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(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

Avon whirled along with all the troopers and fired at the makeshift-armoured land vehicle (it looked as if it had been a hover -harvester before someone welded airlock doors all over it) that crashed through the wall of Blake's base. The vehicle blew up, did a 360-degree flip and crashed on top of an empty space. Four men piled out of it, miraculously unharmed. A white haired man with a cigar clamped between his teeth yelled, 'Sic 'em, B.A.' and waved his hand. A huge black man loaded with enough gold to have bought a dozen Avons at Verlis's slave auction began picking troopers up and flinging them around like toys. A handsome young man and a rather wild-eyed fellow began pulling both Avon's people and Blake's people to one side, out of the carnage, which surprisingly didn't seem to involve any actual injury.

Avon stared, standing with the gun held loosely in his hands, still protectively hovering over Blake. The handsome man sidled up to him, smiling. "Hello, my name is Peck, Templeton Peck. My card." He stuffed a small piece of paper into Avon's pocket. "If you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find us, you can hire the A-Team." He beamed and gently said, "May I?" as he took the gun from Avon's nerveless fingers.

"All done, Colonel!" B.A. said, cracking his knuckles. A mound of troopers lay behind him, whimpering.

"I love it when a plan comes together." The white-haired man nodded, reached up to his face, and peeled it off.

Avon nearly bit his tongue as all four men removed incredibly life-life masks which had not only altered their features, but their voices and even over all skin colour. The white-haired man nodded to the former black man, who was still huge. "Willie, make sure that Mr. Avon doesn't hurt himself."

"Sure thing, Mr. Phelps." Willie picked Avon up and held him, while looking placidly around the tracking gallery as the other two men injected everyone lying on the floor except the troopers, Arlen and Blake, using rings with tiny hypodermics. The white-haired man stared impassively at Avon. "Barney, have you got the tape?"

"Right here." The black man wearing the clothes that the wild-eyed man had been wearing grinned and held up a vid-disk. "The Federation will think they're all dead." Avon watched as the injected bodies began to stir.

Phelps nodded. "We'll take Avon into custody for the courts to decide his fate."

"Now, let's not do anything hasty. Uncle wouldn't like it." A black-haired man dressed in a meticulously tailored suit entered from the heart of the base, behind Phelps and his crew. He was holding a gun and smiling. At his side, and slightly behind him, a solemn-faced man whose long blond hair needed a trim carried another gun, aiming it directly at Mr. Phelps. "Please to put down your weapons," the blond said politely.

"Now, wait a minute, this is my mission," Mr. Phelps protested.

"U.N.C.L.E. is a multi-national organization which takes precedence over a covert United States espionage group. Napoleon and I are in charge," the blond said firmly. He pointed to the badge on his black jacket.

Phelps sighed. "All right, but only under protest. Your lot is always stealing my thunder," he grumbled.

"Not always." The voice came from a pillar off to one side. Everyone turned towards it. A man wearing a suit as natty as Napoleon's, but to London-Dome standards instead of New York-Dome, twirled a cane and tipped his bowler hat. "Gentlemen, I believe you will find that this is my case."

"Our case, Mr. Steed." A russet-haired woman in a black leather cat-suit stepped gracefully out from the other side of the pillar, and Avon, still dangling from Willie's arms, lost his heart immediately.

"No, you just wait a minute!" Phelps protested, simultaneously with Napoleon's, "Mr. Waverly won't like this!"

Steed said, "Mrs. Peel, would you care to dance?"

"I'd love to, Mr. Steed." Mrs. Peel took Mr. Steed's hand, bent towards him and back kicked Mr. Phelps across the room. Mr. Steed frisbeed his bowler into Napoleon's temple. All three contingents began fighting.

Willie dropped Avon on top of Blake and joined the fray.

There was a whooshing noise, and a slender man with curly blond hair wearing a red skin-tight suit and a black cape flew in through the gap in the wall, hitting one side with a flailing arm and enlarging the hole. The fighting stopped. Avon quivered as the man skidded to a halt, coughed and patted plaster dust off the front of his suit. "Now, now, can't we all be friends?" He went over to Tarrant and grinned. "Mom says 'hi'."

Tarrant mouthed the word 'mom' and stared blankly up at the man.

"Oh, that's right, she didn't get to tell you. I'm Ralph, your son, yours and Cally's. I've just got back from the future." He beamed, and Tarrant went white.

A man in a rather seedy suit, with 'cynical Fed. agent' written all over his face, clambered in through the rubble. "Geez, Ralph, can't you ever just knock a door in or something? This is hell on my suit."

"I didn't do it, Bill; it was like that when I got here!"

"Yeah, yeah, don't get your jammies in a twist." Bill pulled a card out of his pocket, "You all are under arrest. You all know your rights, right? Fine." He put the card away.

A slender man in a tight-fitting green suit appeared in the middle of the group. Antennae shrank back into his head. "Ralph, could you give me a ride home to Mars with you?"

"Mars?" Ralph asked, bewildered.

"I see you're wearing last year's model of super-suit. I know a tailor on the Grand Canal who can give you a really handsome number in blue. It won't make you look like such a... well..." He took Ralph by the arm off to one side, with Bill following, protesting.

Avon sat on the floor looking at all the Authorities standing around him glaring at each other. He wondered if they would draw straws for him or just divide him into thirds. Of course, the bounty was on his head, so two-thirds of them would be out of the money. There was a puff of pink smoke that smelled like roses and candy floss and all the Authorities backed warily away in different directions.

A little girl toddled up to Avon and giggled. She twitched her nose and a black and white kitten appeared in his lap. Avon yelped and jumped, the kitten squeaked and dug its claws into a tender part. A bigger puff of pink smoke appeared, this one smelling like roses and lemon household cleaner. A slightly harassed looking blonde woman holding a broom in one hand walked out of the cloud, and frowned at the little girl. "Now, Tabitha, haven't I told you not to go around bothering people?"

The little girl nodded solemnly, one finger in her mouth, and went to the woman and took her hand. The woman said, "I'm really sorry, Mr. ..."

Wearily Avon supplied his name, "Avon." He cradled his head between his hands and tried to ignore the kitten that was licking his chin.

"Are you all right, Mr. Avon?" the woman asked.

"Not really." He waved at the Authorities and sundry persons. "They all want to arrest me, I've just shot my best friend, and I'm going mad. And I have a headache."

"I'm sure it's not all as bad as that." The woman rummaged in a pink purse, and came up with a little white pill. She offered it to him.

Avon took it and gulped it down. "What was that, cyanide?"

"Certainly not! It was an aspirin! I'm sure you're really a very nice man, Mr. Avon, and you won't shoot anyone else, will you?"

"No, probably not," Avon said as the kitten curled up in his lap and went to sleep.

"I didn't think so." The woman wiggled her nose, and all the Authorities and sundry disappeared. "I sent them home. Goodbye, Mr. Avon." She took a firm grip on the little girl's hand and wriggled her nose again.

"Wait!" Avon scrambled to his feet, startling the kitten again, with painful consequences. "Blake! Can you help..." But the woman and little girl were gone. Avon's crew and Blake's people gathered and stared at Avon and then they looked down at Blake's body.

Avon was terribly embarrassed. He wished someone would say something. "Blake's dead, izzin 'e," Vila said, accusingly. Avon wished someone had said something else.

"Ah. Yes." Avon looked down at the kitten clinging to his crotch.

"And how did that happen?" Deva said, frowning and tossing his hair out of his eyes.

"I’m not really quite sure," Avon muttered.

"I am!" Klyn said. "If I hadn't been wearing my Cross My Heart Force-shield Bra, you'd have done me too, you little rotter." She kicked Avon in the knee. The kitten hissed, leaped onto Klyn's leg and bit her with its tiny teeth.

There was a puff of black smoke. It smelled like liquorice, frogs, and mildew. Everyone coughed and sneezed. The kitten scrambled back to Avon, ran up his chest and shoved its little pink nose into his armpit, sneezing.

"Grandmama, this isn't the Undertaker's Picnic! You've got us lost again. I knew I shouldn't have let you drive the cloud." A tall woman with waist length black hair who was wearing a black Servalanesque gown asymmetrically cropped in a very sexy fashion slithered up to Avon and patted his face with her long, black-taloned nails. Avon lost his heart again. "You're not an undertaker, are you?"

Avon cleared his throat. "My name is Avon." His mind went blank as she scratched his cheek and then sucked the drop of blood off her finger.

The old lady behind the young one cackled and pointed at Blake. "Of course he is, look there's a fresh one! Mmm... he's a big 'un. Morticia, say I can have him, please! You know I've been dying to try out my elixir of life."

"Grandmama, don't be rude. That's Mr. Avon's body. You can't go around bringing people back to life without asking permission."

"Oh. Yes." Avon looked down at Blake, who was not getting any better with the passing of time and Avon landing on him, etc. "Yes, please Grandmama, if you can bring Blake back to life, I would appreciate it." After all, Avon thought, if need be, I can always kill him again later, when there isn't an audience.

The old lady giggled and tittered and poured a tiny vial of something green and smoking down Blake's throat. A few seconds later, Blake gagged and sat up. "MY GOD, that stuff's foul! I need a drink!"

A hand... just a hand... popped up out of the old woman's reticule, holding a pocket watch between two of its fingers. Morticia gasped, "Oh, we'll be late for the three legged race!" She pulled a dismembered leg out of a sack and waved it around. Before Avon could thank them, the two women disappeared.

Vila offered Blake an adrenaline and soma. Blake took a sniff, and gagged again, shoving it back at Vila. "That's gone right off." He stood up and went over to Avon. "You shot me."

"Yes, well. I didn't actually mean to do that," Avon said, backing away nervously.

"Maybe not the first time, but by the third time, I really did suspect a certain unfriendly intent." Blake grabbed Avon by the throat. "Don't go away. I'm not through talking to you." He looked into Avon's eyes. "You've left a nasty taste in my mouth, Avon."

Avon squeaked around Blake's fingers. The kitten looked at Blake, fluffed up, jumped off Avon, and hid in the pile of troopers. "A very nasty taste, Avon." Blake's teeth were suddenly very long and very white and very pointy. Avon noticed this a second before Blake bit his throat and sucked on him like a sherbet straw.

There was a creak, and an old wooden door which remarkably no one had ever noticed before opened in the floor. "See, Barnabus, I told you I'd find the way out of the basement," came a groveling sort of voice, followed by an ill-dressed, sullen and cringing fellow who matched the voice. "Oh, hullo... didn't see you there..." He looked at Blake and winced.

A man in a fairly subdued outfit compared to some of the previous visitors -- muted plaid suit and half cape (although his absurdly Napoleonic hair-style helped to make up for it) --, came up out of the stairs set in the floor. "Willie, you ignoramus, this territory is already taken!" He snarled, showing teeth like Blake's, lifted a cane with a silver wolf's head handle and started beating the hapless Willie. Willie shrieked and ran about with Barnabus following him whacking away with the cane, and everyone else trying to get out of the way. Blake ignored them and continued sucking Avon, who was getting light-headed, which seemed to improve his headache.

There was a patter of sneakers (plimsolls to Avon and his lot) on the steps leading up from the door in the floor, and a man dressed in an ill-fitting off white suit and crumpled-looking straw hat emerged, shouting, "Kolchak, INS! This is NEWS!" He lifted a camera hung about his neck and took a photo of Barnabus whaling away at Willie. Barnabus shrieked at the powerful flash and ran. Avon rolled his eyes watching as the three of them ran around the room, with Kolchak snapping photos and Willie trying to protect Barnabus from the flash. After several circuits of the room, Barnabus turned into a bat and flew down into the tunnel followed by Willie and Kolchak.

Dayna ran over and kicked the door shut. Soolin and Tarrant pushed a console on top of it, and then sat down on top of the console. Blake continued to suck Avon. Everyone else gathered around Soolin and Tarrant, looking in all the corners of the room, expecting the unexpected.

Suddenly Soolin leaped up. "Al," she shouted, "Who am I this time?" She cocked her head and looked at someone who wasn't there. She scowled then, turned and pointed to the entwined Blake and Avon. Avon was beginning to look pale even under his Gay Glance and Cool Copper fake tan makeup. "Oh, come on, Al, I'm only supposed to jump within my own lifetime, and I sure wasn't intended to convince futuristic vampires that it would be bad for history to turn their ex-friends into blood-suckers." Soolin folded her arms. "Tell the time-whoozits they've got the wrong boy."

Soolin appeared to glow for an instant, and then she turned back to the others, who were staring at her. "What? Have I got a smudge on my nose?"

A soft whooshing noise began. Vila crept under the console, along with Tarrant and Deva. Soolin and Dayna rummaged for guns, and then stood back to back to back with Klyn who had no guns, but she did have a heavy handbag that she wasn't afraid to use.

A swirling black and white spiral grew suddenly, depositing two men on the floor. They both looked quite dazed. Our three heroines looked them over carefully. No weapons. One was wearing a tight jumper and dark trousers; the other had a plain suit. A woman's voice came out of the air. "Tony, Doug, can you hear us?"

"Yes, yes we can, Doctor MacGregor," the taller man said, helping the other man to his feet. "We're in... the future..." He looked at the heaped bodies, and Blake and Avon, then at everyone else. "Are you Martians?"

Soolin snorted. "Do I look like a hairy, potbellied Martian sand-miner to you?"

The shorter man smiled at Soolin. "No, actually you look very beautiful." He started towards Soolin. The taller man caught him by the collar. "Down, boy. Didn't that time with Marie Antoinette teach you anything, Tony? Look, but don't touch."

"Aw, Doug." Tony sighed.

Soolin scowled. Tony was cute. "Well, what do you want, then?"

"We'd just like to go home, ma'am," Doug said, practically tipping a hat he wasn't wearing. "We've been bouncing all over time for... ages."

Blake's sucking was now producing a noise like the last gurgle of a strawberry ice cream soda.

"It's like we're all stuck in a nightmare," Vila moaned.

The lights suddenly flickered. Everything went dark except for a single spotlight. A dark-haired man walked into the light. He smiled. It was not a reassuring smile. "The flight of Kerr Avon has ended now, a flight not only from point A to point B, but also from the fear of mental breakdown. Kerr Avon has that fear no longer... "

Blake dropped Avon's body and he started for the dark-haired man in the light.

The dark-haired man continued talking calmly, "For you see, he has made his final journey into ... the Twilight Zone."

The whole room went black and slowly stars appeared. "Sod this for a game of soldiers," Soolin said, and shot in the direction she last heard the man talking. There was an "arghhhh" and then the lights came up. The eerie narrator was gone, and so were Doug and Tony.

Avon sat up and patted at his neck, looking totally bewildered. Blake suddenly started laughing, reached into his mouth and pulled out a set of plastic fangs, tossing them at Avon. Avon stared at the teeth. The troopers all got to their feet, took off their helmets, and grinned at him. Everyone else, including Arlen, got up and surrounded Avon.

A voice came over the base announcer. It was an old man, but one still vigorous. You could tell from the sound of it that he'd got a lot of fun out of life. "Smile," he said, "you're on Candid Camera!"

Avon whimpered. The kitten came out from behind the troopers and curled up in his lap again.