Title: Black Magic Man

Author: Kits

Archive: Anyone who wants it is more than welcome to it.

Disclaimer: I own me, myself, and I. I stole Wilson's name from the lovely and charming ladies Patti and Marg, and I do hope they don't mind. I own Hogan, Olsen, and am sharing Newkirk with Bianca. Sorry, Carter is also Bianca's. Lebeau, however, is up for grabs. First come, first serve basis.

Feecback: Does a duck swim? Does a dog bark? Is Kits weird?

BOOM!

An explosion shook the tunnel and barracks above it. The bunks and the table in the center rocked precariously on the trembling floor.

The men at the table, however, did not even show they were aware of any bombing going on.

"Cup of coffee, Carter?" Kinch asked from his position near the stove.

"No, thanks."

"Newkirk?" the radioman offered.

"Don't mind if I do," the Englishman accepted. Kinch poured him a cup and placed it on the table across from Newkirk.

BOOM!

The resulting tremors placed the cup comfortably within his reach.

"Thank you," he said, sipping the aromatic black liquid.

Kinch nodded. "No problem." He shifted his chair from where it had wandered over to the Colonel's door and sat down.

BOOM!

The poker game was temporarily halted while the group brushed off their shoulders, shook the dust from their hair, and moved back to the table.

"I got the pot!" Carter reached down to pick up the various cookies on the floor. He blew off the dirt before placing them back in the middle.

BOOM!

Carter picked up his chair from where it had fallen and pulled it closer to the table.

A head poked through the Barrack's door.

"Everyone alright in here?" the camp medic asked. The circle of people at the table nodded absent-mindedly while shuffling through their cards.

"Raise you... my dogtags," Carter said.

"You can't bet those!" Lebeau exclaimed indignantly.

BOOM!

Wilson was knocked to his feet by the roiling earth. The men of Barracks 2 simply shifted their chairs close to the table again and glanced over once to make sure the medic was alright. He was.

Sparing a disbelieving look at the poker-players, he lurched out the door again on unsteady feet.
Hogan walked out of his office a few minutes (and bombs) later.

"Hey, guys. What's in the pot?"


Kinch looked up from stroking his moustache.

"Oatmeal, chocolate chip, and, uh," he gave a sheepish smile, "icebox cookies." Hogan grinned and stretched his hand down to rest on a nonexistent chair.

BOOM!

An unused chair immediately connected with Hogan's hand. He used his free one to cover a yawn.

"Oh well, guys, I'm going to sleep. Night," he waved as he walked to his door tiredly.

"Night, guv'nor."

"G'nite, Colonel."

"Bon nuit, mon Colonel."

Olsen lifted his head briefly to say goodnight and gave a shout of dismay. The Colonel was about to trip over an errant baseball that had somehow rolled in front of his door. The others looked up at his cry and were about to warn the officer when--

BOOM!

--Hogan stepped right where the ball had just been before the last bomb had fell. He turned at Olsen's outcry, but the guys just stared at him.

"Yes?" he prompted.

"Umm, nothing. Goodnight, Colonel," Olsen stuttered.

Shrugging, Hogan opened the door to his quarters and walked inside.

Once the door closed, Kinch shook his head wonderingly.

"How does he do it?" he asked in an awe-filled voice.

"Bloody magic is what it is."

The others just shrugged and waited for the next bomb to shake their coffee to the original owners.