Emerson Cod was not a small man, nor was he a fast one. But at this moment, he was moving through the halls of the Papen County Morgue with all the power and tenacity of a diesel locomotive.

For you see, approximately fifty-two seconds earlier, the pie-maker had applied his magic touch to a young CIA agent by the name of Sarah Walker. Unfortunately, before he could apply the touch again, another agent named Charles Bartowski had burst into the room, pulled a gun on Ned, and threatened to "blow his brains all over the refrigerator" behind him should he touch Ms. Walker again.

Unfortunately, what Mr. Bartowski did not know was that if the pie-maker failed to touch the revived body again within a minute, another person within the general proximity would have to die in the newly reborn person's place. Thus, Emerson Cod, fearing for his life, had run from the room as quickly as he could.

"If you like your life, I would highly suggest you shift your ass!" Emerson Cod bellowed as he barged into the lobby of the morgue.

The coroner looked up at him, saw the fear written all over Emerson's face, and asked no questions – he just stood up and ran like hell.

As they emerged from the front door of the morgue, Emerson saw a rather enraging sight – a young punk, wearing a hooded sweatshirt, attempting to jimmy the lock on the door of his beloved Lincoln Continental. Emerson momentarily forgot his fear for his life.

"Hey, bitch, hands off the car!" Emerson yelled, sounding approximately like a wounded moose.

The punk turned to look at Emerson – and promptly dropped dead.

Emerson Cod suddenly felt conflicting feelings. Should he be enraged at the impulsive CIA agent for causing a death and jeopardizing his own well-being? Or should he be thankful that the agent had prevented the theft of his pride and joy, his very own hooptie?

"Huh," Emerson said. He walked up to the punk, and then his rage overtook him. "You think you can break into a man's car?" he shouted, kicking the corpse. "Any punkass can break into a car, but it takes a real little bitch to break into a man's ride! BOY!"

He paused for breath. "You need a role model!"

And with that, Emerson stalked back into the morgue, leaving a very confused coroner to collect the curbside corpse.

Emerson had been like a locomotive when departing the morgue. Now, as he re-entered the room wherein Charles Bartowski held the pie-maker at gunpoint, he could be more closely approximated to a bull moose in mating season.

Emerson had both guns out as he burst through the door. "Drop the gun, Whitey!" he boomed.

Chuck Bartowski took one look at him and immediately complied, Casey's Glock clattering to the floor. He backed up, keeping himself in front of Sarah.

"No need to worry about re-deading her," Emerson snarked, turning his attention to Ned. "There's a dead car thief on the curb. Of course, we are gonna need to do some SERIOUS persuading to get Dead Girl Number Two out of here."

He turned to John Casey. "You look like a government freak. How much cash you got on you?"

Casey just stared at him for a moment, and then spoke. "Uh, probably about five grand. Why?"

Emerson's eyebrows practically crawled up his forehead, like caterpillars, when Casey said "five grand", but he quickly regained himself. "Like I said, there's a coroner out there who needs some serious persuading."

Casey growled something unintelligible, turned and glared at Chuck and Sarah, growled some more, and then reached in his pocket for his wallet.

Chuck had to help Sarah walk, as she was still somewhat weak on her feet – she might have been alive again, but her nervous system was still trying to shake off the effects of 40,000 volts coursing through her body just a couple of hours beforehand.

The coroner was entering the lobby of the morgue with the body of the car thief as the ragtag group passed through. "What the hell was that all about?" he muttered under his breath as Emerson drew within earshot.

"I don't know what you're talking about, and neither do you," Emerson replied darkly, slipping Casey's five grand to the coroner as they passed each other.

"Spend it wisely, deathmonger," Casey growled, stalking out the door.

And so the motley crew of spies realized that they needed to do a little bit of cover-up, and who better to assist than the local private investigators whom they had happened upon. At the suggestion of Emerson Cod, they chose to retire to the Pie Hole, where they would all get their stories straight… and where Sarah would learn that she was not alone.

Update 12/25/07: Chuck vs. the Pie-Maker will return after the New Year.