"Just Another Day At The Office"

"Just Another Day At The Office"

by Ross7

B.A. pulled his van off of the main road and parked in a secluded little clearing, less than a quarter of a mile from the mark's home. He and his teammates exited the vehicle and began arming themselves with an assortment of weapons and grenades.

The foursome stood there in the sunlit clearing, cramming spare cartridges into their coat pockets, their eyes darting about, ever vigilant. The atmosphere was one of eager anticipation, seasoned with a healthy dash of dread.

No one spoke. There was no need for words. Each member of the Team could tell, at a glance, what the others were thinking. This uncanny mind-reading ability allowed them to anticipate one another's every move. As a result, the four-man team functioned as if it were a single person—an individual with a personality that just happened to be split four ways…sometimes more, depending on what shape Murdock's psyche was in.

Speaking of Murdock, he slung the strap of his assault rifle over his shoulder and watched while his team— The A-Team—prepared to take on, and tackle, yet another dastardly foe. The scene's familiarity caused the Captain to smile. 'Business as usual,' he thought.

Business was the same, all right. Only, the Team had changed. The bonds of trust and friendship, that had been forged a decade back, where now ten times stronger. They knew, and understood, each other so much better, now. Correspondingly, their already 'crack' Commando team had become that much better, as well. So, it was only 'same old, same old' on the surface.

Murdock considered that for a moment and then assumed the demeanor of the Dalai Lama. "When change occurs from within, it is often difficult to discern."

Hannibal set his .60 caliber machine gun, and a backpack full of extra ammo belts, down on the floor of the van. "That's…deep, Murdock," he told the man who had been waxing philosophical all morning. Then, to the entire team, he said, "I'm gonna go check out the lay of the land. If I'm not back in five minutes, send out the Cavalry." With that, he slipped a handgun from the holster on his hip and started heading off, in the direction of the bad guys' abode.

The 'cavalrymen' watched the Colonel vanish into one of the thick groves of beech trees, which bordered their little clearing.

To kill time, whilst their C.O. was off scouting about, Face turned to his 'deep' friend and struck up a conversation. "Okay. I'll bite. What's changed…that we haven't noticed?"

"Everything," Murdock replied, "and yet…nothing."

Face mulled the Captain's cryptic remark over for a moment or two. "That's…deep, all right." It was certainly waaaay over his head.

"There ain' nothin' deep about it!" B.A. determined, sounding every bit as disgusted as he looked. "Thas' jes' a bunch a' jibber-jabber! Jes' a lot a' crazy talk from a crazy fool!" he concluded and glared in the Crazy Fool's direction.

Dalai Murdock stood his ground. "It is quite a quandary. However, it is written…somewhere…that true enlightenment will come…to those who 'contemplate'…the words...of a fool."

B.A. had been tolerating Murdock's nonsensical mutterings all morning. But, he'd had, and heard, enough. His scowl deepened and his dark eyes narrowed, even further, into menacing slits. "True pain will come ta those who 'speak' the words of a fool! Contemplate 'that', sucker!"

The Captain thought the Sergeant's threat over and then took immediate steps to increase the distance between them.

A thought-filled silence ensued.

Face had already been giving Murdock's curious comments further consideration. 'Everything changes.' His circumstances certainly had, especially since leaving Nam. He was still driving around with the top down. Only now, his ride was a shiny, new Vette, instead of a dusty old army jeep. Gone were the faded fatigues. Nowadays, he decked himself out in designer clothes. Why, he even had his own tailor. His hooch was a posh penthouse and, instead of gagging down K-Rations, he frequently found himself dining at some of the fanciest eateries in L.A.. No doubt about it, things were definitely…different.

'Nothing changes.' Face gazed down at the rifle strap in his hand. He was still toting weapons around. He was still scamming his way through life. He was still searching for a place to put down permanent roots. And, amazingly, he still had three of the finest friends a guy could ever hope to find. Their Team had developed its own special chemistry over the years. He could feel that chemistry at work, whenever the four of them got together. It was working right then, in fact—more powerfully than ever... The Lieutenant turned to the now quiet Captain and gave him an 'enlightened' stare.

Much to his dismay, B.A. also found himself 'contemplating' the crazy Captain's 'quandary'. 'Murdock jes' might be on ta somethin'. After all, L.A. is jes' a big, concrete jungle. Only dif'ernce is, now, we're goin' up agains' crooked bus'nessmen an' gangsters, instead a' Viet Cong guerillas.' But, they were still battling tyranny…still staying in step with their Special Forces' credo 'To Free the Oppressed'. Most importantly, the four of them were still the best of friends. No. Now, they were the BEST of the best of friends. The Sergeant aimed an 'enlightened' gaze in the Crazy Man's direction. As much as he hated to admit it, Murdock was on to something.

Murdock saw the looks his companions were giving him and realized they must have finally caught on. To be certain they were all aboard the same train of thought, the Captain came right out and said, "We're not the same team we were back in Nam."

Face flashed their Zen friend a warm smile. "Hey, we're not getting older, we're getting better. Right, B.A.?"

B.A. both grinned and agreed. "Right!"

The Colonel returned from his recon' right about then. Judging by what he'd just overheard, the topic of conversation was Team dynamics. The discussion had apparently ended on a positive note, because the guys were all smiling…at each other. He basked in the group's warm, fuzzy glow for a moment or two and then turned to his Lieutenant. "What did I miss?"

"Everything," Face parroted, his smile never fading, "and yet…nothing."

Hannibal saw the guys exchanging amused glances, once again. He suspected there was a great deal of truth to the statement. It just hadn't struck him as being particularly funny. It was obviously an 'inside joke', and now was not the time to have it explained to him. There was work to be done. He stepped up to their van's open side door and began donning the backpack he'd recently dropped there—the one filled with his Baby's 'formula'.

"So-o…" Murdock strolled up to their C.O. and stood at his side. "What did you find out, Colonel?"

"I didn't detect any video surveillance equipment, and the perimeter is no longer guarded." Hannibal shifted the pack and adjusted its straps, to distribute its content's considerable weight more evenly upon his shoulders. The sack was heavy out of necessity. His M-60 devoured a whopping 550 rounds per minute! Yes, Baby had a voracious appetite for ammo. Speaking of which, Hannibal picked the twenty-five pound weapon up and then cradled it, comfortably, in his crossed arms—hence, the name.

There! The A-Team was now loaded for bear and ready to rumble!

But first, the Colonel felt it was his…duty...to…inspire...the troops. He turned to his teammates and established direct eye contact with each of them. "Things certainly have changed since Nam. I remember how proud I was, back then, to lead you guys into battle. It was both an honor…and a privilege…to be your C.O.." The officer finished his little pep talk and began taking his leave. As soon as his back was turned, he allowed the smile he'd been suppressing to escape. Hey, they didn't have a corner on the 'inside joke' market.

Hannibal's associates had found his repeated usage of the 'past' tense more alarming than inspiring. The trio exchanged anxious glances, and then quickly caught up to their C.O..

The entire Team then continued to head towards the trees, traveling four abreast.

Face finally got up the nerve to pose the question. "What about now, Colonel?"

Hannibal's smile put in a second appearance. "No-ow, I walk beside you."

The group reached the edge of the clearing and came to a halt.

The Colonel made direct eye contact with each of his teammates again. "No-ow, though I never would have believed it to be possible, I'm even prouder."

The trio exchanged relieved glances, this time. They flashed Hannibal back his smile and then followed him into the woods…single file.

"Now-a-days," the Colonel continued, "the Team functions more like a corporation than a military unit. We're all stockholders with equal shares. However, being the 'planner' means that I must, out of necessity, have a controlling interest in the company. I would just like to say, that it is both an honor and a privilege to be The A-Team Corporation's C.E.O.."

His business associates rolled their eyes.

The foursome soon found themselves crouched down behind some low shrubs on the outskirts of the creep's compound.

The A-Team's Board of Directors held a brief meeting so its C.E.O. could hand out assignments. "Lieutenant, you take the left flank. Captain, you have the right. Sergeant, you…and me…and Baby makes three…are gonna go bang, rather loudly, on Mister' Braniff's front door."

Seeing the maniacal gleam in their C.E.O.'s eyes and the confident, almost cocky, grin on their C.E.O.'s face, the company's shareholders glanced at each other again and groaned inwardly.

It was just another day at the office.