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04-12-2020, 02:06 PM | #791 |
G.I.Joe medic
Join Date: Feb 2008
Location: Litchfield, ME
Posts: 3,171
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Great to have you back!
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04-14-2020, 10:51 PM | #792 |
Darth_Henning
Join Date: Jul 2008
Location: Canada
Posts: 21,174
|
Quote:
Damn! I forgot how much I missed this. 5 years is a long time. I'm trying to go back and read some old posts to refamiliarize myself with the timeline and cast of characters. Still these two stories are a great jumping off point. I can't wait for more!
Nitro's story is great and the level of detail and description is outstanding. You seem quite familiar with rock climbing or cave exploration. Still these new characters are really what makes your stories unique. And the Baroness story really sets the stage for everything. A nice sort of resetting of the storyline. Believe it not I've never even gone bouldering at a gym. So I'm glad that it seemed believable. I know that the new guys aren't the only thing you're all here for, but hopefully there will be at least a few favourites that people can find. As for the Baroness, she's a good continuation of the growth of Cobra. Its good to BE back! |
04-14-2020, 10:53 PM | #793 |
Darth_Henning
Join Date: Jul 2008
Location: Canada
Posts: 21,174
|
First new story of the week, also working on some revised versions.
Also, abandoned stories that never got finished (Istanbul, Hong Kong, Beneath the Himilayas) will also get finished up in the near future. But I want to get a bit more Rise of Cobra out of the way and start revision on some of the older stories. Speaking of Rise of Cobra: __________________________________________________ _________________ 2022/01/03 - Major Bludd Port Botany, Sydney, Australia One of the Vipers held up a red-gloved fist. Hold. Automatically, all ten men of the strike team pressed themselves against the stone walls of the warehouse, as one of the guards passed. Major Sebastian Bludd snorted derisively. What passed for a guard was a kid who wouldn’t have had his twentieth birthday in time for this coming summer, but somehow was being trusted with a gun and a dog to protect a major corporate operation. The dog had at least turned and sniffed in their general direction. The kid had only paused for a second, then continued to text on his phone as he pulled the dog along after him, continuing his routine walk. In a colder climate, the kid would have packed a single defined trail through the snow, his route was so predictable. When Bludd had served in the Australian Army, such incompetence would never have been tolerated. “Guard with no real plan Wandering around and round Beat him like a vole.” He chuckled to himself, please with his brilliance of coming up with something so good on the spot. He’d have to write that down later for when he self-published his fourth volume of poetry. But for now, he needed to concentrate on the task at hand. His organization had been hired by a corrupt Thai politician, and informed that a large shipment of iron ore would be passing through Sydney’s harbour this month. The politician hadn’t been interested in going after such a lowly prize and had thrown that in as a bonus for Bludd, but had been interested in a large amount of surplus munitions were also being quickly offloaded under cover of that shipment. The politician hadn’t known who from the Australian government had sold them, or where they were going, and didn’t care, he only wanted to make sure they ended up in his hands, and was willing to pay Bludd and the Vipers handsomely. , Bludd had been more than happy to take the job. The iron ore had value, and if a few of the weapons got ‘lost’ during the theft, it would be very helpful to outfit new recruits. The shipment was moving through the most unsuspecting of all shipping companies, a new player in the game going by ARBCO. It was an acronym for something stupid, Bludd couldn’t quite recall what at this point, but it didn’t matter. They were still a small time player in the region, and if this was their standard level of security, he’d have to make a point of getting someone inside the organization in order to monitor their shipments. Of course, once they started getting consistently ripped off, the gambit could only last so long before they either increased security, or ceased getting lucrative contracts, but in the meantime, it would allow him to expand the reach of the Vipers beyond the east coast across the continent. Perhaps theft wasn’t the only option, he paused to consider… “Legitimate man, What can you give me tonight? Why your truck of course.” “Sir?” queried one of the Vipers to his left. He glanced over, not realizing he’d spoken that one out loud. Well fine, let the man enjoy a little culture along with his combat training. Bludd waved dismissively, but the stroke of brilliance was twofold. ARBCO could serve two purposes.He could continue to purloin from ARBCO and the Vipers could BE the security brought on after ARBCO had had enough losses. Yes. Yes. That was his strength. Mold his group not just into a paramilitary organization, but one with one foot in legitimate business. It would make it all the easier to launder their money. The hairs of his moustache tickled his lip, making his grin widen even more. Perhaps the greatest crime that the government had committed had been to force him to shave off this thing of beauty. “Oh Colonel Balwick, You took away my moustache, I took away your life.” That evening remained one of Bludd’s fondest memories. Gorge Balwick’s body had never been found, unless it was by the dingos in the outback, and five years later it never would be. Even if it was, there was no way to trace it back to Bludd. Balwick had made the same crucial mistake that so many commanding officers did, he had forgotten what it was like to be in the ranks. A successful unit was not built by leading and directing men, it was built by inspiring them. It was why Bludd gifted each of his Vipers with volumes of his writings when they joined. Why he personally trained each officer under his command. And why, like tonight, he participated in as many missions as he could, part of the fighting unit so his men could see that he didn’t consider himself above them. Yes, he took the lion’s share of the money that their operations brought into the Vipers, but that was as it should be. His brilliance was the reason that the organization existed, and why they were so successful at getting the jobs in the first place, especially the lucrative ones. Not that he ignored them either of course, without his men he wouldn’t be able to pull off the increasingly complex operations that his organization was hired to pull off. So, he made sure that some percentage of every job was shared among the participating operatives, and some more went back into the organization itself. One day, with enough money, he would start specializing his men. Prepare them to move into every corner of the planet, and work in any environment. “World Domination, There’s only one way to go, Dominate the world.” He recalled when he had first written that as he formed the Vipers. It was still as true today as it had been then. But now they had to focus on the task at hand. One of his Vipers, he wasn’t really sure which, was working on the doors with a small acetylene torch around the hinger. Of course, other than Johnson whose exposed forearms exposed his ebony skin to pick him out from the others, the other’s all looked identical. Some of his men had tattoos which made them easier to recognize, but none of them happened to be on this mission. But no matter. He squeezed the empty socket of his left eye unconsciously. He did miss having both eyes. He had once worn a miniaturized HUD over his left eye, a smaller version of the one embedded in the visors of his Vipers. But then the incident in Egypt had happened, and ...well...it didn’t matter now. The lead Viper turned off the torch, and with the help of two of the others swung both massive metal doors in on the hinges of the intact door, opening the gap just wide enough for all of them to fill through one at a time. Bludd nodded with approval upon seeing that three of the first men through the door were sweeping the warehouse with their rifles for any guards or patrols. The other’s stood ready...except one, whose rifle was almost at Trial Arms. A stern look corrected it, but he made a mental note that the cuff of the man’s pants were also not properly tucked, and the vest was strapped just a bit too loose. It would make him easy to identify later, and have a long discussion with. “If you wear the gear, Respect your own second skin, Or risk the earned ire.” The three vipers who had opened the door slipped in one at a time, keeping the weight from the ground and slowly swinging it back closed. The Vipers each lowered the goggles from their helmets and pressed the suction cups to their faceplates. The goggles were designed to amplify low light conditions, or observe various parts of the non-visible spectrum. There were still some bugs being worked out with them, as they had not been standard issue on the suits when he had stolen the designs and prototypes from van Mark Industries. As far as he knew, the theft still hadn’t been discovered. The “accelerator suits” that originally sported the helmets had been deemed far too expensive by several governments, including the United States, in the early aughts and had languished on the shelves for over a decade before he liberated them for his own purposes. But the helmets had functioned extremely well without the bulky and cumbersome suits. If anything, not having to run the electronics for the entire suite of electronics in the rest of the suit had opened up a huge amount of processing power so each soldier’s head was essentially encased in a supercomputer. Paired with a simple bullet-proof vest and standard issue green military fatigues beneath, it made an effective symbol of a terrifying soldier. He gestured three men to either side of the pile of containers in front of them and led the remaining three through the gap in the middle. There was a remarkable amount of equipment stored in the dimly lit warehouse. He pulled a small monocle from his pocket. It held the same enhancing tech present in the Vipers’ goggles. The room turned the familiar shade of green as he raised it to his eye. The crate labels read everything from smoked meat, to sheep pelts, to computer imports, to biohazardous material. That last stack was intriguing, but he had no idea what a nanomite was, and didn’t have the time to find out...tonight. But he would make sure to learn more about it before his men came back. The team sent to his left must have radioed the other Vipers, as one tapped his arm and started leading him in that direction, as the Vipers from his right converged with them. He really had to get a radio installed in his new helmet, he reflected. His troops enclosed helmets allowed them to communicate silently at any time, but now left him cut off at times like this when stealth was critical. “Stealth missions suck ass, Give me a good old fire-fight, Blow some fools a-way.” He shook his head, forgetting the stanza almost as quickly as it came to mind. His men were forming up around a stack of containers, and confirming the shipping labels. But something here wasn’t right. The world seemed to slow, and ‘battle time’ came over him. Bludd had never known how else to describe it. He had first experienced it as a child playing an intense game of dodgeball in gym class. His mind worked at a different speed than the events around him, letting him see the different possibilities and pick the best one. Then, it had let him catch balls and throw them at the right people. In the field with the Australian Army, and then the French Foreign Legion it had let him lead successful campaigns across North Africa, and earn a rapid promotion to Major...at least until he’d been caught looting...for the third time. And now, it told him that the crates were in an open space, JUST wider than all the other’s that they had seen, and that the other crates in the warehouse were stacked so closely together because the space here had been cleared, and not stacked nearly as high. “Move out!” he shouted, just as the first barrage of enemy fire struck around them. Lights came on in the warehouse, and he reflexively tapped the side of his monocle to turn it off. Two shots got lucky, striking the same Viper. She went down without a sound, a red pool quickly forming beneath her. The others had pulled up their goggles as they raised their rifles to respond. An unknown enemy was spreading out on the catwalk at the upper edge of the warehouse on either side, and other soldiers were appearing from what had seemed to be sealed crates. They all wore a distinctive shade of blue, with something large and red on the chest, with black or red masks covering the lower halves of their faces. Two enemies on the far catwalk went down from a concentrated barrage from Johnson, but his accuracy drew the ire of the enemy combatants, and he was struck down by four converging streams of fire from different directions. The Viper who had neglected his rifle discipline, and uniform earlier made for Johnson. Foolish, Bludd thought. The man was clearly dead, and shortly after the undisciplined man suffered the same fate, a bullet lodging itself in his spine just beneath his helmet. The remaining Vipers followed Bludd as they hurried away from what had clearly been a trap. If...no when they made it out of this, Bludd swore to himself… “Cross me to kill me, You will soon find only regret, And then you will die. There were now essentially two groups who had them in a crossfire. Bludd’s Vipers were exposed in a killing trap and another woman went down. Bludd took out her killer, but they were distinctly outnumbered now, and that was when Bludd saw the real trap. The two groups of blue uniformed men and women shooting at them were forcing them into a tunnel between two angled shipping containers. The perfect pincer movement for a trap. What looked like cover would be anything but. At the far end there was doubtless another group waiting to act as a firing squad. They couldn’t go that way, Bludd decided instantly, pulling a grenade from the vest of the most recently fallen Viper, bullets whizzing over his head, always just a bit wide, almost as if he had a halo of protection. He rolled the grenade, activated by being pulled loose down into the funnel towards the kill squad he couldn’t see but knew was there. Rather than shelter from both fire teams, he and his Vipers would need to expose one flank and use double cover from the other and surprise the third group where they were hiding on the far side of the kill zone...or escape, he thought as another of his Vipers was struck in the hip, but stayed on his feet. He’d have to reward that tenacity later. “This way,” he commanded his men. They obeyed without hesitation as he charged around the containers to the side. They were exposed on this side of the containers, but faced fire from only one direction. Bludd tapped his monocle and it switched to an infrared view. Five of the opponents on this side were high on the catwalk ringing the building, the other six..four...he corrected himself as two of his men’s shots found their targets...were hidden behind other boxes and crates. His eye flicked back and forth for only a second before he dropped his Glock 19 back in its holster and drew his other sidearm. This one was a unique model, designed to fire one of the miniaturized explosive rockets he carried in the hardened backpack he wore. He quickly slammed one onto the rack, aimed, and fired towards the overhanging catwalk just to the right of the five men upon it. The rocket crossed the distance in the span of two seconds, just enough for Bludd to grab a fresh rocket from his backpack and re-load the launcher. . The explosion would have overwhelmed the standard night vision goggles he expected their opponents wore, but the Vipers were designed to detect an increase of that magnitude of any wavelength and slam a blackout shutter across the eyepiece for one second to prevent its wearer being blinded. It had been designed for flashbangs, but worked just as well for conventional explosives. It still took an additional quarter second to readjust once the shutter opened, but Bludd could still make out the aftermath of what had occurred. The catwalk had disintegrated at the sight of the blast, severing the main supports in that area. With five soldiers standing on the exposed end, and the shockwave, the catwalk had scythed down as a deadly pendulum, dumping the bodies of the men who had once stood on it, and crushing three of the remaining men on the ground. The other was scrambling for more cover. “This way!” Bludd cried, their path now clear. The remaining six Vipers hurried after him towards a side wall. Bludd’s second rocket took it out, and he never broke stride. The group he’d known was behind the funnel of cargo crates took shots at them as they ran past, taking another of his men out at the knees. The man screamed, but Bludd and the remaining Vipers didn’t have time to stop for him. A second later, they were outside, Bludd quickly scanned around this side of the warehouse, re-orienting himself. He had barely determined they were on the north side when a loud crack sounded in the night. The chest of the man closest to him fountained blood as he fell. Bludd recognized the report of a sniper rifle. Bludd himself preferred the SAKO TRG, but he was pretty sure he recognized the Blaser R93. He had heard plenty of them when he served with the French Foreign Legion. If he wasn’t mistaken, it was the 30 inch barrel. A second crack sounded, almost too fast for someone to have re-loaded the rifle, let alone aimed a second time, yet another Viper went down. Bludd tried to see where the shots were coming from, but the rifle’s power had spun both men around so the spray of blood drops didn’t clarify the situation. One of the Vipers made the mistake of running back towards the warehouse, and was promptly scythed down by a wall of fire coming from inside. Bludd and the last Viper made their way between crates. Another bullet from the sniper embedding itself just behind their backs. The Viper grabbed one of the grenades off his vest and tossed it through the hole in the side of the warehouse. Then repeated the process, lobbing it towards where he assumed the sniper must be hiding. The first detonation rocked the building, and Bludd assumed it must have hurt at least a few of their pursuers. The other likely hadn’t been thrown nearly far enough to injure the sniper, but the cloud of smoke and debris would mask their escape. Bludd took the lead, snaking his way through the crates, following the mental map he had formed before the operation, never taking a predictable pattern of turns. First leading them away from, and then back towards where the sniper had come from to escape the net. At one particularly wide intersection he paused. Too long. The whip crack of the sniper rifle sounded again, from a direction perpendicular to where the sniper had been before. The man beside him took the shot to the groin and went down screaming. Bludd took only a second to see the amount of blood draining, and put a shot through the man’s neck to end his misery. A headlong dash took him across the courtyard. Two sniper bullets pinged off crates, seemingly coming from different directions. Multiple snipers? It had to be. In front of him, a black shadow ran in front of him. Bludd’s Glock was in his hand and barked twice, the bullets bouncing and whining off the crates, missing the target. The shape darted over top of him now, jumping across the crates. Bludd ran. At every intersection, and every alley, it seemed like the phantom pursued him, always too fast, and just out of range. One clip emptied, then another, and then a third. Bludd slammed the fourth one home as the shadow darted across to his left again, three rows away. And then, for the first time in what felt like hours, but had only been a handful of minutes, silence and stillness. Bludd crept out from between the crates where he’d been standing. He’d been too busy fighting the shadows to track his movement, and he almost stumbled over the body of a fallen Viper. He’d been herded back to the side of the warehouse where he’d blown a hole. He looked around, trying to catch sight of either the man in black who was stalking him, or of the men in blue who had ambushed him inside. For almost twenty seconds, there was no movement. “Where are you!” screamed Bludd, his voice shaking with genuine fear for the first time since his last beating as a child. As he spun around he almost missed the figure stepping from the gap between the warehouse and closest row of shipping containers. Whirling back, Bludd tried to bring his Glock 19 to bear on the man, but he was too fast. The butt of the sniper rifle he was holding slammed square into Bludd’s wrist, knocking the gun free. Bludd had just enough time to note the man was dressed almost all black, from the helmet, to the shemagh covering the lower half of his face, to the military fatigues, gloves and boots he wore. In fact, the only colour other than the slit of skin around his eyes was the dark maroon outline of a snake’s head across the chest of his uniform. Then the butt of the sniper rifle, a Blaser R93, Bludd had been correct, slammed into Bludd’s skull and his eyes closed. Ghost stood over the prone form of the Major, waiting for him to move. Satisfied he was temporarily unconscious, he removed a syringe from his chest harness, fitted the needle, and plunged it, and its contents into Bludd’s neck. Ghost straitened. Soldiers dressed in nearly identical uniforms, but in a dark blue, filed orderly out of the warehouse, their rifles carried low, but ready. “Squad two, dispose of these corpses. Squad three, use their gear to infiltrate their base. Any who wish to join us bring along. Those who don’t need not tell others of our existence.” Squad one had been lost almost to a man when Bludd avoided his first trap, but it would be an acceptable rate of loss if the Commander obtained the Viper helmets for his legions of blueshirts. The Cobra blueshirts rushed to comply. The remaining five who materialized from between the crates, breathing hard after their collective chase of the major, wore black uniforms like their commander. His own hand picked men and women. “Get him up,” he directed two of them. “Welcome to Cobra Major,” Ghost whispered. His soldiers would all swear later that they heard a slight cackle. |
04-15-2020, 12:53 PM | #794 |
Darth_Henning
Join Date: Jul 2008
Location: Canada
Posts: 21,174
|
Also, we have today our first significantly revised entry from an earlier story.
Here's a question for readers, for the older stories which have been updated and edited, but haven't significantly changed, I'm just updating the linked version in the first post. For ones (like this) that have had major rewrites, would you prefer that I just link the updated version in a post, or actually post it like below? Not sure what the best approach is. The original version of 11/28/2031 - Scarlett still appears on page 10 of this thread should anyone want to compare. But this is the canon version going forward. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 11/28/2031 - Scarlett The Rock - Location Classified (Canadian-American Border) "Approaching our destination Lieutenant O'hara." "Can I take off this stupid blindfold yet?" she sighed exasperatedly. She wasn’t someone who loved or hated flying, she was just used to it she supposed, but the view was a heck of a lot nicer, wherever they might be, than the inside of a folded black cloth. "Sorry, procedure states that you've got to keep it on until you’re inside the base." the pilot responded. "If it makes you feel any better, you’re far from the first to be anxious to get it off." She’d been introduced to him only as her Lift Ticket, and his cock-sure grin matched his upbeat attitude. Sadly it was doing anything but lifting her spirits. Shana O'hara sighed, "I’m sure you’ll be shocked to know that it doesn’t. Who's crazy idea was this anyway?" "No idea. It came in after I was on the team." "So, that was...how long ago did you say?” She asked, feigning idle curiosity. "A valiant effort ma’am. 'Fraid I can't tell you that." "Figures. It was worth a shot. What can you tell me? Other than I’m not supposed to know where I am.” "Er...well, you’re in a helicopter that doesn't exist, In the way to a military base that definitely doesn't exist. To meet with a general who doesn't exist. To interview for a position on a United Nations military force that doesn't exist because the United Nations has no military. That help?" Shana allowed her head to hit the back of her seat. "No, not really." "Ah well. was worth a shot," Lift Ticket chuckled. She was completely sure he was having fun at her expense. And she did NOT like it. ----------------------------------------------------------- Lady Jaye watched the Tomahawk descend. She could see LT behind the stick and the new girl, she paused to check her tablet, Shana, sitting in the co-pilot’s seat, blindfolded. She shook her head at the regulations. Another silly rule introduced for no real reason. Hollingsworth seemed to enjoy putting them in place for the pure purpose of amusing himself before he retired. Just put them in the back, and black out the windows if you have to, she thought. Much more comfortable, but then again, this outfit did possess something of a flair for the dramatic. She ticked off her fingers, you’ve got your doc who wears red so the blood won’t show, you’re ninja dressed in all black, your standard testosterone fueled GIs, and a massive machine gunner who cooks gourmet meals and will. Not. Stop. Rhyming. Ok, if the rhymes were the costs of THAT food, it was a worthwhile tradeoff Lady Jaye conceded. The helicopter settled on the platform, and the overhead doors began to close. This helicopter bay was a new addition above the main aircraft hanger the floor below, and allowed potential recruits to come and go with comparatively minimal exposure to the rest of the base. The rock walls were still rough-hewn into the mountain, and had not yet been covered with a smoothed layer of concrete like the floors below, but it was a work in progress. As the rotor blades slowed to the speed of a gentle fan and the downwash dissipated, Lady Jaye stepped from the alcove near the door, and strode up to the fuselage to meet the new arrival. The door slid open, and Shana hoped out, clearly not her first time disembarking from a combat chopper. She was saying something over her shoulder to Lift Ticket, thanking him for the ride and the conversation. It sounded slightly caustic. LT was a fine choice to ferry the new arrivals in Jaye's opinion, one of the most sociable service members on the team, but still able to keep information to himself. Lady Jaye surreptitiously glanced at her tablet, O’Hara was Intelligence and… Jaye paused, she’d never seen a military specialty listed as classified before. That might explain the tension with Lift Ticket, this woman was used to having the answers, not being in the dark. Shana finally turned around. Jaye was a bit surprised, based on the file info she had been able to review - served in Manchuria, numerous classified missions, field promotion to officer’s ranks for valour for a classified mission, she’d expected someone...older...and with a less flawless complexion. That, of course, likely was what made her perfect for intelligence work. Even knowing who she was Lady Jaye would not have guessed it to look at her. "Good morning Lt. O'Hara. Welcome to the Rock. You can call me Lady Jaye, or LJ for short. I'll be your handler while you are on the base until your depart or are officially on the team." "Handler?" Shana asked with a cocked eyebrow, "Should I grab my leash and start barking then." Jaye fought down a smirk, stereotypical sassy redhead, "That won't be necessary. If you'll follow me please." She refused to put effort into getting to know Lt. O’Hara until she was on the team. Over the past few months, more and more were passing through these upper floors only to depart the same way they came in. Now that there was a decently sized staff in place, the Joes could run any number of smaller operations, so they could afford to interview a few more people for each position, and Lt. O’Hara wouldn't be the first one thrown out within the hour if it came to it. Shaking her head, Jaye had to admit she was surprised how the team had been assembled in 5 months since she'd been recruited. She’d found the position mostly because of her work undercover in Yemen where she had worked with a Hungarian agent Agota Laczi, who himself had served under General Colton during World War III. His recommendation had gotten her through the door and greased some wheels. It wasn’t clear what connection O’Hara had, recruitment was still word of mouth, and mostly on the recommendation of senior officer. Though Lady Jaye had started to notice that quite a few of the Joes seemed to have served in Manchuria, and while they went to great pains to not show it, many seemed to know one another. ----------------------------------------------------------- Shana O’Hara looked around her as Lady Jaye led her through the hallways. The place had clearly been carved and blasted out of solid rock and then finished off. Though the walls and floors farther from the helicopter bay were now indistinguishable from any windowless military complex built underground, nearer to the hanger she'd caught glances down new side hallways that were still carved out of stone with wiring and piping being laid into grooves. The base was clearly located underground, and the rock suggested somewhere rather rugged without significant dirt cover. The stranger thing was, looking at the concrete of the walls, it didn’t appear new, despite the ongoing construction, it was starting to wear, not due to heavy use, but just due to age. A repurposed facility? She started running through potential sites. Well THAT one was definitely out, she thought to herself, remembering the years she’d spent basing out of the strangest underground bunker on the planet in Manchuria. The flight hadn’t been long enough to leave western Canada, or perhaps some of the neighbouring states. But she wasn’t aware of anything that would fit this description here. The hanger had been close to the surface as the hanger had a retractable roof. Since they hadn't descended there must be next to no soil coverage in the area. He ears also had not popped on descent. Which suggested they remained at altitude. Somewhere in the Rocky Mountains then. Jaye was pointing out various features along the way, none of them particularly important, but something to prevent silence, an old tactic to keep someone’s mind occupied. Instead Shana focused on memorizing a way out. Better safe than sorry. Though these people may seem on the level, the degree of secrecy surrounding the operation might have bad consequences if it was decided she didn't belong, and a quick way out may suddenly become a necessity. Some of her old friends had talked about a similar interview process a few months ago, and she hadn’t been able to reach them since. Of course, that wasn’t unusual in a military life, but it still put her on edge more than she liked to admit. She’d seen what clandestine operations looked like from multiple angles, and wanted to be sure this one wasn’t the one that cost her her life. The hallway they'd been walking through suddenly opened up into a larger concourse, and Shana gasped in spite of herself. The balcony they were standing on circled the open chamber. An elevator bank sat on the far side, descending, Shana quickly counted, approximately 15 levels surrounding the shaft. Her mind raced as she put the pieces together, even as Jaye led her along the arching walkway. Much of the wall was still bare rock, the walkways neatly poured concrete, confirming that the whole shaft was underground. If the hanger was just under the surface, this meant that the whole facility had to be hollowed out of a mountain. She’d heard of old cold war bunkers in the Appalacians, and of course there was the Chyenne Complex, but even it was far from this scale. Lady Jaye was approaching the elevator bank, still droning on about the type of support beams used at the top of the central concourse. Shana wasn't listening, instead she was trying to calculate the exact flight time since she'd been picked up at the Edmonton International. The chopper of course had a limited range as it hadn't stopped to refuel at any point. They couldn’t be located quite as far north as Alaska, nor much farther south than Montana. There just hadn’t been enough time. Not that that narrowed it down as much as she had hoped. There were still probably several thousand mountains in that range. Blindfolded and in a chopper, her sense of direction had been shot to blazes, so she had no way of knowing whether they went North, South, or just flew around in really big circles for a while to throw her off. ----------------------------------------------------------- Out of the corner of her eye, Jaye watched Lt. O’Hara. She was a bright one, instead of being distracted by what she'd been telling her, she was inspecting the place. Few would have noticed except a fellow intelligence agent. O’Hara was nodding along at appropriate intervals, and acknowledging with assorted yes, uh-huhs, and oh really’s. Most people who were focused somewhere else got trapped using the same response repeatedly. O’Hara’s replies didn’t give her away, but the way her eyes were slowly circling did. Not the rapid flashing back and forth that gave away junior operatives, but a just slightly off center gaze which slowly slid back and forth at an imperceptible speed, taking in details with her peripheral vision rather than staring right at an item of interest. That was good, thought Jaye, her actions so far put her a distinct cut above the last half dozen that General Flagg had looked at for the position. Again she idly wondered what this woman had for experience, but between rank and redactions, the file that she had on the lieutenant was very sparse. Upon reaching the elevators, Jaye pressed the up signal and waited. The car arrived momentarily, bearing a single occupant. "Good morning Courage, how are you today?" "Hum?” he looked up from the old school file folder he was holding, “Oh, good morning Lady Jaye,” his voice had his usual clipped and formal tone, “Currently, I’m busy planning an operation to eliminate some targets in..." he trailed off seeing Lt. O’Hara. "Never-mind. Who is this?" "A newbie, about to be fed to the wolves." That got O’Hara’s eyes to flick back towards the conversation Jaye noted with some satisfaction. Courage smiled, "Well, welcome to you. Good luck with the Generals." With a wave, he departed heading towards the hanger. Jaye stepped into the car with Lt. O’Hara and hit the signal for the top floor. O’Hara leaned casually against the side, her eyes still probing out the cab’s glass windows. "May I offer a word of unsolicited advice Lieutenant." "Yes?" "I don’t know who you’re scheduled to meet with, but if you interview with General Austin, don't speak unless you’re spoken to, he’s very old-school. Hollingsworth will try and catch you off guard. G.I. Joe is probably the most normal of the bunch." “G.I. Joe?” O’Hara raised an eyebrow, “am I being interviewed by an action figure or something? Now with real kung-fu grip?” It was her first attempt at humour, and Jaye couldn’t quite repress a small snort. “Sorry, General Joseph Colton.” O’Hara’s eyes widened a little at the mention of the name. “In case you didn’t pick up on the way here, most of us, except for some of the old generals, have code names. We’ve taken to using them around the base.” “My old unit did as well,” O’Hara replied without further explanation, “so I understand.” Interesting, Lady Jaye thought to herself. She’d heard the same thing from someone else on base before, Grunt maybe? She’d have to look into that a little more. The car chime intoned "Command offices", and the doors opened into a foyer. Lady Jaye led the way out, and noticed O’Hara cock her head at the sight of the young woman behind the desk. Pink military fatigues and Beret were something that put everyone off guard. Jaye wasn’t entirely sure if their administrative officer wore them for that reason, or just because she liked pink. "O'Hara?" This came not from the desk, but from the command hallway. Lady Jaye came to full attention, as did O’Hara, but it was O’Hara who replied first, “Colo...General! Sir! I did not expect to see you here.” So that was the connection, Jaye thought. The hero of Beijing himself. Interesting. “Well, there are some of us expecting you. Jaye.” “Sir!” she returned the salute. “At ease,” General Hawk waved her down, “we don’t stand on ceremony here. I’ll take the Lieutenant back. You can have her back after Joe and I are done with her.” “Yes sir.” Jaye acknowledged, standing at parade rest beside the armchair set beside the elevator bay until the General and O’Hara were out of sight, then settling most informally into the plush cushions. “So,” she said, exchanging a conspiratorial look with the desk officer, “what do we think THAT’s all about?” ----------------------------------------------------------- The Rock - Sparring Room Lift Ticket settled himself onto the bleachers beside Stalker and Lifeline. "So, how was the pickup?" asked Stalker. "Well, on the downside, she’s definitely an intelligence asset, kept trying to pry stuff out of me. On the bright side, I had a hot red-head beside me for almost three hours. Been a long time since that happened." Stalker chuckled, "careful, you almost sounded like Flint there for a minute." "Hey, I'm not that much of a horndog. Life, you got any Coke left in that cooler?" Lifeline looked up from where he was fiddling with the popcorn machine, "probably. Have a look." "Thanks man." The machine started popping, and Lifeline resumed his seat. "A redhead, eh? Intelligence asset you said?" “Yeah, why do you ask?” Lift Ticket queried, popping the top on a can just as the bell went off for the next sparring match. Lifeline and Stalker exchanged an odd look. “Oh, no reason.” ----------------------------------------------------------- The Rock - Fiftieth Floor Lady Jaye stood up and stretched as Shana came back around the corner from her interview. The clock had ticked off a full two hours while she waited, and General Hawk had headed down earlier to the sparring ring. Jaye hoped she wasn't too late to catch at least part of the week's rounds. Shana was holding a file folder in her left hand. It was the contents of that folder that determined whether Jaye would get to see the sparring session, or have to spend the next hour throwing her out. "Well?" Shana handed her the folder, "looks like you’re stuck with me." Jaye saluted, now conscious that O’Hara had moved from candidate to superior officer. “At ease,” O’Hara replied, “Colton has explained we tend to a more relaxed atmosphere. I hadn’t realized you were intelligence. Seems we’ll be working together. Jaye smiled, "I had the edge there,” she waved the small tablet slightly. “Of course, we’ll get you settled into quarters and a full tour, but if you don’t mind, the weekly sparring match is going on downstairs, and it’s the closest thing to live entertainment we get around here. You can join me and get to know some other guys on the team, or I can drop you at the cafeteria for some ...grub.” Jay decided not to spoil the food just yet. "I'll join you, might as well get to know everyone." "Glad to hear it. So, what do we call you?" "Scarlett." "Very Gone with the Wind." Scarlett chuckled, "yeah, it’s what my family always called me when I was younger. I'm sure that's what they would have named me if I'd had hair when I was born." “I like it.” Jaye offered. “Trust me, I’ve had worse code names.” “You’ll have to tell me about that sometime ma’am.” ----------------------------------------------------------- The Rock - Sparring Room Jaye led Scarlett through the doors. Duke was facing off with Quick Kick in the ring. The first sergeant never gave up. Even though he was outmatched by Quick Kick’s years of training. She shook her head. On the first set of bleachers she spied Stalker, Lift Ticket and Hawk in conversation with Sharpe while Lifeline had his back turned poking around with the popcorn machine. Well, there were worse things for their surgeon to be addicted to she figured. "Afternoon boys. Who's in the infirmary?" Sharpe turned, "Afternoon Jaye. So far Lifeline's had a quiet afternoon. Who's your friend?" "Lieutenant O'Hara reporting fo...er...Scarlett sir. Sorry sir." “Welcome to the Team Scarlett,” Sharpe made an informal salute, “I assume you must be the one that Lift Ticket brought in earlier. This is General Hawk, and Stalker. The man with his face buried in a bucket of butter popcorn is Lifeline, who keeps telling ME to watch my cholesterol.” Jaye had reached over to grab a drink from the open cooler beside the bleacher, but was sure she saw Lifeline's back stiffen while Scarlett introduced herself. Stalker seemed to smile a little, "No worries Scarlett, if your military, it takes a while to break the habit and default to the code names, but don't worry, none of us bite." "Nice to meet you Stalker,” something in O’Hara’s voice conveyed that that wasn’t exactly true. “Good to see you again Lift Ticket." Now Jaye was quite certain Hawk was suppressing a smirk. And he was definitely glancing over at Lifeline. "And now, if our Chief Medical Officer would take a break from the snacks..." Sharpe hinted. Lifeline turned slowly, almost cautiously, "good to see you Lieutenant. How have yo-" A sharp crack could be heard over the sound of the sparing as Scarlett delivered a vicious slap to Lifeline's cheek about half a second after he turned to face her. Heads in the nearest seats looked on in shock. Lifeline shifted his jaw left, then right, checking to see if it was mobile, then turned back. "Yeah, I probably deserved tha-" A backhand this time. Other cheek. Scarlett stormed off to the other side of the gymnasium. Lifeline didn't move until she was well out of earshot, then rolled his neck. "Still holds a grudge I see." "What gave it away?" Hawk replied feigning shock, "but be honest here, you can't really blame her for being mad." "You’re just thankful she never blamed YOU." "Damn straight ol’ buddy,” Hawk grinned at Lifeline. Jaye was thoroughly confused, she was well familiar that Hawk and Lifeline had grown up together, but didn’t know much more than that, "you guys know her?" "Yeeeah," answered Hawk, clearly thinking of how to respond. Lifeline and Stalker seemed to exchange glances. Hawk continued, “We...uh...we went to high school together. All three of us." "What exactly happened?" asked Stalker. Jaye wasn’t a fool, the three of them all knew her, and given that Hawk and Lifeline were several years senior to Stalker and Scarlett, they definitely had not been in school together. "Well you see," Lifeline said, taking up the story, "back when we were in high school together, I sort of rigged it so she and her boyfriend at the time appeared on stage during prom." As much as Jaye saw through the ruse, it appeared Sharpe was buying into it, possibly since he was watching Duke get shoulder thrown in the ring and not paying as close attention., "What's so bad about that?" "Well...they were under the impression that the bed they were using was in a private hotel room." Jaye took a second to follow the logic, “you’re really sick, you know that right?" Even if the story was made up, it wasn’t where she’d expect Lifeline’s thoughts to go first. "No, sick would be uploading the video as the new screen-saver to all the Rock's computers,” Lifeline pointed a finger in what was intended as a humorous gesture, but just made Jaye uncomfortable. Hawk leaned over and stage whispered, "you still have that?" "I don’t know if you’re allowed to ask him that sir," Stalker said, getting in on the act. "I think the man did," said Sharpe. "Now here's my question: did the carpets match the drapes?" "Couldn't tell," replied Lifeline, taking a seat on the bleachers, "all hardwood." Hawk smirked, "So was half the audience if I remember correctly." Jaye shook her head. "Your pigs. All of you." And liars, she added mentally. But perhaps whatever disagreement there was between Scarlett and Lifeline was her opening for a conversation to learn a little more about what was going on. Lifeline watched her go. "What are you thinking?" asked Hawk. "I almost don’t think she believed us.” The two exchanged a concerned look, “Hey Mainframe," Lifeline called to the next bleacher, "I've got a little job for you." Code Name: Scarlett File Name: Shana O'hara Birthplace: Grand Prairie, Alberta Rank: O2 Primary Military Specialty: Intelligence Secondary Military Specialty: CLASSIFIED |
04-15-2020, 10:44 PM | #795 |
W.O.R.M.S. Commander
Join Date: Nov 2007
Location: Back in the US of A! (NoVA)
Posts: 10,649
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I'm not sure what is better, but maybe just a link to the rewrite? It is not too significant of a change is it? Flint is the horndog now instead of Shippy? Austin has the temper instead of Colton?
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Improvise, Adapt, and Overcome. |
04-16-2020, 12:20 AM | #796 |
Darth_Henning
Join Date: Jul 2008
Location: Canada
Posts: 21,174
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Quote:
Maybe a link is better though. Also, made a minor tweak to Bludd above and in main list, since I realized I messed up numbers at one point. |
04-16-2020, 08:41 PM | #797 |
Darth_Henning
Join Date: Jul 2008
Location: Canada
Posts: 21,174
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Just a small (non-written) update today:
First post's intro blurb has been slightly updated, and now includes a new Banner!! (For those too lazy to go back to page 1, here it is) You'll see a modified version in my signature as well. For those who may want a look at just the team logos for this version of G.I. Joe and Cobra, they're here: (Given this was all done in Paint, I'm pretty proud of myself)
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Last edited by Lifeline_MD; 04-16-2020 at 08:47 PM.. |
04-17-2020, 12:26 AM | #798 |
G.I.Joe medic
Join Date: Feb 2008
Location: Litchfield, ME
Posts: 3,171
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I just realized the desk officer in the Scarlett story is Chari! Nice touch!!
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04-17-2020, 11:27 AM | #799 |
Darth_Henning
Join Date: Jul 2008
Location: Canada
Posts: 21,174
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Thanks. The original version just had an unremarkable greenshirt. At some point when I started adding original characters a variety of tankers got slipped in to various stories, including Chari in that role, so it was a fitting revision.
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