A/N For the benefit of those who don't know, there's a Facebook group for Chuck Fanfiction, and we'd love to have some new members.

Finally I'm at the end of this, and some of these canon plots can be laid to rest.

"Bang! You're dead."

"I've heard of you."

"A girl can dream, I suppose."

"I'm here about a job?"

Chuck stood in a room full of computers and programmers, and men with guns currently pawing through the things in his backpack. It was a good thing he didn't care about any of that cover gear, as the man with the vaguely generic Eastern European accent was giving him instructions. Best programmer, one penny, the usual. Games the P-man had left behind years ago. It's like all these bad guys watched the same bad movies.

Once the hackoff started he even pretended to follow those rules, as long as he thought the guys standing behind him could keep up with what he was really doing. Once he assessed the quality of the security measures their best programmer came up with, he ratcheted that estimation down a bit and got on with his real job.

Morgan stood in the center of the clearing, right outside the entrance to the little community that was their target. It was, strangely enough, a nudist colony, and he was the new guy, so of course the infiltration was on him. Sticks and stones under bare feet, yay. On the plus side, it was pretty dark, he slept in the nude anyway, and was not all that body-conscious at the best of times.

These were not the best of times. He was stark naked, visible in the lights of the encampment (and of course everyone had NVGs, except him, because naked), his hands not quite covering his groin. "It's not what it looks like," he said to Alex.

Because of course she was there. Red Team was every bit as good as Blue Team, and she was their new guy. Equally naked, she looked over his shoulder at Swan, who had decided for some reason to join Morgan on his mission and was blended in appropriately. The similarities ended there. Swan was well-used to using her body like a weapon, and had no reluctance in doing so, as Alex well knew. She smiled at her boyfriend. "I believe you, Morgan."

He smiled back, looking into her eyes. Nowhere else. "You do?"

"Of course," said Alex to him, before switching her focus to Swan. "If it was what it looked like, two hands wouldn't be enough. I should know."

Swan shoved Morgan to the side. "Go get the chip, Grimes. I'll hold off the enemy here."

"She's not-"

"That's an order, Grimes!"

"Try not to hurt her," Morgan said as he ran off, Alex' backup right behind him.

"Oh, I'll try," said Swan, cracking the bones in her neck theatrically. "I don't know if I'll succeed."

Alex flowed forward into an attack position. "He wasn't talking to you."

Elsewhere...

Casey lay as still as possible, doing his bit to maintain the charade of his dea-Charade! That was it. He knew he'd seen the whole 'fake your funeral' bit done in some movie or other. He wondered if Chuck had, and if so, did he remember how well it went for the guy in the coffin? At least that guy was actually dead, so it wasn't a real...fake...?

Anyway, nothing to do now except wait for the inevita-

The door cracked open, a single beam from a dim light playing over the sheet above Casey's head. He closed his eyes. "Bingo," said someone, probably Mackintosh. "Told you he'd be here."

"How do you know it's him?" asked T.I.

"Look at the size of the body," said Mackintosh. "Who else could it be?"

"Frankenstein," drawled Packard.

"They're here, Colonel Casey," said a voice in his ear, just after the nick of time. "Look dead."

"And it better be him under there," growled Packard, unhappy even in success. "I had a great plan for blowing that church."

"Why waste hours rigging a church with Feds crawling all over it, when you could spend minutes breaking into the funeral home?" asked Mackintosh. Casey heard a noise like someone opening a case.

"Getting something out of a bag," said Casey's backup. "Looks like a circular saw."

The saw made a noise as Mackintosh tested the power. "Easy-peasy."

"Because funeral homes are creepy-weepy," said T.I. "I'd rather face off against all of his friends in a church."

"How many could he have?" asked Packard.

T.I. kept going. "There's no blood, and I hate the smell."

"Incoming."

Casey held his breath, as someone pulled the cloth from over his face. "You realize he's grey under all that makeup. He barely looks lifelike."

"He didn't look lifelike when he was breathing," said Packard.

"Red or grey, his hand will open the vault," said Mackintosh. The saw started up again. "At least this way I don't get blood all over me. Get his hand up."

T.I. grabbed Casey's arm and lifted it from the gurney, as Packard moved in with the flashlight.

Casey grabbed Mackintosh's wrist, kicking up with his legs. The cloth covering his body sailed over Packard's head, as Casey's knee hit his hand, and the light flew across the room. Casey rolled off the gurney and fell, pulling the sheet with him. Packard's sheet-covered head hit the floor hard. Mackintosh, his hand still gripped by Casey, was pulled down to hit his head on the metal gurney, hard. As he slid to the floor, Casey rose up slowly in the flickering, dancing shadows of the broken flashlight, stark naked, to face his last opponent.

T.I. couldn't stop screaming.

Meanwhile, back outside the nudist colony...

The only defense naked fighters have is whatever body part they can put in the way. All martial arts have defensive moves, not all put much emphasis on them. A fighter can wage a full-on attack, taking damage as they try to overwhelm their opponent's defenses. If they can. Alex McHugh had already battered herself against an opponent's superior defenses, and Alex McHugh tried to learn from her mistakes.

Inside the nudist colony...

Corporal Harris ran after Morgan Grimes, just seconds behind him as they ran into the largest but in the camp, which just shrieked 'Office'. The main room, with all its computers, was empty, and Harris could hear Grimes doing something in a back room. "Don't know what you think you're doing, Grimes, but you'll never find him back there." In seconds, Harris hacked a password, deciphered the filing system, and pulled up the target's assigned sector coordinates and bunk number. On his way out he shouted, "You lose, Grimes."

Only then did he realize that the noises from the back room had stopped. He ran to the door and looked in. Grimes was gone, leaving a filing cabinet and a window open behind him. "God-dammit!" He ran to the window and dove out after Morgan, racing to the correct sector and hut. He caught the door before it could close in his face, but he was already too late. Morgan was already standing beside the bed where 'Colin Davis' slept the sleep of the artificial, sweeping up the little drive labeled 'Omen Virus'.

"Give it to me, Grimes," said Harris. "You'll never get past me out this door and there are no windows."

Morgan looked around, and sagged. "God-dammit."

"Yeah, that's what I said," said Harris, with a smidge of respect. "You did real good for a recruit, though. I can't figure how you got here before me."

"Filing cabinets," said Morgan. "The one that gets used most never closes right, so you go for that first. Management-fu."

Harris smirked. "I'll have to remember that, thanks..." He held out a hand. "But you lose."

Morgan walked over and slapped something hard into Harris' palm.

Outside the camp...

Alex aimed a spinning kick up high, but she was too short, and Swan simply pulled her head back out of range. This left her off-balance, unable to dodge the sweep down low that brought her to the ground. Alex caught her head, of course, not wanting to really hurt anyone, but before Swan could take advantage she got slapped in the chest with something hard. Looking down, she noticed a tranq dart lying on her chest. Her head fell back into the dirt. "God-dammit."

"Do us both a favor and stay down," said Alex, and she ran off into the camp. A quick spin through the office aimed her at Davis' bunk, but when she got there all she saw was her backup, sitting on the bed, having shoved the mannequin onto the floor. "What the hell happened?"

"Your boyfriend happened," said Harris, tossing her something.

She caught it, a tranq dart like the one she'd left on Swan. "God-dammit," she muttered. "I should have known he'd think of this." Like she had. Probably thinking of the same movie, too.

Harris shoved at the mannequin with his foot. "A little heads-up would have been nice."

"Well, look at the bright side, Harris," said Alex, with a sigh. "You got close enough for this to be needed, and for it to work, and I did take Swan down." She tossed the dart back. "Same way, too."

Harris caught the dart and shook his head. "You guys are made for each other."

At the warehouse...

Chuck leaned against the door of the electrical room, where the bad guys, whatever lame name they collectively had, stored the more solid items in their inventory. "Uh, dad, guys, anybody? I'm in trouble," he shouted into the air. "Could use a little help here." He could easily save himself, but he'd have to sacrifice the tech to do it. The backpack was back in the main room, and he didn't want to go back there to get it. If his father said he needed it that was a good reason for not leaving it behind.

"Yeah, yeah," said Casey. Something exploded just outside the door, and a lot of bullets were fired. For a little while, and then suddenly no bullets were being fired. Chuck opened the door to see his partner blocking the exit.

"Don't get your panties in a bunch," said Casey. "My team and I were in the neighborhood."

"What are you doing here?" asked Chuck, keeping his voice low, so Casey's team didn't hear too much of it. The side-mission to retrieve the tech was unplanned, so his call for help was equally unplanned. Casey's response was completely unexpected, but it could have been worse. Thank God Sarah wasn't around to hear it. She'd have had the plane turn around, land outside, and then come out to rescue him just so she could kick his ass for needing to be rescued.

Casey was oblivious to all the subtext in Chuck's head. "Saving your bacon, like usual."

"What about your mission?"

"What about it?" asked Casey. "Packard and his bunch practically jumped into my trap." He took out a cigar and put it in his mouth proudly, unlit.

"Don't you mean my trap?" asked Chuck, a little stung. Not that the timing was right in any way for this to have been the outcome of his little surprise.

"Nah. You plan traps like you plan wedding proposals," said Casey with a casual wave. "It was just a cover for my trap. I figured they'd see through yours pretty easily, so I just had to see through theirs. That wasn't too hard either, and I got a little bit of good luck, which never hurts. T.I.'s afraid of zombies, who would have guessed?" Casey looked over his shoulder at some agents Chuck couldn't see, and who therefore couldn't see him. "You lot, scram. Good work." He said, "Even they couldn't miss in these close quarters," so only Chuck could hear it.

Once the exit was clear Casey let his partner leave the room, leading the way back to his ride. He looked down. "What you got there?"

Chuck held up his stolen tech. "I have no idea."

"You know who does?" asked Casey, in a tone used by those who know the answer but hope they're wrong.

"My dad," said Chuck, torn between feeling sorry for throwing his father under the bus, while at the same time hoping it worked.

Casey growled at that. "He doesn't know Walker very well, does he?"

A/N2 So I let my OCs have a little more screen time than I normally do, but I had to do something to make this hodgepodge of story elements work. Let me know what you think of it.