A Call to Duty.


She sat on a park bench near the base of the Lincoln Memorial, waiting. She hadn't received any instructions, but she knew he would come. She was not disappointed when moments later a figure sat beside her.

"You look good, Lady Jaye."

"I try to keep up, General." In truth, she never could break herself of her strict exercise habit.

Hawk produced a packet of papers. "You ready for this?"

She glanced sideways at him, but didn't answer.

"Lady Jaye," Hawk said calmly. "You're the best of the best. I wouldn't contact you if I didn't think it was absolutely necessary. But don't accept these papers if you cannot commit completely. Walk away if you have to, no questions asked."

He smiled warmly as she took the papers from him without hesitation. "Your re-enlistment papers are there as well."

Silently, she reached into her jacket pocket and produced her old dog tags. Idly, she ran her fingers over the metallic bumps that marked her identity.

"The others?" she asked, glancing back at the general.

He slapped her comfortably on the back, not noticing her tense at the gesture. "We're working on reassembling the Joe team as we speak. Everything will be ready upon your return for the debriefing."

She stood then, clutching the packet of information Hawk handed her. Glancing at the sitting statue of Abraham Lincoln, she sighed. She sighed for the return of the purpose she craved, she sighed for the memories, the good and the bad, and she sighed for her country. They had all told her she'd miss the life when she declined to reenlist after the disbanding of the team, but they didn't know the real reason she had refused their offer. Only one did. And she hadn't spoken to him in years.

With a shake of her head, she realized that by accepting this package, she was walking right back into the lion's den. The Joes had been her life, and she hadn't found peace since. So here she was, back where it all began. Back where her life was waiting for her.

Hawk stood as well. "Welcome back, Lady Jaye," he said, offering his hand for her to shake.

She cast her eyes to the general's outstretched hand. She would have suspected a salute was more in order, but realized the handshake was more of an indication of respect than a proper military procedure. This was serious. Alison shook his hand confidently, her momentary reverie forgotten. "I won't disappoint you."


A half-eaten dinner sat cold in the hotel room, as Alison poured over the contents of the envelope handed to her earlier in the day. The renowned precision that was in part responsible for landing herself on the Joe team in the first place came back as second nature, and she lay sprawled on the bed scouring over the papers, taking in everything she could.

'This is new,' she thought, as she realized the target wasn't the Cobra of yore, but rather a small band of suspected mutant renegades. But she realized it made perfect sense if all those analysts predicting war were on the right track.

Her target for surveillance was a small school in Westchester, New York, set up for "gifted" children. Mutant children, the government suspected. Apparently, the government was just as torn as the country, and when this school somehow drew attention to itself, the Jugglers decided it was important enough to call in the big guns. And in the world of the United States military, there were no bigger guns than the Joe team, even if the team had been deactivated for five years.

She briefly wished she paid more attention to the reports she'd seen on the television, but now there wasn't any time for that. Mutant-human relations were the current "hot topic" in the media frenzy and did little to assuage any fears of the average viewer. Alison learned a long time ago that any 3rd-party fear mongerer like the media served little purpose when it came to the real truth of the situation. She'd learn all she needed to know first hand, or at least through the intelligence she now held in her hands.

Scanning over the intelligence already gathered about the school, she chuckled softly to herself when she realized suspected telepaths worked at the school, one of whom actually ran it. She sat in thought for a moment, wondering how she'd pull this off with telepaths present. With a slight smile, she realized her first assignment was to attend a month long rigorous training session to learn how to block telepaths' probes into her mind. She doubted their effectiveness, but realized their importance if she was to pull off this assignment.

Setting the docket aside, she pondered the ramifications of all that she was entering into again. She, like David, wondered if he would be there. She hadn't seen or spoken to him in nearly five years, when they broke off their relationship. 'Well,' she thought silently to herself, 'I broke it off.' She scoffed slightly at the memories, not willing to give in to the heartbreak they gave her.

Cutting that line of thought off abruptly, she thought instead about this school for mutant children, if that is in fact what it was. The government suspected the school of training mutants for battle against humans, and the evidence in the docket supported the suspicion. It was up to her to uncover the truth, and figure out who was plotting against the human race, potentially leading the world into a civil war that no one, human or mutant, was prepared for.

Well, at least it was up to her to discover if the school in New York was a stronghold for the movement.

Settling into bed, she sighed, knowing her first training session on blocking telepaths was coming bright and early in the morning.