A/N: Ownership of Chuck is in that box in the corner. Or not.
A/N2: Welcome to the twentieth arc of New Day, roughly based on Chuck versus the Cougars (Season 2, Episode 4). Twenty arcs in one ginormous story? Damn. What's the matter with me?
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Castle Studios, Office of the Head of Props
Daniel Biber was a balding, slightly overweight man in his late fifties. He sat behind his desk and studied the image on his computer closely. His expression was tough to read. There were elements of frustration, but they were mixed with some excitement.
"Whoever did this design is one hell of an electrical engineer," he finally said.
"Yes," said Sarah, sitting comfortably in his guest chair, one leg crossed over the other.
He kept looking at the screen and blew out a sigh. "It's not going to be easy to fabricate."
"No, it's not. But maybe you can prove that you old-school guys can still outdo the CGI guys sometimes, right?"
He glanced at her with a small smile. "Clever woman. Get my competitive juices flowing."
Sarah just smiled at him, but didn't reply.
He went back to studying the screen. "How far away will the shot be?" he asked finally.
"We don't know," she said.
"No closer than six feet. I can't guaranty we can do better than that...hell, even doing that is going to be..." he sighed again.
"I understand. But it's very important," she said.
"Oh, sure. Thirty years and that's what I hear every single time," he grumbled. After a while, he said, "It's going to be pretty expensive. What film should I bill it to?"
"Bill it to Carmichael Industries. If you send the bill to the Studio's accounting department, they'll get it to us," she said.
He stood up and extended his hand, "Ok, Ms. Walker. I'll get my guys to take care of it. When do you need it?"
She shook his hand and said, "Next month."
He nodded and said, "Fine. We'll get started this afternoon."
"Thank you."
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Monte's Trattoria, Brookside neighborhood of Los Angeles
It was soon after the appetizer courses had arrived when Chuck said, "Case, good job on the pick of the restaurant. This food is great. This shrimp thing is fantastic."
"Yeah, this is wonderful. Eileen, you want a taste?" asked Sarah.
Eileen Burke, Casey's sort-of-girlfriend, said, "No, thanks. I'm good. The burrata is sinful enough. And I want to save myself. I'm sure Casey is getting them to put a candle in some sort of dessert for me."
"So much for the surprise," said Casey with a roll of his eyes, pouring some wine into Eileen's glass.
"I'm a woman, Case. We are way sneakier than you guys," she said, giving him a shoulder bump.
Chuck put his napkin down on the table and said, "Excuse me a sec, guys. Be right back."
He got up and asked directions to the men's room. As he approached, he heard an angry man's voice with a Russian accent say, "This is your last chance to deliver the plans."
He pushed open the door to find a small, very scared looking man pushed up against the wall and being menaced by two much larger men. Each of the larger men held guns in their hands. With Chuck's sudden intrusion, everyone looked at each other with surprise.
One of the large men said to the scared man, "Who is this? Who is he? Is he a friend of yours?"
For an instant, Chuck considered turning around and leaving, but that might have been a death sentence for the other man. Instead, he stepped further into the room and unzipped his fly. "Hey, guys," he said.
The scared man said, "I have no idea who he is. No idea." He was sweating and hyperventilating a bit in his terror.
As the men turned to Chuck he stepped up to the urinal. "Sorry, guys. Don't know your friend, here. Honestly. I just came in to pee. Sorry to interrupt your thing, but, you know...you didn't pick a very private place for your conversation." He waved his one free hand around a bit. Chuck began to make use of the plumbing facilities in the room, seemingly ignoring the guns pointed at him. "You fellas really should have thought this through better, you know? Anyone could come wandering in at any moment. I mean...I did, right? Who knows who comes in to pee next time? Right? You should have picked like...I don't know...maybe like a dark parking lot or something..."
"Shut up," growled one of the men. "You're a witness now." The man was scowling and looking very fearsome. Between that and his gun, he was used to people...well, being scared. But this curly headed lanky guy ...well, he just finished up his business and zipped up his fly. He moved over to the sink to begin to wash his hands.
"Yeah, I know that. But see, here's the thing. As I came in you told him it was his last chance for something. Right?"
One of the thugs shrugged to admit that that had been the conversation. "Right," continued Chuck. "So, that means that you aren't going to kill him. See, if you were, it wouldn't be a last chance for anything. You'd just kill him. That means, this time around, you're just going to rough him up and scare him. The guns, honestly, they're just props for scaring him. You should really put them away. You just look silly with them waving around like that and somebody might get hurt."
The two thugs looked at each other, silently admitting that Chuck was making some sense.
"But you've seen us," said one of them, almost a little petulantly.
"Yeah. I did." Chuck moved away from the sink and said to one of the thugs, "Excuse me." The man moved aside. Chuck took a paper towel from the dispenser and began to dry his hands. "And what did I see? Ok, forget the guns for a second, I'll get back to those...and I still think that was a mistake in this setting...what did I see? I saw three guys about to have a fight in the bathroom. So, the fuck, what? You think I'm gonna call the cops for that? None of my fucking business, if you ask me. Maybe you guys have a legit beef with this dude. Maybe he's been banging your wife. I have no idea and I couldn't care less."
The two thugs were looking back and forth between themselves, weighing his words. It was clear that they were being convinced. Chuck just seemed so calm and reasonable.
"Now the guns, okay, that's a problem. Sorry, but they are. Just being honest. If I were the kind of guy to call the cops, I'd holler that there were guys with guns in the bathroom. I'm not that kind of guy, but you don't know that. No reason for you to trust me." Chuck shrugged. "So, the safest thing to do is put away the guns and leave. Shooting me or him is actually pretty insane. Bring the whole world down on your heads when all you were told to do is scare this guy. And someone else might come in any second. Fuck, guys, you might end up shooting up the whole place. That's nuts. It makes the news tonight and everything." Chuck threw the wet towel into the trash. "If you were told to scare him and in doing that you ended up killing a bunch of witnesses, your boss is going to be very pissed off at you. Very. We all know it."
Chuck continued, "And look at him. I think he peed on himself already. You clearly scared him enough for tonight, even before I interrupted. Mission accomplished. Tuck the guns away and leave. I get to go back to my dinner. By the way, you should really try the shrimp. It's excellent."
They looked back and forth between each other. The bigger of the two said to the small man, "You got lucky this time. Remember what we said." He gave the small man a ferocious scowl.
With a shrug, they put their guns back in their holsters.
Casually, Chuck drew his trank pistol and tranked both men. They fell to the tile floor of the bathroom.
As the bodies hit the ground in the men's room, Chuck said, conversationally, "Ok, Case. Come on in."
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It was soon after Chuck left the table that Sarah and Casey began to hear his conversation in their ears. Locking eyes, they communicated with each other wordlessly.
Casey put his napkin on the table and said, "Excuse me a second. Think I'll join Chuck."
"Why do guys always have to go together?" asked Eileen.
Casey left the table and headed to the bathroom.
Sarah was listening to Chuck talk to the men in the bathroom in her ear, but was also alert to something odd in the main room of restaurant itself.
Eileen noticed Sarah's distraction and said, "What's up?"
Sarah said, "You see the blonde over in the corner? She keeps looking at us."
"Yeah. I noticed that too. She's not hiding it very well, is she? You know her?"
"She looks a little familiar, but I can't place it. Maybe she's an actress or something?"
"I don't recognize her, but she's a bit creepy, honestly," Eileen said. "And kind of skanky."
With that, the creepy blonde skank at another table got up and came over to their table. She had a small smile and was looking intently at Sarah.
"You look so familiar," said the woman to Sarah.
"I get that all the time," Sarah said happily. "Guess I just have one of those faces."
"Nope. Nope. That's not it. I know you...I never forget a face. I don't. I'm good that way." She brightened suddenly. "I've got it. You're Jenny Burton. James Buchannan High School. Class of 1998."
It was clear to Eileen that Sarah had been very surprised by that, shocked even. Sarah sat there looking at the standing woman for a moment or two. Eileen was surprised when Sarah said, "Oh, yes. Hi."
'What the hell?' thought Eileen.
"I knew it," said the standing lady. "Dyed your hair, fixed your teeth and got a boob job, but I still recognized you."
Eileen suddenly took a dislike to Madam Creepy Skank.
"I was in your class. I'm Heather Chandler, well, Heather Ratner now..."
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The door opened and Casey walked into the bathroom with his gun in his hand. He looked down at the two men on the floor and said, "Idiots."
"Ya think?" asked Chuck. He turned to the small man and said, "Ok, dude. What's your story?"
The man was still nervous, even with his assailants unconscious. "Who are you?" he asked.
"I'm the guy who just saved you from getting a beating. Now it's your turn. What's going on here?"
"Are you police?"
"Do you always answer a question with a question?" asked Chuck.
Casey said, "Damn, this guy's annoying. I'm starting to see why these guys were going to stomp his ass."
"So, come on. Share," said Chuck to the man, with a gesture towards him and Casey.
"I ...I ...look, I can't talk to you. I can't. You shouldn't have interfered. I...I...I'm going," he stammered through his declaration and lit out through the door to the restaurant.
Chuck and Casey let him go.
Chuck said to Casey, "What do you think?"
"No idea, Kid. Nothing to do with us, I guess."
"Yeah. I'm sure that's right," agreed Chuck. "Still. Can't really have a couple of Russian guys wandering around LA waving pistols around. That's like...bad."
"Yeah. I'll call our connection with LAPD. Tell her what happened and let her collect the sleeping commies here. Book 'em on weapons charges if nothing else."
Chuck bent down and plucked the darts from the two men, dropping them into his jacket pocket. "You know the Cold War is over. They probably aren't commies anymore," said Chuck with a bit of a laugh.
"Banacheck was," said Casey.
"Ok. You got me there. You win that round," he said with a chuckle.
"You go back to the ladies. This'll just take a minute. Order us another bottle of wine," said Casey. Chuck gave him a light rap on the shoulder and headed back to the table.
Eileen and Sarah were chatting when he got back.
"All good?" asked Sarah.
"Yup. All good here?" he asked.
"Yeah. Someone I used to know recognized me. Just after she said hello, her husband came running out from the back and grabbed her to get her the hell out of the restaurant. Threw some cash on their table and practically ran out of here," said Sarah.
"Crazy just keeps happening," said Chuck. "You won't believe it, but there are a couple of drunks passed out in the men's room. That's what took me so long."
"Really?" asked Eileen. "This doesn't seem to be that kind of place."
"I agree. Weird. Probably got drunk someplace else and just crashed here. This place is too nice for that kind of thing," said Chuck.
Soon afterward, Casey returned to the table and nodded to Chuck and Sarah. Seems the LAPD was on the way to pick up the Russians.
After a second bottle of wine, some delicious food (the eggplant rollatini was particularly scrumptious) and a tartuffo for Eileen with a candle and a cheerful rendition of Happy Birthday from the waitstaff, dinner was over. They weren't even disturbed very much when police and EMT's came and took away the sleeping Russians. Eileen had had a lovely evening for her birthday.
Casey and Eileen got into his car for him to drive her home.
In the Porsche on the way back to Echo Park Chuck told Sarah what had happened in the men's room, including that the man had run away without giving them any useful information. And that he and Casey had concluded that it was none of their business.
"I'm sure you're right," said Sarah. "But I can give you a bit of something. His last name is Ratner and he's married to Heather Chandler, now Heather Ratner."
"The woman who knew you?"
"Yeah. Total bitch I went to high school with. Recognized me after all these years. And I'm telling you, Sweetie, I looked really different in high school."
"She must have some good eye, in that case," said Chuck.
"No kidding. Pretty amazing, really," she agreed, glancing at him for second and then looking back to the road.
Chuck reached behind him for his messenger bag with his laptop, taking the computer out and powering it up.
"What are you doing?" Sarah asked.
"Just curiosity. Going to see if I can pull up anything about who Heather the Bitch married and why two Russians were giving him one last chance."
Chuck started to type. "Ok," he said, after a couple of minutes, "Heather Chandler...married Mark Ratner in 2005."
"Mark Ratner...that sounds familiar..." said Sarah.
"Not surprised. The wedding announcement in the Times says the couple met in high school. He would have been in your class."
"That's right. I remember now. He was a science nerd. Always bullied by the 'popular' kids." Sarah made air quotes with the fingers of one hand. "How in God's name did he end up with her? She was one of the queens of the popular kids. Cheerleader and everything."
"Just lucky I guess?" suggested Chuck.
"Or unlucky?"
"Right. That too. So, let's see Mark Ratner. PhD from Berkley. Math. Engineering. Works for .. oh...this is interesting. He works for Winthrop Keller Avionics...and they do...ok...ok...they do a bunch of top secret shit for the Defense Department."
"You said the Russians wanted plans," said Sarah.
"I did, didn't I? Hummm." He tapped on his computer some more and then said, "Bingo. There it is. The FBI is starting an investigation of Winthrop Keller based on some NSA chatter. They think there may be a leak of classified information."
"Bingo," said Sarah.
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A/N3: What do you guys think? Have to be honest. When I watched this episode and those bad guys were threatening Ratner in the bathroom, my first thought was, 'In the bathroom of the restaurant? Seriously? What's wrong with you guys? That's incredibly dumb.' So, I just had Chuck channel my critique. And in my story, there's no forcing Sarah to go to dinner with someone she detests. I didn't want to do that to her and no way Chuck would've have forced it. Finally, we circle back to my original opinion of the Intersect. It's a crutch for lazy screenwriting. Isn't there a way to get to the same place with just a little bit more creativity?
A/N4: Let me know what you guys think, please. Also, if you are on Facebook stop by and see us on the Chuck Fanfiction page there. Bunch of us hang out and chat about this stuff we are reading and writing. And Happy Father's Day to the dads here.