Chapter 4
The Dreadnok leader mulled over the information he had received from Gnawgahyde for quite some time. Zartan was ever the opportunist and he was always plotting at least five steps in front of everyone else. He worked for Cobra, but only as a mercenary, and that partnership was one of convenience. If the job could benefit him, he would entertain it for a nominal fee. If it was something that didn’t interest him at first, he would ponder the details in order to determine the long-term effects the mission could have. If something was of interest to any of his employers, he needed to know why and how it could serve his interests as well. The Dreadnok leader was always scheming and planning for the future. That was part of the charm of the master of disguise, Zartan.
“How can I spin this new information about the G.I.Joe team to further benefit the Dreadnoks?” He spoke the words aloud in the confines of his private office. “I’m sure that the Cobra Commander would pay handsomely for the intel that filthy poacher has obtained, but still….I can’t tell him everything. Decisions, decisions. Do I tell him of the impending attack? Or should I simply pick Cobra’s carcass after their possible defeat?” The mercenary leader smiled wildly as he had once again solved his own dilemma. He reached for the microphone that was wired to Cobra’s secure channel.
On a different front, Gnawgahyde was not about to let the possible new Joe recruit hold a victory over him. And nobody, nobody takes from Gnawgahyde what he has rightfully stolen. He wanted those cheetah cubs. His buyer needed those cheetah cubs. So, he would have those cheetah cubs.
“Come along Bacon, we have some G.I.Joeseys to find and a couple of cuddly kitties to steal back!” Bacon snorted and excitedly joined his owner as he made his way back out onto the Kenyan savanna. He had recorded the direction the Joe chopper took, had watched as that rotten Marine boarded it and more importantly...he had seen the location of the entrance to the Pit. Now he just needed to find out how he was going to get in and out with his prize. Gnawgahyde needed those baby cheetahs to fulfill the order of one of his private, wealthy, connoisseurs. And since the number of cheetahs in the wild was already dwindling due to over poaching and habitat loss, he wasn’t about to just let his potential cash cow slip away. He hated having to do things twice.
After spending the last two days mapping out the immediate area around the Joe base, he didn’t want to attempt an infiltration too soon. The less his victims knew of his actions the better. He also knew that if he waited, they would assume that he had given up at any retribution and that no one had seen them enter the secret subterranean stronghold. Well, G.I.Joe would be wrong on both of those counts.
* * * *
That following morning, we all boarded our assigned aircraft and were enroot to my former Marine base which was currently being held captive by Cobra forces. Slipstream had covered the several miles to the specific jump zone quickly. It wasn’t long before we were given the all clear signal. I checked my parachute and reserve, grabbed my gear, clicked the safety on my rifle and handgun and prepared for my turn to jump. Beach Head jumped first. Followed by me, then Mainframe and finally Gung-Ho. The initial adrenaline rush of the jump was awesome. It reminded me of the first time I had gone zip lining above the Costa Rican tropical rainforest in Fortuna. The air was whipping past my face and through my hair as I had felt totally free. The difference between H.A.L.O. jumping (high altitude low opening) and zip lining was the feeling of weightlessness. I quickly refocused on the mission at hand and pulled my chute at the appropriate altitude to reduce our risk of detection. I coasted slowly and silently to the ground below, landed lightly and quickly gathered up my chute. Part one of our extraction plan had been a success.
Beach Head had insisted on silence once we landed and immediately switched to using silent military hand signals. I recognized the sign for "Eyes up and move out." We didn’t hesitate. We were several clicks from the assigned rendezvous with Recondo and the other Joes. I wanted to get there as soon as possible. We sifted our way through the tall grass trying to remain as invisible as possible. The success of our mission hinged upon our ability to maintain the element of surprise. I was excited and nervous all at the same time. The sooner we got to Recondo, the sooner we could end the repression of my fellow marines. The task of navigating the high grass was fairly uneventful until Beach Head signaled for everyone to halt and get down. Immediately, we all flattened ourselves out and stopped moving. Above us flew a small squadron of odd, bubble-shaped, single-manned crafts. They were equipped with spotlights to help them illuminate the dense grass below even though we were quickly approaching mid-morning and it was quickly getting bright out. I had never seen anything like these things before. I would later find out that the strange UFOs were actually Cobra Flight Pods A.K.A Trouble Bubbles. They circled back over our position one additional time, but we managed to remain undetected.
Roughly twenty minutes later, we caught up to Beta Team. We were greeted by a well-camouflaged man wearing a wide-brimmed Boonie hat and sporting a rather eccentric moustache. He smelled a little ripe; as if he had been out in the jungle for a while, but he couldn’t nearly match the stench of the poacher I had encountered a few days earlier. To his right was another peculiar looking fellow wearing mirrored sunglasses, a Boonie hat with one upturned side, who was carrying what looked like a weed wacker on steroids. They were introduced to me as Recondo and Pathfinder, both were accredited as being extreme jungle environment specialists.
The meet site had some slight tree coverage and we were able to have some short verbal conversation. They told us we were waiting for one other member who had left to scout the area between us and the captured Marine compound. He was identified simply as Ambush, and I was hoping that our team combined with these others would soon prove true to his namesake. Shortly thereafter, a tall guy with a fierce red beard appeared from amongst the tall grass.
Ambush approached our growing infiltration team to dispense some valuable intel. He informed us that an additional forty enemy soldiers had arrived overnight and Cobra had set up additional perimeter guards in addition to the Trouble Bubble fly overs. It seemed almost as if they might be expecting us, or perhaps it was just their way of better securing their spoils. Although we had expected some degree of resistance, Flint had not anticipated the level of security that Ambush was describing. It was beginning to look like the rescue mission would likely involve an altercation. The problem with this however, was the risk of casualties. Mainframe sent the information to base command and later received a text from Flint telling us to lay low for a bit while they re-assessed our options moving forward. In the meantime, Ambush would continue to gather intelligence about the western edge of the compound and the northern wall.
We needed to get inside and I was getting more and more anxious. As my anxiety level continue to climb I suggested an alternative plan. It might be dangerous, but I offered to make my way back to the Marine base and get myself captured. There would be a hidden video feed in my boot, so the whole encounter would be transmitted back to base camp. This would allow us not only a way in, but also an idea of the condition of the prisoners and the total number of Cobra operatives inside. It knew the whole ploy would be risky, but I really wanted to help my old squadron. In addition, I knew the best way in and around the base having been stationed there for the last six months. If I portrayed my capture as the individual rescue plan of a desperate soldier, it could possibly work; as long as they didn’t just shoot first and ask questions later. Beach Head presented the plan to Flint who said he would consider it, but only if they could ensure my protection.
A short while later the modifications to my infiltration were laid out. Flint wanted us to capture and have one of us impersonate a Cobra sentry. That way I wouldn’t be the only one on the inside and someone could monitor my safety. So, we were off to capture a Cobra trooper. Lucky for us, there was no shortage of them and Ambush had been studying their shifts and meeting sites. He was also essential in gathering their code words and hand signals. In my mind, he would be the best choice for the impersonator, but Beach Head disagreed. He insisted on someone with less facial hair and who was a tad bit shorter. Pathfinder was his first choice to basically be my guardian angel, both during the capture and on the inside. As we continued to outline the key points of our plan, I was taken slightly aback when a Cobra trooper walked up to us from the side. I instinctively went for my rifle, but Beach Head quickly placed his hand over the muzzle pushing it downwards and told me to be at ease.
I couldn’t believe it, while we were discussing the who, whats and wheres, Pathfinder had already made a capture and donned a Cobra disguise. Our plan was coming together nicely.
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