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07-26-2021, 08:50 PM | #1 |
The Pariah Dog
Join Date: Jul 2021
Location: Earth
Posts: 8
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Had my editor *cough* *cough* wife *cough, cough* boss..... go over this file , fixed some spelling errors and cleaned it up.
if anyone catches the references please comment them, these may have not aged well 90's/ 80's kids I have hope for you. ***Jörmungandr*** Cobra Commander sat staring at the stunning view arrayed around him… the Caucasus Mountains, an imposing wall stretching 750 miles and providing a natural means of defense. Cobra Commander’s castle nestled well hidden near the peak of Mount Elbrus. Few men knew of this retreat, Cobra Commander ensured he had places of absolute security and privacy. This Location was special for the Commander, an event involving a German WW II Mountain Division, the first who inspight of direct orders to capture the Soviet Port of Yuzhny, chose to break off and conquer the summit of Mount Elbrus, the first to do so in fact. Such places of history reminded the Commander, kept him rooted and focused. This long game has grown boring, more attention was required more of his focus. Politics had changed; cultures rose and fell, each leaving their own distinct mark, shift the ebb and flow… With each new age his plans required more and more adjustment. As the need arose the Commander would expand his forces as needed. A moment of rest had come to an end; his attention was required once more. Rising, the Commander stepped to the full length mirror. Time had been kind to the Commander old wounds and all he still maintained a very difficult age to place, somewhere among the 35 to 45 or so. Without thought his fingers brushed a prominent facial scar, a much coveted scar… He took strength in his accomplishments, this one; he wore for all to see. One he dare not show to just anyone… Donning his hood the Commander descended to the lower levels until reaching the flight deck. Only limited aircraft were stored here, the ground crew, another necessary addition simply got counted among the staff as a whole, including servants and security. Ground as it was… was limited thus sparing the expense that would otherwise cover grounds keepers. Rather these expenditures ensured silence. Each man and woman serving here would retire wealthy individuals in their own right. Aircraft maintained here was limited to Flight Pods, otherwise known as Trouble Bubbles, a personal favorite, Fangs, Cobra Claws & small to medium VTOL craft. Cobra Commander boarded a simple “air car” this day. A smallish automated craft capable of carrying five individuals in total, Cobra Commander being one, his handpicked Crimson Guard taking another three seats, leaving one seat for the Commanders aide. **** Their destination was a dark pine forest of a questionable heritage, around the landing aircar the ruins of what might once has been a camp of some kind, in truth the location was one of renown inspight of the present state of the location. Another location of particular interest to Cobra Commander, this sight once bore the name Werewolf, Cobra Commander kept the name. Here Cobra Commander maintained a modest command and control center, a bunker several feet below accessible via limited means. In ruined basement access was provided to a secure entry. From there anyone entering the base would be scanned and verified for entry. Transmissions in and out were strictly limited and monitored. Cobra Commander hated this place even while he understood and appreciated the advantages such locations provided. As noted previously… Politics had changed… Oh the agenda would not be impeded of course, though… perhaps a bit slowed. What had been a world united Justly against evil had shifted to a world divided by flawed ideologies. War on a scale of World War I & II was far less likely, this was the age of brush wars, isolated affairs in countries that just happen to be unfortunate to be the chosen battlefield so the two schoolyard bullies can hash out who is the toughest. Was it better… was it worse? It was different. And in the end it all fed the Commanders plan. Cobra Agents to sew chaos here, rescue a kitten there… maybe adopt an orphan… for charity… Cobra agents served everywhere, fueling and fighting the same fires. An American CIA agent wheeling and dealing in Afghanistan, a Soviet border guard perhaps… helping that kid flee over the wall… perhaps shoot that kid. Thus was the strength and the weakness of Cobra, but this was what served Cobra best in this age. War had gone underground, everyone had an opinion everyone had to have their say, was getting so a guy couldn’t ferment world domination without hacking through a jungle of red tape. So Cobra Commander did what any sensible politician would do, buried the lies under six feet of concrete and planted a community garden over it. And carried on with business as normal. At least Cobra Mercenaries would always be in demand. Turn over a 100 rocks and you’ll find 50 guys who want to kill the other guy first. War is business after all, and business is good. **** Cobra Commander scanned the reports, signed the orders gave the directions and with every step made his way out of the control room. A moments respite before…. “COMMANDER!” “COMMANDER!” “COMMANDER!” “Shut Up I was here first!” “COMMANDER!” “COMMANDER!” “HEY GET OFF MY FOOT…” “SILENCE!” The Commander stood at the head of the tactical table. He glared at his commanders for a full minute before seating himself… and full minute after THAT he order a coffee… Before allowing the gathered brass to breath and seat themselves. To his right Destro, to his left… the Baroness… she was dressed simply today, leather pants, combat boots, and an armored vest over a sports bra… The Commander raised a brow before returning his attention to the men and woman gathered before him. Cobra Commander used regular reporting such as this to maintain control and to keep informed of rising situations. It was all a grand strategy game to the Commander, his men… his equipment… Citizens, Soldiers… Politicians… all pieces in a game of world domination, it was a an epic game to be sure spanning the length and breadth of humanity. What is the death of one piece when there are always more to take it’s place? Did the Commander care? Once……. Perhaps. A time forgotten… a time of no importance now… The Commander ordered his thoughts, it was time to work, he had missions to direct. Nodding curtly to a portly individual, a man roughly in his 40’s exhibiting a trimmed beard hiding a double chin rose and bowed before the Commander before offering a debriefing on an on-going mission, a small seed of descent paired with a casual well meaning remark hopeful to bear fruit in the coming years, roots to slowly weaken the foundations of barriers. And so the reports ran on… **** A moment’s respite… **** Once again the Commander’s direction was required… The Commander grinned darkly… Politics had changed… Long past were the days of world spanning wars, after all when you could kill a country with a few missiles and never had to leave home? What stopped them? Conflict was no stranger by any means, but chances to break out the big stuff was far and few between. Even the pawns were lesser men in this age. What had potential was quickly routed by a pack of do gooders. Time to take war… underground… direct conflict was rare an yet… there would always remain a means of carrying the plan forward. Always someone to use to further the machinations of what will be… Last edited by Dog Soldier; 07-26-2021 at 09:56 PM.. |
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