Author's Notes:
This is set in the same AU as most of my other stories, but other than the fact it's pure speculation, I think it would work just fine in the Hama comics's universe, too.
Billy treated his dad to his best puppy dog eyes. "You PROMISED!" he complained.
The Cobra Commander narrowed his eyes at the boy. He did not like to be contradicted, and he did not want his own son to be begging; such things were beneath them. "I made no promise," he hissed. "Now save what is left of your dignity and drop the matter. You are 8 years old, not 2."
Billy swallowed and nodded. He knew a lost battle when he saw one. "Yes, Father."
The Commander gripped his son's shoulder affectionately and left the boy's room. Storm Shadow materialized next to him in the hallway and, as per his usual habit, made no comment.
"You have to be firm with children," the Commander declared. "Imagine! As if I have time for a movie night! Besides, it's nearly impossible to find movies that won't warp his mind. Books are a bit easier, a lot of classics are acceptable. But the movies for rent these days? Nothing but 'Ambition is Evil and Evil Always Loses' drivel!"
The ninja muttered a monosyllable answer. The Commander demanded he not be ignored as part of the ninja's contract with him, but it was not usually worth the effort to get him to actually have a conversation with him.
He sighed and dropped the matter from his mind. He had been looking forward to this evening, he wasn't going to let Billy ruin it.
Billy could hear his father's muffled voice once he left his room and although he couldn't make out the words, he could tell his old man was ranting at his bodyguard again. Probably about him.
He sighed loudly and plopped on his bed with a muffled thump. This was totally unfair. He'd been looking forward to a movie all week, he was willing to watch any movie his father picked – it didn't even have to be a cartoon! He just wanted A movie. He wasn't allowed TV or movies very often, but he really liked it. Reading was good, but seeing the stories for real was really cool.
He abruptly sat back up, jaw set and brow furrowed: he wasn't going to stand for this. He was always very good, doing everything he was asked and doing his best at it, he deserved a little reward now and again. His father had just said he was too busy, right? That didn't mean he, Billy, couldn't watch a movie on his own. He had all his homework and chores done, it wasn't like he had anything he needed to be doing tonight, and he wasn't going to bother anybody.
He tip toed out of his room and looked up and down the short corridor of what he thought of as Home. It was the section of the base where his father and himself lived, and not many other people were allowed in it. Sure enough, the hall was empty. Billy relaxed slightly: convinced as he was he wasn't doing anything wrong, he wasn't quite as sure that his Dad would see things the same way. It was better all around if he didn't get caught.
He made it to the main hallway without problem; it was evening, so there wasn't a lot of people who were out and about even in the more public areas of the fortress. He looked left and the course was clear. He looked right and the course was also clear. He stopped: he had no idea where to find a movie. He knew what the tapes looked like, and he was pretty sure he'd be able to work the machine in his living room, but he didn't have a clue where the movies were kept on base.
He was still trying to decide which way to go when he heard the screams. He grinned: there was no battle going on, so screams had to come from a movie or a tv show. He had caught a glimpse once of a tv room for the troops and although he couldn't remember the way there, he did remember seeing a shelf full of movies in there for the troops to pick from. If he was lucky, he'd be able to slip in, grab a tape and slip out with nobody noticing because they would all be too busy watching the screen.
He followed the noise. The troops seemed to be watching a particularly violent horror movie; that was all right, it wasn't the kind he wanted anyway. Since he'd be able to pick out his own after all, he was hoping to find a cartoon movie. The volume steadily increased until he found the door behind which the screams were coming from.
He opened the door by just an inch to peek in, wanting to make sure nobody could see him.
The Commander grinned under his mask as he applied the burning hot poker to his prisoner's naked thigh, one inch above where it had been a moment before. The man held for nearly three seconds, tears streaming from his eyes from this injury and all the previous ones, before he started screaming again. The Commander left the rod in place for another five seconds before removing it, leaving the flesh behind sizzling.
"Names," the Commander hissed. "Every traitor who sold your organization information on mine." It was the eight time he'd asked this particular man. He intended to ask twice more before killing him and picking a new one from the remaining prisoners. To his left, Venom was poking at the exposed brain of the captive he was questioning, the Commander suspected more for his own personal research than for convincing the man to talk. To his right, the Baroness was on her third prisoner, using various toys to try and convince him to reveal where his employer might be found. She had already killed off two men, far quicker than was strictly efficient. It didn't matter much, however: they had captured 34. If anything, she was providing the 32 that were left with a bit more incentive to talk.
Off to the side, Storm Shadow was keeping an eye on everything to make sure none of the prisoners managed to slip free of their bonds and to make trouble before the troops noticed them and shot them. The ninja had only agreed to be present at all because their prisoners were part of another terrorist group, and the Commander hadn't wanted to try his bodyguard's irritating morals by making him participate. He might have in any other circumstance, just for the fun of it, but tonight, it would only have been a distraction from the festivities.
Unbeknownst to him, the ninja would not have minded; the group who had incurred the Commander's wrath was not only as rotten as Cobra, they had been intent on ending Cobra, which made them a threat to his goals and automatic enemies. He was therefore being very attentive, intent on catching lies and half truths when the prisoners started yielding to the torture and talking.
Focused as he was, he didn't notice the door opening. He heard a small gasp and turned in time to see it close, and narrowed his eyes. That had been the Commander's spawn, and there was no way the Commander would believe his ninja hadn't noticed his boy spying on them when he found himself having to explain what had been going on. He walked to the Commander and tapped his shoulder.
The Commander, who had been about to administer the final burn to his prisoner before killing him, this one on an area far more sensible than thighs, was not pleased to be interrupted. "WHAT?" He screamed.
"Your son was just at the door, watching," Storm Shadow reported. "I don't know for how long, I only noticed when he gasped."
The Commander stood frozen for a second, debating. Billy should not have seen the torture, he wasn't ready for that level of truth. But he could hardly stop in the middle of what he was doing and he needed at least a bit of time to come up with a fable, so the boy would have to wait for his punishment for sneaking around and for his dose of reassuring lies. "Never mind for now," he hissed. "Back to your post."
Storm Shadow bowed and did as told. How the Commander raised his child was none of his business – he had his own family to worry about. The fact the Commander even had a child to raise was disturbing, but it would have been unfair to assume the kid a threat already and eliminate him, not to mention unnecessary and potentially a source of trouble. Tommy's standing policy about the fact the Commander was raising an heir was to avoid thinking about it; he'd deal with it when Cobra junior became a problem.
Billy was back in his room before he became aware of what he was doing again. He dimly wondered whether he had screamed or slammed the door shut or anything else that would get him caught.
The screams, now that he knew they were not part of a movie, seemed a lot louder and scarier. He thought he could still hear them from all the way here. He pressed his hands against his ears but it made no difference, he could hear them just as clearly as when he'd been right by the door.
He could still smell the air in that room, too. He wasn't sure what the smell actually was: it was like a bunch of bad things together, including something burning. Whatever it was, it was horrible. He dipped his nose down as low as he could to block it, and when that didn't work, he sat on the floor and curled up to bury his nose in his knees. It didn't help at all: the stench was just as overwhelming as it had been from right next to it.
As if to punish him for even trying to ignore the sounds and the smell, what he had seen imposed itself on his mind again, the images very sharp and detailed, as though they had been engraved right into his brains in the few seconds before he'd run away.
The room was a big one he hadn't seen before, with cement floor, walls and no proper ceiling to hide the pipes and stuff. The lights were just naked bulbs on chains dangling from between the pipes, and they were very bright. Maybe that was why everything looked so bright and crisp.
There was a whole bunch of prisoners. Two were just thrown into a corner and looked dead. They had burns on them, and really big cuts. One of them had had his hand cut off. Billy had tried not to look, and yet he could see them clearly now, as if he'd been staring and trying real hard to remember it. He had seen some white in bloody stump of the missing hand: a bone.
The Commander, the Baroness and the creepy Doctor were in the middle of torturing three more people. The Doctor had cut the head of his opened and Billy had been able to see the prisoner's brains, but the guy was still alive anyway, screaming. The other prisoners, a lot of them, were tied up, just waiting for their turn. And for some reason, every last one of them was naked. Billy didn't know why that was, but he felt that probably made it even worse for them. Maybe that WAS why.
He whimpered as a particularly vivid image of the Commander holding a poker on his prisoner's leg, making him scream and cry, came to mind. It superimposed on the sounds, the smells and the other images that wouldn't go away, and the whole of it felt like Billy was not only still at the door, but right in the middle of it.
After a while, he didn't know how long, his head snapped back up and he jumped back to his feet, his heart hammering in his chest. What was he doing? He had to get moving, he had to escape. He'd be next otherwise. The Commander would be after him next, he just knew it.
He looked around; he was in a bedroom, which meant there might be some warm clothes he could wear outside. He rushed to the closet and yanked the door opened, but there was nothing of use there, it was all just shirts and pants. A shame too: they looked his size.
The idea that it was odd for someone his size to have a bedroom in Cobra's base did not cross his mind; his thoughts were all centered on getting out, and getting out fast. He went back to the door to the hallway and inched it opened. He poked his head out and looked around cautiously, then ducked back inside. There was nobody in the hallway, which was a blessing because he had no clue what he would have done if someone had seen him poking his head out like that.
This was no good. He needed a plan in case he was spotted, and looking like he was afraid to be seen was probably the worst thing he could do. He had to be smart, he was the future.
The thought seemed to have come out of nowhere. Billy stood stunned for a moment; he was the future? The future of what? He was just an escaped prisoner, and even though it was true that he needed to be smart, it was for a very simple reason: he was surrounded by Cobra. Either he managed to think his way out or he'd die and be tortured first.
A wave of panic washed over him, leaving him shaking. He hugged himself and clenched his jaw. He could do this: he was the future, he was Cobra.
He gasped, slapping his hand on his mouth as though he had said the words rather than merely thought them. He shuddered violently. What was wrong with him? Why would he think something like that? He had nothing to do with Cobra, except that he needed to get away from them and fast. He tried to think back on the last couple of days, wondering whether someone had already messed with his head, but he couldn't remember anything else than a bunch of people getting tortured.
He shuddered and took a few deep breaths, trying to force himself to calm down enough to think. He was incredibly lucky he hadn't been found yet, he needed to get moving. If someone had already messed with his head, well that was that. He had a chance to get away before they did it again, at least.
He needed to get out without the troops stopping him. If he was seen, it was all over, so he basically needed to play hide and seek. Run from one hiding spot to the next and hope for the best.
Thankfully since he would have lost his nerve and panicked had he known, Billy remained completely unaware that he kept being spotted by troopers as he ran through the base, looking for a way out. The troopers hadn't received any instruction that the Commander's son was to be restrained in his movements around the base tonight so they just ignored him, assuming he was just playing.
Billy eventually found the marina. It was closed off from the ocean by heavy doors which he knew went all the way down to the ocean floor sloping away from the island's coast, about ten feet underwater in that spot. The fact that he knew stopped him in his tracks. He had no reason to know that; it wasn't something Cobra would tell prisoners. He swallowed and felt panic taking hold of him again; it felt like a cold wave starting somewhere between his heart and his stomach and spreading through his whole body, while at the same time his brains refused to think about anything else than how scared he was.
He was thankfully hiding behind a large storage box when this happened, and was safe while he got himself back under control. It didn't mean anything. He already knew there was something wrong with him because he couldn't remember actually being captured or anything from his life before that. It didn't matter as long as he got away. He'd get better. Probably. It wasn't like whatever was wrong hurt or anything, either. He could deal. He was brave, the future leader of the World had to be.
He groaned at the nonsensical thought and putting his hands on his temple, shook his head in a vain attempt to shake the crazy stuff out of there. Why did he keep thinking he was some important future person? He was a runaway from Cobra, he wasn't a future anything. He didn't know for sure he'd even survive to be a grown up.
He needed to focus on escaping on a boat. That meant getting on board of one and either driving it himself or stowing away. He didn't think driving himself would work: he didn't know how, he didn't have keys – he thought the boats may need them, although he wasn't sure – and he'd never be able to get the wall to open because he had zero idea how to do that.
That left stowing away. He didn't like that idea much either because he was pretty sure the whole of Cobra would be searching for him by now. There was no way they would let him escape and tell people about the island and what was going on if they could help it, so they had to be trying hard to keep him from escaping. If they started seriously searching the boats, it didn't matter how well he was hiding, they'd find him. He needed to be away from here before they started doing that.
The fact that if the boats were being searched, any boat who had just left the island would be contacted and told to look for him or to come back, or both, didn't occur to him. Convinced as he was that speed would make all the difference, he took a deep breath and poked his head out from his hiding spot to look around.
He quickly identified a boat about to leave, thankfully close to where he was: vipers were busy putting stuff in it and another one was untying it from the dock. Billy raked his brains trying to find a way to sneak in but came up blank until the intercom kicked in. The voice of the Commander boomed out of it, giving some kind of speech on Cobra, and every last viper in the marina stopped what they were doing and faced the speaker, their right hand on their heart.
Billy knew he'd never get another chance like that. He tiptoed behind the vipers as quick as he could and ducked inside the nearly fully loaded boat. Without thinking, running on the instinct to put distance and obstacles between himself and the vipers, he headed towards the other end of the boat and when he saw a flight of stairs heading below deck, he took it. He could still hear the Commander's amplified voice, but he didn't want to take any chance on the speech ending before he'd found a place to hide, so he started opening cupboards, looking for one that was either empty or almost and big enough for him to fit in.
He quickly started to panic: everything he opened was full of stuff. When the Commander's voice stopped, Billy froze. He heard muffled thumps and steps and felt the boat move as troopers started up again on loading boxes on the boat. He swallowed back a whimper and started opening cupboards faster.
He nearly didn't believe his eyes when he finally found a small cupboard, barely big enough for him, with nothing but a small, dusty bundle of rope in it. He hurriedly crawled in and closed the door again, hoping his heart wasn't as loud as it sounded to him and wouldn't give him away.
The rope was digging into his legs, and he couldn't move at all without bumping into the walls. It was miserable and it got worse when the boat started rocking and swaying: Billy was repeatedly bumped against the walls until he spread his legs as much as he could and stuck out his elbows, pushing back against the wall to steady himself.
He was sore enough to cry by the time he felt a thud and the boat stopped. He wasn't sure how long they had been moving; it had felt like hours, but Cobra Island was only a bit over an hour out from Springfield for the supply boats. He had no idea how and why he knew that, and he was too scared and in too much pain to care.
There was a lot of movement from the troops on board. Judging by the noise, they were unloading the cargo. There wasn't much conversation: a few orders barked here and there, the occasional call for caution or to move out of someone's way, and nothing else. The troops were being a well oiled efficient machine, or they were just as tired as Billy felt and didn't feel like chatting.
He waited, not daring to move a muscle, his heart stopping each time someone walked by his cupboard or worse, stopped near it. He clenched his jaw and focused on his breathing to keep himself from making any noise as his imagination supplied him with a dozen of scenarios where he was found and taken prisoner again, brought to the torture chamber and handed to either the Commander, the Baroness or Venom. Controlling his shaking was another story, and he nearly lost it when he heard his elbow knock lightly on the inside of the cupboard door. Finally moving, he wrapped his arms around his knees as tight as he could and lowered his head as low as it would go, basically turning himself into a tight ball. He concentrated on breathing slowly and normally, desperately trying to avoid whimpering or moaning. After a while, he noticed there didn't seem to be anymore troop movement on the boat.
Geoff Martin looked up when the door to his pub, the Harbour Pit Stop, opened on a group of Cobra Vipers. He grinned at the newcomers, straightening up. He'd been leaning on the bar, reading a paper, killing time in the lull between dinner time and the late night crowd.
The grin wasn't fake: the boys from the Island were always welcomed in Springfield. The fact they always had money to burn was just gravy.
"Well good evening boys!" he called out. "Done for the night, eh? What can I get y'all?"
"Can't stay long," one of boys said, pulling down his mask. Geoff guessed his age at less than 25. "Couple pitchers and some nachos."
The other five nodded absently and crashed down at the nearest tables. They looked younger than the one who had spoken.
Geoff hummed happily as he filled two pitchers with Arbco beer. Thanks to Cobra, there was no need to mess around with IDs or to stop working lads from having one harmless drink. "I'll get your nachos, now," he said as he dropped the pitchers and glasses at their tables. "Do you need the blinds up tonight so you can keep an eye on your boat?"
"Nah," the senior trooper said, pouring his drink. "Stuff's locked up in the warehouse already. Nothing left in there worth anything for the resistance to steal."
"Scum" Martin scoffed, shaking his head. He left for the kitchen to put together some nachos, cursing under his breath at pack of fools that resistance was. Didn't know a good thing when it bit them in the arse.
Back on the boat, Billy held his breath, listening with all his might. Other than the waves sloshing against the hull, the boat was completely silent.
He hesitated. He couldn't be sure that there weren't a few troopers left, just being quiet. He pictured crawling out of the cupboard to find himself surrounded by troopers who had just been reading or something. His breathing started threatening to turn to whimpers again and he tightened his hold on his knees a bit more.
He couldn't just stay here forever. He needed to go pee, for one thing, and if he went in his pants, someone might smell it. Or maybe there'd be so much of it he'd make a puddle that would leak right out of the cupboard. Besides, he'd eventually starve if he just stayed in here forever, and that's only if he wasn't found first.
It was possible there were still people on the boat, but he'd never be able to tell one way or another until he got out. And if there was nobody here, it might not last. Now might be his one and only chance to escape.
The thought spurred him. He swallowed and, resisting the strong temptation to squeeze his eyes shut, opened the door of the small cupboard.
Nothing happened. He could see a small section of the room the cupboard was in now, and in that section at least, there was nobody. He swallowed again and extracted himself from the cupboard as quickly as he could.
He then tried to stand up and immediately fell down; his legs were stiff and he felt vaguely dizzy. Other than that, however, nothing happened.
The boat really was empty. Unaware he'd been holding it, Billy let out his breath and tried to stand up again, this time leaning against the wall. He started to climb the stairs as quickly as he dared, listening very hard the whole time and fighting against the sensation that this was all a dream. He encountered absolutely no one and unbelieving, found himself standing on the pier with still nobody around to stop him.
The thought that he should try not to look suspicious crossed his mind, but now that he was so close to freedom, he felt more terrified than ever. He couldn't really have escaped Cobra; they were about to catch him again, they had to be. They'd have a good laugh at how he thought he could run away from them and they'd bring him back to the torture room with the others. He suddenly pictured himself with his head sliced opened and Venom poking at his brains and just managed not to scream.
He took off running in a random direction, it didn't matter which way so long as it was away from the boat. The thought didn't occur to him that the crew had to be somewhere and that he could be running towards them; if it had, he would probably have frozen on the spot, unable to decide which way to go.
Inside the Harbour's Pit Stop, the radio was blaring a popular tune and the troopers, now on their fourth pitcher of beer, were singing along, replacing the lyrics with jokes about various high ranking members of Cobra. Geoff Martin was smiling indulgently: boys would be boys. He thought he heard some running outside and looked up at the door, but either he had heard wrong or whoever was out there was heading somewhere else: nobody came in.
He shrugged it off and by the time the Vipers got a call on their radio about a runaway, he had forgotten all about the mysterious runner he had heard.
Fin
Author's Notes
Now that you've read through this thing, if you'd like to see a much happier and cuter depiction of Billy's childhood, including a Storm Shadow that actually interacts with him, I recommend Father Dearest by Kusari-Gama 61602.
Thanks for reading! And please review, I love feedback!