May 15th ,
Note to self...pizza at midnight is NOT a good idea...
I am sitting up in bed, its...oh my god its 3:30 AM...and I can't for the life of me get to sleep. Its not that I am feeling particularly lively...I'm exhausted in fact...but a late night snack is doing cartwheels in my stomach and I can't seem to get comfortable.
Log-boy, on the other hand, is out cold. Light sleeper my ass...the man could snore his way through machinegun fire! I am sorely tempted to wake him just so he can suffer along with me...I'm just not sure I can deal with the 'surly', overtired Flint that would certainly result from such an action. Yes he has stayed up with me when I have been ill or upset, sweet and supportive despite his fatigue...but this time I know all I am going to get is a gruff 'I told you so'.
It had been a long hard day, capped off by a meeting with Hawk and Stalker that lasted well into the night. As a result, I missed lunch as well as dinner and decided to make my way to the kitchen to scrape something together before I hit the sack.
There is always someone in the mess after hours...whether grabbing a midnight snack or just hanging out. Over time it has become one of the more popular social spots in the PITT next to the recreation level. The food isn't great, but every so often Roadblock or Gung Ho take over the kitchen and throw something really amazing together...and late at night it is a nice, quiet place to chat.
As expected, I wasn't the only one whose stomach was rumbling. Clutch and Shipwreck were leaning against the counter, eyeing Cover Girl as she rummaged through the super sized refrigerator. Leave it to Courtney to have the two biggest womanizers on the base chasing after her. I don't know how she stands it!
Shipwreck is a noisy, bad tempered sailor with an eye for the ladies. I once commented that if GIJOE ever disbanded he needn't worry about finding work...he is a shoe-in for the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disney! He even comes complete with a foul-mouthed parrot! Needless to say, Hector did not take kindly to this little observation, although it did manage to put a stop to his very blatant advances for a short while...
...Flint nearly breaking his jaw ended that for good.
A fierce fighter on the field, Shipwreck is hard to control and tends to make rash decisions without bothering to inform his superiors... a trait that has had him butting heads with the brass on more than one occasion. That said, any Joe who has worked with him would tell you he never lets you down in a fight. He is also the kind of guy you want around when you go out on the town...the life of the party...at least when he doesn't go overboard with the booze, which is often. I can't tell you how many times Wetsuit and Torpedo have had to carry him back to base after a particularly wild night.
Despite his volatile nature, I have a soft spot for the crusty old sailor. His heart is in the right place, and he never fails to put a smile on my face. Clutch, on the other hand, is one of the very few people in GIJOE that I cannot stand. I admire his abilities as a soldier, and I respect the fact that he is one of the original members of the team...but other than that I have no patience for him. He is the EPITOME of the male chauvinist pig, and I am surprised he hasn't yet been brought up on charges of sexual harassment.
You think I am being hypocritical, don't you? Sure, I thought Flint was just as bad when we first met, and you could say that, if anything, my relationship with him should have taught me NOT to judge a book by its cover. Problem is, I did attempt to get to know Lance better those first few months, and let me tell you if there IS a 'poet' hiding behind the attitude, it is buried so deep that it might as well not exist.
I will add that the feeling of loathing is pretty much mutual. He calls me the Ice Queen...and Lady Attitude...as well as some other choice names not fit for polite company. He did hit on me the first couple of days I was on the team but that ended quickly enough. All I needed to do was open my mouth and engage him in serious conversation and he was off running for the exit. Lance is the type of man who is intimidated by intelligent women...he likes them bubbly and beautiful. Not that Courtney is 'bubbly' by any stretch of the imagination...but lets face it...she is a super model with an obsession with cars. Clutch probably thought he had died and gone to heaven when he first saw her working on the Wolverine in the motor pool.
Courtney has him on a tight leash...this after years of beating him into submission. He acts up around her every so often but she knows exactly how to handle his type. She has been handling men like him all her life! I don't know how she does it...I think every man on the team has hit on her at one time or another...even Flint. I don't know what he was thinking. Ok...I know what he was thinking...and it had nothing at all to do with a long-term relationship. As arrogant and 'god's gift to women' as he can be, Flint is the type who needs...craves...an intelligent partner, someone he can match wits with. He would quickly grow bored with anything less, no matter what their cup size.
Courtney would have been a fling for sure.
Listen to me!!! Am I really still jealous of what 'almost' went down way back before Dash and I were even CIVIL to each other? Am I so envious of her beauty? Am I really that catty? Courtney is my FRIEND! So she isn't 'Ivy League'...so what? She is one of the strongest, most down to earth people I have ever met.
She has sworn she would never pursue a relationship with anyone she works with and so far she has stuck to her guns. You have to admire that about her. She also keeps her personal life to herself. We are close and even I don't know if she has a boyfriend back home or not!
In any case, I hung around with them for a little while...chatting with Hector and Courtney while ignoring Clutch as much as possible. Alpine and Bazooka made an appearance at one point, as well as Tripwire...and before I knew it the clock had hit midnight and I was still nibbling on the leftovers from Gung Ho's Creole Pizza night.
Spicy hot...but DELICIOUS...
Flint came looking for me soon a couple of minutes after twelve and shook his head in exasperation.
"You are going to be up all night if you eat anymore of the that, Lady Jaye..."
"...I'm hungry, and there is nothing else in the kitchen..." I said as I pointed to a room FULL of food...all of which needed to be cooked or prepared in some way.
He flashed me a lopsided grin as he grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge.
"You know...you are going to have to learn to cook one of these days..."
"I CAN cook...I'm just 'uninspired' at the moment."
"Uninspired?"
I nodded as I took another bite of my meal, ignoring his laughter.
"Well...if the kickback from that Cajun pizza sauce doesn't 'inspire' you...I don't know what will...come on, I'll walk you back to your room."
'Walk' me to my room. Even after all this time we still try to keep up appearances as much as possible, avoiding public displays of affection or any overt gestures of couple hood. It's not that the others don't know about us...you would have to have been posted to Antarctica for the past 4 or 5 years NOT to...as I have mentioned before, Flint has gone to irritatingly great lengths to mark 'his territory'. Nonetheless, he IS a high-ranking member of the team and must therefore maintain some semblance of discipline and normalcy.
Of course, it is a rare night that we do not share a bed when we finally find ourselves on base at the same time.
Oooooo...my stomach.
Christ, I haven't felt this terrible since early last month. Have you ever stopped jogging or going to the gym for any length of time and then tried to start up again? It's TOUGH...more a mental struggle than a physical one. That said, my injured lungs and ribs made the 'physical' aspect all the more challenging, as did Beachhead. The man is INSANE with a capital 'I'.
He gets results though...I am back in fine form and ready for action after only two short months. Not that I have seen any action. The only battle I have engaged in recently is with the huge pile of paperwork on my desk, and the constant struggle to keep Hawk informed of current events and advise him on appropriate courses of action.
Take this evening, for instance. I was called in to his office on very short notice to give him a situational analysis and political overview of a little country known as Wolkekuckland. It seems that our old 'friend' General Liederkranz is in need of assistance yet again.
I still remember the undercover operation that took place a few years ago in this backwater military dictatorship that neighbors Darklonia. It was one of the very few missions that saw me teamed with Flint, Scarlett and Snake Eyes...more of a big, fat double date than a reconnaissance!
We were tasked with uncovering how weapons smugglers had managed to move tons of equipment in and out of Darklonia without triggering the radar and early warning systems. Hawk and his team, in the meantime, were overseeing maneuvers along the border in the hope of training the local army to a point where they no longer needed aid to defend themselves against Darklon and COBRA. The fact that they would be purchasing some of our equipment was considered a major plus, especially for the defense contractors who supply our weapons.
Red is almost as experienced as I at undercover work, and Snake Eyes is so quiet and unobtrusive that he needn't even conceal himself. He could be standing right next to you and you would never notice! It's a creepy little ninja trick of his, very useful for ancient martial arts assassins...equally useful for Covert Ops.
Flint, on the other hand, well...he is a little harder to disguise. Not much of an actor, and always quite the 'presence' in a room...we decided that instead of making the difficult and ultimately unsuccessful attempt to get him into character and keep him there, we would use what he already had to our advantage.
If there is anything Flint can do and do well...it was play a loud, obnoxious, self-righteous, arrogant, belligerent American tourist. All we needed to do was follow his lead and play along.
We spent a day or two driving around in a flashy American sports car, upsetting the sensibilities of small town Europeans everywhere we went. Flint played his part to a tee, and was having a great time despite the fact that he was less than pleased about the transportation we had been provided.
"A Camaro...you have GOT to be kidding me..."
"It's a car Flint...a red sports car with a big engine...just like yours" I sighed as I walked over to the passenger side. He glared at me from across the hood while Scarlett tried to stop herself from laughing.
"It is NOT like my car AT ALL..."
"Is it better?" Shana asked innocently as Snakes pretended to inspect the tires. I could feel him smiling underneath the mask.
"Don't you start with me, Red...you know full well that this piece of junk couldn't hold a candle to..."
"Ok, ok...enough, Dash..." I snapped, nipping this little scene in the bud, "...just swallow your pride and get in the damn car. We have work to do."
He sulked for a good half hour after that...taking his frustration out on the border guard when we reached the station between the two countries. Obnoxious American indeed!
In fact, he played the role so well that I was beginning to wonder if I should tell him to tone it down lest he bring us under suspicion. I needn't have worried; apparently he was precisely what the locals expected of a US tourist, and they paid us no mind except for a dirty look now and again.
It didn't take us long to discover the cause of the mysterious weapons trade going across the well-manned border. After an armed confrontation with some smugglers at a local café, we kidnapped and threatened two of them (I don't know who terrified them more...Snake Eyes unmasked or Flint uncouth) until they revealed their secret.
A tunnel? Thermal baffles? Radar reflective paint?
Nope. Good old-fashioned bribery was the key to the whole operation. The two goons took us out to an early warning system outpost operated by a man named Wolfgang. If you paid him enough, he cut off the system for ten minutes.
It was as simple as that. Mind you, it was at precisely this point that our mission became a lot more complicated...
...Complicated as in being spotted by an entire COBRA convoy, at the helm of which were Cobra Commander, Darklon, Dr Mindbender and the Baroness.
COBRA STUNS vs The Camaro. It doesn't take a military genius to deduce the outcome of that confrontation!
"Did you see that? The Commander and Darklorn together!" Flint exclaimed incredulously while attempting to reload his rifle. "Fuck...everybody smile and wave! Don't make any sudden moves and keep going!"
"The Baroness is with them too..." Scarlett observed, Snakes signing away while she translated "...that means Destro can't be too far away!"
I merely shook my head, trying to piece everything together while attempting to maneuver the car through rough terrain in the dark.
"What are they doing here? How did they know the early warning system was going to be turned off?
"And why would Darklorn be making a raid on Wolkekuckland?" Flint added.
"...More than that, why would he be taking Cobra Commander and Destro's main squeeze along for the ride?" Red and he looked at each other for a moment, trying to piece together the mystery before they were jarred from their thoughts when I rammed the car headlong into a COBRA STUN.
Hell...it didn't matter that the damn thing didn't have its lights on! I was STILL teased for DAYS afterwards about my driving skills.
But I digress...
Thank god Hawk was nearby or we would have been in a bit of trouble. Apparently, he and Roadblock saw our car on the reactivated radar screen in Wolfgang's station and set out to help us out...AFTER routing the rest of Darklon's forces.
Victory was ours!
Unfortunately, the mission ended with a failing grade. Liederkranz was so impressed by the 'apparent' ability of the Pythonized COBRA products to evade radar and thermal detectors that he decided to order some from Darklon on the spot.
MARS 1, GIJOE 0.
"I keep forgetting that the type of people who want to run things never changes." Flint growled as he watched the two men shake hands.
Was he ever pissed off! Mind you, we were all feeling a bit angry, so much so that Red suggested we all relax at a local bar before 'someone' end up causing an international incident. Flint looked about ready to kill Liederkrandz with his bare hands...
The rest of the evening was a blast, and a memorable one too...for that was the night Shana and I drank Flint under the table!
Mind you, both Red and myself were a little worse for wear when Snakes finally drove us all back to camp...he never drinks...but poor Dash was worse than I have ever seen him. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
Ok...I laughed...especially when he tried to salute Hawk and promptly fell over in a heap at his feet. Serves him right though! He should have known he couldn't possibly hold alcohol like a Scot and an Irishwoman. He should have given up while he could still stand. Male pride, however, prevented him from throwing in the towel.
I am not a big drinker, although I do enjoy sharing a bottle of wine with dinner or occassionally ending the evening with a shot of good Scotch. I drink socially, and have been known to chug back a beer or three when the mood takes me. It loosens me up a bit, but I have to watch lest it break down my deepest inhibitions like it did that time in Scotland.
Not that THAT particular incident was a bad thing...if it weren't for GUINESS I probably would never have gotten together with Flint. Christ, I practically threw myself at him...and the resulting encounter was wilder than anything I had ever experienced before in my life.
No. THAT certainly wouldn't have happened had I been sober...and probably explains the glint in his eye whenever he watches me sipping a drink...the memories from that night still hot in both our minds after all this time.
Flint also enjoys a beer with the guys, and will drink when he is off duty and out on the town. He has been drunk around me, but never so much that he has had to be carried home. Usually the buzz takes him in one of two directions...he either becomes even more of an arrogant, egotistical pain in the behind OR he gets very...ummm....'affectionate' with me.
...Very, very 'affectionate'.
It really is quite the experience. If you can get him with just the right amount of alcohol in his system he becomes something of a 'wild' Don Juan...and I have to say, early on in our relationship I really looked forward to the team's nights out. As I have mentioned before, sex with Dash is fantastic...sex with uninhibited Flint is an experience you will never forget.
Its too bad he drank a little more than usual that night in Wockukerland or we might very well have had a repeat of the 'Kilt' incident. I knew he was far-gone when he began to recite to me in a deep, sensual voice...his breath hot against my skin as we rocked together on the dance floor.
"I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.
I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.
I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,
And I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue."
It was the first time he had ever 'gone poet' on me, and I was dumbfounded. I wish I could describe his voice when he reads or recites some romantic verse...but I don't think I can do it justice. The deep richness of it, the comforting rumble, the soft sensuality...it draws me in and holds me fast. I am a storyteller myself; I know the importance of tone and cadence, the difficulty in getting the words to come out just right.
Dash does it naturally...but only with me.
Only with me...
He doesn't remember what happened that night in the bar. He was so drunk Snakes had to carry him to his tent and he remained out cold until Hawk woke us all the following morning. Shana and I got a lot of mileage out of that little hiccup...especially when he came to the briefing wearing sunglasses and wincing at every sound, every movement.
No...he doesn't remember that night, and I haven't told him. I am not quite sure it actually happened as I was pretty far-gone myself at that point. In fact, it was such a very long time before I heard him recite again that I was beginning to think it was a flight of fancy on my part. Besides, I like to think of the poem after Sierra Gordo as the first, for that time the inspiration sprang from the heart and not the bottle.
He reads to me often now...when the mood takes him...and his words never fail to strike a chord. Most of the time it happens when we are lying together in bed, sometimes after we make love, sometimes before...a deep and personal twist to his habit of quoting great works.
Take the night I returned from Boston. I was sitting up in bed, exhausted but still tense from my time with the Harts...worried about everything and nothing and unable to relax...when I heard his voice.
"Already, you are mine. Rest with your dream inside my dream.
Love, grief, labour, must sleep now.
Night revolves on invisible wheels
and joined to me you are pure as sleeping amber."
"Mmmm..." I sighed in contentment, my anxiety dissipating immediately as he pulled me down into his embrace, "...who's that by?"
"Neruda..."
"Oh...the man from Il Postino!" I smiled, recognizing the name immediately but knowing that to describe him so simply would get Dash irritated.
"Allie...Pablo Neruda was one of the great poets of this century...he is hardly 'just' a character from some movie. Veinte poemas de amor y una cancion desesperada is one of the most famous collections of poetry ever written...not to mention his political activities in Chile during the 1940s were hist..."
He is so cute when he lectures!
Sigh*
He is acting quite strangely of late...not strange 'bad', just...strange. Not himself. I know something is bothering him but he dismisses my worries whenever I ask. I would force the issue but the change in him is so subtle that it could easily be an illusion caused by my own neurosis rather than some deep and hidden anxiety on his part.
Whatever it is, something isn't right. Maybe he's still sore about the whole Star Brigade debacle. Regardless of the fact he has absolutely no interest in becoming an astronaut, he was less than pleased when he failed to be selected for the team while Duke was not only chosen but made field commander. It didn't help that Roadblock was going along as well.
Is it just me or is the rivalry between the Duke and Flint getting worse and not better?
I have a meeting with the 'Golden Child' later this week. Maybe I will poke around and see what I come up with. Whatever is behind this quiet contention, it has to stop. The two of them are acting like a pair of three year olds. Ok, its mostly Flint acting like a three year old...but Conrad is far from innocent. He goads Dash terribly!
In the meantime, I just looked over and saw one eye peeking up at me from the pillow. He's awake and looking none too pleased about it.
Oh yes...there he goes...the 'I told you so...' lecture. At this point I will sit through ANYTHING if it results in him going to get me some Pepto-Bismal. Maybe if I moan in pain a bit I will get sympathy points. He is pretty easy to manipulate when it comes to...
Oh...cool...that worked! He is off to pick up some stuff from the infirmary, running out in his sweatpants and dog tags as soon as he saw me clutch my stomach.
I love that man!
Note to self...pizza at midnight is NOT a good idea...
I am sitting up in bed, its...oh my god its 3:30 AM...and I can't for the life of me get to sleep. Its not that I am feeling particularly lively...I'm exhausted in fact...but a late night snack is doing cartwheels in my stomach and I can't seem to get comfortable.
Log-boy, on the other hand, is out cold. Light sleeper my ass...the man could snore his way through machinegun fire! I am sorely tempted to wake him just so he can suffer along with me...I'm just not sure I can deal with the 'surly', overtired Flint that would certainly result from such an action. Yes he has stayed up with me when I have been ill or upset, sweet and supportive despite his fatigue...but this time I know all I am going to get is a gruff 'I told you so'.
It had been a long hard day, capped off by a meeting with Hawk and Stalker that lasted well into the night. As a result, I missed lunch as well as dinner and decided to make my way to the kitchen to scrape something together before I hit the sack.
There is always someone in the mess after hours...whether grabbing a midnight snack or just hanging out. Over time it has become one of the more popular social spots in the PITT next to the recreation level. The food isn't great, but every so often Roadblock or Gung Ho take over the kitchen and throw something really amazing together...and late at night it is a nice, quiet place to chat.
As expected, I wasn't the only one whose stomach was rumbling. Clutch and Shipwreck were leaning against the counter, eyeing Cover Girl as she rummaged through the super sized refrigerator. Leave it to Courtney to have the two biggest womanizers on the base chasing after her. I don't know how she stands it!
Shipwreck is a noisy, bad tempered sailor with an eye for the ladies. I once commented that if GIJOE ever disbanded he needn't worry about finding work...he is a shoe-in for the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disney! He even comes complete with a foul-mouthed parrot! Needless to say, Hector did not take kindly to this little observation, although it did manage to put a stop to his very blatant advances for a short while...
...Flint nearly breaking his jaw ended that for good.
A fierce fighter on the field, Shipwreck is hard to control and tends to make rash decisions without bothering to inform his superiors... a trait that has had him butting heads with the brass on more than one occasion. That said, any Joe who has worked with him would tell you he never lets you down in a fight. He is also the kind of guy you want around when you go out on the town...the life of the party...at least when he doesn't go overboard with the booze, which is often. I can't tell you how many times Wetsuit and Torpedo have had to carry him back to base after a particularly wild night.
Despite his volatile nature, I have a soft spot for the crusty old sailor. His heart is in the right place, and he never fails to put a smile on my face. Clutch, on the other hand, is one of the very few people in GIJOE that I cannot stand. I admire his abilities as a soldier, and I respect the fact that he is one of the original members of the team...but other than that I have no patience for him. He is the EPITOME of the male chauvinist pig, and I am surprised he hasn't yet been brought up on charges of sexual harassment.
You think I am being hypocritical, don't you? Sure, I thought Flint was just as bad when we first met, and you could say that, if anything, my relationship with him should have taught me NOT to judge a book by its cover. Problem is, I did attempt to get to know Lance better those first few months, and let me tell you if there IS a 'poet' hiding behind the attitude, it is buried so deep that it might as well not exist.
I will add that the feeling of loathing is pretty much mutual. He calls me the Ice Queen...and Lady Attitude...as well as some other choice names not fit for polite company. He did hit on me the first couple of days I was on the team but that ended quickly enough. All I needed to do was open my mouth and engage him in serious conversation and he was off running for the exit. Lance is the type of man who is intimidated by intelligent women...he likes them bubbly and beautiful. Not that Courtney is 'bubbly' by any stretch of the imagination...but lets face it...she is a super model with an obsession with cars. Clutch probably thought he had died and gone to heaven when he first saw her working on the Wolverine in the motor pool.
Courtney has him on a tight leash...this after years of beating him into submission. He acts up around her every so often but she knows exactly how to handle his type. She has been handling men like him all her life! I don't know how she does it...I think every man on the team has hit on her at one time or another...even Flint. I don't know what he was thinking. Ok...I know what he was thinking...and it had nothing at all to do with a long-term relationship. As arrogant and 'god's gift to women' as he can be, Flint is the type who needs...craves...an intelligent partner, someone he can match wits with. He would quickly grow bored with anything less, no matter what their cup size.
Courtney would have been a fling for sure.
Listen to me!!! Am I really still jealous of what 'almost' went down way back before Dash and I were even CIVIL to each other? Am I so envious of her beauty? Am I really that catty? Courtney is my FRIEND! So she isn't 'Ivy League'...so what? She is one of the strongest, most down to earth people I have ever met.
She has sworn she would never pursue a relationship with anyone she works with and so far she has stuck to her guns. You have to admire that about her. She also keeps her personal life to herself. We are close and even I don't know if she has a boyfriend back home or not!
In any case, I hung around with them for a little while...chatting with Hector and Courtney while ignoring Clutch as much as possible. Alpine and Bazooka made an appearance at one point, as well as Tripwire...and before I knew it the clock had hit midnight and I was still nibbling on the leftovers from Gung Ho's Creole Pizza night.
Spicy hot...but DELICIOUS...
Flint came looking for me soon a couple of minutes after twelve and shook his head in exasperation.
"You are going to be up all night if you eat anymore of the that, Lady Jaye..."
"...I'm hungry, and there is nothing else in the kitchen..." I said as I pointed to a room FULL of food...all of which needed to be cooked or prepared in some way.
He flashed me a lopsided grin as he grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge.
"You know...you are going to have to learn to cook one of these days..."
"I CAN cook...I'm just 'uninspired' at the moment."
"Uninspired?"
I nodded as I took another bite of my meal, ignoring his laughter.
"Well...if the kickback from that Cajun pizza sauce doesn't 'inspire' you...I don't know what will...come on, I'll walk you back to your room."
'Walk' me to my room. Even after all this time we still try to keep up appearances as much as possible, avoiding public displays of affection or any overt gestures of couple hood. It's not that the others don't know about us...you would have to have been posted to Antarctica for the past 4 or 5 years NOT to...as I have mentioned before, Flint has gone to irritatingly great lengths to mark 'his territory'. Nonetheless, he IS a high-ranking member of the team and must therefore maintain some semblance of discipline and normalcy.
Of course, it is a rare night that we do not share a bed when we finally find ourselves on base at the same time.
Oooooo...my stomach.
Christ, I haven't felt this terrible since early last month. Have you ever stopped jogging or going to the gym for any length of time and then tried to start up again? It's TOUGH...more a mental struggle than a physical one. That said, my injured lungs and ribs made the 'physical' aspect all the more challenging, as did Beachhead. The man is INSANE with a capital 'I'.
He gets results though...I am back in fine form and ready for action after only two short months. Not that I have seen any action. The only battle I have engaged in recently is with the huge pile of paperwork on my desk, and the constant struggle to keep Hawk informed of current events and advise him on appropriate courses of action.
Take this evening, for instance. I was called in to his office on very short notice to give him a situational analysis and political overview of a little country known as Wolkekuckland. It seems that our old 'friend' General Liederkranz is in need of assistance yet again.
I still remember the undercover operation that took place a few years ago in this backwater military dictatorship that neighbors Darklonia. It was one of the very few missions that saw me teamed with Flint, Scarlett and Snake Eyes...more of a big, fat double date than a reconnaissance!
We were tasked with uncovering how weapons smugglers had managed to move tons of equipment in and out of Darklonia without triggering the radar and early warning systems. Hawk and his team, in the meantime, were overseeing maneuvers along the border in the hope of training the local army to a point where they no longer needed aid to defend themselves against Darklon and COBRA. The fact that they would be purchasing some of our equipment was considered a major plus, especially for the defense contractors who supply our weapons.
Red is almost as experienced as I at undercover work, and Snake Eyes is so quiet and unobtrusive that he needn't even conceal himself. He could be standing right next to you and you would never notice! It's a creepy little ninja trick of his, very useful for ancient martial arts assassins...equally useful for Covert Ops.
Flint, on the other hand, well...he is a little harder to disguise. Not much of an actor, and always quite the 'presence' in a room...we decided that instead of making the difficult and ultimately unsuccessful attempt to get him into character and keep him there, we would use what he already had to our advantage.
If there is anything Flint can do and do well...it was play a loud, obnoxious, self-righteous, arrogant, belligerent American tourist. All we needed to do was follow his lead and play along.
We spent a day or two driving around in a flashy American sports car, upsetting the sensibilities of small town Europeans everywhere we went. Flint played his part to a tee, and was having a great time despite the fact that he was less than pleased about the transportation we had been provided.
"A Camaro...you have GOT to be kidding me..."
"It's a car Flint...a red sports car with a big engine...just like yours" I sighed as I walked over to the passenger side. He glared at me from across the hood while Scarlett tried to stop herself from laughing.
"It is NOT like my car AT ALL..."
"Is it better?" Shana asked innocently as Snakes pretended to inspect the tires. I could feel him smiling underneath the mask.
"Don't you start with me, Red...you know full well that this piece of junk couldn't hold a candle to..."
"Ok, ok...enough, Dash..." I snapped, nipping this little scene in the bud, "...just swallow your pride and get in the damn car. We have work to do."
He sulked for a good half hour after that...taking his frustration out on the border guard when we reached the station between the two countries. Obnoxious American indeed!
In fact, he played the role so well that I was beginning to wonder if I should tell him to tone it down lest he bring us under suspicion. I needn't have worried; apparently he was precisely what the locals expected of a US tourist, and they paid us no mind except for a dirty look now and again.
It didn't take us long to discover the cause of the mysterious weapons trade going across the well-manned border. After an armed confrontation with some smugglers at a local café, we kidnapped and threatened two of them (I don't know who terrified them more...Snake Eyes unmasked or Flint uncouth) until they revealed their secret.
A tunnel? Thermal baffles? Radar reflective paint?
Nope. Good old-fashioned bribery was the key to the whole operation. The two goons took us out to an early warning system outpost operated by a man named Wolfgang. If you paid him enough, he cut off the system for ten minutes.
It was as simple as that. Mind you, it was at precisely this point that our mission became a lot more complicated...
...Complicated as in being spotted by an entire COBRA convoy, at the helm of which were Cobra Commander, Darklon, Dr Mindbender and the Baroness.
COBRA STUNS vs The Camaro. It doesn't take a military genius to deduce the outcome of that confrontation!
"Did you see that? The Commander and Darklorn together!" Flint exclaimed incredulously while attempting to reload his rifle. "Fuck...everybody smile and wave! Don't make any sudden moves and keep going!"
"The Baroness is with them too..." Scarlett observed, Snakes signing away while she translated "...that means Destro can't be too far away!"
I merely shook my head, trying to piece everything together while attempting to maneuver the car through rough terrain in the dark.
"What are they doing here? How did they know the early warning system was going to be turned off?
"And why would Darklorn be making a raid on Wolkekuckland?" Flint added.
"...More than that, why would he be taking Cobra Commander and Destro's main squeeze along for the ride?" Red and he looked at each other for a moment, trying to piece together the mystery before they were jarred from their thoughts when I rammed the car headlong into a COBRA STUN.
Hell...it didn't matter that the damn thing didn't have its lights on! I was STILL teased for DAYS afterwards about my driving skills.
But I digress...
Thank god Hawk was nearby or we would have been in a bit of trouble. Apparently, he and Roadblock saw our car on the reactivated radar screen in Wolfgang's station and set out to help us out...AFTER routing the rest of Darklon's forces.
Victory was ours!
Unfortunately, the mission ended with a failing grade. Liederkranz was so impressed by the 'apparent' ability of the Pythonized COBRA products to evade radar and thermal detectors that he decided to order some from Darklon on the spot.
MARS 1, GIJOE 0.
"I keep forgetting that the type of people who want to run things never changes." Flint growled as he watched the two men shake hands.
Was he ever pissed off! Mind you, we were all feeling a bit angry, so much so that Red suggested we all relax at a local bar before 'someone' end up causing an international incident. Flint looked about ready to kill Liederkrandz with his bare hands...
The rest of the evening was a blast, and a memorable one too...for that was the night Shana and I drank Flint under the table!
Mind you, both Red and myself were a little worse for wear when Snakes finally drove us all back to camp...he never drinks...but poor Dash was worse than I have ever seen him. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
Ok...I laughed...especially when he tried to salute Hawk and promptly fell over in a heap at his feet. Serves him right though! He should have known he couldn't possibly hold alcohol like a Scot and an Irishwoman. He should have given up while he could still stand. Male pride, however, prevented him from throwing in the towel.
I am not a big drinker, although I do enjoy sharing a bottle of wine with dinner or occassionally ending the evening with a shot of good Scotch. I drink socially, and have been known to chug back a beer or three when the mood takes me. It loosens me up a bit, but I have to watch lest it break down my deepest inhibitions like it did that time in Scotland.
Not that THAT particular incident was a bad thing...if it weren't for GUINESS I probably would never have gotten together with Flint. Christ, I practically threw myself at him...and the resulting encounter was wilder than anything I had ever experienced before in my life.
No. THAT certainly wouldn't have happened had I been sober...and probably explains the glint in his eye whenever he watches me sipping a drink...the memories from that night still hot in both our minds after all this time.
Flint also enjoys a beer with the guys, and will drink when he is off duty and out on the town. He has been drunk around me, but never so much that he has had to be carried home. Usually the buzz takes him in one of two directions...he either becomes even more of an arrogant, egotistical pain in the behind OR he gets very...ummm....'affectionate' with me.
...Very, very 'affectionate'.
It really is quite the experience. If you can get him with just the right amount of alcohol in his system he becomes something of a 'wild' Don Juan...and I have to say, early on in our relationship I really looked forward to the team's nights out. As I have mentioned before, sex with Dash is fantastic...sex with uninhibited Flint is an experience you will never forget.
Its too bad he drank a little more than usual that night in Wockukerland or we might very well have had a repeat of the 'Kilt' incident. I knew he was far-gone when he began to recite to me in a deep, sensual voice...his breath hot against my skin as we rocked together on the dance floor.
"I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.
I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.
I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,
And I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue."
It was the first time he had ever 'gone poet' on me, and I was dumbfounded. I wish I could describe his voice when he reads or recites some romantic verse...but I don't think I can do it justice. The deep richness of it, the comforting rumble, the soft sensuality...it draws me in and holds me fast. I am a storyteller myself; I know the importance of tone and cadence, the difficulty in getting the words to come out just right.
Dash does it naturally...but only with me.
Only with me...
He doesn't remember what happened that night in the bar. He was so drunk Snakes had to carry him to his tent and he remained out cold until Hawk woke us all the following morning. Shana and I got a lot of mileage out of that little hiccup...especially when he came to the briefing wearing sunglasses and wincing at every sound, every movement.
No...he doesn't remember that night, and I haven't told him. I am not quite sure it actually happened as I was pretty far-gone myself at that point. In fact, it was such a very long time before I heard him recite again that I was beginning to think it was a flight of fancy on my part. Besides, I like to think of the poem after Sierra Gordo as the first, for that time the inspiration sprang from the heart and not the bottle.
He reads to me often now...when the mood takes him...and his words never fail to strike a chord. Most of the time it happens when we are lying together in bed, sometimes after we make love, sometimes before...a deep and personal twist to his habit of quoting great works.
Take the night I returned from Boston. I was sitting up in bed, exhausted but still tense from my time with the Harts...worried about everything and nothing and unable to relax...when I heard his voice.
"Already, you are mine. Rest with your dream inside my dream.
Love, grief, labour, must sleep now.
Night revolves on invisible wheels
and joined to me you are pure as sleeping amber."
"Mmmm..." I sighed in contentment, my anxiety dissipating immediately as he pulled me down into his embrace, "...who's that by?"
"Neruda..."
"Oh...the man from Il Postino!" I smiled, recognizing the name immediately but knowing that to describe him so simply would get Dash irritated.
"Allie...Pablo Neruda was one of the great poets of this century...he is hardly 'just' a character from some movie. Veinte poemas de amor y una cancion desesperada is one of the most famous collections of poetry ever written...not to mention his political activities in Chile during the 1940s were hist..."
He is so cute when he lectures!
Sigh*
He is acting quite strangely of late...not strange 'bad', just...strange. Not himself. I know something is bothering him but he dismisses my worries whenever I ask. I would force the issue but the change in him is so subtle that it could easily be an illusion caused by my own neurosis rather than some deep and hidden anxiety on his part.
Whatever it is, something isn't right. Maybe he's still sore about the whole Star Brigade debacle. Regardless of the fact he has absolutely no interest in becoming an astronaut, he was less than pleased when he failed to be selected for the team while Duke was not only chosen but made field commander. It didn't help that Roadblock was going along as well.
Is it just me or is the rivalry between the Duke and Flint getting worse and not better?
I have a meeting with the 'Golden Child' later this week. Maybe I will poke around and see what I come up with. Whatever is behind this quiet contention, it has to stop. The two of them are acting like a pair of three year olds. Ok, its mostly Flint acting like a three year old...but Conrad is far from innocent. He goads Dash terribly!
In the meantime, I just looked over and saw one eye peeking up at me from the pillow. He's awake and looking none too pleased about it.
Oh yes...there he goes...the 'I told you so...' lecture. At this point I will sit through ANYTHING if it results in him going to get me some Pepto-Bismal. Maybe if I moan in pain a bit I will get sympathy points. He is pretty easy to manipulate when it comes to...
Oh...cool...that worked! He is off to pick up some stuff from the infirmary, running out in his sweatpants and dog tags as soon as he saw me clutch my stomach.
I love that man!