Chapter 4 Armed and Dangerous

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.

Chapter 3 Armed and Dangerous

Chapter 3

It didn’t take long for Gnawgahyde and Bacon to find their way back to their makeshift hideout and ham radio.  “Gnawgahyde calling Z leader. Come in Z leader.” At first there was little more than static at the end of the line. 

“Yes, what is it you, filthy poacher?  I told you never to contact me on this frequency!”  

“Well, blimey Zartan! I wouldn’t be calling you if there wasn’t a cause for concern.  I believe G.I.Joe is in the area and good ole CC needs to be made aware.  I figured it could benefit both you and the Dreadnoks if we were the ones giving him the information.” 

The Dreadnok leader’s voice clearly changed after the receipt of the initial message registered. 

“Well, I can definitely see the value of this intel.  What else can you tell me?”

“Well, it seems there is a Joe presence nearby because I just watched them rescue that info geek Mainframe and some new recruit from the transmission tower the commander had me trash the other day.”  

“Very good Gnawgahyde, keep a lookout and report back if you find out any new information immediately.  Oh! And in the meantime, I also need you to cut back on the poaching.  No need drawing any unwanted attention that could possibly lead back to me.  Zartan Out!”

The gnarly, old poacher scratched his grisly beard and scoffed at the last request, but knew that he could benefit more from keeping his ties to the rogue Dreadnok nation than being out on his own.  He would cut back on the poaching. ..at least for now.  “Come along Bacon, we’ve got some investigating to do.”

.     .     .     .     .

Back at the Pit, the Joes were busy planning a rescue mission for my Marine Corps brothers.  Mainframe and I were going to make sure everybody came home and that Cobra would be brought to justice for their atrocities.  Beach Head had contacted General Hawk to brief him about the attack on the Marine base and the presence of the Dreadnok poacher, Gnawgahyde. He also needed to make them aware of the ground forces we had encountered near the communication outpost.  I found out at this time that the artillery units were called H.I.S.S. tanks, which stood for high-speed sentries and the missile launchers were called Adders. These in addition to the F.A.N.G. choppers, fully armed negator gyrocopters, showed me just how much Cobra enjoyed using snake references to name their artillery and vehicles.

 “General Hawk has given us permission to move out and rescue your Marine brothers as soon as Flint gets here.  That one is as tough as nails and will be able to put together a plan that will safely accomplish our mission.  He is scheduled to be here within a day and then we can start to put our rescue plan into action.” 

Mainframe led me into another room that turned out to be a munitions locker.  He instructed me to take some time to handle the different weapons. Then said I should only decide upon what I could easily carry and handle.  The walls were adorned with various assault rifles and handguns.  Some were the standard military issue while others seemed quite futuristic.  As I examined the different pistols, he explained to me the benefits of some and the downsides of others.  After nearly an hour in this room, my backpack erupted in a rather disturbing yodel. The young cheetah was clearly hungry and no longer wanted to be confined to his current quarters. Mainframe suggested that we find a place for my new found friend, Dangerous, to chill out and be fed. 

The cheetah cub was young, but luckily not in need of bottle feeding.  Surprisingly, G.I.Joe has everything, including cat food.  Mainframe was quick to inform me that animal companions were not uncommon to the Joe team.  Now I was really intrigued.  This was much better than I could have ever expected.  After setting up Dangerous in a place where he would be comfortable, Mainframe instructed me that he would return in about an hour to continue my tour of the facility.  This gave me an opportunity to further bond with my fine, furry friend. I opened some of the cabinets and found some various brands of cat and dog food.  Surprisingly, I also found birdseed and crackers which were labeled with the word, “Polly.” I smirked for a second at the sheer simplicity of it “Polly want a cracker?” but gave it no further thought as I filled an empty bowl with a fresh can of chicken and liver stew.  Dangerous loved it and completely devoured it within two minutes then looked at me as if to say, "can I have some more?"  I soon caved and emptied a second can which he also graciously devoured.  I can see the effects of today have done little to dull your appetite.  The cheetah kitten simply purred.

Mainframe returned a short while later to inform me that Flint and the others had been held up and would most likely be arriving later than expected the next day.  And whether I chose to acknowledge it or not, it had been a rather long and action-packed day.  In fact what I didn’t realize due to being underground, was that it was already after 2130 hours.  

“I think it might be best if you grab some sustenance and then I can show you to your quarters.  We won’t be attacking Cobra tonight and it would be best to recharge yourself for the next few days.”

I couldn’t agree more and wished Dangerous a good night.  My new Marine friend led me down a hallway and showed me the mess hall and a room where I could bunk for the night. I thanked him for everything and asked when to expect his continued tour of the base tomorrow. 

“I’ll fetch you for breakfast at 0700 hours and we’ll go from there.” 

That night I couldn’t sleep.  I kept thinking about the events that had transpired that day.  I could see the A-10s dropping their bombs, the poacher slaughtering the animals, and the Cobra chopper firing upon me at the communication tower.  I tossed and turned for about two hours of the night, but eventually used some of Hidalgo’s meditation techniques to calm my troubled mind.

The next morning I took a refreshing shower, dressed and beat Mainframe to the mess hall.  We had some small talk about our early days in the corps and he told me how his expertise in all things computers had caught the attention of the Joe team’s higher-ups.  He had been on the active roster for about three years and said it was better than anything he had ever done as simply a Marine.  I held onto his every word and simply nodded not wanting to show just how interested I was in becoming a Joe team specialist, but I guess it could still be seen on my face.

“Hey, I’m going to make sure that you’re included on this rescue mission and when we’re all home safe and sound I’m going to put in a good word for you with Duke and the others. You have something special about you kid, and the way you worked with that abandoned cheetah cub, I’m sure you have some other hidden talents to offer the Joe team.”  

As Mainframe continued to compliment my actions on the battlefield, I found myself needing to tend to Dangerous.   I thanked him for all his kind words and asked if he would accompany me to care for the cub before we continued the tour of the Pit.  He was more than happy to comply.  We entered the cheetah’s room and I was welcomed by a loud chirp followed by purring.  I promptly doled out two small cans of cat food and a fresh bowl of water for my fuzzy friend.  I then opened the latch on his cage to let him out. Dangerous was more than happy to indulge in the breakfast feast.  After scarfing down his food, I proceeded to supply the kitten with some well-deserved rubs and scratches.  After about a half an hour, I placed him gently back in his cage and exited the room with Mainframe in tow.

 We walked down several corridors and made a couple of turns before taking an elevator to a lower level. I was completely awestruck at how it was possible to house this entire complex completely underground. What was even more amazing was the fact that as far as the military and the public was concerned; no one even knew that this place existed.  I knew that I wouldn’t be getting a complete tour of the facility since I wasn’t a member of the G.I.Joe team, but what I was being shown was absolutely amazing!  Besides, I don’t think Mainframe even knew everything that the elaborate base had to offer.

We passed several rooms with security pads on them and a pair of armed guards which we saluted before entering the next hallway. Our next stop would be the motorcade as this is where Flint would be arriving.  Although, I wasn’t exactly sure how that would work since we were underground.  Mainframe explained that an aboveground elevator system would be transporting Flint’s Jeep into the Pit complex much like the above ground helicopter pad had granted the Tomahawk access.  I could only imagine what the motorcade would look like, but when we got there, I couldn’t have been more wrong.  The ground vehicles stored there weren’t anything like the standard military issue.  Most of the tanks and humvees were fitted with laser cannons and other components that would not normally be found on Marine issued vehicles.  I was once again completely awestruck.  He led me around the room naming each of the vehicles and providing me with some of the important features each one offered.  I was really impressed with the sleek lines and futuristic looks of the VAMPs and the Wolverines as well as, the Sky Hawks and R.A.M motorcycles.  As I sat inside of each of these unique military vehicles, Mainframe spoke about some of the space-aged metals and polymers used to reinforce and strengthen their construction. Other substances provided a way to reduce weight and aid in heat reduction.  As we rounded the next corner of parked vehicles, I was greeted by a rather common-looking Joe.  His hair was dark and a little long.  He had some facial stubble, an earring and he wore a Rock band T-shirt, a black leather vest and military fatigues.  Mainframe introduced him simply as Clutch. I shook his hand and introduced myself as well.

 "With a name like Clutch, I’m guessing you’re into auto mechanics?"

 “Yup, I am one of the best grease monkeys you’ll ever find.  I can sup up any military vehicle to perform above and beyond military specs in the course of an afternoon.  I can also fix most things with a little creative engineering, a popsicle stick, a paperclip, and some gum!” 

"Really? That’s great. I’ve been turning wrenches since I was twelve."

“I got you beat bro, I started when I was nine. Built my first hot rod at eleven and won the Daytona 500 at thirteen!” 

"I’d love to hear all about it sometime."

“Well maybe if you’re lucky I’ll share my tools with you.” 

Clutch seemed a bit arrogant, but at the same time he came across as just so cool.  I found myself really immersed in our conversation until...

A series of buzzers and flashing lights signaled the movement of the main elevator shaft.  I hadn’t noticed the time, but we had spent nearly three hours just investigating the motor pool. The warning lights and sounds continued until the elevator reached the motorcade floor and the gate slowly lifted to reveal Flint’s jeep.  He arrived earlier than expected with several other members of the Joe team.  Mainframe instructed me that the others in attendance were Lady Jaye and Gung-ho.  They were definitely an interesting bunch.  Flint appeared to be the most military and straight-edge of the group.  Buttons polished, fatigues cleaned and pressed. Even his beret was on perfect.  Lady Jaye was dressed in standard combat fatigues, but she had put her own feminine touches on them by leaving the first three buttons of her shirt undone. A bit risqué, but the look on her face told you she was not one to be messed with, and if you were dumb enough to try, she would certainly make you pay dearly for your transgressions. The most flamboyant of this group was clearly a Marine, which one could easily tell by the large Marine Corps tattoo emblazoned on his exposed chest.  It was visible because he only wore an open, sleeveless vest and what appeared to be night camo fatigues.  This was a look you wouldn’t dare pull off unless you could back yourself up.  

It reminded me of an experience from my senior year of high school. There was a new transfer student who had recently joined our senior class in mid-September.  He came to school on his first day wearing a bright pink shirt and a red beret.  Not exactly a look that was in style in the early nineteen nineties. 

We all smirked upon first seeing him and could only imagine the ribbing he would soon be getting from the jocks.  Sure enough, it didn’t take long before the captain of the football team, thinking he smelled blood, made his approach.  

“Well, who do we have here?  That’s some pretty clothes you got on.”  He then made a motion symbolizing as if he was ringing a tiny bell.  The new kid ignored him at first, but Jake wasn’t going to have any of it.  He walked in closer and knocked the red beret off the new guy’s head and then promptly pushed him into a locker.  Immediately, the hallway froze.  What happened next no one could have seen coming. 

The new guy bounced off the locker and without so much as a word, balanced himself and launched a spin kick into Jake’s face, followed by a roundhouse punch and an uppercut.  When Jake’s muscle-head friends attempted to intervene, two of them ended up getting dropped in quick unison by an individual swift kick to the groin.  Jake had gone down like a sack of bricks and his two toughest friends were squealing in high-pitched voices grasping at their privates.  Without so much as a parting glance, the new kid picked up his beret, dusted it off, placed it squarely upon his head and simply walked away.  Needless to say, no one critiqued his sense of style from that day forward.  Funny thing is, he later replaced Jake as quarterback of the football team and led the team to their first State Championship. He also became the State Champion wrestler in his weight class. I still often wonder what happened to him.

  I was suddenly jarred back into reality by the sound of, “Ten-Hut!” I immediately found myself saluting the high ranking soldiers as they disembarked from the jeep and stood before us.

 “At Ease G.I.Joes!  It’s very good to see you all again.  Unfortunately, I understand that this is not under the best of situations.”  Flint’s words rang true and we all found ourselves nodding in agreement.  “Apparently, Cobra has reared their ugly head and is responsible for missing animals, an overthrown Marine base and various other acts of terrorism along the eastern African coast.  We are here to end that threat and put things back to the way they should be.  Where is Private First Class Kordos?  Front and center soldier.”  

"Sir, yes sir!"  I answered as I stepped forward from the group. 

“I understand that you and Mainframe have had the luxury of combating some Cobra troops first hand."

"We did Sir!"

 “I feel we may need to move this little get together into the war room.  Everyone follow me.” Flint’s orders were well received and I was ecstatic that we would soon be making plans to rescue not only my fellow Marines but also putting together safeguards to protect the majestic animals on the African savanna. 

We exited the motor pool area and set up shop one level up in a rather large and spacious meeting room.  The front of the war room was covered with several large monitors and computer keyboards.  From one of these large monitors, Flint pulled up an aerial map of the immediate area and asked me to show them where I had first seen Cobra’s troops and also the location where I had encountered the poacher, Gnawgahyde. In addition, he was interested in which direction the Cobra armored forces had appeared from near the communication tower.  I was more than happy to oblige.   Within a short period of time, we were able to identify several possible locations for the Cobra splinter cells and a likely location for Cobra’s base of operations.  

The fact that Cobra’s forces had overtaken the Marine outpost indicated that Cobra probably had a stronghold either nearby, or in the form of a submarine base along the coast.  

“Cobra is most likely operating some new found sonar technology that made the approach of their submarines difficult to detect.  But, we’re G.I.Joe and with the help of satellite imagery, we have been able to actually find pictures of the original Cobra subs surfacing along the shoreline.  Three large Cobra subs emerged yesterday at roughly 0710 hours and unloaded approximately 3 dozen land troops complete with Ferret, Cobra’s version of a weaponized ATV.  The shoreline footage also gave us a brief glimpse of the saboteur, Firefly, and Dr. Mindbender. Although it is unclear whether these two were part of the initial attack wave, it is clear that this was a coordinated and planned attack.” 

The intel that Flint had uncovered in a relatively short amount of time was nothing short of impressive.  We now had a who, a what and a timeframe.  

“The initial aerial footage, however, shows no sign of Cobra Commander or any other high ranking Cobra officers. The fact that old CC is nowhere to be seen leads us to believe that the Dreadnok, Zartan, is either manning this assault or possibly the mercenary and explosives expert, Firefly.  Although, PFC Kordos’ encounter with Gnawgahyde is having me lean more towards the Dreadnok camp. Regardless, I feel it is imperative that we make our move to emancipate the Marine hostages as soon as possible!”   

With that, the room sounded off in unison with a loud and excited, “Yo Joe!” 

Flint began to layout an extraction plan by breaking the Joes up into smaller squadrons and teams.  I was grouped with Beach Head, Gung-Ho and Mainframe.  It was only too cool to actually be included on the mission.  A new pilot by the name of Slipstream would be taking us up over Flint’s instructed jump site which was roughly a mile hike from the Marine outpost.  We would then rendezvous with Recondo and several other Joes in the savanna north of the outpost.  The other squadrons would be approaching from the west so that our assault would be on two fronts. 

Flint had also said that several other Joes would be approaching from the eastern shoreline, both to investigate for any other Cobra forces and to create a third possible tactical front.  This group would be manned by Wetsuit, Torpedo, and Cutter.  Our mission had two parts: espionage and extract.  Once we had enough intel on the security of the seized Marine outpost and the surrounding area, we would then have to decide on whether a small group could possibly infiltrate the compound and free the Marines, or if more reinforcements and air cover would be required.  Flint was hoping for an extraction with little or no casualties.  A third possibility would be to draw out as many of the Cobra troops as possible and then free the prisoners while the rest of the force took out the Cobra threat. 

There were several possible game plans and it reminded me of high school football.  My coach would have us watch several hours of tape on the opposing team every Monday night.  He would order us pizza and Gatorade, but we had to analyze the patterns and plays that the opposing team would use the most.  In addition, we needed to focus on how to isolate and eliminate their key running backs and receivers.  Once we were able to identify the other team’s strengths and weaknesses, Coach would then spend time at the board mapping out various plays that could be used to neutralize the visiting team. 

It was grueling at times.  Each play was given a really strange name.  The one that sticks out the most to me is the one called “gooey spaghetti.” This was our code for blitzing the opposing team’s quarterback, but it also meant that some of our defenders needed to stick as close to their intended receivers as possible to have a chance at intercepting a fast pass.  If “gooey spaghetti” resulted in an interception, someone would then yell “shark!”  This would signal all the defenders to begin blocking ahead of the receiver in a “V” formation in an attempt to score a touchdown off of the interception.  I smiled at my memory of high school football but quickly brought my thoughts back to the meeting at hand.

Flint rattled off a couple of code words to remember in terms of the course of action we would take based upon the chain of events as they unfolded.  The meeting in the war room took several hours.  We were given the rest of the day to train and to memorize and review the extraction plans. That night, I met up with Mainframe, Clutch and several other Joes in the mess hall.  I finished off the night by checking in on my favorite kitty and then once again, I was off to dreamland.

I slept better the second night, but still awoke early knowing that we were to meet on the jets at 0700 to prepare for our scheduled parachute drop.  After a quick shower at 0500, I decided that I couldn’t leave without checking on my new furry companion.  It had only been several hours since I had left the ball of fluff the night before, but upon entering the room, an excited little kitten popped his head up from his cozy, little cage with a loud chirp.  I walked over, unlatched the door, and reached my hand into his cage.  My hand was greeted by a warm, wet sandpaper-like tongue and loud purring.  Oh! you’re so cute! I’ve missed you my little Dangerous friend.  With that, the cheetah cub rolled over on his back and began to donkey-kick my hand with his back legs.  I greeted the attack with some more well-deserved belly rubs.  The kitten stopped briefly to lick my hands and then he was back at the wrestling.  I was in love.

After placing him back in his cozy confinement with some breakfast, I made my way back to the munitions’ room in order to garner my required equipment. After properly gearing up, I hot-footed it to the mess hall for a quick bite to eat and then I was on my way to the hanger for deployment.

Chapter 2 Armed and Dangerous

Chapter 2

I could hear the emergency sirens for only a few more minutes before the enemy subsequently shut them down.  No one had foreseen this attack, and there were no reinforcements were on the horizon.  How did this happen?  Was it my fault?  How did Private Ruiz, or anyone else for that matter, not see the signs before me?  There were too many questions and now was not the time to pass blame on anyone.  I was in hostile territory and the longer it took me to reach my destination, the more likely that my fellow Marines would suffer, or worse…. possibly die.  I needed to keep myself hidden from enemy eyes if I was going to succeed.  After crawling on my belly for nearly a mile and a half, I decided it was finally safe for me to stand up.  The surrounding savanna was a disaster.  Dead or dying animals littered the grassy expanse.  Various birds of prey were already gorging themselves on the spoils of our scourge.  It was then that I saw the true horror of it all.  Many of the fallen animals had been skinned or worse.  A majestic white rhino appeared to have been plundered solely for its horn.  Several zebras were skinned of their striped hides. It was all so terrible and my stomach turned at the sheer horror of it all.  As disgusted as I was feeling, I continued on with my quest moving closer and closer to my intended destination.  Within minutes, I began to see the outline of the communication tower's antenna as it started to poke up on the nearby horizon. 

It was then that I saw him out of the corner of my ear.  He was a dirty and unkempt visage of a man sporting a rather unruly mustache and goatee. He wore a spotted, sleeveless cheetah vest, a broad-rimmed, yellow safari hat and was carrying a machete in his right hand with a longbow slung over his left shoulder.  I actually felt like I smelled him before I saw him.  He was bent over the body of what appeared to be a cheetah and was stuffing two cheetah cubs into a brown gunny sack.  At his side was a rather large and brutish looking warthog with a nose ring, tattoo and pierced ear. 

I was almost immediately enraged and found myself yelling in his direction. "Hey! Get away from those animals!"  It took a moment for him to look up from the task at hand to acknowledge me. 

“And who are you that’s gonna be makin me,” he snarled in reply.  

"I’m a Marine and you, are in violation of more than a few international wildlife conservation laws!"  

What was I doing?  I needed to get to the communications tower and radio for help, but I couldn’t ignore this terrible poacher.  

“Laws? Bahhh! Alright mate, I reckon you’re looking to start a fight with old Gnawgahyde then?”   

I reached for my handgun as quickly as possible.  Imagine my dismay when I could not locate it. Much to my chagrin, it must have slipped out of its holster during my mile-long crawl. I was mortified, and I had no time to waste, as the despicable man came upon me slashing fiercely and wildly with his machete.  It was a good thing that I had actually studied some Jiu-Jitsu in my early teens, as it would not be uncommon for someone to lose their head or hands to this type of weapon. I quickly tore off my rucksack and created a shield between the two of us.  As his machete dipped down to the ground past my pack, I released my right hand and clocked the poacher in the jaw as hard as I could.  The blow stunned him long enough for me to then kick the machete out of his hands.

“Oh, the wee lad has got him some spunk eh? I like that in me opponents!” he teased through gnarled teeth.  

"I’ve got a little more than some spunk!"  With that response, I turned around and unloaded a combination of left and right roundhouse punches followed up with two fast uppercuts.  He began to fall backward and before he hit the ground, he sharply whistled. As I attempted to move in closer to apprehend him, I had only a split second to respond to the three hundred pound warthog that was now barreling towards me. 

“Go on an git him, ehhh Bacon!” he commanded as he clumsily staggered into the taller grass.  I quickly grabbed my bowie knife to stab at the enraged beast and narrowly missed losing part of my arm as it clambered past me.  

The creature turned on its heels and made a final attempt at bowling me over when my knife connected solidly with its thick hide.  It squealed in pain and I noticed a crimson trail of blood as it promptly ran off in the direction its owner had staggered.  I took a deep breath, steadied myself and surveyed the area looking for any signs of movement in the tall grass, any indication that the horrible killer was still about,  but I could find no sign of Gnawgahyde or his plus-sized pork chop. 

Well, that’s something that doesn’t happen every day.  How many people can say they survived an attack by a wild boar and a deranged poacher wielding a machete?  I walked cautiously off in the original direction that I had first taken notice of him. I wanted... no, I needed to check in the bag he had clearly dropped prior to our altercation.

As I got closer to the area my brain began to process the scene. In the grass lay the mother cheetah, clearly she had died as a result of a well-placed arrow and some menacing bite marks.  No doubt a result of that overgrown ham sandwich.  I felt terrible.  How could anyone do this to such a beautiful and majestic animal?  Then I saw the rucksack.  It was oddly still.  I felt a pit deep in my stomach as I forced myself to open it and peer inside.  Part of me really didn’t want to, as I was expecting the worse for the cheetah cubs that had been tossed inside not so long ago.  I repositioned the bag on the ground and slowly pulled back the edges.  One cub didn’t move at all despite my prodding, but the second one was clearly alive and well.  As I gestured to pick him up, he growled and attempted to bite me.  

"Well, aren’t you just a dangerous little kitty?"  I teased him a bit as I held out my hand a bit closer.  He sniffed it, pawed at me, and finally allowed me to pick him up.  "O.K., little buddy.  What shall we do with you?  I can’t very well leave you here.  Sadly, your mommy is not coming back, and your brother or sister is...well... gone."

 I fought hard to hold back the tears in my eyes.  I felt angered and pained by both the mother’s murder and the orphaned cubs.  "

So. . . I guess you’re coming with me."

I scooped up my fallen knapsack and made some room for him inside by removing my shovel and some other non-essential items.  I offered the cub some of my dried officer rations which he reluctantly ate. I then proceeded to dig a hole in order to bury his mom and sibling.  No one’s coming back to steal their hides! This much I can ensure.  I said a few words imploring upon the higher power to grant them eternal life and peace. Oddly enough, I felt myself attempting to channel their spirit energy as I had witnessed Hidalgo doing on more than one occasion.  It was, in a way, very calming as it helped to quell the anger the poacher had instilled in me.

"So..What am I going to call you?"

 The little cub had clearly put on a spirited display.  Proving that one day he or she would be a formidable foe.  "How about Dangerous?"  The cheetah cub cocked its head to one side and purred at the name.  "Alright then, Dangerous is it!  And together people can call us Armed and Dangerous.  I like it!  It’s got a good ring to it and I feel it definitely suits us."  I then scooped up my backpack, cheetah inside, and headed back in the direction of the radio antenna.

I made quick work of the remaining two miles to the communication station.  But when I finally did get there, things only got worse.  Apparently, Cobra or Gnawgahyde had gotten there before me.  The place had been trashed.  It would easily take me several hours to put together anything that would even remotely resemble a communicator, and there was no guarantee that it would even work.

“Hey! Hold it right there soldier.  Name, rank and serial number!” I turned in the direction from which the order was given regarding a fellow Marine. However, he was not one I recognized.  I quickly saluted and responded. "Private First Class Kordos 131 446 23334 United States Marine Corps Sir!"

  “At ease soldier! The name’s Mainframe and I’m with the G.I.Joe team, but first and foremost I’m a Marine. OoRah!”   

"OoRah!" I quickly responded to his proclamation, but I couldn’t believe it.  A member of the G.I.Joe elite force was actually here in my midst? And he was a Marine? There was no way he could possibly turn down helping me to rescue the rest of my platoon.

“How much do you know about comms soldier?”  I mulled it over for a bit.  Computers and radio waves really weren’t my thing.  The closest experience I had to splice together a radio system was installing a car stereo.  As a teenager with more than one old car, I had had quite a bit of experience there. So.. How hard could it really be?  Black to black, red to red, check for power and ground, etc.

I cleared my mind, refocused, and responded shortly afterward.  "Not much, but I’m a quick study, sir!"

“Stop calling me sir!  We’re on the same team.  I need you to trace back those wires in that wall and try to splice together as many as possible.  I also need to verify that we still have power.”   

I did as I was asked.  Surprisingly, I was able to find some unused butt end connectors and electrical tape amongst the debris.  From there I got to splicing and taping.  I left my backpack on not wanting to draw any attention to my furry, new friend inside.  And he seemed calm and quiet as long as he could feel my warm body under and against him. 

“So do you have a handle?” Mainframe asked.  

"A what?"

  “A moniker? A code name soldier?  Doesn’t the Marine Corps do that anymore?”  

"I think that’s more of an Air Force thing Mainframe."

“Nonsense, you need a code name pronto!”   

My mind immediately turned to the cheetah in my backpack and the conversation we had had just a little while ago. 

"Fine! I go by Armed."

“Armed? That’s a strange code name soldier.” 

"And Dangerous," as I slipped off and unzipped my backpack to expose the baby cheetah inside.  

“That’s’ an interesting companion you have there but OK…... Armed and Dangerous it is. So tell me, soldier, what did you see out there?”

I thought back to my morning and recounted to seeing the plumes of dark smoke on the horizon.  I guess you can say it’s been a crazy sort of day.  

“Welcome to combat. Things can get really crazy, pretty fast out there.” 

"Agreed. Well, it started off with what looked like a wildfire and a stampede of animals.  I remember sounding the alarm as a precaution.  Then the soldiers in blue appeared riding ATVs.  A short while later, the blue A-10s appeared overhead and started dropping bombs on us."

“Wait; did you say soldiers in blue?”  

"Yeah, and their faces were covered by black scarves or bandanas.  They also had some really weird weapons.  My brothers at arms were able to stave off the initial wave, but once the incendiaries started exploding, everything went to pot.  My teammate Hollow Point was picking some of them off with his sniper rifle before my tower came crashing down.  I initially panicked, but when we saw the enemy storming the gates, my CO said I needed to get away and find reinforcements. So, I crept through the tall savanna grass for the first mile or so.  That’s where I found the dismembered animals and ran into the poacher.  He called himself, gnaw and hide."

  “Do you mean Gnawgahyde? Grungy and smelly looking guy with a giant hog as a pet?” 

"Yeah, that’s him."

“Interesting, so Cobra is definitely in the area.  I wonder if the presence of Gnawgahyde means Zartan and the Dreadnoks are nearby as well, or if it’s just a coincidence.”  

"Whoa! Slow down. Cobra?  Dreadnoks?  How is it that I am a Marine and have never heard of either of these factions?"

  “Well, that’s just it.  Usually, Cobra and the Dreadnoks operate more covertly.  Cobra is known to have a localized presence in Europe and the Dreadnoks have been more of an Australian faction. The fact that they are operating so openly means that Cobra Commander is stepping up his game.  We seriously need to get these comms working so I can report back to Duke, General Hawk and the rest of the team.” 

With that, we resumed our cutting and splicing, but only after we had secured the entrance from unwanted visitors.  It was a slow go at first, but in about an hour we had a functioning radio. The question now was: Would anyone hear us?

“Armistice 22, Armistice 22.  Does anyone read me?”  Nothing. Just radio static.  Mainframe began to sift through the available bandwidths, but they all picked up nothing.  “We need to check the wiring to the antenna.” Mainframe instructed as he continued to switch through the available channels.  I began to follow the antenna wire up through the wall as it disappeared into a conduction tube.  
"I don’t see anything out of the ordinary inside Mainframe.  It’s quite possible the link is severed topside.  One of us needs to go up on the roof to check it out.  It should probably be me since I don’t know the proper radio code."
 “Yeah, and I’m really not that much of a fighter if we encounter hostiles.” I nodded in agreement. As I un-barricaded the entrance, I remembered another experience from my childhood. 

I was roughly sixteen years old when my friend Keith and I decided to go and investigate an abandoned factory.   It was really cool.  Outside there was a small fenced-in area topped with barbed-wire that housed an old railroad oil tanker car.  The rusted, old tanker car’s paint was still mostly black and loomed menacingly at us from just behind the fence.  We decided that we wanted to take a closer look.  So we used the knowledge we had gained from watching television to clear the barbed wire and get safely to the other side.  It was kind of simple.  All we did was throw our denim jackets over the barbed-wire and then up and over we went.  We thought we were so cool, even though the whole time we kept watching for police cars.  We definitely didn’t want to get charged with trespassing.  There were signs all over the fence saying: Do Not Enter, No trespassing, Area Under Surveillance.  We simply laughed it off.  We knew the security cameras hadn’t worked in years. It was evidenced by the one on the building wall that had been knocked off and only hanging on by a wire. We climbed up on the tank car using the wrought iron ladders and balanced on the catwalks.  We felt like we were on top of the world.

 Shortly after, we rescaled the fence, cleared the barbed wire a second time, and retrieved our coats.  What an adrenaline rush it was! It was too bad cell phone cameras didn’t exist at the time, because it would have made for some awesome selfies.

  Then we ventured inside the abandoned factory by way of a partially open side door.  It was so eerie and quiet.  I swear we thought we saw ghosts in there.  It was so weird.  It was like time had literally stopped. It reminded us of the story of Chernobyl in Russia where houses were left with full course dinners still set on the tables. Everything that had been used by the employees was still in there: desks, phones, file folders, even a functional forklift in the loading bay.  The electricity still worked even though most of the lighting had been damaged and many of the bulbs shattered. There was even an old clock radio that could be seen still flashing 12 o ‘clock over and over again.  We explored every room of that abandoned factory looking for things we could possibly pawn, and we went there several more times after that in the future.  Not realizing that every time we could very easily have been walking into a trap containing dangerous vagrants or possibly rabid and wild animals.  Hell! We didn’t care.  We were sixteen and invincible!

I called upon some of that innate sixteen-year-old adrenaline now to force myself outside the communication tower.  I immediately scanned the horizon for hostiles.  It seemed clear and I began the scale the outside ladder to the top.  I was nearing the roof when I heard then spotted the blades of a helicopter off on the horizon.  I immediately looked for a place to conceal myself not knowing if it was friendly or hostile.  Too late! The helicopter seemed to turn almost immediately and headed in my direction. Damn! I needed to get to the top and check the antenna connection.  I had to move fast otherwise the chopper would have enough time to circle back here and possibly wipe me out.  I could hear the chopper blades beginning to get louder in the distance.  I finally made it to the flat roof and I could then clearly see the problem.  The wire connection had been clearly severed from the base of the antenna.  I pulled out my knife in order to pull up the fasteners holding down the remains of the antenna wire in order to reattach it.

  The perspiration began beading up on my brow as the mystery chopper continued getting closer.  The first few fasteners came up easily and allowed me to gain some much needed slack.  My hands shook as I frantically tried to reconnect the wire; the whole time I could hear the inbound chopper.  Too late!  The smattering of bullets off the tin roof was my first warning that the chopper indeed was not friendly.  Luckily, I wasn’t hit.  The chopper cut a wide left and would take a couple more minutes to make the full turn and return to shower me in another round of bullets.  I moved even faster and was able to pull the wire the extra foot needed to reach the base of the antenna.  I just managed to attach the wire as the second volley of bullets rained down upon me.

I quickly rolled back towards the direction of the roof ledge and threw myself over.  I caught the railing of the ladder halfway down and saved myself from the complete devastation of the fall.  I could feel that my left shoulder was quite possibly out of its socket, but I needed to get back inside and let Mainframe know to send the distress call again.  I gritted my teeth, descended the last several feet to the ground, and cleared the doorway just as the third round of bullets pelleted the side of the building.               "Mainframe!  Try the call again!  We’ve got company."
“I’m on it!  Armistice 22!  Does anyone read me?”  
“Armistice 22 this is Crow’s Nest 13, what’s your 20?”  
“I’m stationed at Lat: 1°16′59″ S Long: 36°49′00″ E and we’ve got Cobra hostiles.  I repeat we’ve got incoming Cobra hostiles!”  
“Armistice 22, we are sending reinforcements as you speak.  LT is inbound with a Tomahawk ready for extraction and to lay down cover fire.  Hold tight! Over.”  
"How long before they get here?"
 “Listen for the sound of heavy thunder and you’ll know the answer.  In the meantime, I found us some rifles with ammunition to take care of that pesky Cobra F.A.N.G.”  
I quickly reached for the rifle from Mainframe’s extended hand and we secured the door.  Mainframe suggested we slide out the bottom floor window and avoid the front door completely as soon as we heard the incoming blades of the Tomahawk. 

The fourth volley of bullets peppered the outside of the building and we hid firmly behind a sturdy desk and file cabinet.  Then we heard it.  A definite Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! The much anticipated and welcome sound of the approaching Tomahawk’s blades was accompanied by the sounds of machine gun fire.  We slide out the back window just in time to see a trail of thick, black smoke billowing out of the Cobra F.A.N.G. as it began tail spinning to the ground under a barrage of G.I.Joe bullets.  The pilot promptly ejected and pulled the chord on his parachute. We watched as he defiantly continued firing upon our rescue ride with his handgun during his descent.  Our victory seemed short-lived as we heard the sounds of new cannon fire from close by. 

The Tomahawk threw us down a rope ladder and Mainframe and I were quick to grab on.  The winch carried us upwards into the safety of the chopper, but for a few moments, I still feared for my life as the enemy’s artillery began to roll in closer around us.  There were odd looking black tanks and a couple of smaller blue six-wheeled vehicles that resembled miniature dual Scud missile launchers.  Luckily, those vehicles did not have enough time to lock onto our position and fire.  The Tomahawk was out of the area almost as quickly as it appeared, and several F-14 Tomcats streaked past us, lighting up the enemy ground troops below.   The sounds of enemy shots turned into screams of agony as more than one of the modified surface to air missiles scored direct hits.  The skirmish was over as quickly as it started as Mainframe and I was being whisked away from the battle.

I was greeted with the thumbs up sign from the helicopter’s pilot, Lift Ticket. There were also two other crew members who had helped me into the chopper.  One was wearing camouflage fatigues, a green shirt, and a green ski mask.  The other wore a bright red and white suit and resembled more of a medic than a soldier. It was extremely loud on board, but I knew I needed to strap myself in and hold on.  The flight back took us over the savanna and into a more remote almost desert area where we began to descend.  I peered out the side of the Tomahawk expecting to see a landing pad but saw none.  As we continued our descent, the ground below began to move as a platform rose up from the sand and a large hatch opened.  This provided the helicopter with a secret place to touch down.   
Upon landing, we exited the chopper as the dual blades slowed to a gradual halt.  Mainframe led me with the other crew members to a side door.  Upon walking through, I was frisked, my gear was immediately taken from me, and the soldier with the green face mask leveled his gun at me. 

“Sorry soldier got to follow protocol!” the soldier in green barked at me.  
“At ease Beach Head, he’s a friend!  If it wasn’t for his valor and determination, I might not have been able to even contact you,” came Mainframe’s defense.  
“We can’t always be so sure! What outfit are you with soldier and be quick about it!”  
"The Marine Corps Sir!" But as I began to rattle off my name, rank and serial number he waved me off."
“At ease Private First Class.  Why didn’t you say he was a fellow brother in blue?”  Mainframe could only shrug as Beach Head lowered his weapon.  They handed me back my equipment and I immediately checked on the safety of Dangerous.  The cheetah cub was still happily curled up inside my backpack showing little signs of distress.

I was relieved and as we began walking, they started to ask me about how I had come to assist Mainframe. It was then that I remembered my original mission.  I needed G.I.Joe to come back with me to save Hidalgo, Hollow Point and the rest of my unit.  As I began to recount the details of the attack, I could already see the wheels of a plan beginning to develop on the faces of my new found friends and allies.  I felt confident that the Joes would not hesitate in helping me to save my friends.