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Disclaimer: I don't own any A-Team characters, they're not mine, I'm just borrowing them, so please don't sue me.
Warnings: None, except for the gruesome death of a few cars and the utter humiliation of the MPs. This is simple (aw, alright, confusing) character exploration. And oh yeah, the baddie uses one swear word.
Summary: A typical TAT car chase, from thirteen different points of view. Decker, Crane, and two MPs chasing the Team chasing the two baddies who have taken Amy hostage, all of which chased me all over the place before I got this written. Please note that 'POV' stands for point of view.
Comments: Please do! On list or off, whichever you prefer. This is purposefully un-beta-read, and the sole intent is as a 'scientific experiment' to see what kinds of reactions I'll get. Tee hee hee.
Author's Notes: I just love this . . . I'm going to tell you (roughly) the same short story thirteen times in a row, and do my humble best as a writer to make you like it...
Copyright 2001, by Adalia
"Um, Colonel? You might want to get back in the van, now . . ."
Right as if on cue, which I admit that they were, the drums of oil to the right of the black van exploded. The shock wave knocked the silver-haired man, who had been busy taunting the military, backwards through the front passenger-side door, which was standing open, and into the front passenger-side seat. I've always known the Colonel to be rather batty, and this was yet another example of his reckless tendencies. It's true, the man is crazy. Cheerfully so.
The large man who sat scowling in the driver's seat wasted no time in stomping on the gas pedal, causing the door the older man had just been knocked through to swing shut as the van jumped forwards and away from the quickly spreading flames and the two military cars that immediately gave chase.
The van sped off, giving a chase of its own after a pale blue pickup truck that was driven by the two thugs who had set off the explosion hoping to get away, not knowing it was on my cue. The men in the van were chasing the pickup because tied up in the back was a friend of theirs, a reporter who often tagged along and later told their story in her newspaper.
A blonde man in an expensive looking suit reached over from the passenger-side bucket seat in the back to help his friend in the front seat sit up. The tall man in the leather jacket who had asked the Colonel to get back in the van in the first place looked skyward, his opinion that the Colonel was a man touched by God (by this he meant Me) thus reaffirmed, and whispered, "Thank you, God! Beautiful timing and amazing aim on that one."
Why, thank you. And you're welcome. I do so love it when a plan comes together. What, surprised to see Me using the Colonel's catch phrase? Where do you think he got it from?
BADDIE #1 POV
"Jake, quick, he's not looking, shoot the oil drums," I said to my buddy, who was sitting in the back of the truck with our hostage, that reporter girl the A-Team always had with them. We'd nabbed her, easy, but now we were having trouble getting away with her.
Jake leaned over and took aim at the oil drums. That Smith guy, their leader, was standing between the drums and his van, facing away from us and taunting the two cars full of military guys who were obviously chasing him and his team. This one military guy was pointing a gun right at Smith. I remember thinking that Smith must be insane before something in the van caught my attention.
I heard a voice from inside the van telling the Colonel to move it, and realized that one of them must have seen Jake aiming. I pulled my own gun, aimed willy-nilly, and the two of us shot together and managed to blow up the stack of oil drums. The explosion seemed to knock Smith into the van and close
the door after him. The van's wheels spun and the thing came right towards us, so I slammed my own gas pedal and took off. I could hear the girl screaming through her gag in the back and Jake telling her to shut up in between firing shots off at the black van with the annoying red detailing.
Checking in my rear view mirror I saw the van and one of the two military cars on our tail. I looked up again in time to see a sign the warned of a bridge that was out just ahead. I knew we could never make it over the bridge, I'd seen it just after it first went out. Too bad I'd forgotten that it was there since then, though.
"Oh, shit! We're not gonna get away with this one, Jake!" I shouted back to my partner. What were we expecting, anyway? We were up against the A-Team.
BADDIE #2 POV
"Jake, quick! He's not looking! Shoot the oil drums!" my buddy Frank shouted back to me. I took another look at pile of oil drums and decided that it wasn't such a bad idea. That nut-case Colonel from the A-Team was busy holding a staring contest with the military guy, so I figured I could get a shot or two at the drums, easy. That Colonel's got to be crazy. But it's his funeral, I thought, and aimed past him at the oil drums.
That's when the darned girl started kicking me. I told her to shut up and aimed again. I heard somebody yelling something in the van, and then I fired. Frank fired over my shoulder, spooking me and making me fall over on the girl as the oil drums exploded and the pickup took off. I sat up, pushing the girl off me, and firing at the van, which was following us.
The girl started screaming and kicking, and I alternated between telling her to shut up and firing at the van. One of the military cars was shooting at the van, too, from behind, and I figured that maybe between us we could get a tire or two and Frank and I could make a clean getaway.
Then I heard Frank yelling, "Oh, shit! We're not gonna get away with this one, Jake!" I looked up at the him in the cab, only to see that the bridge we
were heading for was out. Just as that stupid reporter was kicking me again I realized we had probably been doomed from the beginning.
Nobody beats the A-Team.
"Jake! Quick, he's not looking, shoot the oil drums!" I heard the goon in the cab yelling at his partner who was currently busy stuffing a gag in my mouth. He stopped stuffing to look around at the oil drums and the general situation in the yard behind us.
All of the guys except for Hannibal where in the van, with Hannibal standing just outside his open door and leering happily at Decker and his flunkies. He had a cigar, as per usual. And also as per usual, Decker was pointing a gun at him and telling him that, and I quote, "I've got you this time, Smith." Hannibal must be totally and completely INSANE to do this over and over again. But hey, that's why we love him . . . . ahem. To continue.
I noticed that the goon was aiming not at Hannibal, but over him and at the oil drums. He was taking his buddy's advice. I couldn't just let him shoot the drums and blow up the guys, so I kicked him. But he just told me to shut up and aimed again. A split second later I heard Murdock yell at Hannibal to get back in the van, and then the goon fired. The one in the cab fired, too, and they blew up the entire stack of oil drums.
The pickup took off abruptly, knocking the guy in the back over on top of me. He sat up and pushed me away, leaning over to fire at the van. I looked over his shoulder and saw that Hannibal was inside the van and all of them looked mostly alright. Without bothering to wonder how he got back in the van before the explosion I began to scream and kick the thug to throw his aim off and help the guys.
It didn't seem to do much good. He just kept firing and telling me to shut up. I heard more shots coming from the other side of the van, and I knew that Decker was following us, too.
Just then I heard the guy in the cab yell, "Oh, shit! We're not gonna get away with this, Jake!" The guy next to me stopped shooting long enough to look
towards the front of the truck. I watched in frustration as his expression turned to one of fascinated horror.
Wondering what the heck was up, I decided to kick him one more time for good measure. I hadn't thought I'd kicked him hard enough to register that look of utter defeat he gave me, but then we went flying off the broken end of a bridge and into a ditch.
I landed half upside down with my foot in the goon's face. I kicked at him again and waited impatiently for the team to come get me. What a story this one would make!
I could just see the front page, bold headline, with my name under it: "A-Team Defeats Local Thugs; Continues On To Give Military The Slip!"
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