It wasn't long before they headed off the campus grounds, got a doughnut and a cup of cheap coffee in some sidewalk café, and headed towards the nearest Underground stop.

"Hey, look!" Katie was checking her messages on her smartphone while they were walking. "They've already got the first intro to the PBA up. That's going to be fun. You know, we really should post our stories there, too. I'd like to have the extra excitement of having own work out there in the election."

"Maybe next year," Meghan mumbled with her mouth full. "Now that we know it's all real, you bet we can write even better stories. After all, we've got inside information, haven't we."

"Pity we never got to meet the great Colonel Hogan ourselves though. Why did he have to die so young?"

Meghan smirked. "Hey, he was nearly 90 when he died. Or something like that. But I would have liked to meet him and talk to him, yes. Especially now that his work has been declassified. Think of the inside info we could have gotten from him – our own greatgrandfather!"

"Actually, I have met my other greatgrandfather. There's a picture of it. But I was only like one or two years old when he died."

Meghan sighed. "Same here. But I wonder how much Uncle Rob knows. Or our own grandparents."

A shrug. "You heard what he said. But it'd be fun nonetheless even to hear those stories about fooling the guards."

"Maybe we can get them to watch the show with us, and see what they remember. You never know what it might trigger in the unconscious mind."

"Good plan." With that, Meghan and Katie headed into the tunnels of the Underground. It was surprisingly busy, even for New Year's Day, and they were glad to get out again at the stop near the National Museum. They threw their empty coffee mugs in the trash together with the remains of the not so tasty doughnuts, and went up the monumental stairs to the National Museum.

"I'll do the talking, okay?" Meghan decided. And in they went, to find the information desk.

"Good morning," Meghan started off. "And happy new year."

"My, you're in early," the lady behind the desk smiled. "Well, what can I do for you?"

"Our greatgrandfather was in the army during World War Two, and as students of history, we'd like to see the file on his exploits. For the research for our dissertation. We've been told it's file number 087 67 07."

Surprisingly, the lady's eyebrows shut up to her hairline. "Did you say 087 67 07?!"

Katie and Meghan looked at each other. "Yes. That's the one. Is there a problem?"

The lady gulped. "Well... maybe. Are you absolutely certain that this is the file you need? You didn't get the digits mixed up?"

"No." Meghan looked a little miffed. "Of course we didn't get the digits mixed up. When we say we need file 087 67 07, then it's file 087 67 07 that we need!"

"Oh... well..." The lady hesitated. "If you just wait a moment, I'll fetch you all the necessary paperwork."

"And the file," Katie insisted.

"Yes. And the file." Another gulp, and the lady disappeared behind a door.

"Absolutely paranoid," Meghan proclaimed. "And that all because of a bunch of silly fanfic authors who haunted this place years ago. Surely they don't expect us to...?"

But there was the lady back. "If you please fill out these forms. And then read through this disclaimer and if you agree, sign at the bottom?"

It was Katie's turn to raise her eyebrows. "Just to get a look at a file?"

"Yes." The woman looked away. "If you insist on seeing this file, then this paperwork has to be filled out. Museum policy."

"Oh well." The two girls dug out a pen each and started filling out the form: name, address, phone number, next of kin... Next of kin? Oh well, why not. And signed at the bottom.

"Did you read it?" the lady pressed.

"Yes, yes. We just agreed that we're requesting to see this file at our own risk, and the Museum can in no way be held responsible for whatever consequences may occur." Meghan handed her the papers. "Now can we please see that file? I promise we won't eat it."

The lady pulled out a heavy box from under the counter. It didn't look like much, but she seemed quite unwilling to hand it over.

"May we...?" Meghan prompted.

And with a sigh, the box finally placed in her hands. "But please, choose a table where I can keep an eye on you!" the lady urged.

"Sure." And the two girls sauntered off with their treasure to one of the tables in the center of the room.

"Now let's see," Meghan said as she carefully opened the box, with their backs turned to the staring lady at the information desk. "There's a lot of paperwork in there. Maybe Colonel Hogan's own report? Let's look at that first."

They pulled out the papers. There was actually an old yellowed photo on top – of five men in front of a rickety wooden barracks.

"That must be Colonel Hogan," Katie pointed out. "And this must be my other greatgrandfather James Kinchloe."

"And going by the pictures, I guess this is my greatgrandfather Carter."

"And the little one of course must be LeBeau, and the one in blue must be Newkirk. You know, they cast them pretty well on the show, didn't they – they really look alike!"

"Yeah..." Meghan had already opened the bulging folder with papers. And chuckled. "Look – there is even the report on the Mary Sue Experiments. No wonder that folder is bulging."

"You mean Colonel Hogan wrote a report on that?"

"Must have." Meghan shrugged. "Why else would it be in here?"

"I thought maybe the CIA people put it there, once they had debriefed those authors. Or something."

"Whatever." Meghan leafed through the stack of papers, recognizing the crazy events as she scanned the pages. But Katie quickly lost interest, and started to explore the other items in the box. There was a chip of goldpainted brick in there. A disconnected listening device. A wooden spoon. A thumbed deck of cards. A bunny made out of heavy dark grey clay. A little box with a note in red saying, "Keep out! Do not open!"

She grinned. "Look. I wonder what's in there. I thought the whole thing was supposed to be declassified?"

Meghan glanced over, and shared her grin. "Maybe a note like that works on men, but not on us inquisitive women, right? Let's open it. If they really didn't want people to see it, they would have locked it up elsewhere."

But opening that box was easier said than done. The snap was both finicky and stuck, and it took a lot of determined fiddling to get it to snap open – and open it did!

"Watch out!"

They both reached out to grab the item flying through the air, to prevent it from falling on the ground or on the table and get damaged... when suddenly a quickly fading shriek penetrated the chaos, and the next thing they knew, everything was black.

Or... black?

"Erm... hello?" Meghan called out hesitantly. "Anybody there?"

"Maybe there was a sudden black-out?" Katie shivered.

"In the middle of the day? There was lots of daylight in that room," Meghan scoffed.

"Then maybe..." Katie felt herself turn even paler. "Maybe a terrorist plane crashed on top of the Museum..."

Meghan sighed. "Now why would they want to destroy a museum..."

"Well, if they were aiming for the White House, and..."

"Who was aiming for the White House?"

The girls spun around to face that unexpected voice. In the dark light, but a few yards away from them, stood... "Grandpa?!"

Kinch raised his eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

"Well, not yet," Meghan babbled nervously. "But later, you're going to be her grandfather. Or rather greatgrandfather. And we're both..."

"Nuts," another voice cut in. "Look, Governor. There's another pair of them. And I had so hoped this folly would be over by now."

The man addressed was doubtlessly the great Colonel Hogan: the dark leather jacket, the brown crush cap, the piercing stare, the face that resembled Uncle Rob's so much...

Katie gulped. "We're sorry. We didn't mean to drop by. It was an accident... I think."

The Colonel sighed. "Alright, spill it. Who are you, and where are you from?"

Meghan took a deep breath. "My name is Meghan Lewis, and this is Katie Hogan. We're from 2015. And we're... sort of... your greatgrandchildren."

Newkirk's jaw dropped. "Well have I ever...! Blimey, Colonel, have you got some pretty offspring!" He stepped forward and held out his hand. "Welcome! Peter Newkirk is the name."

"Yeah, we know." Meghan sighed.

"You do?"

"Yeah. You see, there's this TV-show from the sixties that was sort of based on your operation – only a fair bit over the top to make sure no one would believe it, in order to keep the secrecy. But now they've declassified all of that, and..."

"Declassified?" The Colonel jumped on that. "When is that?"

"Um... in 2015," a bashful Katie answered.

"That's why we were at the museum – to check out if any new files had been added to the folder," Meghan supplied. "And then..."

"Let me guess." Hogan sighed. "You found some mysterious thingamajig, and before you knew what happened, you found yourselves down here in some strange tunnel."

"Well, not quite," Meghan corrected him. "There was this little box that we tried to open, and then something fell out and we tried to catch it before it fell. I never really got to see what it was. Did you?" she turned to Katie.

But Katie, too, shook her head.

"Must have been the bloody time travel device," Newkirk muttered.

"So how do we get back?" Meghan asked. "I believe you guys have your own version of the thing, right?"

"No, we don't. It's being kept safely in London," Colonel Hogan trashed their hopes. "We can't risk the Krauts getting their hands on it again. Besides, it had been rather quiet in Mary Sue Land lately, so..." A sigh. "So what are we going to do with you until London gets a plane through?"

"You know, Colonel," Kinch spoke up quietly. "Maybe they could lend us a hand with the Papa Bear Awards."

The girls looked at each other. "The Papa Bear Awards? You mean you know what that is?"

"Of course we do. We participate every year," Hogan said. "Well, it seems like as good an idea as any. Kinch, has London called in yet with all the info?"

"Negative, sir. I was down here waiting for their call when I heard these two intruders in the tunnels."

"Right. Then you two stay with Kinch. He'll tell you what to do." He gave them a stern frown. "And no monkey business, understood, ladies?"

"Yes, sir," the girls mumbled demurely.

"Good. Then let's get back to the radio room. London is likely to call in any moment now to schedule the drop of the stories. I want you two on hand to help distribute them among the men."

Indeed, they didn't have to wait long.

"Goldilocks calling Papa Bear. Come in, Papa Bear."

Meghan nudged Katie, and they exchanged an excited glance. It was real – really real! And they were witnessing it up close!

"Papa Bear here, Goldilocks. Go ahead," Kinch meanwhile said in the mike.

"Package will be dropped at Y 14, 2300 hours. Deadline: February 13th. Please acknowledge."

"Y 14, 2300 hours, deadline February 13th."

"Affirmative. Did you find any help to organize the whole thing?"

"Yes, sir. In fact, they just dropped in on us."

"Good. Well, enjoy! And make sure you get your nominations in on time."

"Wilco. Over and out."

An eager Meghan looked up at the Colonel. "Can we come along to pick up that package? Please?"

"No!" was the emphatic reply in Dolby Surround.

.

Author's note: While the guys have to go out and brave the dangers of Nazi patrols to retrieve their package with 91 stories to choose from, you can stay right in front of your computer to find all you need to know about this year's Papa Bear Awards! Just go on to the next chapter!