The air shimmered with heat, blurring contours and fading everything in sight. There was no wind to raise the sand from the desert floor, and yet powdery sand managed to pervade the dry air. Dusty, G.I. Joe desert survivalist, was at his wit's end. He and his teammate had come to Egypt to find out about Cobra's latest threat, and after nearly a week combing the Libyan Desert, they hadn't seen a thing. Intel wasn't normally this far off; they knew there had to be something out here.

Dusty sighed and sat back down. He and Lady Jaye were resting under a small canvas shade. It was the hottest part of the day; moving on would be impossible until the sun started to sink. He observed his partner warily out of the corner of his eyes. She seemed to be doing okay in the heat. Her face was a bit red, and like him she was covered in dust and sweat. He had made sure they kept hydrated and out of the worst sun. She hadn't slowed down so far. But if he was feeling it, she must be, too—and probably worse.

He remembered the time that she had refused to back down during one of Beach Head's PT exercises. Beach had kept her late- hours past the others- running the obstacle course over and over again. Duke tried to step in, but Lady Jaye wouldn't let him. She had finally satisfied the crotchety drill sergeant and was allowed to leave; although she had walked away with her head held high, she hadn't quite made it back to her quarters before collapsing in the hallway.

Stubborn. Definitely stubborn, Dusty thought. Of course, no one on the team is likely to back down from much. I guess we're just a pack of mule-heads. He smiled, and to kill time tried to invent a sliding scale to rate the comparative stubbornness of his teammates.

Some time later he snapped awake. Had he been dreaming? He felt the ground humming underneath him and scanned the immediate area. Nothing. Lady Jaye had also fallen asleep, and was tossing restlessly. Shit. Can't believe we let our guard down like that, he berated himself. He used his binoculars to widen his scope; there was nothing in any direction but sand. What is making that noise, then? He wondered. "Jaye, you awake? Check this out."

She moaned and slowly opened her eyes. "Ugh, Dusty, what is it?" She stood shakily to join him outside the shelter.

"Don't know. You feel anyth—"

There was a huge roar, and the desert exploded around them. They were both flung to the ground and carried along by a wave of sand. It was like being in an avalanche. Sand filled their eyes, noses, ears, mouths. Dusty tried to protect his head, but it was impossible to do anything but be hurled along. He only had time to think What the hell! Sand doesn't move like this! Before he blacked out and knew no more.

Waking up was a long and painful process. Dusty's throat felt raw; his skin burned where patches had been abraded right through his clothing. He couldn't even open his eyes until he scraped at the sand coating the outside. Not that it made a difference. It was completely dark. He gave his eyes a moment to adjust, but the gloom remained the same.

At least he could tell some things about his surroundings. The floor was stone, cool and wet. He must be very deep undergound, then—not many places in a desert lack light, heat, and dryness. He sat up slowly. Other than a slight increase in the pounding in his head, the movement caused no pain. He checked for his water bottle, but found that it had been ripped from his belt.

Time to explore, he thought. Stretching his hands out carefully, he moved slowly forward. He encountered a wall almost immediately. Following it to the left, Dusty made a circuit of his surroundings. When he thought he was nearly back to the beginning, his hands encountered something other than stone. Cloth. Hair. Skin.

"Lady Jaye?" Dusty croaked. He repeated himself more loudly. Nothing. He groped blindly until he found her arm. Her pulse was weak but steady. He moved his fingers to her earlobe and pinched it, hard. Nothing. No verbal response, no pain response. Not a good sign. She was out. He sat down against the wall and waited.

As his other senses adjusted to make up for lack of sight, Dusty became aware of noises around him, seeming to come from all directions. There was a steady low keening, like an injured wild animal; the repetitive, heavy thump of something hitting stone; an occasional high-pitched scream that was choked off after a few seconds. It made him shiver. After an indeterminate time-- it was impossible to keep track—he heard new noises in the distance. A soft scraping against the stone, and something that could only be footsteps, approaching nearer. He tried to stand, and nearly fell flat on his face. He succeeded on the second attempt, but had to lean against the wall to stay upright.

The footsteps seemed to stop nearby; Dusty thought his eyes and ears were playing tricks on him. But no—there was a faint glow of light that revealed the edges of a door in his cell. And he definitely heard another door being opened nearby. It slammed shut again with a boom, making him jump. The footsteps started to recede, then stopped.

"How about some water?" Dusty screamed. He wasn't sure he could be heard through the stone, but whoever was nearby seemed to respond. The footsteps approached again. He heard a the clink of something metallic—keys?—and the door swung slowly open.

Dusty's eyes watered in the sudden bloom of light. He blinked furiously, glad at least that the last of the sand was being washed out, even if it was at the expense of his system's precious moisture. The figure bathed in light hadn't moved, except for a slight tilting of the head as it examined Dusty. "Ah. Yes, of course the Joes would send you. A lot of good it did them, though, eh?" The man laughed, and Dusty knew him immediately. Dr. Mindbender.

"Well, Joe," Mindbender continued. "I might as well show you what I'm doing, now that you're awake." He scanned Lady Jaye's form on the stone floor. "Is she dead?" He asked.

Dusty gritted his teeth. Could he get away with lying? He tried. "Yes, you bastard! And you're gonna pay for it, big time!" Whether it was the tears still streaming from his abused eyes, or just the way he said it, Mindbender seemed to believe him. The man nodded. "Too bad. I'm running an experiment just now. I haven't had any female vict-- er, volunteers yet. Oh, well. I suppose you can always… assist me."

The tone of voice made Dusty's blood run cold. No one who experienced the ministrations of this sick man ever forgot about it. He just hoped he could keep something back once the torture started.

Mindbender trained a small gun on Dusty. Yeah, like I could tackle anything tougher than the Easter Bunny right now, Dusty thought to himself, inventorying his numerous small injuries. He followed the doctor into the hallway. The other cells looked much like his, but the ones on the opposite wall had large barred windows in the doors.

Mindbender motioned Dusty to approach one of the windows. "Have a look. These pathetic troopers were given to me last week after… upsetting… Cobra Commander." He smiled evilly. "My supply never seems to run out. Of course, it doesn't take much to slip up in front of the Commander."

Mindbender kept up a running commentary as Dusty looked inside the first cell. A man in a Cobra uniform lay on the floor, unconscious. He cast a questioning glance toward Mindbender, who shrugged. "Well, I just brought him down here," the doctor responded. "There's not much to see now, but wait until he wakes up. Why don't you check the other cells?" The smile, if possible, grew even more chilling.

Dusty most certainly did NOT want to see the state of the other victims. He knew it was all part of the procedure-- getting him scared ahead of time so that he would break more easily. He stood his ground until Mindbender prodded him with the barrel of the gun.

He approached the next window. The occupant, Dusty now realized, was the source of the short, ragged screams he had heard from his own cell. It was another Cobra trooper. This man looked like he had been here longer; his clothes were ragged and his face was dirty and unshaven. The man was staring into nothing, eyes wide and unblinking. Every few moments, another scream would start and end abruptly. Dusty regarded him with horror. What was the man seeing?

"Keep going. There are two more cells to visit," Mindbender prompted.

Dusty couldn't help himself. He shuffled farther down the hallway to the next door. The low and constant animal-like wail was emanating from this cell. Dusty swallowed hard, and looked in. He gasped in shock. It was apparent from the marks, and the blood, that this man had tried to literally claw his own eyes out. "A shame, really," Mindbender commented. "He was only hooked up to the machine for six hours. I thought he'd last longer than that." Dusty stared at the Doctor, completely repulsed. "Yes, a shame," the doctor continued, "He cost me a hundred dollars in the betting pool."

Dusty lost it. "Your own men--! You are one sick piece of work! Damn you!" He stepped toward the man, fully intending to take him down in any way possible. Mindbender simply stepped back, raising the gun. But Dusty didn't care. He took another step, and Mindbender's finger started to squeeze the trigger. What saved Dusty's life was an uneven stone in the floor. He toppled forward, landing in a heap at Mindbender's feet.

The evil man simply laughed. "A bit dehydrated, hmmm? Ha! You can barely stand up! To think you dared threaten me!" Mindbender roughly hauled Dusty to his feet. "Now. Last cell." He dragged Dusty to the last door and threw him against the bars.

Dusty barely caught himself. He raised his head and gazed into the small prison. At first he couldn't see anyone. But—there was the noise again. The repetitive, dull knocking. Dusty zeroed in on the sound. What he saw made him retch. In the back corner, a Cobra trooper was kneeling, facing the wall of his cell. The man had his hands braced on the stones, and his eyes shut tight. Every few seconds, he very deliberately brought his forehead to the wall with a sickening thud of flesh hitting stone. What Dusty hadn't been able to hear from his own cell, though, was the man's voice. It was barely a whisper, a hoarse monotone. "Oh, god, no…please…" THUD. "Oh god, no…please…" THUD.

Dusty's knees finally gave way. His hands were no longer gripping the bars of the window. He felt himself fall to the stone floor. As he lost consciousness, he could hear Dr. Mindbender's laughter in the background.