Langley — Secure CIA Facility
Red lights.
Alarms.
Chaos.
Bryce Larkin ran.
Boots hammering steel.
Gun up.
Breathing controlled—but tight.
Shouts echoed behind him.
Guards closing in.
He didn't slow.
Didn't hesitate.
Didn't look back.
One guard turned the corner—
Bryce moved first.
Two shots.
Clean.
Another lunged—
Bryce dropped him with a brutal strike, pivoting straight into the reinforced chamber door.
The Intersect room.
He slammed the keycard—
door opened—
and Bryce stepped inside.
The Truth
The mainframe hummed.
Silent.
Still.
Bryce rushed to the console.
Inserted the drive.
Pulled up the system—
…and froze.
Empty.
"No… no, no—"
His fingers flew across the keyboard.
Directories.
Backups.
Hidden partitions.
Nothing.
The Intersect—
gone.
Stripped.
Clean.
The alarms got louder.
Closer.
Bryce stepped back slowly.
Understanding dawning.
Someone already took it.
He snapped open his laptop.
Launched a secure transmission.
"If anyone can handle this…"
A beat.
A name typed in with certainty.
Charles Irving Bartowski
He hit send.
But there was nothing left to send.
Bryce didn't know that.
Burbank — Carmichael Industries
Morning light spilled across glass walls.
Inside—
order.
Movement.
Routine.
Analysts debated models.
Printers hummed.
And somewhere outside—
Jeffster was absolutely ruining parking again.
From his office—
Chuck Bartowski watched it all.
Calm.
In control.
To the world—
Charles Carmichael.
Director.
Problem solver.
To Ellie—
just Chuck.
To the CIA?
The Intersect.
Casey Enters
The door opened without a knock.
"Bartowski."
Chuck didn't even look up at first.
"Let me guess. Jeff and Lester declared war on the parking lot again?"
Casey didn't bite.
"Worse."
Chuck looked up.
"Langley's sending backup."
A pause.
Chuck frowned.
"I already have you."
Casey's expression didn't change.
"Exactly."
A beat.
"They think you still need a babysitter."
Echo Park — Lounge
Low light.
Amber glow.
Soft music.
Chuck adjusted his cufflinks.
Carmichael sliding into place.
Casey watched the entrance.
Silent.
Still.
Then—
she walked in.
The room shifted.
Sarah Walker didn't just enter—
she arrived.
Red dress.
Measured steps.
Every movement controlled.
She slid into the booth across from him.
"Mr. Carmichael."
Chuck met her gaze.
A faint smirk.
"Agent Walker."
A beat.
"Long time since the CAT Squad disaster."
Her lips curved slightly.
"Beckman's orders."
A pause.
"I'm your new partner."
Chuck leaned back.
Already knowing where this was going.
"Cover?"
"Flexible," she said.
"Consultant…"
A beat.
"…or girlfriend."
That landed.
Chuck raised an eyebrow.
"I already have a girlfriend."
Sarah didn't blink.
"Then she's not part of this."
A beat.
"To the world—I am."
Across the room—
Casey muttered into comms.
"Told you. Complications."
Briefing — Carmichael Industries
Beckman filled the screen.
Cold.
Precise.
"Bartowski. Walker is now assigned to Carmichael Industries."
"Cover: Senior Consultant."
Chuck leaned back slightly.
"And Casey?"
"Tactical support remains unchanged."
A beat.
"Tonight—priority operation."
"Bomb threat. Downtown gala."
Simple.
On paper.
Chuck's phone buzzed.
Stephanie:Good luck at your "conference." Dinner tomorrow?
He stared at the screen for half a second too long.
Then smiled.
"Simple enough."
The Gala
Crystal.
Champagne.
Lies.
Chuck moved through it effortlessly.
Carmichael in full effect.
Sarah appeared beside him—
hand slipping into his like it belonged there.
"Smile," she murmured.
"People are watching."
Chuck didn't look at her.
"Stephanie's going to love this cover story."
"Good," Sarah said.
"She shouldn't."
They moved together.
Seamless.
Then—
"Target. Three o'clock."
A courier.
Black case.
Wrong energy.
Everything accelerated.
Chaos
Casey hit first.
A wrecking ball in a tux.
Sarah flowed through guards—
precise.
Lethal.
Chuck ran.
Following instinct.
Following flashes.
Down—
into—
Parking Garage
The case hit the ground.
3:00… 2:59…
Chuck dropped to his knees.
Laptop out.
Hands moving—
Flash.
Schematics.
Failures.
Solutions—
Then—
"Irene Demova."
Chuck blinked.
"…You've got to be kidding me."
Sarah dropped beside him.
"What do you see?"
Chuck grimaced.
"A virus."
A beat.
"Designed to crash detonators by overloading them with…"
He hesitated.
"…graphic material."
Sarah stared.
"You're going to stop a bomb with porn."
Chuck plugged in.
"You got a better idea?"
Casey's voice cut in—
"Two minutes!"
Chuck typed.
Fast.
Precise.
The screen exploded.
Pop-ups.
Video streams.
System overload.
The bomb sparked—
glitched—
00:01
Frozen.
Dead.
Silence.
Chuck leaned back.
Breathing hard.
"…See?"
A weak grin.
"Easy."
Sarah looked at him—
really looked.
"You just defused a bomb with porn."
Casey holstered his weapon.
"If anyone asks—I did it."
Debrief
Beckman again.
Unmoved.
"Good work."
A beat.
"Agent Walker is now permanently assigned."
Chuck nodded slowly.
Sarah glanced at him.
Small smile.
"Looks like you're stuck with me, Carmichael."
Casey grunted.
"This is going to be hell."
Final Thought
Chuck adjusted his tie.
Leaned back.
Two identities.
Two partners.
One life getting more complicated by the second.
And somewhere between it all—
He smiled.
"Complicated…"
A beat.
"…is what I do best."