***
"Professor Atilla is a reformed criminal and scientist, formally held in
Stonewall maximum security prison, she now works at Blackwater in an
effort to help other misguided super-scientists see the error of their
ways. Flax-weaving is just how she does that," Hector told the camera
as he turned with it to face a hall full of Blackwater's criminals.
They were busy working at tables, weaving flaxes together into routine
patterns.
Atilla was an attractive latin woman, in her early thirties, with thick-rimmed glasses
not unlike the prison warden's. The sight of her made him nervous,
particularly the beauty spot which clung suspiciously to her cheek.
Although she wore a violet skirt and blouse, with tights that gave her
legs an attractive varnish, there was something about her that put him
on edge.
The camera tracked along the many heads bobbing up and down as the
criminals worked with varying speeds on their bags and baskets. They
were following the demonstration Atilla had given them earlier, and she
had encouraged them to try and be inventive with their own designs.
Hector wound his way between the tables with two guards, Atilla and Tom
not far behind.
"How does flax-weaving help the criminal psyhe, Professor Atilla?"
"It helps in a number of ways, Hector" she began, "It gives them
something constructive to do. It is a repetitive, yet fully absorbing
task ideal to minimise boredom. It exercises the brain's creativity and
emphasises the need to contribute and build, not destroy."
"Oh Atilla. I've missed you my sweet," came a creepy voice from one of
the tables.
Hector quickly noted it was one of the lab-coated villains from the
high-security wing -- Dr. Lucifer. The man balding man was looking
longingly up at Professor Aitlla from his seat at the nearest table. He
held up a flaxwork heart, neatly criss-crossed with scientific
precision. Atilla didn't accept it, looking down at him with contempt.
"You worm, Lucifer. Can't you do any better than that?" she asked
coldly.
"Won't you say you love me, we could be so evil together," he muttered
as he threw the flax heart aside.
"Never. I've reformed. You should to," she told him and began walking
off to the next table.
Hector paused before following, "Lucifer isn't your real name is it?"
"My real name is Dr. David Evil, but there is a copyright problem with
my surname due to a movie, so I had to market myself with a pseudonym,"
Lucifer shrugged.
Hector tried to nod as sincerely as he could before hurriedly joining
Atilla at Cobra Commander's table. The world's most dangerous and
unscrupulous man was sitting quietly with his hands on his lap under the
table, and apparently staring unflinchingly at the stack of flax piled
in front of him. He did not even acknowledge the camera, seemingly
unaware of it, despite Tom dashing round to the otherside of the table.
Tom was able to work Atilla and Ramirez into the shot and get a good
look at the professor's cleavage which Hector was inadvertently gawking
at.
"You are not taking part, Commander." Atilla stated, rather than asked.
There was a silence that followed her question. Cobra Commander would
not answer. But for Hector it was the realization that Atilla was
staring at him, that prompted him into action. He tore his eyes away
from her blouse and tried to think of a question. "Commander, have you
ever done flax-weaving before?"
Without moving, the blue-costumed villain spoke, "I am not doing
anything until my request to be transssferred to Stonewall Prison is
cleared."
"Why don't you at least try weaving something. It can't be any worse
than sitting here doing nothing. Surely?" the professor asked begging
reason.
After ten long seconds of waiting, and being presided over by Atilla,
who tapped her fingers against folded arms in wait, the Cobra Commander
finally reached forward and picked up a piece of flax. He twiddled it
thoughtfully in his hands. He bent it into an arch either way and then
tapped it lightly against the table in gentle whips. He ran his gloved
fingers along the flax, like he were weighing up whether it was worth
his time.
"It's the finest tropical flax, Commander. I especially set aside the
best for you," she lied. She knew the ruse of the best flax may be the
encouragement he needed to hear.
***
"It is the fourth day of Cobra Commander's stay in Blackwater Prison.
His request to be moved to Stonewall, which he believed would be quote
'saner' unquote, was barred by the prison warden. This has lead to the
Commander becoming increasingly hostile and spending long hours pounding
the plexi-glass of his cell, with his stool. He is due for trial in
two days, and will stand for his numerous crimes against humanity.
Finally being brought to justice. . . Or will he? We, at Twenty
Questions were skeptical, and predicted a possible release on
technicality through the legal firm with which Cobra Commander has often
been associated -- Extensive Enterprises. But events that were to take
place this day were beyond even what we could have predicted."
Cobra Commander picked up the letter that the guard had pushed into his
cell, through the slot in the door. Tom zoomed up close and personal as
the Commander tore the envelope open and quickly unfolded the note
inside. Hector fidgeted impatiently and finally spoke up as the
Commander sat down to read.
"Who is it from, Commander? A secret admirer perhaps?"
"It's from my loyal and faithful minions. . . er lackeysss. . . er
underlingsss. . ." the Commander started to sound frustrated. Finally
with hesitation, he decided that for the viewing public they would
henceforth be known as his "toadiesss."
"What does it say?" Hector eagerly asked.
"Dear Cobra Commander," he read aloud, "Do not fear, your liberation
isss at hand. . . Cobra can't function without your stupendousss
leadership. . . crumble into ruin. . . cat hasn't been fed. . . Baroness
in tears. . . etcetera."
Hector gave the camera a puzzled look and turned back to the Commander,
"It sounds like they really miss you. What is your relationship with
your 'toadies' like? Do you consider any to be friends?"
Cobra Commander put down the piece of paper and picked up his flax hand
basket. He put it's strap over his arm like he was about to go
shopping, yet remained seated. "Friendsss? Oh. We get on sssuperbly.
People may think we squabble a lot, but it's really jussst our way of
showing how much we care for each other. Destro is almost like a second
cousin to me. Zartan isss like a half-brother. The Dreadnoks are like
my little step-kids, and the Baroness is that person who looks after
everyone and does the cleaning up."
"A mother?"
"I was thinking ssservant wench, but yes, that's the same thing I think," the
Commander wondered.
Hector paused and tapped his chin, "So, you are a close family?"
"No, not really. I despissse them as much as I despissse that revolting
dead ssslug perched on your upper lip," the Commander cackled.
Hector huffed angrily and stroked his neat mustache tenderly. Tom
laughed, knowing Charles would keep that in for the final broadcast.
The reporter was able to compose himself enough to ask his next question
through clenched teeth. "Did you know your parents well?"
"No," the Commander said in a more serioues and throaty tone, "My father
was a car salesssman who never had time for me. My mother. . . well,
she worked. . . around town. Ssso I escaped them both by becoming a boy
scout at the earliest opportunity. I went on to military academy from there, and finally struck out on my own. I got where I am today without
their help, and look at me!" The Commander gave a well practised and
melodramatic cackle of evil as he stood up and struck a suitable pose
while his handbag jiggled about at his side. "I control the largest
terrorist organization in the world! I've held the world to ransom more
timesss than a than I've succeeded!"
Ramirez tried not to smirk, "What about love? Have you ever been in
love? Will there ever be a Mrs. Commander with whom you could awake the
slither of tiny Vipers."
"Love is absolutely sickening to endure, and the mushy talk . . . utter
and pure drivel!! Once I am supreme ruler -- princep of the Earth -- I
will need an Empress with whom to create a lasting dynasty. But
presently, I'm quite content with the Baroness as my consort."
"I see. I thought she was with Destro?"
"Oh yes. She's with Destro. Uh. . . edit this part out will you?"
"Fat chance," smiled Hector.
Cobra Commander looked at the clock in the hallway outside and then
shrugged, "Is that camera waterlogged?"
"Yes, why do you ask?"
***
Cutting back to the studio, Hector gave the camera a hard and very
concerned look. "What you are about to see, may be too violent for
small children and old women. We strongly advise parental guidance, and remind all
viewers that what you will be seeing is absolutely real and not in the slightest bit hammed up or acted."
Hector turned to the monitor in the studio and the camera switched to
the video feed of the scene in the prison cell block. An explosion
rocked the wall, suddenly the camera was consumed in a thick atmosphere
of smoke with peices of debris flying everywhere. Hector Ramirez
chirped in for the viewers benefit.
"What you are witnessing is an explosion in the wall to the back of
Cobra Commander's cell. The grey smoke makes it hard to make things
out, but as you can see, we have highlighted the shape of the Commander
in this slow motion replay. You can see him ducking beneath his bed
directly before the explosion occurs. A gaping hole is punctured
through by the force of the blast, and only moments after the dark
shapes of four men are seen entering into the cell to extricate the
Commander."
"By zooming in with digital technology, we are able to enhance the
pictures of their weaponry which. . . are a motely assortment of a
buzzsaw, flame torch, bayonette and harpoon gun. These are extremely
dangerous close-combat weapons, belonging to the mercenary 'band' known
as the Dreadnoks."
The figures on the video became clearer as the smoke began to dissipate,
and their rag-tag uniforms could be seen as they lead the Commander out
through the hole in the wall. A second explosion was heard though very
faintly and far off camera, while the sprinkler system turned the
hallway into a wet city street. Guards splashed and slipped past the
camera in the rain, struggling with keys in the door to open the cell.
Shouts filled the air as more guards came onto the scene in the
confusion and cries of concern and abuse spewed forth from the
neighboring cells.
"A second explosion occured some ten seconds after the first, and blew a
hole in the airboat hangar on the otherside of the prison. Both blasts
were from rocket propelled grenade launchers, that's RPGs. The first
was carried out with surgical precision on the outer wall at the weakest
point nearest the Commander's cell, while the second was fired by
another accomplice on the opposite side of the prison in order to trap
pursuit vessels inside the base. Your intrepid reporter was unable to
follow as--"
Hector went dead silent with shock as the video showed him screaming and
running in the opposite direction of the escaping prisoner. Hector
coughed, narrating on live TV. "--So I sought help."
There was a murmur of laughter in the studio, which caused Hector to
shift anxiously in his seat. He anxiously continued his narration, "A
G.I. Joe WHALE hovercraft arrived outside the prison in response to a
distress call from the warden. With this reporter aboard, it sped off
in pursuit of Cobra Commander."
Hector watched and felt his pride returning as the camera wobbled and
jerked about while Tom chased after him onto the WHALE. Unable to waste
time arguing with the reporter and camera man, Cutter pulled the
hovercraft away from the walkway. Cutter glanced at his new passengers
briefly before turning back to his wheel and the river ahead. "We all
have a job to do. Mine happens to be recapturing the Cobra Commander.
Yours is filming it. If you get in my way, then the aligators will be
dining on something extra tastey tonight. Clear?"
Ramirez nodded, but Cutter wasn't even looking. He sped up into gear,
causing Ramirez to stumble over and clutch the deck panels for his
life. The Swamp Skiers that the Dreadnoks were on were sighted in the
distance as the WHALE entered the under the canopy of the dark swamp.
They were too far to exchange fire with yet, but slowly the WHALE was
gaining.
"As we followed them deep into the swamp's of Blackwater, we realized
the Dreadnoks, on their smaller vehicles were trying to lead us into a
densely vined area which would have been impassable to a vehicle of the
WHALE's size. If G.I. Joe was going to stop these thugs, it had to be
now."
The WHALE swerved violently around a bend in the river, sending a tidal
wave of water into the trees and nearly knocking everyone off. Hector
found himself slide uncontrollably over the side of the WHALE and his
feet hit the hover cover. Hector struggled to cling to the side of the
WHALE and keep himself from falling into the river, to be forgotten
about by all but the restless 'gators. He turned with shock to see
Cobra Commander was alongside him on a Swamp Skier piloted by Zartan.
He reached for his mike and held it close to his mouth over the roar of
the engines.
"Cobra Commander, one final question. . . where is Cobra going from
here? What can we expect?" Hector shouted.
Changes," Cobra Commander shouted across from the skier as he clung to
Zartan's shoulders. "Expect Cobra to be dramatically restructured. It
will not resemble the Cobra of before. Another thing is that we will
premiere a whole new series of high-tech vehicles. They will reflect the
big upwards shift in the nature of the G.I.Joe/Cobra conflict. A
conflict that we shall win! Expect flourescent colors and franchising of the 'Viper' name within our new units."
Hector gulped as the Commander pointed a gun at Hector's head and
readied to pull the trigger. Cross Country made a flying leap and
caught Hector by the hand just as the reporter was about to slip and
fall into the aligator infested waters. Hauling him back up onto the
deck, Cross Country yelled for him to sit up with Cutter and stop
fooling around. Gung Ho fired several shots at Zartan's Swamp Skier,
causing the mercenary to speed off ahead for his own safety and for his
passenger. Cobra Commander, laughed and screamed, "Cobraaaaaaa!" as
they disappeared into the jungle of vines.
"Having a brush with death, I was content to remain seated for the
duration of the pursuit. Up ahead the Dreadnoks were now within range
of G.I. Joe's guns and a firefight began which lit up the shadowed swamp
like the you'd expect, I suppose... The Dreadnoks, with Cobra Commander however,
created a cliched smokescreen which we could not follow into without risk of
crashing. Once it had cleared, they were long gone."
***
Back in the studio, Hector looked seriously at the camera. "So ends our
feature on Cobra Commander. A man who rightly told us from the
beginning that he would not be held in captivity for long. Blackwater
Prison's security measures are to be reviewed by the Pentagon over the
next month, but could anywhere truely hold this man? At Twenty
Questions we believe not. Though Cobra Commander is gone for now, we
know we shall hear from him again. Until the threat of Cobra is truly
destroyed, this is Hector Ramirez. Goodnight."