Sorry it took so long, but... New chapter! Senior year, writer's block, and my irritation towards Morgan from the latest Chuck episode has prevented me from continuing this ff. Please do critique and give me ideas if you want this to continue.
Disclaimer: Don't own Chuck and what not.
Chuck Versus The First Mission
23 May 2005
0800 Hours
Casa de Bartowski
Echo Park, Los Angeles, California
Chuck hadn't gotten around to asking Forrest why she had helped him with his Red test the other night; deciding it was time to talk, he got ready to leave for her apartment when she had entered through the Morgan Door.
"Bartowski," She stood in front of his bed and gestured for him to sit. "You weren't ready to kill." Forrest declared frankly whilst crossing her arms as she analyzed her partner's facial expressions. "Being an agent doesn't mean you have to kill. Rarely comes to that, actually. Typically, we shoot to injure than to kill. When the time comes, you'll do it. Last night wasn't it."
Smiling gratefully for what Forrest had done for him, he looked up at her from his seat. "Thanks, Forrest. I know you've got my back."
She responded with a "Yeah, well, whatever. Briefing in five."
After disappearing through the same way she entered his room, Chuck went to get ready. He had exited his room only to bump into his sister on her way to her shift at Westside Medical, where she and Awesome both worked as doctors.
"Oh, sorry, Chuck." Ellie pardoned herself after pecking her brother on the cheek. "Emergency at the hospital. Have a good day! Love you, bye!" She hastily said before dashing out the door like Forrest at sounds of her Lean Pocket burning.
"Oh, okay." Chuck reacted to his older sibling's goodbye. "Love you, too?" He chuckled and went on to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face before he left the apartment for Forrest's.
Walking into Forrest's apartment, he was met with a question. "Carmichael? That's your alias, Bartowski? Charles Carmichael?"
Chuck heard the skepticism in her voice and proceeded to defend his choice. "What? It's alliteration. Helps people remember."
Her response was a roll of her eyes as she looked through the file Graham had sent for Chuck. Forrest raised her eyebrow when she found that the mission was an operation that made them join up with the MI6. Hmm…
Tilting his head, he asked. "What's up?" He noticed something had piqued Forrest's interest as she read about his first mission.
"Working with MI6 on this one. Hopefully you'll be joined up with one who isn't a smug bastard. Make sure you don't make your flashes obvious." She recalled back to one MI6 agent she had let her guard down around; growling, she ripped a chunk out of her Lean Pocket.
Unconsciously touching his head when Forrest mentioned the Intersect, he thought of the information he uncovered during one of the Intersect missions he had a couple months ago. The CIA is building a new Intersect… Still not operational; it will probably be done in a year or two. Does that mean I'll be obsolete? Will they push me aside after they build it?
Forrest mentally debated whether she should ask Graham to join Bartowski on this assignment to watch over him. Can't. He's an agent now. "Watch your back on this one. You'll be after an arms dealer." Thinking of the potential firefights that could happen on Bartowski's mission, she grumbled in envy. Graham better give me something that involves guns.
1900 Hours
Millennium Biltmore Hotel
Los Angeles, California
Whistling in his mind, Chuck noted how grand the hotel foyer was as he walked in. MI6 sure takes care of their agents. He succinctly stopped in the middle of the lobby to regard the security cameras from his peripherals before resuming towards the front desk.
"Hello, sir. How may I help you?" The manager smiled politely at him, but it was clear that he did not wish to be there at all.
"Can you tell me where the bar is?"
His query was swiftly met with a "Down the east wing and make a left."
Following the man's instructions after short-lived confusion about which wing was east, Chuck found himself in the hotel's bar, scanning the patrons' faces to trigger a flash.
A slice of cake
Cole Barker
Various mission reports of MI6/CIA joint cases
A highlighted file of a joint operation incident resulting in suspension of involved agents
A slice of cake
Slightly clenching his jaw, he took a seat at the bar next to the MI6 agent prior to asking the bartender for water. He raised his eyebrow as he processed the intelligence given to him by the supercomputer in his head.
Chuck drank the tall glass of water given to him, tasting a hint of lemon from the slice tastefully placed in it. Cole Barker. He wondered about the MI6/CIA case that the agent was part of; it had stated that he involved himself with a CIA agent, bringing about the compromise of their cover when they had gotten into a dispute. They completed the mission as well as almost causing an international incident; the resulting consequence was their temporary suspension from their respective agencies.
"Business or pleasure?" An English accented voice regarded the casual suit Chuck donned. The owner took a sip of his Scotch on the rocks, awaiting a reply for his comment.
Remembering the code he was given in the mission's file, Chuck replied tersely, "It's always business. I haven't the time for pleasure." He watched the man finish the rest of his alcohol before requesting another one.
"Barker. Cole Barker." The MI6 agent downed his drink easily; scrutinizing Chuck at a glance, he arched a brow. It seems that the CIA is willing to recruit anyone these days. The man seated beside him held no hidden weapons from what he could discern and he was puzzled as to why he wore sneakers along with his suit. "And you are?"
"Charles Carmichael. Shall we go talk business somewhere less public?"
Cole assented, standing up to lead the way to the room the MI6 had kindly obtained for him. At least they're on their way to forgiving me for the fiasco in Sicily.
"Currently, we lack essential data for the mission. The man we are after is unbelievably private. Never leaves his home, let's others do the dirty work for him."
"How are we supposed to catch this guy then?" Chuck racked his brain to solve the problem of how to apprehend an arms dealer with an introverted predisposition.
Cole shook his head and answered the CIA agent's query. "The man loves throwing lavish parties as a way to meet clients. He's throwing one tonight at nine so we won't have any trouble getting in. I've already gotten us into the guest list. The real problem is that we don't know what he looks like." Noticing the confused expression on his colleague's face, he explained, "The man has a tendency to change his appearance, disguising himself as one of the waiters or even a client while he has someone acting on his behalf. It's a bit of a game for him, I suppose. Our plan is to simply mingle and discover his identity either prior to the end of the party or before we're discovered."
"Right." Chuck responded skeptically; he had been involved in the sidelines of more missions than he could count with both his hands to know that nothing ever goes as planned. "So it's a formal party, right?"
2100 Hours
Avakian Estate
Playa del Rey, Los Angeles, California
Stepping out of the stretch limousine, Chuck found himself staring at an opulent estate that undoubtedly proved that business was doing quite well for the arms dealer. Cole stood beside him, coolly fixing his cufflinks. A bouncer stood beside the entrance along with several security guards as guests were either graciously accepted in or roughly denied.
"Richard Danvers, and this my brother, Evan."
The usher quickly scanned the list he held, searching for their names. With a nod, he signaled the guards to step aside to allow them entrance. "I hope you enjoy the party."
Chuck trailed after his 'brother' inside, his training kicking in as he surveyed the area for cameras and other security measures. Geez… He identified a number of security cameras, implying that there were only a limited amount of blind spots at specific times, along with guards positioned around the entryways to monitor the guests.
Cole whisked two flutes of red wine from a passing waiter. Tasting it, he made an approving face. "1990 Chateau Latour Pauillac. The man knows his wine."
"We need to mingle." Chuck spoke frankly as he swished his wine around in the glass, though he did not take a sip of it. He preferred to stay sober as it was his first official mission. Stay alert, Chuck, he reminded himself inwardly.
"Course. Split up. I'll take the east and west wing while you take the courtyard and sitting room. 'Gatsby' is the safe word. Remember that." The MI6 agent said before he made his way to the east.
Chuck continued forward towards the heart of the party in the living room, the hum of a myriad of conversations occurring all at once grew louder with each step he took. Once again, he scanned the room. Men in prim suits and elegantly dressed women congregated into groups participating in idle small talk as Chuck walked through. He found the arms dealer's double near the fireplace, speaking to several women who were brazenly throwing themselves at him.
Eventually, he found himself in the courtyard which was illumed by the small little hanging lights attached to the patio cover. Chuck unnoticeably winced as he felt a flash initiate.
A bouquet of carnations
Oshin Avakian
Withdrawn allegations on illegal exchanges due to insufficient evidence
Accused of numerous murder charges; not once convicted
A bouquet of carnations
Major baddie. Rubbing his temple with his free hand, he turned away slightly, watching the arms dealer disguised as a client socialize with the guests. He began to hunt for Cole, striding leisurely to retain his cover as a part of the many guests who were enjoying themselves.
"Damn it." Cole gripped the gunshot wound on his side he had received from one of the clients who recognized him; he swiftly incapacitated the portly man, handling him none too gently as he hid the client inside a closet he inadvertently came across. After he fixed his suit jacket to cover the injury, Cole hurriedly joined the party to seek out his 'brother.'
"Ah, Mr. Danvers."
It took half a second for Cole to realize that he was being referred to before he spun around to acknowledge the man who addressed him. He found himself face-to-face with the arms dealer's stand-in; for the sake of maintaining his cover, he smiled civilly, "Mr. Avakian. I must say, you throw an excellent party."
The arms dealer's double laughed, showing unnaturally white teeth, before speaking once more in his Armenian accent. "This is nothing more than a small gathering compared to the parties I throw in my summer villa in Bora Bora."
"Richard, there you are!" Chuck greeted, offering Cole the untouched wineglass he had been given earlier. "It seems you've found our host for this evening. Hello, I'm Evan. Richard's brother."
Clever. Cole listened as Chuck continued to speak in what he would say was a decent English accent to the false Mr. Avakian. Under no circumstances though would he acknowledge how comparable the accent was to his own; it was as if Chuck was a native Englishman himself.
"Thank you. We'll keep in touch for any business negotiations. We'll have to take account of our inventory and finances prior to any of that though, but I'm sure you'll be hearing from us."
The fake agreed, his smile was plastered on his face as he moved on to find another guest to accost. Chuck turned his attention to the MI6 agent, "I found him."
"Did you? How?" Cole brusquely said, savoring the aftertaste of the wonderfully aged red wine.
"I just did."
"All right. I won't ask how you did then, but what should we do to get to him?"
The English man waited for a response when he discerned the concern in the CIA agent's slightly widened eyes when he found blood on his colleague's shirt spreading further that his suit jacket was now useless in covering the stain unless he buttoned it up, which he commenced to do.
Chuck began to ask if he needed help, but stopped himself. He's a MI6 agent. He knows what he's doing. "We need a timed distraction. We'll take him in as it's going on."
"What do you propose then? We need to disable the cameras and the guards."
"I'm familiar with the cameras. They're the TKX-50 models. They're equipped for remote access so it's possible for us to hack into them." Chuck explained, "We just need to locate someone with access."
Cole automatically surveyed the room. "I think I found our guy." He made a gesture towards one of the guests, a surly man who appeared to be the head of Avakian's security detail.
Groaning, Chuck shook his head and muttered to no one in particular, "What is up with all these huge guys? Do they all deal with steroids?"
"Most likely. An arms dealer typically has some ties with the drug cartel." The MI6 agent responded automatically as he worked his mind for any ideas to subdue the large man.
Drugs and guns. Chuck shrugged as he grabbed a water glass from a circulating waiter. He abruptly coughed as he spit the contents back into the glass. "Ugh. Vodka."
Cole took the drink from Chuck's possession and downed it in one gulp, "No use in wasting perfectly good liquor."
Shaking his head at the man's lack of consideration for his liver, he nodded towards the hulking giant of Avakian's security detail. "Distract him and I'll tranq. We have no other choice right now, and it's best if we get out of here as fast as possible." And hopefully, it'll all be okay.
"All right. Let's do this." With his last statement, the MI6 agent started lumbering towards their target, progressing through the crowd as if he were lost.
"Watch it." The bulky man snarled at the stranger, determining him drunk by the way he proceeded to smile foolishly and slurred his apology.
"Oh, sor.." Cole made a face that suggested biliousness, but then noticeably swallowed it back down. "Ugh. I'm okay. Just felt, ugh, my dinner coming back up. Haha." He made another expression of queasiness and leaned against the security guard, imperceptibly backing him into an insufficiently minded corner. "Shouldn't have had that last shot."
Down you go, big guy. Administering ten doses worth of tranquilizer into the man's bloodstream via injection into the large protruding vein on his neck, Chuck watched as the giant began to slump forward, threatening to crush his English partner before he used all his strength to hold him back. That went better than I thought. He was starting to feel optimistic when he realized that he was supporting the head of Avakian's security detail in the midst of a party that was in full swing. Crap. It didn't help that the man was probably two hundred pounds of pure muscle. He turned his attention to Barker, expecting the experienced MI6 to have a plan only to find him applying pressure to his bullet wound. Okay, I'm in the middle of a bad guy's party with Cole injured and I'm holding up a giant. Don't freak out.
As always, please review! I'd love to hear your thoughts. Have a good day/night, everyone!