GI Joe: The Rise of Cobra

Chapter Four

James McCullen Destro XXIV walked down the long, stainless steel hallway, his heavy black boots thumping loudly on the metal floor. He was flanked on each side by a pair of his personal body guards, wearing black uniforms with red and gold trim, Belgian P90 submachine guns resting against their chests. Destro himself carried no gun, he walked casually with his arms at his sides.

He wore a sleek black military uniform with gold trim, like that of his bodyguards, and a dark red tie. Over that he had a leather trenchcoat that hung down to his feet, its bulk making him appear larger and more muscular than he was. Black gloves emerged from the ends of the wide sleeves.

But the most striking part of Destro’s outfit was the silver mask he wore. It shined perfectly and seemed to shimmer even in the dim light of the hallway, the reflective surface mirroring his surroundings. It covered his entire face like a hockey mask, with a narrow slit for his mouth and inset holes for his eyes to give him a good range of vision. It was molded to look like a regular human face, with a large chin and full cheeks, although it did not resemble the real face he hid underneath. The mask extended up over his head in a flawless bald curve and covered his ears, concealing almost his entire head. Only the bottom edge of his brown hair at the back of his head was uncovered, and that was hidden by the tall collar of his trenchcoat. Someone meeting with Destro would be unaware of his appearance, his age, or even his race.

Accompanying him down the hall, aside from his personal soldiers, was his second-in-command, the woman named Anastasia, although he only called her by her name when they were in private. In public, she went by the name the Baroness. She followed closely behind, dressed in her tight-fitting black leather bodysuit. Her long brown hair waved behind her, and large sunglasses were perched on her face, hiding her eyes. Dual pistols hung from black leather holsters on her hips.

Destro slowed down as they reached the end of the hallway. Standing on guard there were two soldiers wearing dark red uniforms, black boots and large black gloves, cradling small MAC-10 machine pistols in their arms. Their faces were likewise concealed by military styled helmets with plexiglass visors.

One of them typed a code into a number pad in the wall, and a section of the wall slid away, opening a door to the room beyond. Destro continued forward into the large room where his newest business partner awaited him.

The room was longer than it was wide, with a tall arched ceiling and hidden ambient lighting that cast the room in shadows. More armed guards lined each wall, each of them wearing the same crimson uniform. At the end of the room was a raised platform upon which sat a large chair like a throne. On the wall behind it was a large snake head design, a red snake with a circular cobra hood around it, and horizontal lines on each side of the hood. It was the symbol of the Cobra organization.

Seated in the throne was a man wearing a crisp blue uniform with black dress shoes and golden epaulettes hanging from his shoulders. Large golden buttons went down the front of his uniform, and the red Cobra symbol was emblazoned on his breast. One leg was propped up on the other, and he slouched sideways, resting one elbow on the arm of the throne, and his chin sitting in his hand. He wore white gloves, and one finger absentmindedly tapped at his chin.

“Greetings, Lord Destro,” the man in the chair said, his voice low and raspy.

Destro stopped in the middle of the room, his team behind him. He nodded politely and licked his lips underneath the mask. “And good day to you, sir.”

“I see you’ve chosen to hide your identity.”

“Yes,” Destro said. “In my line of work, anonymity can be a blessing. And since your identity is a secret, I felt it prudent to hide mine as well.”

“Yes, of course.”

“I am not even sure what I may call you.”

“I am Cobra Commander,” the man said. “You may call me Commander.”

Cobra Commander wore a blue helmet similar to a German Stahlhelm, that flared out at the bottom to protect the wearer’s neck. Across the front of the helmet was a reflective silver faceplate that completely masked his face. Underneath his uniform he wore a blue turtleneck and had the collar pulled up over his neck and chin. Like Destro, his appearance, age, and race were unknown.

“I’ve heard nothing but compliments about you,” Cobra Commander said. “My contacts in Russia gave particularly glowing reviews of your service.”

“I aim to please,” Destro said. He glanced over his shoulder at the Baroness and nodded. She walked past him and handed a slim manilla folder to the Commander, who plucked it out of her hand, his head tilted down at her body to indicate where he was looking.

“My, my. What lovely employees you have.”

The Baroness’ lips curved up in a grim smile and she returned to Destro’s side, swinging her hips as she walked.

Cobra Commander leaned back in his throne and flipped open the folder. Inside was a list of weapons, quantities, prices, and estimated delivery times. Three pages of different weapons of all sizes and calibers, from small pistols to rocket launchers. Destro waited patiently while Cobra Commander perused the documents, watching as his head moved almost imperceptibly back and forth as he read the descriptions and other information. His fingers tapped the edge of the folder, indicating a nervous tick.

“I was informed that you also deal in prototype technology,” Cobra Commander said. “Devices and weapons of your own design.”

“We have some products that we’re working on, yes,” Destro said. “But at the moment I’m not prepared to offer them for sale. We’re still testing some of our designs.”

“Mmm,” Cobra Commander hummed, nodding his head.

“We were in the market for some new products just recently,” Destro said. “But I’m afraid the deal fell through.”

“But you do have your own research and development department, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“What about vehicles? Tanks, for instance?”

“I have a contact in the Middle East who can supply small numbers of Russian models, but they take time to arrive here. We provide alterations and weapons upgrades at the requests of the buyer, but that of course costs extra.”

“Yes,” Cobra Commander said. “Of course.”

“Do you see anything there that you like?” Destro asked, preferring to keep the conversation on the weapons he was ready to sell.

“I’m looking to arm roughly a thousand men by the end of this year,” Cobra Commander said, lowering the folder to look at Destro. His silver facemask mirrored Destro’s own silver mask, creating an infinity of reflections between them.

“We can handle that,” Destro said confidently.

“Perhaps eight hundred men with standard arms. M-16s or some equivalent. Pistols, grenades, the usual. The other two hundred would be specialized units. Heavy machine guns, missile launchers, flamethrowers, that sort of thing.”

“We can supply those as well. We can work out the details later.”

“And armor?”

“We don’t normally deal in body armor,” Destro admitted. “But I know of several dealers that can supply almost any kind of body armor you have in mind.”

Cobra Commander regarded him for a few seconds and then nodded. He returned his attention to the weapon list. “So,” he said, “Perhaps half a million for eight hundred assault rifles. Another 200-thousand for pistols and grenades. Does that sound about right?”

“It’s a fair estimate,” Destro said. “As I said, we can work out the details later.”

“Missile launchers, perhaps a few mini-guns,” Cobra Commander muttered. “I think we can afford to do business here.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Destro said. “Our prices are not the cheapest, but we guarantee higher quality.”

“No cheap Chinese knock-offs, I would hope.”

“None, we only deal with Russian and European manufacturers.”

“Excellent.”

Cobra Commander lowered the folder and placed it in his lap. He steepled his fingers thoughtfully and seemed to study Destro. His guards stood completely still, and Destro’s own guards made no move. For the moment, the two men simply looked at each other.

“You’re not an American,” Cobra Commander said.

“Not originally,” Destro admitted. “I do live here now.”

“When I first attempted to contact an arms dealer, I was told that they rarely sell weapons inside their home country, especially here in the United States. When my contacts gave me your information, I expected you to turn me down.”

“I choose no sides,” Destro said. “And I play no favorites. I provide my services to anyone who can afford them, fairly and equally. You might say it’s a bit of a family motto.”

“How interesting.”

“Are you prepared to do business, then?”

“Oh, yes,” Cobra Commander purred. “I think you and I could work very well together.”

<--Previous Chapter|Next Chapter-->