A/N The actual mission in Bearded Bandit was next to irrelevant, so I don't imagine I'll need to change anything in that regard.

"I'll bet she loved that."

"That is the sound of me not being amused."

"We will get your man."

"That's an affirmative."

"What's that smell?" asked Casey, holding the door as Chuck and Manoosh carried their prospective client into the room. They knocked him out, they could carry him.

"Hey, Goliath, we could use a hand here," said Manoosh, struggling to hold both legs at once.

"What, you want applause now?"

"I'd settle for an aspirin."

Sarah caught that as she came into the room from the other side. "Casey, take his legs. Put him in the conference room." Also known as the break room, and the war room, and the only room in the bunker able to hold more than two people who weren't very comfortable with each other. "Manoosh, let's go get you some painkiller."

"Bring back some smelling salts," said Chuck.

"Speaking of smells…?" said Casey again, lifting up the dropped legs.

"Carina's baking," said Sarah, and then she was gone.

Chuck and Casey stared at each other. "You know, that sounded like English," said Casey. "One of our new code phrases, maybe?"

Chuck took a breath to answer, but somehow he had no words to say, so he smiled apologetically and shook his head. They trudged into the break room and dropped the guy into a chair. Carina was standing at the other end of the room, by a little stove that barely fit in the space. She had on an apron and cute little oven mitts, with flour in her hair and batter on her cheek.

Chuck looked her over. "Maybe it's just as well our client's unconscious."

She stuck out her tongue at him.

"Baking?" asked Casey.

"Trying to," said Carina, unhappily. "I'm thinking maybe I got the big T and the little T mixed up."

"What are you making?" asked Chuck. He'd done some baking, maybe he could–

"Oat bran muffins."

Or maybe not. "No one eats those."

"I do," muttered Casey.

"Davis does," said Carina. "I want to surprise him."

"I think you will," said Chuck, and Carina to glare at him. He raised his arms defensively. "Just that you tried is a surprise."

"Better go with that," said Casey. He pointed at the short, solid disks lying on the rack. "Those are not muffins."

"You think I don't know that, Casey," she snapped at him, pointing an oven mitt threateningly. "I'm gonna use them for target practice later, though, so hands off." Just then the little oven bell dinged, and she took out a second tray. "Ha!"

"Those look better," said Casey.

"Yeah, well, the good thing about the little T is that you can always add more." She put the muffins in one of Morgan's leftover leftover boxes, and handed it to Casey. "Here."

"Aren't you gonna give them to your boy–"

"Casey!"

"–friend?"

"Of course not, these are for practice." She pushed the box against his chest and let go when his hands came up automatically to support it. "I'll give him the good ones."

"Great, thanks," said Chuck, peering into the box. "Practice bran muffins."

"Look at this way, Bartowski," said Casey, "Worst comes to worst, we can just hit our client over the head with one when it's time to take him back out."

"Save a fortune in tranq darts," mused Chuck. "You think we could get him to eat one?"

Carina sniffed, as she loaded up her cart to take all her stuff out of their conference room. "Keep it up and I won't make anything for your birthday."

Casey slid the box onto the table. "Promise?"

Gertrude Verbanski stalked through the main floor on the way to her office, but none of her employees had the nerve to bother her about anything more trivial than an invasion, if they'd had one scheduled, which they didn't. So no one bothered her.

The doors didn't slam, either. No great display of self-control on her part, she'd had them designed that way. She was a slammer when she was upset, and she never wanted her employees, or worse yet her clients, to see her upset.

She ignored all the displays around her, her trophies and treasures, personally taken from her defeated opponents. Losers, all of them.

She stopped in front of the last case, the smallest display. 'Taken from John Casey, Minsk, 1995', the plaque said. Good to see you, John.

Not that she'd seen him so far this trip, or gotten a chance to talk to him, say anything. She'd hoped to see that special look in his eyes, part fear, part lust, and partly that special 'you took my gun' hint of annoyance. The baby. He'd gotten away with her knife, but she didn't bitch about that the way he went on about this.

I missed you, John. 'Cold and harsh' just wasn't the same without someone special to share it with. When she heard his team would be part of this year's SAFE, she left Dresden with her SIC and made herself part of the show. Once they dropped in on his team's display, that hint of annoyance would have–should have–ramped up nicely, boding well for things to come. Except they didn't. Come, that is.

John wasn't there but that little geek with the remote was, and he spoiled everything. Saw the lights from the stage and called a warning. And what was that all about? Didn't they read the program?

Not that all the warning in the world should have meant anything in the face of six-to-one odds. She wouldn't even have minded if Charles had taken down a few of her men. Let him get some good exposure, do a favor for a friend. Instead, somehow Agent Charles defeated all her men and almost defeated her, making her look bad in front of all her prospective clients, and through her, the entire company.

And then what? 'Sorry?' Like he'd made a bad move in a kid's game?

This was no game. This was her life, and the lives of all the men and women who depended on her to have plans as clear as all these acrylic display cases, leading them into the fire and bringing them out again on the other side.

She touched the gun, still a weapon being used against her, even out of John's hands. She'd gotten sentimental. Sloppy, and the mere fact that there were no lives on the line this time was no excuse. She'd failed her team's trust, failed to anticipate the vagaries of war and secure her LZ, even for a dummy incursion like that one.

They should have been ready to tranq the geek. Lesson learned. Point one in her after-action report. Point two, actually. With their asses kicked that bad, point one had to be an apology for her poor leadership. She hated to make those.

Agent Charles had proven himself a challenge, and her laxness allowed him to become a threat to Verbanskicorp's leading role in the private security market. If he wanted to play in the private sector, she'd play, all right, and John would just have to watch his back.

She turned her back on the trophy, leaving John behind her, where he would have to remain. Lesson learned.

"Where's Chuck?" asked Carina.

"We're out of painkiller," said Sarah absently, her attention on the board and her earpiece. "So Chuck and Manoosh are going to the store to get some more after they drop off Mr. Sneijder, while Casey is scouting the safehouse they've got Karl's brother stashed away in."

The first part, that Chuck had managed to find the safe house already, didn't surprise Carina in the least. The second part, on the other hand…"Casey? Scouting?" She looked at the overheads, but the trees obscured the perimeter, and the rear of the house was inaccessible. The dot that indicated Casey's position was nowhere near the only road in, but it was close to the house, and Casey didn't do 'close' all that well.

"It's hunting season."

The altercation drew more and more guards to see what the noise was about.

"Look, imbecile, ducks are wetland animals," said the guard on perimeter duty.

Casey kept his face blank. "So?"

"Does this look like a wetland to you? We're in the hills!"

"Oh." Casey blew on his duck-call, looking around. He'd seen a dozen guards already, no way they'd get in by the front door. "So, no ducks here, then?"

The guard pointed down the hill. "That way."

"Oh," said Casey again, and he smiled at the guard. "Thanks."

Sarah shrugged. "It's not like he could drag around a moose."

"Only Casey," said Carina, shaking her head.

"He's just bumbling around, it's not like they're going to take him prisoner," said Sarah. "That would bring exactly the attention they want to avoid."

"Still wouldn't mind seeing Casey act like an idiot," said Carina. "On purpose, that is." She pointed back the way she came. "Uh, we just got a package, lots of electronics."

Sarah rewound the conversation in her head. Oh. "That's not for Chuck, that's for Manoosh. Ellie sent the scanner so we wouldn't have to bring him into the lab. Go set it up, would you? Put the sensors above and below his berth. Ellie doesn't want him to know."

"I don't want me to know, either," said Carina. "Why me?"

"Why not you?" asked Sarah. "You're just as qualified to insert tab A into slot B as Chuck is."

That sounded like the sort of thing she used to say. "Eww!"

"'Eww' what?"

"In Manoosh's bedroom?"

Eww. "Could be worse."

"How?"

"Manoosh could be there."

"Sorry about the whole 'Lady in the Water' thing, Chuck," said Manoosh, as they stocked up on junk food, in addition to the painkiller. "Really, if it had been any other movie–"

"I understand, Manoosh," said Chuck, selecting a couple of boxes of Hot Pockets for Casey. "I've seen it too."

"You know, like, um, Spiderman!" Manoosh held up his hands, middle fingers down in the classic pose. "Peter Parker, high school kid, amazing superpowers–"

Chuck pushed his hands down before the cashier saw them in the mirror. "That he had to learn how to use. Preferably without getting Uncle Ben or any other member of his immediate team-slash-family killed."

"No one's gonna get killed," said Manoosh dismissively. "That's the great thing about the Intersect, it's all plug and play." He started making all sorts of fighting gestures.

Chuck pulled him behind an end-cap. "Watch what you're doing, Manoosh," he said, as the bell on the front door chimed. "That lady at the desk can see us."

Manoosh looked at the mirror. "Uh, no, Chuck, I don't think she can." He pointed.

Chuck looked in the mirror, saw a man with a shotgun pointing it at the cashier. He turned back. "Manoosh…"

The young nerd had his shirt pulled up over his nose. "Wish me luck," he said and he whipped around the corner into the main aisle. Chuck peeked out, and saw Manoosh running down the aisle, accelerating his smaller mass into a missile of destruction. Reflexively, Chuck turned and took a different aisle to the same goal.

If the robber noticed Manoosh he probably dismissed him as a threat as readily as everyone else did, until Manoosh launched himself into the air. Then the man tried to bring his gun around, but it was far too late. Manoosh's feet caught him under the arm, knocking the man to the ground, his head making an audible thump! Manoosh waited, but the guy didn't get up again, and he flourished his hands with a grin. "Spiderman!" He turned to check the cashier, standing there looking boggle-eyed. "Are you okay?"

"Malocchia! Malocchia!" shouted the woman behind the counter, looking at his hands. She dropped down, and popped up again with a box of salt in her hand, and she threw some in Manoosh's face.

"Hey!" he said, holding up his hands, but it was too late. He backed away, blinking a lot, as she threw more salt at him.

The robber blinked his eyes, and saw his attacker backing away, distracted. He reached for his gun and stood, drawing a bead on the little guy who knocked him down.

Chuck reached out as the criminal fired, jerking the barrel up even as Manoosh's feet slipped on the grains of salt and he went down. The shot took out a store display and made a mess, but nothing more fatal than that. Chuck knocked the gunman out as Manoosh got back to his feet.

"Yeah!" said Manoosh, throwing his arms in the air. "That's what I'm talking about! You and me, a pair of real superheroes. Spiderman, and, and, the other Spiderman!"

Chuck polished his fingerprints off the gun. "Hey, I'm the original, you're the clone. Remember that, 'Ben'."

"It's 'Joe', isn't it?" asked Manoosh, as lights started flashing outside. The police, responding to the alarm.

"Joe was the second Scarlet Spider," said Chuck, putting the gun on the desk. He pointed to the back of the store, and the lady at the counter watched as they ran off, Chuck's voice trailing away. "And why would you want to be him, anyway, he was a bad guy. Once we get back to base you really have to brush up on your Spiderman history…"

She threw another handful of salt, just in case.

Sarah threw a blown-up still from the store's security footage onto the table in front of them. The image of Manoosh was kind of blurry, and his hands were covering his face. "Explain."

Manoosh looked down at the paper. "What's to explain?" he asked. "She was a damsel in distress, I was a hero in disguise."

"You hooked your shirt over your nose," said Casey. "And it looks like she's the one attacking you."

"It was just a misunderstanding! What was I supposed to do, let that thug rob the store?"

"Yes!" said Casey. "The last thing any of us need, especially you, is for Carmichael Industries to appear on anyone's radar any more than it already has. This could have been a ploy meant to pull us out into the open."

"According to Ellie," added Sarah, "Something is keeping the search for us alive. Until we get the all-clear from the General, any and all 'events' that happen to take place in your vicinity have to be taken with a grain of salt."

Manoosh brushed at his shirt. "Fine. There," he said, as a few grains of salt fell onto the table.

Casey pushed himself away from the table. "Nuts!"

Carina went to a closet and brought back a dustpan. "Don't worry, guys. Plenty of opportunities for superheroing where we're going," she said. "As soon as you clean up your last mess."

"But why can't we make the climb?" asked Manoosh. The cliff face was vertical, but not shear, and he and Chuck should have been able to scramble to the top in seconds.

"No damsels to rescue, Galahad," said Casey. "The rest of us don't have the Intersect, so we have to do it the hard way, unless you plan to be there for every little thing we need to have done, for the rest of our lives."

Every little thing? "I…don't think so," said Manoosh.

Heh. "Neither did I," said Casey, looping the rope around his shoulders. "So stand back and stop trying to weaken us to death." As the largest person on the team, he was the natural counterweight for the climber, in this case Sarah. Carina was lighter, but she had a more important job to do, and she raised her crossbow to do it. The quarrels weren't exactly standard issue, but they'd anchor in the rock and support Sarah's weight, and most important of all they'd do it silently.

Chuck and Manoosh stood back as Sarah began her ascent, enthralled by the athletic blonde. "Dude, you are the luckiest guy on the planet," said Manoosh.

"I know," murmured Chuck.

"I mean, after all the kidnaps and torture, you get to come home to that."

"Yeah," said Chuck, deadpan, "I'm a lucky guy, all right."

"You guys know I can hear you, right?" said Sarah.

She was most of the way up when Carina's crossbow made a different sound as she fired the next bolt into the stone. "Dammit," she muttered, bending to get a new, thicker string.

Sarah couldn't hear it but Chuck did, not that it made any difference. He couldn't yell up the cliff face to her without giving their position away, and she was already reaching for–

"Bartowski, don't!" said Casey.

The shaft pulled out of the stone, leaving her dangling by one hand as Casey hauled back to take her weight. Even with him holding her, if she lost her grip, the sudden acceleration down could very easily pull all of the other bolts out as she fell.

Manoosh took off, scrambling up the cliff face with ease. By the time Carina had a new string on her bow, he was near to Sarah, and he grabbed her hand, so she wouldn't swing. Her feet found toeholds.

Carina fired, and the bolt sank into the stone above their joined hands. Manoosh pulled Sarah's hand up so she could grab the shaft. "You got it?"

"Yeah," said Sarah breathlessly. "Thanks." She found her rope and looped it through the carabiner.

"My–my–" Manoosh blinked. "Come on, what are we waiting for?" He resumed his climb, not trying to outdistance her, just in case.

Sarah watched him go, started climbing after him. "Nothing."

By the time Sarah reached the top of the cliff Manoosh was fidgeting. BY the time she tied off the rope so the others could climb, he was gone. Fortunately Chuck didn't need the rope any more than Manoosh did. "You need to find him, Chuck," Sarah said urgently. "Something's wrong, I know it is."

"But–?"

"Get moving, Bartowski," said Casey as he climbed. "You find you spider…clone…war…guy. Let the professionals do the real work."

Chuck backed away from the multi-layered badness of that order. "Going now." He ran up the path, listening for any sign of Manoosh being Manoosh, until he practically tripped over an unconscious guard. Further down the path, he spotted a gun, and a hand not reaching for it. He followed the trail of guards to the noise, and the noise into the house.

"–punch you in the head, kick you in the nuts–"

Around the corner and there was Manoosh by another door, with several unconscious guards on the floor around him and another ready to join them.

Suddenly an alarm rang, not that any of them needed to hear it. Manoosh must have flashed, his eyes rolling white, but the last guard took advantage and knocked him out. Chuck returned the favor, and he was alone. No one else seemed to be coming to answer the alarm.

He lifted his watch to his lips. "Sarah?"

"Chuck!" she called, from the other side of the door, and he forced it open. "It's a setup! Karl lied. He just wanted to get his brother back before he could testify. This is a WitSec safe house."

Chuck looked at the pile of guards. "Oh." Manoosh's crumpled form. "Um…" At Karl's brother, his wounded hand wrapped in bandages, his eyes angry and accusing. "Sorry?"

A/N2 The Malocchia is better known as the Evil Eye, and salt is one of many counters. It is represented by a hand gesture very similar to the way Spiderman held his hands when shooting his webs. I wonder if the guys at Marvel knew that when they came up with it.