GI Joe: The Rise of Cobra

Chapter Five

The training facility in southern Maryland was an hour’s drive from Washington, D.C. and just across the Potomac River from Virginia. It was a fairly nondescript pair of rectangular buildings made of gray concrete sitting at right angles to each other, with a wide paved courtyard in between them, and surrounded by a tall chain-link fence. There were no signs on the property to indicate who owned it or what went on inside.

Shana O’Hara had somehow expected more. She had been dropped off only two hours before, and given a quick tour by a serious-looking young officer before being assigned her small quarters and given the time of the meeting with the commander of the new unit. The room was small and furnished with a metal desk, chair, and bed frame with a cheap plastic mattress.

All Shana had brought with her was a duffel bag and the clothes on her back. She set the bag on her bed and emptied it out, hanging up her Army uniform in the narrow closet and tossing her black leather jacket on the chair. The officer told her the meeting was casual dress, so she didn’t change into her uniform. She was dressed in black sneakers, black cargo pants, and a green t-shirt.

The prospect of joining a new, covert anti-terrorism unit had sounded exciting at the time, but now Shana was having second thoughts. Sometimes, newly formed special units like this were short-lived because of poor planning or poor management from the upper brass. The second-rate accommodations did not fill her with confidence, nor did the cold reception. She began to wonder if the people in charge knew what they were doing.

True to her Irish heritage, Shana had long red hair, which was currently tied behind her head with a black scrunchie. She had bright green eyes and the faintest hint of freckles on the bridge of her nose. They were more noticeable when she got too much sun, and she frequently used a bit of makeup to cover them up.

Men usually underestimated Shana at first, since most men underestimate women in general. Especially in a male-dominated world like the military, Shana had to continually deal with being patronized or marginalized by her male superiors, and being subject to passive-aggressive behavior and borderline sexual harassment by her male teammates. Maybe if she’d looked more butch or less feminine it might have been easier to fit in, but unfortunately, she was cursed with good looks. The last thing most men expected was a beautiful woman who could actually take care of herself.

Shana opened up the mission dossier she’d been given and looked at the code name she had been assigned.

“Scarlett,” she muttered. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

She glanced at her watch and saw it was almost time for the meeting. She tossed the dossier onto the small metal desk with a sigh. She really had no idea what to expect. She didn’t even know how many other people were part of the team.

She walked out into the hallway and headed to the double doors leading outside. Just as she reached the doors, she almost ran into a man who came from the adjacent hallway and was also going outside. She backed away apologetically.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“S’okay,” the man said. He was easily a foot taller than her, with impossibly wide shoulders and bulging biceps emerging from his t-shirt sleeves. His skin was so dark brown it was almost literally black, and his head was shaved. He looked like an NFL linebacker, only bigger. He wore regular brown and green camouflage cargo pants and a black t-shirt.

“You must be on the team too,” he said in a deep voice, sticking out his massive hand. “Lamont Morris, pleased to meet you.”

His hand almost completely engulfed Shana’s as they shook hands. “I’m Shana O’Hara. You’re the first other person I’ve seen here so far.”

“Yeah, I guess they’re keepin’ this pretty informal.” Lamont held the door open for her and Shana walked through, intimidated by how huge Lamont was but not wanting to show it. Despite his size, he seemed to move very smoothly. “Hopefully we’ll get to meet the rest of the team now.”

“I hope so,” Shana said.

The two of them walked outside into the central courtyard between the two buildings. A long shadow swept down from one building, seemingly dividing the courtyard in half. There were three men standing around, two of them looking bored. The third man was the officer that Shana had first met when she arrived. He stood with his hands behind his back, wearing beige khakis and a blue dress shirt. He nodded to Shana and Lamont as they approached.

“Welcome. We’re still waiting for a few people,” he said.

Shana and Lamont introduced themselves, and the two other men did so as well. The officer, for the moment, remained nameless.

“Name’s Lance,” the first man said, a gangly-looking man in his early twenties with unruly black hair and an unshaven chin. He wore jeans with black sneakers and a blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He smiled at Shana, and she caught him glancing at her chest as soon as they broke eye contact.

The second man kept his hands in his pockets, choosing not to shaking hands. “My name is Eric Freistadt,” he said, his voice low. He had short blonde hair and dark eyes. He wore black pants and a short-sleeved white dress shirt.

They didn’t have time for much small talk, as three more men quickly arrived and joined their group. Before they could introduce themselves, the officer said, “Okay, looks like everyone is here. Well, all but one, but he’ll be here shortly.”

From the other building, two men came out of the main doors and approached the group. The officer nodded to them and said something Shana couldn’t hear. One of the men, an African American with sharp features, responded and pointed up to the roof of the building behind them, a smile on his face. Shana glanced in the direction he pointed but didn’t see anything.

The other man smiled easily and looked at the group. He was an older gentleman, maybe mid-forties, with brown hair edged with gray at the temples. He wore dress shoes, black slacks, and a gray dress shirt.

“It’s good to see you all,” he greeted them. “I’m General Clayton Abernathy, and I’m your commanding officer.”

At the mention of his rank, Shana had the instinctive reflex to salute. Some of the men in the group started to, but Abernathy quickly waved them down. “At ease, soldiers,” he chuckled. “Let’s not worry about rank for the time being.”

He gestured toward the young officer and the black man, and they both came forward. “This is Sergeant Conrad Hauser and Major Lonzo Wilkinson,” he said. “But you don’t need to remember those names right away. Like all of you, we’ve been assigned code names as well. So let me introduce you to Duke and Stalker. I’ll let Duke here handle the rest of the introductions.”

The officer came forward and crossed his arms casually. “Thanks, Hawk,” he said with a bit of sarcasm in his voice. He smiled slightly and glanced across the seven faces in front of him, nodding approvingly.

“As you’ve all surely noticed in your mission papers, you’ve been given code names as part of your assignment,” he said. “This is a covert task force, so all official communications will use only your code names, not your real names. Of course, we’re allowed to use our real names among ourselves, but we are to use only our code names when performing a mission. Our identities will be an official secret.”

Sergeant Hauser – or Duke, as Shana now thought of him – walked along the line and continued. “Some of you were chosen for this task force based on my personal recommendations. All of you are experts in your chosen fields, all of you have experience with covert operations, and most importantly, all of you have proven yourselves as valuable members of the teams you’ve worked with. One of the goals of this task force is to foster a high level of teamwork.”

Duke stopped in front of Shana and folded his hands behind him. “I’ve studied all of your dossiers, so I hope you’ll permit me to do the introductions. First we have Shana O’Hara, code named Scarlett. Hand-to-hand combat instructor, black belt in two different martial arts. Extensive experience in both covert operations and intelligence gathering, and also qualified as a field radio operator.”

Moving on to the next in line, Duke continued. “Lamont Morris, code named Heavy Duty. Heavy machine gunner and advanced weapon specialist. Worked in the prototype division of the Pentagon, at Aberdeen. Qualified to use almost anything in the U.S. arsenal that shoots bullets. Also a first-rate mechanical engineer.”

Next in line was Lance, a goofy smile on his face as Duke approached. “Lance Steinberg, code named Clutch. Transportation and vehicle specialist, qualified to drive and repair almost any transport or armored vehicle, except for tanks. Also qualified as a field medic and a field radio operator.”

“I’m getting my qualification to drive tanks, by the way,” Clutch added.

Duke chuckled and moved over to the next person in line. “And here we have Eric Freistadt, code named Short Fuse. Artillery expert and missile specialist. Were you aware that I was a part of this team when you joined up?”

“No,” Short Fuse said quietly. “It was a bit of a surprise, to say the least.”

“A good surprise, I hope. You’re also a part of the prototype division at Aberdeen, and are qualified to repair and manually operate every missile system in the U.S. military. You also achieved the highest rate of artillery accuracy in the history of the Army. Good to have you aboard, Short Fuse.”

“Can I ask a question?”

“Of course.”

“Did you come up with my code name?”

Duke shook his head. “Believe it or not, I had nothing to do with choosing the code names. If anyone wishes to change their code name, you can talk to General Hawk about it.”

He moved on to the next person in line, a tall man with unruly brown hair, a square chin, and bright blue eyes. He wore jeans and a denim long-sleeved shirt, and was casually chewing on a piece of gum. “Alvin Kibbey, code named Breaker. Communications and computer specialist. Extensive experience with a wide range of computer operating systems and computer devices. Also qualified to operate and repair most radio hardware. Can speak seven languages and is also an expert marksman.”

The next soldier was a tall, muscular man with tanned skin and tattoos on his bare arms. He wore black cargo pants and a sleeveless gray shirt. His hair was jet black and long enough to be tied into a ponytail, and he also had a trimmed goatee. “Hector Delgado, code named Shipwreck. Navy SEAL,” Duke said. He then paused and shrugged. “I don’t know if I can add much to that. SEALs can do just about everything, can’t they?”

“I could probably run an aircraft carrier by myself if somebody would give me the chance,” Shipwreck said with a broad smile, and Scarlett caught the hint of a Hispanic accent in his voice.

The last man in line was another tall, muscular soldier, larger than Shipwreck but not quite as gigantic as Heavy Duty. He wore camouflage pants and a black t-shirt, and a brown vest with bulging pockets over the shirt. He had a shaved head that glistened in the sun, and sported a mustache. “Ettienne LaFitte, code named Gung-Ho,” Duke said. “Survivalist and hostile terrain specialist. Experienced in jungle warfare and guerilla tactics. Qualified as a combat medic, and also skilled in hand-to-hand combat as well as vehicle repair. Speaks five languages, experienced in covert operations and intelligence, and qualified as a heavy machine gunner. Is there anything I’m missing?”

Gung-Ho smiled but it looked like a grimace when he bared his teeth. He crossed his muscular arms and said, “You forgot to mention how good looking I am.”

“Of course. You’re also very good looking,” Duke said.

That got a laugh out of everyone, helping to ease the tension a bit, although the introductions had been fairly informal. Duke took a step past Gung-Ho although there was no one else in line. He rubbed his chin and looked back at General Hawk.

“Looks like we’re still missing our last member.”

“Up there,” Stalker said with a grin, gesturing toward the building behind them.

They all turned to see a figure appear on the roof of the building, looking over the courtyard. He kneeled at the edge of the roof and deftly swung himself over the edge, dropping to the grass below. He landed in a solid crouch and walked casually over to where Duke was standing.

Unlike the others, he was not dressed casually. He was dressed all in black and was also armed. Black boots, black cargo pants, a black-long sleeved shirt, complete with black gloves and even a black ski mask. His eyes were concealed behind a pair of black goggles. Pistols hung from black leather holsters on each hip, and what appeared to be a sword was strapped to his back.

He was nowhere near as tall as Gung-Ho or Heavy Duty, but he came across as much more physically intimidating just by the way he moved. Scarlett watched him carefully, able to tell right away that he had martial arts training. He moved like a tiger hunting a gazelle, with swift, silent, efficient movements.

“And lastly, code name Snake Eyes,” Duke said. “Real name is classified. Covert operations and hand-to-hand combat specialist. Infiltration and sabotage expert, advanced weapons specialist, and black belt in three martial arts.”

“Dude, is that a sword?” Clutch interrupted.

Snake Eyes turned to look at Clutch but said nothing. He reached over his shoulder to pat the handle of the sword gently, nodding his head.

“Do you have anything to add, Snake Eyes?” Duke asked.

Snake Eyes faced forward and slowly shook his head.

“Somehow, I didn’t think so,” Duke said.

He turned to the rest of the group. “Although the rest of us are free to use our real names, Snake Eyes’ identity is considered classified information. His appearance and his real name are a secret, even to General Hawk.”

At the mention of his name, Hawk came forward. “I’m sure most of you have questions about the task force and our mission,” he said. “I’ve been deliberately unclear about the details because I believe very strongly in teamwork and cooperation. I’d like all of you to be able to give your input and share your ideas with me. So before we go any farther with this, I’d like to give you a short tour of our base of operations here.”

He smiled at some private joke. “I know it doesn’t look like very much from the outside, but this facility is much more than it seems. Please, come with me.”

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