This is 8 pages in my word doc. I was gonna end it earlier but....Hannibal happened.
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Fandom – The A-Team
Disclaimer – I do not own the A-Team characters. I do not make any money off this piece of fiction; this is strictly for my amusement.
Pairing – H-BAMF
Rating – R/NC17
Summary – AU – First Lieutenant Templeton Peck finds himself in a pickle. He’s the only officer in the POW camp, nicknamed by the American’s Dogpatch – which is run by the most famous Traitor
Historical Notes- Dogpatch is a real POW camp that is based near the China-Vietnamese boarder. It’s a good place because at the time the people who ran the camp built it there because they knew that American policy wasn’t going to conduct any operations in that area. So, it fits my AU story line quite perfectly.
ANOTHER NOTE – Vietnamese take their names seriously. Tuan = Bright and Tu’ = Star. So Bright Star.
Chapter 4 – Waterloos’ Almanac
The night was bright, the moon shown high in the sky overlooking the dense forest. Stars twinkled around the moon and Templeton could easily see the Northern Star fixed in the sky. He looked down at his map. If his calculations were correct he surmised that they were no more than fifty clicks away from
“So, you’re sure the A-Team isn’t hanging around, correct Lieutenant?” Hendrickson asked.
“I circled the camp five times,” Templeton tried to keep annoyance out of his tone; it wouldn’t do to piss the Captain off right now. They had a job to do, whatever grievances they had – they needed to forget them right now.
“I didn’t see hide or hair of them, not even a flicker of gold,” Templeton folded up his map.
“Then we’ll strike tonight,” Hendrickson said. He hiccupped. Nothing in the jungle around them moved. Templeton hoped that there wasn’t a random gorilla scout on their heels – that’s mess everything up. The waft of alcohol he smelt when in direct fire of Hendrickson’s lousy breath also told Templeton that they possibly wouldn’t get out of this alive.
It isn’t water in that canteen – it’s vodka! He thought to himself as he lent back into the brush. Not making a sound. He’d been trained well, out of all the men here, he was the only one who could walk through this jungle silently. None of the other men had SF training. It’d put some of his teachers back at base to shame if they’d known.
Templeton wanted to ask Hendrickson if he were crazy. But held back, it wasn’t his place to question, only to do as he was told. Maybe if he ever got a higher rank than Hendrickson he’d see what the idiot was thinking at this moment in time. Obviously, not much.
“Wake the men and I’ll go over the plan one more time before he head out,” Hendrickson ordered. Templeton nodded and slowly made his way down the line of twenty men. They mustered, and thankfully knew better than to make a sound as they started their slow march after Hendrickson gave more orders. At he end would be blood shed. Templeton knew he wasn’t the only one praying for a safe return to Delta Zero.
The night wore on and they flanked
They were out manned and out gunned – if Tuan Tu’ and his men made a stand. They’d win.
“All right,” Hendrickson took a small breath and then he stood up and started shooting.
It went to hell from there.
“Wake up, Templeton!” he was shaken hard and came awake in a panicked daze. He knocked his head against the top of the cage with a loud “shit!”
“So, sleep well?” he asked.
Templeton clinked, still holding his head. A headache was the least of his worries unless it became a migraine. The bruise hurt where he’d been punched by Hendrickson the day before and he wanted a bath. A nice, hot, long soak in the tub would put him to rights. Only, he’d have to wait ages for that dream to come true in any sense of the word.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you, sir,” he hadn’t slept well at all.
“Come on, up you get,”
Templeton wondered just how much
“ah, note this, Lieutenant…”
Templeton nodded; “Yes sir,”
He was pushed inside, gently, and then the gate snapped shut and was locked behind him. Next to the fence was a tray of food. It was cold rice in the form of porridge, even the coffee was cold. They weren’t in good favor this morning.
Templeton picked up one bowl and cup and brought it over to Hendrickson who was fettered to the fence by chains. Templeton estimated a good ten seconds to pick them – his own, five if he had the right tools. His picks were inaccessible just because Hannibal and his men never missed a detail.
“Here,” he handed the cup of cold coffee and the porridge to Hendrickson who looked like he was in need of the hospital. He looked hazily at Templeton before looking down at the food. At least he ate, Templeton sighed. He went back for his own and sat out of arms length of Hendrickson. The food gave him enough energy to start a hushed conversation.
“I’m getting out of here,” he said.
“What?” Templeton glance around, no one in sight but that didn’t mean anything, “how are you going to do that with a busted arm?” he asked out of the side of his mouth. He took a bite of porridge. It tasted better than the stuff he used to get from St. Almanac’s Orphanage in
“It’s not all that bad here,” he heard himself saying. He sighed as Hendrickson glared at him.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Hendrickson demanded.
“Nothing, nothing…” Templeton gulped some coffee, “only that compared to some of the other POW camps we’ve heard about, so far, it’s been all right here. I mean, we could have been in worst places – and our men…”
He didn’t get a chance to finish, Hendrickson threw his tin cup at Templeton, who daftly dodged it. “Our men are dead! And it’s all your fault!”
“My fault?” Templeton was about to let him have it when the gate screeched open behind them.
“That is the last I am going to have from you,” BA hissed. He pulled Templeton up and without another word he dragged him out of the pen. Murdock entered after and approached Hendrickson. Templeton didn’t get a chance to even figure what Murdock was going to do as BA took the bowl from him and continued to drag him to an opposite corner of the compound.
The box stood empty and Templeton knew that today it was his turn to be its resident. He didn’t fight BA as he was shoved inside. Then the door was bolted and he was shut in darkness. The box wasn’t big enough for him stand up in. If he curled himself small enough he could lay down. The earth was hard except for a few patches in the ground where it was soft enough not to hurt.
He wondered what he was being punished for - What was the point of putting him in here without letting him know what for anyway?
A sudden bang got his attention and he jumped out of his skin; “Templeton, you’ve been a bad boy,” he heard
“How so?” he asked. His voice echoed but he didn’t care.
“You haven’t been eating, so you’re being punished,”
“Erm…okay…sorry…” it was hesitant because wasn’t that just a bogus lie. Maybe
Templeton side, “where does he get off calling me that anyway?” he asked the dark. It didn’t reply, then again, he didn’t think it would.
Look on the bright side, Templeton Peck! His inner voice chimmed, sounding too much like Hannibal for the good of his Sanity, at least you get to catch up on all that lost sleep over the last few weeks since Hendrickson’s failed attack on Waterloo!
And by golly, the voice was right. Templeton groaned as he moved around to get comfortable. Hendrickson hadn’t mentioned how hot the box could be. Templeton had only heard horror stories from other men who’d been POW’s for a time – from what he heard, the temperature could climb and this was one punishment you wanted to avoid at all costs.
He closed his eyes, and tried to not think about it too much.
The St. Almanac’s School for Boys was a converted warehouse in down town
The boys, all dressed in kaki pants and grey button down shirts, spent hours every day making garments and not seeing a dime for their efforts. Rusty would look on from his office, which was made of glass so he had a clear view of the children – and his goons who traversed the floors – and if he saw anyone not being fast enough, he’d whip the child with his belt in front of everyone.
It was anyone’s guess to who’d get the belt today. They didn’t bet on the chances because they didn’t understand betting pools. Templeton Peck, who’d spent time on the streets, did everything he could to get out of the school. However, as on every other day – Templeton was dragged to the sweat shop to see “Father” Almanac and his “Holy” Belt from God.
And like every other day, he was beat till he was almost senseless with it. He tried not to cry. He wasn’t ashamed of it either. He refused to feel that, ever, again. Not after what his Father had done to him – not after his parents got that divorce, not after she’d left him on the steps of this school with the promise to return.
The beatings didn’t do to him what it did to the other boys who were made to watch. Nope, the beatings just made Templeton promise himself that one day he would escape and he would make a name for himself. He wasn’t going to give up.
Don’t give up…
The last thing Sister Lily told him when he’d informed her that he had signed up to join the Army, Special Forces was a detail she didn’t know about and possibly never would.
“I won’t give up…” Templeton whispered to himself.
Time had flown out the window and he was surprised that it’d been a whole day as he was let out of the box.
“Have you learnt your lesson?” it was Murdock, however, who asked him the question and Templeton nodded.
“Yeah, I’ve learnt it,”
Inside, he smiled.
He wouldn’t give up. Not on himself, and not on escape.
“You need a bath,”
“I want a bath,” Templeton quipped. He was slightly done with this man and his lackey’s. Though, to be fair, at least Murdock liked him.
In the middle of the floor was a large bath tub full of water. There was a bar of soap, a bottle without a label and towels along with wash rags sitting on a small table near by.
Templeton gave Hannibal, Murdock and BA a suspicious look while asking; “Okay, what is this going to cost me?” he began to back away.
“Everything,” he said, “I want everything, your body, mind and soul,”
“Don’t forget about us, Colonel!” Murdock chirped, looking a bit put out.
“There he goes,”
He was going for the wall. This was the stupidest thing he’d ever done. Templeton decided, and if he lived through it – he promised himself a very good retirement plan. No way in hell was he going to be a Vietnam Veteran living on the streets after this – than Dogpatch would seem far too good, even after
He ignored Hendrickson’s cries for help as he made a jump. He was almost to the top when there was a yell and someone grabbed his legs. Then he was pulled down from the fence. He landed hard on the ground.