Chapter Four
Secrets Within
A giant rooster tail of dust dragged behind a group of small dirt-bike motorcycles, appearing to physically attach them to the vast, sand-strewn plains, far away from any rocky trails and red sand plateaus. Dirt-bikes were not an oddity in this area. It was common practice for the young and the adventurous to take their motorcycles out for long rides across the desert. It was even a popular tourist activity—one of the few things to do in this isolated region that owed any and all nearby activity to a mighty oasis that breathed life into a dead land.
But these bikes weren't here for the fun of it, and failed at keeping that fact out of view. They drove in a formation, and a couple of the riders were inexperienced—a couple of small crashes revealed that truth fairly quickly. They also kept themselves far away from the oasis city of Sabha. The group of bikers stayed over two miles away from town—although the chance of being recognized was slim, they still did not want anyone looking at them.
It didn't take long to calculate the group's destination: the group of bikers were heading straight for the old chemical weapons plant. This actually caught the attention of the local law enforcement, who contacted the military police at the base outside of Sabha. The Libyan Army sent out a jeep to investigate the bikers…
Until the bikers turned away from the weapons plant and headed for the abandoned warehouse and scrapyard. Then the Libyan jeep slammed its brakes, turned around and raced back to its base.
Apparently, the Libyan Army was frightened of Destro's little operation.
1.
Skidding to a stop, the lead motorcycle spew forth a puff of dust that drifted above the ground towards the warehouse, still a mile away across the desert. The bike's driver pulled off her helmet and shook out her long red hair as the other bikes came to their stops alongside her, their dusty chrome reflecting just enough of the bright sunlight to make a shining wall of light.
As he pulled off his helmet, Chuckles asked, "Is that the place, Scarlett?"
Lifting up her binoculars, the pale-and-unable-to-tan-very-well woman nodded. "Yes. We're still too far away to see any specific defenses, but there are plenty of small buildings around the main structure to place guards."
Mainframe walked up next to Scarlett, coughing. The desert air was hard for him to breathe. "I lost the tracking device's signal over four hours ago. Cough. Just because our GPS pinpointed it to that building doesn't mean it's still in there.
"It doesn't matter. We still have to check it out, but we're going to have to wait until it gets a bit darker." Looking behind herself, Scarlett smiled. "I'm glad you two could join us. Without your help, we wouldn't have made it this far in so short a time."
Grunt smiled in humble thanks while Crankcase used the praise to strengthen his bold stance even further.
"Hey, it was nothin'. You guys were just lucky that Grunt and I could be re-routed from our flight to Iraq and dropped off in Tunis."
"Was it hard getting down here and acquiring the motorcycles?" asked Mainframe.
"Well, it wasn't too hard at first." explained Grunt, "We didn't have any trouble in Tunis. After all, when was the last time Cobra took any interest there? But we really had to wrap ourselves up and hitch a ride through the desert until we reached Sabha. Avoiding the law in Libya isn't too hard, if you take the long routes, like we did."
"And getting the bikes was a piece of cake." gloated Crankcase. "It's about the biggest tourist activity in the area, and there were plenty of dealers to choose from. Of course, we're supposed to have them back in about an hour or so."
Scarlett shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I don't think these bikes are going back. I hate to do things like this, but I'm afraid we have to take these to the end.
Snake Eyes had stepped away from the group of Joes and was keeping an eye on a small mesa sitting a quarter-mile to the southwest of the warehouse. Chuckles walked up to him. "Look like a good place to hang out, Snake?"
Slowly nodding his head, the Joe commando walked back to Scarlett and pointed towards the mesa. Getting his message she smiled.
"Okay, Joes, Snake Eyes has found us a place to hang out for a few hours. Let's head over to that mesa and take some cover." The group put their helmets back on, revved their engines back to life in a deafening burst of power, then began racing their little stampede of manufactured animals across the red sands.
2.
After the scarred, shriveled right hand tapped the deck of cards onto the table, its left counterpart parted the stack and together with the right hand, began shuffling the cards. Quivering as it reached to the top, the right hand began flicking cards out to the three men sitting at the dusty plywood table. After the dealer dealt the last card and leaned back in his creaking wooden chair, he slowly looked down at his cards.
"Hey, why don't you ever let us cut the cards, Rais?" asked a small man, thin with a long nose and an over-sized mustache. Behind him sat piles of boxes of cardboard boxes, many of them empty, many containing treasures from travels all across the world.
"Because he is our great leader, and can always be trusted. Has he not explained that to you, Bakri?" sneered the large man sitting across from the dealer. An iPod hung from his broad shoulders, which were themselves clad in heavy armor plating, shaped a bit like football gear. The view of his face was blocked out by a low-hanging light-bulb, swinging on a cable only a yard above the table. Few wires snaked their way throughout this thinly constructed wooden shed, decayed on every side, miraculously keeping itself standing due only to the mercy of God.
"Madani, you may hide like a coward behind all of your expensive garb, but I know you are the wisest of us all!" The hairy one, buried beneath a thick beard and long black hair covering almost every inch of his arms and legs started laughing and snorting. The others at the table just started shaking their heads. Shamim was a moron, who could never get a complement right. His eyes were so far hidden behind his fat glasses that his eyes were unreadable. You could never be sure of his intentions.
Bakri looked down at his cards. A pair of tens, a Jack, a three and a seven. Not too impressive, but okay. Wrinkling his head in frustration, he slapped his hand onto the table, rattling the plywood fairly hard. "Why do we always play this stupid Western game? There are plenty of other games that we could play, and yet Rais always insists that we play this game of sin!"
"Oh no, not again." sighed Madani.
Rais' old hands gently set his hand of cards onto the table and looked at the deck. "You may hate the West, Bakri, but I do not. I lived in Morocco for fifteen years of my life, in Casablanca, and learned many ways of the West. And still I embrace my Islamic heritage. Do not hate the West unless you are wise to its ways. Has the West abused us? Of course. But too many of our kind hate it simply because we need someone to blame for our troubles, and I say that is foolish. There is an old American saying, 'Do not judge another man until you have walked in his shoes', and I have made this a rule for my life."
Bakri sat in his chair for a moment, staring at Rais, then shook his head. "You seem to be wise, old man, but if you are, then why are you with us, working for the smuggler Muhammad-Rabah?"
"Even the wisest man needs to eat. And I have no money to pay the bills. Providing Muhammad with a safehouse in my shed for his men is not evil, provided I am allowed to teach them some common sense."
"All you ever do is teach, old man." Bakri stood up and walked over to the window, "And play poker." Gasping in panic, he then ran over to the door. "By Allah! Muhammad's car is coming here!"
3.
"…and do not let her loose, not even to relieve herself. If she must do that, give her a bucket."
Shamim started snickering as he studied the heavily-robed woman shackled to the pillar in a standing position at the back of the shed. She wore glasses, too, and her eyes were a mysterious green. Shamim hoped that he could speak to her.
"And there shall be no talking with her." continued Muhammad. "She is a seductress, and cannot be trusted. Stay away from her. If anyone speaks to her or even looks at her, they will be killed!" Shamim turned his head away immediately.
"How long shall we keep her here?" asked Rais.
"As long as I need you to." replied Muhammad as he handed over a thick wad of cash. The old man quickly grabbed the bundle.
"Then please rest assured that she will be well taken care of here."
"Do not make her too comfortable." Muhammad laughed as he left the shed.
As the sound of the luxury car thundered into the distance, the four guards looked at each other. Rais looked down at the money, then began handing it out to Bakri, Madani and Shamim. After the hand-out was over, Bakri griped. "Hey, why do you get more than us, old man?"
"Because it is my shed!"
"Yes, but we do all the work!"
"But I must pay the bill for the shed. You will waste your money!"
"Do you think me so much of a fool?"
"You know, I can pay you one hundred times that much money."
Rais and Bakri froze, caught off guard by what they heard. Mudani and Shamim had heard it, too and were desperately trying to resist looking over to the woman.
"If money is what you want, I can pay you a hundred times what Muhammad pays you. No, a thousand times. Do you want a million dollars? I could arrange that. Just let me go, and it is all yours." The Baroness was using her most sultry voice, the one that could break Destro's will in a heartbeat.
"Quiet yourself, woman, or we will silence you forever." warned Bakri.
Baroness smiled. "I do not fear your threats. If you harm me, Muhammad-Rabah will kill you. But if you help me, I will kill him, and reward you forever. Which choice makes more sense?"
"Muzzle her, Madani." ordered Rais.
"Y-yes, sir." The giant mercenary walked over with a bandana to tie around the Baroness' mouth. But before he could tie it on, Baroness got out one last warning:
"If you don't release me, my soldiers will kill you. This is your only chance to be rich forever! Take it, or—." Before she could finish, Madani wrapped her mouth, but before he could finish, short bursts of AK-47 fire forced his body to crash into the wall behind the Baroness, then slide to the ground.
Looking over, the Cobra Queen saw the elderly man standing next to the hairy man, both men holding smoking assault rifles. The youngest man lay sprawled out on the ground, much like the big guy.
"You have promised us riches, woman." said the old man. "Have we earned them?"
The Baroness smiled. "Oh, rest assured, my wonderful saviors, your rewards will be…unbelievable."
4.
It had been nearly four hours, and although the sun had not completely disappeared from the horizon, it was falling behind the distant dunes, and the blue sky had transformed into a gray haze. A few lights had turned on around the warehouse, but it was still too bright out for them to cast very strong spotlights.
Keeping a wide spread and moving as fast as possible, the team of six Joes kept low to the desert floor. Split into two groups, they would assault two different sides of the warehouse. Limited to the small arms that Grunt and Crankcase found on the Libyan black market, they all carried Uzis or Spectre sub-machine guns—small, easily-concealed favorites of modern terrorists; fairly old weapons, but state-of-the-art was not something to be found in the deserts of the Sahara.
Scarlett crept in closer to a watch-tower on the western-side of the warehouse, then took a knee. Grunt, who was ten yards to her left, trotted over to her and knelt down beside her.
"What's the problem?"
Pointing to the towers, Scarlett frowned. "There are no guards. Anywhere."
"Well, somebody was around to turn the lights on."
"That could be automated."
As they nodded to each other, Mainframe ran over. "Hey guys, this may interest you: this isn't a warehouse at all, it's a production plant!"
Scarlett whipped her eyes back onto the building. "What?"
"Well, look at it. It's got steam towers, huge power cables and massive amounts of piping that lead in and out of the place. Not to mention all the heavy vehicle traffic that has left its mark on the ground."
After looking at the truck tire-tracks on the sand, Scarlett agreed. "So apparently Destro has kept a production plant hidden inside this beat-up old warehouse for a long time. No wonder we've never picked it up on our satellite scans."
Grunt lifted his helmet and scratched his head. "Do you think Destro finished his weapon already and took off with it?"
"No." replied Mainframe. "He received the parts about twelve hours before we arrived. It would take a whole day to put those pieces together. They're not exactly 'snap-together.'"
"Yeah, but did he anticipate our arrival and leave before it was done?" asked Grunt.
"The question we need to focus on is:" warned Scarlett, "Are there any traps waiting for us?"
5.
A lieutenant Iron Grenadier drove his jeep along Destro's Dominator's right side and began waving his left arm. Destro caught sight of the action and nodded his head at the officer, giving a thumbs-up signal. The lieutenant then picked up a hefty rifle from the back-seat of the jeep and aimed it at the Dominator. Aiming it carefully at the Dominator's cockpit, he fired the gun, launching a small magnetic clamp connected to a long copper-wire cable. A wheel whirred at a high pitch as the clamp pulled the cable though the air and slammed it onto the side of the Dominator's cockpit, just below the canopy. Destro donned a set of headphones, and the lieutenant did the same. Transmitted communications were unacceptable, especially out in a desert, so Destro had a special "cup-against-the-door" technology created for communiqué during silent troop movements. It worked surprisingly well.
"Lord Destro, I am sorry to bother you, but we have received a transmission from Tunisia. It appears that the Baroness has been liberated from her captivity by a pair of her captors. She is on her way to meet us!"
Although happy to hear of his lover's rescue, Destro was still nervous. "Does she have the device with her?"
"That…that is unknown at this time."
"Then we must risk revealing our position and transmit an order to Firefly and his team. I want them to find out where that device is and brink it back to me at all costs!"
"Yes, Lord Destro!"
The magnetic clamp detached itself from the side of the Dominator and reeled itself back into place on the Grenadier's curious rifle. The jeep carrying the lieutenant skidded to a stop, turned around and waited for the cargo truck carrying the transmitter to catch up to it.
Destro had no intention of stopping his convoy; he needed to meet up with the Baroness in Tunisia as-soon-as-possible. She was in danger, and he needed to be with her as soon as possible. He had forsaken attaching the two new parts that had arrived from the Philippines in order to rush to her rescue. Tunis was still eight hours away, and there was nothing he could do to speed things up.
The Matrix Cannon was as ready as it could be, and now that he had the parts from the Philippines, he was only waiting for the part from the Baroness; then, Destro's next weapon of dominance would be complete…of course, he still needed to reach the new secret Cobra temple in Peru. It was the only place left on Earth where he could construct it and test it.
Curse his dependence on Cobra. Something always seemed to go wrong. Thankfully the Baroness had escaped from Muhammad, but if she didn't have the Matrix Cannon's shock amplifier, Cobra Commander would gripe for hours.
6.
Displaying a painfully-inviting rear-entrance, the southern wall of the warehouse seemed almost too easy. Despite the extra guard tower, there was nothing to fear, seeing as how there were, well, no guards. That fact had been quickly assessed by Snake Eyes when still a hundred yards out; if the lights don't flicker, then there is obviously no one walking in front of them.
There was more to this building than met the eye, and the Joe commando was anxious to find out its secrets; but he was more than a ninja, he was also a member of the United States' Armed Forces, and part of the most elite team of soldiers in the entire world. Although he knew he could do it faster and cleaner by himself, he learned long ago to never underestimate the value of someone covering your backside.
Looking over to Chuckles and Crankcase, he pointed them to positions behind the towers. They would provide him cover as he quickly, yet silently raced through the shadows towards the back door. If Destro had rigged the door to blow, Snake Eyes wanted to take the hit, not one of the less-experienced Joes. He knew how to sniff out bombs ten-times better than Chuckles or Crankcase, although those two cocky blowhards would never admit it.
Once the other Joes were in position, Snake Eyes ran far to the right, circling around to face the eastern side of the building, where there were less lights. Once there, he quickly ran for the eastern wall, when a glimmer of light caught the corner of his eye. Moving completely by reflex, the Joe commando rolled to his right across the ground and looked back. Wobbling pierced into the desert floor was Snake Eyes' katana—the one that Storm Shadow had taken from him back at Arthur's Seat.
Quickly looking up to the roof of the warehouse, the Joe saw a white ninja look down upon him from the building's edge, with his sword drawn and head-band flapping in the light breeze. Snake Eyes turned to grab his sword, and in classic cliché, when he looked back, the ninja was gone.
7.
Crankcase stood pinned against the tower keeping his Spectre sub-machine gun aimed steadily at the door. He didn't want an Uzi. Everybody had seen and used an Uzi. Spectres were a little bit less common—some European design that ended up in terrorist hands. Surprise, surprise. How many terrorists use an M-16, right? It all had to do with cost, of course, but that was what was great about the good old U.S. of A.: we could afford a little class.
What the heck?
Snake Eyes came running across the backside of the warehouse at full speed with no regard for the lights. He no longer held his Uzi, now he held…a sword? Spinning the blade into an upright position, the Joe commando swung down and chopped the handle off the door. Casting away all inhibitions, he then kicked the door in with a massive burst of leg power. Although he was still forty yards away, Crankcase could hear pounding footsteps as Snake Eyes tromped up a flight of stairs. Then, as if someone hit a "mute" button, the sound was gone.
Chuckles ran over to Crankcase expressing a reflection of the confused shock that the Joe vehicle driver displayed. "What the hell was that all about?"
"Must be some new 'Shock and Awe' tactic by the Snake-Man."
"Maybe, but where did he get the sword?"
Crankcase shrugged. "You're asking me? I was told to find these little pea-shooters, not a sword."
"There's only one thing that Scarlett would say to do right now."
"Go in after him?"
"Go in after him."
"Damn."
8.
"Something just happened on the south side!" cried Mainframe.
Scarlett ran a few steps over to look, then stopped. "Snake Eyes and his group must have found some resistance."
"Shouldn't we go help them?" asked Grunt.
"No. If they need help they'll call for it." Scarlett turned he attention back to the western side of the building. "There's no way into the warehouse from here. Let's head around to the northern side and see if we can crack through the main doors."
9.
The climb up the stairway would never register in Snake Eyes' memory. His entire focus was on reaching the roof and what would happen when he reached it. How he reached the roof had no effect on his mind. The only other thing in the universe that had any impact of the ninja's mind was the stair that would place him onto the roof. If he ran up to that step he would be torn apart by one of Storm Shadow's arrows. If he didn't go to it, he would be torn apart by dishonor.
When he reached the doorway to the roof, he wasn't surprised to see it wide open. The Joe commando was extremely cautious about proceeding the final few feet up to the roof. Snake Eyes slowly pulled his mask off and hung it onto the end of his katana. Quickly raising the sword above the top step's edge, he shook in surprise when an arrow sliced through the mask. He knew it would happen, but it was still a frightening sight.
Knowing he had only a second to move, Snake Eyes ran up the final few steps and jumped onto the roof from three steps down, narrowly avoiding a second arrow shot from Storm Shadow that was aimed ahead of the Joe, expecting a roof-entrance via the top step. Snake Eyes rolled onto the dusty roof and scampered left.
Storm Shadow cast his bow to the floor as Snake Eyes ran behind a large steel chimney. "My brother, I knew that you would come; our paths are intertwined forever. You can never hide from me, nor I from you." The white ninja drew his sword, and began marching towards the tower. "Face me, brother!"
Snake Eyes stepped out from behind the steel chimney, carrying only his sword, and no longer wearing his mask. Despite the burns and scars that smothered his opponent's face, Storm Shadow smiled when he saw it.
"It is good to see your eyes again, Snake Eyes. Your dark mask has hid them from me for far too long."
The blond Joe's hairs ruffled as a cold gust of wind passed across the black ninja and spread its chill across Storm Shadow's body. Snake Eyes raised his sword slowly, but the white ninja kept his pointed to the floor.
"Many people claim that we are equals, brother, but I say that is fantasy! I shall always be stronger than you, Snake Eyes, for you have chosen the path of the timid, of the weak-minded. You lack the passion that a true warrior relies upon to draw his inner strength." Storm Shadow raised his sword and roared as he charged at Snake Eyes, swinging his katana in an easily-blocked move, but quickly followed it with a hard kick to Snake Eyes' side. The black ninja swung his sword low, which Storm Shadow jumped over and combined with a hard chop that Snake Eyes barely blocked. Attempting to retaliate with a left punch, Snake Eyes missed Storm Shadow's face. The white ninja pulled back his katana and attempted to stab his brother, but Snake Eyes managed to turn left and avoid the maneuver. Storm Shadow jumped backwards to gain new ground, then charged back in at Snake Eyes with his sword raised high over his head again. Raining down a series of sword attacks, Storm Shadow pinned Snake Eyes into a defensive position, and once the attacks were complete, he thrusted forward a right-leg kick that knocked Snake Eyes back against the steel tower. The Joe commando fell to his knees.
Storm Shadow pointed his sword to the floor once again. "I pity you, Snake Eyes, my brother. I pity the man I once loved enough to risk my own life to save. I gave you the honor of becoming an honorary member of my family. And what have you done but insult the Arashikage clan with your constant attempts to destroy me?"
Snake Eyes looked up at Storm Shadow. "There! Your eyes tell me everything! Today is truly a first for me! For I am no longer fighting a black mask, I am fighting my brother Snake Eyes for the first time in my life! You wrongly accused me of killing your master a long time ago, but that matter has been settled between us. Now we fight because I want your name erased from the Arashikage clan, and you feel that I am disgracing the clan through my actions, and you wish to save me." Storm Shadow swung up the sword and pointed it at Snake Eyes. "I say you are wrong! I say you are a fool! You have no right to make choices for the Arashikage clan! Even if I must look into the dying eyes of my favorite brother tonight, you will not leave this roof alive!"
As Storm Shadow took a stance preparing for another assault, Snake Eyes reached around to his back and pulled something off of his belt. Slowly lifting the spandex up to the top of his head, he began pulling his black facemask on; only his eyes were left to be seen. Storm Shadow began shaking. Snake Eyes then detached his visor from his belt and hooked it on over his eyes, hiding himself from Tommy Arashikage.
"V-very well, Snake Eyes. Then we no longer fight as brothers! I am Storm Shadow, agent of Cobra!" Fighting to keep himself calm, the white ninja stood in defense this time and waited for the attack.
It came.
10.
"What's going on up there, Chuckles? I keep hearing sword-fighting, then a lot of talking. Is it a fencing class?"
"Shut-up, Crankcase," snapped the Joe undercover agent as he walked down the stairs, "There's some really deep stuff going on up there."
"Well, shouldn't we go help him?"
Chuckles pinned the Joe vehicle-driver to the wall. "Look, man. If there's one thing I've learned this last week of working with Snake Eyes and Scarlett it's that you don't mess around with their personal matters. They go old, they go deep. And if you throw Storm Shadow into the mix, they get mean."
Shoving Chuckles off, Crankcase griped, "Okay, okay, don't get pissy. Well, what should we do here, then? Clean the bathrooms?"
Pointing to a door about a story down the stairs, the undercover agent suggested, "We came here to explore the place, right? Well, let's start explorin'."
The door wasn't much bigger than any other door they had seen, but it was solid steel and six inches thick. Chuckles and Crankcase could feel just about every muscle, bone and vein pop as they pressed on the swinging wall. It was obviously supposed to be powered, but was just free-swinging dead-weight at the moment. The massive barrier eventually opened and the two Joes stood at the edge of a vortex, completely devoid of light.
"Damn. There ain't an ounce of light in this place." said Crankcase. I can't see a damn thing!"
"Well, that's what we brought flashlights for, right?" Chuckles clicked on his little fountain of light and began swinging it around the room. The walls were completely black, with non-reflective paint, and every shelf and piece of metal in the room was covered with the paint as well. Thin book and storage shelves sat against the walls, as well as a small computer station. Everything was small, apparently to make space for room's main feature: it was a massive work table, covered with modern construction tools and cables, all pitch black in color. Above the table hung massive robotic arms equipped with claws, laser tools and welders.
Crankcase whistled. "Wow. This sure looks like Destro's play area."
"Sure does. He didn't want any light getting in here, did he?"
As the Joes looked around the room, Crankcase tripped over something. "Dammit! What the hell is this here for?"
Chuckles laughed. "Stumble over one of Destro's fancy toys, Cranky?"
"Nah." The Joe vehicle-driver picked up what he tripped over. "Just this black box. There sure are a lot of them over here."
"Crankcase, you just made my day." laughed Chuckles.
"Huh?"
11.
Firefly sat on the roof of the white building, studying the decrepit shed that sat near the Port of Tunis, waiting impatiently for the sun to set so that he could make his move. He could set explosive traps anytime, anywhere, but organizing a trio of British boneheads would require a bit more…hesitation.
Muhammad-Rabah's delivery of the Baroness to this secluded sight was the biggest mistake that the North African gangster could have done. It provided Firefly with all the cover he needed to rescue Destro's girlfriend and escape without a scratch. As for the Iron Grenadiers; well, their health was their responsibility. He just had to help them get to the Baroness.
Speeking of the "Three Stooges," the skinny one who smelled like potato-chips came crawling over to Firefly. "Uh…sir. If you might notice, the Baroness is leaving the building, escorted by two men."
Instead of thinking of new ways to insult his enemies, Firefly focused back on the shed and watched a robed woman exiting the building, followed by two rather swarthy-looking men who were obviously hiding firearms. The Baroness was no longer tied up.
"All right, uh…"
The Grenadier smiled. "Popinjay, sir."
"Popin--. Okay, you're going by 'P' from now on. P, get the others set up for sniper shots at those thugs. I'm dropping to the streets and going to grab the Baroness when they fall."
"Y-yes, sir."
Firefly glared at the Iron Grenadier. "You a-holes better not shoot me. I don't die without taking my killer with me."
Popinjay gulped. "Y-yes, sir."
Cobra's saboteur picked up his sub-machine gun and ran towards the stairway off of the roof. The other soldiers grouped together and began attaching sights onto their rifles.
12.
"D-do not worry, Baroness," said Rais, "I have…friends who own a boat out at the Port. I…I am sure they will help us."
"You do not mean--."
"Silence, Shamim!" Rais slapped his fellow mercenary in the back of the head.
"I don't want to be captured by Muhammad again, boys." The clicking of the Baroness' feet was just as seductive as her voice.
"It is difficult to avoid his informants, but if we are quick, we will succeed."
"And then we will be--." Blood spouted from Shamim's chest, just before a loud cracking noise echoed from the roof of a nearby building. The mercenary grabbed his chest and collapsed to the ground.
"Shamim!" cried Rais, who bent down to grab his friend—and felt a bullet whiz across his scalp. Another cracking noise snapped in the background, and the concrete a yard from him chipped. Baroness crouched down and picked up Shamim's dropped AK-47. Rais cocked his AK-47 and spun around, looking up at the white building down the street. "Baroness! Get away! There must be snipers on that building down there! We must run, now!"
But as the old mercenary turned around, his jaw dropped as a chill wrapped his body. The Baroness stood looking at him with a cold stare, aiming Shamim's AK-47 at him with her well-experienced arms. Rais hung his head low and accepted the shot to the stomach without any pleas for mercy.
As the old man collapsed onto his fallen friend, Firefly came running out from an alley behind the shed. Baroness tossed the rifle to the ground.
"You had no need to kill them." snarled the Queen of Cobra, without even looking at the saboteur. "I had already secured my freedom and informed Destro of it."
"How was I supposed to know?" replied Firefly as he strapped his submachine gun onto his backpack. "I was just doing what I was paid to do."
"Destro and I paid you to make sure I wouldn't be captured like this. You failed miserably. Don't expect any pay."
Firefly kicked one of the AK-47s. "The hell I won't! Look, lady, I just saved your butt! You owe me!"
Finally staring at the saboteur, the Baroness replied, "As I explained, I had things well under my control. I had already saved myself. You've just made things a lot messier."
"Messier? Fine, then, Miss Tight-Fist. Get out of this country by yourself. I'm done!" With that, Firefly stormed off back down the alley. The Baroness simply frowned and began dusting off her robes. After a few moments, her three Iron Grenadiers came walking to her from down the street.
"Madam Baroness! I am glad to see that you are all right!" said Reynolds.
"Where is Firefly?" asked Popinjay.
"He had to take a break." answered the Baroness, dryly. "Get these bodies into the shed, and leave your weapons with them."
"Yes, mam."
13.
Popinjay, Reynolds and Wilson finished the work quickly, then escorted the Baroness to their Volkswagon Polo parked two blocks away. To their surprise, the car was gone.
"I, I don't understand." whimpered Wilson. "We left it right here. I thought that crime was supposed to be low in Islamic countries!"
The Baroness clicked over, grabbed his shoulder to turn him around, then punched him square in the face. As he covered his bloody nose and she shook her aching knuckles, the Cobra Queen screamed at him, "Firefly took the car! Think about it, you damn fool!"
Her rash actions drew the attention of some passersby, some of whom looked angry at what happened, and interested in enforcing their own ideals.
"We had best be going, Madam Baroness." suggested Popinjay.
Nodding her head, she replied, "There is only one Cobra safehouse in Tunis, and it is a long walk from here, but we need to get to it, ASAP."
A pair of young local men walked up to the group, speaking boldly in Arabic and pointing at the Baroness. Reynolds gave a short reply, and the two men looked even more confused. "What do they want?" asked the Baroness.
The two men barked out an obvious protest to the woman's talking. Reynolds spoke quietly. "They saw you punch Wilson, and want to take you to the authorities. I told them that they can't. You are our friend."
Three more men walked up to the group of Iron Grenadiers from the other side, looking just as determined to take the law into their own hands. The first two men began speaking again. Popinjay asked the question this time. "What did they say?"
"They say that you could not possibly be our friend, Baroness, and they want to know why we want to defend you."
"So now we are the bad guys?" Wilson painfully snorted out a laugh; it only enraged the men even more, who reached for the Baroness, attempting to pull her to her safety. The Iron Grenadiers pushed back at the men, with little success, until one of the Arab men pulled off Reynold's robe, revealing the long knife that he carried beneath it. Screaming in fear, the Arab stumbled backwards and tripped over the feet of one of his friends. He crashed onto his back and was knocked unconscious by the impact onto the concrete. The first two young men saw the knife, but instead of backing away, they jumped for it, and began a struggle with Reynolds for control. Connecting a jaw-breaking punch to the Grenadier's face, the younger of the two men sent the mercenary face-first onto the sidewalk. Seeing the blade free for the taking, the other young man knelt down, grabbed it and ripped it free of Reynolds' belt.
Upon hearing loud threats, the rest of the brawlers stopped their wrestling and turned around. Vibrating with fear, the young man cried out commands to back away. Following the actions of the Arab men, Popinjay and Wilson moved back. Feeling a bit more in control, the young man stood up, and waved the other Arab men towards the Iron Grenadiers, calling out more orders. They firmly grasped the white men and held them and twisted their arms behind their backs. The other young man knelt down and picked up Reynolds' limp body, then dragged it over by his friends.
Suddenly, it sunk in to everybody: Where was the Baroness?
With everyone spinning around in every direction, they all scanned the streets, but the sidewalks had flooded with people that had come to watch the skirmish. The armed young man cried out to the crowd asking if anyone had seen the woman, but only received screams of panic directed at his naïve waving of the large knife.
Sirens hailed as police cars finally showed up, breaking through the wall of people. Officers poured from the vehicles with guns in their hands and their fingers ready to shoot. Despite their best efforts to explain what had happened that day, the group of Arab men were arrested along with the Iron Grenadiers, but would serve much longer prison sentences.