Mission #40: Viva Las Suckas
Not a Sue in sight and the Team is acting silly. What could it be? Nothing that will have a long life ahead of it.
A/N: Protectors of the Plot Continuum was founded by Jay and Acacia. Excerpts in italics were taken from Viva Las Suckas by element115.
-oOo-
"Let's go for pizza," Tasmin said.
Allison eyed her partner. "You want to share a meal, with me? Why are you opening a portal?"
"A-Team is helping out some pizza makers. And we're helping them out."
"That probably means that the last thing we'll eat is pizza." Allison slumped her shoulders and followed her partner through the portal.
-oOo-
The agents arrived in the fic just as BA pulled the van into the parking lot of the restaurant. Hannibal pointed at the "closed" sign. BA found it odd the restaurant would be closed on the busiest night of the week.
"Somethin' ain't right, man," B.A. said, stopping the van.
"Charge one, driving in circles on the parking lot."
Allison rolled her eyes, pulled a pencil from behind her ear and made a note in the pad she had managed to grab before going into the fic. "Hannibal could have just read the sign from a moving ve-"
A small time rift knocked Allison off her feet and placed the Team at the door of the restaurant.
"How come you didn't fall?" she growled at her partner.
"I pay attention," Tasmin replied. "Get up. We need to get into that restaurant too." She pulled the remote activator from her bag.
-oOo-
"We could have gone by portal before that time rift happened," Allison said.
The agents were in the restaurant behind some conveniently placed plants. The restaurant was empty save for the owner, Tony, who was sweeping the floor.
"Doesn't he have a Hoover?"
"He's Italian, not English."
"Doesn't mean he doesn't know about household appliances. Besides, Hoover was a US industrialist."
"Shh."
Tony let the Team in.
"What's goin' on Sam?" said B.A.
"Calling the character by the wrong name. Sam's the brother."
"Technically, he's not calling him by his name, is he? There should have been a comma after 'on' for him to call Tony Sam. Now, he's just asking him what's happening on Sam. Or what kind of ingredients go on Sam."
Tasmin hit Allison in the back of her head.
Tony explained that his brother was kidnapped by Tommy Armone to force him to sell his restaurant. Face, of course, knew this thug, and his connections.
"Some times I wonder whether Face could have gotten his pardon by becoming state's witness against the mob."
Hannibal suggested he should exterminate the rat. He thought Armone would want the pizza restaurant for a specific purpose.
If we can figure out what it is, maybe we can get your brother back, and turn the tables on these low-lifes.
"Shouldn't that be low lives?"
"I don't think low life has a plural. Seen as its definition is people -- rather than person -- who exists by criminal activities."
Tony accepted the Team's offer of help and said they could ask him any price, if they returned his brother.
"Salud, Tony" Hannibal said. "You've just hired the A-Team."
"I think Hannibal is not very good with his words today."
-oOo-
The next morning, BA helped a couple of kids set up a lemonade stand. Then he hid underneath the table.
The agents were leaning against a nearby lamppost with a good view of the proceedings.
"Do kids in the city set up lemonade stands? I thought that was more of a small town kind of thing. For areas where they have a surplus of lemons, and thirsty people."
"Never mind that. BA is using kids to act as bait for the bad guys."
Allison snapped her fingers. "That explains that pig I saw flying by earlier."
No sooner was BA out of sight than a black Cadillac pulled up and two men in suits got out. One of them asked the kids if they had a permit, and when the kids answered negatively, told them to beat it. That's when BA jumped up.
The Underling ran at B.A. with a baseball bat.
"He slid that one out of his sleeve, right? I already thought he was walking with a bit of a stiff arm."
The thug with the bat was quickly dumped in the trash. Then the other one pulled a gun, but before he could use it, the van came to a screeching stop behind him and Hannibal jumped out, training a machine gun on the man.
While Face searched this thug for weapons and other items of interest, Hannibal questioned him on who wanted the property.
"Didn't Tony already tell him that? Tommy Armone. It's not just his words he's got trouble with, his short-term memory is also starting to get holes in it. Do you suppose-"
"No."
"You didn't even let me finish."
"That's because whatever you are supposing isn't going to happen in this fic."
"You can't know that. Perhaps I was going to suggest something terribly mundane and absolutely badfic fitting."
"Go on then."
"Suppose Hannibal develops Alzheimer's?"
Tasmin sucked in air and counted till three. "I suppose every badfic incarnation of Hannibal has Alzheimer's disease. It's never becomes a plot point though."
Meanwhile, Face had lifted a matchbook from one of the man's pockets.
"'Imperial Resort'," Hannibal said, reading the logo on it. "That's that giant new casino hotel in Las Vegas. Guys, I think we could use a vacation."
"So could I," Allison said. "You know, there is something to be said for a smoking ban in the workplace. There would be no purpose for matchbooks with company logos, and your employees wouldn't attract the wrong kind of visitors."
"Who says he works for that casino? Perhaps he's a gambling man himself. Hannibal's jumping to illogical conclusions here."
"I thought we agreed that Hannibal was senile in this fic?"
Despite having an idea of where to go, the Team decided to return Murdock to the VA so they could break him out again the next morning.
Tasmin banged her head against the lamppost.
The next morning, however, MPs were in hot pursuit of the Team (before they could break out Murdock) and BA was complaining that he wasn't going to fly.
"He doesn't have a pilot and it's only a four-hour drive to Las Vegas. What makes him think they are going to fly?" Tasmin punctuated the question by banging her head against the lamppost.
Allison gave her partner a worried look. "Would you like to have a pillow?"
"A pillow kinda defeats the purpose." Tasmin rolled her cheek against the cool metal.
"Oh, I don't know. It could be useful to smother the Sue."
"I don't even know who the Sue is in this fic." Tasmin thumped her head against the lamppost in short repetitive strokes.
"I think we can have our pick of Sues. Hannibal and BA are the most likely candidates now. And could you stop doing that thing with your head? I think I can hear bone cracking."
"Okay, I'll stop now."
Hannibal told BA to take the next exit, which led straight to an airport complex. At the airport Hannibal grabbed the wheel of the van and caused a crash into a concrete road barrier.
"BA would have tried to countersteer that."
"BA would have hit the brakes."
"I think we have our Sue."
The MPs approached slowly, guns drawn, but all they could see was the puffy white of the inflated airbags.
Tasmin reintroduced her head to the lamppost.
"What's wrong now? That looked like a perfectly acceptable action. The first in this fic."
"BA drives a 1983 GMC G-series van. Airbags weren't standard in that model until 1994, and I doubt they even were part of the optional package in 1983. Airbags first became common in the mid-80s. GM offered them optional on some of their full-size models from 1974 onwards, but that's cars, not vans. The number of times we've seen the van land after it jumped a ramp, we should have seen those airbags deploy ages ago."
Allison nodded. "Using technology that isn't era appropriate." She made the note.
Captain Crane used a sewing pin to deflate an airbag, only to find out that the van was empty. The Team had managed to get out before the MPs saw them, and hitched a ride from a luggage tram. They walked into the terminal where, assisted by slapstick intervention, Hannibal and Face managed to knock BA out. They carted him off to a private jet and were greeted there by Murdock -- who had apparently broken himself out of the VA.
"I'll understand if you want to keep banging your head. Actually, I'm wondering if that lamppost is big enough for the both of us."
Tasmin made a hand gesture that said there was.
Allison hit her head against the light fixture. She stepped back reeling. "Never doing that again." She flopped onto the ground. "It helps, though," she said. "This fic is suddenly starting to make sense."
Allison half-focused on the Words. "Oh, we have to go to the casino." She scrambled up. "Hannibal is dressing up as a mariachi singer in an attempt to stay inconspicuous."
Tasmin put the lamppost to some more good use before she stepped through the portal.
-oOo-
Not only was Hannibal dressed as a mariachi singer, BA had donned the guise of an Elvis impersonator.
"I don't know whether to laugh or cry," Tasmin said. "BA never wears a disguise. Never. He carries a shovel at best."
BA's disguise, however, meant that he could follow Tommy Armone around, and find out where he was going. Then BA and Murdock went to the suite below and drilled a hole in the ceiling and through the floor big enough for Murdock to fit through. Thus able to eavesdrop he learned that Armone tried to buy up all the property in Tony's block so his boss could set up an arcade there under the name HappyFunLand.
"Wasn't that the name of the amusement park in That 70s show?"
"I think that was just called Funland."
The only businesses left are a gold jewelry store, a dairy distributor, and some youth center.
"I doubt a youth centre could afford the same property values as a jewellery story," Tasmin said.
"Jewellery stores are usually located in the high-street."
"Or near other stores that sell upscale consumer goods."
BA was also upset a youth centre was part of the plans, but for different reasons. He jumped up in anger and inadvertently pushed Murdock through the hole in the ceiling, right in site of the two men they were eavesdropping on. Tommy Armone grabbed a violin case, grabbed his gun from it and started firing at will.
"Why don't casinos have lampposts?" Tasmin looked around.
"This is badfic. If you want one, you can make one appear. Look, there's one over there now." Allison pointed at the green mock-18th century lamppost.
BA and Murdock left the building through a garbage chute. They didn't get very far, and were soon, along with Hannibal and Face, captured by the thugs. They were locked into a storage room where they met Sam. Sam told them he had enough evidence to put these guys away.
These guys have been toting me around for months, and I've managed to gather evidence every chance I can get. I've got photocopies and taped phone calls of everything from bribing zoning boards to shifting accounts around to crooked contractors. It's all in a P.O. Box nobody knows about, but I've got to get out of here.
"That's mighty clever for a restaurant owner," Allison said.
"And mighty stupid of these thugs. And why didn't he go to the police with his evidence?"
"Probably because he obtained most of his evidence through illegal methods. Taping other people's phone conversations without a warrant, breaking into offices to make photocopies of their files. Any lawyer worth half his fee would make mince meat out of this guy."
The guys weren't locked in the storage room long: BA found a tank of propane which he opened a bit to check whether it still contained gas. They devised a plan to break out and Hannibal lit a cigar to celebrate. This ignited the propane and caused an explosion. Murdock sprayed everything with foam from a fire extinguisher and the thugs, who came to check on the racket, slipped on the foam and all fell. The Team and Sam snuck out.
"I've had enough of this headache. We'll put a stop to this right now." Tasmin grabbed the remote activator and opened a portal.
-oOo-
The Team managed to escape the hotel building, but were still on the grounds of the resort. As a matter of fact, they found themselves on a golf course. Hannibal jumped behind the wheel of a golf cart. BA pushed him aside and the rest of the group jumped on the cart as well. The thugs were soon in pursuit. Without any weapons to speak of, the only way out the Team saw was to try and jump a pond with the cart.
They failed.
When the five dripping wet men crawled out of the pond on the other side the two PPC agents stood waiting for them.
"Don't you know that suit is dry clean only?" Allison nodded to BA's Elvis costume. He growled in reply.
"Gentlemen, we are Protectors of Plot Continuum. We have to inform you that you are infected by a troll."
"Troll?" three men and Allison asked.
"Yes, troll. No one else can come up with this amount of nonsense-"
"I've seen some Sues," Allison muttered. "And so have you."
"-and try to flog it off as humour. Allison, if you could charge Sam here."
Allison gave Sam her most pleasant smirk. "Sam, without a last name. We charge you, and your brother -- who I imagine is your alter-ego rather than a different person -- with trolling the A-Team continuum. We charge you with daft plotting, slapstick scenes that are just not funny, baseball bats that fit inside jacket sleeves, BA using kids as bait, Hannibal having early onset Alzheimer's, and other general stupidity by the Team that was supposed to be funny, but only made us laugh because we didn't want to cry at the out-of-characterness of the guys.
"We charge you with putting a jewellery store in the same block as a youth centre, having the Team fly to Las Vegas when it's only a few hours' drive, putting airbags in an 1983 van and being a restaurant owner slash superspy." Allison folded her notepad away. "Despite the brain damage this fic and that lamppost caused Tasmin, I think she's still a straight shot. She will shoot you now."
Which Tasmin did. With her Colt M1911, right between the eyes of the troll. He turned to rocks and dust. Tasmin kicked the pile of rubble apart for good measure.
The Team members started to slowly wake up from the spell the troll had put over them.
"I just had the strangest dream," Murdock said. "BA, you were dressed up as Elvis and- Oops."
BA growled at Murdock.
"I think our work here is done." Tasmin returned her gun to her duffel bag.
"Shouldn't we return these guys to LA?"
Tasmin shrugged her shoulders. "Nah, they travel a lot. They know how to get home. Who knows, on the way they may bump into an interesting case." She opened a portal.
"Yeah. Or another Sue." Allison followed her partner back to their response centre. "And we never did get that pizza."
-oOo-
A/N: A fic may be marked as humour, but if the joke is that the characters act stupidly and out of character it just isn't going to be funny.
A/N: Protectors of the Plot Continuum was founded by Jay and Acacia. Excerpts in italics were taken from Viva Las Suckas by element115.
-oOo-
"Let's go for pizza," Tasmin said.
Allison eyed her partner. "You want to share a meal, with me? Why are you opening a portal?"
"A-Team is helping out some pizza makers. And we're helping them out."
"That probably means that the last thing we'll eat is pizza." Allison slumped her shoulders and followed her partner through the portal.
-oOo-
The agents arrived in the fic just as BA pulled the van into the parking lot of the restaurant. Hannibal pointed at the "closed" sign. BA found it odd the restaurant would be closed on the busiest night of the week.
"Somethin' ain't right, man," B.A. said, stopping the van.
"Charge one, driving in circles on the parking lot."
Allison rolled her eyes, pulled a pencil from behind her ear and made a note in the pad she had managed to grab before going into the fic. "Hannibal could have just read the sign from a moving ve-"
A small time rift knocked Allison off her feet and placed the Team at the door of the restaurant.
"How come you didn't fall?" she growled at her partner.
"I pay attention," Tasmin replied. "Get up. We need to get into that restaurant too." She pulled the remote activator from her bag.
-oOo-
"We could have gone by portal before that time rift happened," Allison said.
The agents were in the restaurant behind some conveniently placed plants. The restaurant was empty save for the owner, Tony, who was sweeping the floor.
"Doesn't he have a Hoover?"
"He's Italian, not English."
"Doesn't mean he doesn't know about household appliances. Besides, Hoover was a US industrialist."
"Shh."
Tony let the Team in.
"What's goin' on Sam?" said B.A.
"Calling the character by the wrong name. Sam's the brother."
"Technically, he's not calling him by his name, is he? There should have been a comma after 'on' for him to call Tony Sam. Now, he's just asking him what's happening on Sam. Or what kind of ingredients go on Sam."
Tasmin hit Allison in the back of her head.
Tony explained that his brother was kidnapped by Tommy Armone to force him to sell his restaurant. Face, of course, knew this thug, and his connections.
"Some times I wonder whether Face could have gotten his pardon by becoming state's witness against the mob."
Hannibal suggested he should exterminate the rat. He thought Armone would want the pizza restaurant for a specific purpose.
If we can figure out what it is, maybe we can get your brother back, and turn the tables on these low-lifes.
"Shouldn't that be low lives?"
"I don't think low life has a plural. Seen as its definition is people -- rather than person -- who exists by criminal activities."
Tony accepted the Team's offer of help and said they could ask him any price, if they returned his brother.
"Salud, Tony" Hannibal said. "You've just hired the A-Team."
"I think Hannibal is not very good with his words today."
-oOo-
The next morning, BA helped a couple of kids set up a lemonade stand. Then he hid underneath the table.
The agents were leaning against a nearby lamppost with a good view of the proceedings.
"Do kids in the city set up lemonade stands? I thought that was more of a small town kind of thing. For areas where they have a surplus of lemons, and thirsty people."
"Never mind that. BA is using kids to act as bait for the bad guys."
Allison snapped her fingers. "That explains that pig I saw flying by earlier."
No sooner was BA out of sight than a black Cadillac pulled up and two men in suits got out. One of them asked the kids if they had a permit, and when the kids answered negatively, told them to beat it. That's when BA jumped up.
The Underling ran at B.A. with a baseball bat.
"He slid that one out of his sleeve, right? I already thought he was walking with a bit of a stiff arm."
The thug with the bat was quickly dumped in the trash. Then the other one pulled a gun, but before he could use it, the van came to a screeching stop behind him and Hannibal jumped out, training a machine gun on the man.
While Face searched this thug for weapons and other items of interest, Hannibal questioned him on who wanted the property.
"Didn't Tony already tell him that? Tommy Armone. It's not just his words he's got trouble with, his short-term memory is also starting to get holes in it. Do you suppose-"
"No."
"You didn't even let me finish."
"That's because whatever you are supposing isn't going to happen in this fic."
"You can't know that. Perhaps I was going to suggest something terribly mundane and absolutely badfic fitting."
"Go on then."
"Suppose Hannibal develops Alzheimer's?"
Tasmin sucked in air and counted till three. "I suppose every badfic incarnation of Hannibal has Alzheimer's disease. It's never becomes a plot point though."
Meanwhile, Face had lifted a matchbook from one of the man's pockets.
"'Imperial Resort'," Hannibal said, reading the logo on it. "That's that giant new casino hotel in Las Vegas. Guys, I think we could use a vacation."
"So could I," Allison said. "You know, there is something to be said for a smoking ban in the workplace. There would be no purpose for matchbooks with company logos, and your employees wouldn't attract the wrong kind of visitors."
"Who says he works for that casino? Perhaps he's a gambling man himself. Hannibal's jumping to illogical conclusions here."
"I thought we agreed that Hannibal was senile in this fic?"
Despite having an idea of where to go, the Team decided to return Murdock to the VA so they could break him out again the next morning.
Tasmin banged her head against the lamppost.
The next morning, however, MPs were in hot pursuit of the Team (before they could break out Murdock) and BA was complaining that he wasn't going to fly.
"He doesn't have a pilot and it's only a four-hour drive to Las Vegas. What makes him think they are going to fly?" Tasmin punctuated the question by banging her head against the lamppost.
Allison gave her partner a worried look. "Would you like to have a pillow?"
"A pillow kinda defeats the purpose." Tasmin rolled her cheek against the cool metal.
"Oh, I don't know. It could be useful to smother the Sue."
"I don't even know who the Sue is in this fic." Tasmin thumped her head against the lamppost in short repetitive strokes.
"I think we can have our pick of Sues. Hannibal and BA are the most likely candidates now. And could you stop doing that thing with your head? I think I can hear bone cracking."
"Okay, I'll stop now."
Hannibal told BA to take the next exit, which led straight to an airport complex. At the airport Hannibal grabbed the wheel of the van and caused a crash into a concrete road barrier.
"BA would have tried to countersteer that."
"BA would have hit the brakes."
"I think we have our Sue."
The MPs approached slowly, guns drawn, but all they could see was the puffy white of the inflated airbags.
Tasmin reintroduced her head to the lamppost.
"What's wrong now? That looked like a perfectly acceptable action. The first in this fic."
"BA drives a 1983 GMC G-series van. Airbags weren't standard in that model until 1994, and I doubt they even were part of the optional package in 1983. Airbags first became common in the mid-80s. GM offered them optional on some of their full-size models from 1974 onwards, but that's cars, not vans. The number of times we've seen the van land after it jumped a ramp, we should have seen those airbags deploy ages ago."
Allison nodded. "Using technology that isn't era appropriate." She made the note.
Captain Crane used a sewing pin to deflate an airbag, only to find out that the van was empty. The Team had managed to get out before the MPs saw them, and hitched a ride from a luggage tram. They walked into the terminal where, assisted by slapstick intervention, Hannibal and Face managed to knock BA out. They carted him off to a private jet and were greeted there by Murdock -- who had apparently broken himself out of the VA.
"I'll understand if you want to keep banging your head. Actually, I'm wondering if that lamppost is big enough for the both of us."
Tasmin made a hand gesture that said there was.
Allison hit her head against the light fixture. She stepped back reeling. "Never doing that again." She flopped onto the ground. "It helps, though," she said. "This fic is suddenly starting to make sense."
Allison half-focused on the Words. "Oh, we have to go to the casino." She scrambled up. "Hannibal is dressing up as a mariachi singer in an attempt to stay inconspicuous."
Tasmin put the lamppost to some more good use before she stepped through the portal.
-oOo-
Not only was Hannibal dressed as a mariachi singer, BA had donned the guise of an Elvis impersonator.
"I don't know whether to laugh or cry," Tasmin said. "BA never wears a disguise. Never. He carries a shovel at best."
BA's disguise, however, meant that he could follow Tommy Armone around, and find out where he was going. Then BA and Murdock went to the suite below and drilled a hole in the ceiling and through the floor big enough for Murdock to fit through. Thus able to eavesdrop he learned that Armone tried to buy up all the property in Tony's block so his boss could set up an arcade there under the name HappyFunLand.
"Wasn't that the name of the amusement park in That 70s show?"
"I think that was just called Funland."
The only businesses left are a gold jewelry store, a dairy distributor, and some youth center.
"I doubt a youth centre could afford the same property values as a jewellery story," Tasmin said.
"Jewellery stores are usually located in the high-street."
"Or near other stores that sell upscale consumer goods."
BA was also upset a youth centre was part of the plans, but for different reasons. He jumped up in anger and inadvertently pushed Murdock through the hole in the ceiling, right in site of the two men they were eavesdropping on. Tommy Armone grabbed a violin case, grabbed his gun from it and started firing at will.
"Why don't casinos have lampposts?" Tasmin looked around.
"This is badfic. If you want one, you can make one appear. Look, there's one over there now." Allison pointed at the green mock-18th century lamppost.
BA and Murdock left the building through a garbage chute. They didn't get very far, and were soon, along with Hannibal and Face, captured by the thugs. They were locked into a storage room where they met Sam. Sam told them he had enough evidence to put these guys away.
These guys have been toting me around for months, and I've managed to gather evidence every chance I can get. I've got photocopies and taped phone calls of everything from bribing zoning boards to shifting accounts around to crooked contractors. It's all in a P.O. Box nobody knows about, but I've got to get out of here.
"That's mighty clever for a restaurant owner," Allison said.
"And mighty stupid of these thugs. And why didn't he go to the police with his evidence?"
"Probably because he obtained most of his evidence through illegal methods. Taping other people's phone conversations without a warrant, breaking into offices to make photocopies of their files. Any lawyer worth half his fee would make mince meat out of this guy."
The guys weren't locked in the storage room long: BA found a tank of propane which he opened a bit to check whether it still contained gas. They devised a plan to break out and Hannibal lit a cigar to celebrate. This ignited the propane and caused an explosion. Murdock sprayed everything with foam from a fire extinguisher and the thugs, who came to check on the racket, slipped on the foam and all fell. The Team and Sam snuck out.
"I've had enough of this headache. We'll put a stop to this right now." Tasmin grabbed the remote activator and opened a portal.
-oOo-
The Team managed to escape the hotel building, but were still on the grounds of the resort. As a matter of fact, they found themselves on a golf course. Hannibal jumped behind the wheel of a golf cart. BA pushed him aside and the rest of the group jumped on the cart as well. The thugs were soon in pursuit. Without any weapons to speak of, the only way out the Team saw was to try and jump a pond with the cart.
They failed.
When the five dripping wet men crawled out of the pond on the other side the two PPC agents stood waiting for them.
"Don't you know that suit is dry clean only?" Allison nodded to BA's Elvis costume. He growled in reply.
"Gentlemen, we are Protectors of Plot Continuum. We have to inform you that you are infected by a troll."
"Troll?" three men and Allison asked.
"Yes, troll. No one else can come up with this amount of nonsense-"
"I've seen some Sues," Allison muttered. "And so have you."
"-and try to flog it off as humour. Allison, if you could charge Sam here."
Allison gave Sam her most pleasant smirk. "Sam, without a last name. We charge you, and your brother -- who I imagine is your alter-ego rather than a different person -- with trolling the A-Team continuum. We charge you with daft plotting, slapstick scenes that are just not funny, baseball bats that fit inside jacket sleeves, BA using kids as bait, Hannibal having early onset Alzheimer's, and other general stupidity by the Team that was supposed to be funny, but only made us laugh because we didn't want to cry at the out-of-characterness of the guys.
"We charge you with putting a jewellery store in the same block as a youth centre, having the Team fly to Las Vegas when it's only a few hours' drive, putting airbags in an 1983 van and being a restaurant owner slash superspy." Allison folded her notepad away. "Despite the brain damage this fic and that lamppost caused Tasmin, I think she's still a straight shot. She will shoot you now."
Which Tasmin did. With her Colt M1911, right between the eyes of the troll. He turned to rocks and dust. Tasmin kicked the pile of rubble apart for good measure.
The Team members started to slowly wake up from the spell the troll had put over them.
"I just had the strangest dream," Murdock said. "BA, you were dressed up as Elvis and- Oops."
BA growled at Murdock.
"I think our work here is done." Tasmin returned her gun to her duffel bag.
"Shouldn't we return these guys to LA?"
Tasmin shrugged her shoulders. "Nah, they travel a lot. They know how to get home. Who knows, on the way they may bump into an interesting case." She opened a portal.
"Yeah. Or another Sue." Allison followed her partner back to their response centre. "And we never did get that pizza."
-oOo-
A/N: A fic may be marked as humour, but if the joke is that the characters act stupidly and out of character it just isn't going to be funny.