Okay. I was surprised to find out that it had been a month already since I posted the first chapter of this … when I checked about a month and a half ago. SORRY about that. I guess I've been busy with work, which gives me less time at home for things like writing …. Well, if anyone still cares – and thank you very much for the reviews. I'm glad I was able to amuse you guys – here's the next chapter. It was going to be the last chapter, but I realized that there was a bit of a natural break in the story; and, it's getting later, and I get up too early for my job, so I've decided to post what I've got. I know pretty well what I've got to left to do, so I should be putting up the conclusion in a day or two. Really, this time. Really:)
A couple of notes: My Zarana's probably not as Dreadnoky as the TV show version (not that my stuff is purely set in the TV universe, anyway. The Marvel comic is a huge influence – my Cobra Commander is much more the Larry Hama character); her character as given on her file card has gone into her depiction here. And, the four Americans on the street are from a movie my wife and Iwatch sometimes; I'm curious to see if anybody recognizes them.
Anyway … at last, Chapter 2!
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The streets of Marsailles. Despite Destro's misgivings, it was a very nice day, at least weather-wise. Birds were flying, the sun was shining, people walked the streets, a mime was plying his trade ….
And an obnoxious tourist was heckling him.
"Yo! Clown!" the loud and possibly drunken man yelled. "Hey! I'm talkin' to you! Yeah!"
The mime continued to try to escape his giant invisible box, with possibly the barest hint of a scowl on his otherwise masklike face.
"Woo! I'm a MIME!" the bozo hollered at anyone within earshot. "I got NO talent at all, so I dress up like a clown! No, a clown REJECT! Yer! That's low!"
The mime's hand appeared to be less steady.
"Waassa matter? Yer box in a earthquake? Haw!" The man was too oblivious to notice that the passersby found him annoying, not amusing. The mime's fist clenched.
"Stupid France, with your stupid mimes, and wine, and Towers … and … French! Yeh! And your stupid berets!" The man chuckled, looking to the crowd for support, not noticing that he wasn't getting any. "Yeah, yer a clown WANNA-BE in a wussy-ass BERET! Ooo –"
The mime was standing beside the heckler, as suddenly, swiftly, and silently as a ninja master.
"Huh?" the man asked in sheer stunned stupidity.
The mime attacked with blinding speed. The heckler went flying. The mime pressed his attack swiftly and powerfully. The silent warrior leaped on the heckler, pummelling him and then flipping him into the center of the street. The "mime" moved with the grace of an experienced warrior, a deadly master of combat long tutored in the art –
A ponytailed red-head emerged from a building across the street from the fracas.
"Flint!" Scarlett called. "Cut it out!"
"Uh?" the mime grunted. "Rrr." He dropped the unconscious heckler on the pavement, as the crowd began to disperse.
"See, Cooper?" a young brunette American in the crowd asked. "Aren't you glad you didn't try to beat up that mime?"
"Oh, gimmie a break, Jenny," the young red-headed man she was addressing replied. "Scotty got to beat up that robot guy!"
"Mieke!" the man in question said. The three walked off, following another young American man reading from a Frommer's guide.
Scarlett had joined Flint by now. Dialing for help for the beat-up heckler, she remarked, "Next time, Snake Eyes is definitely the mime." As if on cue, Snake Eyes appeared, wearing a Maitre d' outfit and one of his black masks.
"Nobody … insults berets," Flint spat, wiping the white make-up off of his face. "Er, I mean, France." Scarlett gave him a look. "And mimes." He finished cleaning off his face. "So, did we get anything out of this mission – other than me beating the beer out of this bozo?"
Remembering, Scarlett stood, pulling some documents out of her satchel. "OH yeah," she smirked. "Wait until you see what we found out about – "
"NOTHING!" a deep, somewhat Darth Vader-ish voice boomed. Gun fire, and a small rocket, launched towards the trio.
"Destro!" Scarlett cried, as Snake Eyes shoved everyone behind cover.
"What, does he think we were researching Seinfeld?" Flint asked, fishing a gun out of his pants leg.
"I think it doesn't matter WHAT you were researching, because you won't live to TELL G.I. Joe … G.I. Joe!" a heavily-accented female voice cried.
"The Baroness!" Scarlett said. "Now THAT's interesting …."
"Not really," Flint remarked, as the three continued firing in the direction of the incoming fire and the voices. "They go EVERYwhere together. How sad is that?"
"Uh-huh," Scarlett replied, giving him another look.
"I mean, they should have their own sitcom or something," Flint continued obliviously.
"Funny you should say that," Scarlett said, launching a crossbow bolt across the street. "What I've got in this folder could BE a sitcom plot … or maybe a soap opera," she added, looking down at the bundle of information they'd obtained.
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"Arg!" Destro cried. The explosion of Scarlett's crossbow bolt had separated him from the Baroness .. and torn a hole in his leather sleeve. "Stupid day," he grumbled. "My dear!" he called. "Are you all right?"
"Yes!" the Baroness called over. "Except I tripped over some unconscious idiot passed out in the street!" She fired a burst in the direction of the Joes. "I'll be better when our reinforcements get here!"
"Ask and you shall receive," a voice suddenly came from right behind Destro. He whirled around. An attractive woman, dressed as a tourist, in a t-shirt and shorts, with red hair, was standing behind him. It took Destro a second to recognize –
"Zarana!" Maybe this day wasn't all bad, Destro found himself thinking. "I nearly didn't recognize you with the darker hair! Quite … becoming!"
"Why, thank you, Destro," Zarana replied. "It's my natural color. I've been undercover here,"
"So I can see," Destro remarked. "Your outfit is very … nice…."
"YES?" the Baroness asked, appearing beside the two.
"Erm, as an effective disguise," he concluded.
"Oh, sure," the Baroness muttered.
"My dear, look!" Destro said. "Zarana is here! Perhaps – I had another psychic dream?" The thought of that distracted Destro as it sank in.
"You don't have psychic dreams," the Baroness replied in a tired, I've-told-you-this-a-hundred-times voice.
"You dreamed about me, Destro?" Zarana asked.
"I had that one about Mindbender!" Destro indignantly responded to his significant other.
"OH …" Zarana mumbled.
"No, not like that," Destro said.
"Like WHAT?" the Baroness asked threateningly.
Another small explosion saved Destro from this conversation. The trio duckeddown betterbehind cover.
Zarana began firing a pocket-book sized gun at the Joes. "I've been tracking down this group of Joes," she began.
"Oh, good job!" The Baroness retorted.
"Hey, who do you think sent the tip for you to come here, sweetie?" Zarana asked. "I would've been here sooner – " she paused as she swung her head around the wall – "but I couldn't get a taxi over here!"
The Baroness and Destro exchanged a knowing look. "Been skipping the tips again, have we, my dear?" Baroness asked.
"Hey, it's MY money – " Zarana began to reply … until she saw the point of a nearly Hitori Hanzoly-impressive sword out of the corner of her eye.
"What – " Destro began. The crossbow by his side silenced him.
"How?" the Baroness asked, as a flurry of gunfire continued from across the street.
"Oh, Flint's still over there," Scarlett explained with a smile. "He's plenty gun-happy enough to put up a big pile of firefight for us – " A grenade blew up a dumpster about ten feet away. "A little TOO happy," Scarlett muttered. "HEY! FLINT! We're OVER here!" Snake Eyes just shook his head tiredly.
"Anyway," Scarlett resumed after the gunfire slowed a little, "Ram-bozo puts up enough gunfire for two or three people, while we stealthy types make our way around both sides of you. Of course, you all seemed a little distracted, anyway."
"Am not!" Destro replied just a little too quickly and defensively.
"Rrr … " the Baroness growled. "So you HAVE us, G.I. Joe. So I guess you can get away with your stolen secrets … for now. It won't take us long to figure out what it is you discovered, though!" she proclaimed defiantly.
"Won't have to," Scarlett replied. She extended her arm out, file folder in hand. "We're going to show it to you."
"What?" the three Cobras asked in unified confusion.