And so it begins

Started decorating the lawn for my favorite holiday, Halloween.  By the time I'm done there will be bats, zombies, groundbreakers, and skeletons galore.  More pictures to come.

Chapter 6 Armed and Dangerous

Chapter 6

Pathfinder had managed to blend in with the Cobra sentries seemingly without much effort.  Since his new comrades wore face masks almost constantly, he didn’t worry much about being recognized or found out.  He had also had enough time to scope out most of the info he needed prior to capturing the Cobra guard he was impersonating.  He had gleaned the information about where he slept, who he was referred to as, and what his typical daily routine entailed.  He was referred to as simply recruit number 413.  His bunk was in the northern barracks, bed number 212 and his daily routine entailed sweeping the savanna for three hours a day, engaging in hand to hand combat training for two hours a day, and patrolling the perimeter of the compound for three hours at the end of the day.  His daily schedule really didn’t change much and he reported to Officer 5 twice a day.  Everything was very specific and regimented.  Guards had to be on time and if they missed a scheduled sign in, there were severe consequences.  Some of these could be quite terrible.  An additional assignment that late reporters might receive was croc cleanup.  This meant wading waist deep into the crocodile-filled moat with a net for scooping out the excessive poop.  The biggest problem with this though was the gators were always hungry, and there were always a couple lurking below the surface of the murky water.  One recruit had actually lost his arm a few months back at another outpost, and Dr. Mindbender was working feverishly on outfitting him with a new robotic replacement.  Needless to say, most soldiers reported on time, if not early, for their assigned tasks.

Being a Cobra grunt was almost as daunting as being in the U.S. Army.  In contrast, it was really impersonal and there was only a little discussion between the groundlings. Respect and a code name were earned, not guaranteed.  The lower ranks were very ambitious though and back-stabbing was not uncommon. Every night before turning in, every member of the Cobra team had to either attend a formal sit down where they were addressed via satellite by Cobra Commander himself and if they could not attend the live feed, they had to watch a pre-recorded session.  This was NOT optional!

Pathfinder was able to learn a lot in a very short period of time.  Every day during his savanna sweep, he would deliver intelligence to the Joe team.  The mission was, however, looking like it would be taking a little longer than initially anticipated due to the overwhelming and unpredicted organization of the terrorist threat.  It was almost as if someone had tipped them off about a possible jailbreak. I could only imagine that it had been that wretched poacher.  He had to be responsible for the added security details and visible show of force. Or perhaps, we had simply underestimated the threat from the start. 

It had been three days since my initial incarceration and needless to say, my fellow Marines were beginning to doubt whether I had told them the truth.  It took me back to the time in grade school when I had spotted one of my childhood rock heroes at a local music store and actually had a conversation with them.  At the end of our meeting, I had even procured an autograph. I had been so excited to tell my friends the next day, but no one believed me.  They kept telling me that I was a really good storyteller and kept questioning the validity of the signature. They insisted that there was no way he could have possibly been at the local “Tower Records” when they all knew he lived in Hollywood, California.

 A few days later, I finally convinced a couple of my friends to go back to the music store with me to ask the manager if I was indeed telling the truth.  When we got there and I asked the manager, he did one better for me.  He not only confirmed my story to my friends but rolled back the security camera footage that showed me and my favorite rock star having a conversation in the store aisle and the actual autograph signing.  He even offered to make me a copy of the video, even though it lacked audio, to secure the memory for the rest of my life.  My friends were totally shocked and I became one of the coolest people ever back at school for about a week or so. 

Although I had convinced them, it still bothered me that they hadn’t simply believed me from the start.  It wasn’t like I had a reason to lie.  So here I was again in a similar instance.  I had told my brother Marines that help would be coming, but little had happened since my arrival.  The guards still took one of us a day to try and forcefully coerce the purpose of our mission out of us.  The hunger in our bellies continued to grow as the rations for prisoners became virtually non-existent.  It had been a full day since the last time I had seen Pathfinder in disguise.  He had nodded affirmatively at me but had not made any verbal communication with me in days.  I had to believe in the promise of the mission.  G.I.Joe would not let me and the rest of my unit continue to suffer at the hands of this terrorist group.  I needed to stay positive and hope that the strike would happen soon.

*     *     *     *     *

Cobra Commander was quite happy with the progress his strike team had made.  They had made easy work of the “few and the proud” as they liked to be called.  The terrorist mastermind had anticipated most of what had already occurred, and his contact within the Dreadnoks had served him well in alerting him to the impending Joe attack.  The world would soon learn that resisting the demands of Cobra was NOT an option. 

“My dear Zartan, how great it is to see you again,” the commander purred.  “Your information hasss been mossst useful in sssecuring our presenccce in the region.  It will only be a matter of time before we crush doessss missserable G.I.Joesss.”

“Of course most esteemed Cobra Commander.  The Dreaknoks and I are honored to be included and continue to be your most loyal and humble allies in this group venture. Please let me know if there are any other matters that need my immediate attention, and I will be more than happy to take care of them for you according to our current agreement.”

The master of disguise had a way with words and as he studied the commander for any signs of distrust, he bowed courteously.  If Cobra Commander was on to his scheming, it wasn’t apparent in his body language over the satellite transmission.  Zartan was after all an excellent actor.  Sometimes he was so good at his role that he forgot where the truth ended and the lies began.  He needed to keep the head of Cobra on his side, but at the same time, he did not want to give up all the personal stakes he had in the region.  The Dreadnoks were slowly becoming a well-known player amongst the terrorist groups of the world and as far as he could tell, this “Cobra” was a mere upstart.  In reality, most of the world had never even heard of them, but this too was what bothered the gang leader. “Who was conning who?” 

“Your hard work and dedication are much appreciated Zartan. You will be rewarded mossst handsssomely if your intel leadsss to the ultimate defeat of G.I.Joe.” 

“Not ‘if,’ dare I say Commander, but ‘When’ G.I.Joe is defeated.” Zartan interjected.

Cobra Commander held up his hand briefly to silence him. The mercenary knew his place and promptly stopped speaking.

“There isss definitely a placcce for you and your devoted Dreadnoksss in Cobrasss legionsss.  And I foresee many lucrative joint endesvorsss. ” 

Zartan bowed once again to the supreme Cobra leader and obediently waited to be dismissed.  “I will expect your next report at 2200 hoursss.” The commander hissed as the video feed cut out.  

The biker boss could finally fully react.  He rolled his eyes dramatically and began to weave the strings of his next plan.  How he hated the incessant ridiculous hissing of his new found ally.  However, he knew better than to underestimate the ruthless and extremely dangerous serpent of a man.  He needed to find an insurance plan to ensure the safety of his exploits in the southern hemisphere.  But knowing so little about his new employer was making the task difficult.  As much as the master of disguise liked a good challenge, this situation was weighing heavily upon him.  If Cobra Commander found out his true intentions in the region... he would definitely not approve. 

He turned in his swivel chair and faced his changing room.  The extreme mimic had an idea.  As was the case with many instances in his life, Zartan needed to become someone else.  He had spent many years studying his subjects: Using hidden video cameras to catch subtle movements, audio bugs in apartments and phones to pick up on voice nuances, and hacking computers to discover their close friends and family.  The master of disguise was an expert at his art, but many years of this activity had left him feeling as if he no longer knew who he was.  A psychiatrist might classify him with extreme multi-personality disorder or simply as a sociopath.  Either way, Zartan would never let that diagnosis interfere with his plans.  He saw the positives of his condition.  Never would emotion cloud his judgment.  Years of enduring in the harshest of situations had taught him that.  He had become as cold and calculated as many of his former employers. The only room for emotions came from imitating his marks.  How the master of disguise enjoyed losing himself, if ever so briefly, in the newly acquired identity of his targets. 

The mercenary swiveled back to his computer screen, hovering the mouse over a hidden icon.  A left click opened a file folder and inside a second link opened a video feed of a person that he became immediately absorbed with.  G.I. Joe would never even know he was there.  His contingency plan was apparent and could soon be in full effect should the need arise.

Chapter 5 Armed and Dangerous

Chapter 5

Gnawgahyde had spent the last three days scoping out the area around the Joe base.  While conducting his intel, he noticed that no other air vehicles had entered or left the secret underground compound.  Unfortunately for him, the poacher was unaware of the second entrance/exit site for the base.  So, as far as he knew, the G.I. Joes that had landed in the chopper several days earlier were still inside.  On a positive note, the poacher was a surprisingly patient man; having once waited out an entire pack of hungry hyenas that had come across the corpse of an elephant he wanted to plunder.  It took nearly eighteen hours for the pack to pick the bones clean but when they were done its ivory tusks ripe for the taking.  The filthy big game hunter was vicious, but not stupid.  The hyenas were an inconvenience but they were also needed to help clean up his messes and to eliminate the evidence of his illegal activities. It might take a little longer but he wasn’t dumb enough to attempt to get his spoils from the hungry pack mid-meal.  He had waited almost a full day for the voracious hyenas; he could wait a couple days or even a week to see if the Joes would make any strategic moves.

*     *     *     *     *

The Marines back at the camp had never seen a terrorist group quite like this one.  They possessed technology at levels well above U.S. military grade.  Instead of tasers, the Cobra troopers had electric shock whips capable of delivering a lethal dose of electricity to a full grown man at six paces.  In addition to the foreign tech, there was also the odd recruits.  There was one who stood out a little more than the others.  He was over six feet tall and wore a black, latex, full head mask complete with red swimmer’s goggles and what appeared to be the mouthpiece for an underwater breathing apparatus.   This man’s attire consisted of alligator skins woven into a sleeveless vest, a belt and boots.  His pants were military-grade black with a large knife strapped to his right leg and a well-used bullwhip hanging from his belt on the left.  If his clothing wasn’t strange enough, the fact that he wrestled alligators and crocodiles while keeping them nearby, clearly was. 

Hollow Point and Hidalgo had been mentally over the lay of the compound numerous times.  Both had watched as the strange crocodile rustler had set up his pets in man-made moats around the perimeter of the base.  They had studied the odd air force squadrons and timed out the changing of the guards, realizing that everything was very methodical.  This group had been well-trained and appeared to make few mistakes.  The captured Marines wanted to get their revenge, but at the moment, they simply didn’t have the means to do it. 

“We have to hope that PFC Kordos was able to escape and find help.” Hollow Point was hopeful for his friend.  “And if these rabid dogs hurt him…. Then so help me god, we will make them pay!” 

“Relax Hollow Point, he’s resourceful and I know as a result of my latest spirit quest that he will bring help.” Hidalgo continued to outline for Max all positive attributes and skills that PFC Kordos possessed.  For the time being, they would have to sit tight and to continue to hope for a break in the terrorist ranks as a way to get out.

*     *     *     *     *

I saluted my new found G.I.Joe friends and began to make my way through the dense foliage of the savanna on my way back to my previous base camp.  Pathfinder would continue to shadow me until we got closer to the Cobra sentries.  He was then instructed to make it look like he captured me in order to get us both inside the base.  Whatever happened, I had to make it look good.  It wasn’t long before I caught the glimpse of another Cobra trooper positioned in the tall grass to my right.  I paused briefly, noticed that my reinforcements were close behind and made my move.  I decided I was going to make it look authentic and attempt to take out this trooper. 

I charged through the remaining ten yards and bum-rushed the clueless soldier.  At first, I was fearful that I might simply be shot, but the sentry yelled for me to halt before raising his weapon.  Giving him little time to react, I took him down with a typical front tackle which knocked his assault rifle from his grip.  We tussled briefly and I managed to land a couple of solid body blows before I heard the sound of a reloading shotgun above me. 

“Freeze dirtbag or I’ll aerate you!”

I looked up into the muzzle of another gun and froze for a split second not sure if this trooper was or wasn’t Pathfinder in disguise.  Two other Cobra soldiers quickly joined up with him and now I knew there was no way I would be getting away.  I surrendered myself and received a solid left cross for my efforts.   The blow disoriented me briefly and I was grabbed abruptly by my shoulders in order to keep me on my feet.  The muzzle of an AK-47 was jammed into my back and I was forced to move forward through the thick grass.  It wasn’t long before I could see the high walls and remaining security towers of my previous base camp.

 My tower had fallen in the initial Cobra attack, but the enemy had secured the fallen walls, rebuilt my fallen watch tower and placed guards in the other three.  I heard the slightly inaudible click of a sniper rifle reload from above as we neared the front gate. I once again held my breath.

“Well, who do we have here? Is that the deserter?  You couldn’t just stay away could you?”

 I was surprised that anyone had even known I had escaped earlier.  The only thing I could think of is that they had gone over the base records and compared them to the prisoner and the fallen soldier’s dog tags.  It’s the only way they could have known that I had gotten away.  Or maybe, they had seen me flee. Yet, if they had seen me, why had nobody gone after me?  A whirlwind of questions barraged my mind and I started to feel like our plan just might not work. Had this been Cobra’s plan all along? Did they overtake the military compound and allow me to escape simply to draw G.I.Joe out in the open?

The gate flew open and I was knocked forward by the butt end of a rifle on the back of my neck.  I fell into a forward roll and stopped my forward momentum just short of the open jaws of a twelve-foot gator. 

“Get up nice and slow, or Jaws will be having your left arm for a snack!” The voice was garbled but grim.

I looked up to see one of the strangest-looking men ever.  He looked like he was into latex bondage and alligator skin accessories.  He pulled back on the large gator’s leash and it simply hissed at me through its wide open mouth. 

“Croc Master, we brought you a gift.  The prodigal Marine has come home in an attempt to save his brothers.  Don’t worry, he never stood a chance!” 

I couldn’t tell if this “Croc Master” had actually smiled since his mouth was obstructed by some sort of strange breathing apparatus.  As I stood back up, I was punched hard in the gut and then led into the stockade.  The only thing that kept me at ease was the fact that Pathfinder had infiltrated the compound with me and that my boot camera was already sending back images of the base to Flint and the others.  I may have taken a few bumps and bruises, but I knew that the Joe team would soon be sending in the cavalry.  All I needed to do was to make ready the internal reinforcements. 

Having been promptly tossed into the base prison with my Marine brothers, I would finally know just who had survived the initial assault.  As I fell face first into the stockade, I was almost immediately picked back up to my feet by two well-known faces. 

“PFC Kordos!  You’re alive!  You came back for us!” Hollow Point was clearly happy to see me.  Hidalgo nodded in agreement.  “Please tell us you didn’t come back alone.  Our captors haven’t been the most gracious.” 

I looked around at the rest of the Marines in the cell.  Several appeared battered and bruised.  Others wore makeshift slings supporting broken arms or hands.  Hidalgo’s left eye was black and blue and swollen shut.  Their captors had not killed them, but they had also not gone easy on them.

“It looks worse than it is.  This I can assure you.  They have fed us regularly and we have only been abused mildly.  They have chosen one soldier each day and use mild torture in the hopes of getting information as to why the U.S. needs a presence in central Africa,” my old friend Hidalgo explained.

“Why do they care?  What is their plan?

“We really don’t know.  There has been little prattle to be heard coming from the outside.” Hollow Point continued.  “Please tell me you brought help.”

“Oh, don’t worry.  I have brought more than just any help.  I brought back...G.I.Joe!  All we have to do now is just wait for their signal.”

“Hey! Quiet down in there newbie or we’ll shut that pretty little face for ya!” The Cobra guards outside were serious, and I figured I should hold my tongue as to not welcome a fresh new beating.  In addition, I really didn’t want them hearing about our plans.  I instantly switched to silent Marine hand signals.  I sat down on the western wall under the only window in the cell.  Pathfinder would find a way to get me word when the time came.  In the meantime, I needed to not only fill in my brothers-in-arms but also to formulate a plan of just what we would do once the Joes did get here.

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.