Hi! This is my first story so try to be nice. Having said that, constructive criticism is happily accepted.

I hope that I don't have to do any explaining and that the story should have everything in it but I'll explain at the beginning of the next chapter if people don't know what is going on.

I do not own Chuck :(

-ooo-

Charles Carmichael grimaced as he hauled the remaining agent into the van. He may have been a fully trained operative but NSA agents were always big, heavy guys.

"Status?" the comn in his ear said.

"I have taken out the perimeter guards so getting in wont be a problem. Has our friend said anything more?" The word friend was said with an ironic, wry smile. It was the kind of smile that accompanied a joke in bad taste.

"I'm afraid not."

Carmichael was on the move now. He had locked the van and was making his way swiftly back into the hotel. Dressed as a waiter, he walked passed hotel workers without anyone batting an eyelid, making his way towards the conference room.

-ooo-

Sarah Walker rarely swore. Swearing indicated anger or surprise and either way, it meant you were not in control. Unfortunately she wasn't in control so she simply uttered the word 'shit' under her breath. She was staring at a pile of dead bodies, lying haphazardly in the back of a black van. She had spotted the black van as soon as she entered the backstreet. Everyone knew that if you wanted to appear inconspicuous you used a black van so whenever she saw one she was instantly wary of it. Her suspicions proved correct. She had picked the lock into the van and seen the NSA agents piled up. She wasted no time and she closed up the van and dashed into the hotel.

-ooo-

"Carmichael," said the voice in his ear, "what is your location?"

Charles paused briefly, wondering why he had been asked the question. He knew that they had a tracker on him and he was perfectly aware that it was accurate down to one meter.

"I'm in the eastern hallway, about ten meters from the security room. Why do you ask?"

"Somebody just opened the door to the van."

"Tell me it was the front door," Charles replied, hoping it was a carjacker and not an agent. He had stopped walking now – he didn't want to fight two NSA agents while worry about his van.

"Sorry Charles, it was the backdoor. She must have found you."

"Just what I need."

"Be careful, Sarah Walker isn't one to be trifled with."

"We can't back down now, we are so close."

"Its your call," the voice said, although it clearly didn't approve.

Carmichael walked the remaining paces to the security center, slipped in his stolen ID card and opened the door. The two guards were slow to react and Charles got off two shots before they had a chance to get theirs out of their holsters. The men were slumped in their chairs, tranquilizer darts in their necks before the door had closed.

"I'm routing the footage to you," Charles said, "get analyzing."

-ooo-

Sarah Walker moved quickly down the hall. She knew exactly where Carmichael would go; he was a methodical man and method dictated that he prevented any CCTV footage getting into the hands of the CIA. He would go to security first and then he would assassinate his target. Sarah had memorized the layout of the building on the way here and knew she was barely meters from the security room. She pulled her gun out from its holster and approached the door. She counted down under her breath and burst into the room. It was empty.

"I would keep very still, if I were you," said someone standing right behind her.

"Charles Carmichael, I presume," was Walker's icy reply.

"Hi Sarah," Charles replied. He obviously knew calling her by her first name would irritate her, "drop it." He meant the gun.

She dropped her pistol and started to turn round.

"I said to keep very still remember," said the voice.

"What? I don't get to see the face of the man who is about to kill me?" she said bitterly. Sarah didn't like losing and somehow Carmichael had beaten her.

"I know you don't know my face, I'd like to keep it that way."

"So what now?" she asked, slowing pulling out a knife from a hidden pocket in the cuff of her sleeve. Did that mean Carmichael didn't plan on killing her? She didn't wait for his reply and she spun, preparing to throw the knife at the terrorist.

There was no one there. That was the second time he had done that to her. Her eyes quickly found a mic and a speaker taped to the wall behind her. She had to admit, Sarah was impressed; he had fooled her into staying still for several minutes while he made his escape. No, he wouldn't escape now; he always finished his mission.

"You may have stalled me Charles," she spoke into the microphone, "but I'm still going to catch you."

Charles Carmichael made no reply.

-ooo-

"Tell me you've found what we're looking for because Agent Walker is going to cut you off any minute now," Carmichael said into his watch.

"Yes, it's right in the middle of the room and its hidden under a cloche."

"Oh great," Carmichael groaned. There wasn't exactly a subtle way of reaching the middle of the room.

He had reached the main doors that allowed entry into the convention room. He looked around and found what he was looking for - there was a heat sensor on the wall. He pulled a box of matches out of his pocket and lit several. He left the matches on the sensor and strode in the room, opening the double doors with a crash as he did. Everything went deadly quiet – the man on the podium stopped speaking and everyone turned to face the intruder. Several guards all started making their way towards Charles.

"You are not authorized to enter this room," one of them started as two of the five guards reached him. Charles smiled and – as if on cue – the fire alarm and the sprinklers went off. The room burst into commotion; the audience members panicked and started fleeing towards the exits. It was exactly the distraction Carmichael needed and he was already on the move. His two tranq guns were already out and he shot the two nearest guards. Several seconds later he had taken out another. Then the next one was down. It was just as he had tranqed the last NSA agent when he felt the fist connect with his face. Charles Carmichael was sent reeling by the powerful punch. He recovered swiftly and fell into a defensive stance. He was facing the NSA agent who had spoken to him, the one he had shot first. A part of Charles was impressed at the man's resistance to the drug but right now that wasn't important. The agent, a man named Casey according to his badge, lunged forward. He wasn't fast, probably due to being shot with a tranquilizer gun, but his fist was like a freight train. Charles blocked the punch with his arm but it still knocked him back. The agent came round for another punch, this time with his left hand, but Charles was ready. He dodged the attack and roundhouse kicked the agent in the head. He felt his foot connect with bone and Casey's nose cracked. Casey was knocked back by the kick, which Charles followed up with a second, more powerful kick to the chest. The agent landed on his back and didn't get up again. Charles grimaced – he much preferred knocking people out with tranquilizers than breaking their bones – and dashed over the only place the target could be. Just as he reached the small trolley, he heard a click from behind. Charles stopped.

"Wise move Carmichael," said Sarah Walker.

"Shit," Charles muttered under his breath.

"Turn around," she ordered.

He did so. If Carmichael didn't have such good control over his facial expression he would have been gaping. Sarah Walker was gorgeous. Sure, he had seen pictures of her when he read her file but those were ID photos, not exactly the best shots.

"Not what you were expecting, Agent Walker?" Charles asked as he looked at the expression on her face.

"You walked past me in the corridor."

"I won't get away with that one again will I?"

"No, since you'll be in a CIA blackspot for the rest of your life."

"Oh, come on," Charles said, sounding exasperated, "You honestly think I've done those things the file says I have done?"

"You've killed a lot of people today," Sarah retorted.

"What? No I didn't. I have knocked a lot of people unconscious with tranq guns and ruined a lot of peoples' holidays by setting off the fire alarm in their hotel but I haven't killed anyone."

Sarah Walkers eyes narrowed. Charles had deliberately mentioned the fire alarm, hoping she would spot the flaw in his plan.

"Why did you set the fire alarm off?"

"I know, right! It doesn't make any sense does it? Why would the assassin cause the target to run away?"

Sarah had a sinking feeling that Charles Carmichael was only a decoy.

"I'm not here to kill anyone, Sarah. I'm here to save people."

His eyes were pleading, asking Sarah to see the truth in his words.

"Prove it." Sarah was still suspicious of him but something about him made her want to trust him.

"There is bomb," replied Charles calmly, "I have to deactivate it."

"Where? I'll call in the bomb squad while you're taking in for questioning. If you're as innocent as you say…"

"There's no time, we have seconds left."

"Where is it?"

Charles nodded towards the trolley.

"You can deactivate it?"

"I hope so."

"Do it."

Charles turned to the trolley and pulled off the cloche.

"Oh boy!" said Charles, staring at the laptop that had just opened in front of him. The background showed a count down timer, I showed that they had 20 seconds left.

"Can you deactivate it?" Sarah asked again, panic sounding in her voice.

"I don't know," replied Charles, "I mean, I was expecting red and green wires, not a laptop screen. I haven't got a –" He stopped mid sentence "- I have an idea." He started typing.

"Mr. Bomb, meet Mr. Internet," Charles said as he pulled up the dos over-ride. The browser came up and opened a search page. It seemed to take forever for the page to load. It finally did and Charles typed in the critical words 'Irene Demova." He hit the search button and clicked on the link to the porn website. Sarah gave him an incredulous look as images of the porn star sprung up across the screen. The seconds continued to count down as nothing else happened, going from 5 to 4 and then from 4 to 3. The 3 became a 2, which became a 1.

Then the screen went blank. Nothing happened for a moment as the laptop fizzled and sparked and then the two of them let out the breaths they hadn't realized they had been holding.

"That was really close," said Charles as he stood up straight. Neither of them saw as Colonel Casey leaned over, picked up his pistol and, with a shaking up aimed at Charles Carmichael.

"No!" Sarah screamed at the last minute as she realized what was about to happen but there was nothing she could do to stop it. The bullet tore through Carmichael's chest and he collapsed to the floor, a pool of blood around his body.

-ooo-

"Chuck? Chuck? What happened? I heard a gunshot. Chuck?" said the voice in his ear, the voice of his sister, Eleanor Faye Bartowski.