The disclaimer telling you that I don't own any Archer characters has gone out to brunch. More madness that came into my tiny mind while waiting for the final season of Archer.
Death At Brunch
"Zara's Café?" Lana looked at the upscale restaurant. "Why are we here at Zara's Café?"
"For the newest most upscale brunch in New York City!" Pam said. The members of the Agency were standing outside the restaurant. "And Archer, I know you can just say New York! I choose to add the City!"
"That is her prerogative," Ray remarked.
"Again, why?" Lana asked.
"We're celebrating!" Pam cheered. "To the new and improved and hopefully soon to be renamed Agency!"
"Why are we celebrating?" Lana asked.
"Why shouldn't we celebrate?" Archer asked. "IIA is doomed and out of our lives forever. Fabian is in jail. We're our own agency again and you're finally in charge like you always wanted to be. Why not enjoy it?"
"And who's going to pay for this?" Lana raised an eyebrow.
"That's the best part," Pam smirked as she held up a credit card. "Krieger managed to hack into IIA's accounts soon after we got home and Fabian got arrested. Made ourselves a fake card which will get charged to IIA."
"In Fabian's name?" Lana asked. "Because that might be a tell."
"No, we made one up," Pam showed her.
"Agent I.P. Freely," Lana remarked. "Fitting. Let's do brunch!"
"Hooray for Embezzlement Brunch!" Cheryl cheered as they went inside.
Twenty minutes later the gang was eating loads of food and drinking mimosas at a very upscale booth. "I have to admit," Lana said as she took a bite. "These waffles are good."
"And the mimosas are bitchin'!" Pam grinned. "And not watered down."
"That is important in a good mimosa," Ray agreed. "So Lana, what's our next move? After brunch?"
"Find some new missions obviously," Lana told him. "Once I finish the damn paperwork. You would not believe how much paperwork you have to do to set up a legitimate spy agency! No wonder Mallory's was illegal."
"Speaking of which has anyone heard from her?" Pam asked. "I miss her."
"Me too," Ray sighed. "Sometimes when the wind is just right, I can hear her shouting homophobic slurs at me."
"And insults," Cheryl added. "Good it's not just me this time."
"Archer, have you heard anything?" Pam asked.
"Why are you asking me?" Archer asked.
"Because she's your mom?" Pam asked. "She might have contacted you!"
"Pam, you know a lot about my childhood," Archer gave her a look. "What part of that knowledge suggests that she would contact me for no reason?"
"I don't know," Pam shrugged. "Maybe you owe her money or something?"
"Why would she contact Archer for money?" Ray asked.
"Right," Pam realized. "Stupid question."
Cyril sighed. "I bet she and Ron are living it up somewhere there's a beach and a very long bar tab. Lucky. I mean she got out!"
"After killing most of her rivals," Ray added. "In some cases, outliving them."
"I miss Mallory too," Lana admitted. "But this is a new chapter in our agency. Hopefully a better and more legal one!"
Archer raised up his glass. "To Lana! For finally getting what she really deserves. I mean it."
"Thank you, Archer," Lana grinned as she held up her glass. "To The Agency!"
"To brunch!" Pam held her mimosa up. Everyone looked at her. "What?"
Meanwhile outside the restaurant…
"Brunch? Really?" A balding red-haired man in his forties grumbled as he stood out front with two other men. They were all wearing black suits.
"Howard breakfast is the most important meal of any day," A man with black hair and a black mustache told him. "Short of that, brunch!"
"Gordon's right," A third thin man with brown hair spoke up. "No sense doing an assassination on an empty stomach."
"Especially when that bastard Fabian is paying," Gordon smirked.
"Technically our bosses at IIA are paying," Howard corrected. "They're just taking it out of that rat's salary. This never would have happened if I was put in charge of IIA!"
"Greg and I agree," Gordon nodded. "Fabian should have never been promoted over you. The only reason he was promoted was that he kissed more ass than a porn star."
"We're the ones who did all the work and he got all the credit," Greg added. "I'm glad that bastard is in jail. And was bitten by a poisonous spider. Is he out of the coma yet?"
"Who knows? Who cares?" Howard snorted. "The point is because he screwed up so big IIA is on the verge of being closed."
"So?" Greg asked. "All we have to do is lie low for a few months then rebrand our agency under another name."
"Those of us who haven't been arrested yet," Howard grumbled. "Or dead. Or indicted. Why didn't the venom get Fabian before he started ratting out some of our bosses?"
"We were just lucky he passed out mid-confession," Greg added. "Before he could name us."
"One good thing about Fabian taking all the credit for our work is that our names aren't on anything," Howard added. "That's one of the reasons we got this assignment to terminate Sterling Archer and The Agency."
"All the more reason we need to eat first," Gordon pointed out. "They took out half of Diamond Squad and some of our best men! And they completely destroyed our office in Singapore! If we're going against those loose cannons, we need all the energy we can get."
"You have a point," Howard admitted. "And they are paying for our expenses so…Okay. First brunch. Then we assassinate The Agency. Then…Dinner at Carmines?"
"Ah I never like to eat Italian after an assassination," Gordon admitted. "Kind of racist to me. I prefer steak after a good killing."
"Marty's is good," Greg spoke up.
"Can't do Marty's," Howard told him. "This is their vacation week. Plus, they're renovating the place so…How about Davao's?"
"No, they're booked for a private function tonight," Gordon looked at his phone. "Tavern On The Roof?"
"Their steak is always overcooked," Howard told him. "That's more of a tapas place anyway. And I'm not in the mood for tapas tonight."
"What about Night Owls?" Greg asked. "I mean their appetizers are a little overpriced but their food is good. If we skip the appetizers and just get a salad with our meal…"
"Night Owls is gone," Howard told him. "Didn't you hear? It burned to the ground!"
"How did that happen?" Greg gasped.
"Sterling Archer that's what happened!" Howard grumbled. "He went on one of his famous benders. Night Owls and at least twenty assassins were casualties. And apparently a library copy of the Karma Sutra."
"Damn it," Greg grumbled. "I loved Night Owls. Now I want to kill these bastards even more!"
"You and half of IIA," Gordon told him. "Well, the half that isn't dead or in jail."
"Okay how about this?" Howard suggested. "First brunch. Then the assassination. Then we can figure out where to go."
"Good idea," Gordon nodded. "I can look up reviews online for new places to try."
"I'm down for trying something new," Greg said.
"Why not?" Howard remarked as they walked into the restaurant.
A short time later…
"I figure if we can shorten our profit margins by five percent…" Cyril was working with a calculator. "And increase productivity by…Well anything. We can have a profit of at least three percent if…"
"Cyril what are you doing?" Archer interrupted. "Besides being extremely lame?"
Cyril blinked. "I thought we could turn this into a business brunch then we could write it off as a tax deduction."
"How can we write it off as a tax deduction if we're committing fraud?" Lana asked.
"Oh right," Cyril blinked. "I forgot about that part."
"To be fair," Krieger spoke up. "We do that so many times I forget who's paying."
"As long as it's not me," Pam shrugged. "Who cares?"
"Seriously," Archer scoffed at Cyril. "Why do you carry a calculator?"
"They're handy," Cyril shrugged. "And I like them."
"You give a new definition to lame, don't you?" Archer remarked.
"Whatever," Cyril sighed as he put the calculator down.
"You seem a little depressed at this party," Pam remarked.
"Oh my God Cyril is depressed at every party," Cheryl rolled her eyes and took a drink. "It's Cyril! Remember?"
"I'm not depressed," Cyril told her. "I'm just…Wondering about what happens next."
"What do you mean?" Ray asked.
"It seems like almost every year we either get nearly destroyed, arrested, killed or narrowly avoid some major disaster," Cyril sighed. "Don't get me wrong I'm happy we're our own agency again but…"
"Here comes the but from the ass," Archer quipped.
"I mean do you really want to do this forever?" Cyril asked the gang. "I mean seriously? Haven't any of you thought about…retiring? With the exception of Lana who can just stay in the office from now on…Do you guys really want to be field agents for the rest of our lives? Which may be extremely short if we keep going like this."
"Honestly…" Ray sighed. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about it once or twice. A week. For the past ten years!"
Pam agreed. "It may not be the worst idea to come up with an exit strategy. One that doesn't involve a coffin."
"Even I think this should be our last season," Cheryl admitted. "Unless we do a movie? Oh, a series of movies! That would be awesome! I mean a lot of them would go straight to DVD. Or streaming."
"I'd take it," Krieger shrugged.
"That would still be cool," Cheryl added. "I mean if Scooby Doo can do like fifteen movies a year…"
"Obviously we can't do that many," Krieger added.
"Well yeah the animation quality standards are higher now for starters," Cheryl nodded. "And we really need to bring it with the script writing."
"And add more sex and nudity," Krieger spoke up.
"Well, that's a given," Cheryl told him.
"Okay let's all turn away from Crazy Land to this new place called the Real World," Archer remarked.
"Interesting that you are the one saying that," Pam looked at him.
"What do you mean?" Archer asked.
"If anyone should be thinking about retirement it's you," Ray pointed out.
"WHAT?" Archer shouted.
"Archer let's be honest," Pam said. "You're not exactly at the top of your game anymore."
"Why does everyone keep saying that?" Archer snapped. "I'm the world's greatest secret agent! I'm not some over the hill has been in denial! Remember how I easily ferreted out Krenshaw as a mole in our agency?"
"Yeah," Pam looked at him. "When you were 35. That was fourteen years ago!"
"We've been together that long?" Cyril blinked. "Dear God…"
"So?" Archer scoffed. "I'm still…Hang on."
"He's trying to do the math in his head isn't he?" Cyril sighed.
"Yuuup," Lana nodded at Archer's confused look.
"Wait, wait…" Archer blinked. "That can't be! Anybody have a…?"
Cyril handed Archer his calculator. "Calculator. Oh. These things are handy."
"Told you," Cyril sighed.
"You know there's a calculator in your phones too, right?" Cheryl rolled her eyes. "Old people!"
"I'M NOT OLD!" Archer snapped. "If anyone is old it's Cyril!"
Cyril looked at Archer. "You know I'm four years younger than you, right?"
"Seriously?" Archer did a double take.
"Yeah, the gray temples are genetic," Cyril nodded. "But you're older. Fourteen years older than when you were 35!"
"Hang on," Archer held up his hand and went to work on the calculator. "Okay I was thirty-five when that whole Krenshaw thing happened. And add fourteen years to that makes me…OH MY GOD!"
"And he's figured it out," Ray sighed as he drank another mimosa. "We're gonna need more mimosas here!"
"A bucket full of them!" Archer shouted. "Oh my God! I'm…No. No. No. No. No!"
"It's depressing, isn't it?" Cheryl quipped. "How old you are?"
"You're fourteen years older too!" Archer snapped.
"Yeah, but I totally lied about my age when I went to work for your mom," Cheryl revealed. "I was only 17 when I joined. I had a fake ID and everything. I just put my hair up and used makeup to make me look old enough."
"You were only 17 when you joined us?" Lana asked. "That explains a lot."
"Yeah, I just graduated high school and got my certification from the mental institution," Cheryl nodded. "Dad wouldn't pay for college because he said education was a waste for women in my tax bracket so I decided to go to work just to do something. I was bored and there was a monsoon or something in Cancun, okay?"
"That explains a few more things," Lana groaned. "Wait your father approved of you being an administrative assistant?"
"He didn't know I was actually an assistant," Cheryl waved. "I told him I was pretending to work as one…"
"So far not a lie," Pam injected.
Cheryl went on. "To investigate a company for him to possibly buy and take over. That made him happy. Of course, he and Mother died in that car crash within a year so I forgot all about it."
"And another piece of the puzzle is filled," Lana added.
"You told me once you went to college," Pam said to Cheryl.
"Yeah, to parties," Cheryl looked at her. "What? You think I'm dumb enough to enroll in classes?"
"Your words," Ray remarked.
"Wait hang on…" Archer did a double take.
"I was 18 when we had sex," Cheryl rolled her eyes. "My birthday was like a week later. And we didn't have sex until like three weeks after I joined. What? It wasn't like I was a virgin or anything."
"So you're only…" Pam blinked. "Damn girl."
"Yeah I'm in my prime while the rest of you are all over the hill," Cheryl giggled.
"Huh," Ray remarked. "I never would have pegged you as being able to live over thirty."
"Thanks," Cheryl said cheerfully.
"Now I'm really depressed," Archer groaned.
"You want to know what's really depressing?" Ray sighed. "I'm two years older than you! That's depressing!"
"Yeah, but you're a cyborg," Pam pointed out. "Almost all your parts have been replaced anyway. New knees, new legs, new hand…"
"And Ray," Cheryl said. "Your skin is like…perfect! I am so jealous of you sometimes I'm tempted to throw acid in your face!"
"Thank you," Ray grinned. "I do have a good moisturizing regimen."
"He does," Lana nodded.
Cheryl looked at Archer. "You might want to look into that."
"I NEED MORE ALCOHOL! NOW!" Archer shouted.
"That's not gonna help," Krieger remarked.
Meanwhile at another table…
"This is a really nice place," Howard said as he drank some coffee. "I'm glad we did this."
"See?" Gordon said as he ate some waffles. "A good assassin is only hungry for his target! Plus, you do get cranky if you don't eat."
"Yeah, I mean these waffles aren't good for my blood sugar but who cares?" Howard ate some. "I can work it off."
Greg looked at his phone. "I got a text from Joyce from Squad 7. She made it to Costa Rica. Director Green wasn't so lucky. The Feds picked him up at the airport."
"Damn," Howard frowned. "How did she get away?"
"They went in separate cars and she changed cars twice as well as her disguise," Greg said.
"No big loss, Green's an idiot," Gordon grunted. "Wait, should you be getting texts from other agents on your phone?"
"It's a burner phone," Howard explained. "And we all need to know where other surviving agents are in case of emergency or reconstruction. You know about Project Phoenix. It was in your handbook."
"Yes, I know about Project Phoenix," Gordon hissed. "I'm just saying Green could spill the beans on that and they could use any burner phones to track us down."
"Relax," Howard waved. "By the time they get anything out of Green the rest of us will be long into the wind."
"Speaking of which," Greg winced. "I think it was a mistake to try the breakfast enchiladas. Excuse me…" He left the table.
"Personally, I don't think Project Phoenix is going to work anyway," Howard sighed. "I know a lot of agents who were getting sick of IIA and all the stupid paperwork. As well as getting their pay deducted for every stupid bullet fired. I know for a fact Vance from Diamond Squad decided to retire. He's going back to Australia and work on his family's ranch."
"Good for him," Gordon nodded.
"Even if IIA does resurrect itself it won't be half as powerful as it was," Howard sighed. "Did you hear the news that they caught White Bishop?"
"White Bishop?" Gordon hissed quietly. "One of the secret founders of IIA? And a member of the Secret Board of Directors? How did that happen? Even Fabian didn't know who he was! We didn't know who he was!"
"Nobody knew who he was," Howard told him. "That's the point. Long story short he made some friends he shouldn't have. Apparently not only was he in Jeffrey Epstein's phone book but there are pictures of him on the island and…"
"Oh, for crying out loud!" Gordon snapped. "Isn't the number one rule of being on a secret council to not get caught in a sex scandal?"
"Apparently Lord Terrance Chumley the Thirteenth didn't get the message," Howard explained. "It's all over the news now. He's singing like Freddie Mercury to avoid prosecution and you know he's naming names."
"Oh great so we might have to assassinate him next?" Gordon groaned. "Wait, we had a guy named Terrance Chumley the Thirteenth on our secret board?"
"I know," Howard remarked. "Not exactly a name to inspire fear. Or judging from his picture an overbite."
"Yikes," Gordon looked at the picture on Howard's phone. "Just figured out why the secret board stayed a secret."
"I'm telling you Gordon," Howard said. "I'm tempted to let this assassination be our last one if you get my drift."
"You mean abandon IIA and disappear completely?" Gordon asked. "Like half the people we know?"
"There's not exactly much of an agency left now is there?" Howard asked. "Don't say anything to Greg yet. I'm not so sure we can trust him. We'll talk later."
"You guys will not believe this!" Greg hissed as he sat down. "Guess who I saw across the room? Sterling Archer and the entire Agency!"
"What?" Howard gasped. "What are they doing here?"
"Having brunch," Greg pointed.
"What the hell…?" Howard looked.
"HEY! WAITER!" Archer shouted. "A PITCHER OF BOTTOMLESS MIMOSAS POR FAVOR! AND THEN POUR ME SOME SCOTCH!"
"That's him all right," Howard groaned.
"What are the odds?" Gordon blinked.
"What do we do?" Greg whispered. "Do we…Do it now?"
"In a restaurant full of witnesses?" Gordon snapped. "What is this? Your first day?"
"We leave when they leave and follow them," Howard remarked. "Or when an opportunity arrives. Right now, just play it cool."
"So…Do we finish brunch or…?" Greg blinked. "It's a legitimate question!"
"He just ordered a pitcher of bottomless mimosas and some scotch," Howard remarked. "He's not going anywhere for a while. We've got time."
"HEY WAITER!" Archer called out. "PUT A RUSH ON THOSE MIMOSAS! AND THE SCOTCH! LEAVE THE BOTTLE!"
"AND GET US A FEW MORE BOTTLES OF MAPLE SYRUP!" Pam was heard shouting. "THE REAL STUFF FROM MAINE! AND MORE WAFFLES!"
"MORE WAFFLES!" Cheryl, Ray and Krieger cheered.
"Oh good," Gordon said cheerfully. "No need to rush through our meal. Which is good because I could go for more waffles."
"They are good waffles," Howard admitted. "I might have some too."
"GOD, I NEED MORE ALCOHOL!" Archer shouted.
"And some more coffee," Howard added.
Back at The Agency's table…
"I can't believe I'm almost…" Archer groaned. "I mean…How did the time go by so fast?"
Ray remarked. "To be fair you were unconscious for a lot of it."
"And not just the three-year coma," Pam added. "You've been plastered more times than a house renovation."
"I mean yeah I've had an amazing life and career," Archer remarked. "I'm the world's greatest spy…"
"Debatable," Ray and Lana said at the same time.
Archer ignored them and went on. "I've been all over the world…"
"Destroying half of it," Cyril added.
Archer kept going. "Slept with the most beautiful women in the world…"
Pam added. "And quite a few lady boy hookers."
"And gave tongue to Ramon," Lana added.
"I was a pirate king," Archer mused.
"Whose crew mutinied against you after a week," Lana added.
Archer kept going. "I was a detective in LA."
"Unlicensed detective in LA!" Cyril pointed out.
"Astronaut," Archer mused.
"Who crashed the space shuttle," Ray snapped. "And paralyzed me!"
"I was a bartender in a tropical resort for a while," Archer thought aloud.
"Who made more divorces than drinks," Cheryl quipped. "You were also a failed burger flipper in a failed restaurant and married to some crazy lady with kids. It that helps."
"It helps me," Cyril grinned.
Archer went on. "I was an airline pilot who fought Nazis in World War I and the beginning of World War Two…"
"Uh….What?" Lana blinked.
"The captain of my own spaceship," Archer spoke up. "Okay Lana…Co-Captain! Happy?"
"Not at this moment," Lana blinked.
"And he thinks I'm delusional?" Cheryl blinked.
"You are," Ray said. "But this is a whole different level."
"Uh Archer?" Pam coughed. "That whole Nazi spaceship thing never happened."
Archer blinked. "Are you sure?"
"Definitely," Pam nodded.
"Oh good," Archer sighed. "Then that means I'm also not a cannibal! That's a relief!"
"Yeah," Cyril said in a worried tone. "It kind of is."
"Okay Cyril," Lana groaned. "I think I see your point."
"Some of us are definitely ready for retirement," Krieger added.
Four men dressed in black suits pulled out their guns from a nearby table. "Too bad you won't get to enjoy it!" The leader snarled.
"What the…?" Lana did a double take.
"Oh, hell no!" Howard shouted. He and the other two pulled out their guns and ran towards them. "Don't even think about it!"
"Howard?" The leader of the second group of assassins did a double take. "What the hell are you doing here? Are you protecting them?"
"No! I'm here to stop you from killing our targets before we get a chance to!" Howard shouted.
"What?" Ray did a double take.
"And now everyone is screaming," Howard groaned as most of the other patrons of the restaurant yelled and screamed and started to run away. "Way to go assholes! And for once I'm not talking about Archer and his gang of idiots!"
"Way to make a scene amateurs!" Gordon snapped.
"We're not getting any more drinks, are we?" Archer groaned.
"Hang on! I know you!" Ray pointed at Howard. "You're from IIA!"
"We're all from IIA!" The leader of the second group of men snapped. "And we're here to assassinate you lot!"
"Uh no! That's our job!" Howard shouted.
Cyril turned to the others. "You see this is exactly what I was talking about!"
"You have a point," Ray groaned.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU GUYS DOING HERE?" Howard shouted at the other group of assassins.
"Well, we stopped for brunch," One of the men admitted. "And then we saw these guys…"
"One of the top bosses at IIA hired us to take out The Agency," Another man admitted.
"That's what we've been hired to do!" Howard shouted.
"Who hired you?" Gordon snapped. "Because I can assure you, we're higher ranked than you!"
"Yeah, this is our assassination," Greg snapped.
"No! It's ours!" Another group of assassins stood up from their table and pulled their guns out.
"And of course, more guys with guns pop up," Cyril grumbled. "Like a demented low budget comedy film."
"That is rather predictable," Cheryl agreed.
"Stan what the hell are you doing here?" Howard shouted.
"Uh my job?" Stan told him. "We've been ordered to assassinate The Agency. You know? After brunch."
"What is this?" Archer snapped. "An assassin brunch restaurant chain?"
"Great call guys," Lana glared at the others. "Good job picking this place."
"Hey the waffles and the mimosas are great!" Pam snapped. "It's not our fault for picking a good place to eat!"
"Yeah, it's their fault for lousy timing," Stan pointed to the second group of assassins. "Really guys? In the middle of brunch with a ton of witnesses?"
"What is this?" Greg mocked. "Your first day?"
"What did someone flunk out of Assassination 101?" Archer mocked. "Who does a hit at brunch?"
"I know right?" Stan asked.
"We were going to wait until after you guys left the restaurant but somebody jumped the gun!" Howard snapped. "Thanks a lot, jerks!"
"Hey we were just done brunch and…" The leader of the second group began.
"Uh I was still eating," One of the members of the second group spoke up.
"Me too!" Another one said. "You couldn't wait another ten minutes? I mean they weren't going anywhere."
"I could have had some more waffles," Gordon added.
"Me too!" Krieger spoke up.
"You're Opal Squad, aren't you?" Stan asked the second group. "Typical."
"Hey we're up and coming!" The leader of the second group snapped. "Especially since Ruby Squad got killed!"
"Wait Ruby Squad is dead?" Howard gasped. "Did they get captured? Or…?"
"No, the other day they went to this bad sushi joint and most of them got food poisoning," Another man from the second group explained. "Never order the blowfish at a place where the chef has unsteady hands."
"Even I think that's reckless," Archer admitted.
"All I wanted was a nice brunch," Cyril grabbed a mimosa and drank it. "Is that too much to ask? Is it?"
"No, it is not," Archer admitted after also taking a drink. "You have a right to be upset."
"Thank you!" Cyril groaned.
"Seriously?" Archer snapped. "You people couldn't wait until we were finished? What the hell was your rush?"
"Tell me about it," Gordon grumbled. "Some people are just too impatient!"
"You know we get paid hourly right?" Greg asked.
Lana looked at Archer. "IIA's gone huh? Out of our lives forever you said!"
"I believe you were a tad premature on that statement," Krieger quipped.
"Look this is our hit," Howard spoke up.
"We were here first!" The leader of the second group snapped.
"You can't call dibs on an assassination!" Howard shouted.
"Yeah well White Bishop himself ordered this hit," Stan snapped. "So our group gets seniority anyway."
"You mean Terrance Chumley The Thirteenth?" Gordon asked sarcastically.
"White Bishop is a high ranking…" Stan stopped. "Really? Terrance Chumley is his name?"
"The thirteenth," Howard added. "It's on the news."
Stan blinked. "Terrance Chumley the Thirteenth? Now I just feel like a tool!"
"Wait until you see his picture," Gordon groaned. "You'll feel even worse."
Krieger whispered. "Archer, can I see Cyril's calculator for a moment?"
"Look I need this bounty, okay?" The leader of the second group snapped.
"And the rest of us don't?" Greg snapped.
"My kid needs braces," The leader of the second group told them.
"Wayne, I've seen pictures of your son," Stan said. "You're gonna need a lot more than braces to fix his looks."
"How about I fix your looks with a bullet?" Wayne snapped pointing his gun at Stan.
"Really?" Stan pointed his gun at him back. "You really want to do this? Now?"
"Maybe I do?" Wayne snapped.
"Will you idiots calm down?" Howard snapped.
"Shut up!" Wayne shouted as he pointed his gun at Howard.
"You're not our supervisor!" Stan shouted as he pointed his gun at Howard.
"And you're not our supervisor!" Wayne glared at Stan. Soon all the assassins were pointing their weapons at each other.
"Hang on! Hang on!" Gordon shouted. "Look we all want The Agency dead right? That's the main goal here. So why don't we all work together to kill them? And then we can worry about the bounty later over dinner tonight."
"That depends," Stan remarked. "Where do you want to eat?"
"Well not Italian because for some reason Gordon thinks it's racist," Greg remarked. "We were thinking of steak."
"I could go for steak," Wayne remarked.
"Yeah, steak's good," Stan agreed. "I know Marty's is on vacation…"
"I know a good place," Wayne said.
"Okay so we kill The Agency," Howard suggested. "Then we go…Well it's too early for dinner because we had brunch. Hang out at a safehouse for a bit then go to dinner?"
"Good plan. I agree. Yeah, I'm down with that," The other assassins agreed.
"Right! Let's do this!" Howard called out.
They turned to shoot at The Agency. Only to find that they were gone.
"Where the hell did they go?" Howard blinked.
"Damn it!" Gordon groaned. "Did they take off while we were…?"
"Yuuup," Stan groaned. "Hey what's that on the table?"
Greg picked it up. "It looks like a calculator attached to…"
Howard and Gordon realized what was happening. "BOMB!" They screamed and started to run.
"Huh?" Greg, Stan and Wayne blinked.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
KA-BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
A very short time later The Agency was watching the huge fire at a discreet distance. "Best brunch ever!" Cheryl squealed. "WHOO!"
"Good plan Krieger," Lana said.
"Never fails," Krieger smiled. "I always carry my Krieger Explosive Putty, patent pending and a little charger. All I needed was the calculator and voila! Instant real bomb!"
"Cyril I really apologize for the calculator crack I made," Archer said. "Calculators are handy! I'll buy you a new one."
"It's okay," Cyril waved. "That was my backup calculator anyway. Ooh! Now I have an excuse to buy a new one!"
"What an exciting life you lead Cyril Figgis," Pam said sarcastically.
"We were almost blown up at brunch by three different assassination squads sent by IIA!" Cyril snapped. "I'd say my life is a bit too exciting!"
"So much for IIA not being in our lives anymore," Ray grumbled.
"Well not those guys anyway," Pam remarked.
"Okay if anybody asks," Lana sighed. "We were never here. We just happened to see the fire on our way to brunch."
"We are more than familiar with the drill," Ray told her.
"The good news is we don't have to pay for brunch," Krieger said. "The bad news is we lost another place that makes good waffles. Shame."
"Guys," Cyril said. "We really need to stop doing things like this."
"Cyril's right," Archer sighed. "Even I have to admit this is starting to get old."
"Like you," Cheryl grinned.
"You know?" Archer glared at her.
On the other side of the fire…
"That did not go well," Howard groaned. He and Gordon were covered in ashes and their clothes were torn. "Especially for Greg."
"Well Greg's dead," Gordon sighed. "Several of our guys are also dead. And we lost another place that makes good waffles. Now what?"
Howard thought a moment. "New plan. We take all the cash we can drain from this credit card. Use this fire to fake our deaths. Change our names. Move to Florida and open up a small bar slash mercenary business. I know some Cubans down there who owe me a favor. And are looking for a business partner."
"Good plan," Gordon nodded. "I'll go pack."
"Yeah, screw the whole spy thing," Howard groaned as they left. "Let Sterling Archer and The Agency be someone else's problem!"