Chapter 4

The time for action was drawing near. With the help of Hannibal Smith and his "A-Team", Spike, his father Sparkplug, and Chip Chase now had what they hoped to be a winning course of action. Using good old-fashioned pencil and paper, Chip drew possibly the most detailed map of the Ark's interior ever made by human hands. Spike felt somewhat annoyed with himself for delaying getting his own computer fixed a few days prior; but now was not the time to ponder such missed opportunities. Aside from saving Chip from a modest hand-cramp, it mattered little. "I'm sure it'll be under heavy supervision," Chip said. "Our best bet would be to create a diversion, and get their attention away from the Ark's entrance."

Hannibal nodded his approval. "Sounds good to me, kid. Leave the diversion to us."

"I don't like that look," Face sighed, noting the sparkle in Hannibal's eyes. The handsome and well-dressed man could have been a model or an actor in a different life. But he was here, side by side with men who'd become his family in the most trying times imaginable. Men who put their lives on the line to save his own, and he to save theirs. "Every time you get that look, we get dirty. I mean, filthy dirty." At least his prized Corvette wasn't in any danger of being damaged.

Murdock jumped to his feet, drawing the eyes of everyone in the room towards him. He grabbed the blanket Chip had been using earlier, and slung it around his neck. He fashioned it to resemble a cape, and stood on the end of the couch. "They will not be able to defeat Captain Hero! I will use my super-"

B.A. grabbed him by the foot, and pulled him back down. "Shut up, crazy fool!" he barked. "You ain't no super hero, now sit down and listen up, or you might get hurt!"

"Why, B.A.," Murdock smiled. "I didn't know you cared."

Sporting gold chains, overalls, and a mohawk, B.A. made for quite a sight. Beneath it all, he had the heart of a teddy bear, but from all outward appearances he was a man with few equals when it came to intimidation. "Besides," he grumbled. "Hannibal's getting on the jazz." There were two things in life that made this mountain of a man nervous. One was flying, he loathed flying and usually required being knocked out to even enter a plane. The other was when Hannibal got on the 'jazz'. What is the 'jazz'? It depends on who you ask. Some refer to it as a state of mind or perhaps the rush one gets from playing hero. Regardless of how others viewed it, to B.A. it meant things were going to get interesting.

Spike felt his stomach tense up. "Are they always like this?" he asked.

"Usually, yes," Hannibal answered. He inched his way over towards Chip and reached for the drawing. "How about you let me take a look at that drawing, kid?"

Carly began to remember all the good things in her life. Spike. Her parents. And she felt ill at the possibility of never seeing them again. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake the feeling of total helplessness. She finally gave up trying to be strong, and began to cry herself to sleep.

Outside of where she was being kept, Miles Mayhem and Vanessa were getting ready to depart. They had decided to oversee things at the Ark and to ensure that no problems popped up. "The world will shake in fear at the mention of our name," Vanessa stated. "No one will be able to stop VENOM, not even your pathetic Cobra friends."

Miles sighed, as he reached for his personal briefcase. "Now, now, Vanessa. That is no way to talk about our business partners." Miles thought the same way Vanessa did, but would never dare speak of it aloud.

The large steel door located in front of them suddenly slid open. Miles turned to see who had entered, and was none too pleased with who he saw. "Destro," he said. "What brings you to our humble base of operations?"

Destro didn't smile. He didn't show any emotion at all. He was a man with a purpose and time was ticking away in the backdrop. He had actually arrived several minutes earlier, but he ran into some obstacles upon entering the location. "I killed three of your guards," he stated rather bluntly and without remorse. "They weren't going to let me inside." He stood confidently before them, silently daring them to provoke him further.

"You animal!" Vanessa yelled. She strutted over and got in Destro's face; her muscular form ripe with tension and aching to be released. In a rare moment of clarity, she thought otherwise of engaging the much larger Destro in a physical altercation. The anger and surprise quickly left her body, and she returned to a calmer state. "Nice mask," she seductively stated while running her fingers along the outlines of his face.

Destro stared hard. "Get your streetwalker out of my face, General. I am in no mood for her bipolar tendencies."

"You didn't answer my question," Miles said, his tone quick and impatient. "Why are you here?"

"I'm here to go over a proposal I received from your treasurer," Destro lied. "We're to discuss a possible weapons supply deal."

Miles nodded. "I see." Something in his gut told him Destro was lying, but he hadn't the time to play twenty questions. He and Vanessa needed to head out with no further delay. "Well," Miles continued. "I hope the offer is accepted, nobody supplies weapons like you do."

Miles and Vanessa began to depart. As they walked past Destro, Vanessa whispered in Destro's direction. "Freak."

Destro turned and started walking in the opposite direction. "Bitch," he responded. He waited until they had exited the room, and he put his wrist up to his mouth. "The rats have gone to feast. Bring in the fire," he whispered.

Faint sparks of light and the sizzling sound of forced fire could be seen and heard about ten feet from Destro. It was a blowtorch, cutting through the steel domain. It was also the quietest way to join him inside. After a few seconds, Firefly jumped through it. "Did anyone see you?" Destro asked.

"Do they ever?" Firefly asked. He was an expert on all forms of explosives and detonators, and was the top infiltrator Cobra had in its ranks. He was, quite simply, the best at what he did. "Copperhead is waiting on the outside in an unmarked helicopter, just like you ordered." Firefly drew his weapon and stood ready for any unplanned surprises. He walked over to Destro. "When do we get paid?"

"Half has already been deposited," Destro smiled at his greedy comrade. "You'll get the rest after we get the girl out of here. Alive."

Firefly shot a glance towards the steel door which stood between them and the imprisoned Carly. "I hope this broad is worth the trouble," he said. "How do we even know her boyfriend is going to pull this thing off?"

Destro was quick to respond. "I'm not paying you to hope, Firefly," he stated. "Or to talk!" Destro started walking over towards the control panel beside the steel door. "Spike Witwicky is not one to be under-estimated; he has a lot of hatred in his veins. And hatred is a most powerful weapon in times like these." He typed in the correct number sequence, and watched the door began to open slowly. "Affairs of the heart."

The loud 'clank' of the steel door unlocking startled Carly. She quickly rose from her bed and stood with her back touching the cold wall behind her. Her eyes were focused dead ahead, nervously waiting to see who was opening the door. Shock overcame her upon gazing at Destro, sending her crashing to the ground.

"Nice going," Firefly cracked. "You scared the life outta her. Maybe next time, you could put on a little make-up; that mask of yours freaks 'em out every time."

"Be silent," Destro ordered. He inspected the holding cell with a critical eye. "How very pathetic," he sighed. "Millions of dollars worth of equipment, and the only thing they have holding her in there is an electronically operated magnetic clasp!"

Firefly cracked a slight smile. "What did you expect? These guys are nobodies, light-weights compared to Cobra."

45 Minutes Later...

Spike and the others made their way to their respective spots, on both sides of the Ark's main entrance. Due to the obvious physical demands and the certainty of danger involved, Chip remained at the Witwicky's home. There was no doubt, however, that he was there in spirit.

"You doing okay over there, kid?" Hannibal asked via a walkie-talkie. Hannibal and the rest of the A-Team were located towards the east of the Ark's main entrance. Spike and Sparkplug were located towards the west.

"We're fine," Spike informed him. "Are you sure you can handle things out here long enough for us to do our thing?"

Hannibal quickly responded. "Don't worry, kid. We do this type of thing all the time, don't we guys?" He held out his walkie-talkie so the others could be heard.

"It's just another day at the office," Face added.

Murdock, who had been peering out through a pair of binoculars, tapped Hannibal on his shoulder. "Looks like a big-wig, boss."

Hannibal grabbed them and took a look for himself. He picked up his walkie-talkie and asked Spike to take a look and see if he recognized them.

Spike quickly complied. "I don't know who that woman is," he said. "But that older man... that's the officer I saw at the Air Base! That's the son of a bitch who ordered the attack on them!" Sparkplug noticed Spike's voice was growing louder, and patted him on the back. Spike picked up on the silent message, and lowered his voice back down to a near-whisper. "When are we gonna do this?" he asked, impatient and eager to get things started.

"Right about..." Hannibal started. He turned to Face and winked slyly, then smiled as he finished, "NOW- B.A.!!"

From seemingly out of nowhere, a very-heavily armored van roared, kicking up dust in its wake. With one hand firmly on the wheel, B.A. reached with his right hand and began flipping switches. One produced a tank-like turret, and another began discharging shells in the direction of the guards outside the Ark. Though he was nowhere near B.A., Hannibal swore he could hear him laughing.

The guards were caught unprepared, and began fumbling to find cover. An alarm began to sound, and more and more troops began to join the guards outside. B.A. kept a safe distance from them, but he was close enough so that his shots took effect. Hannibal led Face and Murdock down from their spot and took up firing positions closer to their targets. Seeing this, Spike and Sparkplug made their way down towards one of the Ark's side entrances. It was an entrance Wheeljack had made especially for Spike and his father, and Spike doubted that the guards would know about it.

Inside the Ark, Miles and Vanessa were in the midst of discussing future plans for world domination, as most evil would-be conquerors do when alone. A string of explosions, however, followed by the ground shaking with a mighty roar, brought them out of their intimate locale and screaming towards the Ark's entrance. "What the hell is going on out there?" Miles yelled angrily.

One of the troops paused on his way outside. "We're under attack, sir!"

"Under attack?" Miles asked, almost in a mocking tone. "By who?" For a moment, his mind pondered the possibility that his arch rival, Matt Trakker and his M.A.S.K. goons had somehow caught wind of their plans and were trying to intervene. Another set of explosions sent that idea rushing from his mind and returned his attention to the matter at hand.

"Don't know sir," the trooper said, "But they seem to be packing some serious firepower!"

end of chapter 4