (it is a Halloween fic), but as I've talked about it with some folks I trust, I've come to realize this story doesn't deserve to be rushed.

Also, I owe a huge debt of gratitude to MXPW, and Verkisto. Both of them are fantastic authors in their own right, and you're doing yourself a disservice if you don't check out their work. And I'm honestly not just saying that because this chapter couldn't have been done without them…although that's true as well. Okay, I'll quit bugging you now, and let you read. I look forward to your feedback, and thanks for reading!

Chapter 1: Who Are These People?

Roswell, New Mexico
October 31, 2009

Three teams of NSA investigators had been sent to check on the disturbance at the secret NSA facility in Roswell, and none of them had reported back. The last report from the site had detailed the landing of a strange aircraft and, after that, communication had been broken. The best guess anyone had as to the identity of the intruders was The Ring.

That's why Team Bartowski had been sent to check on things. That facility was too important to lose to the enemy organization, and the Intersect team was really the only group that had any record of success against The Ring. So Chuck, Sarah, Casey, and a special ops team loaded up the SUVs and set out for the top-secret base prepared for another day at the office.

Infiltrate enemy territory, kill some baddies, and arrest a few to make sure you had someone to question. It was all getting so mundane. Chuck kind of wished, just once, that things would be different.

Be careful what you wish for, Chuck.

When Team Bartowski and their special ops team entered the facility, the halls were eerily quiet. If there hadn't been blood sprayed all over the walls, there would be no sign that anything had happened there at all. But there was blood. Oh, and there was also some strange aircraft with a horrible red-and-metallic paint job (Seriously, whoever owned that thing needed to get their money back.) parked just outside.

Then a drop of something wet and sticky spattered on Chuck's nose. He wiped it off quickly, inspecting it under the eerie beam of a flashlight. Yep, it was blood. Where had that come from? To find out, he made the mistake of looking up.

Ten bodies, roped together and stripped of their clothes and skin, hung from the ceiling. Chuck screamed. Yeah, he knew he sounded like a little girl, but he didn't care.

"Can it, Bartowski," growled Casey.

Sarah chipped in, a little more comfortingly. "Casey's right, Chuck, we need to be quiet. But what is it?"

Chuck merely pointed towards the bodies. The agents froze in their tracks. Even with all of their collective years in the service of their country, neither Casey nor Sarah had ever seen anything like that. They avoided a reaction similar to Chuck's, but only because of years of training and experience.

That's when they heard footsteps. And whoever those footsteps belonged to wasn't moving slowly.

The entire group, Chuck, Casey, Sarah, and the support agents, began to make their way to the exit, with haste. They were cut off at the first corner by the most horrifying looking person (was it a person?) any of them had ever seen. The man (for lack of a better word) was hideously disfigured, his face no longer resembling anything human. He stood as tall as Casey, and reeked of God knows what. The beast reached for Sarah, but she managed to evade his grasp and continue running.

The group rounded a corner into another long hallway. Chuck hazarded a quick look over his shoulder and was dismayed when he saw that more of the beasts were following them now and had almost closed the small remaining gap. When Chuck looked to the front again, he put on a little burst of speed, catching up with Casey and Sarah once more and matching them stride for stride. Suddenly, one horrified scream and then two more came to Chuck's ears as the creatures began to capture the trailing special ops agents one-by-one.

Not willing to turn around and look, Chuck wasn't able to tell just what these animals were doing to those that they captured, but if the blood-curdling screams that he heard each one voice were any indication, it wasn't very pleasant.

Finally, realizing they needed somewhere to hide so that they could regroup, Team Bartowski ducked into the next room they came upon. Slamming and locking the solid steel door behind them, they were finally able to catch their breath.

"That ain't The Ring!" Casey said through ragged gasps.

"Ya think?" Sarah asked, annoyed. "Chuck, did you flash?"

"Umm…yeah," he answered.

"Well?"

"Oh, you mean on those monsters? No, no I didn't flash on them. I flashed on Carl Lewis."

"Carl Lewis?" Sarah asked.

"Olympic sprinter?"

Sarah looked at him dumbly.

"The Intersect made me run fast," he explained.

"Ah, right," Sarah nodded. "So what now?"

"Well, this is a communications room…"

"Lines have been cut, moron," Casey reminded him.

"Remember who you're dealing with, Colonel," Chuck said cockily.

"I did," was Casey's flat reply. "My comment still stands."

Chuck ignored the quip from his NSA handler…or was it partner? Whenever he tried to get Casey to make the distinction for him, he only received a growl. For now, he would stick with handler. It just seemed safer.

The nerd made his way over to the main communications console and, pulling a USB cable from his pocket (because, he's Chuck, of course he would have one on him), he connected his wrist computer to the previously dead console, bringing it to life.

"Hello out there," Chuck said into the microphone. "Anyone? Bueller? Bueller?" Nothing. "Well, if anyone's listening, we've been attacked by these big, scary monster things that seem to skin people alive and possibly eat them. Personally, I think they're zombies, but Casey thinks—"

"They ain't zombies, kid," said a voice through the speakers of the console.

"Oh, hi there!" Chuck said.

Casey growled. "Move out the way, idiot. This is Colonel John Casey, United States Marine Corps. What intel can you provide me on the enemy?"

"I suggest you keep your ass away from them," was the simple reply.

"I'm sorry. Repeat instructions?"

"I said stay the hell away. They'll kill ya, and that's the good part."

"Who is this?" Casey asked.

"Captain Malcolm Reynolds, Firefly class Serenity. And those things after ya'll? They're called Reavers, and they ain't lookin' for a tea party."

A/N: Okay, for my first trip outside of "Chuck" (and it was a small one so far, but it gets deeper as we move along), what did you think? You can be honest. My Prozac helps me get through the tough times. I look forward to reading your reviews, and you guys are awesome. Peace.