Overkill

Overkill. That's what it was. The A-Team to deal with this pathetic bunch of amateurs? These guys couldn't terrorize Toy Town. It was like calling in an air-strike to deal with rouge trick-or-treaters.

The wannabe bad guys had shown up right after breakfast and within minutes were lying groaning in the dirt, battered and defeated. BA hadn't even joined in the fight. He'd looked at their opponents, sneered a bit and said the rest of the team could do with a little exercise and he had more important things to do. Like empty the ashtrays in the van.

Now Hannibal stood there enjoying a cigar, supervising the punks loading their crappy station wagon with all their crappy junk.

Definite overkill. The team would be back in LA for dinner.

"Who are you anyway, mister, erm, sir?"

Hannibal grinned.

"Pal, I'm the sledgehammer and you're the nut."

end