As a kid, Cobra was always my favorite from both the toys and the cartoons. Particularly, the nameless soldiers. They always had the coolest uniforms and the most interesting jobs. What really captured my imagination, however, were the little quotes on the bottom of the file cards. There were usually these really interesting tidbits of info that were never conveyed in the cartoon. Even in the comics, many of these characters were never even used. So, this is my attempt to shed some light on what it must have been like to be a "(insert-descriptive-word-here)-Viper". Some that I will definitely cover will be the Hydro-Viper, Alley-Viper, Techno-Viper, Heat-Viper, and the Frag Viper. This first chapter explores briefly the world of the Toxo-Viper/Toxo-Zombie, and to some extent, the Night-Viper. The chapters are broken up into individual interviews. Most of the file cards used are from the late 80's to the early 90's toy line.

Originally this story was written in an interview format, much like the "World War Z" Novel. I was worried that it was too close to a script format, so I changed it to a first person narrative. The dialogue is completely unchanged.

Chapter 1: The Leaky Suit Brigade

The whole thing started with a man named Felix. When the story first broke, there had not been any recorded incidents of people leaving the Cobra Organization. Felix Stratton was the first. A former Cobra Viper, Felix escaped from Cobra Island in a hot-wired Moray Hydrofoil and never looked back. After his long and slow rehabilitation, he adopted the code name Mercer, and was recruited by Sergeant Slaughter himself as a Renegade. Word spread quickly. Shortly after, men and women from all walks of life were coming out of the woodwork, claiming to also have escaped the clutches of Cobra themselves. Some lied, seeking attention and their own 15 minutes of fame. But for most of them, the ordeal had all been too real. Coming out and telling their story was the only way to deal with the pain and trauma of the nightmare that they had broken free of. Mercer gave a single interview upon his release. It wasn't with me. At the time, I would've given anything to have gotten that exclusive. For all we knew, he may have been the only Cobra in history to ever defect. Luckily for me, that wasn't the case. I never got to interview Mercer, but through luck and connections, I had been granted the rights to write a book on former members of Cobra and would be given full clearance to interview anyone I felt had a strong enough story. I wasn't sure where to start, so I decided to start at the bottom.

The first interview that I would conduct was to be with a man named Vincent Tanner. The rehabilitation center in which he was being detained was like any other prison I had visited. In my short career I had already interviewed dozens of prisoners. Some that belonged, some that probably did not. Mr. Tanner, however, would be the first Cobra I had ever met. I had half expected to be led to a maximum security location, with rows and rows of magnetic doors, guards with automatic weapons and the like, but instead, I was greeted by a single guard armed with a only a side-arm. We nodded our pleasantries as the door was opened to the room in which I was to conduct my interview.

Mr. Tanner sat quietly at the small table in the center of the small space. The lights flickered sickly in the featureless room, casting a pallor over the large muscular man, his short-cropped black hair thinning at his temples. A large, deep scar cut through his left eyebrow. He smiled weakly as I pulled up a chair across from the table. I reached out to shake his hand, but the guard that remained in the room put a hand on his gun. I retracted my gesture and offered a "Hello" instead. The guard's hand relaxed, slumping back to his side.

"Hey," was all he mustered.

I told him my name and the purpose for my interview. He nodded politely at my legal spiel, but I could see it in his eyes, I was losing him. He didn't want to be here. He wanted to tell his story, but his courage was waning under the lights and pressure of the "press". I almost cut it short, not wanting to lose my interview before it even began. I learned early on interviewing prisoners that if you lost their interest, the rest of the interview would be worthless. When that happened, you'd have to do the dance, make it seem like you got everything you needed, and hoped that the next guy would deliver. I was required by law to finish my legal statements, so I did quickly.

"Shall we just dive right in?", I said, hoping to get him talking before he changed his mind.

He nodded.

"Please state your name for the record."

"Vincent Tanner, sir." He looked up, his gaze uneasy.

"Mr. Tanner, please explain why you felt the need, after all these years to come out and tell your story?" I kept my voice as professional as I could muster. They can always tell when you're faking empathy.

He straightened slightly in his chair. "Well, sir, I feel that it's just something that needs to be told. You know, lots of kids watch the rallies, see the ads on TV. Kids. Young, just like I was. Young, and impressionable. I don't want what happened to me to happen to anyone, man. Not my worst enemy. As... as for why I waited for so long to come out, well, you know... fear. Just... fear."

"Fear of what?", I asked, leaning forward slightly.

He answered, responding in kind. "You know... them. C-Cobra," he said, his eyes widening, "I mean, there's a reason why people don't just up and quit the organization. They're connected. Well connected. Your head would spin if you only knew, man."

"Let's talk about that. You say people do not leave the organization. But you did. What drove you to finally get up and walk out the door?"

His posture straightened even more, his true personality slowly finding its way out. "Ha, if it were only that easy. It wasn't like that. I was rescued. Damn angel in disguise, man. Never saw it coming."

"Someone... rescued you?" Interesting, I thought. I assumed he had escaped on his own, like Mercer.

"Yeah. Saved my worthless life. I was in it for the long haul. Once they toss your sorry ass in the 'Leaky Suit Brigade', there's no coming out." He spoke easily. I was in the clear.

"Please elaborate."

"The Brigade? Toxo-Vipers. I was a Toxo-Viper. It's a damn death sentence. Cobra uses it as an incentive to not screw up. We were they guys they sent in when things went bad. If the Joes had the upper hand, if it was a lost cause, they sent us in. Shoot, most of the time when we did our thing, our own guys hadn't even been evacuated yet. Ha, I remember this one time, our forces were being routed by the Joes, getting our asses handed to us really, so they send us in. I remember that night... was damn near pitch black. We have night vision built into the suits, but the cheap kind, stuff you used to be able to buy at the Sharper Image. Civie junk. Not like when I was a Night Viper. That gear was state of the art, man!"

He wasn't looking at me anymore. His looked through me now. He was back there, reliving his past.

"You were a Night Viper before your demotion?"

"Demotion? Don't make me laugh. Slow execution. But yeah, I was a Night Viper. Four years, livin' in the dark. And guess what? I loved it. The organization itself scared the crap outta me, but man I loved being a Night Viper. I could put up with all the pep rallies and speeches by dear old CC, because I knew, when the sun went down, we got to play. Boys with toys, as they say. Shoot, for those four years I didn't see daylight once. The grunts stayed away from us. They were afraid, like we were vampires, or something. Night Vipers were nothing to be afraid of... unless you were a Joe. Toxo-Vipers... that's a different story."

"Explain."

"Some of the long timers... they ain't... human anymore. Zombies, man."

I feel a shiver down my spine. I didn't think he noticed. He's still not looking at me.

"Zombies?", I ask, trying hard to conceal my skepticism.

"Yeah. When you're in the brigade, they don't repair your suit, man. You break it, you better fix it, find some salvage whenever you get a chance. I took apart a B.A.T. (1) once for salvage just so I wouldn't fry in that damn suit. That radioactive sludge we spread around was nasty stuff. You walk around in that toxic crap long enough, it'll eat away at you. And not just your flesh, man. It... changes you," he mutters, unconsciouly scratching into his forearm with his nails. "You think that would be counterproductive for Cobra, but there's plenty of use for mindless drones. Not to mention the psychological effect of seein' a half-dead guy shambling towards you in a shredded bio-suit. We stayed clear of the zombies. Imagine how terrifying it was to the Joes." His lip forms a sneer. "Serves them right."

"What was the reason for your... transfer?"

"Oh, that," he says, snapping to. He briefly looks down at his arm, and drops both hands to his sides. "I refused to shoot a kid. Simple as that. Night insertion, small village near Macau. Our unit was interrogating a family for info. Our intel said they were harboring Joes. Was all lies. I learned that much, much later. Who knows why we were there. The Joes had nothing to do with it, that much I'm sure. So anyways, my CO orders me to execute this little kid. Boy must've been around 5. Snot and tears running down his face. I couldn't do it man. Not a kid. So I lower my gun, and the next thing you know I get hit from behind, and I'm out like a light. The next thing I remember was waking up with a migraine in the brig. Very next day, I was one of the damn 'Leakies'. Was the first time I saw daylight in four years," he says, his voice trailing off.

Sensing his withdrawal, I attempt to steer him back. "Back to your story. You were talking about your losing fight against G.I. Joe as a Toxo-Viper."

"Right, right. So we come in like gangbusters and start hosing the place down. Now, it's hard enough to see through that damned helmet, but add to that the cheap-ass night vision, and you can't see but a foot in front of you. And still, with that limited visibility, I was still able to spot James. James was my bunkmate and fellow N-Viper. Nice guy, James. I remember everyone liked him." He briefly cracks a faint smile before catching himself. "So there he was. Well, I didn't know it was him until I saw him up close. But I instantly recognized his silhouette as a Night Viper. I doubt any other Toxo-Viper would have. You see, the Night Viper suits are made out of synthetic composites. Makes them nearly invisible, even with infra-red sensors. Oh sure, they leave a visible trace, but only someone who's seen it every night for years would even notice. So anyways, I see James on the ground. He's unconscious. We have orders for complete ground cover. Screw that, I said to myself. James could owe me one." The smile again, which he allows to linger this time. "So I pick up his heavy ass and carry him all the way back to the rendezvous point. I'm not sure why I wasn't disciplined for leaving the front lines, but I never was. Maybe they figured being in the 'Leaky Suit Brigade' was worse than any prison cell."

"Tell me about your rescue."

"Oh, yes. I remember that day clearly. We were all in the mess hall having chow when the Joes bust in. Turns out they had a spy in with us. Told the Joes everything. Our location, ordinance, head count, everything. So when the initial blasts hit we were scrambling to get to our gear. Huge explosion tears half the building apart. I must've blacked out from the blast. When I came to, I was looking at sky. I remember how loud everything became. Like, in one single instant. Boom. I was in a heli. Not one I recognized. Then it hits me. I'm in a Joe helicopter. I have no idea what's goin' on, my mind is racing. Then, a familiar face. James. Grinning, like we were out having a couple cold ones. He leans over and puts his hand on my shoulder. "You're out, my friend. Now we're even." The damned spy was James. A Joe had saved my life. I remember I was so out of it I could barely speak. "James..." I said. I couldn't see him anymore, but his voice rang out like a bell. "Rest, Vince. And call me Chuckles." The helicopter landed about an hour later. I must've fell in and out of consciousness during the trip. When I woke, I was in a G.I. Joe Rehabilitation Center. I was out, and I was alive."

I intend to press further, but I notice his eyes welling up. His whole body shakes as he visibly tries to hold back his tears. I wait until he speaks.

"I never saw James again." He stares right at me as tears stream down his face.

And with that, a broken gaze, and a hand signal to the guard. The interview is over. The guard escorts Mr. Tanner back to his cell.

And just like that, it's over. I collect my belongings and wait for my escort out. The interview is shorter than I would have liked, but I get mostly what I had come for. Mr. Tanner has declined any further interviews.

Excerpt from The Viper Chronicles: Tales From the Other Side

(1) - B.A.T. = Battle Android Trooper.