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Armed and Dangerous Book 1 and 2 "Links to all chapters"

Below you will find chronological links to all 17 Chapters of "Armed and Dangerous," A G.I.Joe Origins Story.  At the bottom of th...

Monday, January 14, 2019

Enter the Headhunters Epilogue

Epilogue
          The man known as Ghost Bear stepped off his plane carrying a duffle bag and the case given to him by Cobra high command.  A small 80’s style jeep was parked over to the side of the airport brandishing the flag that had been described to him by Major Bludd.  Two men in traditional Arab head-garb sat behind the wheel. He had started to grow in his facial hair prior to his deployment and after dying it, he took on a more Arabic-look.  The makeshift airstrip he landed at did not require him to register his entry into the country and this made him feel even less safe.  The man behind the wheel stepped out of the jeep and raised his hands signaling for him to walk on over.  Ghost Bear acknowledged the man and made his way towards them. 
“Are you the Ghost Bear?
The man spoke in broken English but could be easily understood.  The Cobra emissary nodded and also answered in broken English.
“Yes, it is I. You speak Farsi? Arabic?”  The man smiled a big gnarly, toothy grin at him.
“Yes, welcome my brother! As-Salaam-Alaikum!”
“As-Salaam-Alaikum.”
The other two men exited the vehicle and offered to assist the younger man with his luggage into the jeep.  He did the correct thing and thanked them, but loaded his personal items into the vehicle himself.  The four men then began their journey away from the airstrip and onto a barely recognizable dirt road.
   *     *     *     *
          The D.E.F. team arrived on the scene in Newark in under an hour using the team’s helicopter. They immediately began investigating the area for ballistics evidence and drug paraphernalia. 
“Major, these spent casings are not like anything we’ve seen before.  Whoever orchestrated this hit has access to some pretty high-tech artillery.” 
As the team continued their investigation two more bodies were retrieved from out of the bay. 
“Looks like these two guys tried to abandon ship and were shot dead in the water.” 
By the time the team was done with their preliminary search, they were left with more questions than answers.  It was clearly a turf war, but the identity of the second player was still unknown. 
“So what are you thinking Major? Negotiations gone bad?  Or a random hit?”
“This was clearly a planned assassination since each faction came prepared.  The level of accuracy here leads me to believe that we are dealing with a very organized and disciplined drug cartel.  This was deliberate, and it doesn’t appear that there was a single casualty on the other side.  The wrist tattoos clearly identify all the dead as members of the Vargus Syndicate.”
Bombstrike continued clicking on her tablet as her teammates discussed the possible players.
“Guys, you’re going to want to see this.  I was able to tap into the security feed of a ship anchored off to the right side of the pier.  It appears all other nearby cameras were dismantled prior to the firefight, but I was able to get this.” 
The forward observer turned her tablet to show a freeze frame of two men holding handguns trained on the Vargus family.  One of the men was wearing a ridiculously-colored forest-green suit with a white fedora and a face mask. 
“Can you zoom in on that and clear it up?”
“Give me a minute.”
Her fingers padded away on the tablet improving the resolution and size of the image.

“I know who we’re dealing with now.  Ladies and gentlemen this isn’t good.  The man pictured goes by the street name of the Headman, one Declan H. Mann.  Once a sleazy, two-bit drug pusher now, one of the most notorious organized drug lords in all of North America.  We thought he was dead due to the fact that he’s been off the radar for several years. He runs a group of radicals known as the Headhunters.  This hit indicates that he’s finally ready to take his small-time criminal band and enter into the big leagues.  Things just got interesting.”

Friday, January 11, 2019

Enter the Headhunters Chapter 25

Chapter 25
Several hours had passed and Vincent d’Alleva was more than halfway through mixing up his newly modified plant food formula.  He had gathered up some germinating seeds to use in the later stages of the process.  Using a dissecting scope and live seeds, he could apply the finished solution and directly observe its effects at the cellular level.  His excitement level continued to grow the closer he came to completion.
“All I need to do now is distill the crystals and add them to the existing mixture.  The fractionalization process always takes so long.”   He instinctively looked at the clock on the wall as his stomach began to grumble.  “I can’t believe that I worked through dinner again!  Is it really a quarter to ten?  Where did the time go?” 
Vincent walked to the rear of the lab where he had a small personal refrigerator and opened the door.  Several containers of Greek yogurt greeted his hungry eyes.  He picked one up and checked the expiration date.
“Well, it says its still good.  Might as well eat something while I wait.” 
The crystallization chamber continued to crackle and pop as the chemicals continued to combine on a molecular level releasing small amounts of heat and condensation in their wake.  A preset timer indicated that the process was near completion.
  *     *     *
          The caravan of various delivery trucks did their best to blend in with traffic along I-95 South.  They were already in New Jersey and less than fifteen minutes from their desired target.  The Newark docks were a congested area with a lot of activity.  The chosen rendezvous point was the same pier that had once housed the Headman’s supply house only months ago.  The Headman managed to maintain his composure as the meeting site emerged.  He did not want a turf war, but he would not be attacked or insulted.  He had worked too hard and come too far for that.  Gristle stopped the car when the pier was in clear view.  It was not well lit and it appeared that the arranger of the meeting was already on site as a large black SUV  with running lights on was parked near the corner of the dock.  The vehicle had a large push bar and was turned around and facing in their direction, ready to make a quick getaway or to ram an oncoming vehicle.
          “It appears that Vargus and his cronies are already here.  Instruct the ground troops to get their night vision goggles on and to get into position.”  His second in command gave the order through a Bluetooth comlink.  A moment later there was a response.
          “Alpha, Beta and Epsilon teams are in position, sir.  Delta team is floating in the bay.  We await your orders, sir.” 
The Headman nodded into the rearview mirror and instructed his driver to proceed onto the dock. They parked the car roughly thirty yards from the black Expedition, whose hood logo could now be clearly identified.  The doors on both sides of the luxury SUV opened and several men in long trench coats emerged holding their hands up in a non-threatening manner. 
          Gristle exited the car and opened the rear door so the Headman could join him on the outside.  The two parties then walked to the center of the area between both vehicles which was illuminated by the parking lights of both cars.
          “I didn’t know if you would actually show Declan.  It’s truly been too long.” The Headman now recognized the voice to be that of Manuel Vargus, a street peddler from back in the day when they both ran product for the Sinaloa cartel.  Both men had at one time been acquainted and close allies, now the man was a mere customer who occasionally purchased large amounts of drugs from him.
          “Manuel, so good to see you again.  Although if you wanted my attention there were other ways to do it than killing my informant.”
          “Jimmy was a snitch and working with the feds.  I did you a favor.”
          “And what about the firebomb at the bar?  Were you doing me a favor there too?  Several of my associates were gravely injured by your arsonist and that is NOT an acceptable way to do business!” 
The drug lord’s voice was stern and intimidating, but there was no movement from the four men standing before him.”
          “Maybe, we’re done doing business with you.  Maybe, it’s time for a change.  Too long has Vargus taken orders from you.  We want the northeast. It’s time for you to take orders from us.” 
Gristle made a slight move to reach for his handgun, but Declan put his hand on his shoulder to stop him.
          “I came here tonight to try and broker a reasonable agreement and keep the peace between our two organizations.  If you want to challenge my leadership of the streets I understand, but are you really ready to back up that statement with blood?  I can still be a reasonable man.  It’s up to you now.”
          “We’re done taking orders from you and your band of miscreants.”
          “Have it your way then.  Your ‘blindspot’ will be your own undoing.” 
As the words left his lips, several red targets appeared on the chests of the four men standing before them.  The Headman and Gristle both pulled their own weapons and fired at the four men while dashing for cover among a pile of crates. A barrage of bullets began to rain down upon both parties.  Vargus had also come ready for a firefight.
          “Get down boss!  Let the Headhunters take care of this.” 
Alpha and Beta team snipers made short work of the men brandishing guns who had emerged from among the steel canisters and alleyways.  Several of Vargus’ men tried to jump off the pier into a waiting getaway craft only to be mowed down by Delta team.  The whole firefight lasted no more than six minutes, and all members of the Vargus Cartel laid dead or were dying.  Manuel Vargus was barely clinging to life when he tried to crawl to safety under his SUV.  The Headman ran over to the man’s prone body and grabbed him by his right leg preventing his escape. He then turned the man over to face him as three well-armored stormtroopers flanked the man from key sides.  Manuel Vargus put up his hands in surrender.
“Please Declan, we were friends once. Show some mercy. I made a mistake.  You win. Please, I have a family.”
The Leader of the Headhunters smiled at the carnage around him and at the bloodied man lying before him.
 “Oh, I’ll show you mercy. I’ll make sure your family is lying next to you in the morgue in the next twenty-four hours. I reject your proposal and hereby put you and your upstarts out of business.” 
He placed his gold-plated pistol between the defeated crime lord’s eyes, then squeezed the trigger. As the final shot rang out, he announced once more.  “The Headman reigns supreme!”
          He used Vargus’ tie to wipe the blood from his handgun then surveyed the fallen bodies.
“Did we lose anyone?”
Alpha indicated that everyone was present and accounted for.
“Excellent! Clear the area of any incriminating evidence. The cops will be here shortly, we need to make ourselves scarce.  Move!” 
The activity on the pier ended almost as quickly as it had started.  The Headman placed his handgun back into his shoulder holster before getting back into his limo and Gristle chauffeured him far away from the pier.
 *       *       *
          “Major you’re going to want to see this.” 
Bulletproof jumped up from behind his desk and came over to the monitor.  “Satellite imagery just revealed several random delivery trucks in route to the Newark piers an hour ago.  Local police chatter has just alerted us of multiple shots fired in the same area.” 
Bulletproof slammed his fist hard against the desk.
          “Dammit!  I knew something was brewing.  We need to get out there pronto.”  Bombstrike removed her headset so that everyone in the room could hear the audio. 
          “Local police are reporting multiple rounds of gunfire coming from the main shipping pier outside Newark Liberty International Airport.  At least twenty alleged drug cartel member’s bodies have been retrieved with other casualties expected.  The lone abandoned vehicle was registered to Manuel Vargus, supposed head of the Vargus Syndicate.  It appears rival drug gangs participated in a turf war leading to the multiple homicides.  The FBI and other specialist groups are being called in for further investigation.”
          No sooner had the broadcast occurred that the phone on Major Morris’ desk rang. 
“Hello. yes, this is he.  Why weren’t we made aware of this sooner?  It’s already all over the media. We’re on our way.” 
He hung up the phone and turned to face his team. 

“Everybody gear up. We got a hot crime scene to investigate.  Looks like it’s going to be a late night.”

Wednesday, January 9, 2019

Enter the Headhunters Chapter 24

Chapter 24
After his benefactor’s departure, the CEO of Bacro Industries decided to spend some time on his own experiments.  Hotwire’s stunning spectacle left him feeling the need to prove his own creativity and ingenuity.  It had been several days since he sprayed the plants up in the greenhouse and he could really use some fresh air and tranquility.  He took the elevator up to the rooftop and unlocked the doors to the large glass enclosure.  How he loved the place! The smell of flowers, the relaxing sounds of the cascading fountain, and the soft melodic buzzing of the bees.  It was truly one of his happy places and an escape from the hustle and bustle of running the corporation.  He crossed through the main garden area to get to the laboratory where he swiped his security card.  Upon entering, he traded in his suit jacket for a white lab coat and a pair of canvas gardening gloves, before walking over to check on his previous test subjects. 
To his ultimate dismay, all but one species of the vegetables he had sprayed were dead. 
“I don’t understand it!  Why is this happening? How can it kill the tomatoes and not the corn?”
The frustrated scientist pounded his fist on the table and sat down in a slump with his face held in his hands.  He didn’t remain in that position long before he jumped back up to his feet. 
“I need to get back to my laboratory and check my notes.  Hotwire must have mixed it up wrong.  Then I’ll simply prepare it myself this time.”
Not wanting to be disturbed or observed by other employees, Vincent exited the greenhouse and took the elevator down to his private lab.   Few in the complex knew of its existence as it was located in a secured wing on the maintenance floor. His personal lab gave him access to all the components needed to create the various types of fertilizers on the market.  A copy of his original notes and formula were safely locked away in the room’s computerized safe.  He punched in a combination made up of both of his children’s birth dates and extracted his notebook in order to peruse the transcripts of his latest formula. 
“Oh! How did I miss that?  By combining the organophosphates before the nitrates I’ve inadvertently created a form of diquat.  This is quite troubling.  Perhaps if I reverse steps sixteen and twenty-seven, I can counteract the reaction and stabilize the formula.  No wonder that little upstart called it a weed killer.  He probably saw the problem as he was mixing up the batch.  I’ll have to talk to him about that later.” 
Vincent spoke out loud as his mind began to further process the written organic equations.  He had originally created the mixture when he was depressed and severely sleep deprived.  He wouldn’t make that mistake again.  He circled the error in the formula and labeled the step “herbicide.” 
“I’ll make a note here just in case I decide to market a weed killer later on.”
He traversed the room in order to procure the chemicals needed for the first steps of the process.  His creative juices were flowing now and his mind was racing a mile a minute now.  If all went well, he could have a test batch ready for use by the end of the day.
    *     *     *
          The bar room arsonist had adeptly escaped out the back of the structure and shielded himself with an old refrigerator from the blast.  He then slipped through a hole cut in the chain-link fence at the rear of the property and hopped on his motorcycle riding off into obscurity.  When he was more than a few miles from the blast zone, he pulled his rice rocket into an underground garage and retrieved a cell phone from a zipped pocket on his left pant leg.  He pressed the power up button and dialed the preprogrammed number.  The line trilled only once before the voice of his employer answered. 
          “Well hello Wraith, I trust you sent the message?”
          “I asked you not to say my name out loud.”
          “Relax! I’m in my private safe room.  Did they agree to the merger?”
          “Not exactly.  The Headman decided to push the envelope and after agreeing to meet with you tonight, exited the building before I dismissed him.  No one was killed, but I highly doubt he’s pleased with the encounter.”
There was a pause at the other end and a long sigh.
          “So, I assume that our meeting at the pier will not be a civil one, not that I had expected it to be anyway.  Charles can be quite pig-headed. But, no matter. You did your job.  I’ll be in touch if I should further require your services.”
          “And my payment?”
The man on the other end of the line pressed an audible key on his phone.
          “Check your account now.” 
Wraith swiped down to expose a second screen which indicated a rather large cash transfer.
          “Pleasure doing business with you.  Try not to die.”
He then disconnected the call.  Afterward, he removed the sim card, melted it with a lighter and smashed the burner phone on the ground.  He looked around the garage for suitable disposal and found it in the form of a large garbage barrel. The mercenary then rode off in the direction of the main street.
   *     *     *
          The Headman returned to the security of his new warehouse behind Bacro Industries.   He was a little bruised and dirty, but far from beaten.  He had sent a message to all available foot soldiers prior to his arrival, and a legion of seventy-five highly armored soldiers stood at the ready in the center of the warehouse.  The Mechanic had already handed out lightweight assault rifles modified with laser scopes and silencers, as well as magazines of ammunition.  It was only several hours before the scheduled meeting on the pier in Newark, and it would take a minimum of two and a half hours for the complete unit to complete the drive into the Garden State.
          “Gentlemen, today there was a vicious attack on your leadership.  We were fortunate in the fact that no one lost their life, but several of the Weasel’s operatives were severely injured in a blast meant to kill all who were in attendance.  The act cannot go unchallenged!  This act cannot go unnoticed!  And this attack Will Be Handled tonight!  This act was an act of war against our organization and it will not be left unanswered!  Tonight, I will give this Vargus one opportunity to rectify the situation and surrender.  If my demands are not met, vengeance will be swift and severe.  We will leave the bodies of our adversaries littering the piers and bloodying the waters.  This will be the night that the Headhunters will truly rise!”
          The soldiers in attendance cheered loudly at the proclamations of their leader.
          “And the Headman shall reign supreme!” 
The room once again erupted in a chorus of cheers.  The squadron leaders were brought into their supreme leader’s private quarters for a briefing, and the warehouse was soon a bustle of activity.  Stormtroopers loaded weapons and ammunition into the back of at least a dozen heavily armored box trucks.  The Headman had his personal bulletproof limousine brought out for the drive into New Jersey.  He outfitted himself with a kevlar vest and secured his personal sidearm to his body.  He then dressed in a mint-green suit and fedora.
Gristle, his second in command and personal bodyguard, also prepared for the upcoming skirmish strapping on a kevlar vest and a second gun holster.  At 1930 hundred hours, the convoy of delivery trucks headed up by the Headman’s personal limo exited the property after which split up in order to travel several different routes to their destination.
  *     *     *
          The Dreadnok speed enthusiast, known as Burnout, stepped off the tarmac. The private jet that he had flown on to the metropolitan area had made the trip quicker than any commercial airline could have.  He was eager to get into the city and check in with some of the old gang.  The encrypted message sent prior to his arrival to one of his old patch brother, Cletus, had resulted in a tricked out Harley being left for him in the visitor lot of Kennedy International Airport.  He hated the airport because of its congestion and the fact that it’s under constant construction, but he preferred it to LaGuardia.  The motorcycle was equipped with fingerprint recognition in place of a key, something he had developed across the pond and shipped here for a patent prior to his arrival.   Arriving on a private jet, allowed him to skip the long lines at customs and immigration.  His passport was valid, but he didn’t need or want unwanted attention. He preferred flying under the radar. There were many individuals in the area who might still be bitter about losing their cherished tricked-out rides to the speed junky in past races.

The Harley started right up and purred under his fingertips.  He opted for quieter pipes on his ride and removed a helmet from one of the custom fabricated saddlebags and placed it over his dreadlocks.  He then proceeded to ride off on to the JFK Expressway heading into Manhattan.

Tuesday, January 8, 2019

Thundercats



     Thundercats have to be one of my all-time non-military toy lines from the late 1980s.  Not only that, they were paired up with a really great cartoon series that I still enjoy to this day.  Back in the late 1990s and early 2000s, I set out on a mission to obtain all the characters from the Thundercats toyline for a reasonable price.  To this day they are still some of my prized action figures due to their cartoon realism, their vibrant colors, and their unique battlematic action features.  Distributed by LJN, they carried with them a lot of the similar action features seen in the Dungeons and Dragons toyline from the same company.  By activating a lever on the figure's back, one could move the arms to simulate sword slashing, punching or grabbing.  The Berzerkers, a band of evil pirates, had some even more unique features like spinning or zipping across the floor on an embedded wheel in the chest.  The vehicles from the toyline are a little cheesy and large but do resemble their cartoon counterparts as well. To this day, I do not own a Cat's Lair and probably never will due to its size and lack of playability features. I actually prefer Mumm-Ra's Tomb playset as it has the transformation chamber and two of the four Ancient Spirits of Evil from the cartoon.
    An unfortunate side effect of the plastic used to manufacture this series is that over time they may yellow in color, become speckled with brown spots, or suffer from stickiness. ( I recommend displaying them in a case and not handling them.  This kills me because they really are an awesome toy line.)
    In the above pictures, you can see the entire figure run.  The top shelf shows all the good Thundercats and their allies and companions.  The middle shelf focuses on the Evil Mutants and their allies.  I have even been fortunate enough to obtain a MOC Stinger and a Driller figure (Two of the harder figures to obtain from the third series).
   I will add names at a later time.  Until then, enjoy a trip down memory lane with the Thundercats.
Thunder! Thunder Thundercats Ho!

Monday, January 7, 2019

Enter the Headhunters Chapter 23

Chapter 23
 I had barely slept the night before due to the anticipation and excitement of my new assignment as well as Pathfinder’s current medical condition.  Dangerous, could sense my anxiety, and rub repeatedly against my legs.  After feeding him, I looked over the confines of my quarters one last time trying to ascertain if I was leaving behind anything of value.  My feline friend made short work of his breakfast as I reached into my desk drawer to retrieve a protein bar and some trail mix.  I contemplated getting a coffee but didn’t want to risk any uncomfortable stomach rumbling on the ride over.  A few minutes later, the phone in my room rang.
“Hello.”  The voice on the other end informed me that the humvee had arrived and was ready for loading. “Alright, buddy.  Say goodbye to your room.” 
I folded his travel crate and secured his working harness around him. 
“No leash today boy.  You’re gonna have to walk next to me.” 
The cheetah let out a vocal chirp and waited obediently by my left side as I picked up my duffle bag and his folded crate.  I placed them close to the door as I opened it and propped it open with my boot. After placing everything in the hallway, I flipped the inside door knob lock and closed my room door. 
“Time to go, buddy.”
Dangerous and I made the trek down the hallway to the elevator together.  Each of us had been informed that the humvees would be parked in the loading zone outside of Entrance 2C.  As the doors of the elevator opened, I was surprised to see Mayday standing holding her gear.  Having had no previous encounters with her, I had no idea where her quarters were located in the complex.  She was a more experienced Joe team member so it made sense that her room would be on a higher floor in the Pit.   
“Good morning, Sergeant.”
I dropped my bag and saluted her before entering. 
“At ease PFC, and good morning to you as well. Please pick up your bag.”
 I immediately complied and stepped into the elevator with Dangerous close to my side.
 “That’s a rather large cat you’ve got there. Is he friendly?”
“Only to people he likes.” I smirked as I replied.
“Great! Well, I’m allergic. So, if you can keep him at least ten feet away, I’d greatly appreciate it.” 
Dangerous made another chirp as I asked him to heel and as he enjoyed meeting to new people I could tell that he was displeased.
“What about dogs? Junkyard is part of the task force as well.”
“Yeah, dogs too. Pretty much anything that has fur.  She reached into her pocket and retrieved a pill bottle.
“Look, I love animals. The problem is my allergies don’t.  When I was a kid, I had a snake and fish as pets.  Less mess and no fur.  Oh, and please call me Mayday.”
She removed the cap from an unlabelled bottle and shook out two yellow pills which she placed in her mouth and swallowed. 
“Thank God for over the counter medications.” 
I smiled in response.  I too had had allergies growing up as a kid, but I was one of the lucky ones who had outgrown them.  The elevator came to a stop a short time later and the doors opened.  Out of respect for both her rank and her gender, I waited for the Sergeant to exit before me.  My parents had raised me properly in terms of manners and the military only further reinforced these practices.
Claymore, Bombstrike, and Muskrat had already loaded their bags onto their humvee and were talking nearby.  Once they saw me, they motioned for me to join them.  I also spotted Stretcher, Mace and Long Arm loading their gear onto their assigned transport.
“Good morning guys and girls.”
“Hey Buddy, I was wondering when you’d show up. You’re on our humvee.  Are you ready for this?”
“I barely slept last night, but absolutely.  So, who else is taking our ride?”
“Luckily not Mutt and Junkyard, I could really do without needing a flea bath later, but it’s the four of us and Cutter.  It was listed on the back window.”
We all enjoyed a good chuckle, and I took a minute to load my duffle bag and Dangerous’ folded crate into the rear of the Humvee. 
Major Morris emerged out from the passenger door of the second Humvee just as Mutt and Junkyard exited the building.   General Hawk gave him the thumbs up signal that everyone was present and accounted for.
“Good Morning members of the D.E.F. I’m so happy that we are all on time and ready to move out.  I just wanted to give all of you a quick briefing before we load up.  We will be taking the humvees over to Brighton Air Strip and boarding a single transport plane to our new base of operation. We should be arriving in under four hours.  Are there any questions?”
Bulletproof looked out upon the assembled team, but no one had any.
“All right troops. Fall in!”
We each boarded our respective vehicles and it was a mere twenty-minute ride to the army airstrip.  I wondered briefly why we hadn’t just flown out using the Pit’s airstrip, but I’m sure there had to be a legitimate reason for it.  After parking, we disembarked and grabbed our gear in order to board the unmarked military transport plane.  The interior was surprisingly comfortable and a bit unexpected.  Parachutes were available on the back wall in case of an emergency but the plane had been outfitted with two dozen oversized seats with built-in video monitors, a wide aisle and a larger screen at the front.
“OK D.E.F team, we will be airborne in about twenty clicks.  We are scheduled to arrive at 1300 hours, 1600 hours Eastern Time, give or take fifteen.  Light food and drinks will be available during the flight, but I highly encourage each of you to watch the training video programmed into the plane’s video monitors.  Headphones are available in the seat backs.  Sit back and enjoy the flight.” 
The major took a seat near the front of the plane and it was only a few minutes before the captain’s voice came over the intercom and asked us to find our seats and buckle up for takeoff.  I opted to watch the video after only being in flight for twenty minutes.  It was an informative narrative focusing on the mission of the D.E.F and the ongoing war on drugs, starting as far back as the 1960s.  The video concluded with profiles of some of the world’s most notorious drug lords and the location and names of their associates and cartels.  Some, like Los Muertos and the Sinaloa Cartel, I had heard of. Others like Chepe Diablo and the Headhunters were completely foreign to me.  I absorbed as much of the information as I could and when the video ended I decided to watch it a second time.  
Dangerous spent the majority of the flight pressed up as close to me as possible.  It was apparent that the great cat did not enjoy flying which was evident from his flattened ears and intermittent nervous chirping.  I rubbed him behind the ears trying and spoke softly to him trying to quell his anxiety. Eventually, he calmed and spent the rest of the flight napping soundly next to my seat.
The plane landed close to its scheduled time and I actually managed to sneak in a nap between watching the video and prepping for landing.  I felt slightly refreshed after having not slept much the previous night. As the cabin door opened, we all grabbed our gear and disembarked from the plane.  The airstrip was small and as we walked out the door and down the extended aluminum ramp, the major made an announcement, welcoming us to the Garden State.
 “Whoah, whoah! We’re in Jersey?  No way!”
“That’s right Armed. Welcome home.”
I couldn’t believe it, my task force was going to be operating out of my home state.  I looked around the airfield trying to find telltale signs of my location. It wasn’t Teterboro, I was very familiar with that airport. I thought about other smaller airstrips and figured that we were either in Morristown, Lakewood Township or Atlantic City.  The surrounding vegetation seemed to match. We boarded a modern-looking silver bus at the bottom of the ramp. After a fifteen minute ride down on a dirt road, the bus came to a stop and parked in front of a rather indistinct two level brick building. There were no identifying signs posted on the building itself, only the following alphanumeric code, N2C-T7. A heliport was visible off to the left as well as a small parking lot with a free-standing matching brick, three bay garage.  A large satellite dish surrounded by a barbwire-topped fence completed the location.  My time on the G.I.Joe team had sharpened my observation skills, and I could glean from the information, that the site was much more than it first appeared at a cursory glance. We exited the bus and followed Bulletproof through the front doors of the building.
“Welcome to N2C-T7 or base camp everyone.  Private quarters and showers are on the second floor. Two roomies per suite. Conference room, computer room, cafeteria, gymnasium, laboratory and weapon’s locker are on the main floor.  The bomb shelter is in the basement.  It’s not grand, but this is what you will be calling home for our time spent here.  Pick a room, unpack and meet me in the conference room in an hour.  Any questions?”  
“No, sir!”
Muskrat and I opted to share a bunk across the hall from Claymore and Cutter.  The ladies bunked together down the hall.  Only one room was already occupied and clearly labeled “Bulletproof director.”  I set up Dangerous’ travel crate and unpacked my personal items into the footlocker on the left.  We then flipped a coin for the top bunk, I lost.  The room was larger than our quarters at the Pit, but it did have to accommodate two people. 
“I’m going to go check out the cafeteria and the gym.  You coming?”
“I’ll be down in a few, just gotta feed the kitty.”
“Alright, I’ll wait.” 
We made our way back down to the first floor.  The floorplan was basic and the various rooms were easily identifiable.  There was a gym with a universal, an elliptical, a treadmill and a sparring mat.  The conference room was large enough to seat up to twenty people with a long table, folding chairs, and a projection screen.  Directly across the hall was a small but antiseptic laboratory.  The cafeteria at the end of the hall was more like a kitchen with a stove, refrigerator, microwave. sink, two vending machines and several tables for sitting. The amenities were not brand new, but everything was quite cozy. 
It wasn’t long before the other members of the task force joined us in the conference room.  Major Bulletproof Morris entered about ten minutes later carrying a laptop.
“Welcome once again.  I trust you all have had a chance to settle in and see the facilities.  I would like to take this opportunity to brief you on the recent goings-on.  Yesterday, one of our informants, Jimmy the Leech, was shot execution style on one of the Newark piers.  He had connections to a local drug ring known as the Headhunters. Our sources have also reported a firebombing at a small dive bar in Connecticut earlier today known to be a hangout for some of the local drug-dealing riff-raff.  At the moment, we’re not sure if the incidents are connected, but we will need to run further surveillance to see if the two are linked.”
Everyone in the room looked on as the footage streamed across the big screen at the front of the room. 
“A camera secured to a phone pole across the lot caught most of the activity but was out of range to run facial recognition software. No one was killed by the blast and we’re checking local traffic and security camera footage to see if they captured anything else.”
“Would you like me to put a drone in the air over the Newark piers? sir?”
“Negative Bombstrike.  The piers are in close vicinity to Newark International Airport and we would have to get military clearance from the state and local government in order to do that.”
“Do we have any other assets that are willing to talk? Or anyone that I can make talk?”
Claymore pounded his closed right fist into the palm of his left hand loudly.
“Right now, we have no one else willing to share intel with us, but I have a bad feeling that something big is going down.  I’ve got our resident tech specialist working on it.  Ladies and gentlemen, say hello to Hacker.” 
A tall lanky fellow with glasses, a baseball cap and a superhero shirt walked into the room.  He looked like a comic-con attendee, but with a little better hygiene.
“Hi everyone. I currently have ears in ten different known meeting places for the local drug rings.  If anyone is talking, I’ll hear them.  But right now, it’s as quiet as a church mouse out there.” 

“I hate sitting on my hands waiting for something to happen, but the hit on Jimmy was completely unforeseen.  He was virtually an underling, wasn’t much more than a gopher in the drug world.  Someone used him to send a message to someone who obviously poses a much larger threat and I need to find out who that someone is.  So in the meantime, I am asking you all to hit the web and do some research.  See if we can’t find some answers.  Mace and Long Arm take Mayday with you in the cruiser and hit the streets.  Clock’s ticking people.  Jimmy was an informant with ties to the drug world, but he was still a father, a husband, and someone willing to put his neck on the line in order to make the streets safer. So let’s move out and keep me posted!”