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12-14-2017, 04:13 PM | #61 |
Crimson Guard
Join Date: Jun 2014
Location: Val Verde
Posts: 2,345
|
No Hannibal, but OL is incoming, and very soon!
__________________
Needs : AOCI Lamprey Vests, (or similar), ROC Flash helmets, ROC Shipwreck flippers, 25th Dusty Torsos (or similar), BBTS Bull (Taurus) head, Snake Eyes V.52 forearms. |
01-06-2018, 03:14 PM | #62 |
Crimson Guard
Join Date: Jun 2014
Location: Val Verde
Posts: 2,345
|
CHAPTER FIVE
April 24, 1983 Caesar’s Palace Colosseum, Las Vegas, Nevada Two fighters’ limbs were entangled as they swayed listlessly. It might have mistaken for an affectionate embrace, save for the occasional attempt at a rib punch that each man made. “Nine rounds!” The announcer exclaimed breathlessly. “Nobody expected this! Most people expected this contest to last less than two rounds before reigning Heavyweight Champion Mike Bison defeated challenger Rosendo Gamboa. But Gamboa has ditched his usual hyper-agressive style in favor of a more measured effort to use his superior speed and reach to wear down heavy-hitter Bison, and it appears to be working tonight!” “Well, both Bison AND Gamboa are looking really wobbly.” The other announcer added. “Exhaustion is starting to take its toll, but it’s still anyone’s fight at this point!” The referee pried the two boxers apart. Bison, left eye swollen almost completely shut, stumbled back a step. Then, with lightning speed, he lurched forward, putting his entire momentum into one of his powerful trademark uppercuts. Gamboa swayed back at the last possible moment, letting the devastating blow sail just inches past his battered nose. The Colosseum’s entire five thousand strong audience gasped in unison. At the point of Bison’s maximum extension, Big Boa swung a wild right haymaker. The blow connected with full force to Bison’s left temple, knocking out his mouth guard, the carry through momentum spinning Gamboa almost a full 180 degrees. Mike Bison dropped to the mat. He dragged himself to his knees and began to grope blindly for his mouth guard for a few seconds, then collapsed into unconsciousness. The crowd erupted as the referee dragged Gamboa’s hand into the air. Church of Infinite Love International Headquarters, Los Angeles, California “Holy shit!” Harry Ross screamed at the television. “He actually did it!” “You have surprisingly little faith for a religious figure, Harry.” Serpentor said with a chuckle. Harry took a pull from his Budweiser. “Goddamnit. I should have put money on that fight! 52-1 against our boy!” He yelled. On the screen, people swarmed the ring around Gamboa. He swayed woozily as an HBO microphone was thrust in his face. “How did you do it? So many people thought this was an impossibility!” The man asked Gamboa. “I jus’ wanted it, man. And I put my faith in the Father and in COIL.” Serpentor sipped at his own beer. “That right there, Harry, is worth more than all the money in the world.” April 26, 1983, outside San Jacinto, California Lamar Battles had grown used to the routine at Base Green. The COIL Royal Guard compound, a former resort which straddled Gilman Springs road in the dry, scrubby hills of Riverside County, ran like clockwork. Up at 4:30 for a three mile run, then PT and weapons training. Devotionals, meditation and yoga in the golden pyramid that dominated the facilty’s northern end. Fieldcraft and intelligence training. Then an intense two hour Pschometry session and another three mile run before lights out. There had been no deviation in that routine in the six months since he’d signed over his Nana’s house to get her a place in one of the new retirement towers COIL had built in his neighborhood and joined up. Today had been different. After morning PT, he and eleven other guards had been called to the compound’s cafeteria and been fed the best breakfast he’d had since he’d been here (and the food was already usually excellent), and then told to report to the pyramid. "Ive got no promise that I'll grow old, But my name will live forever with the green and gold!" The marching cadence of the other guards echoed through the compound as they made their way to the pyramid. Once inside, he found a semicircle of twelve folding chairs and a large folding table set up in front of the pryamid’s main altar. On the other side of the table stood, in their green and gold uniforms, the the three top officers in the Guard: The monocled Mikhail Derenkho, Overlord of COIL’S Royal Guard. Rumor was that he had been a Colonel in the KGB’s Spetzgruppa V before he defected to the west; Robert Skelton, the Guard’s chief of operations, his PT and combat training was so intense that the whispered joke among the recruits was that if Derenkho was the Overlord, then Skelton was Overkill; and Naja Bhoot, the Guard’s Faith Leader, whose spiritual program was as cruel as Skelton’s physical one. Once Lamar and the other guards were seated, Derenkho stepped forward to speak. “You men are best, in skill and in faith that the Guard has to offer. Which is why you have been selected, by the Father’s Vessel on Earth, Stephen Minasian himself, to take part in a very special assignment.” He said, his Russian accent strong, but clear. “This will be a long term, deep cover assignment....” May 1, 1983, Manhattan, New York City How far he has come, the Master observed. The Student sat in a cross legged pose of deep meditation on the mat in the center of the makeshift dojo. When the Master found him, three years ago now, the Student had been young, homeless, alone and unskilled, but filled with a raging lust for vengeance. Purpose, but without plan. He'd sought at first to merely use the Student as an instrument, to direct that rage against their mutual enemies in furtherance of the Master's own goals. But the Student had surprised him. He endured the challenges and privations of his training, gained a focus and clarity of purpose that rivaled the Master's own. The fire of revenge and the anvil of discipline had tempered the Student into steel. The Student had proven himself worthy of respect, and had thus become a partner rather than a tool. He'd come to care for the Student deeply, the Master realized, and at this moment where their purposes converged, great care would need to be taken. "This will be the first real test of your skill. Our risk of exposure here will be very real." The Master said. "Are you equal to this challenge?" "Yes, Sensei." The Student answered. "And you understand the consequence of failure? Our enemy will show no mercy if we are discovered." The Master asked. "Yes, Sensei." "Good. This task is a small one, but an avalanche begins with a single pebble. Our vengeance is close at hand." The Master said. The Student rose to his feet and bowed deeply. "I won't fail you, Sensei." The he replied. "I know you won't, Billy." The Master said.
__________________
Needs : AOCI Lamprey Vests, (or similar), ROC Flash helmets, ROC Shipwreck flippers, 25th Dusty Torsos (or similar), BBTS Bull (Taurus) head, Snake Eyes V.52 forearms. |
01-07-2018, 01:28 PM | #63 |
Crimson Guard
Join Date: Jun 2014
Location: Val Verde
Posts: 2,345
|
CHAPTER SIX
May 4, 1983, Springfield, Indiana Baroness Anastasia C*sařovna DeCobray leaned against the kitchen counter of her Springfield residence. She stared at the man sitting at the table, waiting for him to process what he’d just been told. “Right then..I honestly thought that was just a bunch of rubbish.. soldier talk and not much more.” Sebastian Bludd finally answered. “So this Serpentor was real, faked ‘is own death, and is now running some barmy cult in bloody Hollywood? Even if it’s true, luv, ‘ow exactly does that ‘elp us?” “Being the leader of COBRA was supposed to be Serpentor’s birthright. It’s what he was created for No matter how successful he’s become, I’m willing to bet he still feels so. We’ll approach him, tell him we know what happened and that we want the rightful leader of COBRA to lead us. We’ll get him to kill the Commander for us.” The Baroness said. Bludd slammed his palm down on the kitchen table. “What does that get us? The plan was to get your metal-faced man into the top slot, not to substitute one bloody psycho for another!” The Baroness laughed. “That’s when we endear ourself to the COBRA ranks by eliminating the assassin. Anyone else we find inconvenient will also be found to be part of the conspiracy, of course, starting with Mindbender.” She took down a coffee cup from the cabinet, carried it over to the machine, and began to pour. She had definitely adopted the custom of morning coffee. “We’ll need proof, though. Both to satisfy me that this Minasian is the real thing, and to prove to him that we know who he is. Which is why we’re going to the archives tonight.” “Righty. But what if we go to this bloke and he ain’t interested? We’ve exposed ourselves then, ‘aven’t we? Or what if he decides to do it ‘imself without us?” Bludd asked. “He’d need somebody on the inside for that. And if not us, who?” She said. “Sorry, Sebastian, I don’t think it’s likely.” May 4, 1983, ARBCO Manufacturing Inc, Springfield, Indiana Lamar Battles sat in the office lobby, waiting to be called. No. That wasn’t right. He couldn’t think of himself as Lamar Battles, former part-time warehouse worker from Compton, California anymore. He was now Lamar Lee, recently laid off factory worker from Detroit. He had a stack of phony credentials to prove it. Sounds from the factory floor filtered into the waiting room, along with the smells of lubricants and hot metal. The Time magazine he thumbed through was two years old. The office door opened and the previous applicant filed out. “Mr. Lee!” The secretary called. “Mr. Burke will see you now!” Lamar closed the Time, straightened his tie, and went in. Mr. Burke’s office was done in cheap wood paneling and smelled no better than the lobby had. The factory noise was actually probably worse, in fact. “Have a seat, Lamar.” Burke said, gesturing towards the chair. Burke was balding with a thick mustache and prescription aviators. His yellow shirt and brown tie were threadbare and stained with grease and mustard. They exchanged pleasantries and discussed Lamar’s skills and work history. “What made you decide to try ARBCO?” Burke asked. Here it was, he thought, remembering the specific coaching he’d been given. “Well, to be honest, Mr. Burke.. desperation. Factories closing all over, and Springfield is opening new ones. I figured y’all must be doing something right.” He answered. “Why did you think you got laid off from your previous job?” “Well, there’s been a downturn in...” Lamar stopped himself mid answer. “Naw, to hell with all that. I’m gonna give you the real answer. I got laid off because a bunch of rich assholes decided they could make a few extra dollars by moving manufacturing overseas, and paid off a bunch of asshole politicians and my so-called union reps to let them. Sorry about the language, sir, but that’s the truth.” “Don’t be, Lamar. I appreciate candor, and that’s not far from the truth.” Burke said. “We have a certain corporate culture here at ARBCO..” “Let me stop you there, Mr. Burke. This is the part where you explain your ‘culture’ as a bunch of shit like they do over in Japan, right? If you want me to do jumping jacks in the morning or sing the corporate fucking song, I’ll do it, but I came here to do one thing: work. If you’re gonna let me do that, I’ll do whatever you say.” Burke gave a wide smile. “I think you’ll fit right in here, Lamar”. May 5, 1983, Springfield, Indiana Billy pulled up the hood on his sweatshirt and prepared to cross Main Street. Making his way stealthily through town had actually been fun. And easy, even if Springfield had more police patrols than any place he’d ever seen. Of course, thanks to his master Storm Shadow, he knew the truth: maybe a fifth of the cops were actually on the books as officers of the Springfield Police Department, and all were COBRA troopers. Once he was sure he was unobserved, he sprinted across and deposited himself in the bushes on the side of the Public Library. A quick pass with his tools had unlocked the bottom floor window. He pushed the window open and swiftly and silently hauled himself though. The library was closed, of course, it now being just past midnight, and dark. Billy trotted down through the stacks to the wall shelves that held the gardening books. Billy grabbed the third shelf from the bottom with both hands and pulled up. He heard a satisfying click and pushed the bookcase into the wall and slid it over, revealing a hidden stair behind. He headed down into COBRA’s main records archive. “There is so much here!” Billy whispered to himself. The room was vast, row upon row of metal filing cabinets. The majority of COBRA’s day to day operations were done by computer, but almost everything was backed up to hard copy and filed here. Everything he could ever need to expose COBRA was here... financial records, personnel files, orders and invoices detailing the flow of components into and finished weapons out of the country. But his Master had tasked him with retrieving specific information, anything dealing with COBRA activity in Japan in 1975, specifically records pertaining to a rented helicopter he had been given a registry number for and any mention at all of a Tetsurō Arashikage, also know as the Hard Master. Billy powered on the computer terminal at the archivist’s station. He’d need it to even begin to know where to search. It cracked and clattered to life, and tape reels began to whir and spin. The noise was almost deafening in the stillness of the archive, and Billy squinted as his eyes adjusted to the brightness of the computer’s monitor screen. He realized his mistake a second too late. “What’s all this, then?” A voice said from behind him. Billy spun around, training taking over. Two people, a man on the right and a woman on the left. He lashed out with a heel kick to the woman’s right thigh, dropping her to the floor with a sharp yelp. He started to sprint, hoping to bowl over the man and make his escape. The man’s right arm shot however, grabbing him by the front of his sweatshirt and hauling him over. Billy threw up his left arm, blocking a right from the man and then drove his elbow down, full force onto the arm that held his shirt. The blow should have shattered the man’s forearm. Instead, Billy felt intense pain as his elbow connected with something far harder than bone. His training took over again as his mind pushed away the sensation. Was this guy wearing some sort of arm armor? His question was answered by the faint whine of the arm’s servomotors, and Billy found himself launched into the air. He hit a bank of metal filing cabinets on the far side of the aisle, hard. When he managed to clear his head from the impact, he found himself staring down the barrels of two leveled pistols. He wasn’t going anywhere now. “Who are you, and what the hell are you doing down here?” The woman demanded in some sort of European accent. She had long black hair and glasses, and had him covered with a PPK. The man, bald and mustached, with an eyepatch, glanced at the woman, but his Browning Hi-Power didn’t move. Billy thought for a split second. If they didn’t know who he was, then they didn’t know he was working with Storm Shadow. “I’m down here looking for the shipping records I need to expose COBRA and destroy it.” He said. He wasn’t going to mention anything that would lead back to his Master. “And why do you want to do that, kid? How do you know about COBRA?” The woman asked, thrusting her pistol forward to indicate what would happen if he didn’t answer to her satisfaction. “Because I had a dad, a family, until he joined this stupid organization! He left me and mom on our own!” Billy shouted, real tears beginning to well in his eyes. “And if COBRA is gone, maybe I can get him back. And if he doesn’t, then at least I’ll have burned the thing he loved more than his family to the fucking ground!” Sometimes the truth is the best lie, Billy thought. I’m toast, but it will keep them away from Storm Shadow. He still has a chance to pull this off. The woman, for her part, seemed genuinely taken aback. “Boo-hoo.” The man said mockingly. “Are we going to do this brat or what? We’re going to get caught ourselves if we’re down ‘ere much longer.” “Caught?” Billy wondered out loud. “You mean you two aren’t guards? Who are you?” “We are members of the Anti-Cobra Underground.” The woman said. “And we’re here for the same thing!” “What the hell are..” the man began. “Shut up, Sebastian!” She yelled. “The plan is dead. I’ve just come up with a better one!”
__________________
Needs : AOCI Lamprey Vests, (or similar), ROC Flash helmets, ROC Shipwreck flippers, 25th Dusty Torsos (or similar), BBTS Bull (Taurus) head, Snake Eyes V.52 forearms. Last edited by DerStahlhelm; 01-07-2018 at 02:35 PM.. |
01-07-2018, 08:07 PM | #64 |
Crimson Guard
Join Date: Jun 2014
Location: baldwinsville new york
Posts: 1,782
|
Finally...lol...ill update soon as i read all of it...whos EXCITED !!!!
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01-08-2018, 03:26 PM | #65 |
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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Yes. The Rise is Back!
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Improvise, Adapt, and Overcome. |
06-21-2018, 05:04 PM | #66 |
Crimson Guard
Join Date: Jun 2014
Location: Val Verde
Posts: 2,345
|
May 6th, 1983, Springfield, Indiana
A short car ride later, Billy found himself sitting in what seemed to be the woman’s kitchen. The man, whose name was evidently Sebastian, sat across the table from the boy, glaring. His hand rested on the Hi Power that lay on the table. The woman, Anna, he’d gathered, returned to the table and set a mug of hot cocoa in front of him. “Tell me your story, Billy....”, She began, a very pregnant pause hanging in the air. “Kessler, Billy Kessler.” He answered. “Like I told you... my dad left me and Mom for COBRA. I haven’t seen him in six years. I know he won’t leave on his own, but I thought if maybe I could expose this place, the government would shut the whole thing down and he’d have to come back.” The bald man snorted, and the woman gave him a stern glance. “But how did you know to come here, Billy? And where’s your mom?” She asked. “Dad took me out here once, when I was ten. We drove all the way from California. He wouldn’t stop talking the whole trip about this place and how great it was. After we got here he got in a big fight with Mom over the phone and he put me on a bus to go back.” Billy said. “Mom doesn’t know I’m here. She doesn’t know where I am, because I ran away.” “You’re on your own?” The woman asked. Billy knew he was vulnerable here. The truth was he’d been living and training in Storm Shadow’s place in Manhattan for almost three years. They wouldn’t believe he’d been on his own that long. “I took the bus part of the way here and hitched the rest. I’ve been camping in the woods outside of town for a couple of weeks.” That was a lie, of course, but he figured he had a good chance of losing these two in the woods if they want to check it out. “How ‘ave you been eating kid?” The man asked. “And where’d you learn that fancy move you pulled in the library?” “I used to do a lot of camping and fishing. We had to get pretty good taking care of ourselves after dad left. And that elbow strike? Mom signed me up for Karate lessons, but I had to quit when she lost her job again. I made it all the way to orange belt!” Billy took a sip of his hot chocolate. The fact that he wasn’t dead or in a dungeon somewhere told him that these people weren’t eager to have people know they were poking around in the archive in the middle of the night. He needed to know just what he was dealing with here. “What about you guys? You said you were part of some sort of underground?” Billy asked. “We are a lot like your father.” The woman said, gesturing to include the bald man. “We joined COBRA years ago, because we wanted to help people and make a better world. But the man running COBRA now, Cobra Commander, has taken this organisation down the wrong path. We were never supposed to be trying to make money, or hurting innocent people, or destroying families like yours, Billy. That’s not what COBRA was supposed to be about. The Commander is too well protected for us to take on directly, so we have to find a way to get to him. That’s what we were doing down there tonight.” Billy thought about her words. He wasn’t going to trust these people, not yet, but having some allies might be a big help to he and Storm Shadow’s mission, and if he escaped it’s not like it would be safe to go back to the library now anyway. Let’s see how this plays out, he thought to himself. “It’s late, Billy. Will you stay with me tonight? I have a guest bedroom. We can talk more in the morning.” He was getting tired, he thought, and what the hell, if they were going to kill him or turn him in they would have done it by now. “Yeah, that sounds good, lady.” He said. “I haven’t slept in a real bed in forever.” The woman flashed a smile. “Follow me, then.” She said. Billy followed the woman up the stairs. He made a mental note of which stairs creaked as they went. Better to be prepared if he decided to sneak out later. “Where’s the bathroom, ma’am?” He asked. “In case I need to go in the night.” “Please,” The woman said, opening the door to the guest room. “Call me Ana. It’s the very next door down.” He thanked her as she closed the door behind him. The room was unremarkable with a twin bed, small dresser, and a writing desk. Billy listened after her, following her noises as she made her way down the hall. One he was satisfied she was downstairs, he quickly grabbed the chair from the writing desk and jammed it under the doorknob. It wouldn’t hold for long, especially against the man’s bionic arm, but it would buy him precious seconds if anyone tried to force their way in. He then checked the window. It was unlocked, and both the pane and the screen moved freely, he was pleased to discover. He wasn’t trapped here, then. He pulled up his pant leg and pulled his knife from his sock. The whole thing was about six inches long and the blade seemed almost paper thin. The rough search he’d received at the library had missed it. He placed it under the pillow where it would be instantly accessible. Billy sat down on the bed, cross legged, and began to center himself. The Baroness put her finger to her lips as she entered the kitchen. Bluff nodded in acknowledgement and she nodded to indicate for him to follow her into the living room. She didn’t spend a lot of time at her Springfield residence, but the Baroness had a decent sized collection of LPs here. She pulled her copy of Albert Ayler’s “Ghosts” from the cabinet, placed it on the turntable and dropped the needle. As the music began to play she stepped very close to Major Bludd and began to speak softly. “This is perfect!” She whispered. Bludd gave her an incredulous look. “Why, because you’ve always wanted kids? How does this brat help us?” He asked mockingly. “He’s our assassin, Bludd!” She shouted in a stage whisper. “That kid? You’re out of your bleedin’ mind!” The Baroness hissed in exasperation. Was Bludd so lacking in imagination that she’d have to spoon feed him every idea? “The COBRA Founding Day rally is this Saturday in the High School gym, Sebastian. That’s two days from now. The place will be swarming with people, and right there in the front row: a hundred or more uniformed COBRA Youth. When the Commander comes down to press the flesh and accept all the unquestioning adulation that his genius deserves” She said, heaping the words with sarcastic scorn, “Our new friend Billy will fill him full of bullets.” Bludd visibly turned the idea over in his mind. “And when they grab ‘im, luv, and he tells ‘em we’s the ones what put ‘im up to it, we’ll be up against the wall and shot. If we’re lucky.” The Baroness laughed. “I’ll be in my place, right there next to the Commander, and in my rage, I’ll cut down the assassin just as he pumps his last round into our dear leader.” She said. “It’s hard to divulge a conspiracy when you’re dead. Here’s what I need from you....” Billy tried again, but he just couldn’t hear through the skronking discord of whatever the hell sort of music they were listening to downstairs. His master had trained him to use “The Ear That Sees”, an Arashikage technique of total sound awareness. He was not even close to the skill of master, but he doubted that even Storm Shadow would have been able to make out much through that cacophonous din. Billy resigned himself to not being able to listen in and laid down on top of the covers. Sleep would be light at best, but he needed to get some, as he’d no idea what the next day would bring. His fingers curled around the hilt of his knife as his head hit the pillow. His new friends didn’t trust him either, Billy thought. Good.
__________________
Needs : AOCI Lamprey Vests, (or similar), ROC Flash helmets, ROC Shipwreck flippers, 25th Dusty Torsos (or similar), BBTS Bull (Taurus) head, Snake Eyes V.52 forearms. Last edited by DerStahlhelm; 08-30-2018 at 06:39 PM.. |
08-30-2018, 06:40 PM | #67 |
Crimson Guard
Join Date: Jun 2014
Location: Val Verde
Posts: 2,345
|
May 6th, 1983, Springfield, Indiana
It seemed that no sooner than Billy’s head had hit the pillow he was awakened by a soft knocking at the bedroom’s door. The boy swiftly gathered his wits as he fought through his sleep. He glanced at the clock radio on the nightstand beside him just in time to see the numbers flip from 7:59 to 8:00. He was surprised he’d fallen asleep at all, given the precariousness of his situation, much less slept for almost four whole hours. The knock at the door came again, followed by a voice. “Billy?” The female voice called softly through the door. “Uh... Just a minute,” he replied with feigned drowsiness, “Let me put my pants back on.” Billy hadn’t so much as loosened his shoe laces before he’d gone to sleep, of course, but this had given him the few seconds he needed to retrieve his knife from under the pillow and silently return the chair he’d jammed under the doorknob to the desk. He opened the door a crack and peered out. The woman, Anna, was on the other side, and the scent of brewing coffee wafted through the door as she spoke. “Billy, I’ve made breakfast, if you’d like some.” The woman said. “Uh, yeah, sure.” He replied with the same boyish unease he’d affected for his pseudo-captors benefit last night. Not that he was totally relaxed about his current predicament, of course, but he wanted to keep them underestimating him until he decided what he was going to do. “Good,” said the woman with a smile. “Come down when you’re ready. We can continue our talk from last night while we eat.” Well, he was hungry, Billy decided, so after a minute he ventured down stairs. The house was a typical suburban Garrison type house, and the stairs deposited him in a sitting room at the front of the house. The decor was minimal, and the art displayed was modern, he noticed. It all seemed very European to Billy, and he imagined probably nothing like the inside of most of the decidedly working class homes in Springfield. The door in the sitting room lead to the combination kitchen/dining room he had been subtly interrogated in the night before. A short hallway lead off to left, and he glimpsed the entertainment center that must have held the stereo he heard last night. “Good morning, Billy!” The woman said, motioning to the dining room table. “Please, sit down” Billy did as instructed, and as he sat Anna placed a plate with a croissant, fresh strawberries, and cheese in front of him. The woman removed the cover from a butter dish and poured orange juice into the glass that was set in front of him. “I’ve made coffee as well, if you’d prefer.” She said, smiling. “Orange juice is fine” Billy said and began buttering his croissant. Not a half bad breakfast, he thought. But Billy had spent the last three years living in Storm Shadow’s secret water tower apartment-slash-dojo on top of a Central Park West doorman building, and any breakfast other than a bagel with cream cheese and lox seemed quite uncivilised to him now. He seriously doubted you could get a decent bagel in Springfield, Indiana. “Is your friend still asleep?” Billy asked between bites. “Sebastian?” The woman asked. Her tone carried the barest hint of disgust, as if the mere suggestion of the man living in her house was revolting. Ah, they may be partners, but she doesn’t like him at all, Billy thought, filing the tidbit away in the mental dossier he was building on his two new friends. “No,” she continued, “He doesn’t live here. But he should be around shortly.” On cue there was a rapping at the front door. The woman dabbed at the corners of her mouth with her napkin before standing from the table. The rapping at the door became more insistent. “I’m coming, Sebastian.” Anna muttered, rolling her eyes. The knocking had reached a fever pitch by the time she made it to the door. The woman opened it. “Good morning, Seb-“ The man pushed his way past her into the sitting room. “Oi, I got that stuff what we needed. Where’s the kid? Still in bed, then?” “We were just sitting down to breakfast.” Anna replied, her voice flat with annoyance. “Care to join us?” Sebastian, Billy saw, was wearing desert combat boots and blue jeans with a belted bush jacket. A tweed walking hat crowned his head and a garment bag was flung over his shoulder. This was obviously a man not accustomed to being out of uniform. The man stomped into the kitchen and pushed the centrepiece and serving dishes to the other end of the table roughly. He tossed the garment bag into the newly cleared space. “Happy Bloody Christmas, kid.” Sebastian said, as he unzipped the bag and drew out the contents. Laid out before him Billy was a uniform of dark blue corduroy shorts and a light blue short sleeved shirt. A red neckerchief was held in place by a knot of twisted brown leather cord, and a red armband with a cobra sigil was on the left sleeve. The man dropped a black Sam Brown belt onto the table beside it. Billy looked up at the man and woman in confusion. “What? You want me to join the Cub Scouts?” He asked sarcastically. In reality, Billy had always loved history, and was well aware of the historical inspiration of the uniform that lay in front of him. It said nothing good about the organisation his father had joined. Sebastian started to open his mouth, but Anna cut him off. “Do you remember last night when I said you might be able to help us, Billy?” She said with a wide grin. May 6th, 1983, Springfield, Indiana Tomohiro “Tommy” Arashikage strode into the low brick building on Main Street that held Springfield’s Police Department and City Court. Although Storm Shadow wore a white t-shirt with a tan blazer and slacks today rather than his white ninja uniform, the woman at the front desk recognised him immediately and buzzed him through the secure door into the office area of the police station. He was concerned about Billy, of course. The boy had never returned from his simple data gathering mission to the COBRA archive under the city library last night. As Cobra Commander’s personal body guard, Tommy was plugged into Springfield’s security apparatus, and would have heard about any breach immediately. He didn’t think Billy would give up his name if caught, and if the boy did, Storm Shadow would certainly not be breathing right now. Where was Billy? “There was nothing unusual reported at all last night?” He asked the dispatcher again. “No, Sir,” the dispatcher replied, “Last night was quiet as a tomb, both white side and blue side.” The dispatcher, like every member of the Springfield Police Department, was a COBRA operative, and white side referred to the Department’s legitimate police activities, blue to it’s role as COBRA’s security force for the city. “There was one call for a domestic disturbance, and one of the cars had an out-of-towner DUI driver on 69. He was just some square civvie puke on his way home to Daleville from Indy. He checked out clean and they sent him on his way. That’s everything.” The officer said. “If you get anything, -anything!-, out of the ordinary I expect my office to be informed immediately. Is that understood, officer?” Tommy demanded. “Yes, sir!” The dispatcher replied. Storm Shadow stood in the middle of the station, hand on chin, deep in thought. Billy had been champing at the bit to do something, anything, to strike back at COBRA for the last three years, so there was no way he just decided to take off. The had been no disturbances reported, and the boy was an extremely gifted student in Arashikage ninjutsu, so it’s not as if he could have been snatched off the street. No, something was very wrong, and it had Tommy worried. “What’s going on?” A voice asked from behind, snapping the ninja out of his train of thought. He turned to see the scarred face and ruined, milky white right eye of Scrap Iron. When in Springfield Scrap Iron was the commander of the town’s special security force, the fifty additional off the books members of the SPD, and wore a police lieutenant’s blue uniform. “Nothing specific,” Tommy said, “but the Founding Day rally is tomorrow night, and that means extra exposure. Security needs to be airtight, so I was just checking to see if anything out of the ordinary had been reported.” Scrap Iron cocked his head to one side, eyeing Tommy curiously. “You sure that’s it? You look worried.” He asked. The fact that his trained face was showing anxiety made Tommy once again realise how much he’d come to care for Billy over the last few years. The boy is practically family now, he thought. “If I’m being honest, something just doesn’t feel right.” Storm Shadow replied. “I’m sure it’s probably nothing, but you’ll keep me apprised of anything unusual?” “Absolutely!” Scrap Iron said, and then laid a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “I sleep a lot easier with you around looking after the Commander. Some of the others... well, you know...” Scrap Iron’s words trailed off into the realm of best left unspoken. He had been with the Commander from the beginning. Before the beginning, actually, since the days of the old COBRA. He was probably the only member of the upper echelon who didn’t have treacherous designs. Including myself, the ninja thought. Storm Shadow faced the man and bowed deeply. May 6th, 1983, Springfield, Indiana “That’s the whole plan?” Billy said incredulously. “Yes,” The woman replied, “Of course. You don’t think much of it?” Billy shifted in the dining room chair and leaned back. “Oh, I’m sure it will work. But details are a little thin about how I get away with out being killed.” It was the man’s turn to speak now. “There’s going to be so much bleedin’ confusion you’ll be able to slip away before anybody even susses out what’s ‘appened!” He yelled, starting to rise from his seat. Anna put a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder, forcing him back down into his seat. “I’ll be right next to the Commander, Billy. I will make sure nothing happens to you.” She said. Billy mulled it over. He was sure his master wouldn’t approve. But did it really matter? Three years of doing katas and meditating in a freaking water tower, and for what? ‘Not, yet, Billy’ and doing nothing! And when, at long last, Storm Shadow finally sent him on a mission it’s to break into a damn library! He didn’t trust these two further than he could spit, but he did believe that they wanted Cobra Commander dead. This was finally a chance to hurt COBRA! “I’ll do it.” Billy said grimly.
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Needs : AOCI Lamprey Vests, (or similar), ROC Flash helmets, ROC Shipwreck flippers, 25th Dusty Torsos (or similar), BBTS Bull (Taurus) head, Snake Eyes V.52 forearms. Last edited by DerStahlhelm; 08-30-2018 at 06:54 PM.. |
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