May 12, 2010
Chuck Bartowski was not going to work today.
To hell with it. It was a Wednesday. The casino would be perfectly fine for one weekday without him. The sportsbook wouldn't be that hectic tonight – the Kings were out of the NHL playoffs, Lakers-Suns didn't start until Monday, and the Dodgers were in Phoenix tonight. The flow of students recently out of Arizona's state universities had ebbed, and the pockets of most Angelenos were starting to empty, not to be refilled until paydays over the weekend.
That meant that Woodcomb Hollywood could spend one day without Chuck Bartowski.
He had spent most of the day at home, with G4 on the TV in the background, while he pored over the schematics he had put together for the Intersect computer. He felt like he was on the verge of figuring out the issue, but it kept slipping through his fingers.
And quite frankly, working on a computer kept him very much the hell out of the public eye.
Chuck was sick of the public eye. If it wasn't Vivian MacArthur, it was Sara Underwood. And then, apparently, some enterprising soul had done a remarkably good job (Chuck GRUDGINGLY admitted) of Photoshopping some pictures of him and Mythbusters tech Kari Byron having a bit of frisky naked fun time on a secluded beach.
It had actually taken TMZ nearly a day to figure out that those were fakes.
Attack of the Show had just come on G4 – It's 4:00 already?, Chuck thought - when the doorbell rang.
"Curious," he muttered. "I'm not expecting anybody."
Nonetheless, he rose and crossed the living room. He would be the first to admit that he was in no shape to be greeting anybody – a ratty old Nintendo t-shirt, holey jean shorts, a full day's scruff, and hair that looked like an entire zoo was perched on Chuck's head adorned him at that moment (he HAD at least managed to shower). But he didn't give a rat's ass -
Right up until he opened the door. "Oh, Christ," he uttered, looking out at the nearly perfect-looking Sarah Walker.
An amused grin appeared on the face of his director of security. "Catch you at a bad time, Chuck?" she asked.
"Uh, no, not at all," he lied through his teeth. "Uh, would you like to come in?"
"Why not," Sarah replied. "Of course, that is, if your apartment's in better shape than you are?"
Chuck snorted. "Wouldn't take much," he muttered, pushing the door all the way open so Sarah could step into the apartment.
"Hmmm, not bad," she said, a note of humor still present in her voice. "What are you working on here?"
"Eh, just a computer my dad's building," Chuck replied. "I think I'm actually gonna take a break for a little while and watch some TV."
"What are you watching?" Sarah asked. "Is that... are they talking about video games on TV?"
Chuck smiled. "Every day," he replied. "That's what G4 is. It's video games and the occasional entertainment news."
But as he watched, his face fall. "Oh, come on," he muttered. "Really?"
On the TV screen, in living color, was none other than Sara Jean Underwood, filling in as Kevin Pereira's co-host. Chuck had, the day before, gotten Vicki to have a HUGE Edible Arrangements basket sent to Sara, with a heartfelt apology for dragging her into his crap attached. In response, he had gotten a phone call from her. "It's alright, Chuck, really it is," she replied. Then she had suggested that they should get some coffee, or grab a drink, because she needed a friend or two who was clearly as big a nerd as her.
That had practically bowled Chuck over. He knew he realistically didn't stand a chance with a former Playboy Playmate, but maybe hanging out with her would get Ellie off his back about finding somebody (for once). Also, it was a breath of fresh air to hear Sara admit to being a gigantic nerd.
Tell the truth, Chuck's conscience chided him. You're just interested in a different Sara...h.
Chuck pushed the voice away. He barely knew Sarah Walker. They had just met nine days prior. Sure, she was beautiful, and kind, and funny, and apparently cared enough about him that she had come to check on him -
"That's Sara Underwood, huh?" Sarah said, breaking into his thoughts. "She's pretty. And you honestly didn't have sex with her?"
"I. Did. Not," Chuck replied firmly. "I swear to God, fixing her computer was not a euphemism for anything."
Sarah nodded. "I believe you," she replied. "Now, as long as it's safe, I'm going to sit down on the couch and watch TV. Care to join me?"
Invited to sit on his own couch? "Uh, okay," Chuck said, grabbing his big container of cheese puffs from the table as he went.
He sat down on the couch next to Sarah, and over the next twenty minutes, found himself surprised – but pleased – at the fact that she seemed to have a pretty good grasp on every geeky, dorky, nerdy thing that spilled out of the show.
Then Kevin Pereira threw to Blair Herter for "The Feed". Blair talked some about the iPhone 4, about the game "Steam" coming to Mac platforms, and Microsoft apparently aiming the full might of the Evil Empire at Google Docs.
"But all that pales in comparison to the latest news about Los Angeles' most eligible nerd," Blair said, causing Chuck to stiffen. Oh, God, now what?
"Yes, Chuck Bartowski, the chief operating officer of Woodcomb Hollywood Entertainment and self-proclaimed nerd, has been making quite the splash in the public world lately," Blair continued, causing Chuck to groan.
"Goddammit," Chuck moaned, slowly sliding off the couch and onto the floor. Glancing up at Sarah, he saw her take an amused look down at him – and then her eyes flicked right back up to the screen.
"Just a couple of weeks ago, Chuck was spotted by TMZ in the company of Vivian MacArthur, daughter of Russian arms magnate Alexei Volkoff. Then, just a couple days ago, TMZ spotted him going into – and MUCH later, coming out of – the hotel room of our very own Sara Underwood."
"And like he told Kevin and Bean yesterday," Sara broke in, "all he was doing was fixing my computer."
"So... that's not a euphemism?" Blair asked.
"No."
"Just fixed your computer."
"Yes."
"Didn't have sex with you?"
"No."
"Just rumors."
"Yes."
Blair raised an eyebrow. "Would you actually tell us if... well, you know?"
The shot cut back to Sara. A mischievous grin appeared on her face. "Noooo..."
"WOULD A STRAIGHT UP DENIAL HAVE KILLED YOU?" Chuck shouted at the television.
He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, and looked over to see that Sarah had moved to the floor, and was now sitting next to him. "Calm down, Chuck," she said, although the amused grin stayed glued to her face. "Don't want you setting off the Vita-Tracker."
Chuck cast an angry glare down at the watch, and then looked back at the TV screen.
"After Chuck's denial that he and Sara did the hanky-panky, a set of pictures surfaced that appeared to show him doing naughty things with Mythbusters host Kari Byron at a beach in Malibu. However, a few hours later, TMZ had debunked those as Photoshopped.
"HOWEVER!" Blair paused and looked directly at the camera. "In the immortal words of the Dude... 'New shit has come to light.'
"Just a few minutes ago, TMZ posted a story that they say came from a Mr. Stavros Demitrios, the former boyfriend of one Ms. Lou Palone, the executive chef at the Viper Hotel and Casino -"
Chuck sat bolt upright, his face going pale white. "FUCK."
"Apparently, not quite a year ago, he walked in on Ms. Palone, playing a game of hide-the-salami with Mr. Bartowski. Now, obviously, TMZ is generally loathe to accept uncorroborated stories -"
"I'm moving to Luxembourg," Chuck muttered. "They don't have TMZ there."
"However, Mr. Demitrios was able to present TMZ with several pictures he took on his phone, and after fairly intense study, TMZ has apparently concluded that they are, in fact, the Real McCoy."
And that's when a picture popped up on Chuck's TV screen. It was covered in a few areas with pixelation, and was a relatively grainy photo – but there was no question that it was a picture of Lou, bent over a service counter in the Viper's kitchen, with Chuck behind her, and they were both very, very naked.
"GODDAMMIT!" Chuck shouted. Picking up the cheese puff container, he hurled it at the TV. The container itself bounced harmlessly off the screen, but its contents exploded onto the floor, leaving cheese puffs all over the carpet and a fine orange dust hanging in the air.
Chuck's head dropped until his chin was touching his chest. "Fuck my life," he muttered.
Across town, at the Chateau Marmont, Bryce Larkin sat at his laptop, looking dumbfounded at TMZ's website. "Oh, my God," he muttered to himself. "Chuck, you've stepped in it all the way up to your knees, bucko."
Woody Woodcomb held his head in his hands. "For Christ's sake," he groaned. "Really? REALLY?"
"So he had sex, Dad," Devon said irritably, not at all pleased with the fact that he was sitting in his father's office. "Men, especially powerful men, tend to do that. You of all people should know."
Woody turned and glared at his son. "Exactly what the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"Wow, Chuck Bartowski is... pretty impressive when he's naked."
Richard Castle's eyes widened, and in one swift, fluid motion, he whirled around and slammed the lid of Alexis' laptop shut.
"You are sixteen, young lady!" he snapped. "I don't want to hear those words come out of your mouth again until you're at least forty!"
John Cooper and Ben Sherman were both hunched over the monitor. "Unbelievable," Cooper said. "He's got to realize there are always cameras. ALWAYS cameras."
"Says the man who got caught getting road head by a red light camera," Sherman cracked.
"Gentlemen!"
The two officers whirled to face Sheriff Beckett. "Don't you two have work to be doing?"
"Yes, ma'am!" they both answered, and disappeared.
Kate looked at the monitor on the desk Cooper and Sherman had just vacated. "Chuck, Chuck, Chuck," she sighed. "Oh, Charles."
Sarah Walker stood outside the door to Chuck's bathroom. "You can't stay in there forever, you know," she called through the bathroom door.
"Like hell," Chuck shot back. "I'll just stay here until December 21st, 2012. The world ends then anyway, right?"
Sarah shook her head. "You don't actually believe that, do you?"
There was silence for a moment. "No..."
"Chuck, you've got to come out and face the world some time," Sarah said.
"But it's not fair!" Chuck raged. "I have done NOTHING wrong, but I'm suddenly Chuck Bartowski, Nerdy Sex Machine!"
Sarah chuckled. "Not sure I would go THAT far," she replied. "And you're right, you didn't do anything wrong. But you still have to face it."
"I shouldn't have to," he grumped. "I mean, I'm a VERY influential person, but all this power I have, and I... can't..."
His voice trailed off, and he was silent for a moment. "Chuck?" Sarah asked, praying that he hadn't done something stupid.
"Power," she finally heard him mutter. "POWER!"
The bathroom door was flung open, and Chuck marched out, turning toward his bedroom. "Power is the answer!" he declared, slamming the bedroom door shut behind him.
"Chuck, what are you talking about?" Sarah called after him, following him to the door of his room.
"I can't talk about it," he replied. "Top secret nerd work!"
An hour later, Chuck's Prius coasted to a stop in front of his parents' house in Encino. He had successfully convinced Sarah to head back to the Viper, and he had himself headed for Fry's Electronics in Burbank.
The answer to the Intersect's problems had been so simple – power. Looking over his schematics, Chuck realized that his father had been using nearly a dozen cobbled together power supplies. The inconsistent voltage and amperage was causing shorts, crashes, blown circuits, and so on and so forth. "With one REALLY powerful unified power source," he had concluded, "it should work just fine."
And so, armed with said power source, a pair of wire cutters, and an infrared frequency spoofer that he was ABSOLUTELY NOT supposed to have (and which he was quite sure Kate Beckett would arrest him for having), Chuck marched into his parents' house. They were both out of town, so he knew he would have some quality alone time with the Intersect.
Entering the living room, he pointed the frequency spoofer at the fireplace and pushed its power button. Numbers cycled on the screen for a few seconds, and then the hearth silently slid aside, revealing the stairway into Stephen Bartowski's secret lair.
Filled with a sense of purpose, thoughts of Vivian MacArthur, Sara Underwood, and Lou Palone banished from his mind, Chuck made his way through the lair to the Intersect room. Entering it, he turned on the lights and went straight to the cobbled-together computer.
Unplugging the solitary wiring harness connecting the computer to the many and sundry power supplies, Chuck pulled them off of the assembly. Unpacking the shiny, large power supply he had just purchased, Chuck placed it onto the assembly, and then very carefully began stripping wiring harness wires in order to power the many different components with the one power source.
A mere thirty minutes later, Chuck had everything seemingly hooked up in the right place – and like any good nerd, he had to do a test run, to make sure his work had done the right thing. So, he stood up, crossed to the front of the computer assembly, and entered the key sequence to bring the computer online.
As it had before, the entire room went dark, and then each panel lit up with a blue screen. But unlike the last time Chuck had seen the Intersect turned on, it didn't say INTERSECT OFFLINE.
No, this time, it said:
INTERSECT ONLINE.
CIPHER PRESENT.
PRESS "ENTER" TO CONTINUE.
Okay. So everything was up and working properly. However, he had to make sure it could perform under full load, which meant actually running the thing.
"Here goes nothing," Chuck muttered, reaching out and striking the "Enter" key -
And everything went dark again – and stayed dark. "Dammit," Chuck sighed. "I knew it couldn't be that sim-"
Without warning, every panel lit up again – except this time, they were filled with flashing sequences of images. "What the hell?"
Chuck tried to reach out to hit "Enter" again – but found himself quite unable to move. In fact, he found he couldn't look away from the flashing images in front of him. In fact, he found that he could no longer think -
Tristan Ceres had drawn Vita-Tracker duty for that evening. She was sitting in the security office, watching the bank of monitors – one labeled WW, one labeled CB, one labeled DW, one labeled SW, and one labeled BM – the last labeled as such largely because Mike Tucker had an entirely juvenile sense of humor.
Everybody's monitors had been just fine for her entire shift – and then Chuck Bartowski's went berserk.
His vitals jumped through the roof, and the monitor started screaming bloody murder. "Oh, shit!" Tristan gasped.
Reaching out, she hit the security panic button. That would have Vicki Dunwoody and Sarah Walker down there in under a minute.
Thirty-five seconds later, Vicki ran through the door, followed by Sarah less than five seconds after that. "Who is it?" Vicki barked.
"Mr. Bartowski's tracker has gone nuts!" Tristan exclaimed. "I don't know what's going on -"
Sarah's face had gone white. "Oh, God, what did you do, Chuck?" she breathed. "Where is he?"
Tristan whirled to the monitor and typed in a command. "Encino," she replied. "18071 Kittredge Street."
"Call Kate Beckett, get a car over there on the double," Vicki ordered. "I'll get L.A. Fire. Director Walker -"
But Sarah was already gone.
Chuck Bartowski – Zachary Levi
Sarah Walker – Yvonne Strahovski
Kevin Pereira – himself
Sara Jean Underwood – herself
Blair Herter – himself
Bryce Larkin – Matt Bomer
Woody Woodcomb – Bruce Boxleitner
Devon Woodcomb – Ryan McPartlin
Alexis Castle – Molly Quinn
Rick Castle – Nathan Fillion
John Cooper – Michael Cudlitz
Ben Sherman – Ben McKenzie
Kate Beckett – Stana Katic
Tristan Ceres – Summer Glau
Vicki Dunwoody – Stacy Keibler
Author's Note: So, what just happened? Oh, you know what just happened. Let's just say that Chuck should have a MUCH easier time identifying parts of the Goya Cartel after this little incident...