Disclaimers…Don't own them, etc. etc.
Duke looked up from his paperwork at the sound of someone rapping on the office door. He sighed. He could tell from the outline through the frosted glass that his visitor was Beach Head. "Come in," he called, trying to keep from sounding annoyed. This was the third visit today.
The drill instructor came in and stood at attention. "Sir, I just wanted to finalize the plans for this year's exercise. Has Mainframe gone over the alarm system yet?"
"Yes, Beach Head. Everything is ready. Why don't you just relax?"
"Relax? Sir, no one has successfully gotten through in the three years I've been doing this. I have a reputation to maintain." Beach Head frowned through his balaclava. "If no one's going to take this seriously, I don't know why we even bother."
Duke leaned back in his chair. "It's only a training exercise, Beach. And besides, if everyone were to take up defensive positions like you suggested earlier, it wouldn't be realistic. The point of this is to simulate a sneak attack on the base."
Beach Head snorted. "Well, if anyone gets through, it won't be MY fault." He frowned again. "Have you decided who's playing this time around?"
Reaching behind his desk for another set of papers, Duke replied, "Yes. I've picked out five Joes who haven't had the distinction of being your guinea pigs for this yet." He looked down and continued, "Tunnel Rat, Lady Jaye, Alpine, Quick Kick, and Gung-Ho." He watched Beach Head's eyes narrow. "You asked me to pick the team members who had different specialties. That's them, and the list is final."
"Not much of a challenge this year," Beach Head mumbled. He raised his voice and continued, "With your permission, sir, I'd like to brief the rest of the team before I head out with the six mock attackers."
Duke sighed again and nodded. Thank goodness he only let Beach Head do this once a year. The man's speeches tended to be a bit on the long side, and he took this particular exercise so seriously. He half hoped that one of this year's "contestants" found a weak spot in the base's defenses and actually made it through. Maybe then it wouldn't be the high point of Beach Head's year.
Lady Jaye looked at her watch. Beach Head had been droning on now for almost half an hour. She snuck a peek around the corner and into the gym. Most of the Joes weren't even feigning interest in what the drill instructor had to say. She saw Duke stand up and gesture at Beach Head to wrap it up. It was almost time.
She walked back to the other Joes who were waiting in the hallway. "He's almost done," she told them. "We all know what we're doing, right?" Everyone nodded. "Good. Keep a close eye on the time, your windows of opportunity tonight are going to be short."
Quick Kick smiled. "No problemo, boss lady. Tonight we're going down in the record books."
"And we're likely gonna earn about a month of extra PT," Gung-Ho said.
"We're not breakin' any rules, right?" Tunnel Rat commented. "Beach can't possibly take it out on us."
"Yeah, right," Alpine muttered. "Mister 'no one's gotten through in three years' is gonna be happy as pie if we successfully break into the base tonight."
"Don't worry about it," Lady Jaye told them. "Duke won't let him take any payback."
"I really hope you're right about that," Tunnel Rat replied.
The group grew silent at the sound of boot steps nearing their corner of the hallway. Beach Head came into view, looking smug and satisfied. He gestured for them to follow him, and they walked through the base toward the front entrance. The group exited into the warm summer air, heading across the main drive and past the guard house. Mutt gave them a wave as they passed, opening the main gate to let them out.
Beach Head took them about a mile into the rolling hills around the base. He stared at them all for a moment, then gave them their last instructions. "You have twelve hours to get into the base and download a copy of your personnel records from the computers. You have to deliver it to Duke personally for it to be considered a 'win.' Get in any way you can without damaging equipment or seriously injuring anyone, but," he held up a finger, "You each have to get in a different way." He smirked. "Good luck." He glanced at his watch. "Your time starts…NOW!"
The drill instructor's eyes widened in surprise as Quick Kick's fist landed solidly with his jaw. Gung-Ho caught him as he fell, then settled him gently to the ground. "He's out," he told the others. "This better work or we're gonna be crocodile bait."