A/N I promise I haven't given this story up. I got busy with work and had a scene in the chapter after this that I really didn't like that I couldn't figure out how to resolve it differently. I think I've sorted it out and am happier with it now though.
I got a question about when this story is set. It's meant to be in the same timeframe as the TV show, but obviously the writing I'm going for is more of a gritty noir 20s/30s detective mystery style. So really I'd say just let it be set whenever you want. I know I gave a specific model of car that Chuck drives, but don't let that hold you back from reading this how you want.
o-o-o-o-o
Chuck woke the next morning, his stomach churning. The stink of garbage in the alley wafted in through his open window, disagreeing with the leftover flavor of whiskey on his tongue from the night before. The stitches on his cheek snagged against the pillowcase, sending a searing jolt of pain that jerked him fully awake. He winced, cursing under his breath, the sharp reminder of yesterday's job settling like lead in his gut.
Throwing off the cheap sheets on his bed, he blearily blinked through the morning sunlight as he got up. Shuffling to the bathroom to brush his teeth, his thoughts ran through the discussion at the Ice Queen's Lair the night before. No one had ever said anything about Sarah Walker having a sense of humor. Was that real, or just another mask? He wasn't sure which answer scared him more.
For the last five years, he'd avoided working for the Syndicate, never wanting to get tangled in the web that took his parents' lives. But Sarah Walker's offer last night… it wasn't just tempting, it was his opportunity to keep Carina safe. Carina was tough, a lot tougher than Chuck himself that was for damn sure, but seeing that burnt-out car, riddled with bullets, had shaken him in a way he wasn't ready to admit. If something happened to her because he wasn't there, he'd never forgive himself.
But with that decision, he had tied himself to Jack Burton. It might be indirect through one of his lieutenants, but Jack was one of Chuck's top three suspects in the death of his parents. Chuck was relatively certain it hadn't been the Larkins, Bryce appeared genuinely surprised when he came to collect the monthly payment. He didn't know what motivation Jack or Shaw would have had. The murders were so clean, so clinical, and the bodies dumped so openly that it had to be organized by one of them.
As he spat out the toothpaste, his mouth finally clear, he knew this might give him a chance he didn't have before now, to investigate more directly into Jack Burton. If Jack had been the one to organize the hit on Chuck's parents though, it would put a target on Chuck's back even being close to Jack.
But investigating Jack on its own would draw attention. It's not like he could just ask Sarah whether her boss had arranged the hit. And if Sarah caught him poking around Jack's past too much, she'd be duty bound to put a bullet in his head. He also wouldn't risk Carina on this, she'd willingly help if he asked, but putting her in harm's way would directly go against the reason he took this job in the first place. He would have to limit his investigation to opportunity.
He ate a quick breakfast of cereal, today was his first day working for Sarah and he didn't want to start off on a bad foot with her. Sarah Walker was dangerous, not just because of her reputation as the Ice Queen, but because Chuck couldn't quite read her. She was smart, smarter than anyone he'd ever worked with, and her intensity had rattled him. But there was an undercurrent of humor in the way she interacted with him that had surprised him.
She was a singular force and it made him wonder why she was tied to Jack, and not the head of her own part of the Syndicate. The word was she was next in line to take over after Jack, but if Sarah started her own, Chuck had no doubt she'd be a force to be reckoned with.
Chuck was fiddling with his figurines, rearranging them from the haphazard chaos that Carina always left them in when his new burner phone buzzed on his nightstand. A text coming from Carina popped up. 'Walker called – meet at 1PM, parking garage on 14th and Main'.
Somehow, he had the morning free. His eyes drifted to the stack of game consoles by his TV. He'd get an hour in before needing to leave, one last piece of normalcy before everything went to hell.
o-o-o-o-o
Chuck stuffed a half assembled sandwich into his mouth, yanking his shirt over his head as he bolted for the door. He could make it to the parking garage on time, but he'd need to cut down some side streets and take a couple of shortcuts. His feet hammered on the metal grating of his stairs as he pounded down the steps to his car, the engine rumbling loudly as he put it in gear and exited his shop.
He was in such a rush he barely noticed the Crown Victoria from the night before was now parked on the opposite side of the road. He did notice it when it pulled out immediately after his exit, beginning to tail him, leaving a gap of thirty feet. The space might have been enough on a busy street, but in this industrial district he could see John Casey's face plain as day.
Chuck's mind raced. Why was Casey following him? Had he been caught on camera at the bank job? His pulse quickened, but no sirens blared. No backup was present, no immediate threat could be seen. Just Casey, keeping his distance.
It didn't add up. If Casey had anything concrete on him, there'd be lights, then a badge and a gun shoved in his face. So what was this? Some kind of test? A warning?
As much as he might want answers, now was a very bad time to have a tail. He couldn't do his normal evasion techniques, Casey knew where he lived so losing him in a high speed chase would just put officers at his shop.
He pressed down the gas pedal, pushing just above the speed limit, nothing reckless, but enough to test Casey's motivations. He rolled a couple stop signs deliberately, checking the rearview mirror. The Crown Vic followed, steady in its pursuit. No sirens, no lights.
A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. A slow-speed chase? Weird, but he could handle it. His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror as he eased off the gas and blended into the flow of traffic on a main thoroughfare. Casey followed behind, maintaining the distance. He signaled a right turn, giving Casey lots of warning as he merged into a lane filled with delivery trucks and taxis.
The construction up ahead would provide the perfect cover where the lanes merged. The traffic crawled along, and Chuck edged his car right, a subtle move, but just enough to break Casey's line of sight. The key was patience, too fast and it'd be obvious, too slow and it wouldn't give him the edge he needed.
As the traffic squished together for the merge, he turned down the side street on his right. The box truck moved in behind him and Chuck could see the trunk of Casey's Crown Vic roll up, the rest of the car obscured by the truck.
He smirked as he nudged the gas a little, travelling just slightly too quickly down the alley. Behind him, he could see the traffic bottleneck as Casey was suddenly trying to pull down the same alleyway across traffic. He could just see the grill of the Crown Vic as he pulled onto the next street.
He gave a little more gas as he merged onto the next street, Casey's Crown Vic vanishing from his rearview. Relief flickered through his chest as he released the breath he didn't realize he was holding. Casey wasn't the kind of guy who gave up. Chuck had shaken the tail, sure. But if Casey was interested in him, it was only a matter of time before they saw each other again.
o-o-o-o-o
The flickering lights sputtered in the parking garage, casting jagged shadows between the rows of parked cars. The thick scent of exhaust clung to the air, mixing with the faint sting of oil and rubber. The quiet murmurs of a few pedestrians echoed through the structure, adding to the uneasy stillness that followed Chuck as he searched for Carina and Sarah. The sounds of his engine reverberated through the structure, bouncing off the concrete pillars as he drove.
Chuck's shoulders eased as Sarah and Carina stepped from behind a pillar, but the relief soured fast. Sarah's gaze was sharp, assessing him against an invisible checklist. His stomach twisted under her scrutiny as he pulled the car to a stop.
Carina's welcoming smile was clear in her voice as she opened the door to the backseat behind him, ruffling his hair as she sat. "Good to see you, Curls." Chuck smiled into the rearview mirror at her as Sarah opened the passenger door to sit down beside him quietly.
"First National Bank. Twenty First street." Sarah's voice was clipped, as though she didn't want to explain.
Chuck's brow furrowed at her words. "I thought you said the job was infiltration and data extraction?"
She looked at him, irritation painted on her face. "Are you planning to question everything I say, or can you work like a professional?"
Chuck sighed as he started to drive again, heading towards the exit. "I'm not trying to question you. I can work better if I know what we're doing."
Sarah studied him, her lips pressing into a thin line. The silence stretched between them, thick with something unspoken. Chuck kept his focus on the road, but he could feel the weight of her gaze. Finally, Carina sighed, breaking the tension.
"Just tell him, Blondie, you're going to have to soon enough." She said, exasperation in her tone.
Sarah huffed. "Four nights ago, there was a break-in at an FBI storage facility. The only thing taken was a set of blueprints for a CIA substation. The blueprints are currently stored in a lockbox at that bank."
Chuck's thoughts tripped over each other. CIA Substation. Blueprints. This wasn't a simple data job, it was a full blown heist on a government target. His fingers tightened on the wheel, his heartbeat drumming in his ears. "So the night you showed up at my garage…"
Sarah glanced out her window at the buildings passing by. "We broke into the FBI storage facility."
"Well I guess that explains the feds." He shook his head, looking at Carina in the mirror as she avoided his gaze.
Sarah's head sung towards him as her eyes narrowed sharply. "What feds?"
"One of the cops that was looking into the car chase mentioned feds." He answered, recalling his conversation with Casey. Sarah's sharp gaze pinned him in place. For a moment, he debated telling her about Casey, but something in her eyes stopped him. She was too focused, too intense. He wasn't sure where her loyalties lay, and right now, he couldn't afford to give away everything.
"Hmm… well I guess it's not too surprising there are feds getting involved." She mused. "It was only a matter of time on this contract."
As they pulled into a parking spot near the bank, Chuck hesitated. "If this whole job is infiltration and data extraction, why were you in a deadly car chase with Shaw's crew the night you stole the blueprints?"
"It's an open contract." Sarah responded, her voice dropping lower. "Every major syndicate wants a piece of it. Shaw's crew was just the start, there are others all racing for the same prize. With the blueprints, we're ahead, but it's still anyone's game."
Chuck's eyebrows rose as she spoke. An open contract to break into a CIA substation… The rate must be astronomical. "So… you said my cut would be five percent... how much is that?"
Sarah cocked her head to the side as she looked at him, a small smile playing at her lips. "If we succeed, your cut would be five hundred thousand."
Chuck's fingers tensed around the steering wheel as her words hit him. Half a million. More money than he'd seen in his entire life. Enough to wipe out his entire debt to the Larkins. One job, and he'd be free. The thought buzzed in his head, drowning out the rumble of the engine.
As Sarah stepped out, Carina leaned forward from the backseat, her breath warm against his ear. "Close your mouth Curls, you're a pro now, remember?" She winked in the mirror before slipping out of the car. Chuck barely registered it, his mind was still spinning as the doors shut, leaving him alone with the weight of the job.
o-o-o-o-o
Chuck was engrossed in his thoughts, turning over what would be needed to do a fast getaway after breaking into a federal building. Depending on how Sarah wanted to run the job, it could be a quiet getaway. After seeing the scene from their car chase the night they met, he was certain she wasn't opposed to the loud getaway. It would be a risk they'd have to work through with the plan to get the data out of the building.
Through the glass doors of the bank, he spotted Sarah and Carina exiting from the back, and he brought his focus back to the moment, feeling the rumble of his car as he started the engine. As he did a scan of the street, the hair on the back of his neck stood up. It felt like a moment when the crew took too long and the cops were already barreling down the street, but everything was calm, quiet.
The hum of the engine faded into the background as Chuck scanned the street. The streets were busy, just entering the start of rush hour in the late afternoon. The sidewalk traffic was starting to change from people running errands to people leaving early from work.
His stomach tightened. A black SUV three spots back still had its indicator on, but wasn't making a move to enter the street. The man in sunglasses leaning against the wall near the bank entrance… it was too overcast for shades. Sarah and Carina were laughing as they neared the doors, and the man in shades started to move as the SUV suddenly pulled out.
He didn't wait for confirmation. He slammed the car into gear, lurching into traffic.
Sarah and Carina exited right as his car screeched to a stop in front of the bank. Chuck opened the passenger door as he shouted. "Get in!"
The two women were alarmed by his sudden appearance. With a quick scan, they both identified men in suits and shades closing in suddenly from both sides. The numbers weren't favorable, and without their guns, they were at a significant disadvantage. They scrambled to the door and both jumping into the passenger seat before shutting the door.
Feet pounded on pavement behind them as Chuck wove into the traffic.
"Who the fuck are these guys?" Carina yelled as she tried to reach over the center console for her gun. "You said this drop was safe, Blondie!"
Sarah was cursing her own storm as she pulled her gun out of the glove compartment. "It was! Someone must have sold us out!"
Chuck's hands tightened on the wheel as the large black SUVs roared into position behind them in his rearview mirror. His pulse quickened. As he scanned their location and the traffic, he knew he could do this.
The SUV lined up to do a pit maneuver as Chuck gunned the gas. "Hang on!" He shouted, yanking the wheel to the right. The car swerved, the tires skidding on the slick pavement. The boulevard was busy as he zigzagged between cars, using every gap in the traffic to his advantage.
Sarah found her gun and chambered a round as Carina made her way into the back seat. "You ready, Red?" She shouted, a look of determination on her face.
"Every time, Blondie! Curls, slow down! Let them close in on us!" Carina shouted back.
Another tight turn jammed him against the doorframe as Chuck felt apprehension grow inside him. "No! There are way too many bystanders! I can outrun them!" He shouted back.
Sarah looked at him with a mix of confusion and astonishment. "Chuck, it's rush hour and it's only one of them!"
Chuck's knuckles whitened on the wheel as he ran a very late red light, threading the gap as opposing traffic started to cross in front of him. "Exactly, I got this." He said, his voice bolstered by his years as a getaway driver.
The tires screamed as he cut into a narrow alleyway, a rush of air rumbling around them as he nearly collided with a dumpster. A horn blared as he skidded around a truck, the driver waving at him angrily as they narrowly avoided a crash. Behind him, the SUV struggled, the bulk slowing them down as Chuck weaved through the narrow space.
As the car launched from the alley, he saw a construction site nearby that could offer cover. Dust and debris flew into the air as he burst through the flimsy barrier. The SUV hesitated for a moment before following, the tires kicking up clouds of dust.
As they wove through the heavy machinery and piles of materials, Chuck saw a crane lowering a large beam to the ground. He gunned the accelerator as the SUV closed in, a man leaning out the passenger window with a submachine gun, a quick burst of gunfire sailing wide as the driver swerved through the site. The beam was close to the ground, just barely clearance for his car. Straightening out the wheels, he shot for the gap under the beam, feeling a rush of air hitting the car as they narrowly passed under the beam.
The SUV collided with the beam, the windshield caving underneath it as the momentum of the vehicle lurched the front into the air. The beam swung chaotically as workers closed in on the sudden accident, the SUV sputtering as it listed to a stop.
Chuck grinned, his breath still coming fast, as they exited the construction site. "We made it."
Sarah's eyes flicked to him, a hint of surprise in her expression. She said nothing, but Chuck could feel her reassessing him, her sharp gaze lingering a second too long. Carina leaned forward, laughing as she slapped his shoulder. "See? Told you he was good."
He felt the pride swell in his chest, but there was something else, something he couldn't quite name. That feeling settled in the pit of his stomach as he felt the weight of Sarah's watchful eyes on him.
o-o-o-o-o
Casey sat at his desk, replaying the tail on Chuck from that morning. The kid had driven aggressively, but not recklessly. If Casey wanted to, he could have pulled him over for a ticket. But then out of nowhere, a small gap had opened to separate them, and Chuck was gone. It was so smooth it almost felt intentional, but why would Bartowski run? And if the kid's actions had been intentional, he had executed so seamlessly, Casey hadn't even noticed until it was over.
The federal agent was pissed off when Casey reported he lost Bartowski this morning, but he apparently decided to call off the tail last night, just hadn't informed Casey yet.
Casey was back to working through Jack Burton's finances, trying to find the key that would show him what separated his legal businesses from his illegal finances, when the federal agent approached him.
"Sergeant Casey?" The agent's voice was timid today, a desperate plea instead of the smug arrogance of only twenty four hours ago.
Casey looked up from the scattering of paperwork. The kid looked rough. Dark circles hung under his eyes, his once pristine suit was now wrinkled and slept-in, and his too long hair stuck out like he'd been yanking at it all night. Casey almost felt bad for him.
"What do you want now?" He asked, his temper rising at seeing the kid's face so soon.
The kid carded his hand through his hair, a look of desperation on his face. "Your captain says you're the best on his squad when it comes to organized crime in LA… we need your help." Casey smirked at him, waiting patiently. "Please."
Casey grunted at the man. "Funny. Yesterday, you were too good for local law enforcement to actually look at your case. Now you're all 'please' and 'we need your help.' What changed?"
The agent swallowed hard, his eyes avoiding Casey's gaze. "Like I said before, this is a matter of national security."
"And that wasn't true yesterday?" Casey's eyes narrowed. As much as he wanted to make the man beg, he knew he'd be helping. "Let's go see what you have."
In the briefing room, one of the walls was taken up entirely by mug shots and surveillance photos of people that Casey recognized. It was in a haphazard array that didn't appear to follow the structures of the organizations.
The agent gestured at the wall. "As you can probably tell, we're having a little difficulty nailing down the hierarchy."
Casey frowned at the disarray on the wall. Whoever had put this mess together didn't understand a damn thing about how the Syndicate was structured. Without a word, he stepped forward, yanking pins out of the photos and reordering them. "So, together they're all known as the Syndicate, but there are three distinct groups." He sorted four pictures of dark haired men into a group. "These are the Larkins. Four brothers from Connecticut. Lance and Paul run the drug trade. Bryce runs money lending, and Terrence runs the prostitution ring."
He sorted another set of pictures into a pyramid, Jack Burton at the top. "This is Jack Burton and his crew. They run any smuggling through the port, gambling dens, and most of the money laundering in the city. His second in command is Sarah Walker, she runs a lot of his jobs, but the organization is officially run by his four lieutenants that has split the city into sectors. You ask me, you take Sarah Walker away from Burton, and he's probably nothing but a two bit con artist. She's the real brains of the outfit and everyone knows it."
He took the two pictures of the Shaws, the ones he hated the most in the whole city. "And these are the Shaws. Their background checks came back heavily redacted, so most of us think they're rogue spooks." Casey breathed heavily through his nose as he looked at the sparse set of files in front of him. "I thought you'd have a bit more on them, but this is just their local connections. They have a loose network of international hitmen and paramilitary organizations."
Casey paused as the agent shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. "We were directed to focus on the local networks."
Casey's eyes narrowed. If Shaw's past was government, they were probably embarrassed by the connection. When it's a matter of national security though, it wasn't the time to worry about being embarrassed. "It would be good to get a clearer picture of his background. His international connections could be important." The agent nodded, but Casey could tell he wasn't getting through to him.
As Casey moved the photos around, the agent watched intently, his fingers twitching with his pen. "We were a bit off." He finally admitted. "Getting a clear hierarchy on these guys has been like chasing shadows." He hesitated before adding, "The Shaws were CIA. You're right about that. Rogue for years now." It was a bit of a shock to Casey to hear him admit it, but the man didn't seem ready to share much more about their network. "We tried to get an agent close to Burton years back, but their cover must have been blown. Do you have any informants close to any of the Larkin brothers, or in Burton's crew, maybe even close to Walker?"
"Larkins, plenty. Jack, a couple. Walker… none." Casey answered. "The Larkins have a big network, they're always in need of pushers, pimps, hookers, loan sharks, and muscle. Jack Burton has a tight crew but it's pretty well known that he hires from the guys at the docks. Walker's another story. She doesn't trust easy, and she's got a sixth sense for sniffing out moles. She vets everyone herself, and works with maybe two or three people tops. Getting close to her is damn near impossible."
The agent's frown deepened as Casey spoke. "The facility that was broken into before we arrived was an FBI warehouse. Right now, we can't figure out for sure what was taken, but the image stills show that the thieves left with a poster tube, so we figure it was some kind of documentation. It's a matter of national security that we retrieve whatever was stolen."
Casey's eyebrows rose at the news. The car chase had been the priority of the investigation due to the homicides before the feds took it over. "If it was a heist from a government facility, sounds to me like it was a job for a former spook." He posited.
The agent sighed heavily. "Exactly what we thought, except the men that died were connected to Shaw, so whoever they were chasing was from one of the other groups. Sergeant Casey, can I ask you for your help on this?"
Casey felt a swell of pride at being asked to assist with a matter of national security, even by a young agent like this one. "I can talk to my informants and see if anyone knows anything. If you could get us a better picture of Shaw's international connections, we can narrow down if any of them are in town for this."
The agent didn't meet his eyes as he responded. "Of course, I'll get in touch with Langley for a full dossier on him. You focus on Walker and Burton in the meantime."
Casey could feel the lie in the air. He'd have to look into Shaw's connections himself.
The man reached out his hand, appearing to offer a new start to their working relationship. "Thank you, John."
Casey took the agent's hand in a firm grip. "Alright, Sullivan. Let's get to work." The weight of national security pressed down on him, but this was the kind of pressure Casey thrived under. This was serious, and Casey knew he could be the difference.