Fandom - The A-Team
Parings - none
Rating - R
Warnings - Violence, blood, guts and gore. If you are Catholic you probably don't want to read this.
Disclaimer - I do not own the characters of the A-Team. All OC's are mine.
Authors Note - Okay. So this, to me, is pretty risky to write. But, that's the way it's gotta be. Yes, there are murder's of Clergy in the Catholic Church. I'm not saying that these character's are bad. You know, a few bad apples corrupts the whole basket - at least that's the way society see's it. So. Just to clear things up - the Catholic Clergy in this story are all good people just living their lives and doing the work of God. Savvy?
Chapter 1 - Alternate Living Conditions
Sister Agatha smiled at the young man she'd had the pleasure to know all his life. She had practically raised him - and if she had been able, she'd have loved to call Templeton her son. Well, he was in spirit. He gave her a huge grin. Outside the football team had just gotten done with practice.
"We'll beat Ulysses High yet, Sister," he said. They stood in the foyer of the East entrance of the Angel's Mercy Catholic School in a seedy part of LA's ghetto neighborhood. It was the only school for miles and all the children were bussed there and back home. The football team wouldn't even exist if it weren't for BA and Face volunteering their down time. It really helped the school out to have a winning team.
"Good, another win will help us with funding. Which we really need for the library," Sister Agatha smiled.
Yet, underneath what otherwise would have been simple and happy conversation was underlying sadness and worry. Their Principle, Father Roy Herald had been found murdered in his apartment the morning before today's football practice. He was at every one and he loved chatting with Face. Despite the fact that Face was a wanted fugitive and any number of people could go to jail for not reporting him to the authorities; the people who had raised him, loved him as much as they could, weren't going to fault him for the Hanoi Incident. Forgiveness of the soul was far more important. Especially after Face had confessed to any number of things and had gained said forgiveness.
"Sister," Face sighed. He approached her and they started to walk down the deserted hallway. "I'm not allowed to take on a case on my own," he said quietly, "Hannibal....well, what we do is a team thing,"
"I know," Sister Agatha nodded, "and I am sorry for asking you to do this for us, but...Father Herald isn't the first murder in recent weeks. You know that," she stated with and undercurrent of blue lighting as she gave him a sideways glance.
He did know. Father Herald was the fifth victim of what looked to be a crime of opportunity. The window to the fire escape, according to the news paper, had been jimmied open. The Father found in a pool of blood in his living room and anything valuable stolen. Including his rosary.
"I know," Face sighed. He thought about it. He felt like a heel and he always hated that feeling. Well, Catholic's had guilt copyrighted. "Okay, I'll do it. But keep it quiet. I know Hannibal call's here sometimes. Please, let me tell him when all of this is over." He took her hand in both of his, he was begging her and they both knew it.
Sister Agatha nodded; "I won't tell him a thing, but if he ask's I won't lie. I'll tell him he needs to talk to you,"
"Loop holes are a wonderful thing, no?" Face waggled his eye brows.
He got home around five. The small apartment wasn't the sort he normally conned for himself. Outside a group of kids were playing street baseball. He heard a window break and someone yelling profanities as the kids dispersed so that none of them got caught for the broken window. He hung up his coat and wished for a high rise on the better part of town, but, with Decker getting closer and closer to the Team - it was a bad idea to call any sort of attention to himself.
Not to mention Decker would be looking at all the high end hotel's and apartment buildings, the richest mansions...just for him. Because Decker - Hannibal reckoned - would love to catch just one to lure out the other two. Therefore, Face had found something akin to his position at the school. He had been registered as Father Templeton Potter II. There had been one working at the school ages ago. and Templeton looked so much like him. It made sense for the Son to go into the Father's line of work.
So far. No one had asked question and the MP's hadn't come sniffing around. And while the apartment was dingy, old, and smelled like stale whiskey - that he couldn't get any sort of cleaning product to cover correctly - it was better than where he'd been over the past few months. Being Homeless just to get the MP's off their backs had been hard. Hannibal and BA seemed to take it well, but it was nightmare for Face. It hadn't been a cover for a job either, which he tried to make himself believe.
It was weird how something like being forced to live like that opened his eyes to the simple things in life. He did prefer beautiful surounds as compared to the dingy, however, at least it was a roof, at least there was heating, a bed a shower with hot water. and food in the fridge. Yes. Things had gotten better and the next step would come soon as the MP's fucked off.
He turned on the small black and white television before meandering to the kitchen. He pulled out a Hi-Bright strawberry soda. He twisted off the lid and took a few swigs. He brought out the making's of a simple cheese sandwich. Two slices of whole wheat bread, the good mustard from the grocer down the street and a yellow cheese block. The news played in the back ground. As if the Angel's Mercy hadn't seen enough of their members die in recent weeks, another had just been discovered.
Face sighed as he put his sandwich together. Sister Helen. She was the librarian. She was younger than most Sisters in her early twenties. But she took her work seriously and she was such a delight to talk too. Simply because the Sister's weren't women to sweet talk. They had vowed off any sort of sex life which meant that there was no way they'd jump into his bed. So, meaningless sex was nonexistent.
He reminded himself that meaningless sex would be putting him at risk. Hannibal loved to shove it in his face that if he choose the wrong woman he could easily get aid's or something worse, the firing squad. He wondered over to the couch. He'd just have to help himself - that was all right, for now, at least.
A picture of Sister Helen flashed on the screen. She was covered in blood, her black skirt had been hiked up to her waist. The killer - for the police was sure it'd only been one - had done it to shock people because she was a Catholic Nun. Modesty was important to them. She hadn't been raped though, so it wasn't considered a sexual crime. That'd didn't mean that the killer wouldn't escalate in the future.
Face remembered his criminal classes at college. He'd wanted to be a lab technician and grab important evidence to put criminal's in jail. He'd taken a criminal psych class on the side because it had been interesting. The cases - he surmised - were done by the same person, on his own. A Serial Killer wasn't something knew. Only the real stupid ones got caught. And the FBI surmised that there were more than a dozen operating in a single city at any one time.
He sat down on the couch and thought about that old Professor that'd taught him thirteen years ago. Professor James Moriarty. And yes, he always joked he was the real mad man written about in the Sherlock Holmes stories. Face put his sandwich plate and soda on the side table as he picked up the phone. He dialed a series of numbers...
"Hi," he grinned as if he were talking to a real person, "I'm calling about a Professor that worked at your school a while ago, I'm calling for Professor Moriarty..." he waited a few seconds as the lady replied, "Oh, he's no longer there...? well, I'm his nephew you see and our Grandmother has just died, I wonder if you'd give me his last known number and a dress, you see, he was her favorite and he's in the Will..." he tapped his foot as the con went in his direction. He picked up a pen and jockey the information down on a pad of paper he kept handy.
James puffed on his cigar as he sat in his living room reading the news paper. His television was proclaiming the deaths of the Catholic's that'd been ever popular these days. They were compelling cases. All done differently, but, there was that single clue that connected each case to the next. Clergy. Yes, someone was killing off the Clergy of a school in the Ghetto's of LA. Interesting. But, not enough to get involved.
The doorbell rang. He looked up briefly but did not rise as a maid ran to get the door. There were voices and a name... "Templeton Peck...." - that name wasn't one that someone forgot easily. The young man appeared next. He had aged ten years or so, but was still as precocious, pernicious, and amazing as James had remembered. It shone in those light blue eyes and wide grin.
"Ah, Templeton!" James rose, he laid the paper down on the side table before clamping Templeton into a huge embrace. "I'm glad you are well, my friend, I heard about the Military thing,"
"Oh yeah," Templeton gripped the older man back. "I'm hear because...well, I need your help," he admitted straight out. James smiled and directed Templeton to a chair.
"It is about the Clergy," James replied.
"Yes, I know it seem's like accident's or something else, but, I'm sure it's a serial killer," Templeton rushed to explain.
"I think so too," James nodded. "But, it's not simply because they are Sister's and Father's of the school you grew up in, you aren't the connection between the killer and these people,"
"I forgot I told you all that," Templeton shook his head.
"You have learned to keep more things to yourself in these past few years," James grinned.
"I've learnt a few hard lessons," Templeton shrugged.
"Well,I wasn't going to get involved...but..."
"Oh, I'd appreciate it if...well...you wouldn't tell the authorities about me, please? I'm a wanted fugitive," Templeton muttered.
"Ah, I remember hearing about that in the news. Actually it was quite recently too. You saved a milk farm from going out of business," James grinned.
"Yeah, we take on a lot of missions for people who are being pushed around by idiots who think they are owed things that belong to other people," Templeton rolled his eyes.
"That is as good as working in a soup kitchen," James smiled, "I'll keep your presence quiet,"
"Thank you," Templeton sat forwards, "Okay, so...what do we know so far...?"