It wasn't like any of them didn't know Cobra Commander was absolutely batshit; it didn't take a genius to figure it out, and Destro would know. But none of them were really sure of just how insane he was; it wasn't like there was some sort of definitive test, and if there was, none of them were going to suggest he take it. There were some things you just didn't say to Cobra Commander, unless you were Overkill or had a wish to die a very slow, very painful death, and "Sir, would you mind taking this sanity test?" was one of them.

Cobra Commander wasn't exempt from knowing he was insane, either. He knew there was something wrong with him, that there always had been, and most likely always would be. After all, who else but an insane man would strive to conquer the world with an army of robots and a close council of followers that included a frighteningly strong, smart cyborg, his girlfriend who happened to possess robotic fingers, a ninja, a shape shifting Australian, and...well, there really wasn't time enough in the day to describe the other three Dreadnoks, not without giving himself a major migraine.

But unlike his followers (although Overkill often liked to think he knew how deep the rabbit hole went when it came to his "commander"), Cobra Commander was quite aware of exactly how twisted he was, and he reveled in it. Used it. Ignored it. Loved it. Hated it. Knew every little facet of it and exactly how it worked, but still didn't understand a thing about it.

Although he wasn't entirely sure he wasn't using his insanity as a metaphor for something, or someone, else.

There was always a certain buzz in the air whenever they knew Sigma 6 was on the move again. Everyone had their own ways of reacting to it; the meaningless underlings, the human soldiers Cobra Commander kept around for little reason other than for the sheer amusement of watching his subordinates smack them around for fun of it when they got angry, usually reacted with fear. Destro always simply smiled smugly and waved it off, saying it was nothing they hadn't handled before. Baroness' reaction was usually similar but with less smugness and more grumpiness. (Cobra Commander wondered if she had always been like that, or if the natural Cobra mindset—or rather, his natural mindset, which was essentially the same thing—had started to affect her. He always meant to ask Destro about that, his second-in-command and weapon specialist having been with her from the beginning, but could never bring himself to care enough.) Zartan was always excited at the prospect of being able to knock out a few of their teeth. Storm Shadow always reacted the same way he reacted to everything; utterly indifferently. And the Dreadnoks...well, it was best to just ignore them.

However, there was never anyone more simultaneously thrilled and annoyed at the prospect of being able to face off against the do-gooders than Cobra Commander himself. It was almost always impossible to tell which of the two moods he was in at the moment—his actions were virtually the same no matter what sort of mood he was in, and it was rare that his voice ever got quieter than a dull roar, not to mention emotion was nearly indistinguishable between the constant 'I smoked 4 packs a day for 20 years' voice and the almost entirely covered face. Nobody knew why, and nobody ever really bothered to ask, either—they liked their faces where they were, and most of them decided that they really didn't want to know. It was just one of those things you didn't question, usually out of fear of the answer.

Although, watching his fight with Duke aboard the Zeus launching vessel, it was hard to not be able to tell why—which was why Destro and Baroness had done their very best to erase it from memory entirely. Those were not mental images they wanted or needed.

Today, the buzz was especially strong—and it wasn't from the wine they'd all been drinking, because Cobra Commander had been in the mood for wine and was feeling generous and when Cobra Commander was feeling generous you accepted it without question. No, it was more because it had been a while since they'd faced off against Sigma 6, which brought the levels of excitement to unusual heights. Even Storm Shadow seemed a little less emotionless, which was on par with Cobra Commander feeling generous on the list of things that signaled the Apocalypse was nigh.

It was stupid, really, how they reacted to a chance to fight their arch enemies like you would expect a group of teenagers to react to seeing friends they hadn't seen in a long time—only with considerably more talk of murder. But that was really just how things had always been—Cobra just wouldn't be Cobra without G.I. Joe to get in their way constantly, and they had stopped trying to fight the fact, and had just learned to embrace it. Destro wouldn't be content without Tunnel Rat to constantly destroy his weapons and Heavy Duty to take him on in hand-to-hand every now and again; it kept him alert. Baroness was always happy to have Scarlett around to taunt. Storm Shadow and Snakes Eyes practically completed each other, it was no great secret. Overkill's life would be incredibly boring without Hi-Tech trying to crash his systems every alternate day. And Zartan and the Dreadnoks, well—they were content to just beat up on whoever they came across. They weren't picky.

And then, of course, there would be no pleasure, however phenomenally twisted, in Cobra Commander's life without Duke.

He loved to fight him, sometimes hated to be his enemy, but always loved to fight him. There was always a certain rush that came with the knowledge that he was going to get to fight Duke; both of them were masters of both armed and hand-to-hand combat, both physically fit (Cobra Commander defiantly refusing to submit to the will of age; if Destro could keep as fit as he did with as old as he was, Cobra Commander could maintain his 20-something body as long as he wanted, aided by the fact that his face was never visible. He rarely acknowledged the fact that Destro was almost 30% robotic and therefore his body didn't really age), and both quite eager, although for different reasons. Nothing would probably please Duke more than a chance to kill the older man with his bare hands, although his moral code would prevent him from doing so; and Cobra Commander, well...he just liked fighting Duke.

He loved the way Duke screamed when he was in pain. He loved the sight of sweat running down his forehead, his eyes going out of focus in exhaustion. He loved the way he bled, and ignored the pain so he could keep fighting.

He loved everything about the way Duke fought, really, although he was eons away from loving everything about Duke.

The base was quiet.

Well, as quiet as it could be, really, what with all the mechanical happenings going on around him, and the flustered soldiers running around in the corridors to prepare for the imminent arrival of whoever Sigma 6 deemed competent enough for the job (Duke would be a part of whatever team they sent; when Cobra Commander was known to be in the base, Duke was always a part of the team. He knew it wasn't a coincidence.), but that was still pretty quiet.

Cobra Commander's throne room was empty, as he'd, well, commanded; normally he had a group of guards in there with him, or at least some of his more competent subordinates, but not today. For once, he didn't want someone around that he could gloat to, or that he could smack around if he got bored; he just wanted some privacy.

The hologram projector in front of him was showing a fully rendered bust shot of Duke, but then again, that's all it was ever used for. He really had no need for a hologram projector at all, really, and he knew his subordinates were probably wondering why he had it—after all, he never used it for plans or anything like that. He always just had Destro explain anything Overkill said that he didn't understand on the first go, and everyone else's plans were simple enough that he never needed them to be reiterated.

One hand drummed on the arm rest of his throne out of boredom, while the other was balled into a fist and was supporting his head, as per usual. He didn't know how long he'd been sitting there, staring at the projection, but it had to have been quite a while; close to an hour, he guessed, although his internal clock had never worked quite right, much like most of the rest of him.

Sitting up straight (something he didn't do very often; he was Cobra Commander, damnit, and if he wanted to slouch or lean when he sat, then he was going to do it), he narrowed his eyes at the hologram; it wasn't a perfect likeness, and Cobra Commander could see all of the flaws in it almost immediately. He wondered, offhandedly, who had rendered the replica and if he'd already had them shot yet, and if he hadn't, he really had to add that to his To Do list. The scar was too long, for one, and he would know because he was the one that gave him that scar; his hair was the wrong shade of blond; his eyes were slightly too wide; his jaw wasn't prominent enough. To someone who knew the Sigma 6 commander as well as he did (which, admittedly, probably was only him; enemies had that funny way about them), it barely looked like Duke at all.

But lacking the real thing, or any desire to try something like this on the real thing, it was the best he could hope for.

He leaned forward slightly, so that the projection was within arm's reach—he really needed to remember to build the projector closer in his next base, because this was inevitably going to give him any back problems he didn't already have. He put his hand as close to the hologram as he could, making it look as though he was touching it without actually disturbing the image. His expression softened from a glare to a mild scowl, and he cupped his hand around "Duke's" cheek.

It was then that the vastly over-sized doors (the thought that he would have anything but leading into his throne room was preposterous) slid open with a gentle whoosh.

Cobra Commander may have been considered lazy due to the way he spent most of his time lounging on his throne, but anyone who had seen him fight knew his reflexes were still lightning fast. Not lightning fast enough, however, to keep the person who'd just walked in from seeing what was going on; his eyes were almost as good as Storm Shadow's, in spite of their appearance. He quickly turned off the projector.

"Cobra Commander, I—" Zartan couldn't even finish what he was going to say, he was shocked speechless.

"I ORDERED THAT NOBODY BE ALLOWED IN HERE!" Cobra Commander bellowed. "Zartan, leave, immediately! Who let him in here?!" he demanded. One of the guards peered around the door.

"He, uh, said it was of the utmost importance, sir." he gulped.

"I DON'T CARE HOW IMPORTANT IT IS, MY ORDERS ALWAYS COME FIRST, DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?!" he screamed. Seeing that Zartan was still frozen in place where he stood, he narrowed his eyes at his subordinate. "And you. I told you to get out of here, so get going before Overkill's robotic pet gets a new chew toy!" Without hesitation, Zartan turned and quickly walked away. After what he'd seen, he didn't need convincing.

Cobra Commander, on the other hand, collapsed back into his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. Honestly, subordinates sometimes...

He wasn't sure where, exactly, he was going, all Zartan knew was where he wasn't, and that was back to Cobra Commander's throne room. He'd seen quite enough for one day, thank you, and didn't really want his commander to follow up on his warning.

He was so unsure of where he was going, in fact, that he didn't notice Destro walking in the opposite direction, conversing with one of the soldiers (or, more accurately, berating them), until he literally walked right into him and ended up flat on his ass as a result.

"Somebody's in a hurry." Destro said smugly, extending a hand to help the leader of the Dreadnoks up. Zartan accepted the hand; normally he wouldn't, but he was still in an "I did not just see that" daze and couldn't be bothered with his pride. Destro quite effortlessly lifted him to his feet, and dismissed the guards, who looked at each other, looked at their boss, looked at Zartan, and then fled. "You never lose concentration like that, unless you've severely angered the commander." he said, not even bothering to end the sentence with a question; he figured Zartan would tell him, regardless. The Australian rarely kept much secret when he was in a complete daze.

"I just saw Cobra Commander with the projector...and Duke...and the, holding his face..." he stuttered.

"Oh, is that all?" Destro said. "I thought it was something worth mentioning."

"That's not worth mentioning?" Zartan asked.

"You've seen it once, you've seen it a hundred times." Destro said with a shrug. "Though, a word of advice; don't mention it, don't think about it, don't do anything about it. It's really best if you just forgot you ever saw anything." he explained.

"But—but—Duke!" Zartan exclaimed, unable to form a coherent sentence.

"Oh, please. It's not like you didn't know our commander was a complete psychotic."