CHUCK VS. THE MONTH OF SHOCKTOBER
BY
BOB WRIGHT
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi, I'm Chuck, and here's a few things you probably need to know...or maybe you just forgot...
Setting, first and foremost. Let it be known this story takes place approximately a quarter of the way through Season 4, roughly right before the events of Chuck Versus the Aisle of Terror, with the characters more or less as they were at that point in time.
Now, a word on canon: for the most part, it is the nature of this author to stick as close to established canon in his stories as possible. For this story, however, in the interests of telling the story said author wished to be told, there will ultimately be a few notable deviations from the canon seen on air, although the overall arc of the show in canon will remain mostly the same nonetheless. One could, however, if themselves are a firm believer in canon, approach this story from the angle of it perhaps being entirely in Chuck's mind. Or you could choose to see it as-is. The choice is up to you the reader(s).
And lastly: Chuck and all related characters and indicia are registered trademarks of Warner Brothers Television, College Hill Pictures, and Wonderland Sound and Vision. And now, as always, sit back and enjoy the story.
"...so, it is my honor to finally give you the Spy Attack game you ordered live in person," Chuck Bartowski explained to the beaming boy in front of the Nerd Herd desk, handing him a cartridge complaining the video game in question.
"Thanks," the boy commended him, eagerly taking the game.
"But don't think we won't forget how badly you Buy More people botched the rollout," his father sternly warned Chuck, thrusting a finger in his face, "A three week wait after you openly said you would have enough opening night, that's terrible even by your own pathetic standards."
"Yeah, uh, well, I myself did not have any control over that, sir," Chuck explained, "I'm just the tech guy here, well, most of the time, and you'd have to talk to our manager or assistant manager for the specifics on game acquisitions..."
"Well when you see him, tell him this: my boy waited a long time for that game," the father told him sharply, putting an arm around his son, "And if he blows it with the next big game that comes out too, I'm going to ram the game cartridge right down his throat."
"Uh, well, you shouldn't really go that far right off the bat, sir; it kind of leaves you with nowhere else to go from there..." Chuck tried to explain, but the father and son were already walking off. He shook his head. At least the fact Buy More didn't have enough Spy Attack games opening night wasn't his fault-he had been too busy putting up with his own spy attack, as it had been, that night anyway.
"No problems, Chuck?" Morgan Grimes, looking spiffy in his manager's suit-one Chuck could never have imagined his best friend wearing just three years ago-approached the Nerd Herd desk now.
"Not this time, Morgan, although I'd keep a lookout for that guy if he comes back the next time we have a game release," Chuck pointed at the father, exiting the Buy More with his son, "He's the third Spy Attack buyer to imply physical violence if we blow another game rollout."
"Ah," Morgan shuffled about uncomfortably, "Well, at least we know nobody could get away with violence in here anymore, huh buddy?" he asked, glancing knowingly around the Buy More, now loaded with NSA and CIA cameras and other defensive apparatus now that the Burbank store was a government spy substation, unbeknownst to the usual shopping public.
"Hopefully not," Chuck said, his mind flashing with images of angry enemy spies storming the store and blasting away with extreme prejudice. And if they worked for the seemingly now omnipotent Alexei Volkoff...
A loud snore to his right made him turn to see Lester Patel, predictably, sound asleep at his Nerd Herd station. Chuck shook his head softly. "Oh Lester..." he patted his co-worked on the shoulder, making Lester awake with a jolt. "It was only four bottles of booze, Officer!" he declared out loud worriedly.
"Yeah, Lester, but could we at least try to stay awake during business hours," Chuck advised him, "I know we have a low customer service reputation to live up to, but let's not go lower than that low point."
"Hey, I'm celebrating the Hinjew holiday of Rest Hashanah; I nap from nine to five on the holiday," Lester explained with a goofy grin.
"In other words, the entire work day," Morgan nodded knowingly, "I know, Lester, another one of your imaginary holidays to avoid working..."
"Which you, Morgan Grimes, would happily have done as well not that long ago," Lester pointed out with a frown.
"The old Morgan Grimes, yes, Lester, but you are looking at the new and improved version," Morgan said, stroking his beard, "So you can do what you want, Lester Patel, but please don't make the rest of us look bad while you do it."
He started to walk away from the Nerd Herd desk-then yelped and stumbled as a cracking sound rang out. Chuck looked over the front of his desk, and immediately slapped a hand to his face: one of the trapdoors leading down into Castle had partially given way, leaving one of the now flat on his rear end Morgan's legs dangling down the chute, to the laughter of customers nearby. No need for me to do that, Morgan; you're doing really good on your own," Lester told him mockingly, "Boy the termites must have done a number on the floor..."
"Spill on Aisle Three," a customer jokingly called out, prompting another cascade of laughs. Morgan heaved himself back to his feet, dusted himself off, and gestured for a few nearby employees to fix the hole. Chuck suppressed his own laugh. Any respite from the dangers of the spy game was a blessing for him.
He glanced around the store, now decorated for Halloween, which was filled with the usual crowd of regular customers looking for the best in electronics, as well as a few spies passing off critical information to other spies on the staff now. It had been a week since Chuck's last mission, and he was enjoying the downtime, as it was giving him more time to concentrate on a pressing current personal matter...
His mind was abruptly jolted from his thoughts as his gaze fell on one of the TVs along rear wall, which was running a promo for the upcoming noon newscast-a promo featuring a familiar headshot over the words BUY MORE FOUNDER ASSAULTED IN HOME. "What?" he frowned. "Lester, where's the remote?" he asked his co-worker worriedly, "I'd like to see what this is about," he gestured at the TV in question, which had switched to a commercial.
"Huh? Oh uh, it's right...around here somewhere..." Lester threw open the Nerd Herd desk's drawers and started tossing random items everywhere. Sighing, Chuck joined him in the search, finally finding the remote in the last drawer on the left. He seized it and rushed to the TV, turning up the volume right as the newscast began. "...afternoon, I'm Joe Nichols," the anchor declared, "Our top story this afternoon: Moses Finklestein, founder of the Buy More electronics store chain, is in serious but stable condition after being violently assaulted inside his home on Coldwater Canyon Boulevard last night. Police say that at approximately three o'clock this morning, they received a call from a maid screaming that intruders were breaking in. When authorities arrived twenty minutes later, they found Mr. Finklestein, his wife, and three servants all badly beaten, with Mr. Finklestein showing signs of having been mildly tortured. Officials are uncertain so far about the motive for the home invasion, as nothing was taken from inside. Sources have informed us that Mr. Finklestein has not been lucid enough to give any help as to the identity of any of the attackers..."
"My God..." Chuck mumbled, numbly watching the footage of Finklestein being wheeled towards an ambulance outside his house on a gurney, clearly, even from a distance, looking the worse for wear.
"Yeah, I heard this morning right before I came in," came Big Mike's voice from behind Chuck. The Buy More assistant manager-and former manager-stood behind him, a danish in hand, shaking his head at Finklestein being loaded into the ambulance, "Sad, sad day indeed, Bartowski. You know, my first instinct would be corporate espionage; maybe Large Mart or another chain wanted some trade secrets from him or something; I wouldn't put it above some of those other stores."
"Um, well, I don't know, Mike, but I doubt Large Mart would resort to torture to get ahead in the electronics business," Chuck argued.
"Well to be honest, Bartowski, that's what I'm hoping it is deep down," Big Mike said grimly, "Because any of the other alternatives scare me."
"Yeah, me too," Chuck shuddered. He squinted at the footage on the screen. He did not flash on anything-and yet, somehow deep in the pit of his stomach, part of him felt worried, as if Finklestein's assault was only the beginning of something worse.
"On the other hand, maybe I'm just getting paranoid with it being October," Big Mike also reasoned with a shrug, "I guess Halloween can do that to you if you're not careful."
"I know," Chuck agreed. He turned the volume back down as Big Mike sauntered away, and trudged sideways along the wall of TVs covering the rear of the store, taking in the many familiar, more benign images of Halloween from his younger years that had been playing in the store most of the month: Sally ranting that Linus had cost her lots of Halloween candy by asking her to wait in the pumpkin patch for the Great Pumpkin with him, and that she demanded restitution for it...Garfield and Odie cowering in fear as the creepy old man told them the tale of the pirate ghosts...Raggedy Ann and Andy chasing after the runaway Pumpkin That Couldn't Smile...the Grinch about to unleash upon Euchariah the Who the terrors of his paraphernalia wagon...Mr. Moundshroud taking Tom, Jenny, Ralph, and Wally through time and space to try and save Pip...Buttons and Rusty going for an inadvertent ride with the thieves that had robbed Chucklewood Park's trailer park...Fat Albert and friends running around the cemetery in terror...Samhain warning the Ghostbusters not to interfere with his mission to create an eternal Halloween. A soft sigh escaped Chuck's lips. If only the present could be as innocent as the past had been...
A hand closed on his shoulder, making him jump in shock. "Hey, it's only me," the very lovely Sarah Walker (at least to the best of his own knowledge at the moment) had come up behind him without noticing, "You OK?"
"Yeah, uh, sure," Chuck said, collecting himself, "It's just, well, after I got into the spy game, I get worried when someone jumps me from behind. Oh, that and Buy More's founder got attacked, it was just on the news," he pointed down to the TV in question.
"Oh really?" Sarah's eyebrows went up, "Did you flash?"
"No, and maybe it was just a random assault, but I just had a bad feeling about it. Almost as if it was warning me about something. Or maybe the Intersect's trying to override the governor and I'm starting to break down again..." he stared at the watch on his wrist that had been created by his father to keep his mind from overheating from all the government secrets in his brain.
"I hope not," Sarah rubbed his shoulder sympathetically, "I don't want to see you go through all that again."
Her gaze now fell on all the TVs featuring classic Halloween specials, her expression turning melancholy at the reminder, Chuck reasoned, of a childhood lost being on the road all the time as a girl. "You see all these?" he asked her.
"The Peanuts special of course," she pointed at the screen playing It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown, "And I think I caught the Garfield one once," she gestured at it as well, "The others, no."
"Well, I'll have to introduce you to them all if we don't get a new mission in the next week or so. You'll like this one, I'll bet, since one of the main character's named Jenny, in fact," Chuck pointed at the TV playing The Halloween Tree, on which at the moment in fact Jenny was clinging to a broomstick, trying to fly it despite her acrophobia, "And it really has a lot of heart too; they're..."
"Hold that thought, Chuck; Casey's going to blow again," Sarah worriedly pointed to the appliance aisle, where the familiar figure of Colonel John Casey-technically Colonel Alex Coburn, although he didn't go by that name publicly anymore-glared furiously at a customer ranting right in his face. "Oh dear..." Chuck mumbled softly; if Casey were ever to be set off, things could go south very quickly. He and Sarah rushed over to their partner's location. "...paid fifteen hundred dollars for this dryer, and it broke down the moment I tried to use it!" the angry customer yelled at the rock solid Casey, who had the dryer on a loading rack, "What the hell do you have to say about that, huh, big boy!?"
"Sir, I reiterate, I'm just the salesman here, and I have no control over what happens before our merchandise reaches the store or after it leaves here," Casey said calmly, but with cold fury boiling on his face and his fingers tightening their grip on the loader, "Now I'll have to ask you to back down or vacate this aisle..."
"Tell you what, Johnny Boy, how about I sue your worthless hide and that of every other loser who works in this piece of trash store for malpractice!?" the customer threatened him, "You won't be able to get a job with the sanitation department when I get through with you, you dumb lummox! What have you got to say to that, huh, you incompetent baboon!?"
With a rapid jerk, Casey pulled the loader backwards, causing the dryer to fall down hard on his customer's feet. "OOOOOOOOOWWWWWW!" the man yelped in agony.
"Oh I'm so sorry, sir; I have no idea what went wrong just now," Casey said insincerely, a devilish grin on his face.
"GET THIS THING OFF OF ME!" the customer screamed, trying to pull his foot out from under the dryer. Chuck waved Sarah over, and the two of them strained to raise the dryer up enough for him to pull free. "Allow me to offer my apologies, sir; if you'll leave a written report on what went wrong with the dryer here, and we'll try and get you a new one..." Chuck tried to console him.
"Forget it! Take your stupid dryer; I'm buying from Large Mart from now on!" the man thundered, kicking the dryer, then yowling and hopping backwards, clutching his foot. He stumbled towards the Buy More's door. "Again, lovely people skills, Casey," Chuck sighed towards the colonel.
"I don't take well with people who can't get their facts straight, Bartowski," Casey growled, "I'm not the one they should blame for these piece of junk going wrong. And if we're a government facility now, I should be able to twist the annoying customers into pretzels now..."
"Casey, if I..." Chuck started to retort, but stopped at the sound of thumping from a refrigerator in the next aisle. Frowning, he rushed for it and threw the door open. "Jeff, what in god's name are you doing in there!?" he demanded to his fellow Nerd Herder, who was curled up on one of the fridge's ledges, visibly drunk and chewing away on a urinal cake from the bathroom for some reason.
"Hey, can't a guy unwind in peace?" Jeff asked with a slur. "What?" he inquired, noticing everyone frowning at the cake in his hands, "I like the flavoring. Now can't I have some privacy!?"
He pulled the door back closed. Chuck sighed and slumped his head again another refrigerator nearby. "Rough morning?" Sarah bent down to his level.
"Very rough, Sarah," Chuck admitted, taking a deep breath, "But at least it can't get any more crazy..."
Suddenly, loud screams rang out from the front of the store. Chuck spun-and staggered backwards in shock at the sight of a heavily bleeding black-haired man-one he immediately flashed on as a CIA agent-staggering through the doors and stumbling up the aisle towards the Nerd Herd desk, pushing his way past panicked customers. "Hoo boy..." he exclaimed.
"You've got something on him, Chuck?" Sarah asked, concerned.
"Yeah, he's CIA," Chuck glanced around for Morgan. Catching a glimpse of the store manager by the video games, he waved frantically at him and flicked his fingers away from his forehead, signaling he'd flashed. Morgan nodded and rushed towards the man, who in his agony had not been watching where he was going and stumbled halfway down the hole in the floor. "We've got you, we've got you," Chuck reached the man first and strained to pull him out of the hole, joined by Morgan and Sarah. "Take him down to Castle?" he asked the latter under his breath.
"Probably," she nodded, jerking the man to his feet. "Send out the signal for a medical team," she instructed Casey nearby, "Looks like he needs major assistance."
"She shot me! I can't believe she shot me!" the man wailed, sobbing.
"It's, it's OK, buddy, it's going to be OK," Chuck patted him on the shoulder, hoping things would indeed be OK, for the badly wounded victim and he and his team...