G.I. Joe: Doomsday Protocol

Chapter 2: Return to Cobra Island

Five hours later the unmarked V-22 Osprey was nearing Cobra Island, moving low to the water to prepare for delployment. The remains of a storm lingered in the area, fighting back against the powerful sun rays. Rain and wind jostled the Osprey from without, in turn jostling the crew within. The Joes were each dressed from head to toe in the habiliments of jungle combat. But that is where their similarities ended. They each had a job to do and required specific gear as such. And while they were all in full battle-rattle, Speakeasy was an L.R.R.P., so he did most of the heavy lifting, his packs full of laptops and a long-range communications device strapped to his back. Beach Head, now concealing most of his face with his standard, dark green, balaclava, looked at the fellow soldiers sitting around him. It felt good to be home, he thought. He began to run the mission through his head, trying to take in all possible scenarios. Even though saddled with a green team, Beach Head knew that like so many G. I. Joe missions he endeavored upon in the past; the team was only as weak as its leadership. And not only did he have no intention of letting his team down, he knew that Stalker didn't either.

Firewall suddenly turned to find Speakeasy sitting next to her. She feared this was going to happen. He broke the ice first.

"Hi," he extended his hand. "I'm Speakeasy."

"Hi." Replied Firewall.

"We've met before," he added.

"Have we?"

He mocked a gesture of offense. "Yeah, a few months ago."

She honestly didn't remember. "Yeah, I remember."

"Great."

"But you should know that I don't date within the family," she said.

"What?"

"I don't date other members of G.I. Joe."

It's like she read his mind and he knew it. "Wait, what... what makes you think I was going to ask you out?"

"Weren't you?"

The words slowly came from his mouth, "No, I was."

"Yeah. No."

Beach Head smiled, enjoying Speakeasy's verbal reeling and pleased to see that, even after the loss Firewall had suffered on her last mission as a Joe, she still had some bite left in her. "Let me know if he's bothering you, Firewall."

Stalkers' arrival from the cockpit to the cargo hold brought the group to their feet, postured at attention. "Gentlemen, prepare to drop." He didn't stop as he walked past to the rear ramp. He pounded his fist against a large red button mounted to the wall of the cargo hold, causing an alarm to sound and the ramp to begin opening.

Beach Head and his men lined up at the ramp, two on each side of the mounted .50 caliber M2 machine gun. The raindrops outside were twisting and churning in the turbulence of the Osprey's rotors.

"I'll see you at the Exfil," Stalker saluted them.

"Yo Joe!" they all chanted in unison; those in Beach Head's unit and those remaining behind in the Osprey.

Beach Head led the way out, followed by Shooter and then Firewall. Speakeasy, being who he was, had to make a show of it, turning for one more salute before throwing himself out of the helicopter backward.

Firewall kept her legs straight and directly below her as she entered the water fifty feet below. By the time she swam back to the surface, the Osprey had gone, and Beach Head had a military-issued, black, inflatable boat sea-ready. He and Shooter pulled her aboard before offering Speakeasy a similar hand. Crowded on the raft, they all began to row, Beach Head using an old-school compass to navigate them through the dark rocky waters.