Disclaimer: Chuck and assorted characters from his show do not belong to me. I'm just borrowing them. Also, I do not own Harley.

Author's Note: This is humor, so please don't take anything seriously. Oh, and does anyone want to beta?


Chapter 2: Great Way to Greet the Day

Slowly, painfully, and unwillingly, he came to consciousness. Bryce groaned at the headache that he was experiencing as he buried his face into the pillow. Wait a minute, that doesn't feel like a pillow. Or at least any pillow I'm familiar with.

He cracked his eyes open and laboriously lifted himself up a bit to look down on what he was laying on. At this action, he realized that his face had been buried in a voluptuous ass-crack. The horrifying realization caused him to throw himself backwards with a girlish shriek and land on his head on the floor with his legs in the air.

Much more awake now, he assessed his situation. Dark and dingy room, sparse furniture, burgundy curtains trying to shield out the morning sun, and a very large...woman...asleep face down on the bed. And he was naked.

Oh God, I'm going to be sick. He felt his mouth water and the bile in his stomach react to his surroundings and the horrid scenarios on what happened the night before going through his head. He stood up on wobbly legs and lurched around for the bathroom. However, he couldn't find it in time and instead opted for emptying his stomach in a wastebasket.

"Mornin' handsome, want to eat out a bit more?" Bryce's eyes widened to terror levels as he straightened up and slowly turned around. The woman on the bed was giving him a dazed and hungry look, more of the sex hungry than food hungry one. He refused to process her words. She did not say a thing. Not at all. Anything to keep any images from getting conjured up. Aw, too late.

"You know, I've really got to go now. I'm in a bit of a hurry. Do you know where my clothes are?" Despite the unflattering predicament, Bryce still tried to be charming. With an easy smile on his face and a jaunty posture, he tried to exude control and confidence in the situation, despite the fact that he was naked and looked horrible after a night of who-knows-what.

"Sure hon, they're right under me. If you want them," at this she pulled a gun out of one of her folds, "you better start dancing for them."


Chuck was in trouble. Trouble trouble trouble trouble. He ducked, weaved, and sprinted through alleyways trying to escape the thrum of Harley riders after him. Soon, he found himself in front of a small grocery store that he promptly dove into.

Behind an aisle of assorted snacks, he peeked around and saw the riders go past him. With a sigh of relief, he straightened up and took a look around. The cashier that he vaguely recognized from the bar last night was giving him an amused look.

"Um, hey." Chuck nervously shuffled up to the cashier, hoping to get some answers. He looked friendly enough. "I was just wondering, did you see my friend anywhere? We kind of got separated and I don't know where he is and our car is being held hostage by a Harley gang-"

"Hold on, slow down," the cashier stopped Chuck's nervous babbling. "Your friend. Wasn't he the guy getting frisky with Jabba the Slut?"

"...Maybe?"

At that, the cashier gave an impressed whistle. "I've gotta say, I commend the guy for having the balls to bed that beast."

"Yeah, well, he can't hold his liquor." Chuck couldn't find any other excuse for the display he was witness to the previous night. Seriously, if three shots of tequila can do that to him, how is he going to do on missions? Aren't spies supposed to drink a lot for the job? The importance of their mission objective to increase Bryce's alcohol tolerance became a lot salient. If only Chuck can find him.

The cashier gave a sympathetic look and decided to try to cheer Chuck up. "If it's any help, your friend must've done something to piss off the Hardriders. They typically direct people they don't like to The Slut so that she could have herself an alcohol-fueled rapey good time." Hm, that probably didn't come off as comforting as he thought it would, considering the expression on Chuck's face.

"That's horrible!"

"Eh, what are you going to do about it? Double standards and all."

"Even so, I've got to save him. Do you know where he might be? Would he still be with her?" Chuck was feeling like a lousy wingman at the moment. He didn't have Bryce's back at the bar last night, and now Bryce might be getting horribly violated at this very moment! And they had to figure out a way to get their car back. And the Harley gang they had to deal with, the Hardriders?

The cashier appraised Chuck a moment before giving in to the pity of what his friend might be going through. "Okay, I'll tell you where she is. But you have to be careful since she works closely with the Hardriders."


Jill winced as she caught a brief glimpse between the curtains of whatever heinous crime was happening in the small house. She accidently zoomed out with her spiffy new binoculars, trying to figure out how to adjust them. However, that action allowed her to see Chuck trying to be conspicuous in his approach to the run-down domicile.

She stood up a bit and picked her way down the hill, trying to stay shrouded in the hilltop shrubbery. She had vaguely heard about some sort of evil slut, and Jill could not help the burn of jealousy from wanting her man to stay away from aforementioned strumpet.


Further up the hill from Jill was Ace Chambers, another rookie Fulcrum agent. He was trying to keep track of Jill as well as the two guys she was supposed to be tailing. He was trying to keep track of who was who, but the two guys looked really similar. And he didn't take a good look at their files in the first place, so he was kind of regretting that now.


Chuck spied the abode of Jabba the Slut from around the fence of another house across the street. I hope Bryce is alright. I need a plan to save him, but what? Maybe if I run in there and use the element of surprise? Aw hell, this isn't working out. Anyways, I work best diving into a situation and hoping everything goes alright.

It was a maxim that didn't always work out, but Chuck still stuck by it. So he approached the door, looking every way for anybody who might be a bad guy. He noticed that the door was open a slight crack, so he did as he planned.

"Bryce, are you alright? I'm here to-OH MY GOD! HOLY CRAP ON A STICK! MY EYES!" Chuck burst in, but flung his arm over his eyes and stumbled back out when he was exposed to the scene before him. He tripped and ate dirt, but that pain was the least of his worries.

He tried to shake the burning images from his head and try to get his vision to focus. However, his sense of hearing registered the growling sounds of Harleys. Before he knew it or recover from the trauma, he was roughly getting grabbed and made to stand on his feet. The nerd found himself face to face with the Hardriders.


Bryce and Jabba were startled at Chuck's quick entrance and exit, but the newbie agent felt a small surge of hope for alleviation of his current humiliation. "Hold on, Chuck! Don't leave me! Please! Come back!"

"NO! NOT UNTIL EVERYONE IS WEARING CLOTHES!"

Bryce started to move to the door, but his captor cocked the gun in her hand to keep him in place. "Why don't you stay there and keep up with the entertainment? And why don't you try to lure your cutie friend in here to join you? I could use with a little more sexing up."

Bryce's stomach churned at that sentence, but he tried his best to keep it down. I am a spy. I am going to have to do distasteful things in the name of this country. Wait a minute, I'm not doing this for the good of my country. I'm doing this because I got drunk and a bunch of stuff happened last night. What have I ever done, in this life or any other, for me to deserve this?

He was interrupted when Chuck was thrown into the room by a couple of burly Harley gang members. He quickly scrambled to his feet in a daze, trying to orient himself to what was happening.

"Why, hello there cutie!" Jabba enthused, looking Chuck's frame up and down. She pulled another gun out from somewhere on her person and pointed it at Chuck, which finally forced him to focus his attention. "Why don't you give me a show, like your friend over there?"

The fully clothed nerd spared a quick glance to the pleading face on his decidedly less clothed counterpart before turning back to the lady beast on the bed. Actually, he looked to the side of her because he did not feel comfortable staring at an obese naked woman.

"Um, what will happen if I don't comply with your request?"

The Slut snorted. "Bitch, you don't have a choice." The grin on her face was quite malevolent.

"Okay," Chuck gave up. "What will happen once we do what you say?"

"You get your car back and can continue on your merry little way."

"What do you say, Bryce?"

His friend looked weary and resigned. "Let's just get this over with. The sooner we do this, the sooner we can get out and drink away these memories."


Ace wasn't really sure what was going on. It seemed like one of the guys he was supposed to tail was doing a strip tease for some town-renowned slut. Who wouldn't enjoy that? Maybe he was gay or really religious. And what was with the biker gang?

Oh well. I should make some sort of report before that Jill chick. Then the higher ups will applaud my proactiveness. I'll fill in the details later, or let them figure things out. Anyways, that's what they're there for.


The car was awkwardly silent. Chuck and Bryce were lost in their own thoughts, or trying to think things to rationalize or bury the events with Jabba the Slut and the Hardriders. Bryce pushed the car faster and faster, getting further away from the mortification he was just subjected to.

"So," Chuck started, "I guess we should work on increasing and working with our limits of alcohol consumption. You know, so that something like this doesn't happen again? I mean, that is our mission."

"Yeah."

They were starting to get into some urban areas, a welcome change from the farmland they had just been passing through. The odds of meeting Harley gangs seemed much more remote here than where they had just come from.

"Hey Bryce."

"Yeah?"

"For now, why don't we stick to urban bars and nightclubs? And we stay away from roadside bars and diners? Hopefully, we won't get into much trouble." He looked expectantly at Bryce, who was still staring straightforward with his hands holding the wheel in a death grip.

"That might be a good idea." A small grin graced Bryce's features. "And, there might be more girls. Hot girls. Actually, that place over there looks pretty good."

The place he indicated he had just passed on the other side of the road. So Bryce, being the rookie spy that he is, jerked the car over the median into traffic and tore across a couple of lanes. He did another power slide in the parking lot, and actually managed to park in one smooth stroke. Of course, Chuck screamed bloody murder the entire way.

Bryce suavely stepped out of the car, some of his earlier confidence and cockiness over being a badass spy returning (Is he a badass yet? Case in point: this chapter). He strode up to the line where a bouncer was doing his bouncing thing.

"Come on Chuck, we're two guys on a mission here! Let's see how much more we can handle."