Author's Note: I felt like getting silly. As a result, I have written a new chapter of Chuck vs. the Airsoft Gun – in a manner of speaking. What I've done here is combined the events of chapters 1&2 of Airsoft Gun with the AU that crosses over with Veronica Mars (Beautiful Letdown, Chuck In a Moment). Now, technically, the first two chapters of this story aren't in that continuity. However, it's a fun story to write. Also, Chuck and Sarah get a little frisky throughout, more so than is usually spelled out in my stories – but still, nothing that goes beyond an R rating. So… yeah. Enjoy!

It was the weekend after Valentine's Day. Chuck and Sarah had gotten back from their honeymoon on Wednesday.

Up until about five months before, Chuck would've dreaded coming back from a vacation – ever. But ever since September, when he had sold Disaster City to Rock Star Games and gotten ten million dollars in return, he had sort of made his own schedule at the Buy More.

Yeah, most weeks he still worked forty hours. He really needed something to do with his time too much to NOT go to work. But if he felt like taking a vacation, or going to Zuma Beach and hitting the waves with Logan Echolls, or just sleeping in – basically, all he had to do was tell Big Mike, and Big Mike was cool with that.

On Friday, Chuck was actually at the Nerd Herd desk at 8:00 A.M. Logan had torn up his arm the day before when he got completely owned by a wave, and the doctor had told him he wasn't allowed to go back in the salt water for at least two weeks. Well, neither Sarah nor Bryce surfed, Casey had been ordered not to do ANYTHING that could screw up his left knee any further, Veronica was off in San Diego – and Chuck would rather walk over broken glass than go surfing with Devin and get completely shown up.

For a Friday, it was really slow Just after noon, Sarah came by to visit him for lunch. For old times' sake, they went over to the Wienerlicious.

Scooter wasn't particularly happy to see them. "Oh, look, it's the freak and the agent who likes jumping from bridges!" he spat bitterly.

It turned out that the Wienerlicious was a CIA front. Scooter had been part of the Company for almost twenty years, and was going precisely nowhere. So, watching Sarah get off scot free with faking her death, and then watching Chuck become a multi-millionaire – he was a very bitter man.

They both ignored him, got corn dogs and fries, and sodas, and headed back outside. "Why are we eating Wienerlicious again?" Chuck asked. "I mean, I'm pretty sure I can afford Panda Express these days."

Sarah smiled. "Come on, this place is a huge part of our past, wouldn't you say?"

"Yeah, well, nonetheless."

Sarah just rolled her eyes and shook her head – and then froze. "Uh-oh, Morgan alert."

Chuck just laughed. "Just get used to it, Sarah. He's always going to think he's on equal footing with you."

"He's not, though."


Morgan came running up to the table. "Hey, you crazy kids, what's up?"

"Uh, my cholesterol levels after we're done here," Chuck replied. "And from the looks of things, your blood pressure."

"Yeah, well, I just had to come over and tell you," Morgan said, a little breathless. "Hobby World's got a new Airsoft model in."

Chuck's ears perked up, and he focused on Morgan. "Continue."

"Dude, it's a M249 that fires four hundred rounds per minute."

That part actually got Sarah's attention. "Really," she said. "How accurate is it?"

"Man, I was watching this YouTube video… they fired it for a minute – so, four hundred rounds, right? – and they managed to get two hundred seventy two of them in this one inch diameter tube."

Chuck looked at Sarah, and then at Morgan. "Morgan," he said, making his voice sound like the Brain, "are you pondering what I'm pondering?"

"I think so Chuck," Morgan replied in his Pinky voice, "but I'd rather eat the Macarena."

"YEAH!" Chuck shouted, holding up his hand for a high five. Morgan slapped it – hard.

"So, when we gonna do this thing?"

Chuck looked at Sarah. "No," she said. "I just want to see this gun in action. The last two 'Battles Royale' we've had, you've almost ended up maiming me both times."

Chuck stuck out his bottom lip and gave Sarah big puppy dog eyes. "Not gonna work," she said, looking away.

And they didn't. Chuck couldn't believe it. The puppy dog eyes had always worked before. "Well, that's aggravating," he muttered. Then he had a new plan. "Morgan, look away."


"I said, look away!"

"Chuck, why is Morgan looking away?" Sarah asked. Chuck didn't say anything – he just slid around next to Sarah. "Where is your hand goi – ooohhhhh…"

"What the hell are you two doing?!" Morgan exclaimed, covering his ears.

"Okay, tomorrow night sounds good," Sarah conceded weakly.

Chuck smiled. "That wasn't that hard, was it?"

"Bet something else is," Sarah shot back.

"Okay, the two of you are making me ill," Morgan groaned, turning back to face them.

"At LEAST you never caught us in the break room," Chuck replied.

That gave Morgan pause. "Hmmm," he mused, putting his hand to his chin. "Good point."

Then he cocked an eyebrow. "So, who are we inviting?"

"Oh, the usual suspects," Chuck replied. "The three of us, Ellie, Devin, Anna. But I think we ought to get Casey, Bryce, Veronica, and Logan in on the action. REALLY make it a Battle Royale."

Sarah looked at him strangely. "What did you have in mind for teams?" she asked. "That's not an even number of guys and girls. That's not even an even number of… you know."

Feds and non-feds? Chuck thought. But he didn't say anything.

"I'll figure something out," Morgan replied. "So… 10:00 PM, tomorrow, the Buy More?"

"Rockin'," Chuck said, giving Morgan a thumbs up.

Once Morgan had gone, Chuck's hand magically found its way back underneath Sarah's skirt. "Oookay, you have got to stop – ohhh, you really have to stop," she said, moans interspersed in her speech. "You can't get me alllll… ohhh, all wound up, and then go back to work."

Chuck rolled his eyes, pulled out his phone, and dialed. "Yeah, Big Mike? I gotta take the rest of the afternoon off. Yeah, wife's got an emergency that she needs me to take care of. Sorry. Alright, see you Monday."

"It's hardly an emergen – ohhhhh… okay, let's go."

Buy More e-mail message

DATE: Friday, February 19th, 2010

TIME: 3:46 P.M.

FROM: Morgan Grimes

TO: Chuck Bartowski, Sarah Bartowski, John Casey, Logan Echolls, Bryce Larkin, Veronica Mars, Devin Woodcomb, Ellie Woodcomb, Anna Wu

SUBJECT: Buy More Battle Royale 2/20

Okay, folks, so here's the deal. It's goin' down tomorrow night at the Buy More. Airsoft Battle Royale, capture-the-flag style, first one we've had in a couple of years. And you know you want to be there.

Pretty much anything goes. Laser sights, tactical radios, whatever weapons you want – as long as they're airsoft weapons. No BBs, no paintballs, and Casey, leave your 30.06 at home.

Now, something to keep in mind – the losing team has to clean up the Buy More. So keep that in mind when arming yourselves.

Otherwise, though, PREPARE FOR GLORY!


"Casey, are you seriously telling me you have an arsenal of NSA developed Airsoft weapons?"

"Bryce, we've got to have a plan for every possible contingency."

Bryce Larkin shook his head. "God help us if the taxpayers ever find out where their money's going."

"Well, you just found out."

"The IRS thinks I'm dead, remember? Kinda advantageous on April 15th."

Casey rolled his eyes. "Wow, such a great ethical code there, Larkin."

"Hey, why should I argue with the federal government?" Bryce smiled. "Now, let's see what you've got."

Chuck and Sarah were at Hobby World, looking in awe at the M249. "This is a thing of beauty," she said softly.

"And here I thought you were so attached to your 1911," Chuck said.

"Oh, don't get me wrong, the M1911 is a FANTASTIC sidearm," Sarah replied, "but for brute destructive force – this thing looks like it would do the trick."

But Chuck's attention had been diverted. There was a leather belt hanging on the wall – with four holsters attached. "Hello," he said. "What's this?"

He pulled down the belt. "Hmmm," he mused. "Two large holsters, two smaller holsters. Well, that's just perfect for my Desert Eagle .44 caliber, my Colt 1911, and my two Walther P9s…"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "At least get a couple of Uzis," she said.

Logan Echolls aimed the shotgun at the tissue paper target. He turned the valve on the gas canister attached to his belt, and fired.

A fraction of a second later, the tissue paper was shredded as twenty Airsoft pellets ripped through it. "Wow," came a voice from behind him. "Either you're really bored, or you're compensating for something."

"You should know better than to think it's the second one," he replied without even looking back. "In fact, I know for a fact that you know better."

Veronica Mars rolled her eyes. "Men," she said. "You're not seriously going to participate in this, are you?"

"Hell yes I am!" Logan exclaimed. "And so are you!"


"Yeah. There's a metal crate right inside the back door. Full of weapons. Go pick your poison."

"What about a babysitter, Devin?"

"Come on, there's like half a dozen college girls at First Lutheran who all love Reese. I say, if we're going there on a weekly basis and dropping a hundred and fifty bucks in the plate every Sunday, we should at least take a little bit of advantage of it."

Ellie sighed. "I don't know, I just feel a little silly leaving him with a babysitter to go basically have play time at the Buy More."

"It'll be fun!" Devin insisted. "You certainly liked it the last two times!"

That was before I knew how many federal agents were involved, she thought. Of course, she couldn't say that out loud – Devin still didn't know that Chuck was a CIA employee being protected by multiple federal agents.

Of course, Ellie was only partially right herself. She'd freak if she knew about the Intersect.


Morgan always loved making a spectacle of it. He stood on top of the Nerd Herd desk, dressed all in black.

The other participants were dressed in their own special ways as well. Casey was dressed in an Air Force BDU. Sarah and Chuck were dressed in black – "Are you wearing matching outfits?" Morgan asked in disgust.

"No," Chuck said, his denial falling flat as his face turned red. Logan was also dressed in a battle dress uniform. Bryce was dressed all in olive green. Veronica was wearing an FBI outfit. Devin and Ellie were both wearing dark blue UCLA sweatshirts and jeans. Anna –

Anna was wearing some sort of skin tight Charlie's Angels sort of thing. Chuck didn't even want to know what Morgan's feelings on that were.

"So, you have been divided into two teams by a BASIC program that was run on a twenty-five year old Commodore 64 computer," Morgan announced. "The teams are as follows: Gold Team is Sarah Bartowski, Logan Echolls, Bryce Larkin, Devin Woodcomb, and Anna Wu. Green Team is Chuck Bartowski, John Casey, Veronica Mars, Ellie Woodcomb, and myself."

"Prepare to die, Casey," Bryce Larkin said with a grin.

"You're goin' down, Mars!" Logan added. "GOLD TEAM!" Then he and Bryce improvised some sort of secret handshake thing.

"You have five minutes to hide your flags!" Morgan said. "Remember the rules – you get shot, you return to your base and count to thirty! Now… GO FORTH!"

Chuck thought he had a pretty good hiding place for Green Team's flag. Back in a corner of the printer section, there were two cases of form feed paper that hadn't moved since Chuck had worked at the Buy More. They were covered in a fairly thick layer of dust, and he figured that if the flag went behind those, it would NEVER be found.

Sarah was a little more creative. "They'll never find it if we put it someplace visible," she said. "They won't be expecting it.

And so, the yellow Buy More Frisbee that was Gold Team's flag went on a record player, and the plastic cover closed back over it. Logan shook his head. "Never would've thought of that," he admitted.

That's when the lights went out. "Okay, radio check," Sarah said, depressing the button on her tactical radio.





Over on the Green team, John Casey was doing the same thing. "This is Green Six, how copy?"

"Two checks," Chuck replied.

"Three," Veronica said.

"Four," Morgan answered.

"Five," came Ellie's voice.

"Let's do this," Casey said.

Chuck's teams usually had a strategy of sending one person at a time, leaving the others to guard the base. However, with their flag in a seemingly un-findable location, they all moved out at once.

There was silence for a moment. Then –


"Son of a bitch!" Casey hissed. "Echolls has got a friggin' shotgun!"

"I'll take care of him," Veronica said. Casey tromped back to the printer area, and started counting loudly enough to be heard storewide. "ONE, TWO, THREE…"

Veronica took advantage of the noise, and using her size to her advantage, managed to keep down as she scuttled around racks of DVDs. There was Logan, toting his shotgun… and what looked like night vision goggles on his face.

"Uh-oh," she whispered into the radio. "Gold Team's got NVGs."

"Shit," Casey replied. "Bartowski, please tell me you remembered ours."

No answer.


"He must be pinned down or something," came Morgan's voice.

"Hell with it," Veronica whispered. Pulling out her tiny flashlight, she peered around the corner toward where Logan was. Aiming her gun at the shelf, she fired off one round.

Logan heard the plastic pellet hit home and whirled toward the source of the noise. Immediately, Veronica flicked her flashlight on and then back off. It was on for just a fraction of a second, but that was more than enough.

"OWWW!" he shouted. Veronica stood up and shot him point blank in the chest, three times.

"That's not fair, Veronica," he grumbled.

"Oh, don't be sad, Logan," she said, walking toward him –

Right into the path of fire of Bryce Larkin's NSA issue rapid-fire Airsoft gun with no official designation. "Ow, ow, ow, son of a bitch!" Veronica shouted, dropping to the ground.

"Now who's sad?" Logan asked cheekily as he walked away.

Veronica growled at him as she stood and headed back toward the printer section.

"Hey," Logan asked into the tactical radio in his ear, "where's everybody at?"

"I'm over by the Nerd Herd desk," he heard Anna say.

"Home appliances," Devin replied.

"I'm by the home theatre lounge," Bryce said. "It's locked, but I'm gonna see if I can't pick the lock and set it up as a firing blind – wait."

"What is it?"

But Bryce had gone off the air.

A moment later, though, John Casey heard him in his earpiece. "Casey, Mars, Sarah," he whispered, "we may have a situation."

"Bryce, get off our channel," Casey shot back. "That's cheating."

"No, I'm being serious here," Bryce replied. "The home theatre lounge is locked, but there's definitely people in there. I'm not sure what's going on."

"Alright," Casey said. "Mars, Walker, meet me at the home theatre lounge."

A moment later, Casey and Veronica joined Bryce by the door of the home theatre lounge. "Where's Walker?" Casey asked.

Bryce looked at him curiously through his night vision goggles. "I don't know," he replied. "I figured she'd show up with you guys."

Casey was starting to feel a certain amount of dread in the pit of his stomach. He pulled out his cell phone and activated the tracking program – no, Bartowski's Corvette was still in the Buy More parking lot.

"No, no, no," he growled. Keying the radio, he said, "Bartowski, what's your twenty?"

No response.


There was still no answer. "This is NOT good," Casey said. "We really might have a situation. First thing we need to figure out is what the hell is going on in there. There's sensitive classified equipment in that room."

"Agreed," Bryce said. The three federal agents stood up, and Casey backed away from the door. Lunging forward, he thrust his shoulder against the edge.

The door popped open. "FEDERAL AGENTS!" Casey stage whispered, storming into the room. Bryce and Veronica followed, switching flashlights on –

"Oh my GOD!" Casey said in disgust.

The only thing the three federal agents had caught was another federal agent and a federal asset en flagrante. Chuck and Sarah both looked like deer in the headlights – Sarah lying on the couch, naked from the waist down, Chuck with his pants around his ankles, and absolutely no question about what was going on.

"Get OUT!" Sarah hissed.

The home theatre lounge went dark again, and the three agents backed out of the room, with Casey slowly shutting the door behind him. "I'm gonna go… um, vomit," he said matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, I think I'm gonna go bleach my eyeballs now," Bryce muttered. "Mars, you want to join me?"

"What?" she asked with a shrug. "Why would I? Nothing new there. I've had sex with Chuck. Quite a few times, back before he got married."

"O-KAY," Bryce said. "I'll be bleaching my eardrums as well."

The interruption didn't deter Chuck and Sarah any, and a few minutes later, they were finished.

Chuck sighed contentedly. "That was nice," he said.

"Yes, it was," Sarah replied. "Now, where's your flag?"

"Not telling," he said. "I'll take that secret to the graaaaaa…"

Chuck's eyes went wide. "There's two cases of form-feed paper on a bottom shelf. Flag's behind those."

Sarah sat up. "You are so easy," she laughed, and kissed Chuck on the cheek. "I promise I'll finish later."

And out of the home theatre lounge she went. "Not quite as easy as you think," Chuck muttered, keying the radio. "Guys, Sarah's on the way toward the flag."

"Fucking traitor," Casey growled.

"So very true," Chuck admitted. "On both counts."

"I hate you so much sometimes, Bartowski."

But a moment later, there was a series of pops, followed by a series of yelps that emanated from Sarah. A moment after that, she grumpily re-entered the home theatre lounge.

"You flipped on me," she growled.

Chuck shrugged. "Oh well."

"No more happy fun times for you, mister."

Chuck rolled his eyes, and then grabbed Sarah's wrist, pulling her down onto the couch. Before she realized what was going on, he had her in a lip lock, and his hand had found its way down the front of her pants.

"Where's your flag?"

"Never gonnnn… oh… never gonna te… Emerson record player, in the home audio section."

"Thank you," Chuck replied, standing up. "I'll finish later. I promise."

He turned to leave the home theatre lounge, but before he was out the door, seemed to have a thought. He turned around, crossed back to Sarah, and grabbed her radio off her ear.

"Spoilsport," she grumbled.

"Oh, you're just mad you didn't think to do it to me," Chuck replied with a laugh.

A moment later, there was a series of "Oh shits!" followed by a number of pops, a maniacal laugh that was definitely Chuck, and Chuck yelling, "SUCK IT, BITCHES!"

And the lights went on. Game over.

Buy More e-mail message

DATE: Monday, February 22nd, 2010

TIME: 8:30 A.M.

FROM: Michael Tucker, store manager

TO: All Burbank employees

SUBJECT: Improper use of store facilities

Alright, folks, let's cut the crap. There will be no further use of store facilities for… personal activities. I'm a little sick and tired of the store being trashed when I come in at 7:00 A.M.

Here's the deal. Grimes, Bartowski, you wanna use the store as an arena for your stupid ass Airsoft games, fine. Just make sure you CLEAN EVERYTHING UP. But as far as anything else goes…

I swear to God, if I find one more condom wrapper in the break room or the home theatre lounge, somebody's ass is gettin' nailed to the exterior sign! I hope I make myself clear – GRIMES AND BARTOWSKI!

Michael "Big Mike" Tucker
Store Manager, Buy More #1751