"Seriously, what the hell are we even doing here?" I said, snapping the glowstick, which filled the room with a low green glimmer. It just looked like a typical celebrity house, all glass and white plaster, very modern. There were a few posters of Mr T posing with the cast of the A-team, both old and new. The lights were off, and it was a cloudy night. Nothing good, in my experience, happened on a cloudy night.

"Mr. T. We are here because of Mister T." Brendon said, cocking his MP5. I didn't even know where he got it, and I had no idea if he was going to use it or not. He was in a ski mask and black kevlar. I was dressed similarly, but I didn't have a gun.

"Dude, look, can we just leave? You can just meet him in a convention or something! Breaking into his house is really dumb." I said, trying to sound calm but my frustration was leaking through. I hoped he wouldn't shot me. "Let's just go home before someone calls the cops!"

Brendon ignored me. He walked up to a plastic, off-white door with a silver handle, in keeping with the aesthetic. He opened it, and I flinched as it made an audible, drawn-out creak. I'm gonna get caught. I'm going to be arrested for breaking and entering, because Brendon can't do anything without complicating things, I thought, my whole body shaking. I could feel a layer of sweat on my skin, trapped in the places where kevlar covered me.

He went into the darkness. I waited. There was murmuring from within the room, nothing I could understand. There was a sudden, un-mister T like "Oh God, please don't kill me!" squeal of terror from what I assumed to be Mister T, and then more muttering.

Five minutes later, Brendon walked out with an autographed picture of Mr T and a big grin.

"Guess what I got!" He said, like an excited little kid.

"Great, great." I smiled, despite my mind and body yelling at me to punch him in the face, and followed him out of the house. We got in the white van we had parked outside, and drove home.

I had no explanation for my girlfriend as to why I was dressed up like I was in the IRA, I was too tired. I passed out on the couch before she could even yell at me. My last thought was "I hate Brendon", before sleep consumed my tired mind.

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