Author's Note: So, this is a one shot in which I express my opinions on Indiana Jones 5. Rated M for graphic violence and strong language. Enjoy the show and kiss my ass KK.

—-

Shinebox

Indiana Jones has had a long day. He sighed as gulped down his third scotch and soda in the sketchy NYC bar. For months, Helena had insulted, upstaged and humiliated him at every turn. But of course, not even a crowbar could pry the bitch away.

"I don't understand why you are so special," sneered Helena, "if you ever were. All you have ever done was have things handed to you and take things that never belonged to you. You should never send a man to do a woman's work."

"I can't keep listening to this," said Indy as he took another sip.

"Another example of old, white, male fragility," said Helena, "you are pathetic. Always afraid of a strong woman upstaging you."

"Willie Scott was stronger than you," said Indy, "the screaming bimbo at least wanted to help at times, not go out of her way to screw me over."

"By the way," said Helena, "I think I'm gonna shoot my shot with this old chick, Marion."

"Go to Hell," said Indy.

"Hell is such a foolish concept," said Helena, "something invented by old, dead white men to control women, minorities and the LGBTQ++++ community."

"In the Nevada desert," said Indy, "there's a crate I would like you to find. There's a gold treasure chest in it with angels on top. Feel free to open it and we'll see who's right."

"Another thing you stole from brown people," said Helena, "I presume."

"Fuck you," said Indy.

"Don't talk to a lady like that," said Helena.

"You aren't a fucking lady," said Indy, "you are an arrogant, toxically masculine bitch that has no respect for any human being! I don't know how the fuck you entered my life, but get the hell away from me! I would at least like to die a happy man!"

"Just walk back to your life of privilege and easy solutions," said Helena.

"Shut up," snapped Indy, "just shut that cesspit you call a mouth and leave me in peace!"

"Please," said Helena, "you white men are allergic to peace, starting all of those wars and all."

"But we also end them," said Indy. "God, Belloq was less of a douche than you!"

Thump! Thump!

Just then, Helena plopped her dusty black boots on top of the bar, in Indy's face.

"Give them a shine, old boy," she said condescendingly, "see how you can relate to a lower class person."

"Helena," said Indy, "I am not a shoe-shine boy. And you shouldn't treat a real one like that to begin with."

"Go get a shinebox," said Helena, "old man."

"What," said Indy, as his self control slowly evaporated and he clenched his fists.

"Go get yourself a fucking shinebox!"

(Atlantis by Donovan)

Indy hurled his glass into Helena's face, leaving a huge bloodstain on her forehead and sending her into the floor.

"I'll show you a proper shoe-shine," said Indy as he stomped on her stomach at full force. Just then, some familiar faces entered the bar. Marion, Short-Round, Sallah, Henry Jones and Belloq had all been called by some mysterious force to help Indy defeat his most heinous enemy. They all began stomping and kicking Helena, getting blood all over the floor and their shoes.

"I don't care what Lucasfilm says, bitch," screamed Marion as she dislocated Helena's nose, "Indy is my man! And he doesn't deserve to be berated by a self-important bimbo!"

"You aren't worthy of him," said Short-Round, focusing on her left ribs, "I am loyal to him and genuinely want to help!"

"Indy is my friend," said Sallah as he went for the throat, "he deserves better."

"I wasn't always there for him," said Henry Jones, "but Junior is a great man who should be respected!"

"I am his best enemy," said Belloq as went for the eyes, "you are pathetic!"

"Die bitch," said Indy as he and his friends kept kicking and stomping until they eventually got tired.

What used to be Indy's smug, ungrateful goddaughter who wanted to one-up and eventually replace him now looked more like a misshapen piece of meat.

"Now you go get your fucking shinebox," said Indy.

—-

As the meatwagon left, Indy gave his statement to the detective on scene. The detective was rather sympathetic, having been a massive fan of the franchise since he was a boy.

"Usurping the franchise in such a cruel manner should warrant capital punishment," he said.

"So," asked Indy, "am I being charged?"

"Unlikely," said the detective, "as this was clearly self-defense."

"What's going to happen to the body anyways," asked Indy.

"Top men will be working on it," said the detective.

—-

The corpse was sealed up in an air-tight container before being placed inside the wooden crate. Not even the soldier pushing it through the warehouse knew what was inside at that point. It was above his pay grade. All he was supposed to do was put crates into storage, not think about what was inside. He found himself to whistle a familiar, if eerie tune while he wheeled the cargo amongst the giant stacks of crates. Hopefully, nobody would ask him to wheel it back out, as something felt off about the crate. But who knows.