Author's Note: I've got lots of stuff planned for this story, so please subscribe and leave comments if you like the story. :D Thank you!

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"Three lawsuits," Barney said knocking back the rest of his scotch. He'd ordered it three minutes ago and it was already throbbing through his veins. "Three."

"And they're bad, too," Marshall told the group as Lily hugged his arm sympathetically.

"Well, you're a great lawyer, baby," she said confidently, rubbing his shoulder.

Barney slammed his glass down on the table, and Wendy arrived within minutes with a fresh one. He indulged eagerly without even a thanks. "Now I have to fly to Ratchaburi next week to face a throng of angry Thai men," Barney growled.

"That sucks," Robin said as she nudged him gently with her shoulder. "Anything we can do to help?"

Barney looked up at her, a sad look in his eyes. "Yes, there is," he said softly.

"Okay, what do you need?" Robin asked, almost fearful of the answer.

Barney jumped up from the booth and snapped his fingers. "Scherbatsky, wingman."

"What?" she choked through an incredulous laugh.

"Come on, I've got a great plan, but it requires the assistance of a woman."

Robin shot Ted a desperate look, but he merely laughed. "Sorry, you're on your own."

Robin groaned and begrudgingly followed Barney over to the bar. They sat down at the corner where they could discuss the plan in secret.

"All right, Scherbatsky, game time," Barney began in a low tone. "So I'm thinking, if I want to forget about this whole 'being sued from three different angles thing,' I think I need to counter it with... getting laid at three different angles," he said with an arrogant grin and a slow nod of the head. "Yeah." Robin rolled her eyes. "I'm looking at..." Barney threw a cursory glance over his shoulder and then turned back to Robin, "table number six."

Robin looked over his shoulder and saw three young ladies who seemed to be having a contest over who could finish her beer first. "They seem charming," she said dully.

"Boy, can that one in the middle can swallow."

"Oh, gross!" Robin shrieked. Barney's snickering suddenly turned into an anguished groan. "What's the matter?" Robin asked.

"I don't know," he said looking down at his shoes. "I got this sharp pain in my – ah! – toes all of a sudden," he grumbled through gritted teeth. Robin couldn't help but laugh.

"Is this part of the plan?" she teased. "Are they supposed to take you home and nurse you?"

"I'll be right back," Barney muttered, pushing off of his stool and stumbling out the back door into the alley. He felt the pain crawling up from his toes until his whole body felt numb. He dropped to his knees and doubled over; then a feeling, much like when he got hit by the bus, struck his skull, and he blacked out. When he came to, he was in the same crouched position but inside of what felt like an adult-sized womb. A door by his elbow opened with a hiss, and he staggered out, driving a hand into his throbbing forehead.

"Where the hell am I?"

---

Billy slowly opened his eyes, feeling a cold from the pavement press into the back of his head. He sat up slowly and stumbled to his feet, looking around. "Where the hell am I?" he whispered. He shook his head. This wasn't supposed to happen. He was supposed to crawl out of the capsule, followed shortly thereafter by an identical copy of himself. He wasn't supposed to actually go anywhere. Unless...

"Oh god," he said, looking around at the empty space around him. "Did I blow up my house?"

Still feeling dazed, he headed for the door in front of him, which seemed to lead to the inside of a Pub. This was definitely no bar in his neighborhood. The first woman he saw was sitting at the bar with her back turned. He decided to approach her for information.

"Excuse me?" he said tapping her lightly on the shoulder. The woman turned around, her eyes wide.

"Barney?" she spluttered. "What happened to your suit?"

"I'm... not wearing a suit?" Billy said, confused. "And my name is Billy, not Barney."

"Ohhh," the woman said slowly, as though reaching some epiphany. "Role playing? That's new."

"Huh?" he asked. This woman must have been drunk out of her mind; she was sitting in front of two scotches. Then again, she seemed perfectly sober.

"Or... not so new," she said with a furrowed brow. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised."

"Uh, okay," Billy said. "Listen, I need to know –"

"So, are you going to tell me about your plan or what?" the woman asked. Billy's spine straightened, and he felt a nervous spasm rise to his eyelids.

"Plan, what plan?" he asked nervously. "How do you know about my plan?"

"Uh, because you told me?" she said. "What the hell's the matter with you, Barney?"

"Billy," he grumbled, feeling increasingly annoyed with this woman.

"Oh, right. Billy," she whispered with a wink.

Just then, a very tall man approached them with a short dark-haired girl draped over his arm. "Hey guys," the man said, "Lily and I are feeling pretty tired, and I still have those documents to look over tonight." He gave Billy a once over. "What happened to your suit?"

"I'm not wearing a suit!" Billy cried.

"Yeah, I know," the man said. "You were just wearing one five minutes ago. Could it be that Barney Stinson is a master of disguises?" he said mysteriously, stroking his chin with the tips of his thumb and forefinger.

"Come on, baby, we'd better get going," the girl named Lily said tugging on... (Billy noticed wedding rings)... her husband's arm.

"Yeah, I have to go in early tomorrow to processes some of this paperwork from the lawsuits," he said to Billy as if that was supposed to make sense. "Night Barney, night Robin," he said as he and his wife headed out the door.

"Good night!" the woman named Robin called after them. She turned back to Billy. "So let's get to work."

Billy shook his head. "Look, I've got to go," he said vaguely, stuffing his hands shyly in his hoodie pockets and heading for the front door. Robin watched him curiously and then headed towards a table where a man was sitting.

"What's up with Barney?" he asked.

"I don't know," Robin said. "I guess these lawsuits are really messing with his head."

---

Billy walked a good two or three blocks before realizing he didn't recognize where he was at all. He decided to wave a taxi to get back home. "Echo Park Avenue, please," he said as he got into the cab.

"Really?" the cab driver asked. "That would be quite a pricey trip."

"Why, how far is it?" Billy asked.

"California," the driver said.

"Well, obviously," Billy said. "Echo Park Avenue is just around the corner from where I live. Why, where are we now?"

The driver turned around in his seat. "This is New York."

---

Barney stood up straight and smoothed out his now-wrinkled suit. Looking around, he seemed to be in some strange sort of amateur laboratory, possibly belonging to a high school or college science student. Still reeling, he examined the machine from which he just stumbled out. "Genetic Vortex?" he said to himself, reading a label on the side that seemed to be made out of duct-tape and sharpie. Before he had much of a chance to look around the room more, the front door opened and in came a sweaty looking kid.

"Got eight packs of 12," he said as he came into the room carrying a grocery bag. "Hey, nice suit."

"Thanks," Barney said with a proud smile. "It's a Giorgio Armani, tailored specifically for yours truly."

"So how'd the experiment go, doc?" he asked, unpacking what seemed to be frozen yogurt into the fridge.

"Doc?" Barney asked. He eyed the kid closely; he just bought almost a hundred tubs of frozen yogurt, he mistook Barney for a doctor, and he was clammy as hell. He was obviously tripping balls. Barney figured it would just be easier to play along. "Sure, it worked like a charm," he said, holding back a laugh.

"I figured it would," the boy said. "See, the freeze ray thing was just a fluke."

Freeze ray?, Barney thought. Whatever this kid was hitting must have been new-age and strong, but it gave him a great idea. "Listen, I'd love to stick around," he said, "but I got something I've got to take care of. Where's the nearest bar?"

"You're kidding, right?" the sweaty kid asked. "You feeling all right?"

"Yeah, sure," Barney said. "Nearest bar?"

"I guess that would be The Short Stop, just down the street."

"Thanks," Barney said, clapping a hand to the kid's shoulder and giving him a once over, trying to come up with a suitable nickname; he grinned thinking of his friend Lily, "Moist."