Hannibal surveyed the yard in front of the house. Ready. Despite the light of the nearly full moon, nobody should spot anything out of the ordinary. The track marks from last night still showed on the hard packed, desiccated earth. If the enemy returned they'd do the same thing again, sweep in, skid across the yard, then jump out and move towards the house.

Right into the trap.

Satisfied, Hannibal strode back to the house. The commune members, with Face and BA, sat around the big table in the kitchen. Everyone looked dirty, sweaty and exhausted. But they'd put their backs into it, he'd give them that. They stayed quiet now, tired and tense, eating some bread and cheese and cold leftovers.

"Some cocoa, John?" Clara asked, and poured him some from a big jug on the table. It hit the spot, creamy and warm, putting strength back into him. He put the mug down.

"It's time," Hannibal said, addressing the commune. "You know your jobs. Take your cues from us, do as we say and you'll all be fine." He glanced at the clock on the wall. Nearly midnight. "They could come any time, so I want everyone in position. Those of you who aren't going to be outside, get down in the basement with the kids and stay there."

The group split. Some of the women stayed inside, heading down to the basement. Hannibal sent Billy with them, not wanting the dog getting in anyone's way out there. Not all the women went into hiding though. A couple of them joined the men outside. Not Hannibal's idea, but as long as the guys kept an eye on them, he'd allow it. Face was keeping an eye on the one called Bluebell. He followed her and took her hand as they walked out into the darkness.

Ed and Hannibal were the last to leave the kitchen, looking at each other for a moment until Hannibal realised Ed was waiting for him to leave first. Bowing to the man's right to be the last to leave, Hannibal walked out into the cool night air and Ed followed. He locked the door and looped the bunch of keys onto his belt. Non-patriarchal, my ass, Hannibal thought.

"Take your position, Ed."

"Right. John, if this doesn't work -"

"Then I guess you get to say 'I told you so'."

Ed shook his head. "I was going to say, thanks for trying anyway. Though I still don't know why you are."

It probably was a crazy thing to do, Hannibal thought. If the cops got involved, or if the team were recognised, then Lynch would be on his way up here and they'd undo everything they'd achieved over the last few weeks. But Face had asked them. Nothing more needed really. Hannibal shrugged.

"Needs doing."

~o~

Outside in the yard, the group took their positions. They hid around the edges of the yard, beside the barns, concealed by barrels and milk churns and any other bit of cover they found.

Face waited, watching the yard. A brief glimpse of blond hair not far from him made him frown. Jeffrey. Face had to keep a close eye on that guy. Didn't trust him as far as he could throw him. He knows, Face felt sure. He knows. But will he do anything about it? And risk his position here? Who wouldn't, for that ten thousand dollar reward? How deep were Jeffrey's roots here? Face turned to Bluebell, sitting at his side and humming some folksy sounding tune.

"How long has that guy Jeffrey been living here?"

"Jeffrey? About four months, I think."

Damn, not long. And Face hadn't seen him hanging out with any one of the women in particular, so he didn't have that to anchor him here either.

"He probably won't stay very long," Bluebell went on, starting to braid a strand of her hair. "I've seen a few like him come and go. Funny though, because whenever the twins are away, he tries to take charge. I think he's used to telling people what to do."

Damn, damn, damn. Probably a rich boy on a mission to piss off daddy and prove he doesn't need the old man's money. And he especially doesn't need it if he has ten thousand dollars of his own stashed away. Really going to have to watch that guy, Face thought, and then get the hell out of here as soon as this is done. He planned to anyway of course. He hadn't changed his mind about that. He glanced at Bluebell again and got a smile in return. Whatever the temptations here, he had to move on.

Bluebell started humming again, but then stopped abruptly. Face saw the lights, a dim glow down the road to the farm, and he heard the distant roar of engines. Face gave a bulletin from the Department of the Patently Obvious.

"They're coming."

~o~

They came. A few cars and pick-up trucks swept into the yard, horns honking, and men hanging out of the windows and yelling. About fifteen men, Hannibal estimated as they stopped the vehicles and jumped out. One had a shotgun and fired a barrel into the air, causing his friends to laugh uproariously. Hannibal spotted a few of them waving handguns around.

Drunken fools who waved deadly weapons around to show off really steamed Hannibal. A gun demanded respect. Anything that could kill or maim in a split second demanded respect. Hannibal had seen enough men, women and children shot, either deliberately or accidentally, to develop an enormous amount of respect for guns. He was going to take the weapons from these idiots and drop them into a big hole.

They walked towards the house. One threw a bottle, which shattered against a tightly locked shutter. Just a few steps more, Hannibal thought. He hoped the group stayed together, hoped they were too drunk to react fast when it started, hoped his teams were ready to move. Hoped, hoped, hoped.

Now! The attackers, some staggering already, walked onto what looked like just another area of the yard. But in the moonlight they couldn't see that the dirt there was loose, not hard-packed. That it lay in a thin layer over a flimsy covering made of old bed sheets and curtains scrounged from the house.

They dropped and slid down a slope. The slope was one of the wooden sides of the trailer Hannibal had found in the barn. The trailer that now stood hidden in a pit. The thugs tumbled onto the bed of the trailer, dragging the sheets with them. Over their confused yelling and cursing, Hannibal's shout rang across the yard.

"Net team! Now!"

People emerged from the dark on either side of the yard. Four of them, two each side of the yard, grabbed ropes that were covered with dirt and, dragging on them, ran past the pit. As they ran, the ground between the pit and the house seemed to rise, as dirt fell away from the netting that was laid out there.

Quick, Hannibal thought. Fast, before any of them stands up. Get it over them.

They hauled the net over the top of the pit and trailer. It was actually folding back on itself, the men on the trailer were lying on half of the net already. Hannibal's teams just had to close the net over them, trap them. Fred and several of the men jumped into the front of the pit and slammed the side of the trailer up. The people on the ropes dropped the net, and Fred's team pulled it tight over the edge of the trailer. They started looping the net over a row of nails BA and his assistants had earlier driven in and then bent down, securing the net over the hinged side of the trailer.

Get the guns. That was the A-Team's part of the mission. At the edge of the pit, Hannibal yelled at the prisoners in his most terrifying voice.

"Weapons! Hand them over! Now!

Few men could disobey that voice. Arms thrust through the net, holding guns. Face and BA jumped down onto the trailer and walked across the struggling mass of protesting men whose every movement just tangled them tighter. They snatched weapons from hands eager to surrender them. One man needed a little more persuasion though, and Face punched him when he pointed a handgun, rather than handing it over. Even as his left hand connected with the guy's chin, Face's right snatched away the pistol.

Fred's team finished securing the net and he gave Hannibal a thumb's up. Their catch squirmed in the net, like freshly landed fish, and directed threats and curses at the team and the commune. But they were well and truly caught. They could kick and scream all they liked, but it was over.

Face and BA collected six guns in all, the shotgun and five handguns and dumped them all at the feet of Ed, who stood on the edge of the pit. Jeffrey appeared beside him and Hannibal tensed for a moment as the kid picked up the shotgun. But Jeffrey unloaded the gun with an efficiency that suggested he knew what he was doing. He picked up a pistol, ejected the clip into a bag Ed held open for him and unloaded the chamber. Satisfied that was handled, Hannibal turned back to the pit.

Face and BA had stopped walking over the men and now stood near the edges of the trailer. Looking at them, Hannibal saw only calm expressions. Walk in the park for them. Piece of cake. Most of the commune members on the other hand were a mix of excited, scared and even thrilled. Hannibal looked at Ed, who held the empty shotgun in his hands. His face was serious and pale. Had it been too violent for him? How close to the edge did Hannibal sail? Only one punch thrown by the team; seemed pretty non-violent to Hannibal. Of course, his perspective could be a little skewed.

"Anyone hurt?" Hannibal shouted. This produced a fresh barrage of threats and curses from the prisoners. Since they had the energy to yell like that, Hannibal decided none of them could be hurt too bad. None of Hannibal's people answered yes either. Nice. "Okay, we're not finished yet, folks," Hannibal called. "Let's go dump this garbage a long way off."

The commune members cheered, caught up in the adrenaline rush. All the same, Hannibal thought. Crew cuts and battledress, or long hair and tie-dye; you put men in a fight and they're all the same underneath. Fred's team climbed out of the pit, grinning. Hannibal saw Ed, walking away, still carrying the shotgun and the bag full of pistols and ammo. Hannibal caught up to him.

"Where you off to, Ed?"

"I'm going to put these somewhere safe." Ed's grim look changed to a smile. "I think the safest place might be the septic tank. The owners are quite welcome to come back and claim them later."

"Sounds good to me," Hannibal agreed, smirking. That would do as the big hole Hannibal wanted to drop the weapons in. He let Ed go and turned back to the others.

Time for phase two.