"Hey LADIES!"
Lady Jaye and Scarlett turned to look out the jeep's window. The Navy SEALS competing team had pulled their pants down in full moon, wiggling their white butts as the Joes passed by them.
Jaye reached into her Ultimate Challenge swag bag and pulled out a logo'd pencil. She held it like a javelin. "Got a perfect bullseye here, Beachhead. Just say the word."
Beachhead snorted as he drove the jeep. "I wish, Jaye Bird. I wish."
"Lesson number one," Roadblock said, twisting to face the Joe women in the back seat. "Whenever the competing team yells, 'Hey Ladies!' DON'T LOOK."
"Tip noted," Scarlett said.
The jeep pulled up to the official parking lot, guarded by heavily armed men in black.
"These guys look tough," Jaye whistled.
"They aren't the guards people should worry about," Beachhead said, shutting off the engine. "The real dangerous ones are in the bushes."
"Can't see them," Scarlett said, squinting.
"That's the point. You didn't think they'd have some lame rock-concert security guarding this event, did ya?"
"Guess not," Scarlett said, grabbing her backpack and getting out of the truck. She looked up and saw helicopters hovering overhead.
"G.I. Joe team?" An official came marching up to them. "Can I see your passes?"
"Again?" Roadblock said. "We've shown already them four times."
"And you'll show them again."
They pulled out their passes hanging around their necks. The official ran a scanner along them and waited for approval. "Good," he said. "Head to the starting line. There's coffee there if you need it."
"Don't touch the coffee," Beachhead said, waiting for the official to get out of earshot. "It'll dehydrate you."
"Wayne Sneeden!" a big man said, running up to him. He wore an Army t-shirt that barely fit around his huge neck. "Tucker Creedance!" Beachhead said, shaking his hand. "Didn't think they were letting you pansies in the challenge this year!"
The big man roared with laughter. "Watch yer mouth, nancy boy! I could blow you over with one breath."
"With that rank dog-breath, you're right."
Tucker smiled at Lady Jaye and Scarlett. "And who are these lovely ladies?" He looked Scarlett up and down. "Hey? Aren't you that comfort girl Hector Ramirez interviewed?"
Lady Jaye's eyes widened. "What?!"
"Long story," Scarlett groaned.
"You took that weasel-reporter DOWN, girl!" Tucker said, slapping Scarlett on the back, nearly knocking her over. "Good on you!"
"Tucker, this is Lady Jaye and Scarlett," Beachhead said, introducing them. "And you know Roadblock."
"Sure do," Tucker grinned. The two men shook hands. "Back for more, Roadblock?"
"You know I always have a second helping, Tuck," Roadblock winked.
"Well, I should get back to my team," Tucker said. "Just wanted to size up the competition. Looks like our guys have this one in the bag."
"Don't count on it," Beachhead growled.
"COMPETITORS! TO THE STARTING LINE!" a voice crackled through a megaphone.
***
Hector Ramirez drove his sport utility vehicle along the bumpy road, cursing the whole time. You'd think they'd clean up these roads, he thought. Outback or not, a country was only as civilized as its infrastructure.
"Jimmy, where the hell is the starting line?" he said, turning to his cameraman.
"Don't look at me," Jimmy shrugged, biting into an apple. "You're the one who's using their 'spidey-sense' to find the challenge. I wanted us to nab a helicopter."
"A helicopter's not in the budget," Hector snapped. "And the best way to film an event is on the frontlines, down in the trenches, face-to-face with danger."
"Whatever you say, boss."
Hector opened his mouth to continue his rant, but then spotted a figure in the distance. "Hang on. Who's this yahoo?"
"Beats me," Jimmy said.
The man started waving at them frantically. He was dressed in a white tank top with the word ULTIMATE sprawled across the front in big black letters. He also wore green shorts, knee-high socks and a sweatband around his forehead.
Hector slowed the SUV to a stop and rolled down the window. "What's the problem, good sir?"
"Ah, THANK GOD," the man said, throwing his hands to the heavens. "Man, I'm so late! The challenge has already started and I slept through my alarm. Had a wild night. Australian women are nuts, I tell you. NUTS."
"Late?" Hector's eyebrow perked up. "For a challenge?"
The man clamped a hand over his mouth. "Shoot. I'm supposed to keep it all secret."
Hector chuckled. "Not to worry. I already know about the military challenge."
"Really? Wait a second. Are you Hector Ramirez? The famous investigative journalist? Oh MAN! My mom's going to go crazy. My whole family loves you."
Jimmy rolled his eyes.
"Oh, well, don't be intimidated," Hector said, smiling graciously. "I'm just like everyone else. Put my pants on one leg at a time. Make my own coffee in the mornings. Wrestle babies out of the mouths of Great Whites."
The man's eyes widened. "I SAW that shark-snatching-baby news story. Can't believe people accused you of staging it all at the Universal Studios theme park."
Hector's smile vanished. "Where are you going, soldier?"
"Well, I guess I've missed the first lap of the challenge," he sighed. "Best bet is to go to the second rendez-vous point."
"Which is where?"
"It's - oops!" the man clamped a hand over his mouth for the second time. "Can't tell you. We poor, starving soldiers have a code of honor, you know."
"I've never known a code of honor that couldn't be bought," Hector smirked, taking out his wallet. "How about fifty dollars?"
"A hundred."
"Seventy-five."
"Done," Hector said, forking over the money. "Hop in."
"This is so exciting," the man said, getting into the SUV and slapping Jimmy on the shoulder.
"OW!"
"Curb your enthusiasm, soldier," Hector snapped. "Where to?"
"Bondi Beach," Gung-Ho said, smiling. "That's where the action is."
***
Lady Jaye and Scarlett turned to look out the jeep's window. The Navy SEALS competing team had pulled their pants down in full moon, wiggling their white butts as the Joes passed by them.
Jaye reached into her Ultimate Challenge swag bag and pulled out a logo'd pencil. She held it like a javelin. "Got a perfect bullseye here, Beachhead. Just say the word."
Beachhead snorted as he drove the jeep. "I wish, Jaye Bird. I wish."
"Lesson number one," Roadblock said, twisting to face the Joe women in the back seat. "Whenever the competing team yells, 'Hey Ladies!' DON'T LOOK."
"Tip noted," Scarlett said.
The jeep pulled up to the official parking lot, guarded by heavily armed men in black.
"These guys look tough," Jaye whistled.
"They aren't the guards people should worry about," Beachhead said, shutting off the engine. "The real dangerous ones are in the bushes."
"Can't see them," Scarlett said, squinting.
"That's the point. You didn't think they'd have some lame rock-concert security guarding this event, did ya?"
"Guess not," Scarlett said, grabbing her backpack and getting out of the truck. She looked up and saw helicopters hovering overhead.
"G.I. Joe team?" An official came marching up to them. "Can I see your passes?"
"Again?" Roadblock said. "We've shown already them four times."
"And you'll show them again."
They pulled out their passes hanging around their necks. The official ran a scanner along them and waited for approval. "Good," he said. "Head to the starting line. There's coffee there if you need it."
"Don't touch the coffee," Beachhead said, waiting for the official to get out of earshot. "It'll dehydrate you."
"Wayne Sneeden!" a big man said, running up to him. He wore an Army t-shirt that barely fit around his huge neck. "Tucker Creedance!" Beachhead said, shaking his hand. "Didn't think they were letting you pansies in the challenge this year!"
The big man roared with laughter. "Watch yer mouth, nancy boy! I could blow you over with one breath."
"With that rank dog-breath, you're right."
Tucker smiled at Lady Jaye and Scarlett. "And who are these lovely ladies?" He looked Scarlett up and down. "Hey? Aren't you that comfort girl Hector Ramirez interviewed?"
Lady Jaye's eyes widened. "What?!"
"Long story," Scarlett groaned.
"You took that weasel-reporter DOWN, girl!" Tucker said, slapping Scarlett on the back, nearly knocking her over. "Good on you!"
"Tucker, this is Lady Jaye and Scarlett," Beachhead said, introducing them. "And you know Roadblock."
"Sure do," Tucker grinned. The two men shook hands. "Back for more, Roadblock?"
"You know I always have a second helping, Tuck," Roadblock winked.
"Well, I should get back to my team," Tucker said. "Just wanted to size up the competition. Looks like our guys have this one in the bag."
"Don't count on it," Beachhead growled.
"COMPETITORS! TO THE STARTING LINE!" a voice crackled through a megaphone.
***
Hector Ramirez drove his sport utility vehicle along the bumpy road, cursing the whole time. You'd think they'd clean up these roads, he thought. Outback or not, a country was only as civilized as its infrastructure.
"Jimmy, where the hell is the starting line?" he said, turning to his cameraman.
"Don't look at me," Jimmy shrugged, biting into an apple. "You're the one who's using their 'spidey-sense' to find the challenge. I wanted us to nab a helicopter."
"A helicopter's not in the budget," Hector snapped. "And the best way to film an event is on the frontlines, down in the trenches, face-to-face with danger."
"Whatever you say, boss."
Hector opened his mouth to continue his rant, but then spotted a figure in the distance. "Hang on. Who's this yahoo?"
"Beats me," Jimmy said.
The man started waving at them frantically. He was dressed in a white tank top with the word ULTIMATE sprawled across the front in big black letters. He also wore green shorts, knee-high socks and a sweatband around his forehead.
Hector slowed the SUV to a stop and rolled down the window. "What's the problem, good sir?"
"Ah, THANK GOD," the man said, throwing his hands to the heavens. "Man, I'm so late! The challenge has already started and I slept through my alarm. Had a wild night. Australian women are nuts, I tell you. NUTS."
"Late?" Hector's eyebrow perked up. "For a challenge?"
The man clamped a hand over his mouth. "Shoot. I'm supposed to keep it all secret."
Hector chuckled. "Not to worry. I already know about the military challenge."
"Really? Wait a second. Are you Hector Ramirez? The famous investigative journalist? Oh MAN! My mom's going to go crazy. My whole family loves you."
Jimmy rolled his eyes.
"Oh, well, don't be intimidated," Hector said, smiling graciously. "I'm just like everyone else. Put my pants on one leg at a time. Make my own coffee in the mornings. Wrestle babies out of the mouths of Great Whites."
The man's eyes widened. "I SAW that shark-snatching-baby news story. Can't believe people accused you of staging it all at the Universal Studios theme park."
Hector's smile vanished. "Where are you going, soldier?"
"Well, I guess I've missed the first lap of the challenge," he sighed. "Best bet is to go to the second rendez-vous point."
"Which is where?"
"It's - oops!" the man clamped a hand over his mouth for the second time. "Can't tell you. We poor, starving soldiers have a code of honor, you know."
"I've never known a code of honor that couldn't be bought," Hector smirked, taking out his wallet. "How about fifty dollars?"
"A hundred."
"Seventy-five."
"Done," Hector said, forking over the money. "Hop in."
"This is so exciting," the man said, getting into the SUV and slapping Jimmy on the shoulder.
"OW!"
"Curb your enthusiasm, soldier," Hector snapped. "Where to?"
"Bondi Beach," Gung-Ho said, smiling. "That's where the action is."
***