A/N1: Woo hoo. Two Saturdays in a row. Now the question on everyone's lips – can he keep it up? I wonder myself, TBH.

A/N2: Bill Gates could own Chuck, but doesn't.

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Monday, November 30, 2008; 7 AM PST

Ted Roark's alarm went off. He silenced it and immediately smiled in expectation. He hadn't even opened his eyes yet, but he smiled anyway. Today was the day. Today was going to be so satisfying on so many levels. One of the best days of his life, he expected.

The newly released RIOS was selling like crazy. It had gone on sale on Friday, Black Friday after Thanksgiving, but they had shipped hundreds of thousands of pre-ordered units earlier in the week, for Friday delivery. He expected it to make Roark Instruments several hundred million dollars before year end. And probably an easy billion next year. It was going to be a serious rival to the Windows operating system. But hidden from everyone in the software was an ingenious trap door, so he and his men could access any computer using the RIOS system any time they wanted.

With one new product, he would be launched to the very top of the heap. The alpha dog. The unquestioned master of the other computer and tech billionaires. The rest of them would understand that they were second to him. And that was just the public acknowledgement of his mastery and dominance.

But he was even more powerful than that. What the public didn't know was his leadership of Fulcrum. His control of a virtual army of spies and hit men working throughout the country at his direction. He hadn't used them to advance his business interests so far, but could if he chose to. Those idiots would follow him blindly.

But the first taste of his future was the fact that that little twerp Gates had reached out for a private meeting with him at lunchtime. Gates'd blinked first. When they spoke to each other on Friday, the Microsoft founder had almost begged him for the meeting on Monday. Super-top-secret, he'd said. Quiet lunch at a small Chinese place in LA. Just the two of them with something important to discuss. 'Yeah,' thought Roark. 'Important. Like just how Microsoft was going to bend over and get royally screwed by the new RIOS system and was about to be begging for mercy.'

The imminent humiliation of Gates was going to be the icing on the cake of the RIOS success. He could hardly wait until noon. Still in bed, he grinned to himself. Things were all going perfectly. While his life was perfect, he knew deep in his heart that it was no more than he deserved. The better men always win and he was the better man. He chuckled at the thought.

He swung his legs off the bed and stood up, releasing a loud fart as he did so. His naked bedmate caught the result and groaned. With his back to her he smirked. "Your job is to tell me my farts smell like roses, Candy. Remember that," he said with a grin, walking away from the bed.

The girl groaned, pushed her long brown hair out of her eyes, and said, her voice gruff from sleep, "Cindy. Not Candy."

Still walking to the bathroom, he said over his shoulder, "Like I give a shit."

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A few hours later

Han Village was a simple storefront restaurant. Roark had his driver let him off with Burt, his bodyguard, in front of the establishment. Burt was a young, burly, blond guy with a buzz cut. Even if Roark was only meeting with Gates, he wasn't coming without one of the Life Guards from Fulcrum to watch his back. He'd come to rely on those hard men to keep him safe.

He entered the place on time. An unsmiling small Asian man in a host's suit greeted them. He didn't wait for Roark to say anything, merely said, "This way, please."

He led them to a door in the back wall of the otherwise quiet restaurant. Opening it, he gestured for Roark and his bodyguard to enter.

The room was darker than the dining room proper and had a single table, set with plates, napkins and chopsticks for lunch. The walls were adorned with prints of Chinese villages. Roark was expecting to see Gates and perhaps a lawyer to two to assist in any negotiations. To his surprise, there were only two people in the room and neither one was Bill Gates.

The beautiful blonde woman and the curly haired man did not rise from their seats as he entered, but merely regarded him impassively. He looked around quickly and realized that they were the only ones in the room. No Bill Gates.

He immediately recognized them, but chose to conceal his knowledge and his affiliation with Fulcrum for the time being.

"Where's Bill?"

Chuck said, "Not going to make it today. He's a friend of mine and did me a favor by giving you a call on Friday to set this up. He never had any intention of meeting with you, Roark. He actually thinks you're an arrogant turd. But enough of that, why don't you and your bodyguard sit down? Life Guard, right?"

Roark was curious. The very people he had ordered to be killed were sitting right in front of him, seemingly unarmed. Why had they set this up? He pulled out a chair and sat across from Walker, next to Carmichael. Burt, the bodyguard sat next to both him and Walker and across from Carmichael. Burt was on edge and watching his opponents carefully, but he silently took his lead from the Sachem.

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Roark, while seating himself. "Who are you people?"

Sarah sighed and said, "You're just wasting time, Sachem. Obviously, you know who we are and we know who you are. Pretending otherwise is just plain stupid. We've learned some pretty terrible shit about you, but no one calls you stupid."

Roark studied them for a few moments. Their eyes were clear, their presence strong and serious. He knew they were formidable, but seeing it for himself made it even more obvious. He wouldn't underestimate them.

"Ok. Fine, you're right. No more games. Carmichael and Walker. You two have been a pain in the ass for over a year already," said Roark.

"Good," they both said at the same time, flicking a glance at each other with wisps of smiles on their lips.

"What you are trying to do is pure evil and we will do anything we can to stop you and your Fulcrum monkeys," said Chuck.

Burt shifted in his chair and looked at Chuck hard. He unbuttoned his sport jacket and let it swing loose, giving him easier access to the weapon on his hip. Briefly, Sarah looked at him carefully and calmly in response.

"Well, you won't," exclaimed Roark. "Fulcrum is going to win. We'll see this rotten weak edifice ripped down and replaced with something strong enough to defend itself." He was merely parroting lines from one of his many speeches to the Fulcrum crowd.

"No," said Sarah. "No, you won't."

Carmichael took over from her, "You see, we are going to stop you. We are doing to stop you all. And, frankly, although I'm personally uncomfortable with it, the truth is that your men and women are going to die. There is about to be a broad termination order issued for any member of Fulcrum. The real Intelligence Community will declare open season on you traitors."

"You trying to scare me, Carmichael? I think you'll find that it doesn't work too well," said Roark with a smirk.

"Nope. Not trying to scare you, Sachem. Trying to negotiate with you. You see, you are a successful businessman," said Chuck. "Businessmen negotiate."

"Ok, Carmichael, I'll bite. What do you want from me and in return, what can you offer?"

"I spoke to the President the other day. What we offer you is your life. No termination order for you. You spend the rest of your life in solitary in a special federal prison which has no address and no name. But you get to live."

Roark laughed long and hard. Burt smiled at the humor, but still nervous, didn't laugh out loud. Neither Sarah nor Chuck even smiled.

Eventually, Roark said, "Ok. Good one. I'll bite. What do you want from me in return?"

"The location of Fulcrum's headquarters," said Sarah.

"You people are pathetic," snarled Roark. "Do you have any idea who you are dealing with? So, a lame duck President is pissed off at me? Big fucking deal. He'll be out of office in a matter of weeks. Do you know how many Congressmen I have in my pocket? Forget Fulcrum, I'm just talking about straight up bribery. You think you can take me on? That the Federal government is strong enough to stop me?" He barked a quick laugh. "You fools don't get it. Fulcrum is everywhere. I have men in any agency you might send against me. If you put ten people on a team to stop me, two of them are mine. And I have basically unlimited funds to battle you and your outdated regime. It's a losing fight, Walker, Carmichael. You really think we are going to surrender to you?"

"No. Of course not," said Chuck, shaking his head. "That's ridiculous. I never said I expected Fulcrum to surrender. I expect YOU to surrender. I expect YOU to betray the rest of them to save your own skin."

"Never. I'd die first," declared Roark, with a quick side glance at Burt.

"Naw. I sort of doubt that," said Carmichael confidently. "You see, I know you better than all the files might otherwise reveal. I know things about you that you might not expect, Teddy."

"Like what?"

"I know that at Cal Tech you used to brag about all the girls you'd scored. I know that you would easily steal and plagiarize from others. I know you pretended to friendship, but never really felt anything for those around you. I know you're an egotistical, narcistic, selfish, self-obsessed asshole. You have no morals or principles except what helps you personally. I know you stood up for your buddy as his best man at his wedding and then callously betrayed him. Just like you will betray your Fulcrum followers if I offer you a good enough deal."

"What...? How...?"

"Let me introduce myself, Roark. I'm Charles Bartowski. Son of Stephen and Mary Bartowski."

Roark was stunned into immobility and silence. Stephen's son? HOLY FUCKING SHIT. Holy fucking shit. After all these years, the Carmichael who has been so destructive to his plans is Stephen's son? What are the fucking odds of that? One of the men with more reason to hate him than anyone else in the world, and his son turns out to be his most dangerous enemy. HOLY FUCKING SHIT.

"Stephen?"

"What about him?" asked Carmichael.

"What...?"

"What's he doing? Easy answer. He's working to destroy you and Fulcrum. You are the enemy, Roark. And we are coming for you. Not just Sarah and me, our whole team, including my dad."

Roark sat thinking hard for a few moments. This was quite the shock to his system. Truth be told, he'd actually enjoy talking to Stephen after all this time. His friendship with the man had been real and, while he didn't feel guilty for his actions, he thought they could at least hang out again for a while. But, of course, he'd never say that to Carmichael, the son.

"You know, kid, you might actually be my biological son. I used to tap your mom all the time behind your dad's back. Your mom was a pretty hot piece of ass, let me tell you." Roark smirked at Chuck, a thoroughly obnoxious expression.

Chuck started to laugh. "Teddy..." He continued to laugh. "Teddy, the way I hear the story, if you were ever to touch my mother, she'd have cut off your balls with a rusty spoon and fed them to you. You're a fucking loser, dude. You better try again if you want to get a rise out of me."

Roark's mind flashed back to that night. That night. Mary had always been smoking hot and he'd been flirting with her ever since he had met her. Sidling up to be physically near whenever he could. Smiles and compliments. He'd never gotten anywhere with her. Total stonewall. Didn't stop him, though. All women were, eventually, going to fall for his charm and charisma he knew.

But that particular night he'd caught Mary in the tiny kitchen of her and Stephen's apartment, bent over to load the dishwasher. Stephen was just a dozen feet away in the living room. The music was playing. They'd had more than one bottle of cheap wine and several joints. Stephen had been in the middle of explaining a brilliant technological innovation, if only the laws of physics could be ignored or changed.

Roark had come up behind Mary and, pretending to be dancing, and began to rub his crotch against her ass. At first she smiled and rubbed back, but then Stephen had said something from the other room and she realized it was Roark and not Stephen pressing himself against her. Her reaction was immediate and terrifying. She spun and jammed a hard forearm into his throat, pushing him back into the wall. As he slammed against the wall he found that a kitchen knife was in her other hand and was pressed against one of his eyelids with the sharp point. She hissed to him that if he ever touched her again, she was going to take an eye. Her voice was as hard as iron. She told him to be thankful that he was her husband's friend or she'd start immediately. He'd believed her. The look in her eyes made him think she would do it without a second thought, almost as if maiming someone was something she'd done twice a day for years. He was so frightened that he'd urinated in his pants right there in the kitchen. He made his apologies to Stephen and fled to his own small apartment. They never mentioned it again and he never even thought about touching her from that day forward.

It was the single most humiliating moment of his life. Even thinking of it made his blood run cold. And now Stephen's son was laughing at him and reminding him of that time. Roark's strategic objectivity deserted him and he was filled with anger and resentment at this pissant Carmichael.

"Burt, I think this conversation is over. Please kill them," said Roark.

Burt began to move, swinging his right hand off the table to the holstered weapon at his waist. Walker moved faster. Backhanded, with her left hand, she jammed a chopstick into Burt's eye, through the eye and all the way through his brain. Barely an inch of the stick remained visible as the far end had impacted on the inside of the back of Burt's skull. Burt fell off his chair and his body began to twitch as it was no longer receiving instructions from his dying brain.

Walker looked at Roark calmly without expression. As did Carmichael. These psychopaths were stone fucking cold and it horrified him. Unconsciously he pushed his chair back away from them, his face pale with shock.

"Never seen anyone killed before, huh, Teddy?" asked Walker, stonefaced. "Happy to have popped your cherry, Asshole."

"You...you...you people are monsters," he finally managed to squeak out. He felt sick.

Walker stood up and looked at him seriously with ice cold blue eyes. "You have no idea. Let's just put it all out on the table, Roark. You're not afraid of us and we're not afraid of you." The beautiful woman with the terrifying blue eyes paused. "One of us is wrong."

While Roark was still staggered by the events of the last few moments, Carmichael stood up and dropped a card on the table. "Call us when you want to make a deal, Roark."

Carmichael and Walker left the room, leaving Roark with Burt's body, still twitching a bit. He looked at it with revulsion and, for the first time in decades, he felt actual physical fear. With a moment's consideration, he picked up Carmichael's card from the table.

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A/N3: Now this fun again. A chopstick. Heh, heh, heh. Here's my vision of New Day. Chuck is always the smartest person in the room. Always. Sarah is always the most dangerous person in the room. Always. As Jorge told Honey Woodcomb in the last chapter, putting them together makes ten times the effect of them separately. The plan was to poke Roark. I'm thinking this was a pretty effective poke. But, I'm also thinking this isn't the end for Teddy and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day (to crib from the title of a famous children's book).

A/N4: Speaking of cribbing, I took Sarah's last declaration to Roark from a Spenser book by Robert B. Parker. Classic.

A/N5: Please let me know your thoughts. It's what makes this fun. Oh, and if you are on Facebook, look for the Chuck Fan Fiction page. A bunch of us hang out there sometimes.