Greg took a careful sip of his still too hot coffee and rubbed his eyes under his glasses. It would only be a matter of time before the others stumbled down and he wasn’t sure if he should dread human contact or welcome the fact that Fenny, at least, was sure to feel worse than him.

Glancing up at the sound of a grunt, he saw Gina and Paul stumble into the room. Paul looked his standard hungover, grumpy self as he flopped into a chair next to Greg with a noise that was probably best to take as a greeting.

“Morning,” Greg murmured into his coffee as Gina situated herself next to Paul. She looked a bit pink around the eyes but had obviously managed to avoid the gnawing pain of a hangover.

“Heard from the Sherwoods yet?” Gina asked, looking around for someone to take breakfast orders.

“I think Fenny may have died,” Greg shrugged. “And if she hasn’t, she’s probably killing Brad. I tried ordering a pot of tea for you guys, but I think we’re being ignored after our display last night.”

“God, don’t remind me,” Gina groaned as she tried flagging down any random employee.

“You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about,” Paul soothed as he massaged his temples. “You were brilliant.”

“Fenny, on the other hand,” Greg mused, but was cut off as Gina let out a shrill whistle at a passing aproned man who reluctantly took her order for five breakfasts, a pot of tea, another coffee and a glass of water. He wandered off, leaving her to her own headache and Paul and Greg leaning back in their chairs looking significantly groggy.

Their breakfasts arrived surprisingly quickly, and just as Gina was considering going up and dragging Brad and Fenny out of bed, a pained squeal and a startled ‘oof’ came from the direction of their rooms. Fenny appeared scowling at the floor and looking a very intriguing shade of green, Brad a few steps behind cradling his arm and looking sheepish.

“Morning,” Greg mumbled. Fenny let out a grunt and flumped in the seat next to him, holding her head in her hands. Brad tried to sit down but a man balancing five plates got between him and the chair and began handing out breakfasts.

“I can’t even look at that food,” Fenny mumbled, pressing her fingers to her eyes.

“You really should Fen, it’ll help,” Gina said.

“What is it with you Australians and your greasy hangover cures?” Brad mused as he finally got himself settled. “In the US we just drink strong black coffee and down a handful of aspirin.”

“It works, doesn’t it?” Gina countered, chomping on a piece of bacon.

“Fen?” Paul prompted, noticing she was looking a bit more vacant than usual as Brad dove into his eggs.

“What does alcohol poisoning feel like?”

“It can’t be as bad as all that,” Gina chided. “I mean I expect whining from the men because, well, because they’re men, but—”

“I’m never talking to you again,” Fenny announced, scowling at Gina before dropping her head heavily to the table. “Greg, I’m gonna tell your wife that you’ve been a very, very bad boy. And Paul, I hate you with a passion but I honestly can’t think of an appropriate punishment for a man who’s enjoyed the life you’ve lived, which irritates me even more.”

“What about him?” Paul asked, nodding towards Brad even though she was still face down on the table.

“I’ve already promised castration when we get home.”

“Why wait?” Greg asked, passing a partially worthwhile knife across the table.

Fenny glanced up, caught sight of breakfast and dropped her head again, smacking her forehead against the edge of the table. “I figured I’d give him to Amy should we run into her again, save me the effort.”

“Which reminds me, I’ve been thinking,” Gina chirped.

“Oh god.”

“What was that, Speccy?” she demanded.

Greg looked up from his coffee with an easy smile. “Nothing pumpkin, go ahead and enlighten us with your pearls of wisdom.”

“I was thinking we should go back and check on Dan. Especially if Amy’s so—intimate—with the guy he’s supposed to be imitating, they might catch on.”

“I doubt it,” Greg mused, “Amy’s about as smart as a bag of old doorknobs.”

“We’ll only get hurt again if we go back,” Paul pouted.

“Danny’ll only get hurt if we leave him,” Gina argued.

“I don’t mind,” Brad shrugged. “Ow,” he pouted, looking down at Fenny who, head still down, had obviously given him a thwack somewhere under the table for his remark.

“Right, so that’s settled then, we’ll leave after breakfast,” Gina chirped, finishing a piece of toast.

“Settled?” Paul asked. “Was there a vote?”

“And it’s not like they’ll be expecting us to just show up again,” Gina added, ignoring him. “We’ll have the element of surprise.”

“Was I out of the room or something?” Paul continued.

“We’re going to die, aren’t we?” Greg asked.

“God I hope so,” Fenny groaned as she wrenched her eyes closed and munched valiantly on a piece of bacon.

“It was somewhere around here, wasn’t it?” Gina asked, looking around the rather monotonous scenery. “Who was navigating from Amy’s to Coward Springs?”

“Brad,” Paul said, reaching back to thrust the map at him.

“Don’t ask me where we’re going, I was more concerned with getting away from the homicidal maniacs than remembering where they were to get back to them,” Brad whined.

“It’s got to be somewhere,” Gina grumbled, driving a bit faster.

“Astonishing grasp of physics you’ve got there pumpkin,” Greg mumbled. “Could you get a grasp on your wife, Sherwood, I don’t want her drooling on me.”

Brad reached over and grabbed Fenny by the shoulders, guiding her away from Greg and letting her sleeping form settle against his own side. He slid her glasses off and tucked them away for safe keeping. “What are we doing when we get there?” Brad asked.

“You mean what do we do now?” Paul amended, pointing to the painfully familiar old house.

Gina slowed down and parked the car behind some trees at the back of the house, the closest to hiding as she figured they would get. “We do what we do best. We sneak around, find what we need, and then run away.”

“Well, there’s a fool-proof plan if I ever heard one,” Greg nodded.

“Hey man, don’t knock it, it works,” Paul countered.

“Until someone gets kidnapped,” Brad sighed.

“What do we do with sleeping beauty here?” Paul asked as Gina and Greg slid out of the car.

“If we bring her with us she’ll probably surrender us to Amy,” Greg pointed out.

“And if we leave her here she could wake up and drive off with the car as punishment,” Brad mused.

“She’s not going to wake up,” Gina declared. “If we leave her here she can’t get anybody into any trouble.”

Brad nodded and reluctantly settled Fenny against the seat before unbuckling his seat belt and getting out of the car to join the other around the other side, where Paul was arranging Troy in the seat next to Fenny. “This is where we split up, right?” he asked as he shut the car door carefully.

“Right,” Gina nodded, “you and I can go in through the back, Greg and Brad, you get the front.”

They nodded at each other and headed off in separate directions.

“What are we looking for exactly?” Brad whispered as he and Greg wandered up towards the front door.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m looking for ways not to die.” They crouched under a window, each peeking up through a corner. The large front room was empty, and the house seemed oddly quiet. “It’s a trap isn’t it?”

“Yeah, well, what can you do,” Brad sighed and continued creeping around to the front door, Greg following closely, casting furtive glances over his shoulder. They made it to the front porch, and Brad slowly turned the doorknob. The door opened with only a slight creak of hinges, and they peeked their heads inside. Nothing.

“You go on upstairs, I’ll stay down here and wait.”

“Me go upstairs, why don’t you go?” Brad hissed.

“It was my idea,” Greg sneered.

Brad pouted. “Let’s shoot fingers for it,” he suggested.

“Just go,” Greg snapped, trying to be quiet, and shoved Brad by the shoulder. Looking none too pleased, Brad gave up arguing and cautiously mounted the stairs. Feeling needlessly smug, Greg leaned against the banister, glancing up to make sure Brad hadn’t chickened out and stopped halfway up the stairs. He nodded to himself as he heard faint footsteps immediately overhead. “Good man.”

Greg shuffled across the room, trying to find something that might make a good makeshift weapon if need be. Upon noticing the fireplace, he hurried over and perused the collection of heavy iron fire-tending equipment. “Lose something?”

Greg didn’t even bother turning around to face the voice, instead lowered his head with a strangled, “Oh shit,” before a heavy hand connected with the back of his skull and he collapsed in a pile on the hearth.

“What’s that noise?” Gina whispered, pausing as they crept around to the back door and turning her head towards the house where she heard what sounded like something dragging across the floor. It didn’t sound good, whatever it was.

Paul swallowed hard and nodded. “You stay here,” he commanded.

“What? No, I’m coming with you,” Gina argued.

“Just let me get inside, make sure it’s safe and then you can come with me.”

“Paul…”

“Please Genie,” he said firmly, giving her a brief pleading look that she couldn’t argue with, not with so much adrenaline pumping through her brain.

“Take the scalpel,” she sighed, pulling it from her pocket. “You’ve got two minutes before I come find you.”

Paul smiled his thanks and continued creeping up ahead, around a corner of the house as she crouched down on the ground, keeping a close eye on the nearest window. Holding her breath to listen, Gina heard the faint squeak of door hinges, and closed her eyes, though she wasn’t sure why. Seconds later the door slammed shut and she jumped up to get a better look through the window to try to see something, then immediately wished she hadn’t.

Paul was slammed hard against a wall by a heavy, knocking the wind out of him. The heavy wasted no time giving him a swift punch to the abdomen and a fist to the jaw. “Always with the spleen,” Paul choked out as he tried to inconspicuously work the scalpel into his pocket while doubled over in pain. He knew the tiny blade wouldn’t do any damage to the abusive gorilla, and he didn’t need the feeble weapon wielded against him in retaliation.

“Always with the mouth,” the heavy growled, gave him another punch in the stomach, and shoved him out of the room.

“What the hell was—” Brad gasped at the sounds from downstairs hurried back down the hall to investigate. “Oh, hi,” he gasped as he turned to go down the stairs and found himself face to face with a very large mustachioed man.

“Y’know, I thought y’all was pretty smart diggin’ outta that there cellar,” the heavy drawled in a very thick Southern accent, “but you’re a stupid batch of bastards to come back.”

“Yeah, that’s us,” Brad nodded, glancing around for a means of escape or something pointy he could brandish. “Stupid batch of—” He reached out to the bookcase next to him to grab a heavy bottle half filled with something. “—bastards,” he yelped, swinging the bottle over his head and hurling himself at the heavy. He tried to sidestep Brad, and only succeeded in diverting the blow of the bottle to his shoulder. The glass shattered and Brad tumbled down the stairs, sliding to a stop at the first landing as his head connected with the wall with an unpleasant thud.

“Yup,” the heavy nodded as he went down to collect the groaning, bleeding man, “stupid son of a bitch.”

Gina hurried around the house, trying to find a window where she could see what was going on. She couldn’t hear anything and was almost certain that someone was going to sneak up behind her, but she had to see what had happened to the others.

Peeking up into what revealed itself to be the kitchen window, Gina was finally able to see something. Amy and Otto were leaning against the sink; Greg was sprawled out across the table obviously unconscious; Brad was slumped in a chair looking damp and bloodied with his arms held securely behind the chair by an equally damp heavy; Paul, already beginning to break out in bruises and his lip open and bleeding, was restrained against a cabinet door by two heavies leaning heavily on his shoulders; Danny was nowhere in sight.

“What do we do with them now?” Paul’s heavy asked.

“Back in the basement they go,” Amy chirped.

“But they already—” Otto began.

“Sean can look after them,” she interrupted, “the poor guy’s been feeling so helpless. Besides, he’s not going to let them get him again. Give him a gun and he’ll be fine.”

Otto scowled at his sister but decided arguing with her wasn’t worth it. “Where’s the others?” he demanded gruffly, changing the subject and glaring at Brad and Paul in turn. Gina, watching from the window, crouched down to the ground and decided to just listen.

“Hungover,” Paul managed through heavy breaths. “Left them at the hotel in Coober Peedy.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” Amy hissed.

“Do you want me to answer that?” Paul countered.

Amy nodded to two of the heavies and they left the room.

“Crap,” Gina hissed and took off running.

“I hate your wife,” Brad announced sullenly as he and Paul were shuffled down the basement stairs. “Gina and her stupid ideas.”

“If it weren’t for my wife and her stupid ideas, we’d all be dead several times over,” Paul countered. “Besides, I hate your wife too.”

“Why?”

“Just out of principle.”

Two heavies dropped Greg on the floor, covering the message to Otto they’d left earlier.

“You guys just sit pretty for a while,” Otto commanded. “We’ll get your girls for you, don’t you worry about that. If you don’t move and just shut the fuck up for once, I might kill you quick when the time comes.”

“Such benevolence,” Paul sneered, “how can we resist an invitation like that.”

“Sean’s watching you,” Amy pointed out, gesturing to the hole they’d made, “so don’t try anything foolish.

“You any good at I Spy, Sean?” Brad asked as he settled on the floor, trying to find a way to rest his head against the wall that didn’t hurt.

“Idiots,” Amy grumbled. “You’ll be ok, won’t you Sean?” The heavy nodded his covered head and waved the gun to prove his point. Amy smiled up at him. “Right, let’s get out of here, guys,” she ordered and Otto and her other heavy headed back up the stairs, locking the door behind them.

Paul tried to get comfortable but gave up and decided to just lay back on the floor and rest his perpetually abused muscles. The front door slammed closed and a car engine fired up. “What the fuck do you guys think you’re doing?” Danny hissed, pulling off his balaclava.

“Trying to get you out of here, man,” Brad grunted.

“And look what happened to you,” Danny gasped. “What did happen to you?”

“A large man with a glandular problem tried to remove my jaw,” Paul pouted.

Brad looked at the ground between his legs. “I fell down the stairs.”

“And Proops?” Danny asked.

“Dunno,” Brad shrugged, glancing over at Greg’s still form.

“Where’s Gina and Fen?”

“I had her wait for me outside,” Paul sighed, “she’s probably a couple miles away by now.”

“Thank god,” Danny sighed. “And Fen?”

“Kinda hungover,” Brad mumbled, “we left her in the car.”

“Jesus, I leave you people alone for a day or two and look what happens,” Danny chuckled, ignoring the glares from Paul and Brad.

“Huh, what, where’re we—uh…” Fenny managed as the sudden roar of the engine and jolt of a quick acceleration startled her awake. She collapsed back against the seat and took inventory. Her head still throbbed but she no longer felt as if her body were going to collapse upon itself. Opening eyes which refused to focus anywhere near normally, she managed to find her glasses hanging from the pocket behind the driver’s seat, slipped them on, and found herself in the SUV with Gina driving a bit anxiously. “Did I sleep through the daring rescue mission?”

“Well, yes you slept through it, but the guys have been caught, so it wasn’t much of a rescue mission, it was more of a get-recaptured mission.”

“Good,” Fenny murmured, closing her eyes and sprawling out across the back seat, holding Troy close. “Serves ‘em right, I hope they hurt.”