5:30 PM, Friday. Burbank California

If you asked Chuck a year ago, if he'd be a lead programmer for a contracted Government security program, he would have laughed.

But today? He just wanted to sleep the exhaustion away.

Chuck rubbed his eyes. He pecked out a short email to his boss, powered down the computer, grabbed his phone and slung a grey messenger bag over his shoulder.

In the lobby, a young receptionist chewed the end of her pen. Her eyes fixed on a newscast flashing across the lobby TV. As Chuck enters, his eyes swing over to the TV, stopping to lean against the receptionist's desk.

Images of a burning hotel, EMTs and eye witness accounts of a bombing run in a montage over a reporter's shoulder.

"…The NSA now believes the bomb was left by a Chechen arms dealer. This and new information about the deadly hotel bombing that killed General Stanfield and caused an additional 253 fatalities in Los Angeles last year were revealed during Congressional hearings earlier today. The victim's families…"

The receptionist twists the end of her pen between her teeth. "You think they'll get the guys?" she asked.

Chuck looks down. "They're still searching for Bin Laden. They won't give up, but who knows…hey, I've emailed the reports from today. I may come in tomorrow to wrap some stuff up before Monday."

Chuck gives a small wave before continuing on to the elevators. The receptionist turns back to the TV.

A small security camera tucked in the corner, turns slowly towards the elevators.

9:00 PM, Wednesday (Two days earlier). Washington DC

Colonel Casey scowls at the blonde CIA agent across the table. This is the last place he wants to be. He crosses his arms and continues the scowl. Walker glares back.

The door clicks open and the imposing General Beckman and Director Graham enter. A few steps behind enters pretty boy Larkin. Walker sits up straight as the two lock eyes.

Great. Just great.

Larkin's self-importance as an intersect decoy will only be inflated by his former partner. Pansy CIA agents.

Casey grunts as his scowl deepens. Walker looks down and Larken hastily takes his seat, pulls out a computer and starts to pull up documents.

Beckman looks on. She's the one that called this meeting. The NSA and CIA haven't had good results lately.

Last year, Larkin was contacted by Fulcrum to steal the Intersect. Showing a streak of intelligence Casey didn't think existed, Larkin reported Fulcrum's mission to Graham. In a joint decision with the NSA, the CIA intended to let Larkin stage a break-in and "steal" the Intersect. Things went to hell in a hand basket when Orion caught wind of the plans and actually blew up the computer during mission with a drone and Larkin ended up temporarily in the hands of the enemy.

To save face with his Fulcrum handlers, Larkin claimed he uploaded the Intersect before it blew up. Casey was brought in with Walker to rescue Larkin from Fulcrum. Since the rescue, Larkin went deep to keep up the rouse as Intersect and avoid Fulcrum agents. Hiding did have its uses.

Casey was pulled from the Intersect project to help with the LA bombing. After little progress, Beckham started sending Casey on missions to track Orion and collect information on Fulcrum. But like the bombing…little progress.

"Larkin. Report" Graham ordered.

Larkin pulls a spread sheet up on the computer.

"Like us, Fulcrum hasn't been successful in tracking Orion down or locating Intersect schematics. I have found information that suggests they are close to testing their own version on live subjects." Larkin states.

"We've known most of this for a while," retorts Casey.

Larkin nods his head. "But now they're actively looking for test subjects."

"Test subjects?" Sarah asks.

Beckman interrupts, "Yes. A burned CIA recruiter kept a private list of potential and active CIA agents that were pre-tested for the Intersect. Major Casey intercepted an encrypted copy of this list two weeks ago. Almost all active agents on this list have disappeared."

Casey looks to Beckman. "Have they been successful? With the Intersect?"

"No, an inside agent found a Fulcrum dumpsite. The agents didn't survive the testing. While we were never able to conduct human tests, we were told by programmers that a select few would actually have the capability of handling the Intersect."

Bryce highlights a list of three names on the screen. "These are the only remaining active agents on the list. I've tried to make contact with one of them and haven't heard anything yet. We can assume the worst."

Graham adjusts his glasses. "We believe these are the next Fulcrum targets."

"What about that list….non-active agents?" Sarah points towards a folder at the bottom of the screen. "Has Fulcrum approached them?"

Larkin opens the folder and then a second spread sheet.

"We haven't checked these names because they're not qualified for one reason or the other. I would assume Fulcrum would do the same." Larkin replied.

"The numbers on the right, that's the Intersect test right?" Walker said.

Larkin nods.

"If Fulcrum gets desperate, these would still be viable candidates. Look at Bartowski. His test score is through the roof. That's higher than even you, Bryce."

Larkin freezes as his eyes slide across the screen. Something's off. Larkin's hands tighten around the mouse.

Casey narrows his eyes.

"It says here, Bartowski was accused of cheating. The results are invalid," Bryce responds.

"Fulcrum won't care. If it were us, we'd pursue every option," Walker counters.

"Walker is right, we should pursue individuals on this list too." Beckman commands. "Larkin, Walker, Major Casey, you will work together to locate and bring in the remaining individuals on this list. We will coordinate with other agents monitoring friends and families of the missing agents. Dismissed."

Beckman and Graham exit the room. Two assistants sitting in the hallway follow.

"We should follow up with the three agents. Then start with Bartowski and the other high scoring flunkies," says Casey. He stands and moves towards the computer.

5:35 PM, Friday. Burbank California

Frank, the security guard, flips through a comic book. It's a quiet afternoon and the weather wonderful, which might explain why so many left early today.

The elevator doors slowly slide open as a cell phone rings. Mr. Bartowski steps out of the elevator fumbling in his pocket for the ringing phone. He finally grasps it and presses it close to his face.

Mr. Bartowksi is nice. Always stopping by to talk about Frank's latest comic book issue. He's constantly coming in and out of the building at odd hours. But he's polite, which is more than Frank can say about the other programmers. In fact most of them are just down right weird.

Bartowski continues to move towards the exit but pauses halfway through. He stops, pulls the phone down and stares at it briefly before holding it back up. He notices Frank and nods. Chuck nods his head as he turns back to the phone.

Suddenly, he tilts his head back in frustration, turns back around to the elevator and enters. The door slides shut.

Frank shakes his head before turning back to his comic.

Several Hours later, Wednesday night (2 days before). Washington DC

Walker left hours ago to follow up on a lead, while Larkin's hands fly over the keys, running searches and facial recognition software.

Casey nurses a coffee as he fills out reports. This isn't going anywhere either. What he wouldn't give to be back out there running real missions instead of this investigative pen pushing crap.

Casey takes a long sip from his coffee and eyes Larkin. Something's not quite right. He's almost been twitchy.

Larkin looks up from his computer and meet Casey's eyes. "Problem Casey?"

Casey carefully sets his mug down. "Got something to share?"

"No. Going to follow up on a lead." Larkin grabs his phone and steps out into the hallway. Casey shakes his head.

After a moment, his eyes narrow and moves to stick his head out in the hallway.

Larkin is further down, hunched, talking quickly into his phone.

Casey leans back into the room. Something is definitely not right.

10:00 AM Friday. Washington DC.

Agents Larkin and Walker stand by the computer system talking quietly when Casey enters. They pause as he crosses the room to stand by the computer.

"Well?" Larkin says.

"Smith is dead. Car accident." Casey responds.

"Damn. They're all gone. Graham isn't going to like this." Walker runs her hands over her hair.

"Time to work on the rejects. We should start with Bartowski." Casey moves in front of the computer, running a quick search. A DMV record fills the screen. "Huh. Definitely doesn't look like agent material." Casey stares at young man with wild brown hair and a nervous smile.

"Says here he works for a sister company of Roark industries. No missing person's report or anything else concerning. Looks like Fulcrum hasn't moved in yet. Pack you're bags. We're heading to California. I've been feeling a little pasty." Casey looks at Bryce out of the corner of his eye.

Larkin stares at the screen and slowly closes his eyes. "I'll inform Beckman."

5:45 PM Friday, Burbank CA

The office on the 10th floor is a mess. The client chairs are in pieces. An overhead light flickers. The lobby TV is dark. A massive crack spreads around one side. Behind the receptionist desk, a feminine hand lies in a growing pool of blood.

The elevator doors emit a loud wail disturbing the silence. The door can't quite close. A grey messenger bag lies in the way.

TBC…

Author's Note:I won't make posting promises or make reviewer demands. I also most likely won't respond to feedback. This is more of an experiment for myself.