A/N: Irishfan62 was the first to get the title reference – congrats.

Also, a couple of reviewers have pointed out the similarities between this story and Chuck. I hadn't intended that when I started, but hey, what the heck – Chuck was a darned good show.

Disclaimer: As ever, don't own.

"Robbie, dear, don't you want to finish your Brussels sprouts?"

"No time, Mom." As he fished in his pocket for his keys, Robbie cast a sidelong glance at the grandfather clock in the hall. 9:05. Cat would already be done with rehearsals by now, and here he was, failing to keep his promise that he would pick her up on time. One of these days she was going to get fed up with his unreliability and dump him – he could just sense it.

At last he found his keys and hurried to the driveway – then pulled up short. "Crap."

All four of his tires were flat. All four. Damn it, universe, why do you hate me so much?

With a heavy hand, he pulled out his PearPhone and dialed. "Cat, sweetheart? I'm so, so sorry, but I can't come get you."

Her voice lost none of its usual cheeriness at the news. "Not a problem, Robbie."

"Please tell me you're not going to walk home. Not at night. It's too dangerous-"

"I'm aware of the crime rate in Los Angeles, you know," she answered wryly. "Anyway, Gunther's already been kind enough to offer me a ride."

"G-Gunther?" The hair on the back of Robbie's neck bristled. He had never liked that suave, slick exchange student, and he had always suspected that Gunther had his eye on Cat. But what was there to be done? He couldn't very well ask Cat to turn the offer down and leave herself stranded at school. "I see. Tell him-" He swallowed hard and forced the unpleasant words out. "-Tell him I'm really grateful to him for taking you home."

"Why, Robert Jacob Shapiro. Is that a hint of jealousy I detect in your voice?"

"Jealousy? Don't be silly." Sweat dripped down his forehead.

Cat giggled. "Frankly, I think it's sweet. And, for the record? Gunther's not my type."

"Oh, thank you, God," he whispered.

"What was that?"

"No-nothing. Take care, babe. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good night, Robbie."

As Robbie hung up, he pondered what could have caused the flats. The driveway and the street beyond were clean – no glass, no metal that he could see. And he had felt no bumps in the road driving home. It didn't make sense.

He went back in and fetched a flashlight, then returned to the driveway and got down on all fours to examine the tires. At first, he could spot nothing. Then, hidden deep within one of the treads of the right rear tire, a small piece of steel glinted in the flashlight's beam. Robbie reached carefully over, tugged at it, and at last worked it free. It was a small double spike, perfectly shaped and free of rust – brand new, in fact. He checked the other tires and found three more.

There's no way this could have happened by accident, he thought. Somebody sabotaged my car. But why would anybody go to the trouble of messing with this old hunk of junk, unless-

Unless they wanted to stop me from picking up Cat.

Oh, no.

His hand immediately went to his phone again – and at the same moment, something heavy struck him across the back of the head. The night sky whirled around him and an explosion of pain shot through his skull.

He toppled face forward to the ground. As he lost consciousness, he felt himself being seized by the ankles and dragged into the nearby bushes.

/

The young man who was currently known as Gunther smiled as he and Cat made their way through the dark parking lot. "I thought you did an excellent job this evening."

"Thanks. I found the part of Desdemona to be far more challenging in practice than it had looked on paper. You were a splendid Iago, by the way. You've got quite a knack for acting."

"Not really – I've just had plenty of practice." More than you can ever imagine, my dear Caterina.

Surreptitiously he studied the parking lot and the buildings across the street. Where the hell is the backup I was promised?

Oh, come on, Gamma, you ridiculous coward – you can subdue a ninety-pound girl by yourself.

He dropped back a step and flexed his fingers, preparing to seize her from behind.

Without even looking toward him, Cat said, in as chipper a tone as ever, "So, you're planning to abduct me then, are you?"

He was so startled that he could do nothing but laugh. "You've got quite the sense of humor, Cat."

At last she turned toward him, her lips curled in a smile, but a steely look in her eyes. "I'm not joking, Gunther – if that is your real name. I imagine it isn't. After all, your attempt at feigning a German accent is hit-or-miss at best."

"Why – why would you think that I would try to-"

"You parked as far from the school as possible, in a spot distant from any streetlight, even though the lot is all but empty and you could have parked anywhere. You're constantly examining your surroundings, which suggests you're an experienced tactician. And there's a faint but unmistakable scent of chloroform coming from the handkerchief in your back pocket, which you failed utterly to mask with the cheap cologne you're wearing for the first time ever."

His face contorted into an involuntary snarl. "You know, kitty cat, there really is such a thing as 'Too smart for your own good'."

He threw a lightning-swift punch at her solar plexus – and she sidestepped, caught his arm in mid-motion, and flipped him over on his back. As he scrambled to his feet, Cat dropped down and swept his legs from under him, then as he fell once again she unleashed an elbow strike that caught him directly in the larynx. The pain was agonizing, and was instantly doubled when the little redhead administered a surgically precise kick to his exposed groin.

As Gunther curled into a fetal position and gasped for breath, Cat calmly remarked, "The human body is really an assemblage of simple machines, all of them bound by the laws of physics and the mathematics of vector motion. Once you understand that fact, martial arts become a simple matter-aagh!"

The spy looked up to see a tranquilizer dart protruding from Cat's neck. As he watched, another struck her between the shoulder blades, then a third in the right bicep. She swayed, moaned, and collapsed in a heap.

A few moments later, a tall, muscular figure holding an air rifle emerged from the shadows. As he extended a hand to Gunther to help him up, the prostrate spy recognized the newcomer's face and groaned.

"Psi. It would have to be you."

"Well, you did ask for an enhanced interrogation specialist."

Gunther got unsteadily to his feet. "You know, you could have taken action a little earlier."

"What, and miss the chance to see you beaten senseless by a tiny little girl? Not for all the tea in China. If only I had had my camera with me…"

"Spare me the snark." Gunther looked down at the unconscious Cat. "Do you think you can get anything out of her?"

The agent codenamed Psi chuckled. "Oh, I suspect I can. She's obviously tougher than she looks – but everyone, no matter how strong, has a breaking point. It's only a matter of finding it."

Without exchanging any further words, the two men bundled Cat into the trunk of Gunther's car and sped off into the darkness.