See, I told you I'd be back!
At this very moment, a suspicious looking black car sat outside the Papen County Morgue. A Crown Victoria Police Interceptor, it was most out of place in a town that still used 1980s Chevrolet Caprices for police cars.
Inside the car sat four men – one by the name of Francis Xavier Mullins, and his subordinates, known simply as Two, Four, and Six. They knew that the corpse of Agent Sarah Walker lay inside the morgue, and they were simply waiting for their chance to grasp Charles Bartowski
"You're sure Walker's dead?" Mullins asked anxiously.
"No doubt," Four replied. "She touched the Prius, and I activated the defense system. It blew her across the street."
No sooner had he said this, than the door to the morgue opened, and who should walk out but Sarah Walker, supported by Chuck Bartowski and John Casey.
"Yep, she looks REAL dead," Six cracked.
"Crap," Mullins muttered. "Crap, poo, ding-a-long doggy doo!"
The other three looked at him curiously. "It's this damn town," he rationalized. "It's starting to get to me. All the bright colors, and weird people – it's like we're in a friggin' Doctor Seuss book."
Mullins' momentary lapse in his profane vocabulary had given the intelligence agents a window – unbeknownst to them – to get into Emerson Cod's car, without Mullins and his cohorts noticing. When Mullins finally realized that Sarah Walker, Charles Bartowski, and John Casey were no longer on the sidewalk, there was nothing to see but Emerson Cod's taillights fading into the distance, and then disappearing around a corner.
"I hate this assignment," Mullins fumed. "I hate that that little Munchkin pied us. I hate that she sent us to the wrong damn Chuck. I hate that Bartowski kid, and I really hate Walker. I will have my revenge on her someday, you just see if I don't."
As Frank Mullins stewed like an overgrown roast, Emerson threaded his way through town toward the Pie Hole. Ned sat up front, with a warning from Chuck that should he even consider coming within a yard of Sarah, Chuck would arrange for his testicles to become friends with his tonsils.
"Well, there ya go," Ned said sarcastically. "Violence. Answer to everything."
"It's the answer to plenty, as far as I'm concerned," Casey snarked.
"And that's what's wrong with this country," Ned shot back. "So violent, so gun-ridden – think of all that money that's being spent on Iraq, how much more good it could do back home."
Casey had fixed Ned with a stone cold glare at this point, but Ned didn't notice. Sarah and Chuck nervously watched as he built up steam.
"And you know, you intelligence agents don't help either, running around, being all big and bad and… and Bondish, and it just makes me sick that you people are allowed to run aro-"
Ned suddenly found himself staring down the business end of a forty-five caliber Glock G.A.P. Power Trio gun. John Casey had come to the end of his rope, and was now showing Ned what the end of that rope looked like. Or at least, that's what he thought, until Emerson Cod interfered.
"Put the gun away, crazy cracker," Emerson said from the front seat. He held in his hand a nine millimeter Walther pistol that, while small, still looked like a bazooka when held three centimeters from John Casey's eye.
"I might be driving, but I can shoot the antenna off a fly from a hundred yards without looking," Emerson continued, keeping his eyes on the road. "Now remove the gun from my business associates face. Only polite people ride in my car, so unless you'd like to get out and walk…"
Slowly, Casey put his gun away. Emerson withdrew his hand and holstered his gun as well. Then, with no warning, he reached over and smacked Ned in the back of the head.
"What the hell is wrong with you, boy!" he hollered. "You don't tell a military veteran to his face what a bunch of screwups they are!"
"How'd you know I was military?" Casey asked quietly.
Is that fear I see on his face? Chuck asked himself.
"You carry yourself like military," Emerson replied. "That, and I heard you call yourself 'Major' to the coroner."
By this point, they had reached the Pie Hole. Emerson carefully parked his pride and joy curbside, and they all piled out of the car, though Chuck was careful to hold Sarah back until Ned was well away from the car. As they walked up to the Pie Hole, they heard what was certainly a howl of dismay come from inside.
"What the hell happened?" Ned moaned as Chuck and Sarah came in the door.
What the hell, indeed. Strings of dough were scattered haphazardly throughout the Pie Hole. Fruit – whole and smashed – littered the floor. A significant explosion of flour seemed to have coated the entire bakery case in a fine white powder. It almost seemed as though zoo animals had been let loose inside the pie-maker's domain.
"OLIVE!" Ned bellowed.
Olive's head popped up from behind the case. "Uh… hi?"
"What the HELL happened?" Ned growled, stalking toward her.
"I'm not sure…" Olive replied uncertainly, trying to back away from Ned.
Ned's glare grew more intense, and then suddenly, he stopped. He took a deep breath, looked at the ground, and then back at Olive.
"What was it, Olive?" he asked pleadingly. "Was it monkeys? Some terrifying pie monkeys maybe got loose?"
"No," Olive replied earnestly. "These four men, they came with guns, and they told me they were going to shoot me if I didn't tell them were to find Chuck, and so I told them –"
"You told them where to find Chuck?!" Ned shouted. "What the hell were you thinking?!"
"What does it matter to you?" Casey asked. "You just met the guy!"
"What?" Ned whirled, confused. "Oh, right. No, not you. I could care less about you."
"Oh, gee, thanks," Chuck replied as Ned turned back to face Olive.
"If you'd kindly let me finish," Olive grumped, "I told them that she was at the library. Which is where she was. And then, they told me they were going to shoot me anyway, so I threw dough and fruit and a whole bag of flour at them, and they eventually left."
"You still told them where she was!" Ned practically whimpered.
"Ned?" came a voice from the door. "What happened?!"
Ned turned to see Charlotte "Chuck" Charles standing in the doorway of the Pie Hole. "Chuck!" he shouted, running to her.
As the pie maker ran, Charles Bartowski realized that his current trajectory would cause him to intersect with Sarah Walker's position in under a second. And so, without thinking, Charles Bartowski hurled himself at Sarah Walker, twisting her away from the pie maker as he did so.
Ned, having been reunited with Chuck after that brief scare, came skidding to a stop mere inches from her. Suddenly realizing that he had dashed to her side and was now unable to do anything further, they just stood their awkwardly, oblivious to what was going on closer to the bakery case.
Chuck Bartowski had landed with a hard thud, Sarah on top of him. He had been knocked out for the briefest of seconds, but came to when Sarah slapped him lightly on the cheek. "Oh, hi there," he said woozily, opening his eyes.
"Are you okay?" she asked with concern.
"Yeah, I'm… whoa…"
Chuck tried to sit up, but found himself dizzy. "I think I'm going to lie back down," he whispered, returning his head to the floor.
"I knew you weren't okay," Sarah said anxiously. Still sitting on his stomach, she leaned over him to check the back of his head. This afforded Chuck a direct view down the front of Sarah's shirt. His eyes went wide as he got a free show… and then his vision went double… and then his vision went completely black.