"Affirmative, control" the Cobra standing over him spoke into the squad radio "we have one in custody, requires immediate medical and hold for questioning".
"Got it" came the garbled reply "we're sending transport and additional personnel to your location"
"So I get an ambulance then?" Flint asked straining through the pain, his eyes cast upwards at his tormentor "look, don't even call the police, I'll answer your questions, it's like I told you..."
the Viper laughed and interrupted "Save it. You'll get your boo boo kissed bitch, and dontchya worry none about no five oh; you'll have ample opportunity to explain yourself!"
Flint wondered what kind of interrogation he was in for.
***
"Good to see you Anastasia" Tomax and Xamot greeted the Baroness with pretended politeness as she and a uniformed CG entered the hangar bay and saluted. Banister froze at attention until Baroness directed him to make himself useful by securing the baggage piled on the helipad.
"I hope our prompt arrival wasn't an imposition" Tomax jabbed at her, implying she was late to meet them.
"Never" she shot back with sarcasm "I would never miss an opportunity to escort you, Commanders!"
Xamot grinned at his brother as the Baroness turned and popped her hips, circling a single gloved finger in the air "Let's Go boys."
Bannister, encumbered by numerous tuff boxes and suitcases, struggled along behind them, until Baroness commandeered a crew cart and evicted the blue shirt operator who now stood stupified next to his toppled cargo as they sped away, Baroness at the wheel.
***
"Think about it..." one CG said to the other as he rested on his rifle firmly planted between his legs; barrel and bayonet skyward, his voice altered and amplified by the modulator, "He has to be SO plugged into government to even keep this operation off the radar!"
"I agree" said the other guardsman opposite his position on the other side of the large stylized cobra throne, "A facility this large is no doubt drawing some serious attention...you been topside at this location yet?"
"Yeah, I've been here about 9 months, was working in the SIG center when they first put that in, this place is huge but in no danger of being discovered; apparently our boys over at M.A.R.S. Industries have some type of holographic projector/deflector gizmo that keeps us off the grid so to speak."
"No shit? Hmmmph."
"Yup, Cobras so far ahead of the almost embarrassing U.S. military technology, that when it all comes to a head, those bickering bi-partisan dickwads wont even know what hit them!"
"You really think HE's the man to put it right again?" the guardsman's black face plate fixed on the empty red velvet cushion, then looked to his comrade for a reply.
"You shouldn't be wearing that uniform if its even a question in your mind!" his tone was gravely serious "and regardless if it IS, you shouldn't even speak it!"
"For the record, I'm not saying I'm questioning the Commander, HELL NO, just that maybe he can be a little over the top, ill tempered and such, get me?" I've seen and heard a few things...things that suggest the man's a lil less than presidential maybe."
For a moment the room was silent, only the flickering fire bowls which rested in the floor several feet forward of the throne popped and hissed and the pipes, conduits and cabling in the shadows of the ceiling beams pulsed and hummed; the outspoken Gaurdsman swallowed hard, regretting that he'd said anything and was now wondering if there was soon to be a report filed against him.
"What kind of things?" The other guardsman couldn't help but ask. He knew very little of the man they called Cobra Commander and his curiosity which he might come to regret, got the better of him.
Relieved, his partner sighed, and in softer tones began to share some of what he'd come to know.
***
Dialtone paced the room, radio static hissed in the background and Mainframe steered the UAV home with a blank expression. Breaker sat with one head phone to his ear flipping through emergency service channels trying to get any additional Intel. no police or ambulance had been mobilized to the objective, that meant Cobra had the incident contained.
"It has to be Flint, right? Lady Jayes driving... Chuckles made the call...SON OF A BITCH!" Dialtone uncharacteristically cracked the wall with a gloved fist, gritting his teeth.
"Settle down there Dialtone" Breaker solicited in softer tones, "us losing our heads isn't going to help anything buddy".
Dialtone just glared and breaker immediately broke his gaze returning his attention to the task at hand.
Mainframe finished the recall programming and locked in the grid, he diverted the bird to an airfield used by the national weather service where Joe support personnel, already in place, would recover it; on the off chance it was tracked he wanted plausible deniability.
Dialtone's eyes flashed to each of his colleagues "Well" he said with a deep sigh and somber tone, "I might as well deliver the bad news to Duke in person, this isn't going to get better with time."
Breaker added "We'll send Lady Jaye and Chuckles up for a debrief as soon as their on site."
Mainframe didn't know what to say but made some effort to console Dialtone, as he and Flint had been friends a good while and new this weighed heavy on him "I'll get crackin' on these codes with Breaker, D.T., see if we can bust open this message traffic..."
"Sure is a lot of chatter!" Breaker added "and that might be a good thing".
Dialtone nodded and closed the door behind him, resisting the urge to tear it off the hinges.
If this was in anyway Chuckles' fault....Dialtone swore a solemn oath in his mind, not even God would be able to help that kid.
***
Baroness ran the electric cart full throttle and it it maintained an impressive speed, despite being loaded down with the Crimson Guard Commanders, their mountain of gear, and Banister who was having a most overwhelming first day at his new post.
"Brother" Xamot leaned close to Tomax, talking out of the corner of his mouth "is this the last location in this region? or are there more we need visit?"
Tomax looked annoyed that his twin could not better remember details and consequently organize tasks and adhere to timelines "There is yet another and lets hope that for what we have advanced this organization, they have made similar progress!"
"Also, brother..." he continued "DO NOT forget our meeting with one Sebastian Bludd the following week, when we conclude our business here. We'll discuss the additional training for our Guardsmen and see what we can do to support his not unreasonable request to increase armor production".
Baroness interrupted "Forgive me gentlemen, but Major Bludd...is here, he arrived with the Commander early this morning!"
"Cobra Commander? here?" they both asked in eerie unison.
"Why weren't we informed?" Tomax demanded.
Baroness arched an eyebrow and narrowed her gaze over her shoulder, "Because, I first and foremost take my orders from Cobra Commander, who expressly requested that no message traffic confirm his location and more importantly..." softening her expression she continued "because there is no way to circumvent said order and relay that information to you securely, Cobra's signals intelligence is astounding, so I'm telling you now! with a wink she turned her full attention to driving as the twins laughed.
After what had to be the better part of a half mile, weaving through the semi circular corridors of the massive complex, even taking a cargo lift to more directly access the restricted area, she brought the burdened vehicle to an abrupt halt.
"Here we are Commanders" she gestured towards the interlocking blast doors marked with the cobra sigil, "restricted area" and "authorized personnel only".
She proceeded to order Banister to remain behind and to diligently guard the cart and cargo.
Not bothering to retrieve her rifle, she made her way with with the twins to the security terminal. James found himself again lured to the sensual sway of her hips, as he replayed her every accented word in his swimming head; he was quite possibly falling in love.
"Snap the fuck out of it Banister" he told himself as the great doors swallowed his superiors, electronically sealing and locking behind them.
***
The Tele-Viper lieutenant loomed over his subordinates who sat flabberghasted and frustrated, unable to determine the source of the recent disruption. Holographic aplha numeric strands and compressed graphics flooded their semi transparent visors displaying the reverse image of their high tech HUDs to one another; one tele-viper entered in an ill received WTF? (What the Fuck?) which flashed to his commrades for several seconds. The officer was clearly agitated and reprimanded the men, then took over the back lit glass like datapad, inputting his querry and commands at lightining speed.
The monitors flashed now to satellite feeds which quickly updated with layered overlays as his subordinates looked to one another in astonishment.
"Start here" the veteran Tele-Viper commanded "and update me on any irregularities!"
Rick paused as he passed the congested terminal, another of his guardsman were already supervising the Tele-Vipers' efforts on the far side of the terminal, the bronze faceplate was suggested of the seniority to oversee any task in the operation center but Rick by his intuition was promoted to inquire.
"Whats this shit all about?"
"Sir" the guardsman responded gesturing towards the terminal "the parking complex and several operatives within the vicinity reported sustained interference for approximately 10 mikes"
Just as Rick was dismissing the incident in his mind and turning for the door coffee in hand the junior officer concluded "during this time shots were fired by personnel on site. Personnel report one unarmed, white male, late thirties, injured; non ambulatory, in custody."
Rick turned to to give his full attention to the matter "Go on!"
"Sir, uh... a security team has been sent via Snake Trax to location for containment and recovery."
Rick's subordinate said nothing as the senior CG stared them down.
"God damn it" Rick thought to himself, this was supposed to be a simple brief, it was well constructed, well rehearsed, and now all of that has basically gone to Hell in having to provide for THIS!
Pausing to consider a course of action, he nodded as he arrived at the answer "I'll interrogate the prisoner personally".
"Notify me immediately when the security team reports in, also... I want a confirmation on Banister, when he arrives, remind him why we show up early."
The guardsman acknowledged with a salute as Rick left the op center, coffee and classified file folder in hand.
Things were about to get a lot more interesting and he was going to have to explain all this to Cobra Commander.
***
The elevator bypassed the first floor and traveled on, jerking to a sudden halt. His tormentor entered a code which Flint didn't quite catch and the doors opened into a sub basement of which the Joes had been previously unaware. This definitely wasn't on the schematic!
A gloved hand snatched him by the collar and the well muscled Cobra dragged him across the concrete trailing blood from his wound. "Shut up" the Cobra commanded as Flint moaned and groaned playing up his injury and continuing to plead with his captor hoping to sell his cover; the last thing he wanted to appear as was a hardened operator.
As Flints eyes adjusted to the poorly lit sub level he realized he wasn't looking at civilian vehicles, rather rows upon rows of armored 4WD trucks with rear mounted missile pylons, and light armored tracked vehicles equipped with dual cannons of some sort, on a topside turret; their design wholey unfamiliar to the vast "Jane's" catalogue of military arms and equipment in his head. There were even ATVs, dozens of them and each armed with rockets and a massive anti armor weapon which ran the length of the quad. everything was painted black or dark blue with the weapons systems significantly accented with radiant reds, his eyes flashed to the markings on one of the "tanks", 788 it read under its ballistic glass canopy. A unit identifier? He couldn't be sure.
Whatever Cobra was staging for, he needed to find out. However, Flint now knew for certain, they had no intention of ever letting him go. Flint pretended not to pay particular attention to his surroundings, instead he feigned failing consciousness and shock. As he heard the approaching subway train, suddenly a lot more made sense.
The Snake Trax arrived in a flash of light, momentarily brightening the bay as the bullet shaped engine car blew by, followed by several flat bed transport and cage cars, within seconds the hum of its high tech propulsion system decelerated and a cabin car slowed to a stop not far from Flint.
When the doors opened six uniformed personnel exited the car, all were attired similarly to the Arbco guards, only they wore black face masks, dark blue helmets which shadowed their menacing eyes, and arm bands with the cobra sigil proudly emblazoned in red. Each was armed with an Ak-47, one of which was equipped with a grenade launcher! Two of the cobras pushed a hospital gurney, and Flint knew these accommodations were for him.
Last to exit the car was a bizarre looking man in a crimson colored dress uniform. He wore highly shined black boots and matching gloves. A large silver cobra emblem covered his chest and a gold braided cord looped over his right shoulder. The medals on his chest gleamed in the light adding to his air of authority. His footsteps echoed as he approached and he looked down at flint from behind his black face plate, ringed by the reflective red metal of his obviously high tech helmet.
"was this their leader, was this the man behind it all?" Flint wondered, he had to find out more.
"Prepare the prisoner for transport" his modulated voice echoed in the bay and the guards forcibly fell on flint and strapped him tightly to the bed.
"Trooper" the Guardsman addressed the Viper, who was struggling with having to conceal his elite status; either way...he answered to the Crimson Guard, everybody did!
"Yes Sir?" he saluted "How may I assist your efforts?"
***
Chuckles sat with his face in his hands, his heart racing. He could hear Duke raging in his office as he berated Lady Jaye, it should be him in there, but it was HER op, so she would bare the brunt of this; as if she didn't have enough reason to hate him!
He played through the scenario again in his mind...was there anyhting he couldve done differently to save flint and not blow the op? NO.
***
Beach Head was one of the hardest, meanest, take no shit, sons a bitches that ever graced the roster of GI Joe. He had bounced around from nonexistent task force to task force and had a storied career in special operations before they pitched him.
As a former Ranger, he never lost the discipline and bearing that many operators swear off as a token of conventional forces, rather he used as it core component which he built on and instilled in others, as one of the primary instructors at what probate Joes called "the Pit".
Beachhead had just finished putting the aforementioned selectees assigned to the "Steel Brigade", through a morning of pure Hell. While they were at the DFAC enjoying a brief respite from the days unforgiving training schedule, he decided to pay Duke a visit and give a SITREP on the recruits, all of whom had spent the last 6 months under his scrutiny weeding out the week and unwilling.
Beach Head believed they were ready for the real thing and from the Intel coming out of the headshed, shit was about to pop off.
Stripping off the OD Green baklava that hid his face from the selectees as he entered the CP, his intense eyes fell on Chuckles as Duke's voice thundered behind the closed door to his office.
"That kind of morning huh?" Beach Head asked in his typical gruff monotone.
Chuckles sat up and sighed, he looked like shit and Beach Head told him as much.
"Yeeeah" Chuckles managed, with a disheartened demeanor.
"They got Flint, Beach...Cobra got him".
"Chuckles..." Beach Head drew nearer and his intensity increased "are you telling me you RTB'd without chief?"
"Beach listen..." Chuckles pleaded, he didn't need another trigger puller second guessing his decision, these guys didn't grab order of effects as readily as Intel folk, and it was hard to make em understand when the shit gets personal "Flint stands a good chance of making it out of there without Cobra knowing we're hip to their shit; he waived me off for that very reason!"
"So you had a chance to put a snake in the ground and egress, WITH Flint, and you didn't?! ...Chuckles, Duke is gonna put both boots in your ass and dance son, then when your done sobbin' that off, come see me; I'm gonna want Intel for a personnel recovery contingent, and you were eyes on the objective".
Beach Heads empty expression was unsettling as he slowly shook his head. "Tell Duke I'm war gaming solutions and need to see you ASAP!"
"Wilco" Chuckles replied, choosing not to argue it. He'd make em understand, but he'd get Duke on board first, at least he better!
Beach Head departed overwhelmed, "Jeezez fuggn Christ Chuckles"!
***
If a Crimson Guard Officer was the epitome of professionalism and excellence within Cobra's ranks, Major Sebastian Bludd was the antithesis!
He was a mercenary through and through, uncultured, uncivilized, unkempt and uncaring.
He sat reclined, resting on the rear legs of an ornate high back chair, suspended as such by his scuffed boots which rested next to the dented helmet on the well polished glassy surface of the table reserved for senior staff like himself. The helmet was identical to that worn by Cobras standard Infantry, save for its flat black finish.
Major Bludd was more of a Field Marshal for Cobra's ever expanding paramilitary interests, but having once held that rank in what was rumored to be the SAS, he never abandoned it.
He was a man in his mid forties, with angular features and a weather worn face, scarred from a history of violence. Typical of many Brits, he was loud, boisterous, and had bad teeth, his eye patch made him look all the more intimidating. His hands were interlocked behind his head of disheveled and dirty black hair, completing his relaxed and indifferent appearance.
Of particular interest were the mass of dog tags which he wore about his neck, rumor had it they were those ripped from fallen enemies, of which there must have been a lot.
Another curiosity was his high tech prosthetic, allegedly provided by MARS industries a known business associate of the Arbco defense contract corporation which served as a shell company for Cobra around the world. Bludd had lost the arm by way of a machete somewhere in south Africa and nearly died; apparently a history of savage murder, rape, and pillaging had caught up with him at one point.
Bludd wore a Desert Eagle .50 in a well worn leg holster and had a blacked out Sykes Fairbairn in his boot, his trademark blade. He was known to be masterfully proficient with both.
A CG stood behind him, and as far as the Major was concerned the Crimson Clad Guardsman was his honor guard and attendant, but in reality the CG was assigned as the first line of defense... should the mercenary commander ever decide to act against Cobra's interest.
"Be a sport, and inquire after the Commander's timeline...I can't be waitin' ere all the damn mornin' now!" Bludd asked in accent akin to England but obscured by his travels.
"Ay... n' filler up, I'm fallin' asleep ere I am" the Major laughed to himself, the joke lost on the Guardsman as he glared through his visor at Bludd who was shaking his empty thermos cup...the CG secretly wished the Major fall from the chair and break his fucking neck; In the mind of a CG Bludd was an affront to military tradition and professional soldiering.
The massive double wooden doors opened and Anastasia strutted in throwing her arms out in an overbearing gesture of welcome, the twins followed at some distance behind her "Sebastian....I'm pleased you could make it, how fortuitous, dahling!"
Bludd whistled and righted himself, standing to meet the Baroness in a pretend embrace, with her head on his shoulder she rolled her eyes and wrinkled her nose to the comedic relief of the CG who now stood at attention awaiting the appropriate pause to execute his orders.
"If it isn't the Paoli brothers?" Bludd grinned as he let his grip on the baroness slip, stealing a glance at her curves before giving the twins his attention "If life allows mates, perhaps we've a chance to discuss something of a most mutual benefit in advance of our scheduled meetin', eh?"
Tomax took a deep breath but was interrupted by the more cordial Xamot who stepped forward to shake hands with the Major.
"Perhaps some, Major, do undertsand we are here..."
"On other business" Tomax firmly finished.
***
Jana sobbed into the phone, she'd kept so much inside for so long. It wasn't supposed to be like this.
"And he's never home anymore Mom, he keeps such strange hours it just cant be his clients, there has to be someone else, some other woman or women...I just know it!"
"Oh...don't jump to conclusions Jana, sweetheart, Rick has a very demanding career, Ive seen you two together, and while maybe not recently, I know he loves you very much dear." Jana's mother tried her best to comfort her.
"He just seems so distant, so cold and quite all the time, its not like it was" she continued to sob and explained that she discovered him about to kill himself, she knew it seemed far fetched but that's certainly what it seemed like.
Of course she tried to convince Jana she must be mistaken but there was no changing her mind.
"Well dear, have you thought about leaving him...has it ever crossed your mind?"
Jana didn't know a good way to say it or even if she should but her emotion got the best of her
"I'm pregnant Mom, okay!?"
"Oh!....oh dear, ok, ok, well honey look, things will work out, things will be alright, maybe just give him some time, or take a vacation..." she felt powerless to improve upon her daughters distress.
"Mom, I don't know what to do." she said desperately lighting yet another cigarette.
"You know what, I know Mrs Anderson's boy is or was an investigator of some sort, he could maybe alleviate your concerns about rick's running around, if you want I can get you his number?"
"No! don't do that Rick would never forgive me, oh what if it is nothing? I just don't know!"
"Honey, he'd never even know... and it sounds like you need at least some peace of mind, if you're going to be a mother, you're certainly going to need to know that much if you're going to even consider staying and working this out; let me at least look in on it, God knows we've been good to the Andersons."
Jana didn't like it, but she didn't know what else to do, reluctantly and meekly she replied "Ok."
"Alright dear, I'll make some calls...you just take care of you. Get some rest and try to relax; lets get some information first and then if everything's okay, we'll see what else."
"Mom...do you really think maybe it can be alright?"
"I hope so Jana, I sincerely hope so honey."
"Thanks Mom" the words stuck in her throat as she fought back more tears at the feeling of betraying her husband who maybe was a faithful and loving husband, incapable of sharing his feelings or suffering some unknown affliction. "I love you!"
"I love you too sweety, I'll talk to you soon."
***
While the team of Tele-Vipers were busy researching flight plans, back tracking airtraffic, and reviewing their satelite overlays to determine the origin and activities of an usual aircraft in the vicintiy of their offsite parking center; another of their colleagues summoned a CG to his terminal.
"Sir?" He asked with uncertainty "we have suspect telephone traffic from a not further identified Cobra personnel residence...I tried to pull the file Sir, its flagged as restricted!"
As the CG observed the monitor which mirrored the Tele-Viper's visor view,
a pop up provided a coded message unintelligible to the Tele-Viper but well known to the Guardsman.
"Close it out" the CG ordered as he stood there contemplating the incident "Speak of this to no one."
"Understood' the Tele-Viper confirmed as the window vanished.
The "Black" phone was already ringing in Robinson's office as the Guardsman proceeded to his own desk, at the back of the room. Whatever urgent matter was at hand would have to wait until his chief returned from the brief; even if he knew his boss's combination, he wasnt about to answer THIS call!
***
A gloved hand hung up the handset with controlled anger after the line to Rick Robinson's office rang endlessly for the better part of two minutes. The black phones were installed at every Sr CG officer's location and were used to communicate exclusively with the covert component of the Crimson Guard; the Shadow Guard.
Although a dated device by Cobra's technological standard, it was much more difficult to degrade or compromise such forms of communication, modified as they were. The encryption was cutting edge, stuff the boys at NSA would be scratching their heads over for another decade, but it didn't matter, as Banister was not to be reached.
The black dress uniform of Senior Shadow First Class, Christopher Kriner resembled that of his crimson brethren, a uniform he himself had worn for many years, but it differed considerably in that it commanded unprecedented respect among the CGs, very few Cobra operatives outside the elite Crimson Guard Corps had ever seen a "shadow" and very few of them had lived to tell of the encounter.
Kriner thumbed through Robinson's file trying to decide how best to address this "incident". He studied the photographs of Rick and his family along with those older photos from the life he left behind, photos Banister's wife never knew existed, photos of a man shed never recognize.
There was something in Robinson's original features, a physiological indicator which caused Kriner to pause and ponder, something elluding to a potential defect in the CG's personality perhaps? he couldnt quite put his finger on it, but it had prompted him to plan a visit.
***
Flint stared up at the ceiling of the subway car, fighting the chemicals coursing through his veins, the Cobra trooper clearly wasnt a doctor but knew enough of basic combat medicine to stick him with whatever anesthetic intoxicatant was currently clobbering him. The last thing Flint remembered as the lights and sounds around him blurred together were the cold uncaring eyes of Cobra boring into him and the whirrring of the rail transports engines accelerating.
***
Lady Jaye stormed passed Chuckles on her way out as he now moved to take his turn before the teams First Sergeant, her shoulder bump and icy stare didnt help the situation. "Ah, c'mon Allison, seriously? FUCK.. WHAT THE HELL WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO?!!!" Chuckles demanded desperately, but the little spit fire kept right on trucking and slammed the door to the adjoining room.
"Sit down Chuckles" Duke said standing behind his desk his blonde buzz cut was a contrast to his several days of scruff, normally he kept himself the picture of military appearance...the man no doubt had a lot on his plate. "She'll cool off, just something gonna take some time, a WHOLE lotta time. Speaking of time, we don't know how much time Flint might have, Hell we don't even know what his situation is, so spill it...your version, what when down and how, omit NOTHING!" duke said thrusting a finger at the young operative.
Chuckles swallowed hard as he sat down and watched Duke sink into the leather desk chair. "It's like I been trying to get everyone to understand, Top...I did what I think anyone of us would've, AND wouldn't do it any damn differently had I to do it again."
Duke leaned in, intently focused on Chuckles, intrigued by his confidence and commitment to his decision. He prized decision making and problem solving highly among the traits that define one as an effective team member, Chuckles had the stuff.
Duke listened as Chuckles reiterated the entirety of the event and further explained the benefits of completing the mission..."and now we have an accessible ever increasing cache of biometric data on every cobra operative using that facility, Flint wanted that Duke, he understood as much!"
Duke pondered what he was hearing "What do you think Chiefs chances of getting out of there alive with his cover intact are? those "Arbco" goons put a couple rounds in him, I wouldn't say they were acting within social or legal norms, that tells me they weren't planning on having to answer for it!"
Duke checked his watch and flipped through the open dossier on his cluttered desk waiting for chuckles to answer.
His fingers pulled nervously at his shaggy hair as Chuckles hunched forward trying to think "Shit...I don't know Duke, I don't know. I'm hoping he sells his cover, its his only chance and if..."
"And if he does Chuckles" Duke interrupted "what? they just let him walk? oh wait HE CANT, you mentioned that little detail about having his knee blown out by a high caliber hand gun."
Duke sighed as Chuckles struggled with the truth
"Look son" Duke stood up and tossed the now closed file folder aside "You did the right thing operationaly, and maybe bought Flint the time we need, we're done here".
"Duke, everyone thinks..." Chuckles began to express his grievances but the veteran Team Sergeant cut him off.
"SHUT IT Chuckles, you mentioned Beach Head needed to see you? I need you to get your game face on and get your ass on over to the TOC, this shits just gettin' started!"
Chuckles nodded in agreement as he stood up to meet Dukes extended hand in a firm parting shake "You did good out there soldier" Duke tried to assure him.
"Yo-Joe" he replied with the teams creedo, in a somber tone.
***
When the massive doors to the throne room opened unexpectedly, the Crimson Guardsmen immediately ceased their conversation and came sharply to attention with their rifles. They stood motionless in the dancing firelight as the shadow of Cobra Commander stretched down the red carpeted aisle towards the empty thrown between them.
They swallowed hard as the supreme leader stood in the door way, backlit by the neon corridor, hands on his hips in an authorative stance. The Vipers that served as his security escort filed in behind him and lined the aisle, four on either side, adopting a similar posture with their raised weapons.
As the doors sealed darkening the room, the Commander casually approached. His dress uniform was a light blue jacket festooned with braids and medals, a massive red cobra sigil framed by a double row of bottuns terminating at the belt from which an ornate sword and holster swung from his hips. A crimson stripe ran the length of his pants which were tucked into highly polished boots. His face, known to no one, was concealed behind a solid chrome plate built into the blue steel helmet which was decorated with a thick silver stripe front to back. He paused and surveyed the sentries who watched their crimson reflections distorted in his face plate.
With a heavy sigh and dismissive gesture he addressed them "Oh, as you were Guardsmen." His voice was raspy, of a peculiar pitch, and unmistakable.
The Commander turned and settled into the soft cushion of the massive chair, his hands quickly seeking out the controls built into the arm rests brought them to life with a soft illumination. A dull hum that followed caused the large crystal like eyes of the serpents head to ignite and glow a brilliant red.
With another flick of his gloved finger tips a portal opened in the ceiling and the entire throne began to slowly rise, The Commander looked down to his right his gaze meeting with the mask of the Gaurdsman watching his ascent.
"We'll discuss your sentiments later Guardsman...Less than Presidential?! Ah-hahaha-ha!"
His shrill and shrieking laughter was unsettling as it echoed in the chamber as the throne disappeared into the recess above.
The Guardsmen looked briefly at one another fully regretting their seemingly conspiratorial conversation, mutually fearful of what end awaited them. No doubt each of them had at least considered fleeing the throne room and the Terror Drome altogether, but honor and duty would see them stand their ground and await their fate, if not then the lingering viper squad would certainly ensure it and would also likely see them both escorted to the detention center upon the commander's return.
"He singled me out, he knows its me that said..." The one guardsman tried to alleviate the concerns of the other
"DON'T...FUCKING...SPEAK...TO ME" the other warned him and averted his gaze.
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