Dreadnok Headquarters

Zandar stared intently at the CCTV display. The subject on the screen, with her raven hair, was brought into focus; the picture zoomed in, cropping her full face into the frame. She rose from her bunk, and Zandar moved the joystick, panning the view to follow her as she paced her cell.

A snort from Zarana caught his attention, and he regarded his sister's knowing smirk across the table, prompting him to turn off the display. He glanced at his watch.

The door to the small room opened, and Monkeywrench entered with Harvey Gabor brusquely in tow. The Dreadnok set the elder businessman down in the chair across the table from the siblings, and he retreated to stand guard by the door.

Harvey Gabor massaged his shoulder, sore from his captor's brutal ministrations. "Are you two in charge here?"

"No," Zandar said.

"You tell your boss I don't speak to underlings."

Zarana paused from buffing her nails to answer, "Tell him yourself."

Gabor looked around the room. "Where?"

Zartan's disembodied voice answered, "Hello, Harvey. I'm glad you decided to come, your attempt to tip off the Joes notwithstanding… It's been a long time."

Gabor continued to look about in vain for the source of the voice. "Do we know each other?"

"Well, I'm not exactly on your Christmas card list, but we've met before."

Zartan came out from hiding as his cloak discontinued under a flicker of light. He approached, his breast plate glowing a bright blue, and Gabor gasped.

"What's wrong?" Zartan said with a menacing leer. "You look ill at ease."

Gabor retreated further in his seat, shying away as Zartan stood over him. "The radiation from the stealth armor… you shouldn't use it. How did you even get your hands on it?"

"Why, you gave it to me, of course."

"Impossible. They all died."

"Oh, really? How could that happen? Didn't you bother to tell 'them' about the side effects?"

Gabor averted his eyes. "It wasn't my choice. It was supposed to be the government's job to disclose the effects of Fleeger radiation."

"Well, now's the time to make it right." The light in Zartan's breastplate faded. He sat on the table's edge with his arms folded. "Did you bring me what I asked for?"

Relieved, Gabor regained his composure. "If you'd done your homework, you'd know that I've been out of the game for over ten years, Dr. Hammler's death in '78 saw to that… most of the tribal knowledge regarding Watchdog was in his head."

Zartan was not impressed. "Oh, I did do my homework, Harvey. When I had the encryption signatures analyzed, I knew that someone smarter than you had taken Dr. Hammler's work to the next level. "

"What do you want from me, then?"

"I know that your contributions to Project Watchdog were more primitive. So primitive, in fact, that I'm banking that they'd escape the notice of any higher level countermeasures of succeeding generations of firmware built on top of the Watchdog platform."

Gabor snorted loudly. "All this trouble for a rescue disk?"

This made Zartan frown. "Don't be so glib, Harvey."

"But, why? Project Watchdog was an abysmal failure. No sane person would touch it with a ten foot pole."

"Then you should have no problem handing over what I want."

"The government confiscated all of our phase one data after phase two was destroyed. If I recall correctly, those idiots at MARS tried to build it into the side of a mountain?" (1)

"It was a mesa, actually," Zartan said. "That's why phase two was called 'Mesa'; granted it's a trivial distinction, but I like to be exact whenever possible."

"My point is, the government took everything we had. There's nothing left to give."

Zartan leaned in closer, looking Gabor directly in the eye, but the old man did not flinch. "Impressive. You haven't lost your knack for lying, old man. Fortunately, I know you Harvey: the show's not over until you say it's over." He retreated to Zandar's workstation and came back with an envelope. He opened it and emptied its contents for Gabor's review, saying, "I happen to have an itemized list of what your company turned in to DARPA. The thing I want is not on this list. That means you still have it."

Gabor looked over the papers briefly, and he shrugged. "Not really. You're living proof that people stole from me left and right, so how can you hold me accountable for a piece of fifteen year old code?" He casually tossed the papers aside. "Now, you seem to be a businessman, so let's talk business. I still have connections at DARPA, and I can get your hands on all kinds of future tech."

"You're hardly in a position to negotiate with me, Harvey," Zartan replied coolly. "Is your daughter not high enough of a price to pay?"

"Your position isn't as strong as you think." Gabor smirked. His confidence turning to arrogance. "I negotiate for a living. I know desperation, and you reek of it… you have a lot to lose yourself, don't you? Now, if you're the reasonable businessman you appear to be, we'll start by you letting my daughter go. When I get confirmation that she's safe, then we'll talk. But, If you kill her, I'll refuse to cooperate, and you'll get nothing."

Zartan gasped. "Harvey, you wound me. I was never going to kill your sweet, virginal daughter." And he turned on Zandar's monitor. The view was still panned in on Jetta's cell, so he zoomed out to get an all encompassing view of the entire detention area. The remaining Dreadnoks were standing guard over the Misfits, locked in their individual cells. He pushed the button on the intercom:

"Ripper."

The Dreaknok's voice broadcasted clearly. "Yeah, guv'nor?"

"Introduce yourself to Miss Phillips."

Ripper opened Stormer's cell. She fought back, but was no match for the Dreadnok's strength as he dragged her out to a table in the center of room. When he was done, she was bent over with her arms and torso stretched out over the table top and her legs splayed as each ankle was cuffed to a table leg.

"I know this one isn't your daughter, but I suspect that the expectation of a Father's worst nightmare is worse than the nightmare itself." Gabor averted his eyes, but Zartan turned the old man's head forcibly toward the monitor, saying, "Rest assured, when it's your dear Phyllis' turn, I'll make sure you have a front row seat. You're right: I can only kill your daughter once, but this… I can make you watch over, and over, and over—"

Gabor had had enough. "You've made your point! Stop this!"

"You stop this."

"There's a floppy disk sewn in the seam of my jacket. On it is everything I held back on project Watchdog, Including the unreleased baseline schematics and the BIOS override."

Using his knife, Zartan cut out the lining in Gabor's jacket and the floppy disk fell out. He retrieved it and inserted it into Zandar's computer, patiently waiting for the files to open. He nodded in approval upon viewing the contents.

On the monitor, the Dreaknoks egged Ripper on as he reached under Stormers smock. She bucked and screamed in vain as he pulled her panties down to around her knees.

"Please!" Gabor said. "I've given you everything!"

When Ripper started to unbuckle his trousers, Zandar made another entreatment on Gabor's behalf. "Zartan?" But, his brother seemed more interested in reading the contents of the floppy disk. So, he pushed the button on the intercom:

"Ripper. Stand down."

"Aw c'mon, Guv'nor. You're givin' me blue balls 'ere."

"Use your hand for all I care. Stand down now!" He killed the audio and regarded the Dreadnok in the room. "Monkeywrench, place Mr. Gabor in the vault."

Monkeywrench obeyed, and he hoisted Gabor up by his shoulder, causing the old man to wince. The room fell quiet at their egress.

Zartan continued to examine the code on the computer screen, though he had the presence of mind to regard his brother's glower. "Is there a problem?"

"None, brother."

"This is what you wanted, isn't it: to lead the Dreadnoks?"

"To lead, yes. I just didn't expect it to leave such a sour taste on my tongue."

"Your compassion is wasted on these elites." Zartan rose from his chair, and he approached Zandar. "Where was their compassion when we came up through the squalor… But, even then, I tried doing the right thing... and look where it got me." His breastplate glowed in answer.

"I am with you brother – you know this. I'm just tired of being associated with these hooligans. We are better than this."

"Is it not better for them to be on our leash, lest they roam free unchecked?" Zartan placed his hand on Zandar's shoulder, continuing with, "It's the Dreadnoks that are more deserving of your compassion, for a Dreadnok is not born, but created: yet another symptom of how sick Western society is. A sickness brought about by the greed, apathy and the tacit compliance of The People."

Zarana smiled. "Zandar has always been a sensitive sort."

"Don't tease your brother, Zarana. We'll need his compassion when we build the new world out of the ashes of the old. Like a computer with a virus: it's best to reformat and reinstall... starting anew." Satisfied, Zartan changed the subject with, "Now, enough about Gabor. I want to talk about our guest of honor."

Zandar changed the channel on the closed circuit television. The infrared display clearly showcased their newest prisoner. "Jerrica Benton… she's interesting, but I don't understand why you didn't just expose her identity and be done with it?"

"Call it a professional courtesy. There are rules to this, brother."

"I have a lot to learn."

"So, you've studied her long enough. What are your first impressions?"

"She's resourceful and intelligent." Zandar began. "She's systematically examined her cell, looking for weaknesses to exploit, and in so doing came across one of our hidden surveillance cameras."

"The one we made easy to find?"

"Yes. And ever since then she's been careful to stay out of the camera's field of vision."

"Interesting. Do we know how she establishes contact with Synergy?"

"That took me a while to figure out, when I saw this..."

Zandar cued the recording to the interesting time index showing Jerrica sitting quietly on the floor, when she bolted upright at the sight of a holographic projection of California. Zartan looked on thoughtfully as Zandar went on to explain:

"This happened shortly after we reassembled and powered on Synergy. It's a hologram of a map showing our location… It seems to be a type of distress beacon."

"Benton appears surprised by the projection, suggesting that she did not invoke it," Zartan said. (2)

"I came to the same conclusion. I must've tripped it when I stepped Synergy through its boot sequence, I gather it's an automated signal designed to alert the owner."

"Which isn't much help as we also have the owner captive," Zartan said with a laugh. "Still, this doesn't answer my question."

"Keep watching," Zandar persisted. "When I discovered the signal, I cut the power to Synergy... Watch what she does…."

Zartan peered intently into the display, and he smiled. "She keeps touching her earring. The earring doubles as the transceiver... ingenious." He put his arm around his brother and presented the floppy disk, saying, "I want to observe how Benton interacts with the asset. Reunite her with Synergy, but when you power it on, inject this code into the system."

Zandar took the proffered object. "Gabor's disk? What is it going to do?"

Zartan grinned. "It should act as a... cybernetic truth serum."

Zandar put the disk in his pocket. "Shall I interrogate her?"

"No. I'll handle this personally. And make sure we have our privacy."

It was then that Zarana's eyes perked. "Can I come with, brother?"

Zartan regarded his sister lazily. "Really, Zarana, find some other outlet to slake your boredom. I have work to do."

"I promise I'll be quiet." She rose from her seat and with a pout, she took her brother by the arm. "Please?"

Zartan merely blinked. "I spoil you, you know that?"

"That's because you adore me."

In carrying out his brother's mandate, Zandar left the control room and negotiated the twisted labyrinth of halls until he reached the main antechamber. He paused upon hearing music and raucous laughter coming from the Misfit's detention area.

This can't be good….

He took a detour and opened the door; he was greeted by a waft of second hand smoke. He entered to see that Stormer was still bound to the table. Gabor was seated at the other end, half conscious, as three empty shot glasses were upended in front of him. The Dreadnoks were congregated around the karaoke machine, singing with drunken abandon:

. . .

We're Cold Slither

You'll be joining us soon

A band of vipers

playing our tune.

With an iron fist

and a reptile hiss

we shall ruuuuule…!

. . .

Zandar unplugged the device, to the consternation of the participants. "Why is Phillips still tied to the table, and why isn't Gabor in his cell?"

Torch was the first to speak, though he had trouble forming the words. "Well, seeing as 'ow we're one Dreadnok short, Gabor 'ere is taking up Buzzer's slack, otherwise the tequila doesn't divide equally."

"And Philips?" Zandar persisted.

"Pizzazz 'ere agreed to be our backup vocalist—"

"'Ow many times I gotta tell you this one is Stormer," Ripper scoffed.

Unperturbed, Torch corrected himself. "Stormer 'ere agreed to be our backup vocalist, didn't you dearie." He patted her on the head when she nodded. "She's actually pretty good; we're thinking of makin' her an honorary member of Cold Slither." He patted her head again. "Would you like that, luv?"

Stormer whimpered unintelligibly.

Zandar had heard enough. "All of you get out, now!"

Monkeywrench frowned. "What gives, Zandar? We're just 'aving a bit 'o fun after a long day."

"Go have fun somewhere else."

Thrasher upturned his shot glass, and he burped. "I get it: you want the first taste. Why didn't you say so?"

Zandar sighed in surrender. "You got me..."

Thrasher approached, and he put his arm around Zandar, more for support than out of camaraderie. "You should'a told us you fancied her, Guv'nor."

Zandar continued to placate them, saying, "Perhaps I fancy all of them." He illustrated this by placing his hand on Stormer's butt, giving it a generous squeeze.

The Dreadnoks all laughed, and they left without further incident, though Thrasher lingered.

"Here." Thrasher reached into his pocket and placed something in Zandar's hand, saying, "With the AIDS thing going around, you can't be too careful with these loose rocker types."

Zandar opened his palm and regarded the condom. "Er, thanks." When the last Dreadnok left, he tossed the condom on the table. He forgot that he still had his hand on Stormers backside; she was sobbing.

"You animal!" Pizzazz rattled the door to her cage, loud but ultimately ineffectual. "Is this the only way a dickless bastard like you can get women!"

Zandar ignored her. He went over to Gabor and presented him with a key, saying, "Untie her, and calm her down." He noticed that the old man had trouble keeping his balance. "Can you walk?"

Gabor nodded. "I can't kick 'em back like in the old days, but I'll manage." He then did as he was told and unlocked Stormers cuffs, starting with her hands, allowing her the dignity of putting her panties back on. He then helped her to her cell, easing her onto the bed.

Stormer hugged her knees to her chest. "I'm sorry, I-I can't stop shaking."

"Don't you dare apologize." Gabor said. "This is all my fault."

Pizzazz reached through the bars from her adjacent cell. "Daddy!" and Gabor embraced her.

"Phyllis, thank god you're all right."

"Daddy, please pay these men so we can go home."

"It's not that simple, pumpkin. They don't want money."

"I don't understand."

"They want the things my company use to build for the government's military."

"Military?" Pizzazz questioned. "like weapons?"

"Something like that."

"But, why? You have so much money."

"How do you think I got there? Military contracts in the seventies, at the height of the cold war, were very lucrative."

Pizzazz's eyes narrowed. "What did you do?"

"My company… we started something dangerous."

"So, we're here because of you? They used me to get to you?"

"Yes." Gabor averted his eyes. "I'm sorry, pumpkin."

"All these years, all you've done is criticize me." She retreated to her bunk. "Saying how spoiled I was… how I hung out with the wrong crowd... When all this time you were playing at a different level."

"Phyllis, it's not that simple."

She snorted. "No wonder mom left you."

He glared at his daughter. "Phyllis. That's enough."

"NO!" she rose from her bunk in defiance. "You do NOT get to lecture this time! We're here because of you and your death-dealing ways. You are the fuck-up this time, not me!" And she turned her back to him.

The drama having run its course, Zandar beckoned Gabor over. "Back in your cell." The old man obeyed, and Zandar locked his cage. He started to leave; as he passed Jetta's cell, the raven-haired Misfit reached out and grabbed at his arm from behind her bars.

"Can I talk to you in private, please."

Zandar grudgingly opened her cell and escorted her to the far side of room, out of the earshot of the others.

He glanced at his watch. "Ten seconds."

Jetta wasted no time, whispering, "I wasn't born with a silver spoon in my mouth, so I know how this story is going to end." She took his hand in hers and, with pleading eyes, said, "All I'm askin' is… when it's our time, let it be you…."

His eyes widened as the implication of her request dawned on him. He grabbed her roughly.

"What did I say?" Jetta winced as he pulled her along, back to her cell. He threw her inside and locked her cage. "I'm sorry!"

Without a word, he left the lock-up area. The heavy door closed, and he turned to punch it. His fist, slamming into the steel, echoed in the antechamber.

Once Zandar regained his composure, he remembered the floppy disk in his pocket and proceeded to the adjacent wing leading out of the antechamber. He found the lone vault at the end of the hall, and he opened it.

He regarded the lone occupant crouched in the far corner of the cell. "Come with me."

Jerrica Benton averted her eyes from the bright light that flooded in at the door's opening. "I'm not going anywhere with you!"

At the end of his patience, Zandar unclipped the taser from his utility belt and pointed it in her direction. The device chimed, indicating a full charge. "You will come with me quietly, or I will zap you with 50,000 volts and drag your unconscious body by your hair."

Jerrica glared at him, dried streaks of mascara stained her cheeks, but she wisely rose to her feet and obeyed. Zandar led her further down a hall that joined to another antechamber.

"What is this place?"

Zandar did not answer. He opened the metal door on the right, and she entered. Once inside, she stilled, as she couldn't see much past the entrance. Zandar retrieved an object lain along the wall, a chain dragged behind him as he approached.

He presented a thick leather harness, saying, "Turn around." And he fastened it around her tiny waist, locking it into place. He then disappeared to the back of the room, obscured by shadow, and completed his task, inserting the disk and plugging Synergy back into the power cable. After his work was completed, he promptly left the room, willfully oblivious to Jerrica's presence. The door slammed behind him.

Darkness returned. Jerrica proceeded to explore the room, when the chain, held taut, moored against the wall, stopped her. She grabbed the end of the chain attached to her harness and pulled, but she was no match for it.

A familiar electric hum drew her attention to the back of the room. The object, once cloaked in shadows came alive as a rainbow of colors lit all along its person to illuminate the surrounding walls.

Jerrica smiled. "Synergy?"

A/N

(1) G.I. Joe ARAH episode "The Pit of Vipers"

(2) Zartan is right; Aja invoked it in Chapter 14