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Trouble, Always

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Indy wasn't quite convinced two pistols beat a bullwhip, no matter how fast the other man in the stolen Nazi uniform had come up with them. It had to be stolen; it fit the tall man about as well as Indy's did.

"Don't make me fight you; it might get their attention," Indy said, gambling this was another infiltrator. "Are you after the Hammer of Ptah?"

"Sort of. More interested in getting back the girl with it," the man said. "Rick O'Connell."

"Indiana Jones. You get the girl, and I'll get the Hammer."

Rick shrugged, put his guns away. "Have a friend wandering around here who might just beat us both there... tattoos, attitude, and always in the middle of..."

The sound of a fight down the hall confirmed the words, as Indy just shook his head. "Trouble?"

"Yep." Both men took off toward the sound, an alliance sealed by mutual accord.