The Return of Hochstetter (or: How the Major Successfully Failed, Act III)
by 80sarcades


A/N: Special thanks to ColHogan for her spoken contribution in the last scene. Should I do the evil laughter bit now?

Sorry for the late update. The next installment won't be until Tuesday; my apologies for that as well! Enjoy the chapter!


Chapter 11: The Outtakes and Bloopers Reel.

[80sarcades enters, peeks around corner. No mad Kommandants are in sight]

"Ok, Wolf," I called. "You can come on out. She's not here."

Major Wolfgang Hochstetter walked onto the stage. "Do I look all right?" he asked. "We've only have a few minutes before they begin shooting…"

"They're on right now," I deadpanned, motioning towards the red light on top of the nearby camera.

"Oh…" The Major blushed, embarrassed, even as his hand quickly smoothed out his hair. When he was done, our smiles greeted the at-home audience.

"Hi there! I'm 80sarcades and this is Wolfgang Hochstetter," I began, gesturing toward my friend. "We'd like to welcome you to the blooper reel for The Return of Hochstetter! Since we only have two chapters besides this - the next one is the mob scene, by the way - we thought we'd show you some of the hilarious outtakes made in the making of this story."

Hochstetter took it from there. "We'd also like to thank the audience for staying with us through this story," he said. "Really, we've had all sorts of fun-"

He broke off his monologue as the sound of an engine echoed from somewhere offstage. We looked around for the source of the elusive noise but got nowhere. So much for being a closed set! I thought angrily.

Just then, a small moped roared out of stage left and schreeched to a stop beside us. The driver, a tall, thin black man - who suspiciously looked like Sheriff Bart from the movie Blazing Saddles - gave us a curious glance before he turned the sputtering engine off.

"Are one of you 80sarcades?" he asked.

"Well, that depends," I said. "If you're here to deliver a subpoena or paternity notice, then I've never heard of…who was it again?."

"I have a few telegrams for him," the man said.

"In that case, I'm 80sarcades."

Bart handed me a clipboard, three envelopes, and a pen. His finger pointed to a line on a receipt form. "Sign here," he told me.

I casually scribbled my name on the paper before taking a look at the first envelope. My eyes shot a disappointed glance at the other man.

"You sure there's nothing else that comes with it?" I asked. "No big honking checks from Publishers Clearing House, for instance?"

"Nope," Bart said cheerfully.

I muttered a few curses underneath my breath while my fingers tore into the envelope. The sender's name on the sheet inside caused me to smile.

"Hey, this one's from Sgt. Moffitt!" I exclaimed. "She's such a nice lady. Even if she is on this whole I-am-Kommandant-hear-me-roar power thing."

Hochstetter raised an eyebrow. "She made me into an Allied agent!" he exclaimed, frowning in disgust. "Isn't it bad enough that I have to play a Gestapo one?"

"Nobody's perfect," I countered, then looked back at the page. "Let's see…she wrote: Quit stalling my big scene, you lousy…" My voice trailed off into silence as I read the rest of the sentence.

I turned the telegram sideways, then back again. "Wow, look at that conjugation!" I blurted out, impressed. "I've never had anyone curse me out that way!" I sniffled, then wiped a tear away. "I'm so proud of her! I'll really have to try and remember that one the next time I'm thrown out of a bar!"

"Oh, please," Hochstetter scoffed. "You usually just make obscene hand gestures when that happens! And that's after the police get there!"

"Well, I said I would try," I dryly replied before I looked back at the messenger. "Can I send her a return telegram?"

"You sure can," he said. "With or without a bomb?"

"Bomb, please," I nodded.

"Would you like to try our new all-in-one plastic models?" he asked before handing me a list of the devices they carried. "They're guaranteed to take out the recipient plus their house. And then there's the atomic model; additional charges apply-"

"Nah," I interrupted. "Just a simple cartoon bomb with the standard lit fuse, please. And can you have it delivered by Foghorn Leghorn? I'm sure she'll appreciate the special touch!"

"Done, and done!" Bart said. "If I could just have your credit card and message you want to send…"

While he processed the payment, I hurriedly scrawled some words on a message form. The missive was brief and to the point:

To: Kommandant Sgt Moffitt c/o Hogans Mob

From: The elusive 80sarcades

Received your telegram [stop] Sending this with warmest regards [stop] Hope your day is a blast [stop]

80s

Once the transaction was completed, I eyed the second envelope. "Ok, let's try this one," I said, opening it. There were two sheets of paper inside.

"Let's see," I read aloud, "This telegram is from Hogan's Mob, aka: Jinzle, Marie1964, Crystal Rose of Pollux, Bits and Pieces, Justalittlehhfan, Hogan Macgyver, Sophia Villo, El Gringo Loco, Snooky-9093, Canadian Hogan's Fan, Chopstick Legend…etcetera, etcetera…. I turned to the second page. Immediately, a Jack O'Neill phrase came to mind.

"Oh, for crying out loud!" I exclaimed. "This page is full of nothing but curses! They're mad that I haven't gone to the next chapter yet!"

"Didn't you say the blooper reel would slow them down?" Hochstetter asked.

"Yeah," I replied, still indignant. "But I never expected them to track me down! Who are these people, the CIA?"

"Actually," Hochstetter said, pointing to a name on the list, "this one does work for the CIA. And that one works for the IRS."

"Really?" I asked, surprised. "Well, then! Guess I won't be making any jokes about those two agencies. You can, though; you're fictional."

"Thanks a lot!" the Major said, annoyed.

"And as for you!" I exclaimed, looking at Bart, "what sort of company delivers telegrams like these? I'm trying to keep this a curse-free story, and this isn't helping!" I waved the message around. Bart merely shrugged his shoulders.

"Don't forget about the third telegram." he said.

"Oh, yeah…" I hurriedly tore the envelope open. "This one's from ColHogan, and with no cursing," I said happily. "She wants to know why her Christmas present is on backorder. You know, the one from the last chapter? Well, I had to tell her something…"

"What do you mean?" Hochstetter inquired.

"Well," I began, "I told Colonel Hogan - the real one - that he had a hot date in the works. I played it up, you know: a candlelight dinner, soft music, an inviting couch…"

"So what went wrong?"

"Oh, everything," I replied. "London, as usual, came up with another sabotage-a-factory-now-or-else plan. Talk about ruining the moment! Fortunately, I was able to fix things," my voice confided. "I am an author, after all; we can do anything!"

The Major nodded in agreement. "So Hogan will have his date with…what was her name again?" he asked.

"ColHogan," I replied.

Hochstetter shuddered. I looked at him curiously. "What's wrong?" I asked.

"Believe me," he said, shaking his head, "this is one time I actually feel sorry for the real Colonel…"

"Hey, he's a survivor," I said, surprised. "I think he can handle himself without any problems."

"Actually," the Major snorted, "its how she handles him that worries me! She's-"

"Oh, I nearly forgot," Bart interrupted suddenly. "I have something else for you!" His hand drifted towards the front of his pants. "Excuse me while I whip it out…"

"Whoa, Whoa, WHOA!" I yelled, holding up my hands. "This is a clean comedy! And besides, we have ladies in the audience!" I looked down at the telegrams in my right hand. "Well, they're women, anyway," I allowed. "After seeing some of these curses, I'm not even sure that I can call them ladies anymore. Except for ColHogan, of course..."

Bart's hand froze, paper in hand. "You mean this?" he asked.

"Oh, sorry," I apologized before I snatched the paper from his hand, A grin crossed my face as I read the contents. "Hey, great news!" I happily shouted. "The first shipment of Heroes Gone Wild is on on the way!" As I looked up into the camera, my voice switched to a smooth pitchman's tone. "Yes, you've heard right, ladies!" I smilingly announced. "Now you can own your copy of Heroes Gone Wild, the behind-the-scenes DVD that takes an 'undercover' look at your favorite Heroes! Call now to reserve your copy on Blu-Ray or DVD for just-"

"Does everything have to be a shameless plug with you?" Hochstetter growled, interrupting. "There's more to life than money!"

"Says you," I countered, annoyed. "This from the guy that has his own lingerie line at Victoria's Secret. That one will give me nightmares for years!"

"And your deal with the U.S. Army?" Hochstetter challenged. "How many of those GoSlicer9000's did you sell to them anyway?"

"Well, just a few…" I allowed. Suddenly, a flashback appeared.

Why do I give myself these setups?

[flashback]

"We'd like to buy 500,000 units of those GoSlicer things," the two-star General in charge of Army Procurement stated. "How much would you like for each one?"

"The cost on each one is…let me see…" I played with a calculator, then made up a figure. "$299.29" I threw out. The General gasped.

"The one on TV was only $29.99!" she exclaimed.

"Sure, for the civilian version," I smoothly said. "This is the military one, with a laser scope, point-to-point targeting, and other fun stuff. You'll get more bang for your buck! Besides," I added, "you've got creative accountants. What's a few tax dollars among friends?"

[end flashback]

"Ok, so I sold more than a few!" I blurted. "So what's the problem?"

"You didn't cut me in!" Hochstetter yelled. "We agreed in advance: any money we made from saps would be shared equally!"

"Hey, I planned to share it with you," I shouted back. "Just as soon as I got to the beach in Tahiti! And you're one to talk about sharing! You've never shared anything from your lingerie setup! Not the outfits, nor the ladies that filled them out!"

"Why should I?" he yelled. "So far, you've had me eaten by Taz, crushed by a boulder, humiliated in front of a crowd, and dragged off in a straightjacket. And now you've cut me out of this DVD deal!"

"Well, I was going to include you in your very own title: Hochstetter Gone Wild," I fumed. "But you're too fat for it!"

"Why you…"

Sherriff Bart watched the two men fight it out on the stage before he turned to the unseen audience. He bowed gracefully before speaking.

"Nice to meet you, ladies," he said politely, tipping his hat. "While they're fighting, I'll just turn on this projector. Have a good day!"


:::start of blooper reel:::

[Chapter 3, Scene 1: The Other End of the Shotgun. (Wrong casting)]

How could it get any worse?

I froze as I heard a metallic click to my right. Without moving, I cut my eyes in that direction. To my horror, I saw the dark muzzles of two pistols pointed at my head.

I closed my eyes and waited for the inevitable blasts. Strangely, my mind was at peace before a gravelly voice interrupted.

"Now say your prayers, varmint!" it commanded.

Huh?

I cautiously opened my eyes to see Yosemite Sam standing there, an evil grin on his face.

"Varmint?" I croaked, my anger growing. "Varmint? Do I look like a 'Varmint' to you?" my voice yelled. " I don't even know what the heck that is!"

Sam lowered the pistols, an embarrassed look on his face. "Sorry about that, mister," he said in a normal tone. "For a minute there, I thought you were that rabbit!"

"Obviously not!" I growled, then looked around. Except for the two of us, there were no rabbits in sight. Wisecracking or otherwise. "I'm on the run from the SS and I nearly get killed by another American," I complained. "This is great! Just great!"

"Bring 'em on!" Sam yelled. "I'm the hootinist, tootinist, shootinist, bobtail wildcat in the west…"

"Shhh!" I pleaded, waving my hands. "Keep it down! The bad guys are nearby!" Unfortunately, the gunslinger was on a roll. His fingers pulled the triggers on the pistols, filling the forest with noise even as he continued to rant.

"…I'm the fastest gun north, south, east, and west of the Pecos! I'm a-warnin' you, stranger-"

A metallic click interrupted his yelling. We both turned to see a SS enlisted man leveling his weapon at us. He fired off some commands in German that weren't too hard to translate. As Sam dropped his guns, I glared at him.

"Now, you shut up…"

[end scene]


[New scene: Chapter 4, Scene 1 - Klink's Office]

"Come on, Kommandant," Hogan interjected in his usual calm voice. "He surrendered peacefully. Under the Geneva Convention, all he has to do is give you his name, rank and serial number. I'm sure he could tell you his home address, if you like."

I turned and glared at him. "Just what kind of man do you think I am?" I demanded, hands on my hips. "I don't go around giving my address to strange men; I have a reputation to protect! I-"

My voice trailed off in embarrassment as I belatedly remembered the correct answer. "Sorry!" I apologized. "With all the back and forth between chapters, I couldn't remember if I was a man or woman in this one," I said, shrugging in embarassment. "Guess I got carried away…"

Klink, meanwhile, gave me a confused look. I glanced over at the American Colonel.

"By the way," I began, "do you know if Newkirk has any good shades of lipstick handy? I'd like to be ready for when Hochstetter changes me in chapter seven. A girl just has to look her best when they take her off to prison, you know! Red will do, though; I'm not picky. Also, we'll have to talk dresses-"

"SCHULTZ!" Klink screamed; the portly guard lumbered in. "Take him…her…whatever to the cooler!" he ordered, his voice rising to a screech. "Get it out of here!"

More guards appeared. As Colonel Hogan protested, their strong arms grabbed me and began to drag me out of the office.

"Wait!" I screamed. "We haven't done the yellow brick road sequence yet. That's the best part…" My wails faded away as I was pulled outside. Klink looked at Hogan.

"Hogan, Hogan, Hogan," he said chidingly. "With more men like that in your army, Germany will win the war!"

"Don't blame him on me!" Hogan countered. "He's the one that flubbed up his lines…"

[end scene]


[New scene: Chapter 4, Scene 1 - Klink's Office]

"Move along, move along...to the cooler!" Klink yelled, his eyes flashing angrily as a hand pointed to the office door. "SCHULTZ!" he screamed.

Guess Klink isn't weak minded after all! Maybe I should try the Force grip...

(fifteen seconds later:)

"Oh, my God! You killed Klink!" Hogan cried out. "Now we're in for it!" Just then, Schultz came in; his mouth dropped open at the sight of the Kommandant's lifeless body on the wooden floor.

I peered over the desk. "Are you sure he's not a stunt double?" I asked.

[end scene]


[New Scene: Chapter 6, End of Scene 1 - Into The Tunnel]

"You sure you're all right?" ventured Newkirk cautiously, obviously wondering if I was bonkers. I nodded as I dropped the still-burning arrow to the floor before stomping it out with my shoe.

"I'd feel better if I had a beer," I joked.

"That, I can do," he answered. With practiced ease, he used a churchkey to open a can of beer. The glass he poured it in was dirty, but I didn't care. When he was finished, I grabbed it and took a long swig…

…only to spit the contents back out onto the tunnel floor. "This is awful!" I said, gagging as I tried to remove the taste from my mouth. "Is this your idea of a joke?"

The Heroes - except for Carter, who had a confused look on his face - began to laugh. "Now we're even, mate," Newkirk said, chuckling. "That's what your Army calls Near-Beer," he explained. "We call it flavored water. Not even the Krauts will drink that!"

By that point, I had recovered. That is, if your idea of recovery is to have the taste of stale cigarette butts and moldy beer in your mouth. "Okay, you got me!" I said; a dry chuckle escaped my lips. "So where's the real beer?"

"Can't help you there, mate," he said in all seriousness. "Nearest one's in Hammelburg."

"D'oh!"

[end scene]


[New Scene: Chapter 7, Scene 3 - Not Again!]

In desperation, I lunged my arm though the bars hoping to knock the computer out of his grasp. Unfortunately for me, I came up short. A familiar ripple signaled that my body was changing. My hands were graceful and feminine; the uniform I wore was now a…

little black dress?

I looked down in utter horror at my new outfit. Especially at the short skirt.

Hochstetter, meanwhile, let out a long wolf whistle while I clamped my now-bare legs together. "I want my WAC uniform NOW!" I demanded of the drooling Major. "And stop trying to look up my skirt, you PERVERT!"

[end scene]


[New Scene: Chapter 8, Scene 2 - Mob Rule, Obama's Choice]

(original scene deleted due to time restrictions)

(A/N: Several people commented on a particular scene in this chapter. It was too good to pass up)

(cut to boxing arena)

"…and in this corner!" the voice boomed, "Weighing in at 192 pounds! We have the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Army Ranger and member of the 1979 Armed Forces Boxing Championship Team, General Bob Crane!"

(Loud cheers and yells from the Army section of the audience before the loudspeaker goes off again. A Navy officer, a Lieutenant Commander, stands at the mike)

"And in this corner!" he yelled, waving his hand in that direction. "Weighing in at 184 pounds! The Vice-Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff! A man that the bookies say has a strong shot to win! Heeres…General Ivan Dixon!"

(Not to be outdone, the Air Force outcheers the Army section. The Army section of the stands boos the Air Force. The Navy and Marine Corps contingents laugh at the both of them)

The referee - a Marine - called both fighters to the center of the ring.

"All right, sirs," the Master Sergeant said, "I want a good, clean fight. However, sirs," he added, "since you outrank me, I can't tell you what to do. Just promise me that the winner will stand up for me at the court martial. Now, GO GET 'EM!" he yelled, then stepped back.

The bell rang, starting the fight.

Both fighters, obvious to the cheers from the crowd, looked at each other for a long moment. Suddenly, each man spoke the other's first name at the same time.

"Ivan…"

"Bob…"

The Vice-Chairman waved his hand. "You go first," he shrugged. "You outrank me."

"Listen," General Crane began, "I had some time to think about all this. We've got bigger problems in the world than just us. Sure, America kicked Osama's butt. On the other hand, there's going to be some joker out there who thinks he can pull a fast one on the United States."

"Ain't that the truth," the other General noted. He looked around the arena, then sighed heavily. "You going to apologize?"

"Hell, no!" Crane said. "The Army never apologizes for anything. On the other hand, I'd like to say that I've never had any problems working with the Air Force. Even if they are a bunch of flyhead prima donnas. You?"

General Dixon snorted. "Well, ice will form in hell before I ever apologize to the Army for anything. Still, in the past our services have worked together. It can be that way again, even if you all are nothing more than a bunch of dog-ugly ground pounders."

"Works for me," the Chairman said, letting the insult fly by.

"Me, too," the Vice-Chairman said. They smiled at each other.

"So, what now?" Dixon asked.

"I don't know," his superior answered. "I came here geared up to kick Air Force butt. Not sure what to do, now."

"You're not the only one," General Dixon commented. "I was so going to knock you around the ring. My chance for glory!"

"Fat chance!" Crane laughed. "I've got a better solution, though: if we're not going to punch each other, then lets compromise. We'll beat up the Navy!"

"Great idea!" the Vice-Chairman said. "We can start with that annoying Commander that was announcing the fight! But what about the bets we put on our names? We'll lose money there."

"Not to worry," General Crane said. "The bookies had 'Riot' listed as 350 to 1, so I put a wad on that. I guess they figured they'd never have to pay out if there were two four-star Generals around. I'll split the pot with you. And, I call the first punch!

"You're on!" General Dixon.

What followed, short of actual war, was the greatest melee in United States Armed Forces history. And the winner was the…

(disclaimer: None of the Armed Services - U.S. Army, Air Force, Navy, or Marines - took any part in the making of this scene. I disclaim all knowledge of it. Therefore, don't beat me up.)

[end scene]


[New Scene: Chapter 9, Scene 1 - The Trial, Part One. Thought sequence cut]

"I know," the Major shuddered. "You remember that fight I had with Wardrobe earlier? All because they wanted to make a 'minor' correction to my costume?" His face grimaced as he remembered. "I don't mind wearing the black uniform; it's a part of my character. But I will not wear what that one author thought up!" he exclaimed angrily. "She thought lacy panties, along with a satin and lace bustier, would have looked good underneath my outfit! What were they thinking? I'm a man, after all!"

"Well, you gotta admit that the white and powder blue colors did go with your eyes when you tried them on," I pointed out. "And I didn't see you get rid of them, either! Maybe you should have tried on the matching garter belt and stockings for the full effect..."

Wolf was not amused at my attempts to soothe him.

Oh, please! I thought, somewhat annoyed. You kept the lingerie anyway! Especially after you whirled around and asked me if your butt looked too big in you new outfit! And you still have the nerve to complain…

[end scene]


[New Scene: Chapter 10: The Trial, Part Two. Scene 3 - Deleted Scene]

Any fanfiction I wrote wouldn't change things; the series never ended with the Heroes being liberated. I couldn't do anything to change the show in a major way, either. That would be tragic! Still, I realized that I could do something in this universe. The original writers might not like it, but who cared?

So why not? Should be interesting…

My fingers began to type away as Hogan looked on, puzzled. "What's going on?"he asked. For a brief moment, I felt like I was Flynn in Tron. Ah, the power of the users...

"Just a little parting gift," I explained.

(a day later: morning roll call)

"REPOOOOORT," Klink shouted as he exited the Kommandantur.

Even as the word escaped his lips, the Luftwaffe Colonel noticed the bare ground in front of Barracks Two. For a moment, he stood there on the porch, stunned.

This has never happened before! he furiously thought.

His monocle then eyed the quivering Sergeant of the Guard. The silence from the compound only served to increase Klink's anger; he stepped off of the porch and quickly walked towards the soon-to-be-private.

"SCHUUULTZ!" he yelled. "Where are the prisoners from Barracks Two?" he demanded to know. "Where is Colonel Hogan?"

"Herr Kommandant," Schultz blubbered. "I beg…I beg to report that.." His voice trailed off into nothingness.

Klink stopped only inches from the nervous Sergeant. As usual, getting anything coherent out of the man was next to impossible.

The German Colonel shook his right fist in frustration. "Oh, SHUT UP!" he ordered, bypassing Schultz to find out the truth. As he neared the barracks door, it opened onto an impossible scene. For the second time that night, Klink's jaw dropped in shock.

Hogan, followed by a lady in a somewhat revealing silver costume, walked through the narrow doorway and onto the compound. The nearby guards both gaped and leered at the same time. Just where did she come from? they collectively wondered.

"Kommandant!" Hogan said, smiling. "Allow me to introduce Denise; she plays the third act at Trump Plaza in Atlantic City. Denise," he gestured, "this is Kommandant Klink."

"I'm pleased to meet you," the woman said, giving the German Colonel a sweet smile. "I understand I have you to thank for my meeting Robert...er, Colonel Hogan," she went on. "He told me you let him come see me perform at the Trump. He also told me how you gave him a backstage pass so he could meet me."

Klink, for his part, numbly shook her proffered hand; his lips flapped back and forth soundlessly as he tried to figure out what was going on.

"If you don't mind," Colonel Hogan continued. "I'd like to walk her home, maybe talk for a while, have a nightcap, and…well, sir," he said smugly, "you know how those things go. And…"

Denise leaned over and whispered something into Hogan's ear. To the amazement of the onlooking guards, much less the Kommandant, the American Colonel actually blushed.

"That," he dryly commented, "may take a while. On the other hand, I'm up to it…"

"But how…" Klink stammered, finally finding his voice. "How…where…"

"That's a good question, Kommandant," Hogan said. "It all started with this guy and his laptop…"

[end scene]

:::end blooper reel:::


A/N: I really couldn't resist the idea of a blooper reel. Again, thanks to ColHogan for her speaking contribution! Annie…er, Denise…really did get her gun in this one. Or, at the very least, a pair of bird eagles…

Next: Chapter 12 - What Mob?