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Chuck VS the Wormhole Conspiracy

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"Morgan, no. Just because you spent an obscene amount of money on it, doesn't mean it's worth watching."

"But, come on, buddy, aren't you the least bit curious?"

Chuck raised a brow. It wasn't so strange, Morgan in his hyper-active, overly-excited state of fanboy, but what was odd was the subject matter. Yes, they followed quite a few cult series, and they could even get behind the lesser known shows in the science fiction genre, but this?

"Didn't we spend an entire ten hours hate-watching the first season of this show back when actual human beings were still tuning in to see it?" Chuck asked. "I seem to remember margaritas were involved."

Morgan made a face. "Technically..." When he saw Chuck's eyeroll, he grasped onto his friend's shoulders with renewed intensity, a difficult task, considering the flimsy DVD case in one hand, still wrapped in shiny plastic. "But, Chuck, I'm telling you, we need to sit down and watch this. It's the first three episodes, the ones aired before the big higher-budget reboot happened. Well, actually, only one of them aired on TV before its first untimely cancellation, but the other two were filmed and shown as some sort of midnight holiday special...Anyhow, that's beside the point."

"There's a point?"

Morgan huffed in annoyance. "Where have you been, man? How have you not heard all the rumors coming out about this show? That it was a cover-up for a real government operation? That the advanced technology discussed in the show is actually slowly being released to the public by government scientists studying alien technology?"

Chuck blinked. "I'm pretty sure rabid fans have said that about every major science fiction show out there. Star Trek ringing any bells? And how exactly would watching three episodes help prove or disprove this theory?"

"Because!" Morgan slapped the DVD case against Chuck's chest. "Two words: Writer. Commentary. If anyone knew the truth about the cover up, it would be the ones who were having to work the technology into the script!"

Chuck laughed. "How exactly does that work as a cover-up? The government sponsors a cheap tv show that replicates what's actually happening behind closed doors so that if any real info leaks, people will mistake it as being the work of fanboys of the show...?" Chuck frowned. "Actually, I can kind of see how that would work."

"Right?" Morgan grinned gleefully. "So. You. Me. Tacos. Wormhole Xtreme! What do you say, Chuckles? Ready to break a government secret wide open?"

Chuck winced at the comment and tried to cover it with a nervous smile. "Fine. But I'm not sitting through all ten seasons of the reboot."

Morgan fist-pumped the air above him, victorious, and Chuck dodged the flying appendage, nearly forgetting the plastic case pressed against him. He fumbled to catch it but missed. The box hit the floor, sliding across the freshly waxed linoleum, coming to a stop at the center of the main aisle of the Buy More.

The cover caught the light for a moment, the glare hiding the image across the front, but when a shadow fell over it, Chuck could see a picture of a group of attractive people in uniform standing in front of a whooshing wormhole. Wormhole Xtreme!'s logo looked tacky across the top, but it triggered something. Chuck felt it coming before it hit, the confusing array of images flashing through his head, documents covered in more black lines than words, old photos of a dig in Egypt, a huge metal circle packed away in a crate, bizarre symbols.

He came back to himself just in time to hear Morgan's blood-curdling scream, followed by a crunch. Chuck blinked down at the DVD case, or what remained of it beneath a massive shoe. He swallowed hard when he realized the shoe was attached to a scowling John Casey.

Casey completely ignored Morgan's mourning as the small man bent over his shattered DVD and marched over to Chuck, standing nose to nose with him.

"That show is crap anyway," he growled, eyes narrowing. "Don't bother wasting your time on it, Bartowski. Understood?"

Chuck squeaked out an affirmative as the man stomped off. He stared out into the space in front of him, shaken and unsure of what he'd just seen. Of all the flashes he'd had, that one had made the least amount of sense, and he wondered if Casey knew something more about it. Not that the somewhat-terrifying man would ever give up his secrets. Still...

"What the hell is going on at Cheyenne Mountain?" he muttered.