The Legionnaire
Author's Note/Disclaimer: I do not own any of the GI Joe or X-men Evolution characters in this fanfic. The setting is the year 2007, five years after the probable destruction of the Xavier Institute by the Friends of Humanity and Cobra's taking over the Sentinel production facility…
~ ~ ~ ~
"Attention on deck!" Gung Ho called when he saw General Hawk walk into the mess hall with a newcomer walking behind him. The newcomer was in civilian clothes consisting of a light brown leather jacket, gray sweater and tan trousers and carrying a duffel bag and a French military rucksack.
"Joes, this is our new recruit, transferred from the French Foreign Legion, Caporal Conrad Hart." Hawk said, "Lifeline, give our new recruit a tour of the facilities after he stows his gear. Do you know where the barracks are?"
"Oui mon general." The newcomer replied, and when Hawk looked at him, "Sorry sir, force of habit."
In a few minutes the man was smartly attired in a light gray short sleeved uniform complete with his kepi blanc, the traditional white cap of a legionnaire. On his belt was a knife that appeared to be fashioned from a shard of metal with what looked like a rubber knife handle. "That knife doesn't look like it's standard issue."
"It is not." Conrad replied.
"Can I see it?" Lifeline said.
The legionnaire handed him the knife, it was light and well balanced and looked like it had seen quite a bit of use. "I made use of local materials in Africa."
As the legionnaire handed him the dagger, Lifeline saw what looked like a thin, ridged scar down the man's arm. "Also another souvenir from Africa. A Libyan soldier and I got into quite a close in fight and I had to put him down with a shard of metal from the wreckage of my jeep which I later made into this knife." The legionnaire replied.
"Well, since you're all settled in, we've got afternoon close quarter battle training with Duke." Lifeline said uneasily.
The firing line was tense; all the Joes had M-16s in their hands. Flint was paired up with Conrad and the live fire exercise began. The adrenaline rush of this live-fire course was what many a Joe and aspirant had to look out for. As Flint reloaded a magazine, he suddenly saw his partner turn, grab his knife and all he saw was a glinting blur as the blade flew past his ear less than inch away and embed itself firmly in the throat of a pop up target that appeared.
"Foreign Legion combat rule number one, if you have little ammunition and a lot of targets, you are in combat, mon adjutant." Hart said, retrieving his knife from the pop up target.
~ ~ ~ ~
"Mon adjutant? What is that supposed to mean? He's been calling me that all week." Flint said, "I've never seen such an abrasive character in all my life."
"Admit it, Flint." Lady Jaye said from her side of the table, "You got taken by surprise. That's why this is a team exercise. And by the way he was calling you sir. Adjutant means warrant officer."
"Oh, you're talking about that legionnaire guy. You know that silent guy over there in the olive drab fatigues." Lifeline said, joining them at the table, "It's creepy how he just sits there after he's eaten and sharpens that knife of his."
"Any nickname suggestions?" said Flint.
"How about Section Eight." Said Lifeline, "I swear, he almost freaked when I went into his room to tell him it was chow time."
"He's been here almost a week and he doesn't seem to have much of a social life." Flint said.
"You know, I've often heard the legion accepts nothing less than outright criminals into their ranks." Lifeline mused.
"I notice how he doesn't seem to have any sort of personal affects, like pictures or anything lying around that room." Flint added, "But then he's only been here a week."
"I'll let Psyche Out know if we have any problems." Lifeline said, "Otherwise I can't order a psych eval for a guy just being a grouch."
~ ~ ~ ~
Tour de France, a famous bicycle race internationally. It was a heady time in the young man's life as he boarded the aircraft bound for France, his bicycle of his own design in the cargo compartment and his gear in a sports bag. Aside from that, his only personal baggage was a small backpack. It was a bit of a disappointment that his friends couldn't be there to provide moral support. Xavier said something about training exercises and the man accepted. Still he wished they could be there.
He thought so even more as he checked into the hotel where the Tour de France racers were staying. As he walked into the cafeteria for lunch he saw Kitty Pryde along with the others from the Institute in the lobby. "Conrad!" Kitty said, recognizing the medium built seventeen-year-old with the light brown leather jacket and tousled brown hair.
"Oh my God!" Conrad Hart replied, smiling ear to ear, "What are you doing here? I thought you had training…"
"Oh that was to surprise you." Scott Summers said, walking into the lobby with two heavy suitcases.
"Yeah, we thought we'd give you some moral support." Jean said, trudging in behind Scott.
It was a happier time for the man. The love of his friends made it feel almost as if he had a family for the first time ever. Suddenly the dream shifted. He was standing in the halls of the Xavier mansion. He saw a dead body leaning against the wall. It was Scott Summers, his glasses broken, one eye-swollen shut, the other wide open as if to accuse the man of betrayal. He saw fires burning at random areas. He could see stones flying through the window, Molotov cocktails being thrown, gunfire. He could see what looked like Rahne hanging by her neck from a tree by a jeering mob…
Conrad woke with a start, that nightmare again for the fifth time that week. Why after five years did it come back. Five years in the Foreign Legion meant a relatively dreamless sleep, dreams about the destruction of the Institute by the Friends of Humanity, self-righteous bastards that they were, and the deaths of his friends were more rare and Conrad could almost forget.
Strangely enough, he heard an announcement over the PA system about a briefing. Within minutes the Joes were assembled, many of them in their pajamas and assorted sleeping gear.
Duke stood behind a podium; "We have received unconfirmed reports that Cobra has had its hands in business with the Friends of Humanity, an international anti-mutant group that's been active in recent years. We believe Cobra has been supplying arms to militant factions of the Friends of Humanity in Bayville…"
"Militant factions my arse," came a bitter retort with a familiar British accent, "They're all prejudiced, militant bastards."
The others turned to see the familiar legionnaire they all called Section Eight sitting in the back of the room, the seven flamed grenade, the mark of the Foreign Legion tattooed into the bicep visible because of his sleeveless t-shirt, his cold brown eyes burning with hatred.
"At any rate, myself, Lady Jaye, and Scarlet are comprising the Intelligence section with Breaker as our communications expert. Lowlight, Lifeline, Section Eight, you're our insertion element. I want you posing as potential buyers and identifying any Cobra operatives encountered. This is an intelligence operation, but the General wants all of you on standby. Something big is brewing and I can feel it." Duke said, "Get your gear together and lets go."
~ ~ ~ ~
"Where is our resident psychopath, Section Eight?" Lifeline asked.
"Who knows." Lowlight replied, concerned, "He was sitting back there a minute ago."
"He's at the intersection of Bailey Avenue and Harlow Street." Bree replied.
"Lifeline, two questions." Lowlight said, "Did you have to bring her along? And second of all, I know she's a lot of things but since when was she a psychic."
"Psychic? Hardly." Bree said, sitting in the SUV they had rented, "I took the liberty of planting a tracking sensor in our friend Section Eight's jacket."
Bree took a little scanner from her purse, "And now he's moving off Harlow Street to Memorial Street."
"Hey, I'm no resident of Bayville, but according to this map there's a cemetery at where Harlow and Memorial streets branch off." Lowlight said.
"Put her in gear, pronto, Lowlight." Lifeline replied.
From the back seat Bree said, "Hey isn't that Section Eight's rucksack?"
"Don't you dare open that, he might go berserk if discovers you've been rifling through his stuff." Lifeline replied.
"Well I'll be." Bree said, "Two issues of Soldier of Fortune magazine and Cyclist's Monthly? I'm not a psychologist but isn't that a bit of an odd combination."
"Stay out of that thing Bree." Lifeline warned, "Section Eight's gonna be angrier than a swarm of hornets."
"Hey look," Bree said, pulling out a picture in a frame. The picture was a few years old, as evidenced by the folds in it. It contained a picture of a group of people, one of them a younger version of their flighty legionnaire, with a fuller head of hair and a happier disposition. A bald man in a wheel chair was in front and standing beside Section Eight was a young woman with chestnut brown hair, clear blue eyes and a slender build, "Aww, isn't that cute, Section Eight looks like he has a little sweetheart."
"Then why is he going to the cemetery?" Lifeline asked.
"Who can figure that man out?" Bree said, "He truly sounds like a full blown section eight."
"We're at the cemetery, but I don't see Section Eight anywhere." Lifeline said.
"Over there, see that lone figure standing beside that tree in front of that grave." Low Light said. The fog made it harder to see but Lifeline could make out a dim outline of a man, his shoulders hunched, hands in his pocket.
"I killed the headlights, I don't want him to know we've spotted him just yet. Bree you might wanna put that stuff back in his rucksack before we get him down here, we don't know just what kind of state of mind he's in." Lifeline said.
~ ~ ~ ~
Conrad stood there, in front of the grave, the headstone reading, Kitty Pryde, May 15, 1985 – August 13, 2002. He had wandered out of the SUV he had been sitting in with the others until they got their orders from Duke and walked until he made it to the Bayville Cemetery.
"I don't know what to say, honestly. All I can say is I'm sorry I got you where you are now. It's my damn fault that you're here. I wish that it were you standing here instead of me. I should be the one lying six feet under, not you. The only thing I ever cared about before I met you was adventure, of doing things that were challenges. Then I met you and everything changed. I still love adventure but I love you even more. You saved my life that day, even when I didn't deserve it…" Conrad said, feeling moisture on his face. Funny, no rain, just the fog, but where the hell was this moisture coming from. Actually he knew damn well that the moisture was coming from his eyes but he was vehemently denying it, "I'm going to kill the sons of bitches that did this to you guys if it's the last thing I ever do!"
Lifeline walked among the headstones and as he did so, he did a double take, "Jean Grey, January 3, 1983 – August 13, 2002. Scott Summers, October 5, 1982 – August 13, 2002. Kurt Wagner, July 8, 1985 – August 13, 2002. All these people died at the same day."
He passed two more headstones, Evan Daniels, Ororo Monroe, both sharing the same death date as the other tombstones. He saw Section Eight standing one headstone away the one for Rahne Hadley. Lifeline was behind Section Eight and so Section Eight didn't see him. He read the headstone that Section Eight was standing in front of, the one for Kitty Pryde. He tried to read what he could from the man's expression. Section Eight was thinking of that terrible day five years ago…
~ ~ ~ ~
"Oh my God!" Jean Grey said, peering out the window, seeing the angry mob that had trampled down the gates with a large pickup truck. She could see them lynch Rahne from a sturdy oak tree in the lawn.
"Jean, get down!" Scott yelled as a fusillade of gunfire, stones, and firebombs came crashing into the front of the mansion. The Sentinels attack a few hours ago that the X-men had just fought off had rendered the security system nearly useless. Every Sentinel had been destroyed because Conrad had led them right into the teeth of the mansion's defenses, but there was no way any of them could have predicted that the Friends of Humanity rally that was being held that day would turn into a deadly paranoiac orgy against suspected mutants in the town.
Before Jean could do anything, a bullet struck her through the side. "No! Jean!!!" Scott yelled, getting to Jean's side, catching her before she hit the ground.
"Oh my God! Someone help her!!" Scott shouted, bringing a gasping, dying Jean into the infirmary. A stone smashed into his leg, knocking him down. He got up, shakily, firing lethal optic blasts into the mob that was clambering up the staircase. He saw what looked like a bazooka carried by one of the mob that fired it into the ceiling. Rubble began to rain down and Scott threw himself on top of Jean to protect her. It was his last act as they died in each other's arms.
Conrad decloaked, revealing his position and he closed his eyes as he expected bullets to come raining into him when he was dragged through the wall. Kitty Pryde had pulled him through just in time and yanked him into a closet as several bullets came tearing through the drywall.
He heard a British accented voice call out to the mob, "Search this house from top to bottom, kill all the bloody muties you find!"
That voice belonged to a Cobra mercenary called Major Bludd who had sold several Friends of Humanity members military grade weapons and spurred their desire to test them on the "Mutant Menace" by attacking the Xavier Institute, which they had suspected was a mutant haven because why else would the Sentinels attack it.
Both Conrad and Kitty could hear Kurt Wagner scream in pain as he was hit. Shortly after they heard Evan Daniels echo the same. "Let's get out of here while we still can!" Conrad said.
"No, the others!" Kitty said.
"Kitty, there's nothing we can do." Conrad replied.
"Scott will have this down any minute." Kitty said, "Then we can come out."
"Scott's dead." Conrad said gently, "I think the others are too. Stick close to me, I'll cover you and start phasing us outside. I promise we'll look for the others once we get outside."
Kitty wiped away tears as she did so and Conrad cloaked his own body as well as Kitty's. Together, they managed to make it into the woods. However, Conrad had forgotten that though he was invisible he was not completely undetectable as a fusillade of gunfire tore into the foliage. He kept running, half dragging Kitty along until he made it deep enough that it was safe.
"We're safe, for now. Let's wait until they stop searching for us and see if we can't rescue the survivors." Conrad said.
"Conrad, I'm scared." Kitty said.
"Me too. I'm utterly terrified." Conrad had said, he fiddled into his pocket for a lighter just as a single shot echoed through the air, striking Kitty in the abdomen.
"You're not getting away that easy, mutant!" Major Bludd shouted. The mustachioed Englishman came forward and Conrad raised his hands. Kitty did so too, while placed the other one on her belly where the bullet had entered.
Major Bludd came closer and said, "Well, thought you could get away, well you thought wrong…"
With the life of the woman he loved at stake, Conrad hurled himself into Major Bludd, taking the Englishman by surprise, attacking his own countryman with savage desperation. Within a few seconds, Major Bludd had the younger man by his throat, "I shall enjoy killing you, for that was not a wise choice of action. My organization, Cobra, could have used you or the survivors in return for your lives, but you foolishly attacked me, and that should have consequences. So maybe I'll give your lovely companion some medical treatment after I bury you…"
Conrad had dug into his pocket, digging out the lighter that he quietly ignited and stuck into Major Bludd's eye. "AAGGH!!" he shouted in agony, writhing on the ground as Conrad ran to Kitty's side.
"It's alright, I'll get you some help. You're gonna be fine." Conrad said, desperately trying to reassure Kitty that everything would be all right.
"Conrad, it's okay. I'm not going to make it." Kitty said, drifting away.
"No, you're going to make it. I swear you will." Conrad said.
"You tried your best, thank you for getting me this far…" she said as her eyes began to close.
Conrad stayed with her the rest of the night as Major Bludd wandered through the underbrush, nursing his burnt eye. He was no threat for now. He joined the Foreign Legion a month after lying low in the streets, managing to scrounge enough money to buy a plane ticket to Paris.
~ ~ ~ ~
"Section Eight?" Lifeline said.
The man turned, the look of haunted exhaustion on his face. "Come on, let's get you back to the truck. You're in pretty bad shape."
For once, Section Eight complied.
~ ~ ~ ~
"So how did you come by that eye patch?" the Baroness asked Major Bludd, as they were pulling off their arms deal.
"I got stabbed in the eye with a lighter here in Bayville when we attacked a mansion harboring mutants." Major Bludd replied.
"What have you got against mutants anyway?" Destro asked.
"I didn't have anything to do with the riot that destroyed Xavier's mansion, but I had everything to do with arming that mob. They had the motivation, I supplied their weapons." Major Bludd replied, "I just want this one mutant, Conrad Hart, who took out my eye five years ago. I want him dead."
To be continued…
~ ~ ~ ~
Author's Note: Any questions you may have resulted from my not having seen the GI Joe series in a long time and relying solely on my fragmented memory and a couple fansites. Please place any other questions, complements, comments, and flames (which will be promptly ignored) on the review area.
Author's Note/Disclaimer: I do not own any of the GI Joe or X-men Evolution characters in this fanfic. The setting is the year 2007, five years after the probable destruction of the Xavier Institute by the Friends of Humanity and Cobra's taking over the Sentinel production facility…
~ ~ ~ ~
"Attention on deck!" Gung Ho called when he saw General Hawk walk into the mess hall with a newcomer walking behind him. The newcomer was in civilian clothes consisting of a light brown leather jacket, gray sweater and tan trousers and carrying a duffel bag and a French military rucksack.
"Joes, this is our new recruit, transferred from the French Foreign Legion, Caporal Conrad Hart." Hawk said, "Lifeline, give our new recruit a tour of the facilities after he stows his gear. Do you know where the barracks are?"
"Oui mon general." The newcomer replied, and when Hawk looked at him, "Sorry sir, force of habit."
In a few minutes the man was smartly attired in a light gray short sleeved uniform complete with his kepi blanc, the traditional white cap of a legionnaire. On his belt was a knife that appeared to be fashioned from a shard of metal with what looked like a rubber knife handle. "That knife doesn't look like it's standard issue."
"It is not." Conrad replied.
"Can I see it?" Lifeline said.
The legionnaire handed him the knife, it was light and well balanced and looked like it had seen quite a bit of use. "I made use of local materials in Africa."
As the legionnaire handed him the dagger, Lifeline saw what looked like a thin, ridged scar down the man's arm. "Also another souvenir from Africa. A Libyan soldier and I got into quite a close in fight and I had to put him down with a shard of metal from the wreckage of my jeep which I later made into this knife." The legionnaire replied.
"Well, since you're all settled in, we've got afternoon close quarter battle training with Duke." Lifeline said uneasily.
The firing line was tense; all the Joes had M-16s in their hands. Flint was paired up with Conrad and the live fire exercise began. The adrenaline rush of this live-fire course was what many a Joe and aspirant had to look out for. As Flint reloaded a magazine, he suddenly saw his partner turn, grab his knife and all he saw was a glinting blur as the blade flew past his ear less than inch away and embed itself firmly in the throat of a pop up target that appeared.
"Foreign Legion combat rule number one, if you have little ammunition and a lot of targets, you are in combat, mon adjutant." Hart said, retrieving his knife from the pop up target.
~ ~ ~ ~
"Mon adjutant? What is that supposed to mean? He's been calling me that all week." Flint said, "I've never seen such an abrasive character in all my life."
"Admit it, Flint." Lady Jaye said from her side of the table, "You got taken by surprise. That's why this is a team exercise. And by the way he was calling you sir. Adjutant means warrant officer."
"Oh, you're talking about that legionnaire guy. You know that silent guy over there in the olive drab fatigues." Lifeline said, joining them at the table, "It's creepy how he just sits there after he's eaten and sharpens that knife of his."
"Any nickname suggestions?" said Flint.
"How about Section Eight." Said Lifeline, "I swear, he almost freaked when I went into his room to tell him it was chow time."
"He's been here almost a week and he doesn't seem to have much of a social life." Flint said.
"You know, I've often heard the legion accepts nothing less than outright criminals into their ranks." Lifeline mused.
"I notice how he doesn't seem to have any sort of personal affects, like pictures or anything lying around that room." Flint added, "But then he's only been here a week."
"I'll let Psyche Out know if we have any problems." Lifeline said, "Otherwise I can't order a psych eval for a guy just being a grouch."
~ ~ ~ ~
Tour de France, a famous bicycle race internationally. It was a heady time in the young man's life as he boarded the aircraft bound for France, his bicycle of his own design in the cargo compartment and his gear in a sports bag. Aside from that, his only personal baggage was a small backpack. It was a bit of a disappointment that his friends couldn't be there to provide moral support. Xavier said something about training exercises and the man accepted. Still he wished they could be there.
He thought so even more as he checked into the hotel where the Tour de France racers were staying. As he walked into the cafeteria for lunch he saw Kitty Pryde along with the others from the Institute in the lobby. "Conrad!" Kitty said, recognizing the medium built seventeen-year-old with the light brown leather jacket and tousled brown hair.
"Oh my God!" Conrad Hart replied, smiling ear to ear, "What are you doing here? I thought you had training…"
"Oh that was to surprise you." Scott Summers said, walking into the lobby with two heavy suitcases.
"Yeah, we thought we'd give you some moral support." Jean said, trudging in behind Scott.
It was a happier time for the man. The love of his friends made it feel almost as if he had a family for the first time ever. Suddenly the dream shifted. He was standing in the halls of the Xavier mansion. He saw a dead body leaning against the wall. It was Scott Summers, his glasses broken, one eye-swollen shut, the other wide open as if to accuse the man of betrayal. He saw fires burning at random areas. He could see stones flying through the window, Molotov cocktails being thrown, gunfire. He could see what looked like Rahne hanging by her neck from a tree by a jeering mob…
Conrad woke with a start, that nightmare again for the fifth time that week. Why after five years did it come back. Five years in the Foreign Legion meant a relatively dreamless sleep, dreams about the destruction of the Institute by the Friends of Humanity, self-righteous bastards that they were, and the deaths of his friends were more rare and Conrad could almost forget.
Strangely enough, he heard an announcement over the PA system about a briefing. Within minutes the Joes were assembled, many of them in their pajamas and assorted sleeping gear.
Duke stood behind a podium; "We have received unconfirmed reports that Cobra has had its hands in business with the Friends of Humanity, an international anti-mutant group that's been active in recent years. We believe Cobra has been supplying arms to militant factions of the Friends of Humanity in Bayville…"
"Militant factions my arse," came a bitter retort with a familiar British accent, "They're all prejudiced, militant bastards."
The others turned to see the familiar legionnaire they all called Section Eight sitting in the back of the room, the seven flamed grenade, the mark of the Foreign Legion tattooed into the bicep visible because of his sleeveless t-shirt, his cold brown eyes burning with hatred.
"At any rate, myself, Lady Jaye, and Scarlet are comprising the Intelligence section with Breaker as our communications expert. Lowlight, Lifeline, Section Eight, you're our insertion element. I want you posing as potential buyers and identifying any Cobra operatives encountered. This is an intelligence operation, but the General wants all of you on standby. Something big is brewing and I can feel it." Duke said, "Get your gear together and lets go."
~ ~ ~ ~
"Where is our resident psychopath, Section Eight?" Lifeline asked.
"Who knows." Lowlight replied, concerned, "He was sitting back there a minute ago."
"He's at the intersection of Bailey Avenue and Harlow Street." Bree replied.
"Lifeline, two questions." Lowlight said, "Did you have to bring her along? And second of all, I know she's a lot of things but since when was she a psychic."
"Psychic? Hardly." Bree said, sitting in the SUV they had rented, "I took the liberty of planting a tracking sensor in our friend Section Eight's jacket."
Bree took a little scanner from her purse, "And now he's moving off Harlow Street to Memorial Street."
"Hey, I'm no resident of Bayville, but according to this map there's a cemetery at where Harlow and Memorial streets branch off." Lowlight said.
"Put her in gear, pronto, Lowlight." Lifeline replied.
From the back seat Bree said, "Hey isn't that Section Eight's rucksack?"
"Don't you dare open that, he might go berserk if discovers you've been rifling through his stuff." Lifeline replied.
"Well I'll be." Bree said, "Two issues of Soldier of Fortune magazine and Cyclist's Monthly? I'm not a psychologist but isn't that a bit of an odd combination."
"Stay out of that thing Bree." Lifeline warned, "Section Eight's gonna be angrier than a swarm of hornets."
"Hey look," Bree said, pulling out a picture in a frame. The picture was a few years old, as evidenced by the folds in it. It contained a picture of a group of people, one of them a younger version of their flighty legionnaire, with a fuller head of hair and a happier disposition. A bald man in a wheel chair was in front and standing beside Section Eight was a young woman with chestnut brown hair, clear blue eyes and a slender build, "Aww, isn't that cute, Section Eight looks like he has a little sweetheart."
"Then why is he going to the cemetery?" Lifeline asked.
"Who can figure that man out?" Bree said, "He truly sounds like a full blown section eight."
"We're at the cemetery, but I don't see Section Eight anywhere." Lifeline said.
"Over there, see that lone figure standing beside that tree in front of that grave." Low Light said. The fog made it harder to see but Lifeline could make out a dim outline of a man, his shoulders hunched, hands in his pocket.
"I killed the headlights, I don't want him to know we've spotted him just yet. Bree you might wanna put that stuff back in his rucksack before we get him down here, we don't know just what kind of state of mind he's in." Lifeline said.
~ ~ ~ ~
Conrad stood there, in front of the grave, the headstone reading, Kitty Pryde, May 15, 1985 – August 13, 2002. He had wandered out of the SUV he had been sitting in with the others until they got their orders from Duke and walked until he made it to the Bayville Cemetery.
"I don't know what to say, honestly. All I can say is I'm sorry I got you where you are now. It's my damn fault that you're here. I wish that it were you standing here instead of me. I should be the one lying six feet under, not you. The only thing I ever cared about before I met you was adventure, of doing things that were challenges. Then I met you and everything changed. I still love adventure but I love you even more. You saved my life that day, even when I didn't deserve it…" Conrad said, feeling moisture on his face. Funny, no rain, just the fog, but where the hell was this moisture coming from. Actually he knew damn well that the moisture was coming from his eyes but he was vehemently denying it, "I'm going to kill the sons of bitches that did this to you guys if it's the last thing I ever do!"
Lifeline walked among the headstones and as he did so, he did a double take, "Jean Grey, January 3, 1983 – August 13, 2002. Scott Summers, October 5, 1982 – August 13, 2002. Kurt Wagner, July 8, 1985 – August 13, 2002. All these people died at the same day."
He passed two more headstones, Evan Daniels, Ororo Monroe, both sharing the same death date as the other tombstones. He saw Section Eight standing one headstone away the one for Rahne Hadley. Lifeline was behind Section Eight and so Section Eight didn't see him. He read the headstone that Section Eight was standing in front of, the one for Kitty Pryde. He tried to read what he could from the man's expression. Section Eight was thinking of that terrible day five years ago…
~ ~ ~ ~
"Oh my God!" Jean Grey said, peering out the window, seeing the angry mob that had trampled down the gates with a large pickup truck. She could see them lynch Rahne from a sturdy oak tree in the lawn.
"Jean, get down!" Scott yelled as a fusillade of gunfire, stones, and firebombs came crashing into the front of the mansion. The Sentinels attack a few hours ago that the X-men had just fought off had rendered the security system nearly useless. Every Sentinel had been destroyed because Conrad had led them right into the teeth of the mansion's defenses, but there was no way any of them could have predicted that the Friends of Humanity rally that was being held that day would turn into a deadly paranoiac orgy against suspected mutants in the town.
Before Jean could do anything, a bullet struck her through the side. "No! Jean!!!" Scott yelled, getting to Jean's side, catching her before she hit the ground.
"Oh my God! Someone help her!!" Scott shouted, bringing a gasping, dying Jean into the infirmary. A stone smashed into his leg, knocking him down. He got up, shakily, firing lethal optic blasts into the mob that was clambering up the staircase. He saw what looked like a bazooka carried by one of the mob that fired it into the ceiling. Rubble began to rain down and Scott threw himself on top of Jean to protect her. It was his last act as they died in each other's arms.
Conrad decloaked, revealing his position and he closed his eyes as he expected bullets to come raining into him when he was dragged through the wall. Kitty Pryde had pulled him through just in time and yanked him into a closet as several bullets came tearing through the drywall.
He heard a British accented voice call out to the mob, "Search this house from top to bottom, kill all the bloody muties you find!"
That voice belonged to a Cobra mercenary called Major Bludd who had sold several Friends of Humanity members military grade weapons and spurred their desire to test them on the "Mutant Menace" by attacking the Xavier Institute, which they had suspected was a mutant haven because why else would the Sentinels attack it.
Both Conrad and Kitty could hear Kurt Wagner scream in pain as he was hit. Shortly after they heard Evan Daniels echo the same. "Let's get out of here while we still can!" Conrad said.
"No, the others!" Kitty said.
"Kitty, there's nothing we can do." Conrad replied.
"Scott will have this down any minute." Kitty said, "Then we can come out."
"Scott's dead." Conrad said gently, "I think the others are too. Stick close to me, I'll cover you and start phasing us outside. I promise we'll look for the others once we get outside."
Kitty wiped away tears as she did so and Conrad cloaked his own body as well as Kitty's. Together, they managed to make it into the woods. However, Conrad had forgotten that though he was invisible he was not completely undetectable as a fusillade of gunfire tore into the foliage. He kept running, half dragging Kitty along until he made it deep enough that it was safe.
"We're safe, for now. Let's wait until they stop searching for us and see if we can't rescue the survivors." Conrad said.
"Conrad, I'm scared." Kitty said.
"Me too. I'm utterly terrified." Conrad had said, he fiddled into his pocket for a lighter just as a single shot echoed through the air, striking Kitty in the abdomen.
"You're not getting away that easy, mutant!" Major Bludd shouted. The mustachioed Englishman came forward and Conrad raised his hands. Kitty did so too, while placed the other one on her belly where the bullet had entered.
Major Bludd came closer and said, "Well, thought you could get away, well you thought wrong…"
With the life of the woman he loved at stake, Conrad hurled himself into Major Bludd, taking the Englishman by surprise, attacking his own countryman with savage desperation. Within a few seconds, Major Bludd had the younger man by his throat, "I shall enjoy killing you, for that was not a wise choice of action. My organization, Cobra, could have used you or the survivors in return for your lives, but you foolishly attacked me, and that should have consequences. So maybe I'll give your lovely companion some medical treatment after I bury you…"
Conrad had dug into his pocket, digging out the lighter that he quietly ignited and stuck into Major Bludd's eye. "AAGGH!!" he shouted in agony, writhing on the ground as Conrad ran to Kitty's side.
"It's alright, I'll get you some help. You're gonna be fine." Conrad said, desperately trying to reassure Kitty that everything would be all right.
"Conrad, it's okay. I'm not going to make it." Kitty said, drifting away.
"No, you're going to make it. I swear you will." Conrad said.
"You tried your best, thank you for getting me this far…" she said as her eyes began to close.
Conrad stayed with her the rest of the night as Major Bludd wandered through the underbrush, nursing his burnt eye. He was no threat for now. He joined the Foreign Legion a month after lying low in the streets, managing to scrounge enough money to buy a plane ticket to Paris.
~ ~ ~ ~
"Section Eight?" Lifeline said.
The man turned, the look of haunted exhaustion on his face. "Come on, let's get you back to the truck. You're in pretty bad shape."
For once, Section Eight complied.
~ ~ ~ ~
"So how did you come by that eye patch?" the Baroness asked Major Bludd, as they were pulling off their arms deal.
"I got stabbed in the eye with a lighter here in Bayville when we attacked a mansion harboring mutants." Major Bludd replied.
"What have you got against mutants anyway?" Destro asked.
"I didn't have anything to do with the riot that destroyed Xavier's mansion, but I had everything to do with arming that mob. They had the motivation, I supplied their weapons." Major Bludd replied, "I just want this one mutant, Conrad Hart, who took out my eye five years ago. I want him dead."
To be continued…
~ ~ ~ ~
Author's Note: Any questions you may have resulted from my not having seen the GI Joe series in a long time and relying solely on my fragmented memory and a couple fansites. Please place any other questions, complements, comments, and flames (which will be promptly ignored) on the review area.