Guldrin’s Gluttony: Family Bound by Speed & Food

By the time Chuck and Morgan arrived back at the Buy More, Chuck's nerves were frayed to the point of snapping. Morgan, on the other hand, was practically vibrating with enthusiasm.

"Chuck, Dude, seriously, did you see that Chevelle?" Morgan exclaimed, his voice tinged with the kind of awe typically reserved for discovering buried treasure, or in his case, the next popular video game. "It's like a dream wrapped in chrome and horsepower! Honestly, if I didn't know any better, I'd say these guys are running some secret car cult."

Chuck barely registered Morgan's words, his mind replaying every suspicious glance and calculated move he'd witnessed at the café-garage. "Yeah, Morgan. Cars. Super cool," he mumbled distractedly.

As Chuck split off from Morgan using some lame excuse, he passed through the break room on their way to Castle, Chuck tried to steel himself. This was supposed to be a simple surveillance installation… a textbook installation. So why did it feel like he'd just walked into a game of high-stakes poker where everyone but him knew the rules?

Inside Castle, the tension in the air was palpable. General Beckman was already waiting on the video feed, her expression as unyielding as ever. Casey leaned against the wall with arms crossed, his disdain for Chuck written all over his face. Sarah offered a faintly encouraging nod, but even she seemed skeptical.

"Bartowski," Beckman began, her clipped tone immediately putting Chuck on edge, "I trust the day's operation was successful?"

Chuck cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. "Phase One is… mostly complete. We installed the majority of the surveillance equipment. But, uh…" He hesitated, his mind flashing back to the way Guldrin's piercing gaze seemed to see right through him. "I think they might be on to us."

Casey's laugh was more of a bark. "What did you expect? We knew how smart they were… As long as they aren't sure, then who cares, in the end, they are kids."

Chuck shot him an exasperated look. "You weren't there, Casey. This kid is smart. Like scary smart. He was watching me the whole time, and I swear he knew what I was doing. And the girl, Shiro, don't even get me started. She's like a walking chess computer, calculating ten moves ahead while smiling like she's just thinking about kittens. Speaking of cats, they have this adorable white kitten with white eyes, she is-"

Beckman cleared her throat and interrupted, her sharp eyes narrowing. "What evidence do you have to suggest they've discovered the true purpose of our operation?"

Chuck hesitated, realizing how flimsy his reasoning sounded. "It's just… a gut feeling. But Guldrin was hanging around the equipment we hadn't installed yet. And when I looked over at him, he gave me this look. Like he knew."

"Sounds like paranoia," Casey grunted, not bothering to hide his disdain. "Maybe you're just not cut out for this, Bartowski."

"Enough," Beckman snapped, silencing the bickering with a single word. "This mission is critical. If there's even a chance they suspect us, we need to adjust our strategy. Bartowski, you need to solidify your cover and gain their trust. Befriend them, if you have to."

"Befriend them?" Chuck repeated, incredulous. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to befriend kids who seem like they've been trained by an international spy academy by the time they hit middle school and could rival Playboy Stark?"

Casey smirked. "Then it's a good thing we sent you, isn't it? You're just bumbling enough to be believable."

"Not helpful, Casey," Sarah interjected, stepping forward. "Chuck, you can do this. They're just kids, even if they're exceptionally bright. Build rapport. Make them see you as an ally, not a threat."

Chuck sighed heavily. "Yeah, because nothing screams 'ally' like installing hidden microphones in their home."

"Adjust your attitude, Bartowski," Beckman ordered. "You have a job to do. If you can't handle it-"

"I can handle it," Chuck said quickly, though his voice lacked conviction. "Subtle. Trust-building. Got it."

"See that you do, and spare no expense if you think it will produce better results," Beckman said coldly. "Dismissed."

As the screen went dark, Chuck slumped into the nearest chair, rubbing his temples. "Why do I feel like this is going to end with me being outsmarted by 14-year-olds?"

Casey grinned darkly. "Because it probably will."

—

–

-

Back at the café-garage, a place that felt more and more like a fusion of Mad Max engineering and an Apple Store, Guldrin and Shiro worked late into the night. The hybrid space thrummed with quiet energy, illuminated by newly installed overhead LED panels, casting a sterile glow onto the workbenches. The air smelled faintly of engine grease and solder.

Guldrin, clad in a grease-streaked hoodie that had clearly seen better days, hunched over a workbench surrounded by a clutter of wires, tools, and the disassembled innards of what had once been Chuck's prided, 'Buy More tech makeover.' Shiro, her sharp amber eyes gleaming with curiosity, perched on a nearby stool, meticulously inspecting a circuit board under a magnifying glass. Despite their youthful appearance, they moved with the precision and confidence of seasoned engineers.

"This one," Shiro said, tapping a tiny chip embedded in the circuit board with her precision tweezers, "is definitely transmitting a signal. It's pinging a satellite relay every 15 seconds. This tech is so primitive… The bugs from my time were smaller than the naked eye."

"Figures," Guldrin muttered, deftly disconnecting a series of wires from another device. His hands moved like a surgeon's, quick but careful, as he avoided tripping any tamper-detection mechanisms. "They probably thought we wouldn't notice. I wonder how they are liking your jamming, and I use, that word loosely."

Shiro snorted, her lips curving into a smirk. "They underestimated us, they disguised their Wi-Fi Pineapple as a Wi-Fi router... Big mistake. 24hrs Nyan Cat, I bet they are enjoying listening to it, and the best part? I have us talking like normal about random things playing for them; so they have to listen to it all." She grinned,

—

–

-

Meanwhile, back with Casey, who had drawn the short straw and was tasked with monitoring the bugs, the situation was anything but pleasant. Sitting in a dimly lit corner of Castle, surrounded by rows of humming servers and screens, he looked like a man enduring cruel and unusual punishment. His jaw was set in a perpetual scowl as the incessant loop of Nyan Cat blasted through the headphones clamped over his ears.

"Are they seriously still listening to this?" he growled, ripping off the headphones for a moment to rub his temples. "Arrrgghhhh!"

Across the room, Chuck glanced up from his station, where he was reviewing innocuous footage of Guldrin and Shiro apparently tinkering and chatting about everyday topics. The feed played on a small monitor, the pair's voices accompanied by the relentless rainbow-trailing annoyance of Nyan Cat in the background.

"Relax, Casey," Chuck said, trying to stifle a grin. "It's just a phase. They're kids. Probably found the meme and are having fun. Let them enjoy it."

"Fun?" Casey growled and spat the word like it tasted bad. "This isn't fun; this is psychological warfare. I've interrogated terrorists who were easier to endure than this!"

Sarah walked in, carrying a coffee cup. Her expression was neutral, but her eyes were betraying faint amusement. "How's it going?" she asked.

Casey glared at her. "How do you think it's going? I've been listening to this for six hours. Six hours, Walker!" He gestured at the audio feed in disgust.

"Any intel?" Sarah asked, clearly unimpressed with Casey's theatrics.

"Yeah," Casey said dryly. "They really like Nyan Cat, and yes, I now know more about the cartoon meme than I should have ever been exposed to, and they're talking about random stuff like whether pineapple belongs on pizza. Riveting spy work, Walker. Reminds me of listening to Chuck and Morgan argue about pointless things."

Chuck scratched the back of his neck and chuckled nervously, trying to ease the tension. "Hey, sometimes you've got to play the long game. Maybe they'll slip up, or-"

"Slip up?" Casey interrupted, his voice rising. "They're debating if an AI could outscore a human in chess while this thing plays on repeat!" He jabbed a finger at the monitor.

Sarah leaned over to glance at the feed. Guldrin was gesturing animatedly with a wrench, while Shiro nodded along, her expression serene. Their conversation, filtered through the bug's audio feed, sounded natural enough:

"…and I'm just saying, if you optimized the algorithm for counterplay rather than brute force, you'd get a much more adaptive response. Like Deep Blue but smarter," Guldrin was saying.

"Sure," Shiro replied. "But then you'd sacrifice speed. It's a trade-off, and humans excel at reading the board for patterns in a way AI still can't replicate. Yet."

Chuck tilted his head. "Okay, but that's actually kind of impressive for their age. Maybe we could-"

"Don't," Casey snapped. "Don't start fangirling over the little geniuses. Just because they're smart doesn't mean they're clean, this is a mission, and they are the targets… Two incredibly irritating and smart targets… Keep your eye on the ball, Bartowski."

Sarah hid a smile behind her coffee cup. "I think it's safe to say they're not onto us. Let's keep monitoring and see if anything actionable comes up."

Casey grumbled but returned the headphones to his ears, bracing himself for another hour of rainbow-cat purgatory.

-

–

—

Back at the café-garage, Guldrin and Shiro were doing their best to keep straight faces as they imagined the Hell Chuck's team or, bosses, or whatever they are, were going through.

"You think they've cracked yet?" Shiro asked, her voice low and tinged with amusement as she carefully replaced a tiny microphone into its original position, now fully under their control.

"If they haven't, they're probably close," Guldrin replied, holding a soldering iron steady as he worked on a modified circuit board.

Shiro smirked. "I hope they are enjoying the playlist. You sure we shouldn't switch it up? Maybe add some Narwhals for variety?"

Guldrin snickered, nodding his head. "Please, my devious girlfriend, hacker extraordinaire… It'll drive them nuts without giving them a reason to think we know about the bugs."

"Okay, Narwhals it is," Shiro blushed, sitting back and stretching before beginning to set Narwhals to play after 3 more hours… "So, what's next?"

Guldrin placed the soldering iron down with a satisfying clink. "We start feeding them intel. Nothing big, just enough to keep them busy. Let's see… How about a plan to build a solar-powered drone for pizza delivery?"

"Genius," Shiro said, pulling out a notepad to sketch a rough design. "Make it sound plausible but completely irrelevant."

"And throw in some jargon to make them feel smart for decoding it," Guldrin added with a grin.

—

–

-

Hours later, back at Castle, Casey stared at the newest tidbit coming through the feed.

"They're building… a pizza drone?" he said incredulously, leaning closer to the monitor.

Chuck peered over his shoulder and plugged his headphones in to listen. "Wow, that's actually kind of cool. Solar-powered, too. These kids are really thinking ahead."

Sarah raised an eyebrow. "It's ambitious, but not exactly dangerous. Why would they need a drone for pizza delivery?"

"Maybe they're just nerds?" Chuck suggested.

Casey grunted. "Or maybe they're covering for something. Nobody builds a pizza drone for fun."

"Unless," Chuck said, his eyes lighting up, "it's a cover for something bigger. What if the drone is just step one in a larger plan to-"

"Bartowski," Casey interrupted, holding up a hand. "Stop. Just… stop. I can only take so much stupid, and this," He points to his headphones, "Is all I can take, I might get trigger-happy if you continue."

-

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—

As the night stretched on, the pair became a blur of activity. Guldrin's workstation became a mismatched battlefield of tools and components, each one carefully dissected, analyzed, and repurposed. Shiro worked with quiet intensity, her nimble fingers darting between soldering wires and tapping commands into a sleek laptop that looked far too advanced for its battered casing.

"Who do you think sent them?" Shiro asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

Guldrin paused, considering the question as he tightened a screw on a modified audio sensor. "Could be anyone. The CIA, NSA, some shadowy private firm… Or maybe just Chuck's clueless boss trying to boost customer satisfaction."

Shiro laughed, the sound light and melodic. "If it's the last one, we're wasting our talents."

"True, I might need to take up the offer from the bearded weirdo if that were true," Guldrin said with a grin. "But hey, if they're going to throw surveillance gear at us, we might as well make it fun. Have you looked into the set-up upgrades you wish to have them install for us? Let's go big, see how far their funding will go; break the bank if possible, and if not, then we learn they are big players, and we still get a new set-up."

The workbench was a chaotic mess, but Guldrin and Shiro had long ago learned how to navigate the clutter of wires, tools, and half-finished gadgets. The café-garage, their hub of operations, much to the dismay and chagrin of Mia and Letty, was littered with the smell of soldering iron and freshly cut components. As they worked, they both were already deep into planning the next phase of the operation, the subtle dance of misdirection they'd begun with Chuck and his team.

The next steps were critical. They needed to set up a comprehensive system that would feed the surveillance operation just enough to keep the spooks guessing, but not too much to make them suspicious. It was about playing the game, but doing so in a way that left no trace of intent. Guldrin knew how the system worked; if they got too close, they'd be labeled as threats, so subtlety was key.

"Let's play along. They'll expect us to be so much dumber than we are," Guldrin said with a smirk as he inspected a piece of their latest tech creation. The piece in his hand, a microchip, may look like an ordinary part, but it was so much more. It was a sensor they had hacked and re-engineered, one that could trigger upon specific inputs and send false data streams back to the team monitoring them. 

They would think the café-garage was full of mundane tech, maybe something cutting-edge like a pizza delivery drone, but behind the scenes, they'd be feeding Chuck and the team just enough to keep them hooked.

"I'm just curious how much Chuck and his friends are actually getting out of this. If they are the CIA or NSA, then, I am nearly certain the CIA's probably got the best of the best on their payroll, but they sure don't seem like they know how to run a tech op," Shiro mused, her fingers flying across her laptop's keyboard as she began writing up a fake update for their so-called solar-powered drone project. "I mean, they're giving Chuck surveillance equipment to install… is he even getting the best stuff?"

"That's exactly why we have to make sure they think we're using it," Guldrin replied, tossing a glance at her over his shoulder. "Let's not forget that we're playing chess here. If they know what we're truly capable of, the whole operation gets blown."

"True," Shiro said, returning her attention to the laptop. "Let's keep things... interesting. What if we feed them something like… a stealth network monitoring system? Just a bunch of jargon to make it sound complicated. They won't be able to tell the difference between a simple switch and a genius innovation if we dress it up properly."

Guldrin raised an eyebrow as he sat back, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. "Now, that's the kind of idea I can get behind."

The first step was choosing the tech that would be installed in the café-garage, a mix of high-end consumer equipment they could manipulate to their needs. The goal was simple: make it sound plausible, like something Chuck could imagine they'd install while slipping in just enough off-the-shelf pieces to keep things low-profile.

"You think they'll suspect anything if we ask them to install an advanced home automation system?" Guldrin asked, turning to Shiro with a thoughtful expression. "Something like smart lights, maybe a security camera network, that kind of thing?"

Shiro thought for a moment, then nodded. "It's within the realm of possibility. People are always trying to make their homes smarter. If we frame it as an 'upgrade' to the existing system, it'll look like we're just modernizing our tech. But those cameras… we can rig them to monitor specific areas while feeding nothing but blank screens to their feed. They won't know the difference."

Guldrin chuckled. "We'll feed them a stream of perfectly normal footage from cameras that aren't even plugged in. They'll think we're running an airtight operation. Instead of high-jacking one camera like you have now, we will override all of them."

Shiro grinned mischievously, her eyes glinting with the thrill of the challenge. "They'll be eating out of the palm of our hands."

The next piece of their elaborate ruse was the drone project. It started as a joke, a sarcastic way to see how far they could push Chuck's willingness to swallow absurd ideas. But now, with Shiro sketching out designs and Guldrin mapping out a list of necessary parts, it had taken on a life of its own. The solar-powered pizza drone was as ridiculous as it was brilliant, fitting right up next to the fishing sword in absurdity.

"We'll tell them we're using cutting-edge lithium batteries," Guldrin suggested, pulling up a technical spec sheet. "And give it a range that seems too ambitious. They'll probably bite on that. We could even add a feature where it can autonomously calculate the best delivery routes based on weather patterns and traffic data."

Shiro tapped her chin thoughtfully, then began typing on the laptop. "I like it. We'll make it sound like we're ahead of the curve with some quantum-level GPS accuracy. Totally ridiculous, but they'll never know."

"Exactly," Guldrin said, eyes lighting up. "And we can get Chuck to believe it. He's too much of an idealist to question any of it. We'll have them running in circles trying to decode all our 'tech talk.'"

As they continued working late into the night, the café-garage began to resemble a tech workshop more than a casual hangout. Parts and components piled up on counters, half-assembled drones and cameras littered the space, and a single, blinking terminal in the form of three laptops, sat at the center, feeding them fake updates and data about their 'projects.'

-

–

—

Casey sat slumped in his chair, eyes twitching in disbelief as the endless barrage of nonsense poured through the surveillance feed. His apartment, once a place of calm and order, now felt like a war zone. A thin sheen of sweat coated his forehead as he rubbed his temples, trying to block out the sounds of what could only be described as an auditory Hell. He had been listening to the same song on a loop for hours, an awful song called Narwhals. It was absurd, infuriating, and above all, unbearable.

"Why? Why does it keep happening?" he muttered to himself, glancing at his computer screen. "Why am I here? Why are they doing this?" His mind was slowly cracking under the strain, and his jaw clenched as he watched the faint glow of the bug feed. He had once been a professional operative, capable of tracking the most dangerous criminals on the planet, yet here he was, caught in a mental tug-of-war with a pair of teenage geniuses and a preposterous musical choice.

The playlist wasn't even the worst of it. It was the constant stream of nonsense data that was coming through the system. Pizza drones. Solar-powered. Lithium batteries. GPS, so advanced, it could calculate the future. It's all a cover. He knew it, deep down, that they were messing with him, but they were kids, how would they know?

 Every technical detail on the feed was a half-baked concoction designed to make him question his sanity. His hands gripped the arms of the chair, nails digging into the fabric as he forced himself to listen just a little longer.

The Narwhals song looped for what felt like an eternity. He had started counting the seconds, desperate to find any logical pattern in the madness, but all it did was make him question the stability of his own mind. His fingers twitched in rhythm with the beat as his eyes darted to the clock.

"It's been… five hours? Just five more hours until they stop…" he whispered to himself, like a mantra. He was going to lose it. He could feel the mental break coming. "Just a few more hours, Casey. You've survived worse… right? They can't stay up all night… Right?"

Then came the message on his screen, another update from the tech geniuses. They'd adjusted the home automation system to include a network of "quantum-level GPS drones for pizza delivery." He didn't know whether to laugh or scream. His mind started to spiral as he ran his fingers through his hair, suddenly feeling claustrophobic in his own apartment. "Quantum-level GPS for pizza? How the hell does that even work?! Do I tell someone? I should inform the General, but, not yet, I need more details…" He was completely losing his mind by this point.

The song Narwhals; It was driving him mad. He leaned back in his chair, feeling his frustration boil over. He ripped the headphones off and tossed them onto the floor, breathing heavily, eyes wide. "This... this is ridiculous."

He got up, pacing around the room like a caged animal, muttering to himself in a feverish haze. "They're just kids! They don't know what they're doing!" But the words sounded hollow, even to him. The truth was, they did know what they were doing. They were toying with him, pushing him to the edge, and he couldn't stop them. He couldn't prove it, none of it, was he crazy? He felt crazy, maybe he was?

He slumped back into his chair, staring at the screen in a daze. "It's just a stupid drone," he mumbled, "just a stupid pizza drone." His breath came in short bursts. "I'm losing my mind over pizza drones."

And yet, as his eyes glazed over, a thought crept in. If they're messing with me this much, what else are they hiding? The words echoed in his skull, sending a chill down his spine. This thought fueled him to keep listening to the musical Hell and trying to decipher the madness that is these two geniuses.

(Give me your POWER, Please, and Thank You! Leave reviews and comments, they motivate me to continue.)