I don't own these characters Hasbro, Matt Nix, and who ever wants to claim them does. Please don't sue me... I don't own much.
A/N: This started out as a stand alone prequel to House of Hart series... It didn't work it the story, but I loved it. Somehow after showing it to my beta (who is not a Joe fan) he thought I should expand to this more. Then there was the dare that I should try and write more down time with the Joes. So here goes. The prequel of sorts to House of Hart that focuses more on my Favorite Warrant Officer, set in my version of the 'toon verse.
BTW you don't like my characterizations you can shove it in you ear. I never said that it was 100% accurate, plus yes they are slightly different then when I wrote 14 years ago.. but I am slightly different then I was 14 years ago.
2100 German Time Operation: Eagle Down in Full effect.
In world news; the three alarm fire at the Hotel d'Artesian, has been put out in Paris, France. Investigators are looking at foul play. The fire killed eight people and left one severely burned. Though the French Police are not releasing names, it has been stated that three of the dead were American. The burn victim, who suffered 3rd degree burns over his body is in critical condition. Unsubstantiated rumors are stating that the man in question is United States Military, but the DOD has not confirmed at this time. Back to you Nancy."
"Thanks Hector. In other news, Wall Street was rocked today when, Tony Stark, CEO of Stark Industries announced today that his company will move away from lethal weapons, to non-lethal weapons and medical research, this coming on the heals of Tony Starks daring rescue in the middle east last year…
He was seething, how dare Axe say he was out of control, had he seen Weston these days? Since Ireland the man was off his rocker. That last mission was total FUBAR. What the hell was Weston thinking bringing them in with Sizemore, anyway? Well he had to say he was glad the bastard was dead. Honestly he did feel bad for punching Michael earlier tonight, but, he started it first, like hell he was going to let him finish it.
He pulled a tin of Copenhagen out of his back pocket and wrapped it a few times before pulling out a pinch. He put it in his mouth and opened his bottle that he used to spit. Looking at the bottle, he growled, Weston had written on it with a Black Sharpie EWWW GROSS. Chief Warrant Officer Dashiell Faireborn had to admit it took some balls to write on his spit bottle.
Leaning back in his seat he sighed, pulling out a worn copy of Naked in Gardenhills and his pen out. He had found the out of print book in a used bookstore in Nice last week. The French edition was a slower read for him, but that was fine he had a better understanding of the words this way.
Looking at his watch he swore, he didn't like splitting up. Who was he to argue with Commander Axe? This was the final stage of the impromptu mission that they got conned into by that slip of a girl. Michael and Sam were on their way to break into the Eastern European headquarters of Extensive Enterprises with a woman whose name they didn't even know. With a smile she had said 'just call me Agent Juliet'. 'Juliet' thought that they could find the locations of other Cobra 'Generals' that were hunting down the Joe team across the world.
Sam had wanted him to go back to the helicopter, the SEAL's plan was to get the information; then, the three of them make a mad dash out of Prague, jump in Daisy and off they go to an NSA listening post in Vienna where she could download the information. 'Juliet' would then hitch a ride home and they would go back to what ever they do. He had wanted to argue the point of how they needed him. But, he had kept his mouth shut the fact he was the only one that could fly a helicopter.
The anger began to rise with in him again, he took deep breaths cleansing the clawing feeling. How he wished for the days when he was laid back, that he didn't have to work to be happy. Now just not being angry was a struggle. His mind couldn't comprehend that Axe's decision was sound one. If he had been in charge he would have made the same damn choice.
Ah hell, what you need Faireborn is a vacation. Thoughts of a tall blonde Lieutenant he met at a beer garden in Germany, came to mind. She was always sending him those pictures that made even him blush. So what if she thought good reading was Twilight, screamed every time "Party Rock Anthem" came on and thought a fun time was talking about her shopping trips to Paris. That was the price he had to pay to use her body, no questions asked he would suffer.
In his mind the Lieutenant didn't hold a candle to the woman he had been fighting beside for the past night. She was shorter then he liked, her green eyes and ass made up for her lack of height. He was torn on which part he liked better, finally after a second of contemplation he settled on her eyes. They were this weird electric green if you looked at them you would think they were contacts. He knew that wasn't the case as when they pulled her out of the café she had shed brown colored contact after her eyes were exposed to the flash bang grenade.
They should be back by now. He got this restless feeling come over him, sighing he took a deep breath. Nothing. He heard nothing. He swore, as he did he watched a flock of birds cut through the tree line. Spitting tobacco juice in his bottle feeling a frown tug at his mouth, throwing his book in the copilot seat next to him. He began his preflight checklist, just in time as Axe burst out from the brush, motioning for him to turn over Daisy.
Clicking toggle switches, pressing buttons, Daisy sputtered then stalled. "Not now Daisy," He tried again swearing, "Daisy baby, come on. I just went over you yesterday. Please honey I know your tired, but I need this. You know you're my only girl." Third time was a charm. "Just know how to talk to my girl huh?" Settling back, he put his helmet on and turned on night vision.
The Commander was running breakneck speed toward him. The older man turned, laying down cover fire with his M16 at his pursuers that were exiting the forest. He knew the uniform the were wearing, dressed head to toe in blue with a red emblem of a hooded cobra on their chest, Cobra Troopers.
Weston and 'Juliet' broke through the line of Cobras next, 'Juliet' was up in the air jumping on the back of one of the soldiers, using the surprised man's shoulders she wrapped her legs around his neck. Then falling she took the man down with her, if the attack didn't snap the Trooper's neck he was out for the rest of the fight, and a few more after that. With out missing a beat she was up on her feet racing to catch up with Weston in no time flat.
He pulled his visor up, in the moonlight with her recently chopped hair, dirty jean skirt, torn t-shirt that read "Trouble" she was striking. Her face tired and worn, had high cheek bones these big, almond shaped eyes, and her slightly rounded nose with a field of freckles across it. Then her mouth it was expressive, with full begging to be kissed lips. With the moonlight streaming on her she was beautiful, even if she was short.
For a second their eyes met, but she quickly she turned back firing her 9mm taking one shot after another hitting each of her targets. Weston screamed for the trio to begin bounding backwards toward Daisy. Axe started laying cover fire so the other two could move toward him, it was Sam's turn when something caused her to leap into action. Running forward she pushed him to the ground. Taking aim to the side a brazen trooper fell over dead, shot center mass.
Saving Sam's bacon had come with a cost. She was shot, holding pressure to her thigh he could see her trying in vain to stop the arterial flow. Michael hand her in his arms Sam franticly laying down cover fire.
Daisy shook as Michael and Sam jumped in. He was already pulling up on the yoke, "Faireborn get us the hell out of here she's been hit!" Michael screamed, the normally ice cold spy dropped an f-bomb.
Dash nodded lowering his visor he uncovered the red button on the joystick. "Come on Daisy, daddy has a score to settle." With practiced movements he commanded Daisy to rise. Turning her, he grinned as he let loose Daisey's two 7.62 machine guns driving the Snakes back.
All the smug, yogurt eating Card had told them in that arrogant voice of his that she was a very important operative. CIA operatives do not fight like she did, openly engaging the enemy. Then with disregard to her own safety, she pushed Sam out of the line of fire. Her moves reminded him more of a luchador then a spook. Who ever she was one thing was obvious she was not one of Card's superstars.
"Sorry kiddo this is going to hurt like hell." Sam could be heard yelling over the noise of the helicopter blades. Her guttural scream chilled Faireborn to the bone. It seems a knee to the groin hurt just the same if you have a penis or not. "It still gushing." Sam swore. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Sam remove his belt. Unlike Michael's leather his was canvas and less likely to stretch once it got soaked with blood.
Once they reached altitude, he looked over his shoulder and saw her lips moving. It dawned on him she was praying. Giving Michael a questioning look, the CIA agent watched her for a second.
"Gaelic." Michael explained as he taped down the tourniquet.
"Scottish Gaelic." She corrected with a slight brogue. This slip of a girl was dying and she was correcting them to which Gaelic she was speaking, this was priceless. Who the hell was she?
Sam swore moving to find more wading, though it was no longer spirting the wound was still a fast seep. "Are you sure we don't have an Israeli bandage?"
Before Michael could comment, Dash reached up behind him pulling a small outdated med kit. "If she dies in here your cleaning it up, Commander." He said in Axes direction. Then softening his voice for her benefit "I should have some Quikclot in there."
Looking over his shoulder he watched as Sam tore open the package, taking the powder he poured it into her wound. This time her scream was filled with anguish, a battle at Bragg told him once how much it hurt to have the powder applied. The sounds torn from her mouth confirmed the story, and he felt his heart squeeze in distress. Then after a minute of listening to a noise he never in his life wanted to hear again, there was silence. Looking back over his shoulder he realized she lost consciousness.
"Bring me a light I need to find a vein. We need to pump her full of fluids." Michael grimly began the task of setting up for an IV.
Faireborn realized that she needed a hospital not a listening post. Tapping into the frequency that Card had given him he spoke, "Delta-Tango-Juliet-eight-fife this is Renegade-Charlie-tree-niner, I have the package, slightly damaged. Waiting for directions to FedEx."
"Negative, not a good copy." The RTO crackled in his ear. "We are to hot at the pick up site, there will not be a medevac, stand by for further."
Looking over his shoulder Weston shook his head, "You don't understand she's bleeding out in my FUCKING bird and we took direct fire." He took a deep breath. "She will not make it with out Medical Attention, ASAP."
"Listen here son, you break her you bought her. Right now this is Joe season in Europe and Cobra is wracking up the points." A gruffer more commanding voice "My RTO is working with the nearest medical facility for intake. Son, I also suggest that you as soon as you fed-ex it, go talk to your CO about proper language on Coms, tell him the Hawk sent you."
Faireborn felt the color leave his face, any member of the Special Forces worth their salt knew that name, Hawk. General Hawk. He was whispered with names like Joseph Colton, Steve Rogers and Nick Furry. He was the commander of an elite hand chosen anti-terrorist unit, they had some official title he was sure of it, but those whispering about them called them what their fathers and grandfathers before called them: GI Joe.
How could she be a Joe? She was so young and a little thing at that, what was she their mascot? Sam looked at them and whistled, "Oh boys, this is bad." Sam looked down at the girl he was holding pressure on her wound.
"I thought she would be older." Michael took her face in.
"I thought she'd be taller." Sam countered.
All three of them had heard about a Joe agent running missions all over Europe and the Middle East making quiet a name for herself. "You don't think that's her?" Flint amazed that this 'lil' bit' of a girl was a legend in her own right .
The three of them looked at the unconscious form, turning back checking his dials he swore, Flint was not going to let her die on the floor board of Daisy. The general consensus about him was that he was an arrogant bastard. He was fine with that; but, he was not going to be the arrogant bastard that let a Joe die in his black hawk. "Hang on boys were going to Landstuhl."
The flight to Landstuhl was white knuckle all the way, she stopped breathing once, Sam and Michael worked feverishly to get her breathing again, then arriving there a No Fly Zone was in effect which he completely ignored. He only began to breath normally when they touched down next to the hospital.
Two men in sanitized uniforms jumped in, it was only by chance that he recognized the blonde man with the movie star looks. "Faireborn, I should of know." He groaned.
Ten years ago Staff Sergeant Hauser was his squad leader in his first tour in Iraq as an eleven bang-bang. "Good to see you, Duke." Flint threw the older man a cheesy grin.
"Would love to say the same about you, sir." He bit out the last part as if not pleased that he had to give curtsey to someone he had commanded, well, tried to. "You do know that you about got blown out of the sky. Thankfully our girl here has a transmitter, find her anywhere. We were able to see she was in your bird."
"You do know she is more trouble then she is worth." He blinked, it was a lie the minute it came out of his mouth, he knew it and Duke knew it. The Sergeant arched an eyebrow silently calling him on it. When Faireborn said nothing to contradict him, he nodded.
"Fair enough." He turned around inclining his head at Sam and Weston. The Sergeant settled to watch an older African American man doing a quick medical assessment on her. Looking out the bay doors he saw a red head woman with arms crossed, wearing a worried expression on her face. Like Hauser she was covered in soot and blood. Dash could tell she was barely keeping it together; this night had torn her apart.
Beyond her standing at the fence line wearing the same expressions on their face was eight men, looking with anxiety on their faces. They waited heavy hearts looking like these soldiers could use some good news. They were claiming this stubborn creature as their own.
The doctor raised up pocketing his pen light surveying at their work, "Shoddy but effective. If she's lucky and makes it through transport, she'll live."
Green eyes snapped open, "I am right here, Doc!" that brogue again, the two men share a smile. His stomach did a little flip-flop, was this her natural voice?
"Just wanted to see if you were awake Lady Jaye." Doc said good naturally. "Let's get you into surgery."
Faireborn watched as 'Doc' put something in her IV. Giving a thumbs up to the woman and men waiting, he heard screams of Hooay, Ho-rah and Yo Joe. In quick, efficient movements two medics waiting brought a gurney closer to Daisy. Duke picked her up handing her down to the Solider that had said Ho-rah that coupled with his corps tattoo and nod he gave to Sam, Faireborn figured was a Marine. "Okay, Jaye say goodbye to your playmates." The Doc said jumping down.
They had been right that little thing was Lady Jaye, THE Lady Jaye. She was so young, and beautiful. It hit him then, he wondered how out of line it would be to climb down and ask her for her number. "Bye Weston, The Chin and Flint." Her brogue brought him out of his thoughts.
Duke chuckled "No Jaye, his name is Faireborn. Chief Warrant Officer Faireborn."
"Flint." To her the name made all the sense in the world. The look she cast Duke spoke that she couldn't understand why no one else saw it.
"No Jaye." Duke tried to explain.
Before he could get anything out Jaye cut him off, "I think he lied to you, his name is Flint."
"She has no tolerance for morphine, makes her a great patient. She'll be out in a minute, meantime she keeps us entertained." Doc explained. They watched as Doc began to wheel her in and the red head followed.
"You know Scarlett, that Flint he's real pretty." She thought he was pretty, he settled in his chair nodding as Sam climbed over to his co-Pilot seat. He remembered how close he came to finding out if her lips were kissable. In the dark of a safe house, for a brief second. As he lifted off he thought Damn I should have kissed that girl.