The disclaimer telling you that I don't own any Archer characters has been taken by Mallory. I did make up a town however. This is just more madness that just sprung out of my tiny little mind.

Mallory Archer President For Life

"This is ridiculous," Archer grumbled as he sat in a quaint booth in a small restaurant. "Why the hell did the three of us have to travel all the way to New Jersey to get a drink?"

Mallory sighed as she put her drink down. "I admit the town of Peppermint Falls is a bit out of the way. But this is where the mission is happening."

"It's not that bad," Pam was there as well gleefully eating and drinking. "The food in this hotel is really good. And the ambiance is lovely. I didn't know there was such a place called Peppermint Falls."

"Well I wouldn't look too hard on a map for it," Mallory sighed. "Unless you're obsessed with doilies and antiques. It's one of those rare quaint towns in Northern Jersey that somehow escaped the vulgarity and brain rot that has infested the majority of the state."

"So why are we here if you hate New Jersey so much?" Archer asked.

"For the mission," Mallory sighed. "And a rather surprisingly tasteful Tom Collins."

"I'll get the next round," Archer pulled a wad of bills out of his pocket and waved at a waitress to get her attention.

"Wow. This is a red-letter day," Pam remarked. "You almost never pay for drinks. I was starting to think your wallet had a black hole in it."

"Well it's nowhere near the one in your stomach," Archer looked at Pam before talking to the waitress. "Keep the Tom Collins coming for all around. And here's something extra for yourself."

"Five whole dollars," The waitress deadpanned. "Gee. Thanks. Now I can pay off my mortgage." She went to get the drinks.

"That attitude is probably why you're stuck in this dead-end job instead of being on Broadway!" Archer snapped.

"Sterling where did you get that money?" Mallory asked. "Oh God you haven't been trying to rent yourself online again, have you?"

"First of all," Archer pointed out. "No! Secondly don't say it like that! It makes me sound like a gigolo."

"Sterling," Mallory looked at him. "You are a gigolo. With a gun."

"Mother I am not a gigolo!" Archer snapped. "I do it for the sport!"

"So does Tom Brady," Pam looked at him. "And he gets paid by the truckload!"

"And secondly, I was trying to sell my services as a spy," Archer went on. "Espionage. Surveillance."

"Seduction," Mallory looked at him.

"Well that is technically part of the spy game!" Archer pointed out. "Hang on…"

"And how many honeypot missions have you done over the years?" Pam pointed out.

"Keeping in mind that was the one assignment briefing you were never late for," Mallory added. "And you were always very vocal about getting paid on time."

Archer blinked. "God damn it. I am a gigolo."

"With a gun," Pam added. "So you're technically in a higher bracket."

Archer remarked. "That does make me feel better."

"Let's circle back to how you got the money this time," Mallory sighed.

"Oh that," Archer shrugged. "I just did what I usually do when I'm low on cash. Go to Tunt Manor and steal some art. Then sell it at a pawn shop."

"Sterling, you break and enter Cheryl's home?" Mallory gasped.

"It's not breaking and entering if you have a key," Archer pointed out.

"Where did you get the key?" Mallory asked.

"Pam made me a copy of hers," Archer pointed to Pam. "She got a copy from Cheryl who gave her a copy."

"She gave me one in case I had to check on her," Pam added. "To see if she was either overdosed or stuck in her sex harness. Or both."

"And aren't you ashamed of how you took advantage of Pam's good nature?" Mallory gasped.

"Who do you think gave me the idea of stealing some of Cheryl's art in the first place?" Archer asked.

"She's got a shitload of stuff all over that damn mansion," Pam admitted. "That she doesn't even notice. Of course, I'm smart enough not to take art directly from the main hallways!"

"That's where the high-end stuff is. Not like she can figure that out," Archer pointed.

FLASHBACK!

"God damn it Ghosts!" Cheryl shouted at the empty walls in her hallway at Tunt Manor. "I told you to stay on the walls where you belong! They'd better not be on vacation!"

FLASHFORWARD!

Archer added. "She's convinced that show Ghosts is a documentary."

"To be fair it's a great show," Pam shrugged. "But to me it's like a less edgy version of What We Do In The Shadows. You know? With ghosts instead of vampires?"

"Because ghosts aren't as bloodthirsty as vampires and are more family friendly for network television," Archer added. "I see where you got that. The problem is Pam is that this version of Ghosts is basically a copy of the British version of Ghosts."

"I know there was a show in Britain first," Pam said. "Those Horrible Histories people made it."

"Like The Office," Archer added. "Not the Horrible Histories people made that one. That one was Ricky Gervais."

"But the American version of The Office took on a charm of its own," Pam added. "To be fair the American version had eleven seasons and the original had only two. I'm just saying it's like some network executives noticed that What We Do In The Shadows was doing well…"

"And they had to think fast about how they could capitalize on the supernatural comedy trend," Archer added. "With as little blood and violence as possible."

"Exactly," Pam nodded. "So, somebody probably saw the UK version of Ghosts and thought we can do what we did with The Office. Just change the Caveman to a Viking. Turn the gay World War Two officer into a gay Revolutionary war officer. Have a Wall Street trader without pants instead of an MP without pants…"

"I'm glad they kept the arrow guy," Archer added. "The arrow guy is funny!"

"He is," Pam nodded. "Add a few American characters…Like I said ghosts are less violent than vampires…PG verses R."

"Ghosts are perfect for a 9PM slot," Archer added. "While vampires are more 10 PM and up. And better on cable…"

"WHAT IS IT WITH YOU IDIOTS AND VAMPIRES?" Mallory shouted. "Seriously? Can't you people go a week without bringing them up? Let's just get back to the mission! If that's not that much trouble for you?"

"Oh right," Archer blinked. "What are we doing again?"

"Damned if I know," Pam shrugged.

"Oh, for God's sakes," Mallory let out an annoyed breath. "Fine. I will go over the plan. Again!"

"That would be very helpful," Pam nodded honestly.

Mallory let out a breath before proceeding. "I managed to find out that IIA is sending a courier to drop off a packet of intelligence for the CIA here. He's going to put it in one of those mail slots over there."

"The hotel has mail slots?" Archer looked across the hallway to see a large imposing wooden panel with golden small doors.

"This hotel has been around since the 1800's," Mallory explained. "And used to double as a post office. All we have to do is watch and wait for the courier to put something in mailbox 4C. Then we move in and grab the package and deliver it to the FBI ourselves for a reward."

"Hang on," Archer held up his hand. "I thought you said this was for the CIA?"

"That's right," Mallory nodded.

"But we're going to give it to FBI?" Archer was confused. "Why?"

"Because the CIA and FBI aren't exactly besties," Pam explained. "Even though some of the tactics by their operatives in the past are pretty similar."

"Sterling the CIA and FBI have been rivals since the day J Edgar Hoover first sat down in his office," Mallory explained. "And found out the CIA had taken half of his furniture. They are separate government agencies competing for limited government funds with overlapping territories. Of course, they compete against each other."

"Hang on," Pam looked around. "Doesn't that mean a CIA operative is already in this building ready to take the package?"

"Not yet," Mallory told her. "If two people go to the same mailbox at the same time it would look suspicious. The CIA always waits a half hour before doing a pickup in situations like this. We have time."

"How do we open the mailbox if we don't have a key?" Pam asked.

"I have a skeleton key," Mallory waved. "Trust me, it will work. It did when we first got here and I checked the box."

"Wait," Archer blinked. "I'm confused."

"Hold the presses," Mallory rolled her eyes as she took a drink.

"How does this help The Agency if we screw over one government agency for another?" Archer asked.

"This isn't technically for The Agency," Mallory admitted. "This is more of a…freelance thing."

Pam put it together. "We're robbing the CIA for our own pockets, aren't we?"

"Sixty forty split," Mallory told her. "I get sixty. You and Sterling can split the forty."

"What?" Archer barked.

"Hell no!" Pam snapped.

Archer added. "It should be fifty-fifty-fifty!"

"There is no such thing as fifty-fifty-fifty!" Mallory snapped. "God Sterling, I know you barely passed math and flunked algebra but I expected even you to know that!"

"How about this?" Pam suggested. "Twenty-five for each of us, and the remainder goes into The Agency?"

"And how would I explain that influx of cash to Robert?" Mallory snapped. "Or Cyril? Who would blab to Robert the first chance he'd get. And if he doesn't tell Robert he'd tell Lana and she'd tell Robert!"

"Not if I break Cyril's jaw," Archer said smugly.

"You are not breaking Cyril's jaw!" Pam snapped. "The man is broken enough as it is."

"True," Mallory nodded. "And it would take me years to break in a new accountant spineless enough to do what I want. No, sixty-forty is the best option."

"Yeah for you!" Pam snapped. "How about fifty-fifty? Archer and I split it twenty-five each?"

"No, way!" Archer barked. "Mother still gets more than us!"

"Yeah but this way we'd have a bigger piece of the pie," Pam pointed out. "Speaking of which I could really go for some. I wonder if they have any pecan?" She looked at the menu.

"No!" Archer snapped. "If we all share the risk we all get an equal share of the money!"

"Equal share my ass!" Mallory shouted. "Over half of my money goes to paying for your bills! How's that for fair?"

"She's got a point Archer," Pam conceded.

"What?" Archer looked at Pam.

Pam counted off on her fingers. "Your mother pays for your apartment. Your car. Your health insurance. Your food. At least half of your booze. Your salary. Your water and other utilities. Your car insurance. Your bail money…"

"Thank you, Pam!" Mallory snapped. "Sterling you are not leeching off any more of this money than you need! Now that I think about it, if anyone deserves a larger percentage…It's Pam!"

"What?" Archer shouted.

"At least I pull my weight around here," Pam defended.

"And that is no small achievement," Mallory remarked as she took a drink. "How about this? I get fifty percent. Pam you get thirty percent. Sterling gets twenty percent."

"Works for me," Pam shrugged.

"WHAT?" Archer shouted.

"It's two to one Archer," Pam told him. "Deal with it."

"This is not a democracy!" Archer snapped.

"You're right," Mallory glared at him. "This is a benevolent dictatorship run by Mallory Archer President for Life!"

"I'll take the twenty," Archer grumbled.

"And I will take the drinks," Pam said cheerfully as the waitress returned with them. "Oh, and some pecan pie please!"

"So, will I," Mallory added. "Put it on my son's tab."

"Oh, like you're going to eat anything that's solid!" Archer barked.

"It's a bourbon pecan pie," Pam pointed to the menu.

"Make that three," Archer sighed.

"Now that that's settled," Mallory remarked as the waitress left. "Let's focus on the mission."

"Why the hell would the CIA and IIA agree to a place like this for a drop off?" Archer thought aloud as he took a drink.

"Well Sterling," Mallory told him. "It's remote. It's a quiet little town. It's one of the last places people would suspect anything going on. Other than dust gathering. That's why it's become one of the best places for drop offs since the Second World War."

"Seriously?" Pam blinked. "That's like saying my home town is a secret hangout for movie stars."

"I wouldn't go that far," Mallory waved. "But this is one of many small towns in America that have secret connections to the spy world. You know that farm we passed right before we got here? Back in the fifties it used to be a black site that was doing experiments on using computer programs to placate and brainwash prisoners of war."

"Are you serious?" Archer was stunned.

"It didn't work," Mallory admitted. "The program was shut down and the black site was scrubbed after several failures. And a secret Russian agent fled with the basic programming. The irony is that the Soviets didn't believe in the project either. So the agent just kept it in a secret compartment in his house. Let his son take over the project. Yada, yada, yada…And that's how Tetris was born."

"I always thought that game was unusually addictive," Archer realized.

"The farm was given to a nice retired CIA couple," Mallory went on. "Who decided to grow steroid infused vegetables in their spare time. Nice people. I used to double date with them back in the day."

"Really?" Pam asked. "Do they sell their produce at a farm stand or…?"

Mallory took a drink and kept talking. "Then there was the secret Nazi scientist prisoner of war camp. Coincidentally at the very same farm."

"How could the government hide a Nazi scientist secret war camp?" Archer asked.

"Well there were only three of them," Mallory admitted. "And they weren't rocket scientists. Two were geneticists and one was a physicist. That's how the steroid infused vegetables came into being."

"The government didn't think keeping all those Nazi eggheads in one place was a good idea huh?" Pam asked.

"Got it in one Pam," Mallory nodded. "They put scientists in small groups and sent them all over the place so they'd be more manageable. The physicist had a heart attack within a week of being sent to the prison and died."

"Can't get more manageable than that," Archer remarked.

"The other two didn't last that long either," Mallory admitted. "Within a year they were both dead. Apparently, they got their hands on what they thought was alcohol but turned out to be wood grain. Master race my ass. What kind of master race can't tell wood grain from bourbon? HA!"

"Anything else about the town?" Pam asked.

Mallory thought. "Not that much. Apparently, there was a discussion to put a secret missile silo here but that was nixed when it turned out the site was this bed and breakfast that the head of the CIA liked. Brought a few of his mistresses there. The proprietor was very discreet. Other than that…"

"So, you've been here before?" Pam looked at Mallory.

"I've never been here before," Mallory admitted. "I just know about it. You'd know these things too Sterling if you'd paid more attention to your job than where to get a blowjob."

"Burn!" Pam snickered.

Archer decided to not challenge his mother's opinions. "So, what does this courier guy look like?" Archer asked.

"Oh, probably some nondescript person," Mallory waved. "All we have to do is watch the mailbox."

"Are you sure he hasn't come yet?" Pam asked.

"Yes, I'm sure!" Mallory snapped at her. "Unlike you two I'm always on the job."

"Phrasing," Pam and Archer said at the same time. Then they snickered.

"Oh har, har…" Mallory grumbled. "I knew I should have brought anyone else but the two of you."

"Why did you?" Pam asked. "I mean you don't need three people to steal a package."

"Ever hear of this new thing called backup?" Mallory gave her a look. "Just try to be on the lookout."

"I am," Pam looked around. "How long does it take to bring out a slice of pie?"

"For the…" Mallory caught herself just as the waitress walked over with their pies. "Finally! Now Pam can concentrate on something other than her stomach."

"Just keep the drinks coming," Archer told the waitress who left in a huff. "What an attitude. I'm half tempted to not hit on her later."

"I'd give into that temptation if I were you Sterling," Mallory sighed as she took a small bite of pie. "This is surprisingly good. Reminds me of the time I had that mission in Texas. I had a ride from this cowboy you wouldn't believe. He lasted more than eight seconds let me tell you!"

"Ugh," Archer groaned. "Mother! No one wants to hear how you got laid on the range!"

"I find her spy stories interesting," Pam told Archer. "And informative."

"Well at least one of you is listening," Mallory grumbled as she watched Pam eat. "Then again it's hard for you to do anything else with your mouth full."

"Let's just talk about something else," Archer groaned. "Anything else?"

"Then you pick the topic," Mallory gave him a look. "As long as it isn't about vampires!"

"I have a topic," Pam spoke up. "If you could do any job besides being a spy or what we've already done. What would you be?"

"Easy," Archer waved. "Professional lacrosse player and eventually a coach of a successful lacrosse team."

"That is not a thing," Mallory sighed.

"It is so, Mother!" Archer snapped. "That sport is making great inroads! You wait! In a few years there are going to be competing teams on network TV! It could be just as big as American Football."

"Doubtful," Mallory gave him a look.

"Lacrosse has everything the American viewer could possibly want to watch," Archer protested. "It has speed. Skill. Violence!"

"Well it certainly had the last one when you played it," Mallory admitted. "You are the only player in the history of the sport penalized for breaking the leg of the referee! Twice!"

"I could have made it big in lacrosse," Archer said proudly. "I had a scholarship and everything."

"Which was withdrawn the minute the college actually looked at your test scores and arrest record," Mallory gave him a look. "And this was before you were shot by a deranged woman!"

"My point is I got that scholarship on my own!" Archer snapped. "Without any help from you!"

"And you lost it on your own," Mallory countered. "Without any help from me."

"What about you Ms. Archer?" Pam asked. "What would you have done?"

"Oh, that's easy," Mallory waved. "I would have been an actress."

"Yeah, I can see that," Pam nodded. "It's the only other profession I know where lying and being a narcissist are assets to the job. Well that and politics."

"She's not wrong," Archer admitted.

"Well what about you, Pam?" Mallory asked. "Let's assume you never ended up in human resources. Honestly the fact that you were able to get a job in human resources astounds me since you barely qualify as human. What would you have done?"

"The head of human resources at whatever company I applied to," Pam quipped. "But seriously I had two options before I realized that I wanted to go into HR. The first was continuing being a drag racer slash mechanic for the Yakuza. But let's be honest. The retirement plan and pensions are pretty much non-existent. And you don't want to know what they consider medical benefits."

"So, what was your second option?" Archer asked as he ate more pie.

"I was thinking about opening up my own business," Pam told him. "I would own and operate my own bar slash porn shop in Madison, Wisconsin. The big city!"

Archer paused. "I could see that."

"Me too," Mallory admitted.

"I was going to call it Poovey's," Pam sighed. "All your pub and porn needs. I was even thinking of making it a franchise. Like Chuck E. Cheese. Only for adults. And the animatronics would have been way cooler!"

Archer remarked. "I actually see a need for that."

"Dear God so do I," Mallory sighed as she took a drink. "Listen. I brought you two here because…And I can't believe I'm saying this. You two are the most…Well I can't say loyal. Least likely to backstab me. And that's saying something. Sometimes I think this whole President for Life thing is a bad idea. And I should abdicate."

"What about Lana?" Archer asked. "She's loyal."

"Yes, but she'd jump ship to something better the minute she had an opportunity," Mallory told him. "Honestly I can't blame her for that because that's something I'd do!"

"You know who I'd do?" Pam remarked. "Our waitress. She's pretty hot."

"Ehh," Archer shrugged. "A little too Hallmark Channel for me."

"You know what?" Mallory sighed. "Forget I said anything. Which shouldn't be too difficult considering your attention spans. Let's talk about something else."

Pam paused. "You know technically the TV show Ghosts isn't about vampires."

"NO!" Mallory shouted. "Sterling come up with something now! Before I start spilling blood!"

Archer asked. "What TV shows do you watch?"

"I hardly watch anything on the idiot box except for the news and the occasional movie," Mallory admitted. "Although I do admit to enjoying Downton Abbey."

"You know that's on PBS, right?" Archer asked. "And you hate PBS!"

"Yes, Sterling," Mallory sighed. "I am aware of the irony. Still I must admit Downtown Abbey is well done." She took a sip of her drink.

"Speaking of well done," Pam spoke up. "I like cooking shows."

"Shocking," Mallory took a sip of her drink.

"And reality shows," Pam added. "Like Masked Singer."

"That's a good show," Archer agreed.

"Isn't that the show where they get these lower ranked celebrities in costumes and they sing?" Mallory asked.

"They are not all lower ranked celebrities!" Archer defended. "They had Donny Osmond, Dionne Warwick, Wayne Brady and Jewel on there. Those are medium to medium high ranked celebrities."

"Bob Saget was on there and he's practically TV royalty," Pam added.

"God rest his filthy potty mouthed soul," Archer added before taking a drink.

"Oh, for crying out loud," Mallory sighed. "The last TV show I watched religiously was Mary Tyler Moore. And honestly I'm pretty sure I haven't missed that much!"

"I'm starting to miss the waitress," Archer remarked. "We're running low on drinks."

"Where the hell is that courier?" Mallory looked at her watch. "Seriously? If I didn't know better I'd say he worked at our office."

"The Office was a good show too," Pam added. "Both versions."

"I like Ghosts too," Archer admitted. "I think me and that Trevor guy have a lot in common."

"You mean running around without pants?" Pam quipped.

"Will you please stop babbling about television?" Mallory groaned.

Pam looked at Mallory. "You would have a lot in common with Hetty. You both hate the Irish."

"Then there are some television characters that are relatable," Mallory grumbled. "Where is that damn courier?"

"Someone's coming," Pam noticed. "Phrasing!"

"Do you have to…?" Mallory let out an angry breath. "Never mind! Let's go!"

"I thought we were going to wait until after he deposited the package?" Archer asked.

"That was before he kept us waiting!" Mallory bristled as she got up. "Let's go!"

"Aww I wanted some more pie," Pam frowned. "Phrasing!"

"Oh, shut up!" Mallory snapped before she moved towards the box. To her horror there was a familiar figure taking things out of it. "YOU!"

"Well if it isn't Mallory Archer," Slater smirked. "And Archer. And Pam Poovey. Great my horoscope said I would get a headache today."

"What are you doing here?" Mallory bristled.

"I was going to ask you the same question," Slater remarked. "I am asking you the same question!"

"Definitely not planning on intercepting…" Pam began.

"PAM!" Mallory snapped. "We're here on business…"

"So am I," Slater opened the mailbox and took out the package. "And now that mine is concluded I see no reason to stand around here and talk to you!"

"Unless you want to talk about the TV series Ghosts," Pam spoke up.

"British or American version?" Slater asked. "Never mind! Later." He left them.

"So, about that fifty, thirty, twenty split…" Archer began.

"Sterling shut up before I split you in half!" Mallory snapped.

"It wasn't a total loss," Pam told her. "At least we found a good place for drinks and pecan pie."

"What I don't understand is how the courier got by us so fast," Mallory blinked. "I mean I know Sterling distracted us but it wasn't for that long. How did he do it?"

"What do you mean I distracted you?" Archer snapped.

"I don't get it," Mallory was stunned. "How could I have missed it? Am I really slipping? How?"

About a few miles away from the hotel…

"That was close," Ray let out a breath as he relaxed in a small coffee shop in the next town. "Good thing I recognized Ms. Archer's shouting and the others babbling about vampires before they had a chance to see me. I was able to run to the back of the building, sneak my way in and put the package in the mail slot from the other side."

"One benefit about being a cyborg. I can run fast. Really fast. Barry Allen fast."

"I wonder if I could zip back in there and get some of that bourbon pecan pie?"

"Oh, they have that here. Never mind. My thighs will hate me but I deserve this!"

Meanwhile…

"I deserved that money!" Mallory snapped. "Now what do I do? Besides make your lives a living hell."

"Too late," Archer quipped.

"I have a suggestion," Pam spoke up.

The following day…

"Oh yeah this is the good stuff," A muscled pawnbroker looked at several pieces of silverware and jewelry in his shop.

"Well, that's what you get at Tunt Manor," Pam quipped. She was there with Archer and Mallory. "And what Cheryl gets for sleeping it off in her sex harness."

"This is worth several grand easy," The pawnbroker told her. "And I have a lot of buyers that can work with this."

"So…" Archer asked. "Back to the fifty, thirty, twenty?"

Mallory realized. "I should have done this years ago."