Legalese: This story belongs to me and is a product of my imagination, and is done out of sheer enjoyment and love for the
characters. Hasbro owns all rights to COBRA, G.I. Joe, and all assorted likenesses. If they want to sue me, that's fine, but it will be interesting to see blood squeezed from a stone.
Slanting rain crashed through the jungle canopy, pounding down on the small group of soldiers trudging through the cluttered undergrowth. Aside from the sound of thunder and the swipe of the machete clearing foliage at the point, the warriors made no sound. As a bolt of lightning filtered through the jungle ceiling, the slight man at the front of the group stopped abruptly, his closed fist rocketing up into the air advising his unit to halt as well. He opened his hand, and with palm down slowly lowered it towards the ground. His men complied immediately, noiselessly dropping to the sodden earth, all senses on high alert.
Moving with infinite care, the warrior slid his machete into a rotted tree trunk, the ugly weapon within easy reach should the fighting get that close. [iThere you are[/i, he thought. [iI knew we'd find you sooner or later.[/i He turned back to his men, raised two fingers to his eyes, brought them down and showed the number one, followed by a pantomime of a man walking. He pointed to one man in the group, motioning him to circle around right, then pointed at himself and made the same motion sweeping left. Orders given, he turned on one heel, hefted his machete, and moved off with the grace of a jungle cat, making no sound as he bore down on his prey.
Lightning crackled across the sky again, and the trooper tried to spot the sentry he'd seen previously. Having no luck, he progressed along the same path, thinking he'd find the lone man again a few meters farther on. What he failed to see was a black-clad form closing in on him from behind and to his right, metal visor ringing softly in the downpour, the garrote clenched tightly between his fists gleaming dully in the low light.
The soldier never saw the wire being thrown over his head. His first indication anything was wrong was when the metal bit into the flesh of his throat and a solid object pressed into his lower back, increasing the pressure and cutting off any cry he may have made. As he clawed with one hand in an attempt to get his fingers under the wire, his eyes bulging out and pressing against his mirrored faceplate, the man fumbled at his belt for his sidearm, having forgotten the rifle hanging useless from its strap and the machete which had tumbled to the floor. The button flap on his holster snapped open, but he felt the man behind him shift and an iron grip locked on his hand, pinning it to his side before he could drag the weapon clear.
Black spots swam in his vision, and he became panicked, pulling at the wire embedded in his neck, feet frantically drumming the wet terrain seeking leverage. With a gurgle the man's last breath passed his lips and his body fell limp. The soldier behind him didn't release pressure from the garrote for a full minute, ensuring his victim was dead. Once satisfied, he let the body down gently and relieved it of its weapons.
The silent warrior known as Snake Eyes smiled grimly. One Jungle Viper down, four to go.
The second Viper slipped through the dense brush, eyes seeking the man his unit had been trailing for the last several hours. He'd been following a game trail since he spotted a footprint along it. Seeing a small clearing just ahead, the COBRA trooper inched forward, his gaze scanning the opening as well as his immediate surroundings. Spotting another footprint, he pushed forward to the edge of the break in the underbrush and sat just off the trail waiting for a moment before continuing forward.
Satisfied all was clear, he stepped forward to cross the small copse, his foot catching on the near-invisible tripwire strung across the trail. It released with a 'twang' and the terrorist had just enough time to say, "Oh sh-!" before the sharpened stakes punched through faceplate and body armor, impaling him and dragging his body skyward as the previously-bound branch continued on to its original position.
Watching from across the way, Snake Eyes nodded in approval at how effective his hastily-laid trap was, then turned his attention to the remaining three men who were hunting him down. He'd escape this one way or another- after all, there was still a Joe to rescue…
The three remaining Vipers searched the foliage nervously. It had been several minutes since their squad-mates moved out, and the jungle was quiet. The Vipers glanced at each other nervously, then moved into a triangle formation, with each man back to back and facing out. No one saw the stealthy shape move into position on a branch above them, nor did they spy the noose the silent commando had prepared descend from the cover of the trees.
He let the last three feet drop freely, counting on his speed to snare the Viper he'd targeted. Without watching to ensure a clean catch, the Joe leapt out from the opposite side of the branch, using his weight to draw the noose tight and lever the terrorist into the air, choking him out. At the apex of his arc, Snake Eyes tucked into a ball and rocketed back down towards the unaware soldiers below.
Extending his legs at the last possible moment, both feet caught one COBRA trooper squarely in the solar plexus, launching the man thirty feet into the undergrowth. Without missing a beat, Snake Eyes looped the rope the now-helpless Viper was dangling from around his left forearm, and as he landed cat-like drew his Extrema Ratio Fulcrum EI fighting knife from its scabbard.
Keeping the line taught, he fell into a fighting stance and in one smooth motion he sliced across the backs of the remaining Viper's hands, ripping through his Nomex gloves and opening up the backs of his hands, forcing him to drop his weapon. Snarling in anger, the soldier launched into a furious counter-attack with fists and feet, forcing the mute special operative to fall into full defense mode. The seven-inch stainless steel knife flicked out repeatedly, biting into the Viper's arms, hands, and legs, but still he came on. Seeing the soldier weakening from blood loss, Snake Eyes pressed his advantage, launching a vicious back heel kick that connected solidly with the Viper's chin. The force of the blow spun the jungle trooper to the wet ground, and Snake Eyes leapt onto the warrior's back, letting his full weight settle onto his enemy's neck, which snapped like dry kindling.
The thrum of the line wrapped around his arm let the commando know his prey was still alive, so he wrapped the line a little more tightly around his wrist, slightly increasing the pressure. Hearing movement nearby, he spun in time to see the third Viper emerging groggily from the bushes he was violently launched into a moment ago. Whipping his hand forward, Snake Eyes released the Fulcrum and sent it spinning towards its target. Plunging hilt-deep in the COBRA's larynx, the terrorist soldier pitched forward and toppled to the earth. Moving over to the corpse, he rolled the man over, removed his knife, wiped it clean on the COBRA's uniform, and deposited it back in its black ABS sheath.
The rope he was holding hummed violently, shuddered briefly, then fell still. The masked warrior loosened his grip, spilling the dead Viper to the earth, and walked away without a backwards glance. He had to find Claymore, and fast…
(previous day- HQ War Room)
"We've got a situation in the Amazon Basin," Hawk began. "Claymore has advised there is increased activity in and around the town of Iquitos. He's seen several ships docking there bearing several tons of goods and ARBCO markings." The general paused to look up from his documentation, pointing at a small city marked on the topographical map of the region on display in the War Room.
"He followed one of the convoys out of the town to this location," he tapped a point on the map. "His last transmission indicated he was going in to get a closer look at what was going on. That was yesterday at 0900. He's missed his scheduled check-ins and we suspect he's been captured."
[iDo we have a fix on his locator beacon?[/i the man known as Snake Eyes signed.
"Negative," Hawk shook his head sadly. "What we do have is a fix on his last known location, which was presumably in the area of a large-scale COBRA operation."
[iWhen do I leave?[/i the commando motioned.
"We can have you airborne within the hour," Hawk replied. "You'll be over the landing zone approximately 9 hours into the flight. Talltree's packing your 'chute now; the rest of your gear will be up to you."
The blond warrior nodded in agreement, and his fingers flitted through a quick series of words. [iAlive or dead, I leave no one behind, sir.[/i
"I know, son. Good luck and God speed," the general replied.
Snake Eyes rose from his chair, saluted, then strode from the room, his racing mind compiling a list of what items he'd need for the operation.
To be continued...