Chuck vs. His Destiny – Aftermath

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE – "Betrayal"

CAST (in order of appearance):
Congressman Henry Waxman – Wallace Shawn
Agent Sarah Walker – Yvonne Strahovski
Agent Bryce Larkin – Matthew Bomer
Captain Chuck Bartowski – Zachary Levi
Dr. Ellie Bartowski – Sarah Lancaster
Morgan Grimes – Joshua Gomez
Lt. Col. Marcus Wainwright – Richard Belzer
Big Mike Tucker – Mark Christopher Lawrence
Harry Tang – C.S. Lee
Lester Patel – Vik Sahay
Jeff Barnes – Scott Krinsky
Major John Casey – Adam Baldwin
General D. Louisa Beckman – Bonita Fredericy
Director Roan Montgomery – John Larroquette

August 2007

Congressman Henry Waxman stared at Sarah Walker, a perturbed look on his face. "Agent Walker, you have been most unhelpful during this hearing," he remarked.

Sarah glared at him. "You have given me absolutely no reason to be helpful, sir," she replied. "I answered the questions you asked of me, and you have still continued to treat me as if I were personally part of this conspiracy – as if I chose to betray my country, to betray Chuck Bartowski."

Waxman raised one bushy eyebrow. "Did you, Agent Walker?"

Sarah narrowed her eyes. "Congressman, my testimony is complete. You have my affidavit. Anything further can come from the CIA director's office."

With that, Sarah stood from her chair, and started toward the back of the chamber. "AGENT WALKER!" she heard Congressman Waxman shout angrily behind her. "We are not finished here!"

Sarah turned around with a half-smile on her face. "Congressman Waxman, I'm a Canadian citizen," she shot back at him. "You can't make me do shit."

She stormed out of the chamber, startling the people outside the doors as she burst through. Bryce Larkin sat across the hall from the chamber doors, a perturbed look on his face. "You know, that might not've been the smartest decision in the world," he said, indicating a wall-mounted TV as Sarah approached.

"What?" Sarah spat. "Telling a Congressman in a classified hearing that I'm Canadian? What the hell's he gonna do to me?"

"Send you back to Canada might be a start," Bryce replied, a distinctly sarcastic tone in his voice. "Do you have any idea how much trouble you could cause for the Agency?"

"Well, God forbid I cause the Agency trouble," Sarah growled. "You do realize that the Agency can lay this ALL at Director Graham's feet?"

"Yeah, well, that just makes things look worse for you, Sarah," Bryce retorted angrily. "Seeing as how you WERE personally recruited by Graham and all."

Sarah shook her head. "I know, I know, but I'll be okay, Bryce. Really."

However, Bryce seemed to have stopped listening. "You know, I just don't want to see you get yourself into too much trouble, Sarah. I mean, after working with you for the last couple months, I've realized that I really care about you a lot –"

"What?!"

"Seriously, Sarah!" Bryce said, a frighteningly sincere look on his face. "I mean, having you in my life since February – it's been great!"

Sarah's mouth fell open and her eyes narrowed. "The only reason I was in your life is because Project Omaha got massacred!"

"I know, I know," Bryce replied, shaking his head. "But the thing is, you know, I thought that it might be fun for us to go out some time –"

"Are you kidding me?!" Sarah asked in disbelief. "Bryce, where the hell is this coming from?"

Bryce looked at Sarah, his eyes wide. "Are you… uh, are you saying you don't feel the same way?"

"No!" Sarah practically exploded. "Bryce, you're a good friend, but THAT. IS. ALL!"

Bryce's shoulders slumped and his face fell. Without a word, he turned away from Sarah and started walking down the hall. "Dammit, Bryce!" Sarah said. "You can't just walk away!" He ignored her. "I'm your ride home, for God's sake!"

"I'll be fine," he muttered.

As Bryce Larkin walked away, though, something in his head finally snapped. The damage of years of guilt from letting Chuck Bartowski get involved had finally been pushed just a little bit too far.

"You'll pay, bitch," he whispered as he walked out the door of the Capitol. "You'll ALL pay."

Two days later

"I don't understand, Chuck," Ellie said. "Why are you going to the Buy More again?"

Chuck sighed, tightening the knot in his tie. "Elle, I'm on medical leave for the next six months while the Air Force tries to decide what to do with me. There is no way I can just sit around your apartment doing nothing – I'll go nuts."

"So you're gonna get a job at the BUY MORE?!"

Chuck shrugged. "Big Mike's willing to temporarily put me in the assistant manager position and let me be in charge of the Nerd Herd. It's no B-52, but it's better than nothing."

Ellie rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

As she walked out the door, Morgan climbed through Chuck's bedroom window. "Dude, I'm digging this window access," he told Chuck. "It's like my own door."

"Riiight," Chuck drawled. "The Morgan Door. Suuure."

"Dude, mock not," Morgan replied, faking offense. "Just remember who got you this job at the Buy More."

"It's not mine yet," Chuck said, shaking his head. "I still have to go in and talk to Big Mike to make it permanent."

"Oh, come on, Chuck," Morgan protested. "Your competition is the Exalted Harry Tang. I don't think you'll have a problem."

Chuck shrugged. "Harry's always been a good salesman, Morgan."

"But he's not CHUCK BARTOWSKI!" Morgan shot back.

Chuck laughed. "Right."

Bryce Larkin stared at his e-mail inbox. That one e-mail had sat in his box, unread, for the last six months.

He had decided not to open it after Fulcrum had been exposed at the Camp Omaha disaster. However, for reasons he hadn't understood at the time, he had decided to keep the e-mail.

Now he understood. This was his destiny.

Steeling himself, Bryce clicked on the link. A window popped up, asking him for his password.

Closing his eyes, Bryce typed in Mister Bates. There was silence for a moment –

"Good day, Agent Larkin," the distinctive voice of Colonel Wainwright rang out. Bryce's eyes flew open and he stared into the skeletal face of the deceased traitor.

It felt almost like receiving a message from beyond the grave.

"If all has gone according to plan, and I see no reason that it wouldn't, by now, Camp Omaha, and with it, Project Omaha, has been destroyed. That being the case, it is now up to you to destroy the Intersect."

Bryce nodded. "But where is it?" he muttered to himself.

"The Intersect is located at NASA's Greenbelt facility," Wainwright continued, almost as if he could hear Bryce. "Its specific location is within the experimental area for the discontinued X-Ray Timing Experiment project."

Bryce started scribbling furiously on a piece of paper as Wainwright spoke. "The computer itself is based on a Cray XMT. It can be destroyed with a simple C4 charge. However, the computer is inside a specialized display room. The entire room must be destroyed."

"What?!"

"If you check your e-mail, you will find one from me on December 22nd that ended with a set of coordinates. These will give you a specific location in Rock Creek Park, where you will find the necessary supplies buried."

Bryce paused the video and scrolled through his old e-mails – yep, there it was. December 22nd – latitude 38.9275, longitude -77.05.

He hit print, and quickly switched back over to the video. "Remember, Agent Larkin, wear sunglasses. You'll be sorry if you don't."

Bryce didn't quite understand that, but there was no more. The image of Colonel Wainwright faded, leaving Bryce to figure out how to carry out his monstrous act of treachery on his own.

"So you're sure about this, Bartowski?" Big Mike asked.

"Yeah," Chuck replied. "The way I see it, if I take any other job right now, they're going to expect me to make a long term commitment. I don't know if the Air Force is going to want me back or not, and I'd hate to break a commitment to go back."

"Gotta tell you, Bartowski, I wouldn't be heart-broken if you ended up staying here," Big Mike said. "I can't stand that strutting martinet Tang."

"Then why not fire him?" Chuck asked, confused.

"Oh, I have my reasons," Big Mike mumbled, staring out the window. Chuck followed his gaze –

"Mrs. Tang?" he asked, grimacing. "Really?!"

"Not a word, Bartowski, not a word!"

Chuck shook his head and stood, leaving Big Mike's office. As he exited, Harry Tang saw him, and stopped talking to his wife, heading toward Chuck with a full head of steam.

"Bartowski," Harry hissed. "Taking my job, eh?"

Chuck rolled his eyes. "Give me a break, Harry. I'm just good."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "You'll pay for this, Bartowski!"

"Wellll…" Chuck said slowly. "I think not. You see, my first act as your boss is to tell you to shut the hell up and go work the Hole."

Harry glared at Chuck. "You WOULDN'T."

Chuck shrugged and smiled slightly. "There's a line at customer service, Harry."

Chuck swore he heard the smaller man growl under his breath as he stomped off toward the customer service desk. Chuck headed toward the Nerd Herd desk, but was intercepted halfway by a pair of individuals who Chuck was sure were in the running for "World's Biggest Slackers".

"Chuck," Lester said quietly. "I understand you're back."

"Can't believe it, bro," Jeff slurred.

Chuck shook his head yet again. "I can't believe the two of you are still here."

Septeber 2007

John Casey, formerly of the United States Air Force, stood outside General Beckman's office, waiting to be admitted. He was uncomfortable in a civilian outfit, even if it did have an American flag pin and a miniature Purple Heart on the lapel.

However, after dressing down General Petraeus five months earlier, Casey had decided it was no longer in his best interests to be in the United States military. And so, he had submitted his resignation – only to get a call from General Beckman three days before.

Finally, Beckman's door opened. "Please, come in, Major," she called from inside.

Casey stepped inside – and immediately found himself unsure of what to do. He was no longer in the military, and as such, was not necessarily bound by military protocol.

His thought process was interrupted, though. "John Casey!" rasped a familiar voice from Casey's right.

His head turned, his eyes widening in disbelief. "Roan fucking Montgomery?!" Casey gasped. "I heard you were in an alcoholic coma in Palm Springs!"

CIA legend Roan Montgomery shrugged and smiled. "The rumors of my demise are somewhat exaggerated," he shot back. "See, the CIA needed a new director, and President Bush wanted to go with somebody with a good record, somebody who Congress would have no trouble approving. Therefore, not only am I not retired, but I'm Director Roan fucking Montgomery to you!"

Casey shook his head, and then turned to General Beckman. "Okay, so I understand why the alkie's here, but what about me?"

Beckman raised an eyebrow. "Major, you're here because the National Security Agency could use somebody of your talents."

"What talents? I can fly a plane."

Beckman smiled. "Major, I've seen your service jacket. You can do far more than just fly a plane. You speak Russian, you're an expert sharpshooter… and your test scores are regularly off the charts."

Casey sighed. "General, I don't know if this is such a good idea."

"Major Casey," Montgomery interrupted, "I don't believe Dianne has been quite clear here. This is not a request."

Casey's eyes narrowed, and he turned to General Beckman. Dianne? he mouthed to her. She shook her head and rolled her eyes.

"Major, it's a simple question. Are you in or out?" Beckman stared at Casey intently.

Casey smiled. "In."

Half an hour later, Casey was driving south with Roan Montgomery. "I need to make a stop in Rock Creek Park," Montgomery informed him. "Have an asset to meet with."

"Roger that," Casey replied. Five minutes later, Montgomery turned into the large urban park.

As they sat in the car, waiting for Montgomery's asset to appear, a car with government plates pulled into the parking lot. "What the hell?" Montgomery asked, sitting up straight. "Those are CIA plates!"

Casey looked across the parking lot at the car. "Hold on," he said quietly to Montgomery as the CIA director started to unbuckle his seatbelt. "Isn't that one of your field agents?"

"Yeah," Montgomery replied, recognition setting in. "That's Bryce Larkin."

"Uh-huh," Casey said, the name immediately setting off alarm bells in his head. Chuck Bartowski had told him more than once that Bryce Larkin couldn't be trusted.

Larkin disappeared into the park, but emerged ten minutes later, carrying a burlap sack. "Okay, this is just weird," Casey muttered.

"Yes it is," Montgomery concurred, turning his car on as Bryce began to pull away. "To hell with my asset, we need to see what's going on here."

Montgomery followed Bryce Larkin out of Rock Creek Park. Bryce drove for a long distance up 16th Street, into Silver Spring, before getting on the Beltway. He headed east for a while, exiting in Greenbelt and heading down Greenbelt Road.

Roan Montgomery pulled his car over about a quarter mile behind Bryce as the CIA agent slowed to a stop on the side of the road. "Where the hell are we?" Casey asked, confused.

"NASA facility," Montgomery replied, a grim look on his face.

"What?" Casey responded. "How much trouble could he possibly cause here?"

"More than you can imagine," Montgomery said quietly. "The Intersect is housed here."

"Oh," Casey breathed. "Shit."

Bryce was surprised at the lack of security around the Intersect facility. In fact, he didn't run into a guard until he was a hundred feet from the computer. Unfortunately, that guard was enough to set off an alarm.

"Shit," Bryce muttered. This was going to get exponentially more difficult.

He had to dispatch another three guards to cross the hundred feet to the Intersect. Finally, though, he reached the room where the computer was housed, and shut the door, locking himself in.

Crossing the room to the computer terminal, he opened the burlap sack. There were several pieces of plastic wrapped equipment inside, and a laminated list.

Put on sunglasses.

Bryce pulled out the Oakleys from the bag and slipped them onto his face.

Attach portable Sony computer to Intersect. Download database.

Bryce reached into the bag again and came out with a handheld miniature Vaio. Using the firewire cable that was plugged in, he hooked it up to the Intersect computer. Immediately, the Vaio came to life, and before Bryce could do anything, the room lit up with images, flashing rapidly as they were downloaded.

Bryce raised an eyebrow, but looked at the list again.

Place fused C4 on Intersect unit. Set timer for thirty seconds and activate once download is finished.

Bryce retrieved the explosive from the bag and pressed it against the side of the computer. Using the keypad on the timer, he keyed it for thirty seconds and waited.

In under two minutes, the Intersect database finished downloading. Bryce snatched the computer and hit the button on the timer. Immediately, it started counting down.

Bryce crossed quickly to the door and waited. He had decided to let the overpressure of the explosion blow the door off its hinges, taking out anybody who might be waiting for him, and expelling him from the room.

He took a deep breath as the timer reached "1", closed his eyes, and plugged his ears. A split second later, there was a terrific shock wave as the explosion slammed into him and blew the door into the hallway.

Bryce lay stunned on the floor for a moment, and then rolled to his feet. He took off running – and then realized that he didn't remember how to get out.

"Oh, fuck," he whispered. He stopped for a moment, and breathed. Look for an Exit sign, Larkin, he instructed himself.

Whipping his head around, he saw it in the dim light – the unmistakable red glow of an exit sign. He took off running and rounded the corner –

Only to see two men with guns standing in front of the door. "THERE HE IS!" one of them yelled.

SHIT! Bryce thought, throwing himself sideways. He crashed through a window and onto a roof. Rolling to his feet, he looked down. Only ten feet to the parking lot below –

He jumped –

"DAMMIT!" he hissed as he landed, rolling his ankle. "Shit!"

It was then that Bryce began to realize he might not get out of there alive. "But I've gotta get this thing out," he whispered to himself.

Then he had a revelation. "Chuck!" he said. "Of course! Chuck will know exactly what to do with this thing!"

Bryce took off running as quickly as he could with a lame ankle, programming the e-mail to Chuck Bartowski as he went. "Just need a code," he muttered. "How 'bout a little Zork, Chuck?"

He smiled as he rounded the corner, and was just about to press send –

CRACK

- when something slammed into his chest, knocking him to the ground. There was a sharp stinging pain – and then there was no pain, no feeling at all.

"HEY!" he heard as he slumped to the ground. "DON'T MOVE!"

Bryce could feel his energy rapidly ebbing. Forcing his right hand to move, he reached out to the fallen computer and hit SEND.

"Too late," he whispered with a smile.

John Casey looked on in disappointment as Bryce Larkin's computer self-destructed in a puff of flame and smoke. Gun still at the ready, he cautiously approached the body.

Larkin's eyes stared sightlessly skyward. Still keeping his gun pointed at the fallen CIA agent, Casey bent over and checked Larkin's pulse.

Nothing. Bryce Larkin was dead.

"Come on, Chuck," Morgan said. "It was nice of Ellie to throw you a party."

Chuck shook his head. "You always think things that my sister does are 'nice'," he laughed. "We all know why, too."

"Yeah, whatever," Morgan shot back. "At least people remember your birthday. Heck, it looks like Bryce Larkin even remembered your birthday."

Chuck's eyes widened and his head whipped around. "Do what now?"

"Yeah," Morgan replied, pointing at Chuck's monitor and clicking on the e-mail. "Looks like he says… the terrible troll raises its sword?"

As realization dawned on Chuck, a slow smile spread across his face. "Heh," he laughed. "It's Zork – we made up our own text-based version in college."

"Riiight," Morgan deadpanned. "Well. As entertaining as that sounds… I do believe I hear leftovers calling my name. I'll be back in a minute."

Chuck crossed to the door as Morgan exited, closing it behind him. Turning back to the computer, he cracked his knuckles and bent over. "Well, Bryce Larkin, if it's Zork you want, it's Zork you shall have!"

Placing his fingers on the keyboard, Chuck typed in the response. Attack troll with nasty knife.

He hit the "Enter" key –

And the screen went dark.

"What the hell?" Chuck asked.

Then it lit up again. Images started flashing rapidly. "Oh, shit!" Chuck yelped, realizing immediately what was happening. He tried to reach out and hit the keyboard – tried to cover his eyes – tried to make the information download stop –

To be continued…