A/N: Since Chapter 6 of Dunder Mifflin is undergoing a semi-major overhaul, I figured I should get started on the side story I promised several reviewers a while back. It'll be a series of one-shots featuring Team Chuck and occurring within the confines of Dunder Mifflin Scranton. Here's the first (and most-requested) installment, in which Dwight meets Casey. Much like the main story from which these ideas grow, it has been upgraded by the tireless efforts of KathGrangerPotter.

The poll for my next stories is still open - keep the votes coming! Also, if there are any scenarios you'd like to see in this series, let me know in a review or PM and I'll see what I can do.

And now, a haiku:

I do not own Chuck

Nor do I own the Office

Curse you, NBC!

Chapter 1: Casey vs. the Deputy Security Officer

Dwight stepped through the doors of the most prominent building in the Scranton Business Park at precisely 8:00 AM, as was his custom. He'd taken his usual route to work, parked in the same space he used every day, and eaten the standard bagel with homemade beet-flavored cream cheese for breakfast. The next step in the routine was the stop at the security desk to ask Hank if he had new orders for his deputy. The fact that he hadn't received any in his three years on the job was no excuse for not remaining vigilant.

Dwight pulled up short before reaching the desk as he realized that the man sitting behind it was definitely not Hank. Recovering quickly from the initial surprise, he cautiously approached the interloper.

"Where's Hank?" he demanded.

The other man stared him down calmly for a long moment before replying. "He retired."

Dwight shook his head insistently. "He never would have done that without telling me first."

"Oh?" The look on the face of Hank's apparent successor was somewhere between tolerance and amusement.

"As deputy security officer for the building, I am intimately connected with Hank's work in the building. Frankly, I would have expected to be involved in the hiring process for his replacement. How can I be sure you're competent to serve as the first line of defense for this building?" Dwight challenged.

A cold-eyed stare accompanied the response. "I have this," the man said, shoving a badge reading Security under Dwight's nose. "Which means that the people who own this building think I'm qualified. And their opinions, not yours, are the ones that matter."

Dwight stalked off angrily, eyes flashing with the determination to prove his value to the safety of the building. As he rode the elevator up to the second floor, his active mind began piecing together a plan of attack.

He was going to need some help.

"You want me to what?" Andy demanded.

"Assist me in determining whether the new building security supervisor is capable of handling the job adequately," Dwight repeated.

"Have you seen the guy? He looks like he went to the Cornell of military schools."

Dwight sneered slightly. "Looks can be deceiving. You certainly don't look like you went to the Cornell of normal schools, and yet you did," he pointed out.

"That's true – I definitely did attend there," Andy conceded. "But looks aren't always deceiving. Jim looks like a handsome, talented slacker, and that's pretty much exactly what he is."

Dwight hesitated, nearly convinced, before realizing that Andy was attempting to use his disdain for Jim against him. Scowling slightly, he decided to demonstrate that two could play at the game of manipulation. "Let me ask you something, Andy. How would you like to be a hero?"

"I don't see how harassing the new security guard makes someone a hero," Andy protested.

"Oh? So you're saying that if there was a terrorist attack on this building, and the new, competent security supervisor was able to prevent it, the two people responsible for the firing of the previous one who didn't know what he was doing wouldn't be heroes?"

"I hadn't thought of it like that," Andy admitted.

"This is your chance, Andy. Your chance to be more than just a paper salesman," Dwight cajoled.

"All right!" he exclaimed excitedly. "I'm in."

Dwight approached the security desk slowly, giving himself time to assess the situation. The man behind it was eating his lunch, seemingly oblivious to the world around him. "Excuse me," Dwight interrupted.

"Yeah, what is it?" the other man questioned gruffly.

"I was wondering if you'd be interested in a tour of the Dunder Mifflin offices. Perhaps you could meet some of the people whose lives rest on the adequate performance of your duties," Dwight offered.

The security officer scowled. "Pass."

"I'm sure they'd all like the opportunity to meet their courageous protector," Dwight wheedled. "There may even be some appreciative females in the office," he added conspiratorially.

The target snorted derisively. "Fine, if it'll get you to leave me alone."

Dwight grinned, knowing that the man's bluster was merely an attempt to cover the fact that he'd been lured into a classic honey trap. "If you'll just come this way," he pointed toward the elevator. As the new employee passed him, Dwight grabbed one of his shoulders to spin him around and threw a carefully aimed punch at the man's face.

Most accurately-directed punches have one of two results. They connect, resulting in the gaining of an advantage in the struggle, or they are deflected or dodged. This one had neither. Dwight's eyes widened in surprise as he watched his target's head dip slightly and thrust forward, meeting his oncoming hand earlier than expected. A crippling bolt of pain shot down his arm, and his wrists were both pinned behind his back before he had a chance to realize that the man had headbutted his fist.

"Moron," the subject muttered. "Did I pass your stupid little test?"

"Yes," Dwight gasped desperately. "Can you let me go now?"

"Not until your friend stops whatever he thinks he's accomplishing by crawling behind my desk while you bothered me," came the belligerent reply.

Undeterred by the easy discovery of his backup test, Dwight's tone quickly shifted from pleading to instructional. "A terrorist wouldn't stop what he was doing just because you captured one of his allies," he pointed out.

"Well, a terrorist wouldn't find anything interesting in my desk anyway… unless he looked in the third drawer on the left."

Dwight scoffed. "Please. That's such an obvious trap, only an idiot would…"

"Ahh! My eyes!" Andy screamed.

"Well played," Dwight conceded.

"Now, if you two fine citizens will leave me alone, I have to recharge that mace canister."

Dwight nodded. "Of course. Let me first just say that it'll be an honor working with you to make this building safer."

The only response was a grunt, which Dwight interpreted as agreement. As he led the still-complaining Andy toward the elevator, he glanced over his shoulder and added a final offer to his new ally. "You're obviously capable in hand-to-hand combat, but if you'd like to learn a few techniques using the various forms of weaponry common in martial arts, I would be happy to assist. My dojo is available to you any time."

"My assessment of the building matches that of its CIA purchasers," Casey reported later that evening. "The single entrance makes it relatively simple to secure, and the wide glass windows in the entryway provide excellent lines of sight to the surrounding area. It will be a far better location for the asset than the undefendable, constantly crowded Buy More."

General Beckman nodded. "What is your first impression of the building's occupants?"

"My interaction with most of them was limited. However, one of the salesmen at the paper company has apparently been appointed as a deputy security officer, and felt the need to test my qualifications."

Casey was almost sure that he saw a grin flicker briefly across the General's face. "Did you pass?" she asked in an impressive deadpan.

"I believe so, ma'am. However, this individual may pose problems for us in the future," he warned. "He seems quite paranoid, and could become suspicious if he notices any of our security measures around the building."

"In that case, the best course of action would be for you to co-opt him," Beckman instructed. "Enlist his help in watching for unusual activities, and deflect his attention away from anything he notices about your team."

Casey grimaced. He knew it was the right call, but that didn't make the order any more pleasant to carry out. "Yes, General." Her face disappeared from his television, and his eyes drifted to the ceiling in a silent plea for patience.

"I hate this assignment."