Senior Security Officer Frank Nelson wished they could move faster. Normally, a delivery job like this was no more than a simple thirty-minute drive and never drew any ire from their enemies. After all, his employers were the freaking NSA; people usually didn't bother taking the fight to them. And to the best of his knowledge, his current stomping grounds were quite peaceful. Even the overall crime rate was low and the agency deemed this route safe and secure. Which was a good thing because as a voluntarily retired Marine, he was no longer the eager beaver he used to be, a guy who liked to shoot stuff and put his life at risk. He didn't want to deal with the heat anymore.
Frank was a big guy. He stood over six feet tall and weighed a solid 250 pounds; some of it may have turned into fat, but overall he remained in relatively good shape. His greying hair was concealed by a navy cap. Since he was a good listener, he always maintained a harmonious relationship with the chain of command – the benefit of such being that he ended up in positions of respect or authority.
His colleague, Roger Williams, was a loyal and solid partner, as well as being somewhat taciturn. It was the reason Frank liked working with him. What Roger lacked in terms of raw knowledge, he made up for with his ability to gather information from law enforcement contacts. He always kept his ears firmly attached to the ground.
"So one of those glorified courier jobs once again?" Roger raised an eyebrow, pointing out the folded blueprints lying on the backseat. "Do you know what's inside that?"
"Next-gen tank plans. Plastic and fibre. Probably one of the biggest innovations this decade. We got it from GDLS a few days ago." Frank explained, then took note of the message on an electronic sign board. "Bridge closed?"
"Huh? That doesn't make sense. I am pretty sure we have memorized our whole routine by now. Isn't this... our 300th delivery?" Roger frowned as he took a sharp turn. He turned the steering wheel around to reach the other nearest path, only for something to slam into it from behind, causing the automotive to lose balance. Both officers took a long breath and looked in the rear view mirror. It was a black and yellow truck with Iris Food and Beverages engraved on the top.
"Darn it! We are under attack!" Frank yelled as he took out his side arm. He slammed his foot on the accelerator, but the sounds of squealing tires made him realize the truck had them pinned against a wall.
"What do we do now, chief?" Roger panicked, brandishing his own pistol.
"Nothing. The glass is bulletproof. The agency suburban is made from zinc-galvanized steel." Frank tried to assure his colleague as his being a former Marine meant he was no stranger to such situations. Though droplets of sweat started to form on his forehead as several cars came out of nowhere, trapping them in a corner.
A scantily-clad Chinese woman jumped out from the driver seat of the truck with a vicious smile on her face, followed by several heavily-armed Asian men in uniform.
"Base, we are under attack. I REPEAT – WE ARE UNDER ATTACK." Roger yelled into his communicator and received nothing but static in return.
"It's no use. They are jamming the signal." Frank smacked his fists against the windshield in frustration.
Suddenly, an extremely painful sound pierced their ears - as if someone was drilling the ground beneath their feet. Before they could figure out what was going on, a thick green mist started to permeate the suburban, causing them to start coughing and gagging.
And just like that, the darkness took them. Darkness they never woke up from.
...xxxxx...xxxxx...
It was quite unusual for Chuck.
The air was filled with alcohol, smoke and perfume. It felt like all of his senses were being assaulted. For the last two years he had been completely focused on trying to prove he was more than just the offspring of Stephen Bartowski. Both his physical and mental capabilities had been tested far beyond their limits as he went through his ordeals. Truthfully, he had been working like there was no tomorrow because he wanted to put the failures of his past as far behind him as he could. He had an inkling in his mind that with the technology stuck inside his head, he would have to deal with more than just a nasty, self-absorbed superior. He was aware there was no way of controlling what fate had in store for him, which was why he agreed to his friend's wild proposition.
Loud, fast-paced music thundered from everywhere, making it near-impossible to hear anything else. The place was completely packed with men and women who were barely able to move past each other. Along with the lights (fluctuating with the beat) which happened to be the main source of illumination in the otherwise darkened club, he saw a massive screen – most probably thirty feet wide – hanging above the heavily crowded dance floor, and it also flashed from time to time.
"So, where were we? We don't know any real secrets... stuff the government doesn't want others to know. But once you get into that sort of thing... well that's when they own you Charles, and they own you for life." Deepak replied as he ordered a Tequila at the bar while Chuck decided to stick with a fruity drink called Mai Tai (which came with an umbrella), something Awesome suggested to him over the phone.
"The only person who cannot be owned by anyone is one who always keeps his options open." Chuck laughed heartily as they fist-bumped each other. Deepak suddenly looked over his right shoulder and was quite surprised to see a pretty brown-haired, hazel-eyed woman standing near the counter, waiting for her drink. She was wearing an exotic zebra-striped top and mini skirt but the stern academic glasses she donned were a big giveaway. She was the type he was looking for.
"Dude. Crush alert, 6 o'clock." Deepak whispered in his ears. Chuck initially blinked in confusion, then turned to see the woman in question, who herself had turned around so he could only see her back. A very beautiful back, in his opinion. That kind of sight was one he was used to during his relationship with Jill.
"Let me show you how this works, Charles." Deepak declared with a smug grin, taking out his cover badge. He concealed it in a way that allowed someone to peek and read the initials on it if they were standing. "Chicks dig spies."
"This is never going to work." Chuck rolled his eyes in mild annoyance.
"The spoils of victory don't come to those who give up easily, my friend!" He added with a dramatic flair, patting him on the shoulders.
"I wish you luck, my friend. You're gonna need it." Chuck sweatdropped, ready to see the conclusion of his friend's little adventure. Outrageous ideas like that never worked for Morgan and he doubted it would work for Deepak either. They slid slowly through the moving crowd toward their destination. As soon as they got within earshot, the dark-haired woman actually turned towards them with a twinkle of excitement in her eyes.
"Hey..." She began first, her eyes glued to Deepak's ID. What she could see of it, anyway.
"Hey there. I am Romeo Walter and this is my friend, Charles Carmichael." Deepak extended his hand with a confident smile which she shook rather enthusiastically, even extending the same courtesy to Chuck. She stared at both of them in awe and adornment.
"I am Summer Roberts. I just saw your DIA badge. Are you guys secret agents or something?" She started talking very fast, the words spilling out of her mouth.
"Ah! I would love to tell you but then..." Deepak trailed off playfully.
"You would have to kill me or put me in a bunker." She responded in a sarcastic manner, rolling her eyes.
"I was about to say "dance with you", but if that's your thing..." Deepak smiled mischievously as the woman offered her hand which he lifted to his lips, causing her to look away shyly. Chuck stared wide-eyed at him for a moment, literally shocked to his very core.
I can't believe that actually worked.
"Sure, why not?" She nodded with a pleasant smile. Enveloping his hands with hers, she turned to Chuck, continuing in a high-pitched tone, "Emily would go crazy over it. She's always wanted to meet a Jack Ryan type."
"I think I am fine on my own. You two go enjoy ourselves." Chuck remarked with a friendly smile. In spite of all the mental and physical changes he had been through, he still wasn't comfortable with lying in order to spend time with a pretty lady.
"Are you sure about that Charles? All work and no play makes Chuck a dull Agent." Deepak replied in a casual tone. "Sorry, Summer. Charles has been going through hard times. He had to... kill a rogue agent today. He was sort of his best friend. They went through the academy together." He added in a foreboding tone.
"I... can't believe it. Y-you k-killed your best friend?" Summer stammered a bit, visibly shaken by this supposed revelation. Chuck, on the other hand, didn't know how to react. He kinda felt bad for seeing the poor lady deceived like that, but he couldn't help but feel annoyed at how simply being debonair could invoke gullibility in others.
"I think I'll get a refill and ponder who my next target should be. My trigger fingers are getting itchy." Chuck replied with a groan and started walking towards the bar.
"He isn't going to... kill me, right?" Summer whispered nervously in Deepak's ear, her face now pale with horror.
Deepak chuckled, barely able to restrain his laughter. He wrapped his arms around her waist and spoke softly in a flirtatious tone, "Only if you are really, really bad."
"I can be if you want to." She purred back.
...xxxxx...xxxxxx...
Letting out a sigh, Chuck began moving towards the bar only to be accidentally smacked in the back by an over-enthusiastic couple who were jumping wildly to the beat of dash music. The impact was enough to launch him forward, right into another person.
Time seemed to slow down as they headed for an impromptu meeting with the floor. An electric tingle flowed through Chuck's nerves as multiple images floated in front of his eyes. In short order, his body moved on its own as his hands brought the person into a hug and twisted them around, leaving him to attend the meeting by himself.
THUD!
And what a meeting it was.
He hit the ground hard enough to bounce. Even the computer in his head couldn't have prevented that outcome. Chuck groaned as pain spread from his back to his head. He let go of the other person and rubbed his head using his right hand, his eyes still tightly closed. The person above him also groaned before getting off him and standing up.
All these amazing skills locked inside my brain and I can't even save my own ass.
"I am really sorry about that." Chuck said, still in pain and discomfort.
"It's okay. Though I must say we have a knack of running into each other in unusual situations." The other person – clearly a woman – replied in an amused tone, though her voice carried a sense of elegance and respect as well.
"I guess." Chuck replied dumbly, not really knowing how to respond to that. Still rubbing his head, he opened his eyes, looking up at the woman he accidentally crashed into. "I am... fine..." His sentence slowed down to a stop, his heart skipped a beat, his eyes widened and blood immediately rushed to his cheeks.
Her blonde hair was draped around her head and shoulders, forming some sort of golden angelic halo. She was wearing a black wool shirt that did an excellent job of displaying her curves. A flowing red skirt covered her legs in a teasing manner. She had the face of an angel. The breathtaking sight of her complete form had apparently given him time-manipulation superpowers, because the seconds he spent looking at her felt like hours. Then all of a sudden, realization hit him.
It was none other than Sarah Walker from Harvard.
Chuck had to admit, his eyes had traveled her path before. Not that he could stop himself from looking again, considering what nearly happened between them all those years ago. But that was just a rare moment of weakness on her part. He had never been seriously infatuated with her and never imagined both of them together. However, right now he couldn't stop himself from gazing at her with puppy dog eyes.
Even after five long years, she still looks like a fairytale princess, a person with a face you can only find in the finest of artworks.
Recomposing himself, he gulped and attempted to articulate an intelligent reply, trying not to make himself look even more idiotic than he already did.
"It's been a long time, Sarah." He smiled admirably.
"Five years. I know. Congratulations, by the way. I read in the newspapers that you finally got your degree back." She replied with a warm smile, gently tapping him on the shoulders, then sharply narrowed her eyes as she picked up what appeared to be some sort of key card. "So you work for the National Geospatial-Intelligence Agency now? That's impressive. Are you a spy or something like that?" She added with a hint of playfulness.
Don't freak out, Chuck. Don't freak out. Pull yourself together, look presentable. You are a Federal Agent-in-training.
Quickly jumping back on his feet, Chuck straightened his jacket and resumed smiling. He tried not to stare at her too hard, otherwise it would have made him look creepy.
"Oh, I actually... got off from work a little late. I didn't even know this was on." Chuck grinned, his voice rushed and bearing a very uncharacteristic squeak at the end.
Damn. What the hell is wrong with me? Every time I try to come off charming, I end up becoming an even goofier version of myself. Was I born under a bad sign?
"I restore... computers and teach... people how to not get hacked. A teacher of sorts. Yeah, that's what I am. I teach stuff. Teach stuff to tech people. And I spend my time making weather reports and schedules for my bosses on my computer. That's what I do for a living. A not-so-special special agent." With a smile, Chuck rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.
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...
If anyone could look inside Chuck's mind at that very moment, they would see him performing seppuku with a Jedi lightsaber.
Nevertheless, in spite of what he may have thought, the blonde in front of him did indeed smile. That smile was then accompanied by a giggle as she continued in a mischievous manner.
"Are you ready?"
"For what?" Chuck asked with a stunned expression.
"It's been five long years. We have a lot to catch up on." She concluded with a fond smile.
...xxxx...xxxxxx...xxxxx...
"It doesn't take a genius to understand there was some foul play involved," said a dark-skinned old man dressed in a long black jacket, along with a suit and tie underneath.
"I agree with you, Director Graham. According to the autopsy report, one of the officers died upon being exposed to sarin, a nerve gas with many times the toxicity of cyanide. Really nasty stuff. The other officer tried to escape but he was shot dead." Senior Analyst Tom Corrigan replied as both of them continued to walk around the wreckage. The most eye-catching thing was the blood, splattered around the ground and splashed against the wall. "The truck used by the assailants had been reported stolen by caterers last week."
"A perfectly-orchestrated attack and no one managed to see it coming? This is ridiculous! They must have been planning this for weeks." Graham frowned. "Those tank designs were stolen right under our noses. Our people surely know how to make mistakes. We need to make changes. I need better people."
Tom let out a sigh, deciding not to argue with the Director. Lately, he had been extremely frustrated due to the lack of progress on a certain special project that he had no idea about and wasn't interested in knowing about. His job was already troublesome enough; he had no time to waste on other matters.
All of a sudden, he recalled something. Something important enough to catch his attention and make a note of in his personal handbook. He took it out from his overcoat and began citing the facts.
"Actually, there was an analyst; a rookie from the NGA assigned to some routine intelligence-gathering job unrelated to our mission. He predicted that something like this might take place. Despite his limited security access, he identified six different ambush points. This one was marked most likely." Tom explained in a serious tone.
"So you're telling me an individual from another intelligence agency – with no knowledge of this delivery whatsoever – was able to draw a conclusion our supercomputer AI and hundreds of analysts missed, even though he had no idea about the nature of our facility?" Graham asked incredulously. He was definitely surprised after hearing this.
"I think so. His security clearance wasn't high enough to know any of that."
"Interesting. So this NGA analyst... What's his name?"
"Carmichael."
...xxx...xxxxx...