Chapter 12
The terrorist group was clearly no longer hiding from the outside world or from G.I.Joe. The blatant attack on the USS Crockett had proved that. It was also clear that there was little chance of taking Cobra by surprise. At this time, both G.I.Joe and the United States government would take the opportunity to speak with several of the appointed leaders in central Africa. Most of the area’s leadership was in agreement that brute force, if warranted, should be used to stop the growing threat of Cobra. It seemed as if the anticipated strike would finally occur. Word would be sent to Pathfinder that he would soon need to be ready to spring the lock on the Marine stockade and clear a path for the prisoners to escape. The G.I.Joe team would soon be striking out at Cobra and hard.
Admiral Keelhaul of the crew of the USS Flagg had received formal notification that she was now welcome in the private coastal waters close to the Kenyan outpost. If Cobra wanted a fight, they would be more than willing to give them one, but the attack on the Crockett had been swift and no other threats had been made. Their enemy had disappeared almost as quickly as they had appeared, causing little, if any damage to the American destroyer.
“What are they all about? What was the point of the attack?” the Admiral pondered amongst his closest advisors. “It makes little sense. Why initiate an attack and then not follow up on it? What do they hope to accomplish by attacking a U.S. naval vessel?
The other officers in attendance could offer little more than a shrug. This Cobra was not an easy foe to figure out. It was as if the rules of engagement didn’t apply to the head snake. Little was known about his origin or designs and what was known didn’t always make sense. Cobra Commander was an egomaniacal leader with his sights set upon world conquest and power. He cared little about whom he had to go through to get there, but just five years prior. He didn’t even exist. What major event had served as his impetus into power? The elite task force would need to figure this out and quickly if they had any hopes of quelling their further rise to power.
Pathfinder looked over the newest note from the Joes with quiet disdain. It had been just over four weeks since he went undercover on this mission, and he found himself oddly intrigued by the promises and prospects of this terrorist organization. He began to wrestle internally with the implications of not only turning on the Joe team, but the possibilities of staying in as a Cobra. The terrorist organization had been welcoming to him and nonjudgmental. Croc Master had become a good friend in a short period of time, and he oddly felt guilty about abandoning the guy. There were too many dilemmas and decisions to contend with. He glanced down at his wrist watch, fully aware that the time was fast approaching for his next check in with Officer 5. He hand began to weigh his options. How would he explain away the fact that he was indeed a G.I.Joe undercover operative? Who would believe that he was turning traitor and joining Cobra’s ranks? Why was he now having these thoughts? He loved his country and the freedoms he had been sworn to protect. Why was he having second thoughts?
What the Joe infiltrator didn't know was that his affiliation with G.I.Joe had been determined two weeks prior by the terrorist organization. Croc Master had his suspicions and Crystal Ball had secretly probed his mind for the truth. But the terrorist group was cunning and as easy as it would be to just execute the interloper, they found more sport in the possibility of brainwashing him and turning him on to their cause.
As the jungle specialist once again stared at the orders from his teammates, invisible wavelengths emanating from one of his uniform buttons, continued to barrage his innermost thoughts with Crystal Ball’s all enticing psychic message. This whole time, the hypnotist had been watching from a hidden camera buried deep in the ceiling of the Joe turned Cobra’s barracks. Watching intently as his suggestions began to challenge his loyalties.
“If he thinks that he is fooling us in any way, he is greatly mistaken.”
As he rubbed his fingertips together in his signature pose, he returned his full attention to his avian-like friend.
“I believe it’s time for you and your feathered allies to drop in, quite literally on the Joes camping nearby. The Joes will never expect the attack to come from birds of all places.”
Raptor’s excitement was hard to conceal, but before he whisked out of the room he nodded to the hypnotist and the two of them shared in a much necessary.
“Indeed!”
His feathered cape rustled with a loud and piercing. “PeKaw!” He was off to unleash mayhem on the unsuspecting Joe forces.
Crystal ball could do little more than laugh maniacally in reply. As the bird-like man left the room to make his preparations, the illusionist received a new notification. The text was nondescript stating only that the Commander had recently dispatched another of his big guns to get the troops prepared for the upcoming skirmish. The hypnotist pondered this new information for a second and then smiled once more.
“It is going to be a good day indeed!”
* * * * *
The USS Crockett had taken little damage during their recent brush up with Cobra and after extinguishing a few minor fires below deck, they began to turn their attention to the impending battle. Torpedo and Wetsuit had radioed Captain Seaward and requested to lead the search for Shipwreck, but they were still aboard the USS Flagg, which was currently a few nautical miles out. Captain Seaward was more than happy to comply with their request as the two ships were set to rendezvous within the next twenty minutes.
Shipwreck had managed to secure two additional oxygen tanks to his person upon exiting his damaged and sinking S.H.A.R.C. By his estimations, he had enough oxygen to last him at least another forty-five minutes. This was hopefully enough time to find a way out of the sunken tanker and back to the surface and the safety of his ship. His original ingress was now blocked by the mangled wreckage of his S.H.A.R.C. But something about this sunken freighter just didn’t feel right to him. It seemed a little too new and too convenient for the veteran sailor’s liking. Then he saw them through an opening in the ship’s deck. Three Cobra frogmen swam into an area several meters below him. As they came to a stop, it appeared that they were manipulating an underwater computer panel of sorts. Shipwreck watched in amazement as a glass half dome emerged from the wall, lowered diagonally around them, and sealed them in. A few moments later, the water drained from inside and a doorway opened that they stepped through.
“Well, I'll be a barnacle’s brother! I think I just found Cobra’s secret underwater base.”
The naval officer squeezed through the opening then swam down the extra couple meters knowing full well that he may also have found his way back to the surface. As he turned the underwater corner, he could clearly see his way back out into the open sea. He hugged the walls of the freighter tightly and began his crawl/swim out of the confines of the sunken ship, he kept his eyes peeled for any other unwanted guests.
* * * * *
I had been informed that the Joe team had successfully entrenched themselves about fifty yards from the besieged Marine outpost. They had been keeping a careful watch of the entire goings on and had been able to determine the total number of enemy troops stationed inside the base, due to the intelligence of Ambush and Pathfinder. My boot camera by this time was no longer transmitting information due to its battery dying nearly a week earlier. It was an odd day and I watched from the prison window as the man dressed in the bird costume assembled his entourage of birds. He was distributing two grenades to each of his avian allies from a wooden box marked with the word “explosives.”
Was I seeing this correctly? Was this guy actually arming his hawks to wage an attack the Joe team? I shook my head in disbelief as the strange bird man and his feathered troops grabbed their explosives in their talons and took to the open skies. This time they left in complete silence as their flanked the Cobra falconer who took to the skies with the aid of two wrist rockets.
Several minutes later, the door to our prison opened and two officers and a hulking mass of a man wearing boxing gloves and a silver spiked mask walked in. This guy was new. We had never seen the likes of him before. He walked over to me and through the mask addressed me in a gruff military type voice.
“What did you just witness chump?” He growled at me.
“I.. I didn’t see anything other than a bunch of birds.”
I lied, of course, not wanting to incur the wrath of this newly arrived Cobra operative.
“Good. And let's keep it that way!” He leaned into me so I could see his eyes through the opening in his mask. They appeared cold, dark and ruthless and I shuddered as a chill move up my spine. He then turned to the rest of the room and addressed the two officers that came in with him.
“Find me the three biggest and strongest Marines and drag them outside. I need some boxing practice!”
“Right away Big Boa.” The officers moved hurriedly about the room and surrounded PFC Rigger, Lance Corporal James, and Sergeant Montalvo. Montalvo was a solid tank of a man. He was 6 foot 7 and 265 pounds of solid muscle. Few men would want to tangle with him. In fact, he was one of the few of us that had not been tortured or questioned up until this time. Rigger was 6 foot 3 and 225 pounds, but no less intimidating. LCpl James was built like a linebacker standing close to 6 foot 4 and about 240 pounds. None of these guys were by any means diminutive or weak. What did this newcomer hope to prove? Most guys would be hard pressed to subdue one of these guys without a gun and he wanted all three?
The officers leveled their assault rifles at my fellow brothers in blue and marched them outside. A ring of Cobra troops quickly formed in the courtyard outside of our prison. All three Marines were led into the middle of the makeshift arena. A shirtless Big Boa, complete with boxing gloves, stepped to the center amongst the cheers of the Cobra legion. We all watched as the event unfolded from the cell’s barred door and solitary window.
“Alright you wannabe tough guys, today you're all going to find out why you can't beat Cobra.” Rigger and Montalvo just glared at the guy. “Come on then let me see what the biggest and baddest of the Marine corps has to offer!” He taunted them from one side of the ring. “I'll take the three of you on at the same time.” Then he gestured for them to attack him.
Sgt. Montalvo was the first to make a move. He lunged at the big man in an attempt to overpower him and take him down to the ground. Big Boa easily scooped the two hundred plus pounder over his head and threw him into the other two potential attackers. PFC Rigger side stepped his flying corpsman and came at the boxer with leading punches. He landed a few body blows, but the Cobra trainer was like hitting a sheet of steel. James came at him from the other side with a well-placed roundhouse kick. The kick landed squarely on Big Boa’s jaw, and for a brief moment, the two Marines thought they might have gained the upper hand as the 6 foot 8 man staggered a step. The massive boxer shook off the kick and growled loudly before launching into a flurry of his own punches. By this time, Sgt. Montalvo was back to his feet and once again joining the fray. Big Boa landed five of his six solid punches on the Marine and Rigger found himself trying to cover up from the assault. Montalvo attempted an attack from behind but was once again thwarted as the Cobra trainer simply deflected the attack by flipping him over his back and into a rear naked choke accompanied by an arm bar. The crowd erupted in cheers much to our chagrin.
James and Rigger moved in quickly to attack the occupied prize fighter in unison, but before they could save their friend, a sound similar to a large firecracker exploding was heard. Followed shortly after by the sounds of Sgt. Montalvo howling in pain. The man cowered on the ground gripping his shattered arm. The hulking mass of a man having incapacitated Montalvo turned his rage upon the other two combatants. He landed two uppercuts on LCpl James successfully sprawling him out cold. PFC Rigger was now the only remaining threat. He spun into a series of offensive kicks once more catching his opponent a little off guard and managing to once again land several body blows and a head shot. The Cobra fighter staggered slightly to the left before once again shaking off the effects of the volley. When Rigger came in for another round, Big Boa caught him by the leg and swung him around like a rag doll then tossing him into the crowd. Crawling to get back to his feet, the strange masked man sprung forward with lightning speed and delivered a right kick to the man’s jaw. PFC Rigger sat up, his eyes rolled up into the back of his head and he was knocked unconscious. The ring of Cobra soldiers cheered again. The whole incident lasted about ten minutes. We all looked at each other in disbelief. This new guy was definitely not someone to be trifled with.
“Get these wretched excuses for men out of my sight! Tomorrow, I want five attackers! Maybe then I'll have some competition!”
The crowd cheered again. James and Rigger were dragged back into the prison. Sgt. Montalvo was taken away by what appeared to be a medic to tend to his shattered arm. Pathfinder could do little more than swallow hard from the sidelines. He had witnessed Sergeant Slaughter in a similar situation and wondered if the hardened Joe drill instructor could match the brute strength of this newest Cobra champion.
“I will be conducting the evening sparring lessons from here on in. I look forward to turning all of you Nancies into real Cobra troopers!” The crowd cheered again. Big Boa then turned and headed for the recreation center with a slew of enthusiastic Cobra combatants following close behind.
We all went to the aid of our battered and beaten brothers once the doors of the cell were slammed shut. Both men were really shaken up from the incident that had just transpired, but neither would graciously accept their defeat.
“That guy must be genetically enhanced, I hit him with enough force to drop a grizzly bear, and he just shook it off like a mosquito had stung him!” PFC Rigger was completely dumbfounded and LCpl James could do little more than nod in agreement.
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