Hannibal gnawed on the end of her Cuban cigar. It was the last one of the batch. She had been hoarding them with dedication before her team had been thrown into jail on trumped up charges. After she had sprung her three team members from the military prison she had made a side trip to her stash. Hannibal was just like her father in that respect. They could smoke and drink anyone under the table without a care for their lungs or livers. And like her father it'd probably be cancer rather than a bullet that'd do her in despite her new life style. Her old man would be so proud in his own disapproving way.

Hannibal looked over the survey maps again. The ink lines swam as she let her eyes unfocus. Hannibal hadn't been to Africa with her military career. She had mainly stayed stateside or in the middle east. Sure there was the occasional deployment to Asia or the Oceania area. But that was the extent. If Hannibal was being honest with herself she was never much for the world adventuring allure. She was more than happy with boots on the ground and a rifle in hand. If that was in a jungle or in a desert, well, she really didn't care.

Being a mercenary wasn't something she had thought about either. As a young girl she knew she'd be career military. Retirement wasn't something she ever thought about. Frankly she never thought she'd make it that far. So when she had started calling in her chips (inventively because she was going it in a military prison) the idea had blind sided her. Donaldson knew a guy who worked for a non-profit in Africa. His friend was building schools, getting the locals access to clean water and medicine, the whole nine yards. A real boy scout. Anyways Donaldson told Hannibal he'd help her because he owed her. But.

Hannibal shifted her cigar to the other side of her mouth. If it was lit it would have been better. It was bothering her that she wasn't smoking. Donaldson asked Hannibal for another favor. He said no strings attached. After all there was the debt. But he also said if she did this he'd still be indebted to her. Hannibal sighed causing Face to glare at her over the top of the warn paperback. He had found it stashed in one of the seats. Being free suited Face. He looked much more like the young man he was.

"Christsakes Hannibal. Just light the damned thing." Face said exasperated. "I'll happily die of lung cancer if I don't have to listen to you complain."

Hannibal leveled a glare at the lieutenant. Brenner was never happy unless there was something to complain about. Like Hannibal. First it was all don't smoke Hannibal now it was why aren't you smoking Hannibal. And she was not complaining. "Just buckle in LT. We're almost there."

The Hannibal looked pointedly out the window. The continent of Africa was now in view and growing. They'd have to ditch the plane, find themselves a truck and head to the village. The plane was far too easily traceable for the US military. They couldn't park it anywhere near their final destination. And if they laid a few false trails they could throw the military off their trail for a while. After all, what cause did Hannibal and her team have to go to Africa other than to use it as a diversion while they scurried off to another hidey-hole. Or that was what she wanted the military to think.

"Great." Face grumbled. "You know I never got shot in jail. I had access to clean water and clothes. And did I mention that no one shot at me?" The man continued his complaining as he gathered up his few scant belongings and went back to check on B.A. Hannibal smiled around her cigar. He was a good kid. Hannibal looked back down at the topographical map and tapped her finger on the village. Warlords using children as their army wasn't something she could let pass. She didn't like the idea of putting their innocence on hold but she liked the idea of children soldiers less.

If you asked Henry “Howling Mad” Murdock where he was born, there might’ve been a chance that he’d tell you the boring truth of the matter, but then again there was the chance he would’ve given you an elaborate story of how he was born in the cockpit of a Boeing 707 that turned into a ranting story of the rise and fall of Pan-Am Airways. In a sense, that was his life— high strung insanity that was somewhere between gag and madness. The last few years? Well, they were probably the most insane of anything he had ever experienced, concocted, or believed. Shifting from a unorthodox ace pilot to a soldier of fortune that evaded the military that sought to punish them for a crime he wasn’t responsible or even guilty of was a wild tonal shift that only he, of their crack group of commandos, enjoyed; in fact he knew he was the only one who enjoyed it, because he had convinced himself and the world around him that he was mentally insane and delusional.

It was probably one reason that Bariah “Bad Attitude” Baracus needed to be unconscious for her to even consider being a consistent passenger whilst he was flying their group around. Their leader, Hannibal, was more than happy to oblige with that sentiment with a steady supply of tranquilizers. But accommodating Baracus was only one small issue that they had to deal with as they moved on place to place trying to get the edge on what exactly happened to them and how to get the military to believe that they didn’t do what they said they did.

As Baracus slept in the shoddily put-together airplane that Face had “acquired” for Murdock, the mad pilot could hear the banter between his squadmates.

“Shot, bang, boom. If they don’t shoot you, they shoot you— very peculiar. Much like Africa, peculiar.”

It wasn’t very audible given the sound of clanking metal and machinery and Murdock wasn’t even sure what he was going on about. There were ways to reply clearly, simply, and directly to Face’s whining about the situation of being free but what he had just said wasn’t it. He felt like he knew it didn’t make any sense, but nothing made sense to him anymore. It was like a piece just flung off from his being.

Much like the plane.

“That isn't good.” He muttered, before one of his comrades would surely jump and yell at him at what just happened.

"Oh no." Face staggered a little as the plane shuddered. "Oh no." He repeated. Secretly he sympathized with B.A. Whenever they flew with Murdock it was a coin toss whether something bad would happen. Fifty-fifty was never reassuring. Thankfully God still seemed to look out for them. Even if all of them no longer looked out for God. Or even believed in him. Face found his own faith waivering. One moment he hates God. Then he thanks him. Then he goes back to not believing in the deity. The sisters who ran the orphanage he grew up in would have been ashamed of him. Sometimes the thought had him regretting his path in life, but never for long. He made his choices and he'd never abandon any of his comrades.

"Murdock!" Face gave B.A one good look. She was securely strapped in. Face hustled past Hannibal who was calmly putting away her maps and other equipment. The calm commander seemed completely unbothered by the unwanted noise. Face scowled into the cockpit and at their rather insane companion.

"What did you do?" Face bemoaned. "Are we crashing? B.A. is going to kill you."

Behind him Face could hear Hannibal's smokey laugh. Face ignored his (ex)commanding officer as he sat down in the co-pilot's chair. Just in case.

A brief chuckle left Murdock’s voice as Face stumbled into the cockpit with a nervous manner to him. In his usual tone he replied back to his comrade as he attempted to steady the plane as the right wing had lost a piece of metal that had been hastily welded on during a cheap repair job. It hadn’t been Murdock’s fault— after all, it was Face who secured the plane. If you buy cheap, expect to fly cheap. On the flip side however, the plane was unmarked and sold on the DL so the military probably was still snooping around in their previous location for them. Then again, the plane was still beginning to fall apart like Murdock had presumed. He had tied to warn Face, but the kid kept interjecting him on the subject. This had to be the plane, no question— it would also be the last plane they flew on if not for the fact Murdock could fly half-a-plane.

“I prefer the term rapidly decelerating.”

Murdock let out another snicker before letting out an in-character quotation from the 1957 film, Zero Hour.

“Our survival hinges on one thing! Finding someone who not only can fly this plane, but didn't have fish for dinner.”

Another squeal of cracking metal, in a few minutes their right propeller was going to snap right off. Murdock knew it. Murdock shot a wide grin to Face as he tried to lower the plane to a reasonable spot to crash land the old junker. The comment about B.A. was true— but Murdock knew she was on heavy tranquilizers so unless they wore off early that wasn’t going to be a problem. The only problem he had to deal with was his “co-pilot” sweating and panicking. This was nothing new, before the A-Team he had safely landed a plane that had been hit by a SAM strike with no casualties, so unless he was super incompetent today there was no way this was going to be the way they went out.

It wasn’t going to be a smooth landing, for sure.

As the plane began to shake Hannibal calmly began to pack up. However despite her calm exterior, her adrenaline was beginning to pump. No matter how many hot zones Hannibal had flown over. No matter how many crappy planes, helos, gliders, etc, she had found herself in during her career. It was always the second bump that was the worst. The first could be a fluke, an error. But the second? The second was a confirmation of falling. She knew it was inevitable. The medium sized plane hadn't been in tip-top shape to begin with. Face had proclaimed that it was air worthy.

"Just got repaired yesterday." Face beamed at Hannibal proudly as they scooped out their route to steal the air craft. If there had been any other options Hannibal might have made Face keep looking. The bird was older than she was. But with the government breathing down their back they needed to move quick. Pity this was their only option.

Hannibal pulled out her lighter and struggled to light her cigar as the plane began to experience even worse turbulence. She laughed a loud as she heard Face complain about their crashing. Like he was surprised. Maybe he was. It was hard to tell sometimes if he knew all his lies or if he was even lying to himself.

Cigar finally lit Hannibal took a long drag and looked over at their Sergeant. Still snug as a bug and strapped in tight. Hannibal took another long drag as the plane began to tilt in a downwards direction. Hannibal was never fond of waiting for anything. It was a habit she had been forced to curb first by her father than by the military. Having to wait for a plane to crash? Not something she enjoyed even if she could listen to Face squawk and complain.

The ground was near now. Hannibal could see the tops of trees in the window. Then came the landing. Hannibal's body snapped against the seat belt and her cigar went flying.

Son of a bitch. Hannibal could clearly remember thinking after the plane settled. Of the whole trip that was what annoyed her the most. A good cigar wasted.

Hannibal slowly undid her seat belt as the trauma of the crash passed. There was silence for a few moments and she feared the worst. Then she hear Face's lovely voice from up front cussing. One accounted for. She finally undid the latch and staggered over to B.A. The woman was still out and completely fine. How she always managed that unconscious was beyond Hannibal. Maybe being limp did help?

"How we doing Captain?" Hannibal was more steady as she poked her head into the cockpit. "All limbs still attached?"

"I'm fine Hannibal. Thanks for asking." The LT. grumbled from his position in the co-pilot's seat. He was a little rumpled with a possible bruise forming on his shoulder (most likely from the restraints) but fine.

"Good." Hannibal clasped his (uninjured) shoulder. "Go get the guns and check on B.A." She turned her attention back to Murdock as Face complained but did as asked.

As her consciousness came back to her, an audible groan left her lips.

Flying was something B.A. couldn’t stand as much was obvious as her dependence on “sleep aid”, especially considering the present company she had to contend with; but she wasn’t going to make it the equivalent of pulling teeth if the group needed to take a plane over to Dubai, Cairo, or wherever else they needed to go. She wasn’t going be so stupid that she would refuse to fly with Murdock at the wheel and wouldn’t make it a game of cat and mouse for her and her squad; especially with the fact that the United States of America was privy in putting them back behind a locked door. In the situation they were part of she had to understand the situation and operate accordingly even if she didn’t like it and she very much did not like it. Face was an idiot, Murdock was actually certifiably insane, and Hannibal wasn’t privy to sharing all of the details of their plan until she needed to. In terms of comfortability B.A. wondered if she wouldn’t be safer being stuck behind the bars of her cell even if it was for a crime she didn’t commit.

But that would still being stuck in a situation that slandered her name and what her mother saw in her; a fact she could not allow. So she would deal with crazy. As she slowly got to her feet after Face took her out of her sleep she groggily sent out a question.

“What happened?”

She knew what had happened— she wasn’t stupid. She knew the situation, she knew the pilot, and she knew her surroundings. Still, there was always a need of clarity for her when it came to the crazy fool in question’s piloting. Had they been shot down? Had they acquired a crap plane? or was it simple something they couldn’t account for such a legitimate malfunction? She thought for a moment as she rose her hands to her face as the grogginess she felt and the effects of the medication began to wane.

Hannibal turned to her, a wide smirk upon her face. “We’ve landed.”

B.A. groaned in annoyance.

“…whatever. How far did we ‘land’ from our destination?”

Face rubbed his shoulder a little as he slung yet another bag over it. Heavily laden he trudged away from the ruined aircraft to where they were clustered. B.A.'s cheerful voice could be heard as Face moved closer. His own ears perked up curious himself. Hannibal chewed on the end of her cigar then pointed with said cigar.

"About ten or twenty miles that was is a small town named Elelem. Once we get there we should be able to secure some transport to get us closer to out actual destination of Ndjole." Hannibal plopped the cigar back in her mouth and frowned. "Does anyone have a light?"

"Those thing'll kill you." Face said finally close enough to the group. He dropped one of the duffles on the ground, fished out his lighter which he kept for this very purpose and tossed it to his ex-XO. "It's my only one. You lose it you're out of luck." Which was a complete and total lie but Hannibal didn't need to know what.

With her cigar lit and in her mouth she just grunted at Face's remark than turned back to B.A. "Well, get moving. Daylight's a wasting and we've got a long ways ahead of us."

Face removed the other duffle with a sigh. "Do we really have to lug all this stuff twenty miles?"

Hannibal just ignored Face instead opting to look out the dense jungle surrounding them. Face could practically read Hannibal's mind. The foliage would serve as great camouflage to the plane. But he wasn't stupid. If he brought it up it'd be his job to gather tree branches and fend off snakes. No sir. He was just going to keep his moth shut.

A loud sharp whistle exited Murdock’s lips as he dug his hands into the pockets of his brown leather jacket, the ballcap on his head slightly tilted upward as he looked at the damages of the plane in closer detail as Hannibal and B.A. prepared what supplies they needed for the long hike through the jungle that was inevitable.

“It’s really not that bad. It’ll take me a few hours, but I can have it back up in no time flat.”

From what Murdock could tell the only issues they had were some toasted scrap, a missing propeller, and a “overheated” turbine. Murdock knew there were crates in the back of the junker with scrap and spare parts that he could utilize in a repair that could get the plane out of the damn forest when it needed to. Hell, it wouldn’t be the first time he did such a amazing feat. As far as Murdock was concerned it was a salvageable job, though it would still take time— time that would need to be spent away from the rest of the team considering the fact they needed to make it to Elelem in a timely fashion. But this was the way of Murdock and the team knew it; when it came to fixing something that had propellers or turbines, he could get it done with minimal supplies and make it work. It was something of a miracle considering the fact that Murdock supposedly wasn’t quite the engineer B.A. was.

But very rarely did the feats of The A-Team make any sense.

Sometimes not even to other members of the same team.

“You really think that’s a good idea? We should just procure a new method of exit in Ndjole. Hannibal, please tell this fool to stop being a fool. We do not have the time for this nonsense.”

Generally when a talented engineer like Bariah scoffed, she happened to do it very loudly and crassly. A sentiment that was echoed immediately after Murdock made his comment about ‘salvaging’ the airplane. The no-nonsense engineer did not have the time, patience, or mood to play these kind of games.