Thanks to the people who are reading and reviewing this fic, I appreciate your efforts. First, to Ninja75, I am more a fan of the comics that ran for nearly 20 years. I despise the cartoon (even when I watched it as a kid I couldn't stand it). In the comics, Baroness has always been German, just fyi. To Mistflyer, thank you for your encouragement, I hope to continue to keep your interest as this fic moves forward. The "blurbs" you referred to are a version of the character bio's that was provided with each action figure.
I am going to start introducing other members of the GI JOE team that were never mentioned in the movie. For example, I was very amused to see Brendan Frasier in the movie and was hoping he'd get a little more face time, but was disappointed by them giving him a completely new name. I thought he'd be a lot more interesting as Flint, so when you see references to that character, think Brendan Frasier.
Please continue to provide reviews. Thank you… and enjoy.
File Name – Heavy Duty
Real Name – Dalton, Hershel A.
Rank – E-5 (Sergeant)
Primary MOS – Squad Automatic Weapons
JOE Serial Number – 807-46-LM65
Birthplace – Manchester, England, United Kingdom
Qualifications – All NATO personal arms (Expert rating), NATO and former Warsaw Pact heavy weapons (Master rating)
Tactical coordinator for Team Alpha, this veteran of the British SAS is one of the physically strongest members of GI JOE. Highly experienced with all squad automatic weapons, machine guns and heavy weapons, including indirect fire weapons (i.e., mortars and artillery). Serving as his squad's commander in the SAS, Heavy Duty's brawn and tactical mindset has saved Team Alpha on more than one occasion. Also an amateur chef and fan of classical music. Cousin of GI JOE Roadblock (see Roadblock personnel file).
Duke and Ripcord had to resist the urge to fidget as the powerfully-built black SAS soldier stalked back and forth behind them. Ripcord barely managed to fight down a yawn, knowing he'd get ripped apart if he'd had.
They'd been woken a full hour before dawn by a US Ranger who'd ordered them to address him as Master Sergeant Beach Head, then had them dressed and into a ten mile run before they'd even been fully awake. Then they'd slogged through an urban obstacle course; climbing, jumping up, jumping down, sliding and crawling. They'd both been exhausted when he said he was done with them, looking forward to some breakfast. Then he'd ordered them to report to Heavy Duty for their first day of training.
Exoskeletal suits of some kind were in their places, and both men initially had trouble not gawking. Last they'd heard, things like this were still in developmental stages.
"You may have blackmailed your way to this point," Heavy Duty said suddenly, "and it seems like Hawk is giving you a chance. But I hate people who use tactics like that to get their way. Hawk said we're supposed to train you. But that doesn't mean I have to like it."
Duke looked to the side, hoping to see a little bit more than just the exoskeleton. His eyes narrowed as he spotted that masked commando, Snake Eyes, standing near the doorway. Arms folded across his chest, it was impossible to tell whether the man was just watching or glaring like Heavy Duty.
"But whether I like it or not, it's our job to get you both ready, JOE style. Standing in front of you," continued Heavy Duty, "are Delta-6 Accelerator Suits."
"What's it accelerate?" asked Ripcord, eyeing the bulky suits warily.
"You," was the simple reply. "They'll make you run faster, jump higher, and hit harder than any human being. Head-to-toe turbo hydraulics are coupled with the equivalent of a fly-by-wire system. Sensors in the suit monitor electrical impulses through your body and the suit is programmed to respond accordingly. You think it… the suit does it. You'll be able to dead-lift a full-size car without a problem, and your top running speed will average about 60 miles per hour."
"Not kph?" asked Ripcord with a grin.
Heavy Duty took two long strides until he was staring at Ripcord's profile. The latter snapped to attention.
"Does this seem like a game to you?" demanded the SAS trooper.
"No sir!" replied Ripcord. He hoped this wasn't going to be as bad as Basic, but he had a bad feeling that based on how this morning was going, that it was going to be worse.
Heavy Duty looked past Ripcord to Duke. "Is there anything you want to say, soldier?"
"No sir!"
"Good," growled Heavy Duty. "Each suit comes equipped with a rotary weapon on each forearm. On the left arm, two gas-propelled grappling spears and six heat-seeking fire-and-forget missiles. On your right arm is a caseless 10 mm submachine gun with six hundred rounds. On full auto, you'll hit empty in thirty seconds, so it's set up to fire in ten-round bursts. The first, fifth, and tenth rounds in the bursts are tracers. Perfect for a couple of American cowboys like yourselves.
"The visor includes an advanced cybernetics heads-up graphics display and personal radar system to detect hazards in your way. Eye movement and voice commands control the display."
"How about the armor itself?" asked Duke, "How much protection do we get out of these things?"
"The Delta-6 is designed to spread impacts over as much of itself as possible," explained Heavy Duty, "you can survive getting hit by a car going at a moderate speed, but you'll be sore for a day or two. The armor over the torso is an advanced titanium alloy. It'll stop anything up to a .50-cal. Limbs are less protected, but you'll still be safe against small arms fire. The faceplate is a complex polymer laminate, and it's crack resistant, but a bullet will punch through that like a car windscreen."
"So when do we test these out?" asked Duke.
"Suit up," ordered Heavy Duty.
It was almost as good as flying, Ripcord decided. It didn't quite have the roar of a jet engine and you weren't going supersonic, but overall it was… fun.
He and Duke had breezed around the standard quarter-mile track in less than a minute, and then Heavy Duty had taken them to the urban assault course, where they'd found they could jump over a single story home without much of a problem. At the firing range they'd tried out the rotary arm guns. Between the weapon's own exacting accuracy, combined with the targeting system in the visor, both of them were able to put the entire magazine's worth of bullets between the eyes of the target at almost fifty yards.
At the firing range they'd met the leader for Team Bravo, an American warrant officer named Flint. He wore the same dark uniforms as the rest of the Joes, and kept a black beret on his head with the Green Beret logo. A tall man with an easy smile, he also made it clear he was highly educated, and made it obvious that he wasn't going to let them forget it anytime soon.
Several other Joes were at the firing range, and gave them the opportunity to meet some of them. Some gave them looks as frosty as Heavy Duty had, but most were more friendly. The majority of them were American, which Duke and Ripcord had expected, but at least a third were international; Canadian, British, French, Israeli, Korean, German, Australian, Egyptian, and even a few more.
If there was one thing that was made perfectly clear on this first day as members of GI JOE, it was that General Hawk had been right. These men and women were the best of the best. Even the support personnel were top-notch.
Even if every other elite group in the world would fail at a mission, GI JOE would not.
Duke walked down one of the nearly empty hallways much later that night. Well, shuffling along was more like it. After the firing range, which he admitted to Ripcord was a hell of a lot fun, they'd returned the Delta-6 suits. Heavy Duty had then grabbed Beach Head, and the two of them had made Duke and Ripcord go through three different obstacle courses… twice.
Several other Joes nodded to him as they passed, and he returned the friendly, if silent, greeting. He was fortunate that his and Rip's quarters were close to his destination, otherwise he worried that he might have passed out on the way. He found the door and knocked.
It opened to reveal Heavy Duty, music filling the room.
"Hey HD," greeted Duke, "do you mind if I come in."
Heavy Duty stepped back to let him in and closed the door quietly. Duke wasn't surprised to see that the room was nearly identical to his and Rip's. A small sitting area with a TV and a stack of DVD's, a small kitchenette, and two separate but tiny bedrooms and a shared bathroom. Small, but comfortable. Unless one of the roommates was built like a football lineman.
A book lay open on the small table. Duke glanced at the cover. A cookbook by Bobby Flay. Then Duke actually paid attention to the music.
"Classical music?" he asked in surprise.
"Bach," answered Heavy Duty, sitting down in one of the two chairs. He waved a hand for Duke to take a seat. "Brandenburg Concerto number 5 in D major. You listen to classical at all?"
Duke shook his head. "Not really much a music guy."
"It's too bad," commented Heavy Duty, "it's very relaxing. After a mission you sit down, get a book, have a little Bach in the background, and everything seems better."
Duke looked at his hands, wondering how he was going to say what he wanted to say.
"HD, what do you have against Rip and me?" he asked, "You've been treating us like lepers since we arrived."
Heavy Duty leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I don't like what you did to get yourself a place on this team. You have information on what is obviously a very dangerous foe, and you're holding it as ransom to get yourself onto a team that you've already rejected. You say you know her, so she's probably either family or an ex-lover. Which means you want to be on the team because your pride's been hurt."
Duke shuddered a little. He'd known that Heavy Duty couldn't be all brawn and no brains to have made it onto GI JOE, but to actually hear the man's insight and his reasoning, Duke wondered if he'd made a mistake in coming here.
"That pride makes you a danger to the team, a danger to us," continued Heavy Duty, "so that's why I don't like you. Hawk's giving you a chance that I don't think he should. He's doing it because he believes in second chances and that if you prove yourself worthy, you deserve the reward."
"You make it sound like he's a legend," commented Duke.
"The general is a legend," replied Heavy Duty firmly, his eyes boring into the smaller man. "He's never let us down. He's stood up for us against NATO, the UN, the American military, anybody that's tried to shut us down. Whenever a Joe needs him, Hawk is there. When we break the rules for each other, Hawk is there to stand up for us. No armchair commander would do what Hawk does. He doesn't send us into any situation he wouldn't willingly shoot his way into. They don't call him the Tomahawk for nothing."
Duke sat there for a few moments, staring at his hands. He thought about his parents, back home in St. Louis, and realized he hadn't sent them a letter in a while.
"Do you guys ever go home?" he asked, "Wherever home is?"
"Home for me is Manchester," answered Heavy Duty, "I visited my family last year for my parents' 40th anniversary. I send a letter and make a phone call to them every month. I think Scarlett calls her father in Georgia two or three times a month."
"What about Breaker?"
Heavy Duty shrugged. "Abel doesn't talk much about any family. I know he grew up in Rabat. Came to the JOE team from the Moroccan Royal Guard. Other than that, Breaker likes to keep his history to himself."
"Where does Snake Eyes come from?" asked Duke curiously.
"That's classified."
"HD, just about everything about GI JOE is classified," protested Duke.
Heavy Duty shrugged again. "There are so many classified codes on Snakes' record that sometimes I think I'd be amazed to find someone who admits that a file even exists. That man is a total mystery, but he's real good at his job. Hell, he's the best."
Both men were quiet for a few moments.
"You should probably get to sleep," said Heavy Duty, "Beach Head will be back in the morning for you and Ripcord, and there isn't a single day that gets any easier. He will make you hate him, but by the time Beach is through with you, you'll be in the best shape of your life and ready for any challenge his deranged mind can come up with."
Duke nodded and rose, then slowly made his way back to his and Ripcord's room.