In Over Our Heads

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"Piece of cake.... ha.." Face begrudgingly spat under his breath. As long as he has been with Hannibal, BA, and Murdock the only thing that has been a piece of cake is remembering that they are all wanted dead or alive by the military police and rabid money seeking vigilantes. Worse still, they are wanted for crimes they hadn't even committed. 

"Cheer up Face," Hannibal called, looking over at the rather grumpy and young  blonde-haired man. He knew that his lieutenant was growing weary of their constant running, just as they all were. Decker had been relentless in chasing them across the country. He was good. But the A-team happened to be better. 

Face gutturally groans, his sea-glass shaded eyes rolling up into his head with great annoyance. He slung the gun over his shoulder with a dutiful swing and a barely audible complaint passing over his lips. Inwardly he thought to himself, someone ought to criminalize the art of coming up with bad ideas, like this one that Hannibal was brewing. While the years they've been on the run hadn't killed them yet, he wasn't sure this one would make retirement any more of an option. 

Murdock stared blankly at Face, but his thoughts were much the same. Well if you neglect to consider the chaos that crowded each of his thoughts. A million unseen imaginings would frequent his mind, it was something of a coping mechanism adopted by the pilot during his horrific tours in Vietnam. 

B.A. gave a disapproving scowl in their fearless leader's direction. He didn't like it either and he made no secret of the disapproval. Hannibal had to be on the Jazz again. "Cake? Right? Hannibal we know you are on the Jazz again, man. Decker is sending snipers to pick up our trail." The larger than life African-American growled. Clearly he was not amused even by the entertaining of the commander's ideas. Sure, for the plot of an action movie going up against snipers might be fun. In real life--- not so much.

A chuckle escapes around the edges of a lit cigar leaning from the grey-hair Colonel's mouth. His teeth flash in the faintest of cunning fox-like grins.  "It certainly makes things more exciting! Doesn't it? Having military grade snipers on our trail. It really gets the blood pumping in the morning." There is an exuberance in his tone that is mirrored in the sparkling of his deep azure eyes. The sound of adrenaline thundering through his heart and pulsing  back up through his ears happens to be the musical score to which, he enjoys living his life. 

His rhetorical inquiry is met with a series of groans. Even Howling Mad Murdock isn't crazy enough to believe that the odds were in their favor. But like most teams, they would fight even to the death for one another. There was a level of dedication between each of them that made them more like a cohesive family than a gang of rag-tag soldiers thrown together by the circumstances of war. 

"I can't help but feel like this time, we're going to be in over our heads," Face grumbles softly. In times like this he wishes he could be anywhere but in his own shoes. Maybe lounging in one of those beach chairs on some island somewhere sipping an alcoholic beverage with a little straw and being fawned over by beautiful women. A sentiment which was probably shared by the rest of the team, even if it wasn't outwardly vocalized. 

But would they be able to pull one of their fast escapes? Or would the infamous A-team finally meet their match? 


((to probably be further edited))

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