Halloween 2000 A-Team Style
by T 'n' T
Warning: Might be scary... if you're an actor
Summary: Face, Murdock and B.A. go to a Halloween Party.
Disclaimer: Of course, the characters and the show, collectively known as the A-Team, don't belong to me. I am only borrowing them for dubious, non-profit, purposes that harm no one. E-mail addresses are fictional, but please do not use them in case some innocent person acquires them in the future.
Murdock tried the phone number again. "...please hang up and try again." He sighed and looked at the crumpled piece of paper and the number written in pencil. It must be a good two years old. He should have kept in closer touch with B.A..
There was the sound of a small crash behind him. Murdock whirled around to see one of his potted plants lying next to the coffee table. Face didn't seem to notice. He swirled his cape again. "Hey, isn't this great. It fits perfectly."
Murdock cocked his head and said critically. "What's it supposed to be?"
Face looked hurt. "It's a Battlestar Galactica star fighter pilot. Couldn't you get a hold of B.A.? And shouldn't you be getting into your costume?"
Murdock glanced at his Looney Tunes wall clock. "We've still got time. The party doesn't start for another couple of hours."
Face grimaced. "Los Angeles traffic, going down the 101 at rush hour on a Tuesday."
"Okay, I'll get ready." Murdock ducked into the next room.
Face sat down carefully in the large arm chair, put his feet up on the coffee table and admired his boots. He'd just started to relax when there was a loud pounding on the door. With a groan, Face lifted himself out of the chair and went to open the door.
B.A. was standing there, impatiently. His dark blue tailored suit was set off by tasteful gold feather earrings dangling from each ear, no tie and a mere two gold chains around his neck. "What are you supposed to be?" Face asked him.
B.A. scowled and looked down at himself. "Whattaya mean, Faceman? These are my work clothes." He wrinkled his nose. "I don't dress up for Halloween."
Face moved aside so B.A. could enter. "How'd you find us?'
B.A shrugged. "Amy left me a voice mail, said you guys were lookin' for me. You in trouble?"
As if on cue, Murdock emerged from the bedroom, resplendent in a gold and black uniform. B.A. sighed and shook his head. Face, on the other hand was delighted to able to place it. "You're a Starfleet Lieutenant, engineering, right?"
Murdock turned slowly around to give them the full effect. B.A. shook his head again. "You guys watch too much old TV. And you didn't answer my question. There some kind of trouble?"
Murdock was staring at him. "What are you supposed to be?"
B.A. scowled. "Why does everybody keep asking me that? I'm not s'posed to be anybody but me. And if somebody don't answer my question, I'm going to be in a real bad mood."
Hastily, Face supplied the answer. "No, nothing's wrong. We just wanted you to go to this party with us."
B.A. didn't look any less exasperated. "Why didn't you just send me an e-mail?"
Face and Murdock looked at each other, and said almost simultaneously. "We didn't know you had one."
B.A. heaved a heavy long-suffering sigh. He fished two cards out of his inside suit pocket, and handed one to each of them.
Murdock examined his and read out loud. "B.A. Baracus, CEO TeknoSec, Computer Security Consultants since 1996." He located the e-mail address in small type in the left hand corner. "firstname.lastname@example.org."
B.A. smiled, a little bit smugly, "Don't you guys have e-mail addresses?"
"Sure," Face said as he pulled out his wallet. He started going through the pile of cards. "No, they shut down that service.... No, wouldn't want anyone to track me down through that one. Ah, here we go..."
Face handed B.A. one of the cards. B.A. read it and looked disgusted and moved to put it in his pocket. Murdock snatched it out of his hand before he could complete the action, and read that one aloud as well. "Psychic Buddies, Your on-line door to the future" He searched the rest of the ornate card for the e-mail address. "email@example.com. Isn't that where spam comes from?"
B.A. looked significantly at the elaborate combination stereo/computer set up that Murdock had in one corner of his living room. Murdock followed his gaze. "I don't have my own e-mail address. I just use other people's."
B.A. knew better than to ask for more details. "Well, where's this party you want to go to?"
"Sheraton Universal," Face told him. "A producer friend of mine invited us. I think we may be on the verge of a major deal."
The three old friends hurried down the two flights of stairs to the street. Murdock hopped over to his beat-up tan Plymouth. B.A. stopped him before he unlocked the door. "You don't want to go in that, if Face is meeting some fancy movie producer." B.A. let out a piercing whistle and a huge black limousine appeared. "'We'll take my ride."
They climbed in. Murdock looked around at the plush interior. "A family of four could live in here and still have a guest room, big guy."
B.A. shrugged. "It's not as good as my van, but it'll do."
They chatted as the limo weaved it's way through rush hour traffic, about B.A.'s business, Face's ventures, and Murdock's part time job as a helicopter pilot for a local television station. They finally arrived at the hotel. Face adjusted his costume as he got out of the car. "B.A. aren't you going to feel a little out of place without a Halloween Costume?"
Murdock rummaged around in his fanny pack, which went so well with the Starfleet uniform. Triumphantly he pulled out a pair of glasses with a big rubber nose and moustache attached. He passed them over to B.A., who took hold of them carefully, as if they might bite. "I'm not wearing these," he declared.
"In case of emergency," Murdock said solemnly. A puzzled B.A. just shook his head and held on to the glasses. They were walking through the hotel lobby when B.A. suddenly stopped and stared at a potted plant over by the elevators. He shook his head and muttered to himself.
"What's wrong?" asked Murdock who'd been directly behind him and was hard-pressed not to run into him in true comedy-routine style.
B.A. looked distressed. "I thought I saw somebody I knew. But I didn't." He continued to look ill-at ease as they entered the ballroom. It was already crowded. Face scanned the crowd for his movie producer friend, and did a double-take. About a quarter of the men in the room were wearing khaki pants, t-shirts, and blue baseball caps. Another group was dressed in nice suits or black leather jackets.
He glanced over at B.A. who looked rather deeply offended, probably because of the multitude of oddly dressed black men with long-feathered earrings and tons of gold around their necks. But what made the hair on the back of his neck rise was the guys with the black leather gloves, off-white jackets, and silvered hair.
"What kind of a joke, is this, man?" B.A. asked.
Murdock was staring wide-eyed at a young lady, dressed pertly in the height of eighties fashion. "I think you better put on the nose and glasses now, big guy."
A clearly drunk, B.A. clone stumbled up to them. "Ish mine," he loudly informed them. "I tell you, I was meant to play this part." One of his feathered earrings fell out. "Damn! I hate that." He glared at B.A. "What are you supposed to be?" B.A. only growled in response.
Murdock looked at the drunk more closely, "My god, it's Eddie Murphy and look over there..." he pointed at the bar. "There's the Wayan Brothers, and Denzel Washington, and Will Smith, all dressed up like you B.A."
B.A. put on the nose and glasses. "We got get outta here." He moved towards the doors, but Face was not with them. He was being dragged away by fake Faces, one of them, B.A. could swear, was Tom Cruise. Murdock was still by his side and seemed remarkably calm. B.A. turned back, "We have to help Face."
Murdock smiled, shook his head and tapped his com badge. "One to beam up." He disappeared in a sparkling beam of light.
"No!" B.A shouted. "Come back, we're in trouble here." The fake B.A.s began to close in on him.
Mr. T awoke with a start. His extra-extra large TV Land t-shirt was bathed in sweat. "What a nightmare," he muttered. "No more giant Baby Ruths for Mr. T right before bed time." He shook the dreams away as he went to get himself a nice warm glass of milk.
Copyright 2000 by T 'n' T.