A/N I'm not drawing on just the one movie for inspiration, as some of you have noticed, or just movies. A bit of this was inspired by New Day, good luck finding it. Considering the popularity of the spy genre in both film and TV, I'm really surprised that the owners of this movie haven't released it in an English-language version, or remade it entirely.


Harry Tang heard the sound of his wife's voice coming from the van driving away from him. "You come to give me much pleasure, like last time?"

Last time?, he thought, his long-simmering anger boiling over yet again, but without a target except the van itself. If there was anyone in there with her, they were being much quieter. No time to get to his car. He looked down at the bicycle in his hands. He hopped on and started pedaling, trying to keep up with the vehicle and make it stop.

Make it all stop.

"A friend with benefits, that's me!"

"Poppy!" he yelled, no breath to spare for more. How the hell did Grimes do it? "Poppy!"


The driver of the van checked his mirrors, wondering why there were no cars behind him in the traffic. Finally he saw it, some guy in a green shirt on a fricking bicycle, shouting something. "Boss!" he yelled into the back, over the sound of the playback. "We got some guy from the Buy More following us!"

Decker cursed. Bartowski must have twigged to their surveillance somehow, activated some of his team. "Deploy countermeasures!"


"That's right, lover-boy. You come here, and Poppy will take care of you both. And you will take care of me."

Both? Harry was panting and puffing, trying to keep up, when the van ahead suddenly seemed to slow. He sped up, just as the vehicles sprayed some kind of liquid on the road. The bicycle started to wobble, sliding down the curve of the road, and Harry bounced off the side of a car. He pushed forward until the bicycle had traction again and continued his pursuit, heedless of the horns and crashing metal behind him. "Poppy!"


"You know what I want, lover. Give it to me."

Delgado checked his mirrors, and saw the guy coming up after them again. Time for something a little more permanent, plus they were out of things less permanent. He pushed a button on the dash. Underneath the van a box containing several dozen caltrops, tetrahedral spikes that always had one pointed up no matter how they fell, opened and dumped its load into the street.


Harry almost didn't see them, glittering stars on the road, but he couldn't stop in time. He rode right into the field of caltrops and both tires blew out immediately. The brakes caught on the flattened rubber and the tires stopped rotating, pitching Harry over the bars and onto the surface of the road, barely missing the spikes. Harry saw a car coming up behind him and curled into a ball, rolling to the side of the road and sheltering under a car as much as he could.

The car rolled over the bicycle, riding above the caltrops by an inch but crushing the bicycle underneath. The car after that one wasn't as lucky, rolling over an already-flattened bike, and it blew its tires right in Harry's face. Slapping his hands over his ears, he wedged himself ever tighter under the car.

Finally the noises stopped, and Harry became aware of a feeling of wetness. More than one. He opened his eyes and looked down, as fluids from a couple of ruined cars flowed toward him and into his clothes. He tried to crawl out from under the car but found he'd done too good a job pushing under it in the first place. He was stuck, and beginning to smell like coolant. In front of him the stupid little seat of the stupid little bicycle seemed to be the only unflattened part of it, with its stupid little license plate mocking Harry on its stupid little owner's behalf. "Grimes!"


A good bit later, down by the water...

"There's the car," said Gruber, watching the parked vehicles as Delgado focused on navigating between them.

Tommy glanced at the scanner. "Didn't even try to lose the tracker."

"Why would he?" asked Decker, as they drove past. "Look where we are." The Santa Monica Pier. Crowds, games. A ferris wheel, arcade, a roller coaster and all the sounds that came with. "We'll have to split up to find him, and even then we'll never be able to get a line on him in there." They'd have to get in close, risk detection even more than they already had. "He's been playing games with us since the beginning."

"Maybe he should have an accident," said Laszlo.

"I wish, but whatever the boss wants us to learn, we haven't learned it yet," said Decker. "This guy is really getting on my nerves. All right, lose the suits, we're going casual." No one moved, and he realized that he was the only one wearing a suit. "Goddammit." He pulled at his tie. "Keep your eyes open for his bodyguards, too. If we can get eyes on all of them inside, I want you two-" he looked at Delgado and Gruber "-to get something on that car so we can listen in."

"This guy'll find it in two seconds," whined Delgado.

"How's he gonna do that without blowing his cover to the babe?" Decker gestured imperatively, and Laszlo left the van first, so they wouldn't all enter the park together.

"He'll find a way," said Gruber.

"Maybe she's a spy too?" asked Delgado. "No cover to blow."

"Ridiculous," said Decker, doffing the jacket. "Much too attractive."

"Magnetic," said Gruber, nodding.

"A feast for the eyes," said Laszlo over the comms.

"It's unprofessional," said Victor.

"That's exactly right," said Decker. "A real female spy would be like Sasha here-"

"Hey!"

"No knock against you, Sasha, but you have obviously learned how to turn that deadly allure off, which Bartowski's little chippie has just as obviously not." Another gesture, and Victor left the van.

"Don't you worry about that little strumpet," growled Sasha. "If he doesn't already have plans to get rid of her, I do."

"I don't know, Sasha," said Delgado with a smile, "She's very pretty, even for a pawn."

"Which one of us went to seduction school?" she snapped back. "I'll own his delectable ass by tonight. I almost feel sorry for her."

"You've almost felt sorry for a lot of broads."

"I know," said Sasha, checking her appearance in the mirror. "I just can't seem to commit."


"Oo, look at the unicorn!" said Sarah, very much like a cute little girl.

"Don't have to, Sarah," said Chuck. "That little bad boy, or girl, because who can tell with fictional creatures, has graced this booth with its presence for lo these many moons. I think the only time they take it down is to brush it off, or to replace it with one that hasn't gotten faded from over-exposure."

"I want it."

"And I want to give it to you," said Chuck, who was no fool. He slapped the fee down on the table and took the gun. He'd played this game a few times now, and he thought he had it figured out. Today he would get that beast.

The music started up, the many little targets moving and jiggling along with it, and that was the key. The music had a beat, well-disguised but he had it now. Modern-day wa-

Bang! Missed. Follow the beat.

-rrior, mean, mean stri-

Bang! Missed again, move again.

-de, today's Tom Saw-

Bang! Missed. One shot left, had to make it count. He would not lose this.

-yer, mean, mean-

Bang!

Pride.

The lightweight target sailed through the air and smacked into the little alien spacecraft. "Yeah, you did it," shouted Morgan. Sarah made a silly face, visibly impressed.

"No he didn't," said the attendant.

Morgan pointed with both hands. "He totally did." Sarah watched Chuck's face fall, and decided she didn't like that one little bit.

"Gotta knock it over," said the attendant. "'Almost' don't count except in horseshoes and hand grenades."

Sarah marched over and got all up in his face. "You forgot nuclear weapons," she said, not sounding anything like a cute little girl, and slapped down a bill. "My turn." She took the gun and turned to Chuck. "You have a secret. What is it?" she asked under her breath.

Chuck whispered something into her ear. She smiled, and lifted her gun. The music started, and-Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Four shots, four hits. The fourth hit killed the little ship, and the whole booth seemed to whine to a halt in dismay. Chuck raised his arms, cheering her triumph louder than anyone, as the attendant lifted down the fluffy unicorn and placed it in her clutching hands. "Mine."

The attendant put up a new unicorn as his booth was flooded with new players, eager to try for it now that they knew it could be done. "My turn," said Morgan.

"Give it your best shot, buddy," said Chuck. "Ha! You see what I did there."

"It was hilarious, Chuck," said Morgan, focused on the board. "Now be quiet, because it's time for Marty McFly to come out and play."

"Who?" asked Sarah, but her question was lost under the music and shouting as everyone tried for the little ship. Morgan, on the other hand, pulled his gun like a western gunslinger and popped three lesser targets with four shots.

He got a teddy bear. A small one.


"She looks happy," said Rye, as Agent Wu handed him a hot dog. Sarah was all over Chuck, like-Goddammit. Mustard on his dog.

"She should," she said, taking a sip of her drink. "She's been wanting one of those things since she was six years old."

Rye wiped as much of the mustard off as he could. "Too bad he didn't win it for her." Not that she seemed to mind.

"He did," said Anna. "She's a carnie, knew all about the game and the con, knew all sorts of tricks to fox them, but she didn't know one thing, and he did and he told her." She took a big bite of her dog and started chewing furiously.

"So what was the one thing?"

"No idea," she snapped, spitting bits of bun everywhere. "I'm never gonna get one of those damn things."


Crowds and music. Noise and lots of busy motion. If we manage to find anybody in here it'll be a miracle. Decker wandered the grounds, holding a cup of soda he didn't drink, looking for beautiful blondes and/or bright green shirts. Bartowski had already shown himself quite adept at disguising his height at will. He spotted Vincent first, walking around with a bare hot dog held in front of his face. Not even any ketchup.

Suddenly he heard music in stereo, the James Bond theme, once over the comm and also from somewhere to his left. "Found him, and the two goons too," said Lazslo, also in his ear but not somewhere to his left. "He's at the Guitar Hero booth, riffing the whole Spy Themes medley like an expert."

"Of course he is."

"God damn, boss. The blonde is carrying a giant fluffy unicorn."

"So?"

"There's only one place in this whole arcade where you can get a giant fluffy unicorn, boss. The shooting range."

"I was just there," said Victor. "That little spaceship looked like an impossible target to me."

"Pathetic," said Sasha. "Using spy training to get into her pants."

"I don't think so, Sasha. The greenshirt guy has a teddy bear."

"So?"

"So I'm thinking-"

"Marksmanship training," said Decker. "The greenshirt guy is his apprentice." That's why they went into the store.

"Exactly."

"At an arcade?"

"Not my choice of venue, but if it works, it-" Decker broke off, spotting a man emerge from the crowd like a ship from fog. Bryce Larkin, cup of soda in one hand and beautiful blonde in the other, prowled the arcade, eyes always searching. For a second his gaze met Decker's, and he smiled, a small, knowing smirk, but his eyes kept moving, his face turning to the blonde by then. Exactly as if he seen no one and nothing. Perfect tradecraft. They stepped into the crowd and were gone.

"Boss?"

"Head's up, everybody," said Decker. "I just saw Bryce Larkin, and I'm pretty sure he just saw me."

"No way he would have let you see him if he didn't want you to, boss."

"I'm aware of that, Gruber, thank you very much. You guys get that bug planted?"

"Yes."

"Laszlo, how's our Guitar Hero doing?"

"Top of the charts, boss. Looks like the game's over, though. The little guy's trying to give him the bear."

"He won't take it."

"He didn't, boss. How'd you know?"

"The bear was just the stakes, something at risk. Motivation. Now that it's served that purpose, there's no reason to actually claim it, and it looks more magnanimous not to."

"The blonde's eating it up."

"Of course she is," said Sasha.

"They're on the move."

"And so are we," said Decker. "Everybody regroup back at the van. It's an hour back to Burbank and we've got a bug on the car. I'm sure Mr. Bartowski will have some interesting things to tell us."


"God-dammit."

"Can't we turn it off?" asked Laszlo, tired of holding his hands over his ears.

"No, we can't turn it off," snapped Decker. "It's a code. It has to be a code."

"It's a desert island!" yelled Gruber. "Who in their right mind brings mayonnaise to a desert island? Obviously mustard is the way to go."

"Too spicy," said Victor.

"Thank you," said Sasha. "It cuts off whole swaths of more delicately flavored lunch meats."

"It's gotta be a code, it's gotta be a code, it's gotta be a code, it's gotta be a code. Knock it off!" The sudden silence was a balm to Decker's gotten-on nerves. "I can't hear Bartowski think with all the noise you're making."

"Does it have to be lunch meat?" said the guy in the green shirt. "Couldn't you put Jessica Alba between two slices of bread and-"

"Jessica Alba?" sneered Tommy. "Has he never seen Halle Berry?"

"That's why he lives in Burbank and not Hollywood."

Decker leaned back against the side of the van and closed his eyes. "Are we there yet?"


A/N2 I'll gladly accept LOL as a review, but you still have to type it in that box down there.