Chapter 11
Redirections
Controlling his heavy breathing was getting more and more difficult as Cobra Commander sat in the shadows behind the lockers on the far side of the top-floor chamber. The facemask was becoming unbearable.
Almost as atrocious was the scene before him: a squad of G.I. Joes were searching through the massive top-floor chamber and there wasn't a thing he could do to stop them. His gun lied on the floor over ten yards away from the pillar that the Matrix Cannon sat upon.
That damn Matrix Cannon. Thankfully it didn't explode like it said it would. Somehow the power to the chamber cut out right before the point of eruption, saving the life of the hysterical Commander.
But that was the past. Time to move on. Now there were three Joes sniffing around the Incan Temple Outpost and he intended to get rid of them. Well, at least distract them long enough for him to make an escape. There, on the floor: Destro's crowbar. That could make a good weapon. Of course it was six feet away. How could he--?
"Hey? What's that shining thing over there?"
One of the Joes pointed over to the lockers.
The sunlight that now poured through the breaking clouds reflected off of the terrorist's faceplate, revealing his position peaking around the burnt storage units. The other Joes turned around and quickly recognized the shining metal mask, but were too stunned with confusion—after all, what were the odds of finding your greatest enemy hiding behind a busted-up locker—to take an immediate action.
Enraged by his blunder, Cobra Commander stormed out from his hiding spot towards the crowbar and snatched it from the puddle-strewn floor. He then bee-lined for Repeater, who was just realizing what was going on. The Commander smashed the crowbar against the barrel of the Joe's machine-gun, knocking its handle out of his enemy's hands; but since the gun was mounted on the Joe's belt, it did not drop to the floor. Now unable to shoot back, Repeater couldn't stop Cobra Commander from swinging the bar into his arm, shattering bones and forcing him to shriek in pain.
Spinning around as Repeater fell to his knees, the enraged Cobra raised the crowbar and laughed in a metallic echo, casting aside his standard hissing chuckle. Short-Fuse and Breaker were in an even greater level of shock; they did not know who they were fighting anymore. Could Cobra Commander could act this insane?
Short-Fuse was the first to react, and drew his pistol. He aimed at the raging Cobra and fired, but the snake ran for cover behind the Matrix Cannon's elevator. Breaker grabbed his M-16 off the computer station and aimed it at the pillar.
"Come out, Cobra Commander," ordered Breaker, "You can't defeat both of us."
Suddenly, the crowbar went flying across the room and smashed into the lockers. Short-Fuse and Breaker turned towards the lockers; out of reflex, Breaker fired a short burst.
"Breaker, look out!" cried Short-Fuze, but it was too late. Cobra Commander had run out from behind the pillar and charged the G.I. Joe Communications Trooper and tackled him. The two men rolled on the floor until Cobra Commander managed to slam Breaker's fist to the floor and knock the M-16 away. He then wrenched the Joe's arm behind his back and sat him on the floor as a shield against Short-Fuze's pistol.
"Let him go, Commander! I'm not afraid to shoot!" warned the enraged Mortar Soldier.
"So you really want to kill your friend?" mocked Cobra Commander. Breaker griped in pain as the Head Snake slowly stood up, pulling the Joe up by his twisted arm. "I really doubt that." The Commander looked towards the door out of the top-floor chamber. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I will be leaving. But just to be safe, I'll be taking Breaker with me. After all, I wouldn't want you getting all heroic on me now, would I?"
Short-Fuze grit his teeth as Cobra Commander made for the exit, pulling Breaker out with him. No Joe had ever seen the Head Snake fight like this before. The Commander didn't have a gun, but there were other ways to kill a man, and this psychotic upgrade of the Cobra leader probably knew a few.
Upon reaching the hallway, Cobra Commander began a brisk walk towards the stairway. Breaker didn't fight for his freedom, but he didn't make it easy for the Commander to pull him down the hall, either.
"You fought pretty intensely in there, Commander." said Breaker, dragging his feet and kicking over everything he passed in the hall. "I didn't know you had it in you."
"There is a lot about me you don't know, Joe." he replied, laughing in an echo again.
"Like what?"
Cobra Commander paused for a second, then shook his head. "Nice try. All you need to know is that you have lost, and Cobra will be your supreme ruler some day. You should show me more respect." The Commander snickered.
"A lot of people have made that claim throughout history. They usually end up beheaded or committing suicide."
Grabbing him by the shoulders, Cobra Commander slammed Breaker into the wall. "That's because they lacked the global vision! Cobra has a worldwide network that provides the strength and intelligence to make such a claim!"
Drawing upon energies or a foolishness that dared him to press on, Breaker leaned his head forward and yelled back, "Intelligence? I call it stupidity! You can't even control this stupid organization you run! Where's your loyal servants now, Commander? You don't look very powerful to me!"
With that, Cobra Commander belted the Joe Communications Trooper in the stomach. As he hunched over, the Commander decked him in the face with a left hook. Once Breaker collapsed to the floor in pain, the leader of Cobra began kicking and beating the blood-covered Joe as hard as he could.
"You…you will show…you will show your supreme ruler respect!"
Short-Fuze ran out of the top-floor chamber and skidded into the hallway. "What the hell is going on?"
Safely thirty-yards away, Cobra Commander stepped away from Breaker's fetal-position body, laughed in a metallic echo and limped down the stairway. Short-Fuze ran to his teammate and stretched him out on the floor.
"Oh, god, man. How much did he break?" the Mortar Trooper asked; but Breaker didn't respond. He was still breathing, but unconscious.
"Don't worry, Breaker ol' buddy, I won't leave ya." Looking down the stairs, Short-Fuze aimed his pistol down the steps. "If I ever see Cobra Commander again," the angry Joe swore to himself, "I'll kill him."
1.
The scene outside of the Cobra Incan Temple Outpost had changed dramatically since Duke had gone inside. The rain had departed and large amounts of sunshine was breaking through the clouds. An even greater amount of wreckage was strewn across the steep, grassy mountain slopes. Two long columns of Vipers of various designation and uniform colors were marching down the road, escorted by a handful of Joes.
This battle was over. Unfortunately, the day's work was far from done.
Grouped over by a landed Dragonfly sat Grunt, Crankcase and Alpine. They were all watching intensely as Lifeline fought to save the lives of Bazooka and Mainframe. The two Joes were laying on stretchers; Bazooka's was already attached to the left landing skid of the Dragonfly.
"How are they?" Duke asked when he approached the landed assault helicopter.
Lifeline shook his head. "I don't know what Cobra did to them, but they are out cold. I'll need to get them back to the PIT and run a few tests on them before I can say what happened for sure; but I'd guess biological experimentation."
Duke's jaw about hit the ground. "You're joking!"
"I wish I were, but I can't seem to help them here."
"It's a possibility, Duke." said Grunt. "We found them in the back room of a medical center in the outpost."
The First Sergeant whipped his glare around back at the outpost. "Damn I want to get in there!"
"We leavin' or somethin', Duke?" asked Alpine.
"Not you guys, I'm afraid. Lifeline, I need you to get these wounded prepped for flight and flown back to Lima. The five of you need to get back to the PIT, A.S.A.P. General Hawk wants to see you."
"We do something wrong?" asked Crankcase.
"I can't say, but I wouldn't go back expecting a tickertape parade."
The three still-standing wounded Joes hung their heads low in thought, and Duke slapped Grunt on the shoulder, then turned around and began walking across the battlefield.
"Duke!" The Joe First Sergeant looked to his right and saw Beachhead jogging towards him.
"Beachhead, nice work. Looks like everything is taken care of here."
"Thank you. Yeah, the reinforcements helped us make short work of these Cobra scum. We were done almost as soon as you entered the temple."
"Good. I need to call a meeting of all available team members. Anybody who isn't escorting a prisoner or has to fly back for a refueling needs to meet by the Tomahawk wreckage in five minutes."
"Important stuff?"
Duke gave him a "What do you think?" look.
"Yeah. Got it. Hey, you guys! Don't just stand there! Help me out!" Beachhead walked off to round up a couple Joes to help him find everyone in the area. Duke began a slow walk over to the molten ruin of the helicopter and A.P.C.
The globs of molten steel had cooled off now, looking like rock-hard mucus draining off the sides of the personnel carrier. There wasn't any recognizable wreckage of the Tomahawk. It had been completely transformed into metallic sludge by the Matrix Cannon, and burnt up half of the A.P.C. with its liquid crash.
The Joes walked up to Duke, all looking a bit fatigued, and very wet. A few were moderately burned. He looked them over with a smile on his face.
"Excellent work today, guys," complimented Duke, who quickly erased his smile, "but our job is only just beginning. The stray shot from the Matrix Cannon that fired northeast of here has set a considerable amount of Brazilian Rain Forest on fire."
Looks of shock, disbelief and anger spread across the group of war-weary soldiers.
"So I take it we're now on our way out to fight a massive fire?" asked Sci-Fi.
Duke nodded. "Apparently Cobra's scheme was to hold the countries of the world hostage by threatening to burn up the rain forests with the Matrix Cannon. But thanks to the hard work of Scarlett and Snake Eyes' team, we caught them before the blackmail could take place."
"But it looks like the big Snake got his shot off anyways." growled Clutch.
"Yeah." replied Duke with a grain of salt, "He did." The First Sergeant began pointing to the Joe vehicles. "Everybody find something to ride on and let's get moving! It's going to be a long trip, but we need to get there as soon as we can."
The Joes slowly walked over to their vehicles, grumbling new hatreds for Cobra and rubbing sore wounds. Duke looked down to his battle damaged and mud-stricken Armadillo and sighed. It was in sad shape, but still operable—if he applied a lot of loving to it.
A voice called over to him, "Hey Duke!" The First Sergeant turned to see Airborne standing next to a Sky Hawk parked about twenty feet away. "You can have control of my Sky Hawk if you want! I'll just ride the skis!"
Smiling at Airborne, who was pulling his gear from the Sky Hawk's hatch, Duke ran over to him. As he did, his he got a very bad feeling in his stomach. "Thanks Airborne, I'll take it. But I have another job for you. There are a couple Joes still in that Outpost, and I need you to see what's holding them up. I've provided a slick ride for you to take them to the fire on." Duke grinned as he pointed to the Armadillo mini-tank.
Frowning, Airborne replied, "You sure I can't just take one of the H.I.S.S. tanks instead?"
"I'll pretend I didn't hear you say that." Duke saluted his fellow Joe as he climbed into the Sky Hawk and closed the hatch. Turning back around, the First Sergeant frowned at the Incan Temple Outpost. "What could be taking Breaker, Short-Fuze and Repeater so long?" he thought to himself.
Blowing rock and debris in every direction, the hyper-active, screeching jets of the Sky Hawk lifted Duke into the air and slowly rotated, directing the jet craft's thrust behind itself, rocketing the First Sergeant off towards a new challenge in the Rain Forests of Brazil.
Grabbing his XM-16 rifle with both hands, Airborne walked across the battlefield to the small entrance at the side of the main doors. As he reached for the handle, the door swung open and a man in a bloody black uniform stepped out.
"Snake Eyes!" The Helicopter Assault Trooper grabbed his teammate as the Commando fell forward and collapsed into his arms. "My god, man, what has happened to you?" Blood was still pouring from the slash wounds gaping across Snake Eyes' body. No longer wearing his facemask, the agony in his eyes was completely readable to Airborne, who gently set his teammate to the ground.
Pulling out a radio from his parachute-pack, Airborne made a panic-stricken call. "Mayday! Mayday! Medical Evac immediately at the Cobra Temple. Critically wounded Joe on the ground!" Uninterested in identifying himself or listening for a reply, Airborne tossed the radio away from himself. "Don't worry, Snake, help is on the way."
2.
The beat-up old truck rattled as it drove away from Cusco, ever carrying the question "How does that thing stay together?" Still, it handled the mountain roads of Peru quite well, just as it did when it was driving to Cusco less than two days before. This time, however, it only carried two passengers.
Destro sat quietly behind the steering wheel, growing more and more frustrated as he struggled along the bumpy road. His growing headache was magnified by the negative energy hitting him from the passenger's side. Still abhorring the dog-odor in the truck, the Baroness rode shotgun, but in complete silence. It was a game of word-free defiance that created an invisible rope of tension, crackling as the strain against it grew to unbearable levels. Eventually, the two ego-driven gluttons of power would have to break the rope.
They did.
"You didn't have to do that to Franco." snarled the Baroness.
"And what would you have me do? Pay him for his truck?" barked back Destro.
"No, of course not, but…that was brutal." Baroness crossed her arms.
"He knew too much. And his barn needed to be destroyed anyways. Those damn Crimson Twins had stocked it like an ammo dump." Destro punched the roof of the truck.
"You're a brutal man at times, Destro!"
As the CEO of M.A.R.S. turned to argue with his lover, a light, rocketing sound swept above the truck, shocking the passengers. Destro slammed the breaks as a C.L.A.W. lowered itself to the ground about fifteen feet in front of the sad old vehicle. Piloting the jet-pack: Cobra Commander.
It was actually a fairly formidable sight: Cobra Commander, holding an AK-47, with a C.L.A.W. strapped to his back, blowing dust in a wide swirl behind him.
Destro popped open the door of the truck and stepped out. "Commander! What are you doing here? What do you want?"
Remaining dead silent, Cobra Commander cocked the assault rifle, then aimed it at the truck.
"No! Commander, please, we can talk!" cried Destro as he jumped away from the truck.
But it was too late. The Head Snake opened fire, pummeling the front end of the shaky old vehicle, obliterating its radiator and front wheels. The Baroness opened the passenger door and jumped out as the Commander kept shooting until his ammo clip was empty.
Destro laid on the ground with hands covering his head, waiting for the shooting to stop. Once it did, he rolled over and aimed his gauntlet rockets towards the attacker…but it was too late. Cobra Commander tossed down the rifle and blasted off back into the sky with the C.L.A.W.
Baroness walked over to Destro, who sat quietly on the ground with his arms on his knees. "Well, that was interesting." She offered down her hand.
Grabbing the elegant hand, the weapons manufacturer pulled himself up. "Yes…but that wasn't
Cobra Commander."
"What?" asked his lover as she dusted his behind off.
"I've known the Commander for decades, and he's never had so much gumption." Taking a few steps forward, Destro stroked his metallic chin in deep thought. "That felt more like…"
"Who" demanded the Baroness. "You must tell me!"
Destro turned around and stared through her. "I have been tricked me before, and I would be an arrogant fool to think that it will never happen again. It must have been Zartan pretending to be Cobra Commander back at the Temple, but it wasn't Zartan who just attacked us. No, this whole Matrix Cannon excursion is becoming a twisted mess, and I am a buffoon for not recognizing the destructive equation before it had ruined all that I had struggled to achieve."
Frowning, the Baroness scuffled dirt with her boots. She still wanted to know who attacked them, but there was a new question to be asked. "'Destructive equation?'"
Destro reached into the front seat of the pick-up truck and pulled out a pair of AK-47 assault rifles. "Yes, my dear, Tomax and Xamot. They have endeavored to block our paths and provide us with delays throughout our journey to the Cobra Incan Temple Outpost. Then, once the Matrix Cannon was complete, they mysteriously disappeared from the site, leaving everyone to the fate of the Joe team."
"So you think the twins left Zartan behind to fool us?" asked Baroness with her hands on her hips.
Handing his love a rifle, the weapons manufacturer replied, "Of course not. That mercenary scumball would never work for the Crimson Twins."
"Then who attacked us?"
Destro smiled. "In due time, my dear, in due time." The Baroness blew a puff of frustrated breath into the air. "I can say that I know of the one factor that connects all four, well, all five of these men."
"Cobra Commander?"
"Yes, Cobra Commander."
"And you're sure that the Commander was never at the outpost?" Baroness slung the AK-47 over her shoulder.
"He may have been, but if so, he left with the twins, leaving Zartan to act in his place, making me believe that I had control of the Matrix Cannon." Destro quickly stopped talking as a shocking thought gripped him.
"What is wrong, my dear?" asked the Baroness.
"He's built a double. That slithering snake built a double!" Destro punched the side of the truck hard enough to make a small hole. "The twins were here to copy my work…no…check my work. To see if it was operable! Once it was confirmed they left!"
Baroness walked over and grabbed onto the truck. "That means he must have had a spy in our plant in Libya. Every bit of work you did was being sent to the Commander…on Cobra Island!"
"Yes…damn that greedy…we must hurry, my dear. I have underestimated the Commander and his minions. He is truly a genius at crime. But soon we will see how well his skills hold up when he is fighting for his life!"
The Baroness fretted, "Bold words. How do you intend to impose this test of the Commander's skill?" She pointed to the truck. "Our disguised method of transportation is destroyed!"
"Subterfuge is no longer necessary." Destro tapped the side of his facemask. "IG-25, distance from my GPS?" Destro's head nodded as he silently received satellite communication through his helmet. Baroness anxiously waited for her lover to share the information with her. After roughly thirty seconds, Destro's hand came down from the side of his head, and he smiled. "A Dominator will come to pick us up. It is less than ten kilometers from here."
"Have Iron Grenadiers been covering you from a distance all throughout this debacle?"
"Of course. A light strike force always protects my 'backside', if you will."
"And where were they when the Commander or Zartan or whoever it was shot up our truck?" barked the infuriated Intelligence Operative.
Destro clutched her wrists, looked into her eyes and smiled. "My dear, we were never in any real danger from that buffoon. You are quite capable of defending yourself, and if need be, I can provide further protection."
Flattered, if not still a bit agitated, the Baroness decided to be silent as the sound of the Dominator's loud, beating propeller echoed throughout the mountainsides. The curiously overweight-looking vehicle swung around a mountaintop and headed straight for the lone souls standing on the dusty roadway. In only a few minutes, the transformable helicopter/tank lowered its treads and landed; the new passengers climbed aboard a special three-seater, designed by Destro himself for moments such as this.
The three-bladed propeller thundered again as the bulky craft lifted upwards, and amidst a funnel of dust and a few flickering lights, Destro and the Baroness flew off to Lima; roughly four times faster than they had been going in Franco's battered old truck.
3.
General Clayton "Hawk" Abernathy sat at his desk, tapping a pencil and grimacing at the group of file papers sitting in front of him. Where had he gone wrong? Was Cobra getting too powerful, or were his crack, top-of-the-line, number-one-in-the-world troops just getting too damn sloppy?
Flicking his pencil behind him, Hawk leaned forward and stared at the lone, injured Joe sitting in front of his desk. "Here we are again, Scarlett, but this time, it's worse. Chuckles, Mainframe, Grunt, Crankcase, Alpine, Bazooka. You kept requesting more assistance. I knew you wouldn't irresponsibly make such requests, so I gave it to you. But each and every one of you were entrusted with important tasks to fulfill on this mission."
"Yeah, but Hawk, listen--."
"Not now!" The General leaned back, just a little angrier. "I realize that this was a difficult mission. Hell, I have word that Snake Eyes is in intensive care, barely hanging on to his life! But I have to say something! A hundred-thousand acres of Brazilian rain forest is burning today because Cobra completed the Matrix Cannon and fired it. Do you realize how much damage that is?" Scarlett's eyes began to water. "Not to sound insensitive, but I have to think of the team as well. I've had a hell of a time keeping it together. A lot of big brass in the Pentagon don't think we're needed anymore. After this last mess-up, I don't think I can convince them otherwise."
The door to Hawk's office burst open and Dial-Tone came crashing in.
"I said no interruptions of any kind!" barked Hawk.
"I'm sorry sir, but you have to see this one!" Dial-Tone pointed a fat remote control at the back wall of the room and clicked a button. The fine, finished oak panels raised up, revealing a video screen. Dial-Tone clicked another couple of buttons, and Cobra Commander's image appeared on the monitor. It was a very melodramatic picture of the Commander sitting upon his throne, surrounded by flaming torches and heavily armed Vipers. Curiously, Tomax and Xamot stood at the base of the throne. Since Dial-Tone had to run to Hawk's office, the Commander was heard speaking mid-sentence.
"…of mass destruction. It is called…the Matrix Cannon! The same device used to burn the rain forest is now capable of destroying any city or site on the planet Earth!" Pausing to let the shock sink in, Cobra Commander leaned forward. "The forest was just a small test of the weapon's power. If I am not deemed ruler of every country on Earth within twelve hours, I will destroy a city. And to help quicken the pace, I won't say which one. Twelve hours! Cobraaaa!" The Vipers saluted the passionate call from their leader, then the transmission ceased.
"Good god." gasped Scarlett. "But we…we destroyed the cannon, right?"
Hawk slowly turned around from the back wall. "Apparently not. It must have just been a prototype."
"What do we do?" asked Scarlett.
"We're going to have to send a strike force to destroy the cannon. Everybody we've got. Dial-Tone, rally the troops. We're going to Cobra Island!" Hawk stood up and raised his arm, but the Joe Communications Trooper stood tapping the side of the remote control. "What's wrong, Dial-Tone?"
"Um, well, you see. With the War on Terror going on, a lot of our men were transferred to the Middle East. And, well, you sent all of our remaining troops to South America to help fight the fires."
Hawk sat back down. "So you're saying?"
"We're just about all that's left. Except for Doc and Law." Dial-Tone gave a dopey, crooked smile, but it did no good.
Scarlett dared to speak. "Hawk, my wounded team is flying to the PIT as we speak."
Hawk turned to his right as his mind was engulfed in panic-stricken thought. Were a bunch of wounded, ready-to-be-court-martialed troops his only hope? He then gave a one-eyed stare at Scarlett.
"It looks like you all get a chance to redeem yourselves. Gear up with everything you've got plus a few hundred pounds more. This is gonna be hell."
"Yo Joe!" she cheered.
Before she could leave, Hawk stopped his Intelligence Operative. "Scarlett, hold up." She sat back down. "Everyone is pretty beat up, especially Mainframe and Bazooka. Do you think those guys can handle it?"
Scarlett looked at the pictures of Hawk standing with groups of Joes, weapons raised in a cheer and smiling like children at Christmas. "We were pretty torn up on this mission, Hawk, but we weren't taken out. We kept pushing. About the only person you could say that gave up was me. My wound is still so bad there isn't a chance that I can run during this impending strike. But you know what? We're Joes. G.I. Joes. We're the best because we can take it harder than anyone else in the world. We might not be running at one-hundred-percent, but you'll still have the best damn strike-force ever assembled."
Hawk leaned back in his chair. "Go gear up."
4.
The flames in the torches gently flickered away, the high-definition cameras were rolled out and the two-dozen lavishly-clad Vipers marched out of the throne room. Soon the massive chamber was in near-darkness again, with two Crimson Guardsmen standing at the door and Cobra Commander sitting high atop his perch, deep in his own kinds of twisted thought.
Today however, there were two extra guests in the room, who walked in complete sync with one another as they approached the throne wearing their blue uniforms, complimented with silver boots and a red sash.
"That was quite the performance." said Tomax.
"Yes, I was rather gripping, wasn't I? I should do more broadcasts like that. They are loads of fun."
"You can't take over every television channel, Commander. This isn't a cartoon!" pointed out Xamot.
"We can only broadcast your threats over the Cobra Island transmitters--."
"Yes I know!" the Commander cut off Tomax. "The only ones who see us are the governments of the world who keep us 'tuned in' for security reasons, and of course some small towns on the southern coast of the United States. But you can rest assured, my threat was seen by every civilized country of the world."
"Even if your message didn't reach every ear…" began Tomax.
"…the entire world must know about Brazil by now." completed Xamot.
"Exactly!" Cobra Commander stood up and pointed to Tomax. "I want you to keep an eye on the G.I. Joe team. They are going to respond to my threat before sunrise." Turning to face the scarred twin, he pointed again. "I am giving you a much more difficult task! I want you to find Destro and keep track of him. He will be as ready to assault Cobra Island as the Joe team is!"
Bowing, the twins said obligatory words of praise and left the throne room. Cobra Commander sat back down and turned on his great chair's video monitor.
"Now," he mumbled to himself, "where is that moron Zartan?"
5.
Stuffing the last piece of his Cobra Commander disguise into a brown paper bag, Zartan sighed. Looking up at the cracked mirror on the gas station's wall, he splashed water on his face, then pulled on his cowl. "Thank god that's over with." He said to himself. "I really need a new job."
Stepping from the stinky bathroom into the dark, new-moon night, the Dreadnok leader froze in his steps. Three Night-Vipers stood in front of him with their weapons drawn. One of them, wearing an officer's insignia, clicked on a radio attached to his headset.
"Confirmed, my Lord. Subject has left the bathroom and is now in custody." Two more green-and-black-suited Night-Vipers, ones that Zartan hadn't even seen, grabbed him by the arms and quickly ensnared him in handcuffs.
"Do you realize what you are doing? Do you know who I am?" warned the Dreadnok leader. Without breaking pace, the Night-Viper officer shined a bright light in Zartan's face.
"We're sorry to do this, sir, but we're under orders. All hail Cobra Commander." With that, another Night-Viper walked over to Zartan carrying a small monitor. A cable ran from the monitor to a small satellite dish on the Viper's shoulder. Cobra Commander's image was on the monitor.
"Zartan!" cheered the Commander, "So good to see you made it! Things were definitely getting a bit too hot down there."
Growling, Zartan gave little respect in his tone. "You gave me no indication that the Joe team was about to attack the outpost! I thought I was just there to throw off Destro!"
"Well. You can't blame me for all the weak links in our communications system. Please understand I fully acknowledge how bravely and skillfully you acted down there. There could even be a bonus in it for you! If you'll do me one more little favor."
"So is that why you have me in shackles?" barked Zartan, "So I'll listen to your precious 'bonus' idea? Forget it, Commander. I'm through working down here."
"Ah, but you won't have to work down there anymore. I know what you did to Destro's truck, and I appreciate it immensely. In fact, I need you to do it again." Cobra Commander leaned forward. "But this time, I need you to hit the passengers."
Zartan turned his head a tad to the right and looked puzzled. "Commander, I've been hiding in Cusco for a day. I didn't do anything to Destro's truck."
6.
Crashing against harsh, wind-blasted waves, the U.S. Navy frigate G.I. Jane raced on a direct course across the Gulf of Mexico from Miami to Cobra Island. The small, yet heavily modified warship was a staple of the G.I. Joe Naval power. The light carrier U.S.S. Flagg couldn't be everywhere at once. Right now, it was in the Indian Ocean coordinating efforts with Air Force patrols throughout Afghanistan. But the Jane was always kept within striking distance of Cobra Island, for an emergency just like today's.
Less than a mile away, a Coast Guard HH-65 Dolphin rescue helicopter knifed through the winds as it flew directly to the G.I. Joe frigate. Looking like a strange orange dot against the white, cloudy sky, the chopper slowed down and attempted to hover above the ship's landing deck, located at the stern.
Watching intensely from the bridge through a pair of binoculars, Hawk frowned and looked over to Dial-Tone, who was sitting at the com-station. "There's no way they can land?" he asked.
"No, sir. It's way too wet and windy." replied the Joe communications trooper.
Hawk lowered the binoculars. "Get a group of enlisted men around to the deck. We're going to have to drop the Joes out."
"Yes, sir."
A group of Navy enlisted men, borrowed from the Naval Air Station in Key West, Florida, soon stumbled out onto the splash-strewn deck. They were just a fraction of the large team gathered to operate the G.I. Jane while the Joe team was in action on Cobra Island. Hawk disliked using enlisted Navy or Army men to help the Joe team out, but at the moment, the ends justified the means.
The side door of the HH-65 slid back and a rope dropped out. A Coast Guardsman slid down the rope and landed on the deck. After he waved up to the chopper, Grunt was hooked onto the rope, and he slid down the thirty-foot drop to the landing pad. The Coast Guardsman broke his fall and unhooked him from the rope. Soon Alpine, Chuckles and Crankcase were lowered, then the rope was pulled back up into the helicopter. Four enlisted men escorted the Joes below-decks. A small seat was hooked to the rope, and Mainframe sat on it. He weakly grabbed the rope, and was slowly lowered to the deck. The seat banged as a wave rocked the G.I. Jane into it. Two enlisted men scooped Mainframe up, and slowly walked him off the deck. The rope was raised again and the process was repeated for Bazooka.
As soon as the Joes were off, the Coast Guardsman was lifted back up into the chopper, the door slid shut and the HH-65 flew back towards Key West.
Dial-Tone breathed a sigh of relief and looked over to Hawk. "All clear, sir. The Coast Guard is heading--.." Dial-Tone paused when he looked over; the only thing left by the window were the binoculars that Hawk had been using. "Sir?"
7.
Scarlett stumbled through the sickbay's door and raced into Alpine's arms. "Well, I guess I should think about sailing more often!" joked the mountain trooper.
"I'm so glad to see that you're all okay!" cried Scarlett as she hugged everyone in the room, even a Navy enlisted man who hadn't left the room yet.
"I'm glad to see that you're still going strong." said Grunt.
"Well, my leg isn't exactly up to par, but I can move. I didn't lose any bone; just a bit of muscle." Scarlett walked over to Mainframe and Bazooka, who were asleep in a pair of beds. "How are they?
"They actually woke up on the flight over here, but they're still pretty weak." explained Grunt. We're not sure what's wrong with them. Lifeline thinks it might be biological experimenting."
Scarlett went pale. "You're kidding."
The sickbay door opened and Doc walked in. "I hate to be a sourpuss, but I'm going to have to kick you out, Scarlett. I've got a lot of work to do to get you guys up to battle-readiness, and I can't have any distractions."
Scarlett slowly limped towards the door. "Come see me as soon as you can." she asked Grunt.
Grunt nodded as Doc shut the door. Doc turned around and looked about the small room. "Where are Chuckles and Crankcase?
8.
Leaning over the port-side railing, Chuckles painfully heaved and threw up. He had never gotten his sea legs, and it was doubtful that he ever would. He always travelled by air, and luckily had managed to avoid sea-missions for the Joe team—up till now.
Crankcase walked up to the ill Joe and slapped him on the back, triggering another round of vomiting. "You look a little green, there, Chucky!" joked the A.W.E.-Striker driver.
"Get away from me, asshole." growled Chuckles.
Taking in a deep sniff of air, Crankcase continued his pestering, "Ah. Smell that salty sea air! Kinda gets ya right here, down in the guts!" He began jiggling his stomach, which caused Chuckles to puke yet again. Crankcase began laughing. "You know, you don't look like you're enjoying yourself, my friend!"
Pushing himself from the railing, Chuckles jumped for Crankcase and swung a punch, which, since he was so sick, was a mile off-target.
"At ease!" barked General Hawk. Both men snapped straight up and took stances with their hands behind them, although Chuckles could only hold it for a second, then he ran back to the railing and coughed up some more disgust.
"What the hell is going on here?" ordered the general. Neither soldier knew who should speak first.
"It's…it's my fault, sir." admitted Crankcase. "Chuckles is sick and I came here to tease him. I apologize, sir."
Hawk studied both men, but tried not to look at Chuckles for too long. "Crankcase, that was pretty damn juvenile of you. I'm disappointed. Get below-decks and get to sickbay. And don't come up until I tell you."
"Yes sir!" Crankcase saluted, then ran inside the nearest doorway.
Hawk walked over to Chuckles. "Not to be rude, but don't you have enough sense to see Doc about getting some medication for your seasickness?"
"I'm sorry, sir, but I'm allergic to Dramamine, and it's a bit late to take any ginger."
"Ah, well. Stay strong. We'll get to dry land soon enough. I'll keep you busy up on deck. Sound good?" The general gave a heart-felt smile.
"Yes, sir. Thanks, Hawk."
As the general walked away, he cringed at the thought of how close they really were to Cobra Island. The fate of the world depended upon an under-manned frigate, a couple old-fashioned hovercrafts and a pair of experimental jet crafts, operated by just eleven top-of-the-line soldiers, many of whom were so badly wounded that they couldn't even run onto the beach.
No matter how hard he tried, the General just couldn't have high hopes for the planned assault.