There once was a show called "Chuck"

Which decidedly did not suck.

Who owns it? Not me.

But it did reach Season 3

When NBC said, "What the…heck!"

Chapter 11

In case you were ever wondering, sitting in the middle of an alley while tied to a chair is quite an awkward experience. Luckily, there weren't any passersby for me to explain my situation to (though I'm not sure what I could have actually explained). Even more luckily, it was too early for the muggers to come out.

Occasionally, I would hear the sound of a crash, gunshot, or loud grunt coming from inside the warehouse. Based on the various sounds, I tried to figure out who was winning the fight, or even if there was still a fight going on. It was like a more violent version of watching scrambled porn. Not that I've ever done that.

Finally, I saw Sarah run out through the doorway, and head towards me. "How's it going," she asked nonchalantly.

"Oh, just keeping an eye out for any more bad guys." Of course, it had recently become clear to me that I wasn't very good at recognizing actual bad guys.

As proof of this, I squeaked slightly as Sarah pulled a knife out from under her pant leg. However, she just reached around and cut the rope binding me to the chair. "You need to get out of here."

We turned around, only to stop in our tracks. The Romanian was standing in the alley, blocking our escape route. I turned back to Sarah, who pointed to a thin ladder on a wall at the far end from the warehouse. "We'll have to climb."

"Um, are you sure?" I asked, but she was already pushing me towards the ladder. She turned quickly and fired a wide shot at the Romanian.

I uneasily grabbed the ladder, and slowly climbed up. "Don't worry, I'm right behind you," I heard Sarah yell from under me.

"Well I apologize in advance if I fall and land on you."

"You're doing fine. Lucky for us, we're valuable to them, so they aren't trying to kill us."

"Really?" I asked as I heard a gunshot from down below.

"They're just trying to get us to fall. Keep going, and hold on tight to the ladder."

The building wasn't a particularly tall one, so I managed to avoid any 'rope in gym class' flashbacks and reach the top. Sarah was right behind me, turning to fire another shot at the Romanian below. "So now what?" I asked.

"Now, you play right into my hands," a voice said from off to the side. I turned to say Officer Wallace standing there with a malicious grin, her gun pointed right at me.

"Now that the handler is here," Wallace leered, "perhaps we can get rid of the dork."

"Hello, Bridget," Sarah commented.

"You two know each other?" I rasped, my throat dry in apprehension.

"Sure. This is Bridget Randall. She was brought in a couple of years after me. I'm sorry to see she was turned. She was quite good."

"Brought in where? Turned from what?" I asked, but everybody ignored me.

"Oh, I just saw a better opportunity," Randall sneered. "And point of correction, I'm much better than good."

"We'll see about that." Sarah had moved in front of me.

I heard footsteps from behind, and I turned to see that the Romanian had now reached the roof, and was pointing his gun at Sarah.

"Where's Casey?" I asked.

"Oh, your Casey was apparently no match for my friend here, so I'm afraid he won't be joining us. Now, Agent Walker, drop your weapon, unless you think you can shoot both of us before we take down you or your little buddy over there."

Sarah sighed, and kneeled down to drop her gun. Wallace looked to the Romanian. "Take him out!"

My heart attack was interrupted by a ringing sound from my pants. Figuring I had nothing to lose, I reached down and grabbed the cell phone I'd retrieved from Bryce. I answered. "Hello?"

"Where is my car?"

I glanced up to see that the Romanian and Wallace had been momentarily surprised by the call. I figured my best option was to stall for time. "Um, Chuck?" I said into the phone. I saw Wallace's eyes narrow, and she motioned the Romanian toward me.

"No, this isn't Chuck. This is Steve! The guy whose car you stole!"

"Hey Chuck, this isn't a great time, I'm kind of busy. Maybe you could call back later?"

"Geez, Lester said you were a nutjob, but…" I hung up as I saw the Romanian approach me.

Fortunately, the momentary distraction paid off. While Wallace's eyes had been turned away, Sarah had reached down and grabbed her gun. Now she fired at the Romanian. The shot hit him in the shoulder, and he fell. Sarah turned back to Wallace. Both women had their guns aimed straight at each other.

"So, I guess this is a chance for you to see how good I am."

"I thought you'd never ask," Sarah practically purred. Both women slowly put their guns down at the same time, and moved towards each other.

As anyone who's seen my DVD collection can tell you, I'm a bit of a kung-fu fan. I could probably name about 75% of all Bruce Lee moves on sight. Back in high school, Chuck and I had re-enacted about half of the fight scenes from "Enter the Dragon" (yeah I know, we weren't that popular).

But this was something else entirely.

Watching Sarah and Wallace fight was, for lack of a better word, amazing. After a while I forgot about the danger I was in, and just stood there watching. Both women were clearly very skilled. Wallace seemed to be slightly more athletic, but Sarah counteracted this by anticipating every attack a half-second before it occurred. Finally, Wallace made a quick move and was able to knock down Sarah. As Wallace moved in for the kill, Sarah scissor-kicked, knocking Wallace's legs out from under her. Sarah quickly leaped on top of Wallace, her knees holding her down.

I sighed in relief, resisting the urge to applaud. If Jeff had been here to witness the fight, he probably would have fainted. Right after complaining about the lack of hair-pulling.

"I guess we've answered that question," Sarah said. "You're good, but not good enough."

"Maybe not," Wallace chuckled. "But it won't matter." Her eyes shifted to the side.

My attention had been so dominated by the fight, I didn't pay attention to the Romanian. He had managed to get up, and grabbed all of the guns. One of the guns was now aimed at Sarah, and the other was aimed at me.

"Get his cell phone!" Wallace commanded as she stood up. The Romanian did as told, slowly approached, his eyes darting between me and Sarah.

As he continued to move, the Romanian passed close by the ladder. A hand reached up from over the side, grabbing the Romanian's ankle. With one deft yank, the Romanian fell sideways. Before he could get up, the other hand appeared, and pulled him over the edge. The Romanian vanished with a surprisingly high-pitched yelp. The yelp only lasted a few seconds, and then was permanently cut off. I winced.

John Casey pulled himself up onto the roof, and motioned his own gun at Wallace. Casey's face was covered with multiple scratches, and there was a bloody patch on the side of his shirt. Extending from this wound was the box-cutter, which Casey pulled out.

"Ugh," he said, "I'm going to need a tetanus shot."

"Um, I know a place." I muttered, but was ignored by everyone.

Now surrounded, Wallace raised her hands. Sarah produced a pair of handcuffs, and quickly put them around Wallace's wrists.

At this point, I think Jeff would have had a heart attack.

The sun was just setting when we all returned to the alley. A couple of other men in dark suites were waiting for us, and Casey went ahead to speak with them. Sarah still was holding onto Wallace, now looking more sullen than intimidating.

I stood off to the side while Casey, Sarah and the other men escorted Wallace to the back a black van parked in the alley. Then, while the strange men went to deal with what was left of the Romanian, I watched Sarah and Casey in animated discussion with each other. On occasion, I would see one of them point in my direction.

I thought about what had happened to me during the last couple of days. It turned out that I had been right about Chuck, at least in part. Somehow, he was of great interest to whomever Officer Wallace, or Bridget Randall, worked for. And she believed he was alive, even though Bryce had told me otherwise. Bryce, Sarah, and Casey were working against Wallace and her men, which at least made it seem like they were the good guys. And somehow Emmitt Milbarge was in the middle. Clearly, for everything I'd learned, I hadn't learned anything.

Finally, Sarah moved away from Casey and approached me. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," I replied. "I would have helped, you know, with all the fighting and stuff. But you guys seemed to have it taken care of."

Sarah smiled briefly. "Just another day at the office."

"So what happens to her?" I motioned to the van.

"Well, Casey is going to have a long talk with her, to find out what she knows, and what she's shared."

"So he's an interrogator, like Jack Bauer?"

"Casey is a lot of things." I shrugged. The guy never struck me as the Renaissance man type.

"So what about me? Do I get interrogated too?"

"I don't think that will be necessary."

"Oh." I remembered what Wallace had said earlier. "That building in Glendale? It got blown up?"

Sarah nodded.

"That was my fault, wasn't it?"

Sarah shrugged. "Technically, you did lead Randall to it. But we were prepared. We managed to evacuate everybody beforehand."

"I'm glad." It wasn't the first time I'd been responsible for the destruction of real estate, so I could handle that. Being responsible for the loss of lives wasn't something I wanted weighing on my soul.

"You are a bit of a problem for us, though. Even if you did help us get to Randall and her henchmen."

"So, what are you going to do?"

"You're coming with me."

I gulped.

You'd think I'd finished being scared for one day, but riding with Sarah wasn't exactly a comforting experience. My initial excitement at riding in a Porsche for the first time was quickly replaced with white-knuckle dread at the first left turn. I didn't speak to Sarah, as I was afraid of distracting her while the speedometer flirted with 80.

I tried to keep track of where we were headed, but the traveling speed and the encroaching darkness of the night made that impossible. I eventually settled into a restful daze occasionally interrupted by gasps of fear anytime I saw oncoming headlights.

After about an hour, we stopped at a gas station. "How much further?" I asked.

"We'll be there before you know it."

"You aren't going to tell me where you're taking me."

Instead of answering, Sarah said, "Why don't you get something to drink in the convenience store? Maybe they have grape soda."

"How did you…"

"Chuck mentioned it once. Why don't you get me one too?"

I nodded, and turned to open the passenger door. However, before I could leave the car, I felt a sharp prick on my shoulder, and the 'open' sign by the store suddenly turned blurry.

I awoke to find myself seated in another chair. At least this time I wasn't tied up, I thought ruefully. The chair, a rather worn-looking barcalounger in a color that I was sure didn't exist in nature, was at least slightly comfortable to sit in, though apparently not to sleep in. I rubbed my eyes to get a better look at my surroundings. The room was fairly dark, but the light streaming through a window in front of me told me that it was morning. Before I could get my full bearings, I was interrupted.

"Good morning, sleepyhead."

My head whipped to the side, immediately recognizing the voice I hadn't heard in six months.

"Chuck."