Dogpatch - Chapter 3
The Dogpatch
Fandom - The A-Team
Disclaimer - I do not own the A-Team characters. I do not make any money off this piece of fiction; this is strictly for my amusement.
Pairing - H-BAMF
Rating - R/NC17
Summary - AU - First Lieutenant Templeton Peck finds himself in a pickle. He’s the only officer in the POW camp, nicknamed by the American’s Dogpatch - which is run by the most famous Traitor Hannibal Smith and his crew. It’s not easy to plan an escape and to keep this certain Colonel off your back, literally and figuratively.
Historical Notes- Dogpatch is a real POW camp that is based near the China-Vietnamese boarder. It’s a good place because at the time the people who ran the camp built it there because they knew that American policy wasn’t going to conduct any operations in that area. So, it fits my AU story line quite perfectly.
ANOTHER NOTE - Vietnamese take their names seriously. Tuan = Bright and Tu’ = Star. So Bright Star.
Chapter 3 - Interrogation Techniques
General Morrison sat behind a simple oak desk. His computer monitor was blank and he had a grim, steely expression on his face. What it hid from passerbies was up the imagination. His once brown hair and had grown grey but he filled out his uniform quite impressively.
Henry Hendrickson couldn’t keep the smug smirk off his face. This was his chance to show the Brass how good he was at his job. He knew he wouldn’t much this up. It was a simple get-in-and-get-out mission.
“Camp Waterloo is a new POW camp and I want to know where it is for certain,” Morrison grumped from his chair. Hendrickson nodded solemnly.
“You and Peck here need to get as close as you can,” Morrison continued, “Peck is a good marksman, if someone needs to be taken out for your positions to be safe, than he needs to pull the trigger,”
This surprised Hendrickson. “What do we need a sharpshooter for?”
“The VC’s General Tuan Tu’ is going to spend time in the camp regrouping,” Morrison picked up a pen and began to tap it unthinkingly against the desk top. “He has five guards with him who are very well trained in combat, if you get the chance to kill him…take it,”
“Sir,” Templeton licked his lips, “how is it that he doesn’t have the A-Team protecting him? Is our intelligence on the relationship between them wrong?” he asked.
“No. They were protecting him, but now they are out of the picture. Either they figure that their job is done, or he got pissed off at Hannibal. He won’t kill them, his boss won’t let him. And that’s another thing, you need to keep away from Dogpatch!” he glared at the two Officers.
“I won’t be able to rescue anyone from that camp,” he warned.
Templeton looked up into Hannibal’s angry blue eyes. He knew he could only count on himself to get out of this mess in one piece, he’d have bruises and cuts, but that was all right.
“It was nothing important,” Templeton said, trying to keep his voice steady, trying to fight down the fear, “a recon mission, it went wrong,” he also had to keep the despising of Hendrickson from showing. He didn’t want to give Hannibal anything to use against them. Even if he disliked the Captain - it was because he was spoilt, he never had to work to gain anything. Templeton had worked hard, fought hard, for all he had in this world.
“What were you supposed to recon?” Hannibal asked. He gently tapped the crop against the palm of his hand.
The trick to lying is to make sure that there is a bit of truth in it, and that you believe the bullshit you’re selling someone.
“Waterloo, but the Brass weren’t sure it existed,” he shrugged. The chains that kept him slightly hobbled rattled as he shifted position. His knees hurt from bedding into the dirt all day.
“I see,” there was more to that statement that met the eye and Templeton figured that Hannibal knew about the camp as well. He didn’t think General Tuan Tu’ was smart enough to keep Hannibal in the dark. Someone must have bragged about the new camp.
“What else did he say to you?” Hannibal asked.
“Nothing much, only that we weren’t to get too close and get ourselves captured,” he shrugged and the chains rattled.
Hannibal rolled his eyes; “as if that has to be said,”
“Look, sir, I am not sure what you want from me,” Templeton sighed. “I don’t know what Hendrickson - erm, that is - Captain Hendrickson has been telling you, and I know you won’t believe me…but…he’s wrong,” Templeton tried. His only move was to be as truthful with Hannibal as possible without giving him information he didn’t know.
“He told me a lot of things,” Hannibal replied smoothly. He paced to his desk and pulled out a cigar. He lit it. Templeton waited a beat.
“He told you what he wanted you to know,” he corrected.
“And aren’t you doing the same thing?” Hannibal shot back; he had a thin smile on his face.
“Sir, I can only tell you what won’t get me hung for traitor if I ever report in,” and that was the truth plain and simple.
“And Hendrickson…?” Hannibal cooed slightly.
“He’ll tell a whore anything she wants to know if he’s smashed enough, or a turtle if he’s so far drunk he mistakes it for a human,” Templeton snorted.
“That isn’t a very nice thing to say about your Officer,” Hannibal tapped some ash from the end of his cigar, it floated in the air briefly between them.
Templeton looked up at the ceiling in thought for a few moments before replying; “I’m not feeling very….congenial towards him at the moment,”
“No, I suppose not,” Hannibal sat down on the edge of his desk. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation this morning,”
“Oh that…was a mistake,”
“Not a very good move on Hendrickson’s part,”
“Sir, won’t you hit me a few times before I see him, just so he thinks you believe him? It’d make my life easier,” Templeton asked with a frown.
“Wait…” Hannibal blinked at him, “you want me to hit you?”
“Yes sir,” he nodded.
“But you all ready have a prominent bruise,” Hannibal pointed out.
“Now that you mention it,” he smiled a little, “my face does hurt, I hadn’t noticed it before,”
Hannibal chuckled. Then he frowned.
“Hendrickson, is he really that bad?”
“Ah…yeah!” Templeton gave Hannibal his best smile, if he’d been able to brighten his teeth, he was sure he’d send a gleam in the old man’s direction.
“This should be come interesting,” Hannibal said as he picked up the crop.
“Don’t hold back, okay?”
“Son, I like you,” Hannibal walked towards him. “Enough to actually care about where I spank you,” he grinned as Templeton’s ice blue eye’s went wide.
“Spank me?” he stuttered.
Hannibal dragged Templeton to his desk, he sat down in his chair and had Templeton’s pants down and the young man bent over his lap in a few short minutes. The crop came down, hard across both cheeks. Templeton gripped the leg of the chair and did his best not to shout, no matter how hard it hurt. He’d never heard of Prisoner’s being spanked. Maybe Hannibal really did like him and maybe that was a bad thing. Morrison never said what Hannibal did when he liked a person.
“There,” Hannibal said when he was finished. Templeton had lost count at thirty. Hannibal helped with pull his pants up and re-fasten the belt.
“Gee, thanks,” he tried for sarcasm.
“Nice, huh?” Hannibal waggled his eyebrows and Templeton nodded. Oh yeah, nice. He couldn’t wait till Hendrickson found out. And it wouldn’t take long since sitting down was no longer an option for him.
0-0-0
He and Hendrickson were cautiously warned that if they fought again they’d be whipped till their back bled. Hendrickson looked worse for wear though. The Box had done nothing for his complexion, he was ashen grey and looked as if just standing was hard for him. Templeton helped him to a cool spot along the fence and fetched him a tin cup of water from a bucket that was put out for their use. It was cool and clean.
Hendrickson drank two cups before he could speak; “what’d he do to you?”
“Made me work in the potato fields,” Templeton replied. It was late afternoon and evening was coming on fast. It’d be cool and he was thankful. He refused to think about the cold in the middle of the night. Now was not the time to look a gift horse in the mouth.
“What’d he do to you in the hut, you imbecile?” Hendrickson hissed through clenched teeth.
“Nothing…much…” Templeton stepped back because being in arms length of the man was dangerous.
“What did he do…and it’s an order this time, Lieutenant!” he didn’t yell. Hannibal, BA and Murdock were not far off watching them over cups of wine.
“He…umm…” and he felt his face heat up. He knew Hendrickson would find out, but telling him straight out was just so…embarrassing. He had though Hannibal would whip his back or give his bruise and bruise. Not spank him like a child.
“He did hit you,” Hendrickson interrupted, “I heard the strikes. Fifty, he gave you fifty,”
“Wow, and here I thought it went fast, I guess it took more time than I thought,” Templeton ran a hand through his hair and sighed.
Hendrickson was on his feet and almost tearing clothing off Templeton; “HEY!”
“What did he do!?” and this time he did yell.
“He spanked me, happy now? Oh my good gravy!” he spat angrily.
Hendrickson threw Templeton’s shirt at him. He quickly donned it. “Only you can make something so womanly sound like the worst curse on earth,” he marveled.
“Pft, you never heard Sister Margaret curse then,” Templeton shot back. They might have their problems but maybe Hendrickson was willing to work with him this time. Maybe they could get out alive if they decided to put their differences aside.
Templeton glanced up, Hannibal was gone and BA and Murdock was no where to be seen either. Not that he should count them alone.
“Okay, so what’s the plan, if you have anything?” Templeton asked.
“We’ll dig our way out,”
“That simple, huh?” he asked.
Hendrickson shrugged; “I’ve been in the box for two days, it gave me a lot of thinking to do,”
“Yeah, and did anything we were told about Hannibal stick in your head?”
“Watch your tone Lieutenant,” Hendrickson snapped.
“Sorry, sir…” he sighed.
“Look, Peck, I don’t like this much either,”
“Out of the two of us, I think you’re gonna get us killed,” Templeton interrupted, “Hannibal isn’t the sort of man to take anyone’s bullshit lies, we can’t tell him anything that’ll get us hung for traitors once we report in, all I can suggest is tell him what he all ready knows,” he toed the dirt with his boot.
“I know,” Hendrickson nodded.
“What did you tell him?” Templeton surged forward, “what did you tell him I knew?”
“What are you talking about?” Hendrickson tried for innocent.
It didn’t work.
“I know what sort of a filthy liar you are, Hendrickson!” his whisper could have been a roar the ferocity of his sudden anger coming to the surface.
Hendrickson looked scared, “I…I told him about Tuan Tu’,”
And that was the end of that.
“Shit,” he muttered.
“What did you tell him?” Hendrickson was on his feet.
“Waterloo,”
“Double shit,” he brought a hand to his chin.
“Between the two of us, we could be counted as traitors,” Hendrickson sighed.
“I think he all ready knew, he had to have known about Waterloo. He and his men had been protecting Tuan Tu’ after all,” Templeton figured.
“So, neither of us told him anything he didn’t all ready know,” Hendrickson looked relieved.
“I just don’t want to play games here, Captain, he shouldn’t get ahead of ourselves here, Hannibal is cunning, he knows our moves before we make them and I know he’s listening into this conversation as we speak,” he took a look around, he wouldn’t say he was paranoid - not counting this one time.
“Don’t worry, I’ll get you back home,” Hendrickson promised.
“Lame!” Templeton rolled his eyes, “you’ll save your own butt before you’d save mine,” he deadpanned.
Hendrickson snorted, but didn’t hide a small, prideful smile; “and, what is your point?”
“My point is that if you had a way you’d pay them off to let you go,” Templeton crossed his arms.
“But he likes you!” Hendrickson snickered, “he did spank you so he either sees you as a long lost son he has to raise to make up for something, or as a Lover he needs to protect,” he joked, but Templeton didn’t laugh.
He found it frightfully ironic.
“I hope you get the runs,” Templeton muttered.
Hendrickson couldn’t stop snickering.
0-0-0
In what seemed like hours later, Murdock brought them their dinner. He gave Templeton a large smile as he set the tray down. Then he left them and all was quiet.
“Fried fish, bread with butter and water,” Hendrickson said and deftly stole Templeton’s fish.
“Hey!” was all he said as he quickly took the rest off to a corner he felt safe in, “that’s not very nice, stealing from a fellow prisoner,” he sniffed.
“Oh shut up,” Hendrickson tore into his food, “they didn’t give me lunch,”
“I guess you shouldn’t have started that fight this morning then,” Templeton shot back, “has it ever occurred to you that maybe if you followed the rules that life wouldn’t be so hard?”
“Oh…well…” Hendrickson glared.
“Right, probably not,” Templeton rolled his eyes. He ate his bread slowly. This was all he’d be getting before breakfast in the morning and he had to make the most of it.
The stars were shinning above them when BA came to light the lanterns. He glared at Hendrickson who watched far too intently; “Don’t try anything smart,” BA pointed to Hendrickson, “or you get a night in the box, maggot,” he growled.
Hendrickson gave a sharp look at Templeton who shook his head slightly.
“I don’t think so,” and he had a hand through the gate, trying to snap the dark man’s neck. Only, Hendrickson’s hands were too small and BA was far too strong. There was a sharp break and then a howl as Hendrickson stumbled back. His arm was at a very odd angle.
Hannibal and Murdock came running from a hut and Templeton made it to Hendrickson side. He took one look and then set the arm right. The break had to heal cleanly otherwise he’d have to re-break the arm. And that wouldn’t do in this situation.
“Really?” Templeton glared as he folded Hendrickson’s arm to the man’s side, “you just had to try it?”
He was hauled away and Murdock splinted the arm; and then, without a word, dragged Hendrickson back to the Box.
“I think it’s time for bed,” Hannibal said when Murdock double locked the box. Three gazes came to set on him and he raised his hands in the international sign of “I give up!”
0-0-0
His small cage had been set up in Hannibal’s quarters. The Colonel was in bed with his pistol under his pillow. Templeton didn’t dare move. He didn’t want to disturb Hannibal’s rest.
It was late when he finally felt himself slipping off into dream land. At least Hannibal was a fair man. He knew what Hendrickson was all about.