"This better not take long," Virginia said as they sat down across from Decker's desk in his office at the Federal Building, "We're late for a party."

Decker was unfazed as he nonchalantly told them, "It will take as long as it will take to run your fingerprints and find out who you are."

"That's me," Tommy said as he pointed a thumb towards himself.

Riddles, that's all he'd been getting out of these three nuts since they got loaded up into the back of an MP car and brought here, nothing but damn riddles.

Decker looked at Virginia who was seated straight across from him and asked, "What is your name, Miss?"

"That's right," she said.

"What's right?" he asked.

"Yep," she said, "What is my name."

Decker glared at her, "That's what I'm asking you."

"Well that's what I'm telling you," Virginia told him.

"What is?" Decker asked.

"That's right," she said.

Decker grumbled and rubbed his eyes. He pointed to Tommy and asked Virginia, "What is his name?"

"No, What is my name," Virginia answered defensively.

Decker groaned, this was going to be a long night. He forced himself to maintain a neutral look and he asked them, pretty confident he already had the answer, "You all wouldn't happen to be related, would you?"

"Oh sure," they answered.

"Well that just figures," he dryly remarked. He looked to Tommy and said, "Tell me your brother's name."

"Where," he said.

"Over here," Decker pointed at Jimmy.

"Where," Tommy said.

Decker grumbled under his breath, then turned to Jimmy and asked him, "You tell me his name."

"Who," Jimmy said.

"The man sitting two spaces away from you," Decker said, starting to lose his patience.

"Who," Jimmy repeated.

Decker was just about to lose it. He shot up from his chair and to his feet and went around the desk and hovered over Tommy, "State your name."

"Who," Tommy answered.

"Your name," Decker said.

"Who," Tommy parroted, though he seemed to sink lower in his chair every time Decker asked him. And Decker took notice and hovered lower to match with him.

"I want to know your name!" Decker told him.

"Who," Tommy said.

Decker was just about to see red. He stepped over towards Virginia who crossed her legs and placed her hands on her hips and showed no sign of cowering in his presence.

"Alright, we're going to try this again," he said, "State your name."

"What," V.C. said.

"Give me your name!" Decker told her.

"What!" she replied, mocking him.

"Then tell me his name," Decker pointed to Tommy.

"Who," she said.

Decker knew it was going to be a while before they got anything back on the prints, meaning this was going to be an even longer night. He decided to take a different approach.

"Are you working with the A-Team?" he wanted to know.

"Who?" Jimmy asked.

"Huh?" Tommy turned to his brother.

"What's the A-Team?" Jimmy asked.

"No, What is my name," Virginia reminded him.

"You don't really expect I'm too stupid to not know you know who the A-Team is, do you?" Decker asked them.

"Huh?" they all asked, sounding genuinely and equally confused by his question.

"A-Team?" Virginia repeated, "Never heard of them."

"Ain't no such animal," Jimmy added.

"No vegetable or mineral either," Tommy said.

"If you're not working with the A-Team," Decker said, "Why are you wearing those uniforms?"

They looked down at their Green Beret uniforms as if they had just realized they were wearing them. Looking back up at Decker Virginia told him, "I told you we were on our way to a party."

"A costume party," Jimmy explained.

"You really think I'm going to believe that?" Decker asked.

"It's in Hollywood, what do you expect?" Tommy asked.

"And why would you be going there?" he asked.

Tommy stood up and stared Decker down and asked him defensively, "What's the matter, is there a reason we shouldn't? Did somebody declare Beverly Hills a gook-free zone when we weren't looking?"

"Now look—" Decker started to say, but was quickly cut off.

Tommy grabbed him by his jacket and the others stood up and crowded in on him.

"Now you look, Birdman," Tommy said, noting the eagle on Decker's cap, and he flicked the colonel's nose, "My daddy didn't come into this country so that 20 years later we could take flack from the likes of you, you don't no more put out signs saying 'Irish need not apply' 'Jews forbidden from using this pool' or 'Blackie go back to Africa', so you sure as hell ain't gonna tell us where we can and can't go in this city. I don't care how big your bird is or how many stripes you got, even the President don't got the power to try pushing us into our place."

Virginia pushed her way beside her brother and into Decker's face and added, "And for your information, we're attending because we work there," she pointed to Tommy and said, "He's one of the best stuntmen there is."

Decker managed to break loose from Tommy's grip and established some room between them and he turned to Jimmy and asked, "And you?"

"I work in sound effects," Jimmy said.

Decker turned to Virginia and added, "And you?"

"I'm a makeup artist," Virginia said with a big smile, "I do everybody's makeup for the nude scenes."

Decker half choked at that answer and turned around to face his desk for a moment as he tried to make heads or tails out of this fine mess.

"So what was this thing you were talking about earlier," Tommy asked, "What's that?"

"The A-Team," Decker turned around to them, "Are three commandos from one of the best units in 'Nam."

Tommy guffawed, "Those bozos come over to our motherland, napalm the daylights out of us, and you think we're going to help somebody like that? Now why would we do something that stupid?" He leaned in towards Decker and asked him, "Ain't you heard the stereotype? Asians are supposed to be smart."

Virginia wandered around towards the walls and asked, "These pictures of you in your prime?" she scoffed and said, "Warn't much then either, were you? Hmmmm…" she studied some of the pictures closer and asked Decker, "How is it you never got promoted above the rank of colonel? You screw up somewhere? Course I suppose if you did that, you would've been dishonorably discharged…or was it court martialed? Oh well…"

Jimmy turned to Decker and said, "Wait a minute…I think I heard about you…" a look of recognition came over him and he said, "Ohhhh yeah…you were the one who got knocked back because of all the people you murdered over in Vietnam, that's why you never got promoted."

"And what," Virginia asked, "Finding the A-Team's going to do something to help that? More likely they're the ones who helped him."

"Don't make me laugh," Decker told them, "They're fugitives."

"Ah and of course catching them would do wonders for your political career," Jimmy said.

"Pity," Virginia shook her head, "I'm sure you wouldn't be interested in a real military case that could boost your popularity with the Generals."

Decker looked to her and asked, "What do you mean by that?"

Virginia looked at him coyly and without missing a beat she asked him, "What's a big time war General want with some two bit hood who hires rejects from the army's banana boat psycho ward to go in dressed as Green Berets to assault private residents in their own homes to drive them out so he can take control of the property?"

Now she had Decker's attention. Without even considering the possibility that she could be giving him the runaround he asked her, "What are you talking about?"

"Does the name General Stockwell mean anything to you?" Virginia asked.

"Hannibal," Face leaned over to the front seat and asked the Colonel, "Is there a reason we've been waiting out here for an hour while Dahlberg's been in there with Ging this whole time?"

After a short while they'd managed to catch up with Dahlberg's car and followed him out to an empty part of town that was largely abandoned warehouses and vacant lots. They'd seen him head in one of the old buildings that looked like it had been shut down for years, and they'd seen another car parked by, and some lights on inside, so they knew he'd been meeting with somebody, and second in command to the General in charge seemed like the best bet at the moment.

Hannibal didn't turn to look at his Lieutenant, just stared straight ahead as he took out a new cigar, bit down on it and lit it, "Need a plan, kid."

"I told you he didn't have a full one," Jean told Murdock.

"That's not it," Hannibal told her, raising only his eyes as if he could look back at her, "Need a different plan."

"How come?" B.A. asked.

"Because," Jean said with a huff as she leaned over to the front seat and stared at the back of Hannibal's head, "This time you're not going after some power hungry cop or a big shot gangster or a self proclaimed prophet or even a SWAT Team member…you're going up against the Army, a General of all people, if he was in Vietnam he no doubt knows how Hannibal works…he'll know your front door approach."

"Could be," Hannibal replied dismissively as he blew smoke, "Whether Stockwell's in with them or not, these guys aren't going to jump just because we bust in and let off a few rounds and make our point."

"You know what your problem is, Hannibal," Jean said as she leaned over towards him, "You're too good, and everybody knows it, everybody who's ever dealt with you knows how you work."

"Oh yeah?" he asked, "How do you figure that, kid?"

"Very easily," Jean answered, "Everybody knows that you cannot be bought, you won't even act like you can be to gain access, you stand your ground and make your point that you're untouchable where bribes are concerned. They also know that you'll go out of your way to avoid killing somebody and would only do it as a last resort, something that really hasn't happened since you got out of the jungle back in 'Nam."

"Could be," Hannibal repeated without any emotion as he seemed to consider that fact.

"You want to take these guys by surprise, you're going to have to come up with something new to use on them," Jean said.

"True," Hannibal said as he took his lighter out and played with the lever, starting a flame and then letting it die out and then starting it again.

Everybody watched him, waiting to see what his next move was, but there didn't seem to be any.

"Well?" Face finally asked, unable to take the suspense any longer.

Hannibal killed the flame once again and said to B.A., "Get us out of here, find a place we can park for the night and get some sleep, I'm going to need some time to think on this."

"But Hannibal," Face started to say.

"We've got Dahlberg's car bugged, he's not smart enough to figure out he's been followed," Hannibal pointed out, "If he tries leaving in the night we'll still be able to track him. Besides, as late as it is now, if we're going to go after these guys and hit them hard, we're going to need to be fresh for it." He turned towards the Sergeant and said, "B.A."

B.A. did as he was told, though even he was having a bad feeling about this. Usually it didn't take Hannibal any time to come up with a plan, and it didn't usually take this long to come up with a good one either. But aside from Lynch, Decker and the MPs they didn't make a habit of going up against the Army either, and they were starting to wonder if maybe this time they'd bitten off enough to choke on.

"Are you sure about this, Hannibal?" Face asked when they finally found a place to stop for the night.

"Yes," he replied, sounding like an annoyed father whose child kept trying to sneak out of bed, "Now go to sleep."

Hannibal waited until the other four occupants of the van were asleep, and then he got out to walk around and think. Jean was right, they were going to have to do something different this time for a plan to work. He'd scout around the area so he knew the territory, that would help some so they could get in and out with as little trouble as possible. But that still left the issue of just exactly how they were going to get in and take over. He turned to the side in his seat and looked at the three people asleep behind him; he looked at Jean and thought about what she'd said earlier, and he got an idea!

"I don't know who's crazier," Decker grumbled to himself, "Those three for coming up with that story about a general, or me for listening to it."

Half an hour ago Crane had come in with the report that no matches were made with the fingerprints they'd taken from the three siblings they'd brought in earlier that night. It killed Decker to have to let them go but at least he didn't have to see them anymore; never in his whole life, not even with his constant run-ins with the A-Team before they made a prompt getaway, was he ever so tempted to just go over the edge and completely lose his mind.

Those three were nothing if not infuriating, almost, Decker thought, as bad as Smith's typical calm and collective demeanor. After the conversation he just went through with those goons though, Decker couldn't be sure either way whether they were working with the A-Team or not, and if they were not, then maybe there was some credibility to what they'd told him, but if they were…

His thoughts were interrupted by a knocking on his door, Crane entered and said, "Colonel…"

"What is it, Crane?" he asked.

"A couple of MPs reported they found an old man sneaking around outside, thought it might be one of Smith's disguises so they're bringing him in," Crane answered.

Decker nodded slowly, not really paying too much attention, "Fine, have them bring him in here."

"Yes sir," Crane said as he closed the door behind him.

Now what would Smith be doing around here? Decker wondered as he scratched a patch of hair on the back of his head. The A-Team had gotten away, and if…ah ha…so they were working with the A-Team after all. Well, Decker thought with a grin, maybe this night wasn't going to be a total washout after all.

Down the hall he could hear the man protesting as he was being brought in, Decker opened his door and watched as two MPs escorted the old man inside.

"Get your hands off me," he said, "I don't understand what's going on, where are we going? Don't touch me," he smacked one of the MP's hands away and told him, "I don't know where your hands have been!"

Decker felt his hand smack the top of his hat, the old man looked like he was somewhere between 70 and 115, he had short white hair, tiny spectacles, and a very thin body, too thin to be Smith unless he went on a crash diet since the last time they'd met, which Decker thought was extreme even for Smith, this had to be the real thing.

"You idiots," he said to the MPs, "This isn't Smith."

"Again with this Smith!" the old man said, "All night long all I've heard is Mr. Smith, Mr. Smith…tomorrow I'm changing my name so even I don't know what it is. Ooh!"

Decker was able to see now that the man's face and clothes were dirty like he'd been tackled to the ground, and he seemed to have some bruises right under his hairline.

"What happened to him?" Decker demanded to know.

"Vandals! Hooligans!" the old man said as he dragged one foot behind him and made his way to the closest chair and collapsed, "There was a whole army of them, ooh it was ugly, no place for women or children…or me for that matter, oooohh!"

"Crane," Decker said, "Get a doctor up here to examine this man."

"Right away, Colonel," the captain said as he and the MPs quickly exited the office.

Hector turned in his seat so Decker wouldn't see him laughing. He reached his hands out to a wine decanter on the desk that was filled with water and tried pouring himself a drink, but for dramatic effect he made his hands shake and spilled some of the water over Decker's papers. Decker insisted on assisting the old man and poured a glass for him.

"Oh thank ye, sonny," he said tiredly, "I really appreciate it."

"On behalf of my men I'd like to apologize for the treatment you received tonight, sir," Decker said.

"That's treatment?" he asked, "What's the disease?"

"Sir, can you tell me your name?" Decker asked, wondering if there was any family for this guy they needed to notify to pick him up.

"My name is Hector," he said with an unusual smile, accompanied by one eye that was starting to roll in his head, "Hector Munroe."

"That's fine," Decker said.

Hector glanced down at the paper Decker was writing on and added straight faced, "My friends call me Saki."

Decker stopped writing and looked up at Hector, who just laughed in return. Decker sighed and decided to try another approach, "Sir, do you have a wallet on you?"

"I knew it!" Hector said as he got up from his seat, "A holdup man!" He threw himself on the floor under Decker's desk and added, "Don't shoot, I'll come peacefully."

"Sir," Decker looked down at the figure lying flat on the floor, "Will you stand up?"

Hector stopped shaking and slowly got to his feet and asked, "What kind of third degree is this?"

"I don't give third degrees," Decker told him.

"Oh, stingy," Hector replied.

Oh brother, Decker thought, instead of family maybe they ought to call all the local loony bins and retirement homes to see if they were missing anybody.

Hector sat back down and laid his forearms on the desk and rested his head on his arms, and put on a good show of being 'out of it'.

The door opened again and Crane said, "Colonel, the doctor's on his way."

"Fine," Decker went over to him, "Also see if you can get a hold of any of the local mental hospitals or rest homes and see if they've had any old men come up AWOL recently."

"Fathead."

"What did you say?" Decker asked.

Crane shook his head, "I didn't say anything, Colonel."

Decker turned back to the old man who had fallen asleep leaning on the desk. At this rate, Decker thought, maybe he ought to see that doctor as well.

"Nimrod."

Decker spun on his heel and looked back to the old man again, he hadn't moved a single muscle; Decker went around the desk to see him better, the old man was dead to the world. He didn't get it.

The next morning, Hannibal got everybody up and ran his new plan by them that had come to him in the middle of the night. He had guessed at the time what their reactions would be when he told them, and now that it had happened, he was amused to find he hadn't been far off.

"Hannibal, this is the worst plan you've come up with yet!" Face said.

"Man finally done lost his mind," B.A. said.

Jean just shook her head in mild disbelief and said, "Wow."

A rarity, Murdock was furious.

"Hannibal, you can't do it," he told the Colonel, "You can't do it like that…if you've got to do it, then use me, but don't put Jean in the middle of this."

"I'm sorry, Murdock, but my hands are tied," Hannibal said as he shrugged helplessly.

"Speak for yourself," Jean replied.

"It's going to have to be this way in order for us to pull it off," Hannibal told everyone, "Now last night I did some checking, and taking the back alley behind the building that we saw Dahlberg head to last night, is a narrow path leading out to the middle of nowhere, we're talking about possibly five square miles of vacant land with no neighbors or sign of civilization around."

"Right, so what's out there?" Face asked.

"I'm coming to that," Hannibal explained, "Now, out in that middle of nowhere, there's one very well kept up split-level house, all around the place is nothing but a dirt road that has a lot of recent tire tracks coming in and going out of there, and behind that house after a few hundred yards, you come to an old pump, from there you can't be seen from the house."

"Unless they've got cameras scanning the place," B.A. pointed out.

"Which is why," Hannibal remarked, "Our first move is going to be to take out the power…a house in the middle of nowhere, it shouldn't be hard spotting those wires, or that backup generator."

Murdock and Jean looked at each other as they considered what they'd just been told, and Jean shrugged her shoulders and said to Murdock, "Guess it's too late to take a vote on the matter…" she turned back to Hannibal and told him, "Alright, if we're going to do this, then let's get on with it. I don't mind dying but I hate the waiting process."

Hannibal smiled at her and said, "That's the spirit."

Once they were able to take down the powerlines, Hannibal figured getting onto the property would be a breeze, especially if they happened to be driving a customized armored bus. That was definitely one for the books in the way of 'things the bad guys never saw coming'.

"Alright," he said as they came to a stop, "Everybody remember your part."

"Easy for you to say," Jean said as she held up her rope-bound wrists, "All I have to do is go out there and croak."

"Alright everybody, get in place," Hannibal said as he went over to her and grabbed her by the arms.

The back exit of the bus was thrown open and Face, Murdock and B.A. got off first, guns in hand and ready to go at a moment's notice. Hannibal was the next one off and he noticed the first few people who had come outside to find out what the hell was going on, and he called to them and said, "Tell your boss to get out here right now…otherwise…" He reached up and pulled Jean off of the bus and revealed her wearing an oversized Green Beret uniform with her hands tied together, "He's going to have a nice young lady's blood on his hands."

"You've finally gone and lost your damn mind," Jean told him.

"Be quiet."

Hannibal looked and saw the same men return, but this time there was someone else with them.

"So you're Ging," Hannibal addressed the 40-something year old man who had brownish red hair and a small mustache to match, in some way the man reminded Hannibal of Lynch…in a previous life maybe.

"And you must be Hannibal Smith," he replied.

"Ah, how'd you guess?" Hannibal asked with some amusement.

"I have my ways."

"You mean your old buddy Hunt Stockwell?" Face asked.

Ah ha…Ging hadn't been expecting that, and it showed on his face.

"Incidentally is the good General here?" Hannibal inquired.

"What's it to you?" Ging asked.

"It's a lot to me," Hannibal replied short-temperedly, "As well as this woman here," and shoved Jean forth so he could see her better. "Claims that she doesn't work for anybody here but given your recent line of employees, why else would she be dressed like this?"

Jean managed to keep her balance and turned around and told Hannibal, "You're out of your damn mind, old man."

Hannibal shook his head slowly and ominously towards her, "You're going to wish you hadn't said that," and he came at her in two steps and backhanded her across the face loud enough for people in China to hear.

Jean reeled back but maintained her balance and remarked, "Eh you can do better than that, my old man used to hit me harder than that."

That also was clearly the wrong thing to say, Hannibal came up to her and punched her hard enough to knock her flat on the ground.

"Any other words?" he asked.

Jean coughed and choked as she tried to get up, but at best all she could do was turn from one side to the other. She lay back against the dirt ground and said only, "You ain't gonna do it…everybody knows you'd never shoot somebody."

Hannibal pulled a gun out of his jacket pocket and aimed it at her. "You want a bet?"

"Hannibal, what the hell are you doing?" Face asked, looking like he was about to have kittens.

Murdock was wide eyed and about jumped on the Colonel, "Have you lost your mind?"

Hannibal just chuckled grimly and asked, "Hasn't everybody?" He cocked back the hammer and aimed at Jean's chest, "Say goodnight, kid."

Jean lay flat against the ground and held her chin high to give him better access to her chest and said, "If you're really gonna do it, then do it you psycho," through gritted teeth she added, "Go ahead and shoot!"

Hannibal looked down at her, his gun aimed at her chest, and he didn't move a muscle for several seconds as he seemed to consider it. Finally he said lowly, "Gladly," and pulled the trigger.

'The shot heard round the world' seemed like a fitting expression here, there wasn't anybody on the land who didn't hear the shot. Murdock screamed like a banshee and tried to lunge at Hannibal, but Face grabbed hold of him and restrained him. Jean's chest had exploded in a pool of blood and her head remained tilted to one side in her last movement alive; now it slumped to the side and her eyes were stuck half closed, her bound hands still clutched against her abdomen. Murdock collapsed against the Lieutenant, one hand clutched against his mouth to stifle his hysterical sobs. Hannibal turned to the direction the sound was coming from and he walked over to them with his gun raised like a blackjack and he came up to the two men and said, getting ready to swing it, "Shut up, Captain!"

Face and Murdock both took a step back from him, their eyes wide in shock and disbelief.

"Now get her out of my sight," Hannibal told them.

"W-wh-where're we supposed to put her?" Face managed to ask.

Hannibal pointed to the grounds beyond the house, "Take her out back and bury her," he repositioned the gun in his hand so it pointed to the stunned men standing by the porch and added, "And if any of you tries to follow them, you'll get it too."

Of them all, Ging looked the most like he was about to drop dead of a heart attack. "What the hell did you do?!" he demanded to know.

Hannibal shrugged as though he didn't understand what the big deal was and said, "Same thing I've been doing since Vietnam, just exterminating the pests."

Murdock and Face knelt down by Jean, Face took out a pocket knife and used it to slice through the ropes that kept her hands tied together; when they'd been cut through, he and Murdock each grabbed one arm and slowly started to drag Jean off along the ground, a practice that they'd both had only too much practice of back in the jungle, and thought they'd be able to leave behind them. They heard Hannibal barking orders at Ging and his men, but none of the words really registered.

Once they'd cleared a hundred yards behind the house, Jean opened her eyes and started to pick her head up and looked at the scenery they were leaving in the distance. Then she looked down and noticed that a trail of blood was being made in the dirt as she was dragged along, she tilted her head back to look at Face and told him, "Hey Cinderella! You're leaving a nice little trail for the birds to follow! Just put me down here, let go of me."

Face groaned as he and Murdock stopped for a moment to rest and catch their breath.

"Maybe I'm wrong," Face said, "But I thought Hannibal had that planned for a little later on."

Jean sat up and touched the blood covering the front of her shirt and explained, "The squibs were already starting to pop, he had to do it quick or they'd notice."

"Well it sure as hell worked," Face said, the agitation clear in his voice, "For a minute I thought…"

"What, that he'd really shot me?" Jean asked amusedly.

"Jean, are you sure you're alright?" Murdock asked.

"Oh yeah, I'm fine," she answered as she lay back against the ground, "For being one of Hannibal's more original plans, this one seems to have gone off without a hitch so far."

"Maybe, but there's always a catch," Face reminded her.

"Alright, how far are we from the pump?" Jean asked, "Because I've got to get cleaned up before I make my miraculous recovery from my death."

Murdock turned and said, "Looks like a couple hundred more feet."

"Fine," Jean got to her feet and started to stand up, "You lead the way, then you better get back incase Hannibal needs your help, though after that little display I doubt anybody's going to want to try their luck with him, because everybody knows if Hannibal Smith was going to be inclined to kill anybody, it'd be some crook long before it'd ever be a woman."

"That's just because they don't know you, Jean," Face replied.

Jean scowled at him jokingly and asked as she followed after him, "You ever get your butt kicked by a dead woman?"

"Ah, not as I can recall," Face remarked as he started running before she could catch up with him.

"Well the first part of Hannibal's plan worked," Jean told Murdock, "Now let's just hope the rest of it goes as well."