Chapter 33

"I know where they are," I announce.

I snicker as my brother jumps to his feet as though he's just received an electric shock. He signs to ask whether I'm serious. I nod, smiling.

He then signs to ask whether I'm sure or just have the beginning of a guess.

I roll my eyes at him. "Would I say that I know where they are if I only had a vague guess to offer? I don't have exact coordinates, but I'm sure of the general location."

He nods and practically skips to the right side of the bed to push the button to call a doctor.

Lifeline tears in a few seconds later and, after a quick glance at me and the various monitors I'm connected to informs him I'm not in need of any immediate assistance, he glares at Snake Eyes.

"Did we not specifically request that you only use that button for emergencies?" He asks.

Snake Eyes crosses his hands in front of his mouth as a useless reminder to the medic that he can't exactly call out to him. I snicker, and Lifeline rounds on me.

"And what's YOUR excuse? If you feel well enough to laugh, you could have just called out. That button is for EMERGENCIES." He repeats. "I thought your lung collapsed again!"

My eyes widen a bit. His heart rate IS elevated beyond what can be accounted for by his being startled by a sudden noise. I know he's been ordered to keep me alive, but his being genuinely concerned for a man who sent several of his teammates to his care or beyond is honestly a bit of a shock.

"You're my patient," he snaps, correctly interpreting my reaction. "I don't judge patients. What to do with you once you're patched up is Hawk's problem; mine and Doc's is to make sure he gets to have that problem. Now what do you want?"

"I was just telling Snake Eyes I have the location of Cobra's new head quarters for Hawk." I smirk at my brother. "I think he got a bit anxious to share the news and forgot, in his excitement, that that button was NOT our only way to get your attention and ask you to call your commanding officer."

Lifeline is already back in the infirmary's office, on the phone, telling someone what I just told him. I'm not sure he even heard what I said past my first sentence, but my brother definitely did: he huffs and signs that he supposes he shouldn't complain since making fun of him at least shows I'm getting back to my old self. I snigger at him half heartedly - my mind is starting to wander into memories of my time with Cobra again. I stop it the same way I have for the past week, by focusing on Cobra's new base, going through the various clues I've connected in my head once more while we wait for my brother's commanding officer.

We don't wait very long: Hawk comes in within minutes, looking and sounding more than a bit impatient. He sits next to the bed and undoes the restraints.

"Sit up, son," he says, smiling.

I resist rolling my eyes at the appellation and sit up. "You can call me Tommy," I suggest.

He nods. "All right then, Tommy. So, you know where Cobra's new headquarters are?"

I nod. "Antarctica."

He predictably looks doubtful. In fact, his smile vanishes and his eyes narrow as he wonders whether I'm fooling around with him.

"Hear me out…"

"Antarctica?" he growls, interrupting me. "This is no time for jokes, Storm Shadow. Are you serious?"

"Completely. Come now, you honestly think the fact that it's impractical would be a deterrent to the Commander? The man lives for scheming and planning. Hear me out, and if you still think I'm wrong after I've explained how I've reached my conclusion, just tell me why and I'll try again."

He sighs, leans back and rubs his forehead with his thumb and forefingers, as though he's having a headache. After a second, he opens his eyes again and stares into mine for a moment.

"All right," he sighs. "Let's hear it. Why do you think the Commander would have moved all his troops to the most remote location he could possibly find on the planet?"

I shake my head. "I never said he moved all of them there. He's also set up several manned outposts, one of which in Austin."

Hawk's eyes widen and from his pulse and breathing, it's easy to tell the idea of a Cobra HQ with only a part of the Commander's army defending it greatly appeals to him. He gestures for me to continue.

I start with all the clues I've gathered that point to somewhere very cold, from the time I overheard the Commander asking Destro about armoured snowmobiles, to the glance I caught of heated uniforms, to several overheard bits of conversations on building in subzero temperature, tunnelling through ice and frozen ground, and efficient heating.

Hawk stops me there, looking downright furious. "Bits of conversation overheard in passing? Glances? Is this a joke to you? Look, I know about your memory… in fact, I obviously know better than you think. I know you don't forget things you've learned, but I also know you do NOT have a photographic memory. You don't remember EVERYTHING you're exposed to without even trying. You're making all this up!"

Snake Eyes shifts his weight, looking distinctly uncomfortable - rightly so, since he's obviously the one who gave Hawk the information that his general is now so grossly misusing. I narrow my eyes at Hawk and make no effort at all to hide my irritation. In fact, my voice comes out as something between a growl and a snarl.

"I am most certainly NOT making anything up. Your team gave me back my freedom and, much to my continued amazement, managed to do so without killing me. I have every intention to repay my debt to you, and the most immediate thing I can do towards that is to tell you where Cobra's new base is, as promised. As for my memory," I shoot a glare at Snake Eyes, "like anybody else, I can sometimes remember things that I didn't think I had committed to memory by this funny little process called 'thinking very hard'. I was also left alone, for hours, whenever the brainwashing came undone and I spent a good chunk of those hours trying to remember anything useful I might have been exposed to in the previous few days. Most of what I've managed to remember now is actually things I remember remembering when I was sifting through a few days of memories at a time, while they were still fresh, if very foggy… I can barely remember vague images of what I've seen, so I can't read back any documents to you, or describe any map or blueprints. I think I've seen some, but I'm not even sure. Those uniforms are an exception; I was almost back to myself when I saw them, and I was puzzling over them while I was waiting to be turned into an obedient cross between a ninja and a potted plant again. Thankfully, I can remember the sounds better."

Snake Eyes nods and signs that my remembering sounds but not sights is not at all surprising. Hawk lets out a breath and calms down a bit, settling into an all-business scowl.

"Very well," he says. "I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt on this, but you need to give me more than that. All you have up to date are clues that the Commander was, at some point, considering somewhere cold."

I nod and proceed to tell him about overheard conversations on secure communications between sites, about entire units leaving with a lot of equipment and about overheard conversations between troopers, asking each other where they were going.

"That's how I know there's an outpost in Austin," I specify. "It's the only location I remember being mentioned during those conversations, but I'm positive there were several more. The Commander has never divided his troops so much before – I'm sure he still wouldn't if not for the headquarters being in a very remote location. These outposts are the only way he can be tucked away safely, far from everything and from prying eyes, while still having people who can deploy relatively quickly where he needs them."

"How divided are we talking about, here? Would there be a lot of troops assigned to these outposts?"

I shake my head. "I'm sorry, I don't know. I remember being aware of a group leaving on three separate occasions, but I can't even remember how large they were, and I have no idea how many more left without my knowing about it. I can't imagine the Commander NOT having a very large number of soldiers with him to use as a shield against any possible attack, however. He always assumed Cobra Island would be invaded eventually, and he always assumed Springfield would be discovered and attacked eventually, so he WILL assume this new base is eventually going to be under attack as well, I'm sure of it."

Hawk nods, still frowning, but it seems to be more in concentration than anger now. I think he's starting to entertain the possibility that I'm right, just in time for me to share the three pieces of information that convinced me.

"I also overheard of an ongoing project by its codename several times. That codename was spoken relatively freely; I think most of the people using it had no idea what it was all about beyond their own small role."

From behind Hawk, Snake Eyes signs that building up melodrama and suspense is not a good use of his commanding officer's time, paraphrasing me from a few days ago. I try to scowl at him but I end up chuckling instead, only to fight back tears of joy the next second. The fact that he's on my side again, that we're brothers again, that I'm finally not alone anymore, is suddenly monopolizing my thoughts. Much to my displeasure, I prove Psyche-Out's diagnosis of 'fragile' for me right by having an insane amount of trouble getting my thoughts back on track. I really do wish I could just get a grip, already. I've been free from Cobra's brainwashing for days, there's no excuse for my head to still be so messed up.

I thankfully at least manage to stay in control so that as far as Hawk and my brother are concerned, all I did was chuckle briefly before looking serious again.

"The codename was Minus Nine-Oh," I finish.

Hawk's pulse and breathing accelerate slightly and his eyes widen. "The latitude for the South Pole. I have to admit, you're starting to convince me."

"I also remember pieces of conversations between the Commander and Destro, discussing the hole in the ozone layer and whether it could be exploited."

I stop again, purely for effect. Hawk's heart rate has picked up a bit more, and he's looking a bit distracted, presumably because part of his mind is already thinking about the logistics and the red tape involved in mounting an attack in Antarctica. Snake Eyes gestures me to go on.

"Finally, I distinctly remember the Baroness slipping once and starting to say Antarctica. The Commander cut her off mid word, so all that came out was Antar-, but between that and the other clues I've just told you about, I'm personally quite sure of my guess."

Hawk nods distractedly and sits back in his chair, not saying anything for a few minutes before he locks eyes with me again and grins.

"I think you're right," he says. "We could both be wrong, but it's definitely worth investigating."

The restraints never do go back on. After a brief conversation with Doc – called in by Lifeline at his request - to make sure there's no medical reason for my being immobilized any longer, Hawk calls an escort and I'm brought to a cell that, at first glance, would definitely be harder to escape than the one in Alcatraz. Thankfully, it also looks much more comfortable, if a lot less private: the front wall is completely transparent.

"We're still working out exactly what to do with you," Hawk says, sounding just shy of apologetic. "I suggest you don't try to escape, it would only make things worse."

I snort. "You do realize that I wouldn't just try, don't you?"

He glares at me.

I chuckle. "I'm kidding. I wouldn't; I promised I'd find that base for you, I can't very well take off on you until I know for sure that I've fulfilled that promise."

He nods curtly, orders a five men guard for me at all time and leaves.

It only takes a few minutes for it to become obvious I'm not going to enjoy the next little while. I'm trying to concentrate on remembering more clues that would either narrow down where the base is some more or launch me in a new direction, but I can't work up the motivation: I know I'm right, and I know I've remembered as much as I ever will on the subject.

This leaves me with nothing to focus on. Predictably, my mind starts wandering right back into the low points of my time with Cobra. Sounds and images from the past twelve years take over, from my actually enjoying a day out stealing an art piece, only to see a random building being blown up in Moscow thanks in part to that theft; to my killing soldiers for no other reason than the Commander was paying me to do it, or more precisely, was supposed to eventually pay me; to my allowing Mindbender to erase my memories again because they were unpleasant and because I was afraid of the bogeyman; countless hearts stopping from my murdering their owner in cold blood, for reasons that were really no good at all. I may be a ninja, but my family's always drawn the line at hit contracts, until, as he first put it, I sold my soul to the Commander. In a few short years, I've undone hundreds of years of my clan's sticking to their values and principles.

My mind finally comes back to the present when I hear Psyche-Out's name from one of the soldiers guarding me. I then realize I'm sitting on my bed with my head buried in my knees and hurriedly straighten up, horrified at how pathetically I was behaving and at the same time, rather glad Psyche-Out might come over: I'm confident he'll provide at least a little bit of distraction, even if of the irritating kind.

I hear his steps approaching a few minutes later and get up in an attempt to look and feel stronger and less, as he puts it, fragile. The memories are still replaying in my head, but at least they're not taking over my senses at the moment. Psyche-Out takes one of guards' chairs, noisily drags it until it's only a step away from the transparent wall of my cell and sits on it, legs crossed and hands joined at the fingers, observing me.

The memories instantly start dimming away as I focus all my willpower into not trying to punch him through the wall. He notices a change in my stance and smiles. It always feels like he's smiling benignly at a lab rat when he does that.

"Sorry for staring at you like this." He says. "I was told you were curled up in a ball, so I was trying to see if you were only standing again out of a misplaced feeling of needing to prove some kind of mental manliness. I'm afraid I can't tell, so I'll just ask: how are you feeling?"

I debate shortly between lying through the whole conversation and telling the truth. I settle on being honest solely because anchoring myself on the present reality seems more likely to keep the memories away than trying to make things up.

"I'm fine. I've just been rehashing some old memories."

He nods knowingly. "Nice memories?"

I glare at him.

"So… no," he says. "Well then, why are you rehashing them?"

"You're trying to make me say I can't help it."

"Indeed I am. So then, can you? Help it, that is?"

I glare at him again.

His heart rate speeds up a bit, but he gamely goes on. "No again, obviously."

My eyes narrow. "It doesn't matter," I snarl. I think I'd rather be left to myself after all.

"Yes it does. It matters to you because it bothers you, and it matters to me because I want to help you," he replies, so automatically that he sounds just like a recording. I feel my blood pressure rising.

"I don't need psychiatric help," I growl.

"Really?" He shrugs. "Could have fooled me, not to mention your guards. Big bad ninja, curling up in a ball because a, he's plagued by powerful flashbacks and b, they're taking his mind over so much that he doesn't actually know where he is or what he's doing anymore... seems to me like you're not doing that great."

My fists clench. If not for the fact he's a soldier and I've killed more than enough of my former brothers in arms as it is, I'd be finding out first hand how solid my wall is by trying to get through it to rip his head off. "I'm FINE," I insist.

He shrugs and gets up. "All right. Suits me, it's great for your guards' morale. I'd say they're going to be laughing over this little episode for days. The man who used to scare them so much, hugging himself and quivering because he can't control his own head… although I suppose not being in control isn't exactly a new experience for you. Maybe that's why you don't mind?"

I know perfectly well he's just trying to make me angry so I'll lose my inhibitions, but knowing he's egging me on doesn't make it any less effective. I feel the blood rushing to my face at the idea of the guards having a laugh at my expense and from there, it goes straight to my head.

I have no idea what I scream at him within the next several minutes. I'm pretty sure I've switched to Japanese a few times, and I'm reasonably certain that on the whole, I didn't make a whole lot of sense. By the time I stop for breath, he's sitting down again, legs crossed, hands joined at the fingers and perfectly calm, listening intently.

"I'm sorry I don't speak Japanese," he says, taking advantage of my temporary silence. "I think I've missed quite a few inventive insults in there."

I glare at him again, fists still clenched.

"Now," he continues. "I did catch, somewhere in all that, that you're able to keep the flashbacks at bay when you have a task to focus on. I would tend to agree: your mental state has gone downhill rather fast since you've given Hawk the information he was seeking this morning. You'll be happy to know that I was asked to request some more information from you."

"Such as?"

"Let's see…"

He takes a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and opens it up. I expect him to take his sweet time doing it just to continue to irritate me, but he seems to have given up on this particular game now that I've already had the explosion he wanted.

"Insider Information on the following:" he reads. "Cobra Commander, Major Bludd, Destro, Baroness, Zartan, Tomax and Xamot, Mindbender, Venom…"

"He's dead," I interrupt. "Executed by a firing squad when the Commander suddenly got the impression he was plotting against him. Mindbender got the job of resident mad scientist in his stead."

"Yes, that's what we figured. There's more, and there is a list of vehicles and equipment, and he finally asks for what you know on general operations – fund raising, recruitment… that kind of thing. You're constantly recorded, so you can just speak the answers out loud. Do you need the actual list?"

I shake my head. I'm not sure why I didn't think of all that; even though some of what I know is out of date, it stands to reason GI Joe would still want me to share it.

The next ten days go by extremely slowly. I'm able to concentrate on giving out as much information on Cobra operatives, vehicles, weapons and operations as I can most of the time, but each time I run out of inspiration, my thoughts drift back towards every pointless crime I've committed and to the fact I have shamed myself and my family beyond repair.

My guards change regularly, but the changes don't make much difference: they all pretty much just ignore me anyway. I'm guessing they've been ordered not to mistreat me in any way since they usually refrain from so much as throwing me dirty looks, but they basically act as though my cell is empty.

There are exceptions, however: some of the higher ranked GI Joes – the ones who have codenames and personalized uniforms – fell quite within their rights to tell me exactly how they feel about me and what they think Hawk should do with me. Although they're never actually assigned as guards, I get such visitors once or twice a day.

Beach Head, for instance, stood in front of my cell for nearly two hours, reading me the list of Joes he figured I had personally killed and their obituary, going as far as describing the conversations he had with some of the next of kins following the soldiers' deaths, all of it in a slow southern drawl that eventually turned into screaming when he decided I wasn't reacting enough. I suspect my wall would have been covered with spit if his mouth hadn't been covered by his balaclava. He certainly demonstrated how solid it was by pounding on it with all his strength. The funny part is that he got angry because I was ignoring him, completely oblivious to the fact his little speech had simply made the flashbacks take over again, making me deaf to his presence until the sheer volume brought my mind back into the present. He was eventually ordered away and hasn't been back since.

He'd probably be spitting mad again if he found out that with all his screaming, he didn't make me feel nearly as bad as Wilkinson, or as he is known here, Stalker, did. My old sergeant didn't even have to yell or so much as get angry: he just stood there, calmly told me how disappointed he had been when he'd found out who I was, and asked me to explain why I did what I did. It's giving the explanation that was the worst part… the more I talked, the more it seemed like the last twelve years of my life were nothing but a series of incredibly bad decisions and poor excuses. I spent the rest of that day blabbering on about everything I knew of Cobra, repeating things I had already explained the previous days, not allowing myself to stop until I was ready to fall asleep.

Psyche Out also visits daily, much to my annoyance, and nothing I do seems to make him go away faster. Just to make things worse, I haven't seen my brother since I was put into this cell: from what I've heard, he's in Springfield with a small group of intelligence operatives, trying to gather whatever information, equipment or personnel that may have been left behind. I've also been unable to get any update on Billy's location or situation: most of the people I've asked don't even know who he is, and those who do don't know where he was sent and don't get status updates. I'd ask Hawk, but I haven't seen him either since I was brought here.

In the evening of the tenth day, Doc comes in, accompanied by ten heavily armed guards, to take out all my stitches.

The following morning, Hawk walks down towards my cell in the middle of my breakfast. I stop mid-bite and get up, too impatient to find out any news he might have to bother with the rest of my meal. I can't wait for a confirmation that the base is where I said it was, because once the Joes find it, they'll want to attack it and they have no reason to deprive themselves of an extra ninja. I'm literally aching to face Cobra, as much for sheer revenge as to make up for spending years assisting them in battle. Blood for blood. It won't get me my honour back, but it will certainly be a step in the right direction.

I go straight to the wall and filter out the noise coming from my guards to pick up the general's life signs and try and guess Hawk's mood. All I can tell, however, is that he's relatively calm. Even when he actually gets within my line of sight, he's unreadable right until he stops in front of me.

"I'm told you're inquiring about William," he says. "He's fine, you have my word on that."

I hold back a sigh of relief and nod. "Thank you. The base?"

He cracks a smile. "We found it. We never would have if not for you; the Commander has managed to make it invisible to just about every instrument. We ended up requisitioning an orbital telescope to take about a thousand X-Ray pictures of the continent, at various depths, and they finally revealed what would have looked like particularly dense patches of rocks if not for the fact they were shaped like rooms and corridors. We even planted an announcement in the media that NASA was doing some X-rays of the whole planet to test something, so that Cobra wouldn't realize we were scanning for them specifically in the event they detected the scans."

I smirk. "I'll be all too happy to help you dig him out of there," I say, not doubting for an instant that he's about to ask me just that.

He loses his smile. "I appreciate the offer, but I can't allow you to come along."

I frown. "Excuse me?"

His pulse accelerates. "I'm sorry. I know you'd love a chance to fight Cobra and face the Commander, but I honestly can't."

My own heart speeds up: he's serious. He actually intends to just leave me here while they go have a big showdown with Cobra. My fists clench.

"Why not?" I growl. "You know I'd be an asset! Is this revenge? Your way to make me pay for my years with Cobra? YOU CAN'T DO THIS! I…"

He cuts me off. "I don't have a choice. Bringing you along would be incredibly irresponsible on my part no matter which way I look at it. You could still be a double agent…"

"You can't seriously think that!" I snarl, doing my absolute best not to scream and throw a bona fide temper tantrum.

"I don't, no. But the stakes are too high here for me to go forward on a hunch. I have to play this one by the book or my career will be over and in all likelihood, so will GI Joe. The political ramifications of attacking Antarctica are INSANE... our records and our behaviour have to be squeaky clean, or we could lose anything we might gain by the attack and then some."

I'm so angry by now that I'm actually hyperventilating a bit and I can't think of anything more intelligent to say than a primal scream, so I content myself with glaring at Hawk.

"On top of the potential danger to the mission and the simple fact that I can't very well bring a civilian who also happens to be accused of several crimes to a major assault against his former employer, my whole medical staff is unified in telling me not to even think of letting you fight: Doc and Lifeline both feel it's too soon after your injuries and your surgery, and Psy…"

"WHAT? I don't even have stitches anymore!"

"Your lung will remain more likely to collapse than normal for another few weeks," he replies automatically, making it very obvious that he knew what I'd say and had the answer all ready. "That put aside, Psyche-Out also insists you should not be allowed to come."

"He just doesn't want to lose his subject!" I snarl, keeping myself from screaming again through sheer will power. "And I don't care how many people say I should stay here going crazy for my own good! I hereby waive all your responsibilities towards me. I'm volunteering, with the full knowledge that your medical staff thinks I shouldn't. I promise I won't hold you responsible if I'm killed."

"You don't currently have the capacity to make an informed and rational decision about this," he says, sounding once again like he's giving me a prepared answer.

My eyes widen briefly before they narrow to slits. Hawk's pulse creeps up again before settling back.

"That's a lie. I'm perfectly rational and you know it," I growl.

"You're suffering from hallucinatory flashbacks and have been witnessed on several occasions to stop reacting to real stimuli. You are also obsessed with vengeance and with reclaiming your honour, to the point that these two goals are the only reason you have any sense of self preservation at all at the moment. If I let you come along to this fight, you will push yourself and your luck until you get yourself killed. And…"

"I will NOT!" I protest.

…Which is perfectly true. I have no intention of dying before I've killed the Commander, Zartan, Scrap Iron and Mindbender, and before I even figure out how to reclaim my honour and restore that of my family's.

He waves off the objection before I even have a chance to elaborate.

"Psyche-Out is quite certain you will not take care of your own safety at all," he says. "And, whether your corpse blames me or not, the Law most certainly will, and I would blame myself. You're not coming, and that's final. As grateful as we are for all the information you've given us, you are still a prisoner, Storm Shadow. You don't get a say in this."

I glare at him, resisting the urge to boast that I'll just escape solely because that would only make it harder to do so. He turns to the guards, gestures them to follow and walks away with them, leaving me alone.

I blink at their backs. Did he just leave me unguarded? He turns back towards me after a few steps.

"The guards, to date, have been here for your protection," he informs me. "Now that you're a bit better able to defend yourself and that most of my forces are leaving, I have more urgent duties to assign them. Don't even think this will allow you to escape: this cell was designed with you in mind after your escape from Alcatraz, and Snake Eyes assisted in both the design and testing. I have his personal guarantee that you cannot escape."

I keep an impassive face and watch them all leave. So, Snake Eyes designed this cell… no wonder it's so secure. I haven't had any intention of escaping until now, partly because I really have nowhere better to go and partly because I was assuming - right up to the moment Hawk told me otherwise - that unless I misbehaved, GI Joe would jump at the chance of pitting two ninjas against Cobra instead of their usual one.

I still can't believe he's just leaving me here; I really thought he was smarter than that.

Just because I didn't think I would need an escape strategy, however, doesn't mean I didn't look for one – not doing so would have gone against my every instinct. I must commend Snake Eyes – the cell is very nearly perfect. On top of that, two of my escape plans won't work now that I don't have guards: playing possum for them to call the medics in and then taking said medics hostage requires someone to be there to see me play possum. Similarly, convincing my guards I'm about to escape before throwing the small concentrated smoke bomb in one of my hollow teeth, so that they'll come rushing in to stop me and thus let me slip out, requires guards to fool. Thankfully, my third plan works best with no guards around: the small diamond cutter in my other hollow tooth should be able to cut through the glass, unbreakable or not.

I pop it out, determined not to waste any time, and set to work.

Author's Notes

Just in case you're wondering, I'm not saying Antarctica is a nice practical place for Cobra's new fortress… I'm just saying the Commander would absolutely go for it and actually figure out a way to pull it off (because it's just totally him), with Destro rolling his eyes and banging his head on various surfaces (with musical results) the whole time.

I very honestly did not have time to write a bonus, so you're getting deleted scenes again… sorry. I've pulled a few short ones together and to make it more like a DVD, threw in a few notes on why I deleted them. It was either that or delay posting for another few days, and I was getting impatient.

Next chapter: Storm Shadow is attacking a wall, GI Joe attacks Cobra… tons of action. :D