Chuck vs the Meat Puppet, for mollita (Chuck/Dollhouse, PG)
posting this for wal_lace, who can't post it at this time
Title: Chuck vs the Meat Puppet
Author: wal_lace
Recipient: mollita
Fandom: Chuck/Dollhouse
Rating: Uh... PG? Vague references to violence and zombies.
Spoilers (if applicable): Through to the end of the first season of Dollhouse. Set vaguely in the middle of season two of Chuck.
Warnings (if applicable): I don't think it needs any.
Summary: The dead are walking, there's a schizophrenic killer sexbot on the loose, and Chuck's still stuck in the Buy More.
"You made... a secretary?" Boyd hadn't bothered to try to hide his surprise.
"I made the secretary." Topher was wearing a slightly manic smile. "Super-efficient, utterly emotionless, and, oh yeah, secretly crazy in lust with our client."
Langton suppressed his immediate reaction, and stuck with practicalities. "And you're sure she's still alive?"
"We lost the link to Travis, but her readings are still steady."
"Steady? After an attack by... those things?"
"Like I said, utterly e-motionless. Seriously, the only thing that could raise Echo's pulse right now is seeing the client. Uh, he's probably dead, by the way. So, are you going to send a team after her? Because I could program Victor or..."
"No." Boyd shook his head. "The place is in lockdown. Siege conditions. Nobody goes in or out -- it would compromise our security."
"You're just going to leave her out there?"
He shook his head again. "When you wake up, find Ballard and tell him he's in charge now. It's his responsibility to save everybody." He smiled grimly. "I think that'll appeal to him."
"What do you mean, when I..."
It was the second most satisfying punch Boyd Langton had ever thrown in his life.
***
Casey had done the math when the first reports started coming in. He'd done it again when Beckman had confirmed just how serious the situation could become.
The Castle was equipped as a fallout bunker. Its supplies could keep the three of them alive for 36 months. It had radiation and biohazard suits, tactical body armour, and enough munitions to sustain a medium-sized civil war. It was earthquake-proof, EMP-shielded, and had its own generator. It was the obvious place to secure Bartowski if the shit hit the fan.
It was a good plan -- straightforward and reliable -- so like all Casey's plans lately it instantly fell apart when confronted with the wildcard. Chuck.
First he'd wanted to kidnap his sister and her pet frat boy from the hospital and get them to safety. Then there was Grimes, and it looked like he was going to demand they bring the entire staff of the Buy More into the Castle with them, at which point Casey did the practical thing and tranqued him. Which was a slight improvement.
Then Walker pointed out that, crazy as the situation was, they weren't dealing with a nuclear war or even a tectonic event. They didn't need to stay underground when, practically speaking, they had already fortified half the buildings up above.
It was 4am when Casey went to secure the Buy More. Steel shutters were already in place over the entrances, and it was well before opening time, so this should have been simple.
Grimes and his girlfriend, Wu, were sneaking in the back way. Casey managed to hide his gun just in time.
"What are you doing here?"
"Chuck left me a message," Grimes said. "He called Code Strangelove."
Casey decided not to ask.
"Okay, so what are you doing here?" Wu demanded. Casey blinked.
"Protecting the Buy More."
"Sometimes your dedication intimidates me," Grimes said. "As opposed to your size, which intimidates me pretty much all the time. Where's Chuck?"
"Not here."
"He'll be here."
"No he won't. You should go."
"You're lying," interrupted Wu.
Casey sighed, then pulled out his gun. Morgan swallowed. "She didn't mean that," he said.
Wu was tensing, clearly ready to make a move. Casey really didn't want to have to kill her. Or kill Grimes in front of her. "Leave," he growled.
Grimes shook his head. "Chuck said we'd be safe here."
"He was wrong."
"Casey!" It was Walker, at the door from the shopfloor. No weapons in sight, but that didn't mean much.
"Sarah!" Called Morgan. "Uh, you should probably run and hide right now."
Walker ignored him. "Somebody just broke into the Orange Orange."
Casey hesitated. Best option? Shoot Grimes, and his girlfriend. Only problem was he couldn't be sure Walker wouldn't tell Chuck, and then he'd whine even more. If that was possible.
Second best option?
He gestured with the gun at Grimes and Wu. "Get into the AV room," he said.
***
Boyd had found her secured in a panic room. "Do you trust me?" He asked.
"With my life," she had replied, without pausing. "Is it time for my treatment?"
"We have to go. Come on."
He tried to keep himself between her and the bodies. "Don't look at them."
"Are they dead?"
"Yes."
"Then I don't see that I have any reason to be afraid."
Boyd was slightly taken aback.
"Sorry, Miss... uh..."
"Call me Victoria. It seems appropriate, since you've saved my life."
"Victoria, you have... poise."
"In my line of work, it doesn't do to crumble under pressure."
She paused in the doorway to the office.
"Harry?"
"I'm afraid he... they killed him."
Simpler than the truth, at this stage.
"I... I'm sorry. I was rather more fond of him than professionalism would dictate."
But exactly as fond of him as his sexy secretary fantasy would dictate, Boyd didn't say.
And then they were in the van, accelerating away from the carnage, and he was punching buttons on his cell as he drove, and resisting the temptation to use profanity.
"Victoria" climbed forward to sit in the passenger seat as he slowed right back down.
"Is there a problem?" Victoria's cut-glass accent sounded strange coming from Echo's mouth.
"Roadblock. Everyone's panicking. I didn't expect it to fall apart this fast."
"Does this mean I'm going to miss my treatment?"
"I hope not." He meant it. The Dollhouse was secure. If they could just get back there, they should be okay.
He managed a U-turn, then drove along the verge, flashing past a line of cars pointing towards the chaos.
A battered figure shambled into their path, its mouth gaping hungrily as it reached clumsily towards them.
"Buckle up," he muttered, and Echo got her seatbelt done up a moment before they slammed into the walker at 30 miles an hour, knocking him aside without slowing down. Echo/Victoria finally asked the question she'd been avoiding until then.
"What are those things?"
Of course Topher hadn't programmed her with recent news headlines, he reflected.
"A localised phenomenon, confined to small outbreaks in the rural Midwest." He wasn't usually this sarcastic.
"Mr Langton, you are being neither polite nor informative. Kindly modify your tone."
"A solanum infectee. A viral revenant. A walking dead man." He cornered sharply, throwing Echo against her seatbelt. "A zombie."
When had he told her his name?
***
Boyd Langton didn't think of himself as a complicated man. He had a job, which was taking care of the Dolls. Right now, the only Doll he could help was Echo. So he was going to take care of her.
They couldn't keep running blindly, so the first step was finding somewhere secure and defensible. After what had happened with Echo's client, and the various domestic staff on the client's property, he was short on ammo; sadly, their options as to where to stop and shop were rather limited.
Luckily, "Victoria" was eminently practical. She also showed a surprising knack for picking locks, which he made a mental note to ask Topher about. If they made it back.
They'd got the back door locked behind them, and Boyd was about to check the security shutter over the front window when a large man with a gun emerged from the storeroom.
***
"Okay. The world's been taken over by zombies, and I'm trapped in the Buy More -- which is bad -- in the company of John Casey -- which is worse -- and someone gave him a gun -- which is... what's worse than worse?"
"Stop pacing, Morgan."
"Sorry. I'm kind of terrified beyond the capacity for rational thought, here. What if he decides to kill us? What if he decides to feed us to the zombies? What..."
"Morgan," she was standing directly in his path. "Calm down. Casey's not going to kill us."
"He's not going to kill you, you mean. You're smart and can fight and you're, you know..." Morgan made a vague two-handed gesture towards his girlfriend's chest.
"Growing increasingly impatient? Morgan, I need you to think now. Why did Chuck tell you to come here?"
"I don't know. He always used to say the Buy More was the safest place he knew."
"It is. Hi, Morgan. Hi, Anna." Chuck staggered past them and dropped into the couch.
"Chuck! Thank God you're here. Listen, Casey is out there with a gun..."
"I know. He shot me." Chuck massaged his temples. "It kind of hurts."
***
"If we could all stay calm and talk about this like civilised people..." The woman who thought of herself as Victoria was not happy with the situation. The world seemed to have gone insane, she was overdue for her treatment, and now everyone was waving guns at each other.
The big man in the green polo shirt growled. Mr Langton -- Boyd -- said, in an extremely level tone: "Victoria, trust me. I want you to..."
"That's enough!" And now there was a tall blonde with a gun of her own flanking Boyd, who didn't flinch. "Put down the weapon."
Boyd took a long step to one side, getting the woman into his line of sight. Victoria had been edging away from the scene of potential violence, and now found her back against the front window. The big man scowled, adjusting his aim. "Put it down, pal."
"We're just looking for a place to hide out."
"Well, this place is taken. Walk on."
"I really don't think that's an option."
"I really don't think you have a choice."
Victoria decided it was time to interrupt. "Uh, miss..."
The blonde looked at her, but kept her gun levelled at Boyd.
"I'm sorry, but the smell of testosterone is making me a little nauseous. Would you mind awfully if I sit down?"
The big guy smirked. Nobody else said anything. She sat down.
"Now, back to the civilised option. Sir, you object to our presence?"
"Damn right I do."
"I'm afraid Mr Langton and I need a place to shelter, but it will be temporary. I'm already running late for an important appointment. Mr Langton?"
"Victoria?"
"In most polite circles it is considered extremely bad manners to threaten one's host. Might I suggest you put your gun away?"
"I don't think that's a good idea."
She sighed, rested her head in her hands theatrically, and then looked up at the blonde woman. "I'm sorry, Miss..."
"Nobody shoot!" It was another newcomer, a tall, lanky young man who burst in from behind the blonde. He paused. "Normally everybody points their guns at me when I do this."
"Are you armed?" Boyd asked sardonically.
"Um, no?"
"Then I'm comfortable." He kept his aim on the big guy.
"Okay," began the newcomer. "In that case if you and..." he trailed off as he made eye contact with Victoria. He stared for a moment, his eyes seeming almost to vibrate in their sockets.
"Echo?" He said in surprise, and then crumpled to the floor.
Suddenly both the blonde woman and the big guy were pointing guns at her. Boyd tensed up. Victoria tried to think fast, but her thoughts were slipping away from her. What did he mean, "Echo"?
"Chuck?" And there was yet another newcomer. This one short, bearded, and wearing an identical shirt to the big gunman. "Since when has there been a tunnel under the Buy More?" He stopped dead when he saw all the guns.
People were still talking, but Victoria felt the world swimming around her. Things suddenly didn't seem nearly so simple as they used to.
"It's like a bloody French farce here," she managed, and then everything went sideways and she glimpsed the floor accelerating towards her out of the corner of her eye.
***
Casey couldn't help but be impressed by Langton's reflexes. He managed to cross the five yards between himself and the swooning girl before she reached the floor.
Of course, along the way he dropped his gun. Which would have made everything a whole lot simpler, if it weren't for Bartowski, the eternal fly in his personal ointment.
"I'm just saying maybe -- maybe we should consider a plan that doesn't involve them being eaten by zombies."
"Or us," put in Grimes. Dumb comment -- Casey had already told him about the supply situation.
"You said it yourself -- she's an Active. No telling what she's capable of."
"Well, yes, and I'm even more in favour of not being killed by a brainwashed assassin than I am of not feeding her to the undead. It's just... she's kind of a victim in all this."
"Wait, I thought you said they were volunteers..." Walker was having trouble keeping up. Apparently the CIA hadn't been kept in the loop.
"Volunteers to have their personalities wiped so they can be used as sex slaves?" Wu didn't sound happy, but when did she ever? "Is that even legal?"
"If it was legal it wouldn't be a secret," Casey explained, completely without irony.
"So how does Chuck know all this stuff?"
Casey sat down. This was going to be a long morning.
***
Echo opened her eyes.
"Okay, that was not supposed to happen."
A worried-looking face blocked her view of the concrete ceiling. "Victoria?"
"Guess again. I guess Topher's got some work to do."
Boyd's tone was carefully neutral. "You've had a composite event?"
"Seems that way. How lame is that? I mean, what are the odds of me hearing the word 'Echo'?"
"I'm more concerned with why he said it."
"Yeah." She looked around. "This place looks familiar."
It was a concrete cell with a steel-and-glass door. She was lying on an extremely uncomfortable bed.
"You've been here before?"
"One of my personalities has seen some similar architecture. I'm guessing some kind of NSA safehouse."
"You remember how we got here?"
"Everything up to passing out in the frozen yoghurt shop. But I also remember zombies, so I'm kind of hoping I was hallucinating. And... you're about to tell me I wasn't."
***
Morgan Grimes had a headache.
"Are you okay?" Anna asked him. He managed a smile.
"Just trying to work it out."
"What are you working out?"
"Okay, plague of zombies, Chuck's a secret agent with a computer in his head, and there's a secret underground organisation which brainwashes people as sexbots. What out of that would you say was the weirdest thing?"
"I'm gonna go with the living dead."
"Oh. I'm still stuck on the fact that Chuck didn't tell me he was a spy."
"I think Casey would have shot you if he had."
Morgan leaned a little to his left, and could see Casey sitting in the main room of Chuck's secret underground spy base (Chuck had a secret underground spy base! How could he not have shared that with his best friend?). He looked angry, but that was really no indication of his mood. Angry Casey he was used to. It was Angry Casey with a gun and a national security clearance that was worrying him.
"Whose bright idea was it to give that guy a licence to kill?"
Anna smiled. "At least he's on our side. Probably."
"This is too weird. I need to think." He stood up. Casey raised his gun off the table. He didn't quite point it at Morgan, but the possibility was clearly there.
"You're not going anywhere."
"Well, no, because the building is surrounded by hungry zombies."
"It's not surrounded," Anna said. She pointed at the bank of monitors, which appeared to show pretty much everything within half a mile (including, worryingly, the inside of the locker room. Morgan had done some stuff while he was alone in there that he really hoped hadn't been caught by the cameras). "There's a whole bunch out front, but we could get out the back."
"And go where? Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the spy thing, Morgan, but this is probably the safest place in Los Angeles right now."
"I can't talk to you right now. You kept secrets from me!" He held up a hand in front of his eyes. "I can't even look at you, Chuck!" Too melodramatic? Nah.
"Morgan." Anna's tone would have been scary on any other day. No, scratch that, it was still scary. That was her charm. That and the really short skirts, and that thing she could do with her -- getting off topic here, Morgan.
"I just need some fresh air. Is there a way onto the roof? There's no zombies on the roof, right?"
"I'll get Sarah to take you up there," Chuck said.
Where was Sarah, anyway?
***
"Okay," said the blonde, pulling up a chair outside the cell. "What exactly is an Active?"
"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," Echo said, smirking.
The blonde paused, then produced her wallet and flashed an official-looking card. "Sarah Walker. CIA."
"And the other guys are NSA?"
"What's an Active?"
Echo folded herself into the lotus position on the floor, facing Sarah through the glass door. "It's complicated."
"I've got time."
"Basically, I'm a programmable meat puppet. The creepy tech guy plugs in a new personality, and I'm off on assignment. Except right now I'm being worn by 37 different personalities."
"How did that happen?"
"Good question. Imprints are not supposed to be this unstable, even when you're overdue for a treatment. My best guess is that I'd been programmed to be completely unflappable, and then I was presented with a situation where it was pretty much impossible not to freak out. Cue broken brain and what the tech guys like to refer to as a composite event."
"Meaning you have 37 different people in your head?"
"Not exactly. I have elements of them -- memories, skills, personality traits -- synthesized into what has been hypothesised as a gestalt uber-being. I should add that this hypothesis came from a composite who was egotistical even by the standards of regular sociopaths.
"Basically, my gestalt personality is potentially unstable, but has access to a wide range of talents. Some of which would be useful in, for example, surviving a zombie siege."
"I'll bear that in mind," Sarah stood up. "For now you're staying in there."
"With nothing to eat or drink."
"Casey told me to consider you lethal."
"The NSA neanderthal's not wrong. The question you should be asking is, am I hostile? Or am I just bursting at the bladder? Seriously, I just spent seven hours hiding in a very small panic room while the living dead wandered around outside. Not only do I need to pee, I am also this close to passing out from dehydration, and quite possibly about to crash from low blood sugar."
"... You like frozen yoghurt?"
"29 of my personalities are programmed to like anything that's both fun and healthy."
Boyd leaned forward to make eye contact with Sarah. "Could I get a soda?"
***
Chuck still wasn't clear on why they weren't running for the hills right now. He'd seen plenty of movies about zombie sieges. They never ended well. If he'd been in charge they'd have loaded up the Nerd Herders and headed for the Rockies, pausing only to pick up Ellie and Awesome.
Ellie. He'd been trying not to think about that. She'd been on shift at the hospital when he tried to call, so she hadn't answered her cellphone. He'd managed to get through to Awesome, who'd sounded blithely confident. Apparently the National Guard had put a cordon round the hospital, which Awesome seemed to think meant they'd be safe.
Chuck couldn't escape one nagging thought. A lot of infection happened at hospitals. What if the National Guard weren't there to keep the zombies out, but to keep them in?
He wished he could talk to somebody. But Morgan wasn't talking to him, and Sarah had taken him out for some fresh air. Anna seemed almost as pissed at him as Morgan, and Casey was... Casey.
He wandered through to the detention area. Echo waved her plastic spoon at him and then went back to her FroYo. The black guy -- Boyd Langton, he'd said his name was -- gazed at him calmly.
"Have you made up your minds what to do with us yet?" He asked.
"I think we've settled on not feeding you to the zombies as a starting premise," Chuck replied. "Although Casey isn't happy about it. He gets kind of moody when he's not allowed to kill people."
"And the living in a box thing?"
"Well, I was thinking about that. And, uh, I'm not sure if there's a polite way to put this, but... is she a killbot?"
"If she was, would you keep me locked up with her?"
"If I was a sexbot would you keep him locked up with me?" Echo had finished eating. She gave Chuck what would have been the most dangerous smile he'd ever seen, if her mouth hadn't been stained mango orange, and then lay back on the bed. "There's a small covered panel beside the door which can be pried off with any reasonably strong bit of metal. A belt buckle, say. Once you've done that, a basic knowledge of electronics is all you really need to open this cell."
Chuck swallowed.
"Once I got out of the cell, it'd be my discretion whether I kill you or just beat you senseless." She put her hands behind her head and crossed her ankles. "I'm programmed to enjoy either option." She suddenly scowled. "I'm also programmed to obsess over the fact that my stockings are ripped, and to find your current nervousness utterly adorable and kind of sexy."
"As you can tell," Boyd said drily, "this is a confusing time for her."
"Not really. I have these impulses, but right now I'm ignoring them." She sat up, and held up her paper cup from the Orange Orange. "Mostly I just want a little more of that mango yoghurt. Pretty please?"
***
"Was that necessary?"
"I don't think I like being talked about like I'm not there. You'd think I'd have gotten used to it by now, but..." Her tone was cheerful. Boyd wasn't fooled.
"I don't think you've encouraged him to let us out anytime soon."
"Well, yeah, but he knows I can break out of here anytime."
Boyd glanced towards the door, and the complete absence of small covered panels on the wall beside it. Still, a door was a door...
"How many of your personalities have burglarising skills?"
"Three. Four, if you count international art thieving skills. All of them would need tools to even think about opening that door."
Against his own better judgement, Boyd reached into his inside pocket.
***
"We stay here," Casey said firmly.
"You really think that's a good idea?" Chuck asked. "I mean, staying right where they can find us? That's not going to end well."
"We're secure. In case of emergency we can be resupplied or evacuated by helicopter. DoD projections for a situation like this..."
"Dod?" Morgan interrupted. He'd kind of given up on the getting some space thing. Surviving the zombie holocause kind of took priority.
"Department of Defence," Sarah put in. "They do a lot of planning for crisis management."
"Wait, the Government has plans for how to deal with a zombie plague?"
"Zombies, aliens, Russians, hippies -- we have plans for everything. Except Chuck Bartowski." Sarah smiled at him. Casey gave a disgusted grunt.
"We've got enough food for more than a year, and the army should be able to contain the situation long before then."
"You mean you're not expecting an irrecoverable collapse of the social order, leading to widespread reversion to a survivalist archetype across the remaining population?" Anna asked.
"According to the plans, that'll only happen if the zombies can run," Casey said. Morgan opened his mouth to speak, but Casey cut him off. "For the purpose of crisis management scenario construction, reanimated corpses are considered zombies regardless of their relative speed. Geek."
"Can they do that?" Asked Chuck.
"Under federal law, the tomato is botanically categorized as a fruit, but should be treated as a vegetable when determining tariffs. They're the Government, they can do what they like." Echo was standing in the doorway.
She walked out into the room, ignoring the suddenly levelled guns.
"Wait, wasn't she locked up?" Anna asked.
"Yeah," Echo said. "I was locked up with safe-cracking skills and an ex-cop who still carries his old lockpicks. You know what they say, a good cop needs to be able to think like a criminal."
She pulled out a chair and sat down. "Here's the deal. I have no desire to hurt any of you. How about you?"
She made eye contact with Casey. He glowered back at her. "How long are you planning on staying?"
"Until it's safe to leave. What's it like out there?"
"Getting scary." Boyd had moved over to the monitor bank. "I wonder why they're coming here?"
Morgan stood up. "Some kind of instinct. Memory of what they used to do. This was an important place in their lives."
"This is a Buy More, not the Mall of America. How many are out there?" Chuck asked.
"Hard to get a clear view," Boyd said. "Dozens, at least. Probably hundreds. The real question is, will they stick around?"
***
They stuck around.
Title: Chuck vs the Meat Puppet
Author: wal_lace
Recipient: mollita
Fandom: Chuck/Dollhouse
Rating: Uh... PG? Vague references to violence and zombies.
Spoilers (if applicable): Through to the end of the first season of Dollhouse. Set vaguely in the middle of season two of Chuck.
Warnings (if applicable): I don't think it needs any.
Summary: The dead are walking, there's a schizophrenic killer sexbot on the loose, and Chuck's still stuck in the Buy More.
"You made... a secretary?" Boyd hadn't bothered to try to hide his surprise.
"I made the secretary." Topher was wearing a slightly manic smile. "Super-efficient, utterly emotionless, and, oh yeah, secretly crazy in lust with our client."
Langton suppressed his immediate reaction, and stuck with practicalities. "And you're sure she's still alive?"
"We lost the link to Travis, but her readings are still steady."
"Steady? After an attack by... those things?"
"Like I said, utterly e-motionless. Seriously, the only thing that could raise Echo's pulse right now is seeing the client. Uh, he's probably dead, by the way. So, are you going to send a team after her? Because I could program Victor or..."
"No." Boyd shook his head. "The place is in lockdown. Siege conditions. Nobody goes in or out -- it would compromise our security."
"You're just going to leave her out there?"
He shook his head again. "When you wake up, find Ballard and tell him he's in charge now. It's his responsibility to save everybody." He smiled grimly. "I think that'll appeal to him."
"What do you mean, when I..."
It was the second most satisfying punch Boyd Langton had ever thrown in his life.
***
Casey had done the math when the first reports started coming in. He'd done it again when Beckman had confirmed just how serious the situation could become.
The Castle was equipped as a fallout bunker. Its supplies could keep the three of them alive for 36 months. It had radiation and biohazard suits, tactical body armour, and enough munitions to sustain a medium-sized civil war. It was earthquake-proof, EMP-shielded, and had its own generator. It was the obvious place to secure Bartowski if the shit hit the fan.
It was a good plan -- straightforward and reliable -- so like all Casey's plans lately it instantly fell apart when confronted with the wildcard. Chuck.
First he'd wanted to kidnap his sister and her pet frat boy from the hospital and get them to safety. Then there was Grimes, and it looked like he was going to demand they bring the entire staff of the Buy More into the Castle with them, at which point Casey did the practical thing and tranqued him. Which was a slight improvement.
Then Walker pointed out that, crazy as the situation was, they weren't dealing with a nuclear war or even a tectonic event. They didn't need to stay underground when, practically speaking, they had already fortified half the buildings up above.
It was 4am when Casey went to secure the Buy More. Steel shutters were already in place over the entrances, and it was well before opening time, so this should have been simple.
Grimes and his girlfriend, Wu, were sneaking in the back way. Casey managed to hide his gun just in time.
"What are you doing here?"
"Chuck left me a message," Grimes said. "He called Code Strangelove."
Casey decided not to ask.
"Okay, so what are you doing here?" Wu demanded. Casey blinked.
"Protecting the Buy More."
"Sometimes your dedication intimidates me," Grimes said. "As opposed to your size, which intimidates me pretty much all the time. Where's Chuck?"
"Not here."
"He'll be here."
"No he won't. You should go."
"You're lying," interrupted Wu.
Casey sighed, then pulled out his gun. Morgan swallowed. "She didn't mean that," he said.
Wu was tensing, clearly ready to make a move. Casey really didn't want to have to kill her. Or kill Grimes in front of her. "Leave," he growled.
Grimes shook his head. "Chuck said we'd be safe here."
"He was wrong."
"Casey!" It was Walker, at the door from the shopfloor. No weapons in sight, but that didn't mean much.
"Sarah!" Called Morgan. "Uh, you should probably run and hide right now."
Walker ignored him. "Somebody just broke into the Orange Orange."
Casey hesitated. Best option? Shoot Grimes, and his girlfriend. Only problem was he couldn't be sure Walker wouldn't tell Chuck, and then he'd whine even more. If that was possible.
Second best option?
He gestured with the gun at Grimes and Wu. "Get into the AV room," he said.
***
Boyd had found her secured in a panic room. "Do you trust me?" He asked.
"With my life," she had replied, without pausing. "Is it time for my treatment?"
"We have to go. Come on."
He tried to keep himself between her and the bodies. "Don't look at them."
"Are they dead?"
"Yes."
"Then I don't see that I have any reason to be afraid."
Boyd was slightly taken aback.
"Sorry, Miss... uh..."
"Call me Victoria. It seems appropriate, since you've saved my life."
"Victoria, you have... poise."
"In my line of work, it doesn't do to crumble under pressure."
She paused in the doorway to the office.
"Harry?"
"I'm afraid he... they killed him."
Simpler than the truth, at this stage.
"I... I'm sorry. I was rather more fond of him than professionalism would dictate."
But exactly as fond of him as his sexy secretary fantasy would dictate, Boyd didn't say.
And then they were in the van, accelerating away from the carnage, and he was punching buttons on his cell as he drove, and resisting the temptation to use profanity.
"Victoria" climbed forward to sit in the passenger seat as he slowed right back down.
"Is there a problem?" Victoria's cut-glass accent sounded strange coming from Echo's mouth.
"Roadblock. Everyone's panicking. I didn't expect it to fall apart this fast."
"Does this mean I'm going to miss my treatment?"
"I hope not." He meant it. The Dollhouse was secure. If they could just get back there, they should be okay.
He managed a U-turn, then drove along the verge, flashing past a line of cars pointing towards the chaos.
A battered figure shambled into their path, its mouth gaping hungrily as it reached clumsily towards them.
"Buckle up," he muttered, and Echo got her seatbelt done up a moment before they slammed into the walker at 30 miles an hour, knocking him aside without slowing down. Echo/Victoria finally asked the question she'd been avoiding until then.
"What are those things?"
Of course Topher hadn't programmed her with recent news headlines, he reflected.
"A localised phenomenon, confined to small outbreaks in the rural Midwest." He wasn't usually this sarcastic.
"Mr Langton, you are being neither polite nor informative. Kindly modify your tone."
"A solanum infectee. A viral revenant. A walking dead man." He cornered sharply, throwing Echo against her seatbelt. "A zombie."
When had he told her his name?
***
Boyd Langton didn't think of himself as a complicated man. He had a job, which was taking care of the Dolls. Right now, the only Doll he could help was Echo. So he was going to take care of her.
They couldn't keep running blindly, so the first step was finding somewhere secure and defensible. After what had happened with Echo's client, and the various domestic staff on the client's property, he was short on ammo; sadly, their options as to where to stop and shop were rather limited.
Luckily, "Victoria" was eminently practical. She also showed a surprising knack for picking locks, which he made a mental note to ask Topher about. If they made it back.
They'd got the back door locked behind them, and Boyd was about to check the security shutter over the front window when a large man with a gun emerged from the storeroom.
***
"Okay. The world's been taken over by zombies, and I'm trapped in the Buy More -- which is bad -- in the company of John Casey -- which is worse -- and someone gave him a gun -- which is... what's worse than worse?"
"Stop pacing, Morgan."
"Sorry. I'm kind of terrified beyond the capacity for rational thought, here. What if he decides to kill us? What if he decides to feed us to the zombies? What..."
"Morgan," she was standing directly in his path. "Calm down. Casey's not going to kill us."
"He's not going to kill you, you mean. You're smart and can fight and you're, you know..." Morgan made a vague two-handed gesture towards his girlfriend's chest.
"Growing increasingly impatient? Morgan, I need you to think now. Why did Chuck tell you to come here?"
"I don't know. He always used to say the Buy More was the safest place he knew."
"It is. Hi, Morgan. Hi, Anna." Chuck staggered past them and dropped into the couch.
"Chuck! Thank God you're here. Listen, Casey is out there with a gun..."
"I know. He shot me." Chuck massaged his temples. "It kind of hurts."
***
"If we could all stay calm and talk about this like civilised people..." The woman who thought of herself as Victoria was not happy with the situation. The world seemed to have gone insane, she was overdue for her treatment, and now everyone was waving guns at each other.
The big man in the green polo shirt growled. Mr Langton -- Boyd -- said, in an extremely level tone: "Victoria, trust me. I want you to..."
"That's enough!" And now there was a tall blonde with a gun of her own flanking Boyd, who didn't flinch. "Put down the weapon."
Boyd took a long step to one side, getting the woman into his line of sight. Victoria had been edging away from the scene of potential violence, and now found her back against the front window. The big man scowled, adjusting his aim. "Put it down, pal."
"We're just looking for a place to hide out."
"Well, this place is taken. Walk on."
"I really don't think that's an option."
"I really don't think you have a choice."
Victoria decided it was time to interrupt. "Uh, miss..."
The blonde looked at her, but kept her gun levelled at Boyd.
"I'm sorry, but the smell of testosterone is making me a little nauseous. Would you mind awfully if I sit down?"
The big guy smirked. Nobody else said anything. She sat down.
"Now, back to the civilised option. Sir, you object to our presence?"
"Damn right I do."
"I'm afraid Mr Langton and I need a place to shelter, but it will be temporary. I'm already running late for an important appointment. Mr Langton?"
"Victoria?"
"In most polite circles it is considered extremely bad manners to threaten one's host. Might I suggest you put your gun away?"
"I don't think that's a good idea."
She sighed, rested her head in her hands theatrically, and then looked up at the blonde woman. "I'm sorry, Miss..."
"Nobody shoot!" It was another newcomer, a tall, lanky young man who burst in from behind the blonde. He paused. "Normally everybody points their guns at me when I do this."
"Are you armed?" Boyd asked sardonically.
"Um, no?"
"Then I'm comfortable." He kept his aim on the big guy.
"Okay," began the newcomer. "In that case if you and..." he trailed off as he made eye contact with Victoria. He stared for a moment, his eyes seeming almost to vibrate in their sockets.
"Echo?" He said in surprise, and then crumpled to the floor.
Suddenly both the blonde woman and the big guy were pointing guns at her. Boyd tensed up. Victoria tried to think fast, but her thoughts were slipping away from her. What did he mean, "Echo"?
"Chuck?" And there was yet another newcomer. This one short, bearded, and wearing an identical shirt to the big gunman. "Since when has there been a tunnel under the Buy More?" He stopped dead when he saw all the guns.
People were still talking, but Victoria felt the world swimming around her. Things suddenly didn't seem nearly so simple as they used to.
"It's like a bloody French farce here," she managed, and then everything went sideways and she glimpsed the floor accelerating towards her out of the corner of her eye.
***
Casey couldn't help but be impressed by Langton's reflexes. He managed to cross the five yards between himself and the swooning girl before she reached the floor.
Of course, along the way he dropped his gun. Which would have made everything a whole lot simpler, if it weren't for Bartowski, the eternal fly in his personal ointment.
"I'm just saying maybe -- maybe we should consider a plan that doesn't involve them being eaten by zombies."
"Or us," put in Grimes. Dumb comment -- Casey had already told him about the supply situation.
"You said it yourself -- she's an Active. No telling what she's capable of."
"Well, yes, and I'm even more in favour of not being killed by a brainwashed assassin than I am of not feeding her to the undead. It's just... she's kind of a victim in all this."
"Wait, I thought you said they were volunteers..." Walker was having trouble keeping up. Apparently the CIA hadn't been kept in the loop.
"Volunteers to have their personalities wiped so they can be used as sex slaves?" Wu didn't sound happy, but when did she ever? "Is that even legal?"
"If it was legal it wouldn't be a secret," Casey explained, completely without irony.
"So how does Chuck know all this stuff?"
Casey sat down. This was going to be a long morning.
***
Echo opened her eyes.
"Okay, that was not supposed to happen."
A worried-looking face blocked her view of the concrete ceiling. "Victoria?"
"Guess again. I guess Topher's got some work to do."
Boyd's tone was carefully neutral. "You've had a composite event?"
"Seems that way. How lame is that? I mean, what are the odds of me hearing the word 'Echo'?"
"I'm more concerned with why he said it."
"Yeah." She looked around. "This place looks familiar."
It was a concrete cell with a steel-and-glass door. She was lying on an extremely uncomfortable bed.
"You've been here before?"
"One of my personalities has seen some similar architecture. I'm guessing some kind of NSA safehouse."
"You remember how we got here?"
"Everything up to passing out in the frozen yoghurt shop. But I also remember zombies, so I'm kind of hoping I was hallucinating. And... you're about to tell me I wasn't."
***
Morgan Grimes had a headache.
"Are you okay?" Anna asked him. He managed a smile.
"Just trying to work it out."
"What are you working out?"
"Okay, plague of zombies, Chuck's a secret agent with a computer in his head, and there's a secret underground organisation which brainwashes people as sexbots. What out of that would you say was the weirdest thing?"
"I'm gonna go with the living dead."
"Oh. I'm still stuck on the fact that Chuck didn't tell me he was a spy."
"I think Casey would have shot you if he had."
Morgan leaned a little to his left, and could see Casey sitting in the main room of Chuck's secret underground spy base (Chuck had a secret underground spy base! How could he not have shared that with his best friend?). He looked angry, but that was really no indication of his mood. Angry Casey he was used to. It was Angry Casey with a gun and a national security clearance that was worrying him.
"Whose bright idea was it to give that guy a licence to kill?"
Anna smiled. "At least he's on our side. Probably."
"This is too weird. I need to think." He stood up. Casey raised his gun off the table. He didn't quite point it at Morgan, but the possibility was clearly there.
"You're not going anywhere."
"Well, no, because the building is surrounded by hungry zombies."
"It's not surrounded," Anna said. She pointed at the bank of monitors, which appeared to show pretty much everything within half a mile (including, worryingly, the inside of the locker room. Morgan had done some stuff while he was alone in there that he really hoped hadn't been caught by the cameras). "There's a whole bunch out front, but we could get out the back."
"And go where? Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the spy thing, Morgan, but this is probably the safest place in Los Angeles right now."
"I can't talk to you right now. You kept secrets from me!" He held up a hand in front of his eyes. "I can't even look at you, Chuck!" Too melodramatic? Nah.
"Morgan." Anna's tone would have been scary on any other day. No, scratch that, it was still scary. That was her charm. That and the really short skirts, and that thing she could do with her -- getting off topic here, Morgan.
"I just need some fresh air. Is there a way onto the roof? There's no zombies on the roof, right?"
"I'll get Sarah to take you up there," Chuck said.
Where was Sarah, anyway?
***
"Okay," said the blonde, pulling up a chair outside the cell. "What exactly is an Active?"
"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," Echo said, smirking.
The blonde paused, then produced her wallet and flashed an official-looking card. "Sarah Walker. CIA."
"And the other guys are NSA?"
"What's an Active?"
Echo folded herself into the lotus position on the floor, facing Sarah through the glass door. "It's complicated."
"I've got time."
"Basically, I'm a programmable meat puppet. The creepy tech guy plugs in a new personality, and I'm off on assignment. Except right now I'm being worn by 37 different personalities."
"How did that happen?"
"Good question. Imprints are not supposed to be this unstable, even when you're overdue for a treatment. My best guess is that I'd been programmed to be completely unflappable, and then I was presented with a situation where it was pretty much impossible not to freak out. Cue broken brain and what the tech guys like to refer to as a composite event."
"Meaning you have 37 different people in your head?"
"Not exactly. I have elements of them -- memories, skills, personality traits -- synthesized into what has been hypothesised as a gestalt uber-being. I should add that this hypothesis came from a composite who was egotistical even by the standards of regular sociopaths.
"Basically, my gestalt personality is potentially unstable, but has access to a wide range of talents. Some of which would be useful in, for example, surviving a zombie siege."
"I'll bear that in mind," Sarah stood up. "For now you're staying in there."
"With nothing to eat or drink."
"Casey told me to consider you lethal."
"The NSA neanderthal's not wrong. The question you should be asking is, am I hostile? Or am I just bursting at the bladder? Seriously, I just spent seven hours hiding in a very small panic room while the living dead wandered around outside. Not only do I need to pee, I am also this close to passing out from dehydration, and quite possibly about to crash from low blood sugar."
"... You like frozen yoghurt?"
"29 of my personalities are programmed to like anything that's both fun and healthy."
Boyd leaned forward to make eye contact with Sarah. "Could I get a soda?"
***
Chuck still wasn't clear on why they weren't running for the hills right now. He'd seen plenty of movies about zombie sieges. They never ended well. If he'd been in charge they'd have loaded up the Nerd Herders and headed for the Rockies, pausing only to pick up Ellie and Awesome.
Ellie. He'd been trying not to think about that. She'd been on shift at the hospital when he tried to call, so she hadn't answered her cellphone. He'd managed to get through to Awesome, who'd sounded blithely confident. Apparently the National Guard had put a cordon round the hospital, which Awesome seemed to think meant they'd be safe.
Chuck couldn't escape one nagging thought. A lot of infection happened at hospitals. What if the National Guard weren't there to keep the zombies out, but to keep them in?
He wished he could talk to somebody. But Morgan wasn't talking to him, and Sarah had taken him out for some fresh air. Anna seemed almost as pissed at him as Morgan, and Casey was... Casey.
He wandered through to the detention area. Echo waved her plastic spoon at him and then went back to her FroYo. The black guy -- Boyd Langton, he'd said his name was -- gazed at him calmly.
"Have you made up your minds what to do with us yet?" He asked.
"I think we've settled on not feeding you to the zombies as a starting premise," Chuck replied. "Although Casey isn't happy about it. He gets kind of moody when he's not allowed to kill people."
"And the living in a box thing?"
"Well, I was thinking about that. And, uh, I'm not sure if there's a polite way to put this, but... is she a killbot?"
"If she was, would you keep me locked up with her?"
"If I was a sexbot would you keep him locked up with me?" Echo had finished eating. She gave Chuck what would have been the most dangerous smile he'd ever seen, if her mouth hadn't been stained mango orange, and then lay back on the bed. "There's a small covered panel beside the door which can be pried off with any reasonably strong bit of metal. A belt buckle, say. Once you've done that, a basic knowledge of electronics is all you really need to open this cell."
Chuck swallowed.
"Once I got out of the cell, it'd be my discretion whether I kill you or just beat you senseless." She put her hands behind her head and crossed her ankles. "I'm programmed to enjoy either option." She suddenly scowled. "I'm also programmed to obsess over the fact that my stockings are ripped, and to find your current nervousness utterly adorable and kind of sexy."
"As you can tell," Boyd said drily, "this is a confusing time for her."
"Not really. I have these impulses, but right now I'm ignoring them." She sat up, and held up her paper cup from the Orange Orange. "Mostly I just want a little more of that mango yoghurt. Pretty please?"
***
"Was that necessary?"
"I don't think I like being talked about like I'm not there. You'd think I'd have gotten used to it by now, but..." Her tone was cheerful. Boyd wasn't fooled.
"I don't think you've encouraged him to let us out anytime soon."
"Well, yeah, but he knows I can break out of here anytime."
Boyd glanced towards the door, and the complete absence of small covered panels on the wall beside it. Still, a door was a door...
"How many of your personalities have burglarising skills?"
"Three. Four, if you count international art thieving skills. All of them would need tools to even think about opening that door."
Against his own better judgement, Boyd reached into his inside pocket.
***
"We stay here," Casey said firmly.
"You really think that's a good idea?" Chuck asked. "I mean, staying right where they can find us? That's not going to end well."
"We're secure. In case of emergency we can be resupplied or evacuated by helicopter. DoD projections for a situation like this..."
"Dod?" Morgan interrupted. He'd kind of given up on the getting some space thing. Surviving the zombie holocause kind of took priority.
"Department of Defence," Sarah put in. "They do a lot of planning for crisis management."
"Wait, the Government has plans for how to deal with a zombie plague?"
"Zombies, aliens, Russians, hippies -- we have plans for everything. Except Chuck Bartowski." Sarah smiled at him. Casey gave a disgusted grunt.
"We've got enough food for more than a year, and the army should be able to contain the situation long before then."
"You mean you're not expecting an irrecoverable collapse of the social order, leading to widespread reversion to a survivalist archetype across the remaining population?" Anna asked.
"According to the plans, that'll only happen if the zombies can run," Casey said. Morgan opened his mouth to speak, but Casey cut him off. "For the purpose of crisis management scenario construction, reanimated corpses are considered zombies regardless of their relative speed. Geek."
"Can they do that?" Asked Chuck.
"Under federal law, the tomato is botanically categorized as a fruit, but should be treated as a vegetable when determining tariffs. They're the Government, they can do what they like." Echo was standing in the doorway.
She walked out into the room, ignoring the suddenly levelled guns.
"Wait, wasn't she locked up?" Anna asked.
"Yeah," Echo said. "I was locked up with safe-cracking skills and an ex-cop who still carries his old lockpicks. You know what they say, a good cop needs to be able to think like a criminal."
She pulled out a chair and sat down. "Here's the deal. I have no desire to hurt any of you. How about you?"
She made eye contact with Casey. He glowered back at her. "How long are you planning on staying?"
"Until it's safe to leave. What's it like out there?"
"Getting scary." Boyd had moved over to the monitor bank. "I wonder why they're coming here?"
Morgan stood up. "Some kind of instinct. Memory of what they used to do. This was an important place in their lives."
"This is a Buy More, not the Mall of America. How many are out there?" Chuck asked.
"Hard to get a clear view," Boyd said. "Dozens, at least. Probably hundreds. The real question is, will they stick around?"
***
They stuck around.