Chapter 6
Showdown
No desert is exactly the same; each one has its own unique landscapes, sites and features. One feature that the Syrian Desert pounded against the G.I. Joe convoy of vehicles was its gravel-strewn terrain. Rocks were constantly kicked up by the Mauler into the APC, and more sent from the APC into the already heavily-beaten Hammer. Thankfully, the rocky terrain made for a sturdy ride, without any of the troubles often suffered during travels through the sandy Saharan or Saudi Arabian desert regions.
Scimitar still looked bothered by his emotions, and Dusty wished that he could talk to him, but there just wasn't enough time to start a conversation. Ubaylah, also called Wadi Ubaylah, after the large wadi—or dry river bed—laying in the area, was only minutes away.
Flint spoke up over the radio. "Okay everybody, the town is in sight. It's even smaller then Ar Rutbah, but there are several large trucks parked around it. This place is so fishy it reeks of tuna."
Tunnel Rat looked down to Dusty and Scimitar. "That joke was so bad it reeked like--."
"Desert Scorpions!" cried out Scimitar. Dusty looked east to where the fellow desert trooper was pointing as saw the glitter of the Cobra agents climbing out from pits in the ground and opening fire on the Joes.
Grinding to a halt, the convoy began to spill out its load of soldiers, who quickly focused on the initial group of assaulting Cobra desert troops. Dusty and Scimitar jumped out of the Hammer, while Tunnel Rat swerved the .50-cal turret around and started spraying the assaulting troops. The massive response from the G.I. Joe team sent the Desert Scorpions scrambling for their lives, but the Joe victory was short-lived, for even more Scorpions assaulted the western side of the convoy. Just as quickly as before, the dust-covered fight-pickers were running away.
"All right, guys, that confirms it: Cobra's in town. Let's flush 'em out!" rallied Flint. Jumping back into the APC and Hammer, the team prepared to invade the town.
Before the convoy began moving, Flint walked out to where Stalker was standing. The Joe ranger crouched next to the body of a fallen Desert Scorpion.
"What's the verdict, Stalker? Cobra or Bludd?"
"Neither."
Flint froze in his steps. "What?"
"Well, someone is selling the weapons, but these aren't Cobra troops." Stalker flipped over the body with the butt of his M-32. It was a man, dressed in Middle Eastern garb, but clad in Desert Scorpion gear and carrying the Cobra desert trooper's style of weapons.
"I'll be damned." Said Flint.
"Cobra may not be here, but their weapons sure are." Stalker picked up an Uzi-like weapon.
"Even if Cobra isn't here, we can't let Middle Eastern terrorists get their hands on state-of-the-art weaponry. We need to get into Ubaylah and see what's in those trucks."
"Agreed."
1.
Not willing to risk foot assault, the Joes stormed in with their vehicles. From their windows, they quickly noticed that the locals fled from their homes, running southwest across the desert. No doubt they were making their way to Ar Rutbah.
When only about a hundred yards from the town's edge, small, flaring rockets lit up the landscape as they raced above the gravelly sand and smashed into the armor shells of the Mauler and the APC.
Heavy Metal called back to Flint, "That was no RPG! That was a Cobra full-body rocket suit!"
"Damn!" cursed Flint. "Okay, team, time to unload!"
In almost a déjà vu, the Joes jumped from the APC as two more rockets slammed into the transport, shaking it hard enough to knock Footloose from the back and onto the hard desert ground.
"I want whoever's firing those things taken out, now!" barked Flint.
Running towards the town as fast as they could, the Joes pinpointed the source of the rocket-fire the moment it launched two more of its armor-breakers at the Joe convoy. Before the team could open fire and chase the shooter away, a hailstorm of grenades began raining down upon the team, igniting brutal explosions in every direction. Rocks, dirt and shrapnel were blown into the air. Joe team members were knocked to their knees as they scrambled for cover. The lightly lit, nearly vacant street provided little support.
"What the hell is going on?" screamed Tunnel Rat as he ran for cover next to a small building.
"They're Frag-Viper grenades, thrown from a scoop." Deduced Zap. "It's impossible to determine where they're coming from, but somebody sure has a hell of a lot of them!"
Dusty watched in terror as a grenade blasted the ground next to Spirit, tearing up the side of the Joe tracker's leg and snapping his knee joint. Despite the risk, the desert trooper ran into the street, grabbed his old friend and pulled him to relative safety next to a sidewalk bench.
After a minute, the grenades stopped falling, but the Joe team was left battered and torn. Spirit and Footloose could no longer fight, and almost every other soldier was injured. The bad guys had won this round.
"You think they ran out of grenades, or just figure we're all dead?" asked Stalker.
"Doesn't matter," pointed out Tunnel Rat, "'Cause here comes the clean-up crew!"
Over a dozen terrorists, all carrying massive SAW-Viper belt-fed machine guns, came marching down the street, their cockiness coming out in their strut-like walk. Upon seeing the Joe team still alive, they started shooting.
A SAW-Viper's rifle is fast, powerful, and carries the distinct ability to shoot without the target knowing that it is being shot at until it's already dead—it's that dark and quiet. Many of the Joes didn't start returning fire until they felt bullets tearing through their uniforms.
Stalker, Dusty, Flint and Rock'n'Roll started shooting back hard, but the terrorists were so well armored that the shots merely knocked their aim off. Nothing scared the cocky shooters until Low-Light crawled to a position around a store's corner, leveled his sniper rifle and started firing bullets through their facemasks. After four of them fell, their cockiness was long gone. Backing up, they attempted slow retreat, until two more of them fell. What few were left turned around a sprinted away.
Flint raised his hand to cancel any chase of the terrorists through town. "I don't want us getting pulled into any surprises at the end of the block."
"Flint, this town is only one block." Pointed out Dusty.
Ignoring him, Flint looked back to Lady Jaye, who was kneeling next to Zap. "Dammit! Who was injured this time?"
"Zap, Rock'n'Roll and Hit & Run. Flint, there are only seven of us left on foot. We need the vehicles if we're going to make it any farther."
Flint pulled out his radio to call for the vehicles, and as he did so, Stalker walked up to Scimitar. Dusty couldn't help but overhear the conversation.
"Tough fight, eh, Scimitar?" said Stalker.
"Um…yeah. Getting scary." Replied Scimitar, nervously.
"Yep. Scary." Stalker stared at the newbie. "You know what's really scary? Lack of courage. Basically a guy with no guts."
Scimitar's forehead wrinkled, then he looked up at the Joe ranger, "What…what are you saying?"
"I'm saying that I haven't seen you fire a single shot in this entire operation. Not here, not even in Fallujah. Can you explain that?"
Dusty wanted to step in and help Scimitar, but knew that he needed to stay out of it. What had that Master Sergeant back in Baghdad said? "If we answer all the questions for them, how will they ever pass the tests themselves?" The concept seemed to fit here, too.
"Look, it's my first mission, I'm just nervous."
"Bull!" snapped Stalker, "Nobody gets to be a Joe by being such a woosie. You're holding back for some reason, and I want to know why!"
Scimitar attempted to stand up for himself with a hard stare, but cracked and turned away, "Because these are my people! My family is from Iraq, and you are asking me to kill my own people!"
Stalker leaned back in surprise, "I'm asking you to defend freedom--."
"How? By slaughtering Iraqi people? I am no terrorist, but I joined G.I. Joe so that I could find that scum-ball Cobra Commander, who killed my father and destroyed my family; not so I could come back here and massacre my own people!" Scimitar put his hands to his face and passionately sobbed.
Just about everyone heard the yelling of his story, and Flint walked over to the broken soldier, looked at him, then at Stalker. "Get him on the APC and make sure he stays there."
"Yes, sir."
2.
Stalker completed tying the rope around Scimitar's hands and the metal rod inside the APC. "Now, you know, I could be using 'cuffs. I'm just showing a little courtesy to a fellow Joe. After all, you haven't really done anything treasonous." Stalker gave him a cold stare, "Yet."
Scimitar looked away. "Don't worry. I'm not out to hurt G.I. Joe. I just want to go home."
"Good." Stalker. After testing the strength of the knot, the Joe ranger looked back at the desert trooper. "You know, most of these terrorists are foreigners just trying to stir up trouble. Chances are, you wouldn't hurt a single Iraqi person. Think about that." Stalker nodded, then jumped out of the personnel carrier, leaving only Scimitar and Thunder inside. The Joe newbie glanced out the back of the APC, and saw Dusty looking back at him, with just a hint of sadness on his complexion, then walk away.
Scimitar's mouth slightly curved upwards at the sides.
3.
Once the group of Joes had moved up the street and out of the city block area, Flint pointed out to the set of three eighteen-wheelers sitting out by a group of four small storage-sheds.
"Those things smell like snake, and I want some air-freshener, now!" Looking over at Heavy Metal, he gave the thumbs down signal.
The desert tank opened fire, sending 150mm shells arcing up into the air, then smashing into the far left storage shed. The little brick building exploded sideways, sending its walls blasting away over fifty yards. What should have been a little blast transformed into a sickeningly large volcanic blast of fire.
"Damn! That little box must have been stock full of ammo!" gawked Tunnel Rat.
"All right! On to shed number two!" cheered Heavy Metal.
Before the tank could change its aim, two other sheds opened up and Cobra Ferret ATVs came buzzing out. The giant blue-and-red four-wheelers were soon followed by brigades from the third shed. The swarm of terrorists carried Cobra weapons, such as SAW-rifles, grenade-throwers, Desert Scorpion weapon-packs and full-body six-rocket launcher suits.
"They're charging us!" warned Lady Jaye from the side of the APC.
"There's too many of 'em!" cried Tunnel Rat as he ducked back into the personnel carrier. Little did he know: this was only the beginning.
The loading ramp closest cargo truck opened, and a black Stinger jeep backed out. Its rear bed carried four red medium-sized anti-tank missiles. The other truck-trailer released a HISS tank.
"How the hell did Iraqi terrorists afford a HISS tank?" asked an amazed Dusty as he shot a spread of FAMAS fire at a group of grenade-throwing terrorists.
"I'm sure Cobra cut them a great deal." Growled Stalker while reloading his rifle.
"Heavy Metal! Forget those sheds! Get that HISS!" cried Flint.
It seemed hopeless: the terrorists now had five times the soldiers and twice as many vehicles. Well-rested, they had yet another advantage against the beaten and worn out Joes.
Forced to keep positions around their vehicles, the Joe team was desperately trying o keep themselves from being shot as they scrambled for their lives. Thankfully, it was a turkey shoot—easy pickin's. But the Joes had nowhere to run, and knew that it was only a matter of time before they were torn apart.
But Joes don't break that easily.
Whether you believe in guardian angles or just dumb luck, the team received help of some sort when a fast-moving glitter dropped from the sky and raced across the desert. Very few people in the ensuing chaos noticed it, but Dusty, with his knowledge of what should be on or even above a desert, did.
"Guys!" he shouted, pointing east, "Get down! Air strike!"
As the Joes looked east in confusion, they started dropping like drugged insects in an old jam jar. A second glitter disconnected itself from the larger one, then zipped across the night sky like a shooting star. It grew bigger and bigger until the terrorists finally caught sight of it, and started screaming in panic. They attempted to scatter, but it was far too late for that. The guided bomb struck the easternmost eighteen-wheeler and transformed it into a massive inferno of heat and shrapnel. Terrorists all across the desert area were blown off of their feet or torn apart by flying shards of metal. The Ferrets barely managed to zoom away with their transitions in tact.
As the smoking debris sprinkled from the air, the Joes stood back up and assessed the situation. Well over a third of the terrorist group had been killed by the Stealth Fighter's bombing run. Although still outnumbered, a G.I. Joe victory seemed much more feasible.
"Okay, Joes! Let's take this scum down!" rallied Flint as he waved the team of seven on.
Still in a state of confusion, the terrorists were even easier pickings for the Joe team—at least for a few seconds. After about six more of them fell, they regrouped and began hailing a barrage of grenades again. Heavy SAW-rifle fire soon rejoined the battle, breaking up the Joe's attack formation.
While shooting back at some grenade-throwers hidden behind a cargo-truck, Flint called over to his sniper, "Low-Light! Get rid of those grenades! Now!"
Without a response, Low-Light crawled behind a lump of broken trailer metal and set up his rifle. In less than a minute, two grenade-throwers were pushing up daisies.
Dusty only caught a glimpse of the flicker, but his common sense warned him that a grenade was flying at him. Jumping to his right, he avoided the hard blast from the small explosive. As he tried to stand back up, however, the damage was clear: shrapnel had eaten up his leg. It wasn't fully broken, like Spirit's, but it sure hurt like hell.
Screams of Arabic pierced Dusty's ears, and he looked over to see a terrorist, clad in Desert Scorpion gear, running at him, carrying a huge sword.
"Geeze!" cried the desert trooper. Rolling to his right, the Joe dodged the attack, but was in too much pain to kick back. He no longer held his FAMAS to shoot back with. All he had was his knife, which looked ridiculously small at the moment.
Once again, the terrorist swung the sword at Dusty, who managed to avoid the hack, praising all the training that Snake-Eyes had forced him to endure. Now able to get a kick out with his good right leg, Dusty booted the terrorist, who fell backwards onto the gravel. Painfully scrambling after him, the Joe desert trooper crawled onto his opponent's body with his knife raised, preparing to stab him through the chest…and froze.
It was…it was all too similar. There he was, looking down upon a helpless person that would soon be dead. Dusty fought to keep himself from dropping his knife. The terrorist noticed the struggle in Dusty's eyes, and using his outstretched right arm, grabbed his sword, pushed the Joe away and slashed Dusty's left side.
Screaming in pain, and acting on reflex, Dusty rolled back and jabbed the knife into the chest of the terrorist, who began coughing, choking, then collapsed to the ground.
Slowly rising to his feet, Dusty stared down in terror, but clenched his eyes and grabbed the cut along his side beneath his arm. Looking over at the sword, Dusty felt a chill.
It was a scimitar.