Troy was still wearing his blue Greendale Human Beings jersey, which was soaked in sweat. He propped his elbows on the cold metal bleachers behind him. The stadium audience was sparse. The bleachers, a small twenty row construction, was only half full, and more than half of that were supporters of the City School of Barbers Hairmen. "I am so glad you made the game," Troy said. "Can't say you missed anything, though. The first half was pretty much a blow out."

"No problem," said Abed. "The Greendale Idol ended fifteen minutes ago, and it's only a short walk to the field."

Troy pointed to the trophy beside Abed. "Best Overall Performance in a Musical Duet?" Troy asked.

Abed nodded. "I am the Greendale Idol."

"Nice. I don't mind singing to mice, but performing in front of an audience gives me stage fright."

"We passed it around and drank champagne," Abed said. "The non-alcoholic kind. I think they put regulations on alcohol consumption at school functions after what went down at the STD fair. Also, we used paper cups out of concern over swine flu. Here, I saved you a bottle." He retrieved a large bottle he'd stuffed in his backpack and handed it to Troy.

"Tight," Troy said, popping open the top of the bottle. "I don't mind saying that I am damn thirsty." He down a heavy swig of non-alcoholic sparkling champagne.

"Hey, aren't you supposed to be out on the field?" Jeff asked. Troy turned his head. Sitting behind them were Jeff, Annie, Pierce, and Britta, and Shirley, who was waving a tiny "Greendale" pennant.

"Defense is on the field," Troy said. "And with the way the Hairmen are drawing penalties, I figure I don't need to be in the game ten ... fifteen minutes tops. Hey, I thought Abed won that contest. What's that ribbon for?"

"It says, 'Mr. Photogenic,'" said Jeff, looking down at the ribbon pinned on his shirt.

"I won 'Mr. Can-Do Attitude,' whatever that means," said Pierce.

"I figure everyone who showed up deserved a small prize," explained Annie. "It came with a $5 gift certificate to Applebee's."

The crowd suddenly sprung to life with a mix of cheers and boos… mostly boos. Troy left out of his seat, grabbing the helmet that had been on the bench next to him. "Fumble," Troy said. "About time! Alright, guys, I'm about to lead the Human Beings to victory. See you guys after the game." He rushed out onto the field, chanting, "HUUUUman BEEEEinngs!" with his teammates. "Put your hands in the air and eave 'em like you just don't care!" Troy added.

"A fumble," Jeff tried to explain to a confused Annie, "is when one team drops the ball and the opposing team recovers."

Pierce leaned over to Britta. "So," he said suggestively, "I hear you're into multiple husbands."

Britta shot Pierce and incredulous glance. "What."

"I'm just saying," continued Pierce, "that maybe, for the sake of variety, you might want to look into a guy who's more mature. Experienced. Able to help you forge connections in the business world. That sort of thing."

Abed mercifully interrupted him. "Troy's going to go for the quarterback sneak," he said.

"What?" Jeff replied. "At first and ten in the opposing team's zone? Ridiculous."

On the field, Troy caught the snap, then faked a throw to his wide receiver. He then tucked the ball in the crook of his elbow and plunged forward for a gain of fifteen yards.

"You see," Abed said, "the Human Beings have no option at running back, and their wide receivers are mediocre at best. Most quarterbacks coming from the high school level are also statistically good at doubling as a running back. In addition, you'll notice that no one on the Hairmen defensive line weighs more than 150 lb. Get past them and all you have to deal with is the secondary. It was the easiest play to make."

"Abed, my friend," said Jeff, "I think there's a trip to Caesar's Palace in our future."

Annie leaned over to Jeff and whispered something in his ear. Jeff was taken aback at first. "Serious?" he asked. Annie nodded with a tight smile. Jeff furrowed his brow. "That," he said, smirking, "sounds like a good idea."

"So," Annie said, standing up, "we're going to the concession stand. Is there ... anything anyone wants?"

"I will have ... nachos!" said Pierce.

"I could use a hamburger," said Shirley. "I am feeling kinda hungry."

"Water, I guess," said Britta, half-wondering if she'd end up dumping it all over Pierce's head before the day was through.

"Hot dog," said Abed. He raised a finger. "But only if it's halal. More for the taste than for any cultural or religious ramifications."

"OK!" said Annie hurriedly, grabbing Jeff's hand. "We'll be back in, oh, twenty minutes." They headed down the bleachers and headed in the direction of the cafeteria, which doubled as the concession stand at game time.

Shirley followed them with their eyes, then scooted near to Abed's spot. "So, Abed," Shirley asked conspiratorially once the couple were out of sight, "what do you think those two are up to?"

"Well, in a fan fiction ----" Abed stopped. He pursed his lips while an intense look came over his eyes. He thought about it for a second, then turned back to Shirley. "Jeff will most likely get the 16-oz. dark chocolate mocha and a scone, and Annie will probably get a fish sandwich."

Shirley stared at him. "And---?"

"And that's all," Abed lied.

"That's all?"

"There may be french fries involved." Abed flashed a smile so briefly that Shirley wondered if perhaps she imagined it.

"Well," said Shirley, huffily, "you're no fun."

At the Joe training facility, located many miles underground, the latest in holographic imaging technology creates illusions to forestall claustrophobia. Right now, it was set to resemble a small football field. It was after hours, and only two figures were there: Snake Eyes, in his causal wear of stylish and expensive clothes, and the Baroness, still wearing her hospital gown. They'd snuck out of the medical facility, which was no problem for a master ninja.

Finally, after all this time, they were alone. The Baroness ran her hands through Snake Eyes' rugged blonde hair. Then they locked lips with Snake Eyes under the glow of the stadium lights, or the illusion of stadium lights.

"What are you thinking?" said the ninja.

The Baroness flashed him a seductive sidelong glance. "It's always been my fantasy to make out with the hot jock behind the concession stand," she said sultrily.

They kissed again. And yes, it was hot.

THE END