Beachhead

Last Login:
November 17th, 2019




Gender: Male
Status: Divorced
Age: 36
Country: United States

Signup Date:
October 28, 2019


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11/07/2019 11:29 AM 

Starter Example Seven: Retirment

Sneeden Family Farms
Auburn, Alabama
United States
November
0600

The air was beginning to dry out and cool down.  Freezing and snow in this part of the state was rare, but there had been some record years of powder and freezing temps, even if it only lasted a few days at most.  Either way, it was important to check and ensure everything was ready to house thirty head of horses and one hundred head of cattle.  This included the barns, sheds and stocks of feed, hay and water sources.  The heating for the water needed to be checked to be sure it would work when the temperatures dropped below freezing.

Thus far, the barns had been cleaned and re-bedded and the collection of hay and grain had been distributed as needed for the number of animals to be housed in each barn and shed.  Blankets, coats and emergency heating pads/blankets were also stored safely in the tack rooms to ensure any sick, injured, old or newborn animals would be warm and dry.  Extra bedding had also been brought in close to add to the stalls and pens if needed.

The sound of a tractor running, cattle lowing and horses nickering, illumination from floodlights and headlights, and the sight of a pair of dogs bounding about gave away the position of the farm's caretaker and owner.

It had been years since he'd been put onto reserve duty, then retired altogether.  Even then, he made a routine of running before chores and breakfast.  He'd been up since 0300 already, but he felt no fatigue as of yet, even after the run and having now gotten quite a bit of work done.  He was just getting started as far as he was concerned.

The soft light of the kitchen flickered on.

His elderly mother was awake and no doubt ready to start breakfast.  His elderly father would likely start a fire in the parlor room to chase the chill from the house.  His son was going to sleep a little longer, and rightly so as he'd arrived home on leave at 0330.

As a military family, no one was going to complain about letting a tired soldier sleep in his own bed where it was quiet, safe and warm.

Pulling a small section of fence to tighten and lock it down, Wayne finished repairing a weakened part of the enclosure.  All the while, his attention seeking hoard of Hereford cattle surrounded his workspace.  Off in the distance, his Quarter Horses watched eagerly over the boundaries of their paddocks similarly wanting attention.

They'd all been fed and watered, but they were all extremely social with humans, thus leading to his current situation of being bothered while he worked on his last project for the morning hours before breakfast.

His Australasian Shepherd and German Rottweiler pup seemed to be trying to help give him distance, though failed miserably as the cattle ignored them or tended to find brief entertainment by playing with them.

11/07/2019 10:02 AM 

Starter Example Six: Pre-Joe Time

Covert Operations School
Undisclosed Location
Central America
July
0700

"I said run ya filthy meat sacks!  If I gotta tell y'all one more time, I'm gonna put a forty-five slug in each a yer asses!"

The jungle had been quiet with the soft and harmonious sounds of birds, insects and the rustling of leaves as they fell to the forest floor.  It was still too early for the reptiles to be moving much, and most mammals had been active all night.  Yet, as paired groups of soldiers passed by, they were under watch by every creature, seen or not.

Most of the wildlife here had never seen humans, thus were wary of the strange and loud creatures.  Others, however, had a naturally occurring fearlessness that came from centuries of never seeing humans and not having a natural predator.

The humans often encountered curious big cats, bush dogs, coatis and monkeys snooping through their camp during the day, and often times at night.  However, it wasn't uncommon to see deer, tapirs and other large mammals and birds wondering through either.

Thus far, no harm had been done and the soldiers did not plan on harming them or shooing them away if there was no threat.  That didn't mean they weren't careful though, as any of the big cats could potentially become a problem should their fearless curiosity turn into opportunistic hunger.

This morning, however, the animals kept their distance.  The loud voices and sounds were more than enough to remind them that humans were potentially dangerous as well.  Especially if it came from the bellowing alpha male escorting the herd through the vegetation.

These men and a small number of women were not like the sparsely populated natives... They were too fair skinned and easy to spot without their camouflaged coats.  Their heads were also of varying colors instead of strictly dark brown to black.  They were also much louder and traveled in more organized patterns.

Scarily enough, there were times when they couldn't be seen or even scented.  They were silent through the jungles and sometimes encountered the natives, stopping them from destroying the forests, killing animals or routing their foul smelling machines though the brush.

Frankly, the fair skinned ones were protective compared to the indigenous.

The running soldiers soon broke out into a large, natural clearing surrounding a marsh.  The humidity and sweat rolled off their faces in torrents and their breathing was heavy and loud as they followed a well beaten trail around the saturated, grassy pool.  Upon completing the circle, they returned to the beaten path they had approached on.

Again their leader barked out his displeasure with their performance, making most if not all of the participants mentally beat themselves for agreeing to show up to this uncivilized and untamed land.  It wasn't because of their hatred for nature, but because they hadn't been told it would be overturned by the constant badgering and insults being slung at them.

They'd missed the memo about this 'training program' being more of a severe punishment than extra training.

Several miles later, and the group returned to their hidden base camp.

Their leader called them to a halt and let them catch their breath for a few minutes.  Once they were rested enough to stand straight at attention, he stood before them, hardly winded despite having run with them, as well as run ten miles before daylight on his own.

He was a legendary Drill Sergeant from Fort Benning, Georgia, originally born and raised in Alabama.  He held all the records at the Ranger School, and was the most sought after and respected Physical Training Instructor in the world.  He was a survivalist and weapons specialist, and there was no one even close to his level of Covert Ops abilities, other than perhaps Ninjas...

He could get in and out without detection rather easily, and he never failed a mission or left a man behind.  Even being wounded and stranded during Gothic Serpent in Somalia, Africa, he'd gotten his entire team out alive and accomplished what they'd set out to do.

Now, he was putting his skills to good use teaching new generations of Army Rangers and Covert Ops specialists.

Even if it took him away from his wife and young son for long periods of time...

"Well done today.  Git some chow 'n' showers.  Dismissed."

His voice had softened for the first time since their training session started.  It was still a hard Southern drawl that would force anyone to listen, but it didn't echo through the rain forest anymore.

6'2" of muscle and battle hardened skill watched in silence as his recruits dispersed without a second thought.  His chocolate brown eyes peered over them for a brief moment before relenting and turning to find the large facility beyond.  His light brown, military cut hair was soaked in sweat and flattened against his head, but still somehow managed to move just a little as a rare breeze blew in over the compound, most likely sourced from one of the many inbound/outbound helicopters and transport planes.

Master Sergeant Wayne Sneeden II breathed a deep inhale and took in the moist air, then let it out in a satisfied sigh.  Military life wasn't for everyone, but he couldn't think of anything else he'd rather do, though a father and farmer came in a close second...

10/29/2019 02:35 PM 

Starter Example Five: Clock Race

Rescuing Hawk from Cobra's clutches had been easy enough.  Granted, there had been far more obstacles than first perceived.  Thankfully, even going in blind, the team had been able to infiltrate the small outpost, locate their captured General, then make an escape to the LZ.

The only casualty they'd suffered was him...

In an effort to ensure his teammates made it out, the Sergeant Major had lagged back as a decoy and distraction.  As long as the Troopers, Vipers and Guardsmen could see his back, the longer they believed him to be the drag position and would follow.  He painted a target on his own back and diverted their enemies off the rest of the team.

It was a rare thing to have happen, and even more rare for it to fail.

Hawk's extraction to safety was a success, and the rest of the team also retreated without injury.

That was all that mattered to him at the time.  If he had to fight his way out and walk back to the PIT, he'd do it and would enjoy the entire trip.  His only concern was his fellow Joes, and if anyone was left behind, it was going to be him.

Rangers were the first ones in and the last ones out.  His rank as an officer also further encouraged said behavior.

In the end, despite him being within visual of the gunship, Cobra was too thick and too close to risk waiting on him to get in.

The Ranger had called the pilots and told them to bail without him, all the while he continued to lead the hostile forces through rough terrain away from the transport plane.

Once the transport was gone and out of range, then it was time to worry about himself.  By then, however, it was too late.

Cobra wasn't as foolish as many thought.  Their personnel were highly trained and held great intellect.  Their leadership was also better than the typical gangster or extremist.  They came from backgrounds dealing with military tactics, weaponry and skill.  Those that didn't were financially savvy which lead to funding that was probably better than the top governments in the world.  They were also socially and politically active, turning them into a global organization that had their fingers dipped in just about every country, economy and market.

There were no such things as 'idiots' when it came to Cobra.

Cobra's forces had split early on when they'd realized intruders were abound and had taken their hostage.  It had taken them some time to get enough information as to the location and predicted telemetry of the Joe team, but they quickly managed to plan ahead and send forces to intercept their escape route.

Beachhead found himself running into a wall of Troopers and Vipers, lead by Scarface, Major Bludd and Zartan.

Behind him, the Baroness, Destro and the Twins guiding Vipers and Guardsmen.

He was surrounded on all sides...

That didn't stop him from engaging them.  He had a slight advantage at first in doing so.  With the forces facing one another, they couldn't use their weapons or they'd risk hitting themselves.  However, he easily mowed down whomever couldn't avoid his hail of gunfire fast enough.  When ammunition ran out, grenades became an effective choice.  When those were gone, his combat knife and hand-to-hand disciplines were the next best.

He might have been alone and outnumbered, but he was a one-man army for some time and managed to take out a rather large sum of Cobra's forces.

But, even he was not inhuman.

Fatigue and blood loss eventually took their toll.  He was too tired and becoming too weak to continue.  His valiant effort was in vain as a mob of Vipers managed to finally take him to the ground, disarm him and subdue him.

Beachhead was at the mercy of Cobra...

~~**~~

He wasn't sure how long it had been since he'd been captured, nor did he remember where they'd transported him.  All he could recall was passing out en-route to his current location, then waking to find himself strung up by his wrists to the ceiling.

He'd been stripped of everything except his trousers and left to hang in a dark corner to the right of Cobra Commander's throne.  What felt like every few hours, whomever felt like approaching and getting a few licks on him did so, leaving him bruised, bloody and without strength.

Despite his weakness, he still managed to stay conscious and mostly aware.

The soft clicks of heels ticked through the room, growing closer until they stopped just a stride or two from him.

He couldn't lift his head to see the face of the one before him, but he could tell just by the designer boots and the bottom hem of a long leather trench coat.

A set of strong, smooth and yet refined fingers settled under his chin and lifted his head for him.

"Such a shame... A handsome man like yourself in such a state... It's a pity there was nothing I could do to preserve such a specimen.  Unfortunately, what the Commander wants, the Commander gets."

His head was allowed to drop back down, mustering a quiet and pained grunt from him.

Another set of shoes, these common sneakers, approached to stand beside the Baroness.

"He is still a fine specimen for experimentation, just not for stud." Mindbender chortled...

10/28/2019 05:25 PM 

Starter Example Four: Twelve Strong

"Yer f***in' kidding me, right?" Tunnel Rat questioned, with a surprised raised brow and a dumbfounded look on his face.

He'd even raised a hand to point absently at the line of transportation that had been assembled for himself and the Joes he was with.

"Yeehaw, mother f***ers!" Cross-Country and Dusty cheered in unison.  Clearly they seemed to find humor in this and had used a movie reference to emphasis it.

"Hush it, ya idiots." Beachhead muttered in slight annoyance.  "Actin' crazy ain't gonna help ya sit atop one."

The Chinese-American jerked his attention to the higher officer.

"Sit atop one?  Yer tellin' me we're gonna ride these things?"

The Ranger paused before the nearest mount.  He softly rested his hand under the beast's chin and lifted the nose until the eyes were level with his.

The mount, a beautifully sleek and shiny black Arabian gelding, rotated his ears to point forward with all attention on the man.  His already high set tail lifted slightly and his sides expanded with air.  A soft nicker left him.

Snake-Eyes was the next to approach and his quiet and soft hands found the narrow, elegantly curved and narrow head of a dappled grey mare.  While his face was covered by a black balaclava, his bright blue eyes were visible, soft and understanding towards the equally interested and gentle equine.

Wild Bill even jumped in in favor of a chestnut gelding with a snip, followed closely behind with Cross Country and Dusty partnering up with a pair of Mahogany bay geldings in nearly identical white blazes and two rear white strips.

Scarlett and Cover Girl handled the reins of a chestnut mare and a second black gelding with white socks.

Jinx settled on a nearly white mare.

Stalker found himself faced with a flaxen palomino mare.

Recondo selected a light bay gelding.

The last two Arabian horses, a dappled palomino gelding and a flea-bitten mare pointed their ears knowingly towards the two remaining Joes before them.

Kamakura had taken Tunnel Rat's side.  He wasn't finding this idea very favorable at all.  If anything, he was terrified of being dumped in the sand and left for dead with a broken arm or crushed in head.

Scarlett and Cover Girl snickered.

"Typical city boys." the redhead jested.

The strawberry blonde chortled softly in agreement.

"So unwilling to try new things."

Both males folded their arms over their chests and almost seemed to pout at the insult.  However, they were clearly and very firmly planted where they were.

"Are you nuts?  A one ton animal with a brain between my legs and you think I'm gonna feel safer on it than a Humvee surrounded by IEDs?" the Ninja Apprentice snorted.

The rest of the Joes mounted up.  Most waited, but Beachhead softly squeezed his knees and his mount plodded slowly forward, then stopped with a light pull of the reins.  His nose was only inches from touching the young Ninja's chest.

"If yer gonna act like asses, I'll have the owner find ya a pair.  Donkeys 're just as dependable as any horse.  More so th'n most horses, really.  Too bad I got stuck with a pair a wimpy, unreliable and gutless ninnies." the Ranger grumbled.

Tunnel Rat stepped back and away from the black gelding when the Arabian slowly and carefully moved his head to sniff the two standing Joes.

"My life depends on my skittish instincts.  I live in Brooklyn for f***'s sake-"

"Then yer used te horses.  You ain' scared a them poor, abused carriage horses, are ya?"

"Well... no..."

"Then mount up 'r stay here 'n' bake.  I'll jus' tell Hawk yer both permanently chained te desks fer the rest of yer careers.  Can't trust ya in the field, so yer better off at home."

Kamakura looked horrified and his eyes darted to his master.

Snake-Eyes didn't make any attempt to counter his CO.  Beachhead was right and he wasn't going to argue the point.

He himself had been a little hesitant the first time he'd been asked to ride a horse in the military, but he'd found it oddly comfortable now.  Horses, donkeys, mules and camels were now common modes of transportation in the Middle Eastern front.  They could go places where tanks and Humvees would bog down or clog up.  They could go over rough terrain that would tear up treads and blow tires.

Granted, animals were independently thinking, but as long as they were treated well and with respect and no pain, they provided great companions.

Cover Girl and Cross Country couldn't argue the point of vehicles either.  Equines and camels were far cheaper here and needed less maintenance.  They made less noise as well, giving them access to places vehicles would be spotted and destroyed.

Sometimes, simple and low-tech were better options.

The thoughtful silence lasted long enough for Beachhead to tolerate.

He and the others wrapped their heads in scarves and turned their horses away from the remaining pair.

Tunnel Rat and Kamakura were being left behind on their own choice.

Eventually, the majority of the Joes were out of sight and the blowing sand was quickly covering their tracks...

Finally, the two men gave in and awkwardly approached, mounted and began to ride in the direction their companions went.

10/28/2019 05:22 PM 

Starter Example Three: Initiate Rescue

Operations was in a chaotic rush.  Several members of the support staff looked as though they'd suddenly lost their minds, or were terrified to lose their lives.

Something had gone very wrong and they had no idea how to fix it, but they were struggling to figure something out.

"Sit Rep..." General Hawk commanded calmly, but purposefully.

One of the technicians turned in his chair after swallowing hard.

"We lost contact with the Sergeant Major as of twenty-one hundred..." he answered nervously.

Hawk glanced down to his wrist watch, then back up at the status boards.  It was currently 21:40... Nearly an hour had passed, and while he would've liked to have known much sooner, he understood why there was hesitation in telling him.

Beachhead never missed a status report or COMMs check.  However, the location of his latest mission was poor as far as satellite and radio transmission was concerned.  The support staff were told only to inform of problems after two missed checks.

21:45 would be the second missed report...

"Previous status report?"

"Garbled, but he confirmed his target.  We put a GPS tag on his last location to record it." the tech replied.

"Replay that message."

"Yes, Sir."

Audio feeds lit up and the latest transmission form the dispatched Joe was pulled up.

Static and various other unidentified noises echoed through the speakers.

"Pyre... Beachhead... Located.... target... Repeat... On target..."

The southern drawl and deep tone was definitely Beachhead's.  Even Zartan couldn't copy it properly without being detected for a minor flaw.

Somewhere in the middle of the recording, a muffled undertone was captured.  It was the Ranger's voice again, but it was nearly impossible to make out what he'd said.  There were plenty of other words left out within the static, but the phrase in question was so close to being audible it was nearly painful from strain to hear it.

"Isolate his voice." the General ordered firmly.

Without a word, the technician and one female counterpart began to cooperatively isolate the sentence and make every attempt to clean the audio.  It took several minutes, and the second COMMs window came and went without a word.  That now in mind, the importance of knowing what the Sergeant Major said was Priority One.

"Well?" Hawk finally inquired.

The female technician lifted her head to the larger screens before them and her fingers pressed the play button.

"Beginning now, Sir." she announced.

Static was all but gone the second time.  Background noise had been reduced, but was still audible between words and behind their undertones.  These backgrounds included unfamiliar voices and one rifle report towards the end.

"Pyre this is Beachhead... I've located the target... I'm not gonna make it out though... Repeat... Confirm on target..."

Every staff member felt their blood run cold in their veins.  It was a chilling message, even if there was good news of the Ranger locating a Cobra field base.  It was his breathless voice, exhausted tone and almost some regret to report his misfortune.

He'd been running and probably engaged in a firefight while trying to find a chance to make his report.  Whether injured or not was unknown, but the gunshots and voices only confirmed that he'd been found and was in immediate danger.

The General felt his shoulders tense and every fiber of his being become on full alert and on edge.

"I wanted a rescue team yesterday!  Get me the first four available Joes and fly them out, NOW!  Divert Snake-Eyes from his assignment and get him out there too!  I want my drill instructor home before morning mess!  Do you understand?"

"Ye'sir!" the entire room responded.

Quickly, the staff rushed to work and prepared the proper personnel, equipment and orders.

'Hold on, Sergeant Major...' Hawk murmured mentally to himself.

~~**~~

Wham!

Pain flooded the left side of his head just shy of his temple.  His skull had already been pounding from the impact with the butt of an assault rifle to his face, thus a blow from a set of knuckles only intensified the agony and further dulled his senses.

His focus lagged, unable to comprehend the images of lights, shadows, colors and even solid figures surrounding him.  Sounds were all white noise at this point, joined by the feeling of heaviness and a tingle of numbness in through his body.  He couldn't tell if he was bleeding or from where; suffering broken bones at any point; bruised on the surface or deep in muscle; or if he even had any injuries at all.

The last thing he remembered was seeing Scarface's hollow eyes meet his, then the hard rubber pad of the gun stock.

He'd tried to run after his presence was made, but Intel hadn't been as accurate as anyone hoped.  There had been far more Troopers and high ranked Vipers than expected, not to mention Cobra had done a rather impressive job of fortifying the landscape with mines, trenches, pit fall traps, and strategically placed cover blinds to surround and contain any intruders or traitors.  He was good at infiltration and covert-ops and he was better than most at escaping a blind situation, but even he wasn't inhuman.

He'd run for hours and over every type of terrain except for sandy desert.  He'd taken out a large number of hostiles, but not enough to keep him out of trouble.  He'd finally run out of breath, out of stamina and out of ammunition.  He'd been forced to accept his fate and stand his ground as long as possible, only falling when his fatigue and heavy body slowed his reflexes and allowed Scarface to surprise him.

His next memory, and the most recent, was the blurry vision of a dimly lit room, illuminated by a single, grunge covered bulb above his head.  Two solid shadows stood just out of arms' length from him, though he was just able to comprehend restrains keeping his arms and legs tied down to the wobbly metal chair he was sitting.  One figure was undoubtedly Major Bludd after taking in his distinctive frame and the reflection of a single eye.

The other figure, however, was harder to judge.  It was familiar and yet his brain didn't want to admit what he was seeing.

Shaking the pain and unwanted thoughts from his head, as well as trying to return his loose senses to their proper places after the impact of a fist, Beachhead did his best to just listen and hope that time was on his side.

Bludd's voice was muffled in his bloody and bruised ears...

"I know a few things about pain, Beachhead... Controlling pain is controlling the world." the Aussie began neutrally.

Somehow, the Ranger's brain was able to keep up despite the pounding headache and scrambled senses.

Irony was the first thing he could think of.

"Cobra Commander controls you like a dog, Bludd..." he scoffed.

Kathwap!

Another blow that came from the shadow of denial standing beside the Major.  This time, blood welled within his mouth and the back of his throat.  The Ranger was forced to cough to prevent passage into his lungs, but that turned into a mouthful that he couldn't and wouldn't contain.  Thus, he spat the collection of blood onto the floor between his scuffed and muddy boots.

His eyes glanced up towards his abuser, his mind finally wrapping around what he was seeing and becoming victim to.  He was being beaten by one of his own... A fellow G.I. Joe...

The thought made him tiredly smile and chuff.

Senile, perhaps, but what else was he supposed to do?  The one thing he never planned to happen was happening.  A traitor was never in the cards.  He and the other Joes always thought that a traitor in the ranks was above them, almost like they were immune to it.  Clearly he was witness that even they had horrifying secrets within their unit.

"I know a few things too..." he began in a low tone, though a knowing, mocking smile spread across his swollen and split lips and his eyes locked onto Major Bludd in a challenging glower.

"I know you underestimate me... I know you don't have enough guards to keep me here... So yer gonna have ta kill me..."

Almost instinctively after the words were out, Beachhead found himself bracing for another blow, but one didn't come when expected.

Bludd had to turn his head towards his accomplice and motion for the strike.

Chuckles, as he was now clearly revealed to be, grinned in a sadistically satisfied expression.  He stepped forward and recoiled his right arm, then discharged a powerful hook that landed squarely against his former CO's face.

The force was enough to nearly give the Ranger whiplash, as well as almost send the chair toppling over backwards.

"I know pain makes you see the world differently.  That you're not the elite... That you need to be controlled.  And yes... you will die."

Unfazed by the threat of death, as well as feeling nothing but the desire to go out mocking his enemies, the Drill Instructor started laughing.

Chuckles unloaded an array of blows with Bludd's permission.

By the end, the Joe was barely conscious with agony radiating up and down his spine, neck, limbs and head.  Each wave of pain sent a tingling numbness through his limbs and torso, making breathing as equally horrendous.  His other senses were also nearly gone as his face was swelling enough to narrow his nostrils and close his eyes, as well as fill his ears.  Each breath also carried with it the rattle of blood in his throat and the taste of iron across his tongue.

The Cobra officer retrieved his side arm from its holster, armed the chamber with a loud click of the slide, turned the safety off and placed the barrel of the weapon to his captive's right temple.

Instead of pulling the trigger, however, he seemed to have a second and much more appropriate thought.  He turned to his companion and offered the weapon.

"Take the gun Chuckles." he began in a calm, but commanding tone.

The former CIA agent complied rather quickly.

"Time to prove your worth.  Release yourself to Cobra."

Everything just went from bad to worse.  It was bad enough Chuckles was involved the way he was, but now it was about to get even more horrifying.  Death by Cobra was at least how it was supposed to go, but Death by Joe was not acceptable.

"Wait-"

Even in pain and weak the Ranger seemed to perk up with the realization of what was about to happen.

The pistol barrel became perfectly aligned with the center of his forehead.  The face behind it half grinned in a dark, almost disturbed fashion.

"No time for mercy, Wayne."

Typically the use of his name would frustrate the Ranger, but all he could do was accept what was happening.  He couldn't help but continue to grin in defiance and yet some disbelief.  He wasn't going to give them any satisfaction of rattling his resolve, but he sure as hell wasn't immune to feeling some surprise considering.

"You always were a snake." he snorted.

Chuckles shrugged, seemingly unrattled by the mockery.

"They've got a better dental plan." he responded casually, half shrugging.

Both men locked eyes at that point, one defiantly, the other with sinister intentions.  The Ranger was unwilling to lower his pride or show fear, but his captor seemed even more amused by that idea, and would be even more satisfied once the bullet went through his former CO...

10/28/2019 05:20 PM 

Starter Example Two: Covert Ops

Rocky Mountain National Park
Colorado, United States of America
August
18:30 PDT

Recon wasn't necessarily anyone's favorite type of assignment, but it was a necessary rotation that every qualified Joe had to endure if Cobra and any other domestic or even foreign threat was to be subdued.  Cobra was of course the main objective, but that didn't mean a surprise wouldn't make itself known.  After all, it wasn't unusual for several terrorist organizations to join in on the same cause.

Cobra had a lot of fingers dabbling into all illegal activities, which gave them more than enough connections around the world.

Their activity had slowed, but they were starting to produce bigger and more dangerous projects which would take time.

Satellite imagery had picked up on construction deep within the pine forests of the Rocky Mountains.  Because it was within the bounds of a National Park, it was federal jurisdiction.  However, one look at the scale of the illegal project and the symbols spotted upon the vehicles and uniform personnel, and the Federal government wanted nothing to do with it.  They were going to shove it off one the only unit they could dispatch with enough firepower and experience to even stand a chance against Cobra...

A small infiltration team had been sent in to gather intelligence on the matter and determine what to do.

There was only a select few members of G.I. Joe that could get close without detection and remain hidden for long periods of time... those with qualified Covert Ops training.

One of them, a highly respected instructor, had been chosen to lead the small squadron.  The remaining members of the team were well practiced and experienced as well.

Beachhead, Stalker, Snake-Eyes, Spirit,  and two recent recruits/former members of Cobra :Storm Shadow and Wade Collins.  Every single one had trained in the most efficient and most elite group of United States Military personnel... Army Rangers.  Two had also added on by becoming highly skilled Master class Ninja.

Tension was a little high because of reservations in dealing with former members of Cobra, especially two highly ranked officers, but the group had already begun to function well with one another.

The shared bond of Ranger Brothers ran deep in them all, making it hard not to give one another the benefit of the doubt.

All six lay side by side and shoulder to shoulder, observing the valley below and all activity happening at the construction sight.

"This one is starting to get bigger than the rest... A new Terror Drome perhaps?" Spirit quietly murmured from his position.

Former Crimson Guardsman Wade Collins nodded in affirmation.

"Not that big, but something similar.  The Twins mentioned something about a weapons cache and armored vehicle production facility."

"More along the lines of Regional Headquarters..." Storm Shadow added in a slight sigh.

Stalker glanced towards his long-time friend.

"Why the long face?"

The Arashikage heir released another slow sigh.

"I'm uncomfortable with how fast their expanding.  It was bad enough I worked for these lunatics… Now I'm beginning to see why all of you seemed so exhausted and spread so thin."

Beachhead slowly adjusted to roll back on his knees and sit up a little higher, giving his stomach a rest from laying on it for so long.

"We still give ya'll a good switchin'.  Havin' you two tag along 's gonna give us a higher advantage over 'em.  Better odds fer us far as I'm concerned."

Snake-Eyes softly placed a hand on his Sword Brother's shoulder and squeezed lightly.  It was a comforting gesture that only his childhood friend could appreciate far better than words.

10/28/2019 05:14 PM 

Starter Example One: Alternate Beginning (Resolute Fixed)

"You can go with him, or stay with me.  Your call."

Emerald eyes narrowed in suspicious annoyance.  Fiery red hair, though pulled back, seemed to almost bristle.

"You mean stay with the unit..."

"You heard what I said..."

Blue eyes returned the stare, though the owner's body didn't posture.  A somewhat knowing grin threatened to turn the corners of his mouth upwards, but he remained composed.  At the same time, he was almost mocking the situation.

He was finding humor in making the woman choose once and for all between himself and one other.

Though his thoughts were clearly suggesting that he was the victor...

Scarlett's eyes widened in some surprise, but her expression returned back to an annoyed and tense glower.

"Just like that?" she questioned, only wanting to confirm for certain that the First Sergeant knew exactly what he was asking.

"Just like that."

Duke didn't have to glance around over his right shoulder.  He could feel the dangerous air emanating from the doorway.  He didn't have to hear a sound to know he was being snarled at, nor did he have to feel anything to know he had a target strapped to his back.

Snake-Eyes had put up with a lot of crap from just about everyone, mostly Duke.  The man seemed to have the outs for him and was always trying to get in the way.  He was a disrespectful showboat when it came to just about everyone but himself.  It drove the Ninja insane with rage that he knew better than to act upon.

What made it worse, they were having this conversation in the presence of a deceased fellow Joe.  Bazooka had been slaughtered by Cobra and several explosives had also killed a few crew members aboard the USS Flagg, and the supposed 'Squad Leader' was pushing for answers to a one sided love triangle that he assumed he could throw himself into.

It was disgusting, crude, disrespectful and downright inappropriate.

Snake-Eyes did not appreciate moves being made on his long-time girlfriend, nor did he find it appealing for the conversation to take place in the morgue.

He knew before Scarlett said anything what her answer would be, and he was grateful and relieved.  However, unlike his superior, he wasn't going to gloat about it.

The redhead unfolded her arms and took several steps to approach the G.I. Joe second-in-command.

The unmasked male straightened up, welcoming her close range and bracing for her favorable response.

Wham!

Scarlett's fist landed squarely against the left side of his egotistical jaw and threw his head forcefully back and to the right.  His bones cracked under her well placed and heavily trained knuckles.

All sense left him and he staggered back, catching himself on the edge of the examination table where Bazooka lay.

"Go f*** yourself." she hissed venomously.  "Joes are dead or dying and you think you can bring this up?  I already told you I wouldn't even consider a single drink in the mess hall with you, a**hole.  I'm with Snake-Eyes and that's that."

Leaving the First Sergeant to lick his wounds, the woman strode purposefully passed him and made her way to the door.  She paused briefly to turn over her right shoulder and address the dark clothed shadow.

"Let's go, Snakes.  I'm not staying here, and I'm sure as hell not letting you go to Japan alone."

Goggled gaze found her frame and silently seemed to respond.  It was something that no-one else could understand, but the redhead would no doubt know exactly what he was saying.

She growled softly in her chest and whipped her head around to avoid making eye contact.

"Don't give me that look... I'm not running away because I'm angry and want to kill the idiot... I'm leaving because I'm not letting you face Storm Shadow by yourself again.  I'm a big girl and staying here won't protect me if you're not around to do it."

The pair rounded the corner, only to find a witness, but rather than being upset about what he'd just seen, his shoulders were jerking in attempt to stifle a laugh.

Honestly, after what he'd caught in his search for Duke to run an attack plan by him, he was about to do the same thing.  However, he'd found the doorway blocked by a shadow and he knew there was no need to get involved when he could hear the Southern Belle's voice.  The deliciously hilarious sound of a broken jaw somewhat made up for the depression of a lost Joe.

As the pair passed, Beachhead lifted a hand and motioned for Scarlett to lay one on him.

The redhead grinned in triumph and happily high-fived the burly Ranger.

After they'd gone, the Drill Instructor rounded the doorway and softly knocked on the door frame.  He pretended not to realized what had happened.

"Duke...?  The hell happened?"

10/28/2019 01:17 PM 

Rules and Information

1] No Wrestling, Real Life, Hollywood/Celebrity, Erotic, Furry, or Illiterate.  Anime is acceptable, but I will be selective.

2] I'm a woman playing a man.  Don't like it, f*** off.

3] As mentioned earlier, I want literate partners.  Spelling, grammar, punctuation, and complete, sensible sentences.  If you can't do that, don't bother adding me, though I don't want perfection as I sometimes have typos myself.  I just want to be able to understand what is being written.

4] I'm happily married so I'm not interested in getting your rocks off.

5] Real life is sometimes busy, so be patient.

6] Mature and dark themes acceptable.  However, keep it balanced with other themes as well to make for an interesting story.  Too much of one thing makes it boring.  This includes NSFW and triggers.  Don't be that annoying person where your character's life is never happy and everything upsets them.  I will delete without hesitation if that happens.

7] Character romance is acceptable, but not without discussion and there had best be some time provided for the characters or get to know each other.

8] No God-Modding.  I accept a selective array of auto-situations, but you'd best ask first.  Otherwise, my character = mine and your character = yours.

9]You add, you speak first, and it had better not be in character or you're deleted automatically.  I only role-play after a discussion.

10] Crossovers are encouraged as long as the verses are compatible.  Please ask first.

11] I'm here to have fun and get away from reality.  I don't want any drama bullsh*t to ruin that for me.

12] Ask questions or bring up concerns.  I'm a friendly person as long as I'm treated with respect.

More to come as necessary.

Thanks for reading and I hope to hear from y'all soon.

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