Martial Arts

"Listen, buddy, the guys from last night are in the store! Judging by how you're whispering, I assume you already know?"

Simon wasn't stupid. Hearing Chuck's lowered voice, he knew Chuck had already spotted them.

"Yes! I'm hiding near the customer service desk. Get Sarah and Casey—now!"

Chuck hurriedly hung up before Simon could respond.

Simon sighed, putting away his phone before spotting Casey tailing the two killers.

"Casey, Chuck's in trouble. One of these guys was at the hotel last night," Simon whispered.

Casey gave a brief nod. "I know. I got this."

Looking at the two towering brutes, Simon casually said, "I'll handle the one on the left."

Casey raised an eyebrow. "You sure?"

Simon smirked. "A real man is never 'not sure.'"

Casey gave him a skeptical glance, scoffing. "Hmph."

Just then, the store's PA system crackled to life.

"Chuck Bartowski, please report to the storage room."

Hearing the familiar voice, Simon and Casey exchanged glances.

The two killers perked up, immediately asking, "Where's the storage room?"

"Right this way, gentlemen," Simon said politely, gesturing toward the back.

As he walked, he turned to Casey and added casually, "Casey, I need help moving some stock. Come with me."

Casey caught on instantly. "Sure, no problem."

With that, the four of them entered the dimly lit storage room.

"Where's Chuck Bartowski?" one of the assassins asked coldly.

Click!

Simon didn't answer. Instead, he calmly locked the door behind him.

The two killers immediately realized they'd walked into a trap.

Without hesitation, they reached for their guns.

But Simon moved first.

Dashing forward, he grabbed the gun arm of the nearest thug. A swift twist and disarm maneuver—one yank, one pivot—and the gun was in Simon's hands.

At the same time, Simon's right foot shot out, kicking the second thug's gun out of his hand.

With both enemies disarmed, Simon casually tossed the first gun to Casey.

Then, without missing a beat, he struck.

A powerful knee strike to the first thug's face sent him collapsing like a sack of bricks.

The second thug, enraged, swung a fist the size of a sledgehammer at Simon's head.

Simon easily dodged, stepping back with effortless precision.

Before the assassin could react, Simon grabbed his wrist and—

Locked his legs around the thug's neck in a devastating chokehold.

The pressure tightened.

The assassin gasped, his face turning red, arms flailing desperately.

After a few agonizing seconds, he tapped out on the floor, surrendering.

"Enough, Simon. Let him go."

Casey pressed the barrel of his gun against the thug's temple.

Simon released him, watching as the man collapsed, coughing violently.

Casey smirked, snapping handcuffs onto the dazed assassins.

"Gotta admit, you're pretty damn good."

Simon grinned, dusting himself off. "Thanks."

Casey pulled out his phone and made a call.

"I got two 'packages' that need pickup."

Hanging up, he grabbed a large storage crate and called out, "Help me pack them up."

Simon sighed dramatically. "Fine."

Minutes later, the two unconscious assassins were shoved into crates.

Acting like deliverymen, Simon and Casey wheeled the 'cargo' out back.

A plain white van was waiting.

"Major Casey," one of the operatives greeted. "Where's the shipment?"

Casey tapped the crates. "Right here. Interrogate them thoroughly."

"Yes, sir."

As the van pulled away, Casey turned to Simon.

"Where the hell did you learn to fight like that?"

Simon chuckled.

"Spent a few years at a Chinatown martial arts school. Before that, I picked up some hand-to-hand combat in Boy Scouts. Later, I self-taught Muay Thai, Taekwondo, and some other styles."

All of which was technically true—and verifiable.

Even if Casey investigated, he wouldn't find anything suspicious.

Casey looked mildly impressed.

"Not bad. But something tells me you're up to something."

Simon smirked. "You got me."

Casey's expression darkened. "Spill it. What's your game?"

Simon casually leaned against the wall, thinking for a moment.

"Alright, fine. I do have an agenda—but it's not about your secrets. What I want is money."

Casey narrowed his eyes. "Money?"

"Yeah. Hire me."

Casey blinked.

"I don't need your classified intel. I don't even need a badge. Just tell me where to go and what to do, and I'll do it. In return? You pay me."

Simon watched Casey's reaction carefully.

For what he needed to do long-term, he'd need more than just Brian's protection.

He needed a stronger safety net—one that could keep him off the radar.

And who better than an intelligence agency?

Even if Brian's cover was blown, spies could make problems disappear.

If he could ingrain himself with Casey's group, then his future would be much more secure.

"So… like a mercenary?" Casey asked after a long pause.

"Exactly. No classified intel. No loyalty tests. Just a paid job. I'll only step in when you need me. If it's a suicide mission, I say no. If it's reasonable, I say yes."

Casey crossed his arms, thinking.

Sarah and he had limited resources—protecting Chuck while keeping their cover intact was a nightmare.

But if Simon was around to babysit Chuck and provide backup, that would take a huge weight off their shoulders.

Casey was tempted.

"I'll run it by command," he finally said.

Simon smiled. "Appreciate it."

But deep down, he knew—

If he played this right, he'd be in the perfect position to control his own fate.