Chapter 6

Onward and Upward

Snake Eyes stared out of the window, watching the cruise ships pulling into the docks resting on the rim of the city of Tunis. It was a beautiful day, with a rich blue sky blanketing the green tint of the Mediterranean Sea.

But the black ninja didn't care about that.

He was lost in thought, with the beauty of the visions before him blocked out by a mail of painful memories constructed from his visions of Storm Shadow atop Arthur's Seat and Destro's weapons warehouse. He didn't want to fight his clan brother, but as long as he felt that way, Storm Shadow's hunt would never end.

It took all the strength she had to keep Scarlett from wrapping her arms around her lover and whisper soft encouragements into his ears, but it didn't take a mask-less face to convey the point that Snake Eyes wanted to be left alone. The man could express his emotions purely through his stance.

The Joe team was spread about the room, with most of the guys collapsed onto the better-than-average hotel furniture from fatigue. Their dirty, torn and even scorched clothing showed no mercy to the creamy white décor spread throughout the four-star hotel room. In a show of chivalrous courtesy, the men allowed Scarlett control of the recliner, since her leg was wounded and still painfully wrapped in Grunt's third-rate field-bandage. Mainframe, naturally, was sitting at the room's small desk, working on his computer.

Chuckles walked in with the manager, who squirmed as he watched the U.S. Army men slumping all over his pressure furniture. "There's no doubt about it, Red, this was Destro's little hideaway while he stayed in Tunis." reported Chuckles to Scarlett.

"Yes, yes, Mr. Destro stays here most often." stated the manager. "This is his favorite room. He enjoys the view."

"When did he leave?" asked Scarlett, trying not to think of Snake Eyes.

The manager nervously hung his head down, debating on whether it was more dangerous to answer the question or to keep his mouth shut. When Snake Eyes turned his head around, the answer became obvious. "He left two days ago, but I do not know where, I swear to you!"

"Two days?" gasped Crankcase, "That means he was in Tunis while we were out getting our clocks cleaned in his warehouse!"

Grunt stood up sniffing from the sofa and joined Snake Eyes by the window. "Our intelligence sources in this area aren't flawless. Everywhere we checked before you guys arrived in North Africa said that Destro was at his warehouse."

"Don't start kicking yourself just yet, Grunt." said Mainframe. The Joe team looked over to the computer-whiz quickly typing away on his powerful laptop computer.

"What have you got, Mainframe?" asked Scarlett. She nodded to Chuckles, who turned the manager around, handed him a tip and walked him out the door.

"According to our intelligence reports, satellite surveillance showed Destro leaving his warehouse and heading north towards Tripoli the same day that we moved north across the border into Libya."

Grunt interjected, "And since we were out in the field, we couldn't update our trackings of Destro. We missed him by less than a day."

"A day?" whined Crankcase, "I told you we should have commandeered the smugglers' trucks and just forgot about the bikes."

"Quit your griping, Crankcase!" growled Scarlett, "That's not our style and you know it. What we need to do now is figure out where Destro is and chase him down."

"What does your computer say, Mainframe?" asked Chuckles.

Shaking his head, the computer specialist sighed, "Nothing. Whatever the tin-head is doing, it's out of sight."

"I can give you Destro." The Joe team, including Snake Eyes, all whipped their heads towards the doorway; a fat, stout, middle-aged Tunisian man stood a foot into the hallway, with his head hunched over and his fingers intertwined like the roots of some sickly weed.

Crankcase whipped out his 9mm and aimed it into the hall. "Who the hell are you?" Chuckles ran over to the man, pulled him into the room and began searching him for weapons.

"I…am Muhammad-Rabah."

Chuckles paused for a moment. "You mean the number one criminal in north-central Africa?"

"All of north Africa, if you please."

The team was dumbstruck. Scarlett was the first to break the odd silence. "Okay, Mr. Muhammad-Rabah, we're listening."

"It may be most difficult to believe, but I hate Destro more than you do. He has been my foe longer than you have even known him. I have an unbreakable network of crime in this city, American G.I. Joes, but it lets me know everything. I knew that you were here, for example." The Joes didn't know how to respond to that response. "I usually sell or trade information, but because I hate Destro so much, I am willing to tell you this information for free: he flew away from here in a plane, two days ago."

Scarlett's eyes narrowed as she debated the believability of this new information. Before she could reply, Chuckles took control of the conversation. "So, my friend, do you really think we will believe you?"

The sickeningly rotten grin hiding deep within Muhammad's fat cheeks spread across the front of his face. "As I told you, I am a man who hates Destro. I have come to tell you the news myself! Is that not an act worthy of trust? I ask nothing of you, only that you swear to use my information to destroy him…and his wench the Baroness."

"The Baroness?" asked Scarlett in surprise. "Why would she interest you?"

Muhammad's grin wrinkled into an angry expression. "That…is information for another day." He turned his expression back into a smile and looked back at Scarlett. "I have said what I wanted to say. May I leave now?"

Chuckles smiled and patted the criminal on his wiggly stomach. "I like you Muhammad, but there has to be more for us." Crankcase's face exploded red; he looked over to Scarlett; surprisingly, she seemed calm. Did she expect this?

"More?" said Muhammad. "I'm about to save you from days of painful intelligence gathering, and you want more? You Americans really are greedy fools!"

Chuckles swung an arm around the Tunisian's shoulders. "You've got to look at it our way: here we are, with a literal fountain of information (that's you) standing at our footsteps, wanting to give us one little tasty tidbit of info, then run off Scott free." Chuckles stared at Muhammad straight in the eyes. "That just doesn't press the pennies, my friend."

Scarlett cut in, "What Chuckles is so elegantly saying, is that we want to know everything you know about Destro's operations in this area; first and foremost what he was recently doing in Libya and then here in Tunisia."

Chuckles patted the crime lord's shoulder. "And just for the heck of it, what was the Baroness doing around here, too?"

Muhammad stared in confusion, then growled. "I am not here to be your lacky! I am here to ruin Destro."

"And Mr. Muhammad," said Chuckles while raising his arms, "by the end of our conversations, you'll have done one hell of a job."

Muhammad thought for a moment, then sighed into submission. "Very well. Things shall be your way. I will give you the information that I know about Destro. No matter what happens to me, that infidel must suffer for what he has done to me."

Scarlett called over her shoulder, "Mainframe! Toss me a pen and paper. I think we're going to be here for a while."

As he tossed a notebook and a feather-tipped hotel-issue pen over to Scarlett, the computer-whiz offered, "I could just type everything."

"No, I need you in contact with the CIA and headquarters confirming anything that Muhammad says. Eventually, I'll need you to get us air tickets out of here." Scarlett turned back to the criminal who was now being sat down in the loveseat across from her recliner. "First question, Muhammad: Where is Destro?"

Muhammad-Rabah thought for a second, then shrugged his shoulders. "Peru."

1.

The Baroness stepped off of the 737-Passenger Jet and onto the wet asphalt runway of Jorge Chavez International Airport. Her legs ached after the long flight down from Mexico City, riding, in all things, Coach Class. Cobra Commander would pay for this insult, that was for certain. Buying the Baroness and Destro cheap tickets onto a packed commercial airliner instead of providing them with their own Lockheed made no sense. What could that hooded hoodlum be up to?

Destro stumbled out of the plane behind the Baroness, groaning from the pain in his legs as well. As much as he liked to brag about his physical prowess, he sure didn't like to be uncomfortable. He also didn't like having to wear a fake beard and hat for so long. It made him itch and sweat, and forced him to visit the 737's bathroom over a dozen times just to he could scratch and wipe his chin.

As the aching pair of lovers walked into the airport's entrance, closely followed by the two disguised Iron Grenadier bodyguards who had joined them on the flights from Africa to Mexico and then to Peru, the Baroness grumbled, "Please tell me that you know why we were reduced to petty commoners for this trip."

"I would deduce that the Commander is highly concerned about security, and does not wish to bring any unwanted attention to our project." replied Destro, not believing his own words.

"Is that also why he had our luggage, including the Matrix Cannon, shipped to Cusco ahead of us?"

Destro growled, but quickly realized it was actually his stomach rumbling.

Baroness smiled. "It appears that you are hungry, my dear."

"Apparently."

Looking towards the food courts, the Baroness nodded. "Are you that hungry?"

Destro looked aghast. "For junk food? I would never—." His stomach rumbled even louder.

The Baroness let out a rare giggle. "I think your stomach disagrees, my lover."

"Very well. Do they have nachos?"

The group headed towards the food court, followed slowly in the distance by a lean man in a black and white checkered shirt who took a seat at a table outside of the Food Courts; he picked up an abandoned newspaper and began reading, religiously keeping one eye locked onto Destro's position.

2.

Stepping out of the Airport's entrance, Destro tugged on his fake beard and looked up into the dark clouds blanketing the Lima sky. Baroness stepped up next to him and wiped off some cheese that had stuck to the beard. The lord of Castle Destro growled.

"We need to get to the private airport quickly. It will rain soon, and I don't want to be stuck here overnight."

"Destro, sir?" The weapons manufacturer looked to his right and saw a young Peruvian man walk up to him, hunched over in nervousness, clad in farmer's clothing and wearing a large hat.

"How do you know who I am?"

The man took off his hat and held it in front of him. "My name is Franco Remeidez. I was hired by Senor Tomax and Senor Xamot and asked to drive you to Cusco."

The Baroness almost screamed in shock. "Drive? It's four-hundred miles to Cusco from here!"

"Y-yes, Senorita. That is what they have paid me for." Taking a step to his side, he pointed to a beat-up old farm truck, complete with wooden side panels and a green paint job. The killing touch were the hay and crates of chickens sitting in the back-end. "This is my truck."

Destro stomped forward and grabbed Franco by the neck. "Do you really know who I am? Do you honestly think I would ride in such a piece of junk? How dare you insult me!"

"P-please, Senor Destro, I am only doing what Tomax and Xamot force me to do! They kidnap my family and take my money! I do not want this!" The farmer's fear turned to a rage that gave him a little ill-be-gotten strength, which let him push Destro away; in a flash, the two Iron Grenadier bodyguards had his shoulders painfully clamped in their powerful hands.

The Baroness smiled and walked up to Franco's left side, waving the bodyguards from his arms. "Now is not the time for anger. We will all get our chance for vengeance against those stupid twins. Right now we simply need to get to Cusco, am I right?"

Franco nervously nodded in agreement. "Ci, senorita."

Looking with interest at the Baroness and stroking his beard, Destro raised his arms in frustration. "Fine! Let's just get going!"

As the group walked over to the old farm truck, Franco put on his hat and looked back at Destro. "There is another problem you may not approve of, Senor."

The weapons manufacturer reached for the truck's door handle and sighed. "How could this situation possibly get any worse?" On cue, a black Pit-Bull slammed against the window, barking like crazy, spewing drool in every direction and scraping its claws against the glass; Destro jumped two feet back and the Baroness shrieked.

"That is Punto." explained the farmer, "He is guard of my farm…now."

"Punto?" Destro ached for a pistol. "A dog will ride inside your truck while we all soak to death in the back end, catching diseases from your chickens?"

Franco shook his head and walked to the back of the truck. "There are tarps." He pulled out some dusty, blue, plastic sheets.

Baroness began to hiss. "I swear I will kill Tomax and Xamot myself."

"I get first shot." growled Destro.

3.

LAN Chile flight 240 pulled up to Gate 7 at the Jorge Chavez International Airport in Lima Peru at 6:32pm. The 747 was basically dropping off a few dozen passengers from Mexico City and picking up a couple dozen more before it completed its flight to Santiago, Chile.

Mixed in the swarm, the herd walking across the bridge to the gate terminal was the ever expanding pack of G.I. Joes, led by Scarlett and Snake Eyes, with Mainframe, Chuckles, Crankcase and Grunt close behind. The team got some desperately needed rest on the long flight over from Tunis, but were still looking a bit beat-up.

Especially Scarlett. Snake Eyes spent time on the flight working on her leg, and got it looking and feeling about as good as it possibly could; but she was still limping, and desperately needed a doctor's eye.

"Hey, what do you know?" said Chuckles, "It's raining! Last time I was here it rained for three days straight. Never changes."

"Don't get too depressed, Chucky. Latest weather reports say this shower should be gone by midnight." said Mainframe.

"So what's tomorrow gonna be like? Any sunshine?"

"Can you two shut up?" groaned Crankcase.

"What's your problem?"

"I have a headache, okay, Chuckles? And I'm hungry, too."

Scarlett pointed over to the Food Courts. Look, why don't you guys just go get some nachos while Snake and I look for our contacts."

"Sounds good to me." replied to Crankcase as he bee-lined for the food.

Scarlett, Snake Eyes and Grunt walked off, and as Grunt waited for the luggage, the mission leaders exited the building.

The rain was strong, but not overbearing. The two Joes walked out towards the parking area, looking for a rather distinctive duo; it didn't take long to find them leaning against a rather sad-looking blue tour bus parked near the southern end of the airport.

"You know, Scarlett, a limp really isn't your style." said the black man, who took off his large sunglasses and wiped them with his white t-shirt. He tucked the shirt back behind his green jacket, slid his glasses back on and adjusted his brown cap.

"Ouch." commented the other man, while expressing a concerned look on his mustached face. He took off his green jacket to reveal a simple red football uniform bearing the number "14" and came over to Scarlett.

As he wrapped the Joe Counter Intelligence Officer in his coat, protecting her from the rain, she smiled and nodded. "Thanks, Bazooka." Snake Eyes gently tapped the old-fashioned leather football cap on Bazooka's head, and although the commando's rubber mask kept all of his facial movements a mystery, Bazooka knew that he was smiling.

"Okay, okay," grumbled the remaining stranger, "Pleasantries aside. Where's the rest of the team?"

"Relax, Alpine," said Scarlett as she entered the bus, "They wanted to grab a bite to eat."

"Didn't you get anything on the plane?"

"They don't feed you enough on flights anymore, remember? Look, let's just take five until the rest of the guys show up." Scarlett crawled up to a front seat and sat down, letting out a sight of relief. Snake Eyes walked to the rear window and kept watch. Alpine let out a puff of frustration and leaned against the tour bus' entrance, then whispered to Bazooka.

"These guys sound beat, Bazook'. If they don't get some energy, they'll never get through what we're up against out near Cusco."

"Yup."

4.

As the truck came crashing down from another bump in the road, Destro could feel the stabbing pain in his butt amplify to levels he never thought possible.

"I…I can't take it anymore! I am the Lord of Castle Destro! I do not ride in the back of hay trucks with chickens!"

The Baroness smiled. "You have spent plenty of time with Cobra Commander. I think you have the latter well covered." She picked up a chicken cage and handed it over to her lover. Destro was too agitated to laugh; but before he could start his next round of complaints, the rattling truck rattled even harder, then came to a stop.

"What's going on? Smith, McIntire, take a look." Destro pointed his Iron Grenadiers out the back, and the two soldiers lifted up the blue tarps and looked around the sides of the truck.

Smith reported back in. "We appear to be in a small city, sir. I'm not sure where."

McIntire brushed some of the rain water from his face. "Franco is coming back here, sir."

"Good." Destro squirmed up to his knees and clamped his hand onto his aching backside. "Perhaps we've reached our destination."

The Iron Grenadiers flipped up the tarp as Franco approached and crawled onto the truck's back end, just to get out of the rain.

"Buenas noches, Senor Destro." He was trembling. "We have reached the city of Ayacucho, but it is late and the weather is bad, so I would like to stay here for the night. I think that you would like a break from the ride as well, ci?"

Frustrated, but in too much pain to argue, Destro nodded in agreement. "Fine, take us to the best hotel in town."

"We are already there, Senor."

The Baroness snorted, then simply smiled.

Destro pushed himself off of the truck. "Excellent. Get me off of this garbage scowl." The weapons manufacturer stepped out onto the entranceway of the Plaza Hotel, a fancy white and green building constructed in Spanish colonial design near the town center of Ayacucho.

"Not bad," commented the Baroness, "But I've seen better."

"Forgive me if this is not to your approval." whimpered Franco.

"It will do. I just want to lie down and get some sleep." Baroness held onto Destro's arm and the pair walked into the hotel.

5.

A few minutes later, another truck, not much different in appearance than Franco's, pulled up to a restaurant down the street from the Plaza Hotel. The rattling old brown pickup splashed to a stop in a parking slot, its engine backfired, then died.

The slim man in the black and white checkered shirt opened the driver's side door and stepped out. He gazed up the street at the Plaza Hotel and watched as Franco's truck drove away from the entrance, then swung around to the parking lot and took rest in a parking area. The man wiped the rain from his head, then reached back into his truck and grabbed a large duffle-bag. After swinging it over his shoulder, he gracefully kicked the truck's door shut and began walking towards the Plaza Hotel—or more precisely, a green truck parked in its parking lot.

6.

As the patter of rain beat the roof of the old metallic tour bus, Alpine tried to emphasize the importance of the information that he carried. However, the fact that Scarlett was half-awake, Snake-Eyes seemed pre-occupied, Mainframe was working on his computer, Chuckles was still chomping on nachos and Crankcase couldn't care less about what the Joe Mountain Trooper had to say, it was a rather daunting task. At least Grunt was paying attention, so, he received all the focus.

"Bazooka and I have spent the last three days here, gathering info about Cobra's operations out near Cusco. And let me tell you, they're big."

"Yup." confirmed Bazooka.

"So what's the scoop?" asked Chuckles, with a mouth full of chips.

Annoyed, Alpine continued. "Apparently, Cobra has been trucking in building supplies for over a year now. No one knows for sure, but rumor is they've got an underground temple right next to Machu Picchu."

"Machu Picchu?" gasped Crankcase. "You mean the Incan Ruins?"

"There are more Incan Ruins than just Machu Picchu." snarled Mainframe. "Those things are filled with tourists every day! How could Cobra build a temple there and not have anyone notice?"

Alpine frowned. "Someone did notice, Sherlock. That's why we know about it."

"Well, it sure took a long time to notice."

"Stop this bickering!" barked Scarlett. "Whether Cobra has a temple there or not is irrelevant. It's our only lead and we're going to follow it." Sighing, she laid back in pain. Snake Eyes reached down and held her.

Grunt knew that things needed to get moving. "Alpine, have you secured us some transportation to Cusco?"

"Yes. Well, no. Um, sort of."

"So what's the answer?" growled Crankcase.

"Look, I had us all on a flight to Cusco, but this storm has cancelled all private flights to that area of the country. So…" Alpine spread his arms. "Ta-da!" The Joes looked around, then they all panicked as the answer hit them.

"You can't mean…" whispered Chuckles as a jalapeno slid off of his chin.

"You bet. We're all taking the tour!" Alpine forced a sickening grin on his face.

"This bus is older than my aunt Doris." complained Crankcase.

"Hey, no worries." reassured Alpine, "Bazooka checked it out, and it's workin' great, right Bazook'?"

"Needs new windshield wipers."

Alpine punched his pal in the shoulder.

As the group groaned, Scarlett looked up to Snake Eyes. "I…I don't know if I can make it any further without some help Snake Eyes. Take me to a hospital, okay?" The Joe Commando nodded, and picked up his crimson-haired lover. The rest of the team quieted their groaning as the pair walked down the center of the bus.

"I can't make it any farther. Grunt, you're in charge, now. Snake Eyes will catch up to you guys as soon as he can." As a tear trickled down her cheek, Scarlett tried to smile. "I…I'm sorry, guys. Yo Joe." Snake Eyes carefully carried her out the bus' door.

No one made a sound; it was something that they knew would happen, but never expected to see. Unfortunately, the team had just lost their two biggest guns, right when the mission's danger-level had jumped ten-fold.

7.

The next day Destro and his group left the Plaza Hotel, walking out towards Franco's old green farm truck, which rumbled in waiting by the hotel's front entrance. The sky was only freckled with small puffs of clouds. Although there would be no rain today, the ground was saturated with the moisture from yesterday's storm.

"Senor Destro, it is good to see you today. Everything is ready for our final journey to Cusco." said Franco.

Destro yawned behind his fake beard and scratched his soon-to-be-sore butt. "Excellent. Let's get going, then."

Before the four passengers crawled back onto the truck's bed, something caught the eye of the Baroness. She pulled Destro back by his shoulder and whispered something. He turned around and saw the checker-shirted man standing in the hotel's parking lot.

As all emotion erased from his face, Destro tugged on his beard and walked towards the lot. "I shall return in a few moments."

Walking up to a mint-green 1976 Chrysler Centura, the weapon's manufacturer quickly sensed the tension firing from the eyes of the man standing at its rear, pulling a large duffle-bag through the car's shattered rear window. "What is the problem, Storm Shadow?"

The ninja had been ordered to tail Destro's group on its trip to Cusco, and the Lord of Castle Destro knew that he would not risk mission security unless he had a very strong reason.

"You were assaulted last night."

Surprised, but not disbelieving, Destro ordered, "Explain."

"Two Night Creepers approached the farm truck just after midnight. They attempted to attach a bomb to the vehicle." Storm Shadow pulled a small, very high-tech explosive out of his duffle-bag and handed it to Destro, who examined it.

"Damn. This is an electro-shock detonator. You could call it a 'Taser-Bomb.' It releases a heavy electrical charge that stuns anyone in a ten-foot radius."

"You know it very well."

Destro smiled. "I designed it." His smile vanished. "That means someone with access to Cobra weapons seeks to harm me. That is unacceptable."

"Could it be the Commander?"

Destro shook his head. "No. He would never say it out loud, but he needs me too much. No, it is most likely that scoundrel Zartan. Or possibly…" Destro turned around and looked back at Franco, who was talking to the Baroness, but obviously keeping an eye on Destro's conversation with the checker-shirted man. "Come, Storm Shadow, I may need your assistance."

As Destro came walking back to the truck from the parking lot, Franco became very squirmish. He stepped away from the Baroness and placed a hand on the door handle of the truck.

"Is something wrong, Senor Franco?" asked the Baroness, who was now smiling.

"Huh? Oh, no, no senorita. I just need to…check on Punta!" With that, Franco pulled open the door and launched the barking Pit-Bull from the driver's seat. "Attaque!" cried the Peruvian.

The dog raced directly for Destro, who showed no interest in the scampering dog. Storm Shadow, pulling himself into the air over Destro's shoulders, swung of his hand, flinging two shuriken at the beast, which stung themselves into the dog's left eye and mouth. As the white ninja landed on the wet concrete, he drew his wakizashi, or short sword, and ended the life of the yelping animal.

8.

Groaning along the dirt roads through the Andes Mountains, the old blue tour bus carried its load of cranky G.I. Joes. The team wasn't in as bad of shape as Destro was on his trip through the Andes, but they were hating the trip just as much. The mountainsides were steep, and as the Joes drove up to higher and higher altitudes, trees became fewer and farther between.

"Ugh. Dammit, Bazooka! Can't you keep this thing away from the bumps?" griped Crankcase.

"Shut up, man." snapped Alpine, "This road has more holes in it than a piece of Swiss. If you've got problems with his driving, maybe you should get in the driver's seat."

"Maybe I should! After all, driving vehicles is my job!"

"At ease, soldiers!" ordered Grunt. "Scarlett wouldn't put up with all your petty bickering and neither will I."

"I've been wondering, Grunt," started Alpine, as he leaned back in his seat and adjusted his brown cap, "this isn't much of a strike force you got here. How do you expect to take out a Cobra Temple with this cluster of Joes?"

"What's that supposed to mean, ya jerk?" growled Crankcase.

Pointing around, Alpine clarified. "Well look at us. We're a group of six highly specialized G.I. Joe enlisted men. There's an undercover agent in here, a computer expert and a vehicle driver. We're not packing a lot of heat, not even Bazooka."

"Um, Sergeant Grunt, sir?" beckoned Bazooka.

"In a second, Bazook'. Look, heavily-armed or not, we're still G.I. Joes, and we're better than the Delta Force, if you ask me. We train hard, and make damn sure our skills are sharp, no matter what our specialties are."

"Hey, Sarge." urged Bazooka again.

"Yeah, but get serious! Do you honestly think we can take down a Cobra base with just the six of us?"

"Dammit, Alpine! We don't have time for this! If you don't think you can handle this mission, then get off the bus and start walking back to Lima, because we have a job to do!"

"Sergeant Grunt, sir?" cried Bazooka while banging the dashboard.

"What's the damn problem, Bazooka?" barked the Joe infantryman as he turned around to look at the sweating driver.

Simply raising his arm and pointing, the driver said, "That."

Annoyed by Bazooka's simplicity, the current mission commander looked out the dirty front windshield…and felt all the color erase from his face. "Get us off the road! Now!" He dropped to his knees and grabbed the top of his head. "Everybody get down!"

Following the human nature of curiosity instead of obeying a direct order, every Joe on the bus save Bazooka looked out of the window as an RPG swirled through the windy air, then burst against the front left corner of the vehicle, causing a massive eruption that shattered the decades-old public transport and sent the passengers on board crashing to the floor.

Amidst the chaos, Grunt, who had been prepared for the blast, stood up and barked, "Everybody grab your gun and get off the bus!" As soon as he finished talking, bullets began chewing apart the bus, shattering glass and poking holes throughout the metallic body. The Joes began crawling to the door but Grunt turned around to see Bazooka lying next to the driver's seat knocked out in a pool of blood. Grunt picked up his teammate and dragged him out onto the steep hillside. Alpine grabbed Bazooka's feet and helped carry the injured Joe behind a rock twenty feet away from the bus.

"What the hell is going on?" asked the mountain trooper.

"Firefly is attacking us." replied Grunt as he loaded his M-16.

"Firefly?" Chuckles patted out his shirt's sleeve, which had caught fire. "What does he want?"

The bus then exploded, deafening every Joe hiding down the hillside. "My guess is he wants us dead." said Crankcase.

"I'm not in the mood for this crap." snarled Grunt. It was rare for the other Joes to see him so enraged. Pointing right, he ordered, "Alpine! Take Chuckles and work your way around back of Firefly." Looking left, he continued. "Crankcase, you and I are going to move up the hill and try to shoot at Firefly from a distance. Mainframe: stay here and watch over Bazooka. Shoot at anything that you don't like, got it?"

"Got it."

"Yo Joe!" cried Grunt.

"Yo Joe!" cried the rest of the team.

9.

Storm Shadow unsheathed his sword and the Iron Grenadiers slammed Franco against the closed door of his truck, which had now been moved to an alley five blocks away from the Plaza Hotel. Destro adjusted his metallic facemask—it felt good to have it back on again, oddly enough—and walked up to Franco.

"Senor Remeidez, I am going to ask you a few questions, and if you value your life, you will answer them."

The trembling Peruvian nodded.

"Who are you working for?"

"Muhammad-Rabah?" interjected the Baroness.

"No. No." Franco looked around, then leaned forward. "The Crimson Twins."

The Baroness started laughing, an act that deeply annoyed Destro.

"I was not meant to kill you! No! Only keep you away from Cusco as long as possible."

Destro grabbed him by the throat. "What are those scheming mutants up to? Why did they hire you?"

Choking, Franco weakly answered, "I…I do not know…Senor. They say…they need to...keep you away until…Temple is ready."

"Damn! That means they are working on the Matrix Cannon without me! How dare they take charge of my project!"

Baroness pushed Destro away from the struggling farmer. "You're being paranoid, Destro. But you may have a point. The twins are up to something, and we need to get to Cobra's new Incan Temple Outpost by this afternoon.. She traced her finger along Franco's chin, sending chills down his spine. "Do you think you could do that, darling?"

The humble farmer nodded passionately, "Ci, ci, I know where to go!" He turned around, opened the door to his truck and jumped inside. "Come with me!"

Destro stared at the Baroness. "Are you mad? Do you honestly want to ride in his decrepit vehicle again? And why would you want to trust him?"

The Baroness petted her lover's cheek with her hand. "Do you know of any other way to get to the temple without raising suspicion? Relax, now we can get the matrix Cannon back with being stopped again."

The Lord of Castle Destro smiled at the amazing woman before him. She truly was brilliant.

A beeping sound started coming from Destro's pocket. Reaching down, Destro pulled out his pager and clicked the button, then read the message. The Baroness leaned over to him.

"Firefly?"

"Yes. He's engaged the Joes." Dropping his pager back in his pocket, Destro wrapped his arms around his lover. "And you said we could never trust him again."

Baroness frowned. "That depends on whether he beats them or not."

10.

Scrambling along the steep, rocky surface of the mountainside, Alpine felt completely at home. In no time at all, he had made fifty yards distance from the boulders and reached a good position to begin a quick ascent up. Looking behind him, he saw Chuckles, still fifteen yards behind him and gasping for air.

"C'mon, slowpoke. If you're having trouble breathing at this elevation, you won't last ten minutes at Machu Picchu."

Trying his hardest to suppress a cough, Chuckles hunched over as he reached Alpine's position. "S-sorry, man. Guess I'm too used…to working at sea-level."

"Well, take a few steady breaths and get ready for the air to get thinner, 'cause we're goin' up!" Alpine leaned back and fired his grappling gun, which launched a hook up into a cluster of rocks up along the roadway. Alpine pulled back on the cable until the hook snagged. The Joe Mountain Trooper smiled and said, "Let's go, before Firefly takes notice of my perfect work."

Less than a second later, two long black ropes came spouting out over the cliff's edge, slapping the mountainside on either side of the two Joes.

"What the hell is going on?" panicked Chuckles.

"Don't ask." replied Alpine, frantically searching for his pistol.

At the edge, two Rock-Vipers, Cobra's version of a Mountain Trooper, jumped out, gliding down the ropes with all of their high-tech gear. The light and dark-brown uniformed soldiers were big, carried heavy weapons and wore light armor, making them durable fighters, on or off of the mountainside.

Alpine drew his pistol, but couldn't respond in time; after the Vipers slid down, they sandwiched him with their strength. Chuckles, still gasping for breath, looked meagerly at the two monsters, and succumbed to their brute force with little resistance.

11.

Grunt and Crankcase crested the cleft of the cliffside and walked along the curving dirt road. As they rounded the corner near the bus, they dropped down and crawled into position behind some bushes about ninety yards from the burning wreckage of the old blue vehicle.

"So where did Firefly go?" asked Crankcase. Grunt just frowned and moved in a crouching position around the bushes. After getting ten yards closer to the bus, Grunt raised his arm to wave Crankcase on…when rapid assault-rifle fire began spraying his position and forced the Joe infantryman to the ground. Thankfully, the bullets sailed over him.

"Grunt, you okay?" called Crankcase.

"Yeah. Took one in the arm, but it's just a scrape. He was shooting over me, which means he doesn't have the high-ground."

"He could be tricking us."

"Dude, he's a Cobra." Grunt looked back to the wreckage. "Fifty bucks he's at the bus."

"No bet."

"I can't move, but I don't think he's seen you yet. Move up the hill in an arcing motion, then come back down towards the bus." The Joes jumped as sounds of gunfire started echoing off of the mountainside. "Damn! He's attacking Mainframe! Go!"

Crankcase leapt up and charged over the hillside. Grunt swung his M-16 in front of him, and despite the danger, sat up and started shooting at the bus. The fire re-emanating from the front of the bus quickly stopped and a silhouette moved from behind the wreckage's flames.

"There you are, you son-of-a-!" Grunt sat up and clicked his assault rifle into rapid-fire. The few remaining shots he had left rocketed out at the dark assailant. As soon as his clip emptied, he pulled it off and slapped another back on, then he poured out the load from that clip. Catching his breath, the infantryman pulled off the newly-emptied clip and slapped on a third one. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Crankcase cautiously sliding down the mountainside, but apparently unable to see any targets.

"Geeze, man! You get him?" asked the Joe vehicle driver.

"I…I don't know. You see anyone over there?"

Crankcase was surprised to hear such a question. "No. I was comin' down when I heard you open up."

Grunt cursed to himself then slowly walked over to the wreckage of the bus. There wasn't much fire left, and the roof had totally collapsed in on itself. Crankcase walked around the left side of the bus, and Grunt took the right. They crept around the corners…and saw each other. Whoever had been there was gone.

Cursing aloud, Grunt dropped to one knee and lost himself in thought for a few moments. How could this get any worse?

"Oh no!" cried Crankcase. Grunt looked up to see his teammate peering over the cliff's edge. Grunt looked over as well, and quickly saw the two boulders that the Joes had initially used for cover after the wreck—no one was there.

"Where the hell are Mainframe and Bazooka?" barked Grunt.

"How am I supposed to know?" replied Crankcase.

"I can assure you that they are perfectly safe and sound." came a gravelly, yet sinister voice from behind Grunt. The two Joes turned around to see:

"Firefly!" growled the temporary mission leader. The gray-camouflaged saboteur stood five yards from the Joes, holding a sub-machine-gun pointed at the men, with two Rock-Vipers standing at his flanks.

"Drop your weapons, or I'll shoot them out of your hands." Grunt and Crankcase complied. "Now, get around to the other side of the bus."

As the Joes walked around, they watched two other Rock-Vipers drag Alpine and Chuckles' unconscious bodies next to Mainframe and Bazooka's unconscious bodies. Feelings of humility were eating Grunt alive. How could he have screwed this mission up so badly?

"Enjoying my collection, Grunt? These aren't exactly 'rare,' but I'm still an avid collector."

"Cut the crap, Firefly. What do you want?"

Cobra's saboteur smiled. "I don't want anything from you, Army freak. This is all business. Don't hold it against me."

With that, Grunt felt a blunt pain to the back of his head, and didn't re-awaken for several hours.