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BA looked up at the massive gates

Incident at the Gates

By Junkfoodmonkey


Rating: PG

Summary:  Humorous story about a gatekeeper who meets some interesting folks.

Warning: Well, technically it's a death story, but not a sad one, I hope.  Some stuff that Christians might consider disrespectful.  That’s not my intent, just playing with some clichés here.

Parts: Complete

Disclaimer: The A-Team does not belong to me, I'm not making any money from this.  I don't dare think about who owns the rights to Peter.



Incident at the Gates


BA looked up at the massive gates.  They were… pearly.


"Hey, fool," he turned to the large man with the huge white beard who was welcoming the steady stream of people that walked through the gates.  "How did I get here?  What is this place?"   A second ago he'd been desperately firing at the hooded attackers that had stormed into the Langley compound in the middle of a briefing.  He'd heard his gun click empty and then he was here.  It was very light and airy and there was choral music that seemed to come from all directions.


"Mr Baracus, welcome, welcome." The bearded man said, with a beautiful smile that radiated peace and happiness.  This just had the effect of making BA even angrier.


"Welcome to what, suckah?"


"Heaven, Mr Baracus, Heaven."


He knew it was true instantly; the surroundings left little room for argument.


"Ah'm dead?"


"You're what?"  It was Face's voice behind him, he spun around.


"Dead, Faceman.  We're dead.  This is heaven."  Face frowned.


"So this guy is…?"


"Peter, Saint Peter, yes."  Peter confirmed.  "Welcome Mr Peck.  Please, don't look so surprised.  There isn't a mistake, you are meant to be here."  Face looked relieved.


"But ah don't wanna be here," BA said, "Ah mean not yet, ah gotta help the guys, Hannibal, Murdock, Fa…" He stopped; he was a little too late to help Face.


"I saw you hit," Face said, "When those guys stormed in.  Hannibal told us to fall back to the kitchen, then… then I was here."


"You look different."  BA said.  "Younger."  He looked harder at Face, he was no longer wearing jeans and a shirt, but a tailored dark blue silk suit, his hair was like spun gold, his eyes like the ocean on a sunny day.  He looked beautiful.


"You too," Face said.  BA's muscles were like polished mahogany, his hair tall, and his gold dazzling.  He looked spectacular.


Peter looked impatient, in a saintly kind of way.


"Gentlemen, if you would care to proceed," he waved a hand at the gates.


"No way," BA said, "I wanna go back."




"That's right, back to Langley, to help Hannibal and the guys!  You'd betta sort that out right now, suckah!"


"BA, don't call Saint Peter, 'suckah'," said Face, sounding a little scandalized.  He went over to the gatekeeper.


"Pete, can I call you Pete?" He put an arm across Peter's shoulders, smiled a dazzling Smile at him.  "Look, you're a big cheese around here, right?  Jesus' right hand man, I know you can arrange something, give us a few minutes even, a quick return trip, to let us help our friends.  C'mon, it's a good cause. And if while we're down there there's anything we can bring back for you, just name it.  You look like a man who likes a good cigar, I've got a connection that can get me the best Cubans, the best!"


"Face, quit trying ta scam Saint Peter."  BA said.


"Oh lordy, lord!  It's all true!"  Murdock had just appeared from thin air beside them.  He instantly accepted the situation with the equanimity of a man who lived half his life on a different level of reality than most people.  He shook Peter's hand enthusiastically.  "Saint Peter, right?  I love the huge beard, great look, really patriarchal.  Now where do I get my wings?  Ooh and a harp too, I get a harp, don't I?  This is great."


"Great?"  Face said.  "Murdock, we're dead."


"Well at least we all went out together."  Hannibal said, materialising at Murdock's side.  Peter coughed meaningfully and looked at the No Smoking sign that appeared and hung unsupported in the air as Hannibal took out a cigar.


"This is Heaven and I can't smoke?"  Hannibal said, horrified at the prospect of eternity without tobacco.


"There are designated smoking areas inside.  It will all be explained in your orientation session," Peter said.  "The next one starts in five minutes," he added, trying to drop a hint to them that they should move along.


"Wait," Murdock said.  "Where's Frankie?"


"Mr Santana won't be joining you for some time yet."  Peter said.  "He is currently running extremely fast across a field in Virginia.  His erm… appointment isn't scheduled for another forty three years, eight months and seventeen days."


"Nice!"  Hannibal grinned.  "Okay guys, we're here, lets reconnoitre the place."  They started to move towards the gates, when they heard a sound behind them; it was the only incongruous note any of them had heard here.  It was a nasty squealing sound like metal under stress.  It ended with a horrible cracking, like something very expensive breaking, and another figure appeared out of the air.  Dark suit and yellow glasses.


"I don't believe it."  Hannibal said.


"Hello, gentlemen.  Have you seen any of the Ables? I really need to speak to them about their lamentable performance today."  He walked towards the gates and ran into an out-thrust arm clad in the purest shimmering samite.


"Not so fast, General Stockwell."  Peter said, "You appear to have taken a wrong turning, how did you get through that door marked 'No Admittance?'"  Stockwell just looked smug.  Peter waved a hand and a white telephone appeared out of the air, floated beside him.  He picked up the receiver and dialled 4355.  He had a brief conversation in a foreign language.  A second after he put the phone down they became aware of a sound, like a thousand shrieking demons hurtling very fast towards them.  A hole appeared in the insubstantial cloudy ground, flames roared up from it, followed by a thousand shrieking demons.  They swarmed around Stockwell and dragged him screaming into the hole.  The last of the demons to vanish back down the hole mooned them, then plunged downwards and vanished as the hole closed up with a cracking sound.  The A-Team stared at the spot where their ex boss had vanished.


"Why does it have to be a thousand demons?"  Peter complained, sounding disgusted, brushing down his robe.  "One would be enough, but no, they have to be showy."


"Yeah, but I expect they've been impatient to get their hands on Stockwell for a while now."  Hannibal said.


"Probably got a devil put aside for him."  Murdock said.  Peter rolled his eyes.


"Please, gentlemen.  Eternity awaits you."


"Eternity with the fool."  BA said.  "Oh man," but he took Murdock's arm when it was offered, linked his other with Face's, who linked his with Hannibal's.  They walked through the gates together to disappear into the brilliant light.  Peter smiled.  What odd people.





Incidental Injuries by Junkfoodmonkey
Incident At The Gates by Junkfoodmonkey



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