Chuck Vs. The Omni


Chapter 2: Auction Briefing

The Castle briefing room in Orange Orange, 2008

"…Wilhelm Julian is considered a mad-scientist of sorts, a tinkerer. His last venture left him nearly bankrupt."

"What was he tinkering?" Chuck asked. "I haven't heard that word in a long time. It's kinda cute. Reminds me of Gepetto or something." He resisted the urge to imitate a marionette when Casey elbowed him hard.

Beckman's mouth twitched annoyed. "Julian tried to manipulate the elements, but hardly succeeded. The man's a shrewd lunatic that constantly uses dated methods. He's been of little consequence in the past few years since he appeared on our radar."

"So what's his game now, General?" Casey wondered.

General Diane Beckman stared at her team stonily. "We have reason to believe he's creating incendiary technology for the purpose of generating man-made earthquakes."

Chuck's eyes widened. A strong notion came to him and he raised his hand.

"Yes, little Chuckie? This isn't kindergarten." Casey scoffed. "Say what you gotta say."

Sarah sighed and held Chuck's arm gently. "What is it? You usually have great brainstorms."

"Thanks, Sarah. I just thought that Julian is involved in this auction and it's being held in honor of the 1906 San Francisco earthquake. What if he plans on recreating that event? Do you realize how much more devastating that could be? That fault line is already weakened as it is."

"Nice one, Bartowski. That guess is as good as any." Casey mused.

"That's right, Chuck. It's strange how there's barely any intel on this guy." Sarah said.

Beckman coughed for their attention. "The auction is being held tonight at the Palace Hotel at 9:00pm. I want you three to attend and see what else Chuck might flash on. Work out the particulars for yourselves. I expect a report in the morning."

Beckman switched off her monitor and Chuck clapped his hands enthusiastically.

"Okay! I already considered this…what if I go in as Charles Carmichael looking to procure certain antiques?"

"Not bad, Bartowski. You and Sarah can attend as prospective buyers." Casey said.

"Yes, then whatever you flash on, you bid on. I'll be your backup bidder, because there'll be other attendees in the race. Either way, we'll procure the object and figure out what his plans are." Sarah smiled at him.

Chuck gazed at her affectionately. Sarah supported his ideas as much as she could. Casey noticed their googly eyes and rapped the table.

"Don't be hasty, Bartowski, and don't get off track. The Government will not be paying for your sudden fancy to own Edison's phonograph."

"Got it, Casey! So…what will you be doing? Waiter? Bartender? Or the usual, Chauffeur?"

Casey smirked. "None of the above, I'm the Auctioneer."

Chuck laughed. "No way! Casey, auctioning is an art. It takes skill, finesse…"

"Excuse me? What. Did. You. Say?" Casey inched forward and Chuck backed up. Casey laughed inwardly. That intimidation tactic never failed.

"Uhh…I said, sure! Not that you don't have finesse…but…you know what I mean. Can you even recite Betty Botter? All auctioneers know that one."

Casey rolled his eyes and cleared his throat. He stood at smug attention. "Betty Botter bought some butter, but she said the butter's bitter. If I put it in my batter, it will make my batter bitter. But a bit of better butter–that would make my batter better. So, she bought some better butter, better than the bitter butter. And she baked it in her batter, and her batter was not bitter. So 'twas better Betty Botter bought some better butter."

Chuck and Sarah stared amazed, his voice resonated smooth as silk and he didn't stumble over one word. He never failed to surprise them.

"Is that good enough? I can also recite Peter Piper and She sells seashells? Backwards even."

Chuck waved his hands. "No, no…you're good, Casey. I hope everything will be okay."

Sarah nodded. "I think so, we've been through much worse. Just pay close attention to whatever Casey holds up, he'll direct it your way first. We'll be there early so he can set up and we can get good seats close to the front. I'll make all the arrangements now. Don't be nervous, we're only there to bid and flash…unless things get out of hand."

Casey grimaced as he remembered the poison gas that nearly killed him a few months ago. But that wasn't half as frightening as the fact that Chuck kissed him because he'd imagined he could supply the antidote with his saliva. It took Casey two days of downing scotch on the rocks and half a bottle of Listerine to fully get over it. He gripped Chuck's shoulder tight.

"That's right, Chuck. This part of the mission should be no muss, no fuss, and all Intersect, don't screw it up!"