Break Room

In hindsight, Max Jones decided, it had been one of those days where it was better to stay in bed and not go out and face whatever the daily horror was.

According to his calendar, it was approximately one year, four months, sixteen days, twenty-three hours and five minutes since he officially joined the international terrorist organization called 'Cobra'. But it wasn't that he was keeping track or anything, it was just that was how long he'd been forced to endure... interesting daily circumstances. Interesting enough that he usually thought, 'Max, what on earth were you thinking when you sought the Corsican twins out?' on a daily basis each morning one second after he woke up and realized where he was.

Even after that long, he still couldn't remember exactly why. He just remembered seeing a red haze of anger when the American politicians ordered the Montana Manufacturers' Union disbanded after a 'peaceful' rally at a local factory, a disbanding that involved the National Guard and the factory's security forces. Somehow, he went from Montana to New York City where he ran into the company Extensive Enterprises, and then somehow wound up in snowy Scotland by Christmastime. He just knew that it felt right, and that it was a good feeling, to have vengeance on the politicians who basically ordered the deaths of his comrades and coworkers. Maybe that's why he did it, he couldn't remember and didn't waste too much brainpower trying to figure it out.

After all, he learned fast that he needed his wits about him. As 'fresh meat', he found himself and his fellow beginners the butt of many jokes and pranks from the higher-ranked soldiers. There was even a memorable incident for everyone but the victims that involved alcohol and a couple of loose Dreadnoks, or 'Zartan's hooligans' as his roommate liked to call them. His roommate, or Kev as he was known to the others, was a veteran of seven years, and already sported scars from various encounters with the enemy. Kev always did not participate in the ritualistic hazing of the 'fresh meat' because he said it was 'pointless', and Max was understandably concerned for his personal safety when he learned that Kev was 'old' by Cobra trooper standards and the sole survivor of an attack that took out the rest of the six-man squad.

At the current moment in time, Max was in a Cobra base somewhere in Europe, Germany or Russia if he had to guess. His only clue was that there was a lot of snow, since he was standing guard outside the chateau of the infamous Baroness Anastasia Cisarovna. Kev stood on guard beside him, scanning the snowy white mountainside for any sign of attackers. Only part of the Cobra Triumvirate were present; the Baroness as well as the Scotsman, Destro. The Commander himself was somewhere in southern Europe in an attempt to throw off his pursuers, the dreaded G.I. Joes. All Max knew of them was that it was a secret American military unit created in response to Cobra's threats. He knew nothing else.

Max sincerely hoped that the Joes would not come. He had a suspicion that if he were in a position to kill a fellow American, he would not have the courage to pull the trigger.

"Something is going to happen, I can feel it in my bones. Stay sharp," Kev finally said, and Max blinked when he realized that his usually silent roommate spoke more than the usual four words.

"Are the Joes finally going to attack?" he asked, hoping that Kev would not sense the tremor in his voice.

Kev blinked, and then said, "Yes. This is the first time in years that the lady Baroness has returned to her chateau, and the scumbag traitor no doubt remembers where she likes to go when she and Destro want to be alone. It's only a matter a time until the Joes capture the Commander and find that he is alone."

Max barely remembered not to drop his gun in time from shock that Kev was able to carry a decent conversation. 'Scumbag traitor' in Kev speak referred to the Commander's ex-bodyguard, the one that no one spoke of in fear of bringing the Commander's, (or worse, the ex-bodyguard's), wrath down on them. "Are we going to see some action after all?" he finally asked.

"Pray that they don't have fast planes," was all Kev said before he turned back to the mountainside, where it was beginning to snow again. "Pups, all they want to do is shoot something," he grumbled to himself, and Max bit his lip to correct Kev that he was actually more terrified about shooting Americans instead of being excited about a confrontation.

So much for a quiet day.

"W...will we be able to stop the, uh, scumbag traitor if he came?" Max finally ventured after about five minutes of silence.

"No," Kev said bluntly as he continued to scan the snow. "He'd kill us before we even realized that we were under attack."

Cheerful. "So what can we do then?" Max asked.

"Wait until we're off duty. Then get drunk. I escaped death one time because I passed out on the floor right as the Joes invaded the base. They thought I was dead. That was in the first year of our war. But if the scumbag traitor comes, then we're still doomed," Kev said without taking his eyes off the falling snow.

"So there's really nothing we can do to stop this?"

"No, not unless you kill the scumbag traitor. Which you can't do anyway," Kev said, placing his rifle on his shoulder.

"How come not?"

Kev turned away from the mountains, and studied Max for a few moments. "How long have you been with Cobra, pup?" he asked, raising a graying eyebrow.

"Almost a year and a half."

Kev snorted as he turned back to the mountains. "No wonder. You weren't around when the scumbag traitor was around here. You can't kill him because of his goddamned hearing. Think of Marvel Comic's Daredevil, only with sight, swords, and lotsa sharp throwing things," he said, lowering his rifle so that he could lean against it. "I still have a nice long scar on my back from one of his blades, and a scar on my ear from one of the metal things that he throws around. Nearly ripped the entire thing off, I think I fainted when they were fixing it."

Max swallowed the bile that sprung into his throat in that moment. "They didn't cover that in orientation," he said, laughing weakly at his feeble joke.

Kev's eyes darkened in warning as he said, "No wonder you pups keep dropping like flies. This going to be your first confrontation?"

Max nodded stiffly. "Yes sir," he mumbled.

Kev snorted. "I'd say good luck, but Lady Fortune tends to abandon us when the Joes come," he said, scoffing slightly.

Deserting looked very good for Max at that moment.

"How many Joes will come?" he asked, trying to deviate the conversation away from the 'scumbag traitor'.

Kev shrugged. "Varies. Depends on the target, or in this case, the targets. They'll send a bunch if they're rescuing hostages, maybe a squad or two for capturing Cobra officers. They spare no expense for the Commander himself. The scumbag traitor especially loves going after the triumvirate members, Zartan and Doctor Mindbender."

"Who?"

Kev's eye twitched. "I will be shocked if you survive the upcoming fight," he said crossly without looking at Max. "Bottom line; if you are assigned to guard Zartan, the Commander, or Mindbender, hand in your resignation while you still have hands." Max noticed a distant, far-away look in Kev's eye as he said, "I went up against the black-suited monkey once. Paid for it with five good men and a lot of blood. Keep your guts while you still have them, eh?"

Max's eyes widened even as he tried to figure out what 'black-suited monkey' meant in Kev speak, but at that moment, a door behind them opened, making both men jump in surprise. The guard yelped in terror as Max swung his rifle around to aim at the newcomer. Kev on the other hand went back to staring at the snow without threatening the newcomer.

"Easy there... I'm the replacement," the guard explained, placing his hands up in surrender. Beyond him, Max could see another guard standing there all tensed up in the little hall.

"Put that down before you take someone's eye out," Kev said as he turned to face them. He glanced back at the snow and said quietly, "I bet they're already here, I wouldn't put it past them."

"Who is he talking about?" the new guard asked, and Max picked up a bit of a Brooklyn accent from the guy.

"G.I. Joe. He thinks they're already here... he's been doing this the entire time," Max said, looking back at Kev, whose eyes were slightly wide.

The guard shuddered and said, "I hope I don't run into them, I heard they have some scary guys on their team!" He jumped when Kev let out a low hiss, and then whispered, "Okay, what is his problem?"

"He hates the Commander's ex-bodyguard... you must be really new because no one usually talks about the bodyguard. There's some superstition that if you talk about him, he'll find out and hunt you down," Max said, shuddering at the memory of when he was told the same exact thing.

The newcomer shrugged while his partner unsuccessfully stifled a snort. "Whatever suits him. My partner and I are here to replace you guys," he said, looking past Max at where Kev stood resolutely at his post. After a few moments of Kev not acknowledging him, the guard repeated, "My companion and I are here to replace you."

"I do not wish to be replaced. But you are both welcome to stay," Kev said stubbornly.

At this point, Max decided to just get out of the cold, maybe find a warm shower somewhere and hit the sack while he still could... and while he was still alive to enjoy it. As he walked through the passageway that led to the trooper quarters, he slung his rifle around his back and then unclasped his helmet to pull it off. After pulling his helmet off, he closed his eyes to enjoy the tingly feeling as the heat returned to his cheeks. He pulled his gloves off next, secretly relishing the sensation of feeling returning to his fingers and toes as more and more of his skin was exposed to the warm chateau air. Sniffing, he smelled something that had to be roast beef and peppercorn gravy, and it was enough to make his mouth water.

In theory, all of the meals prepared in the Cisarovna chateau were meant first for the Baroness and any of her guests, and then it went down the ranks until it got to the newest trooper. At that point, said trooper was generally lucky when it came to getting leftovers. Kev however, easily taught all the troopers that if they stood guard to the kitchens, the chef would offer samples and free helpings of the food... before it reached the Baroness's table. Perhaps, if no one was guarding the kitchen or there was less than the usual four guards, he would pitch in at guard duty and get food.

All nasty thoughts about the 'scumbag traitor' were pushed to the back of his mind.

On his way from his quarters to the kitchen, he passed the open door to the troopers' rec room, and passed in time to hear, 'Uh-oh, we're screwed now'. The words were enough to make Max come to a dead stop and then backtrack.

"Why are we screwed?" he sputtered, startling the other four occupants in the dingy and mostly empty room. The four occupants meanwhile had taken the room's only seating furniture and created an odd circle/oval shape around the 'leader'. Like Max, they also had their fatigues on instead of their uniforms, albeit the insignia was still visible.

The leader, the one everyone called 'Pete' instead of by his full name, puffed up with obvious importance while the other three visibly shuddered. "Come on in and I'll tell you," Pete said as he settled his muscly-bulk down in the sofa. Max always felt like a sapling when standing next to this guy, but he reluctantly came into the room and settled down in the armchair across the coffee table from Pete as Pete's previous audience crowded around to hear the story a second time.

"It started like this," Pete said, leaning forward slightly and lowering his voice slightly. "I was escorting Destro from the kitchen just now, and I heard the Baroness say that the Commander just got captured in Marseilles. Zartan and Dreadnoks meanwhile are coming up here because the cops in Florida practically raided their little base since some little old lady complained that they were disturbing the peace."

"The great spymaster Zartan got busted by a little old lady," one of the other troopers present snorted, Lance the others called him. He winked at Pete and said, "Blackmail material anyone?"

Before Max could protest the interruption, Pete continued. "She, the Baroness, had just talked to the Corsican twins right before she spoke to Zartan. Apparently, America's economy is so bad now that even Extensive Enterprises hit a spot of financial trouble with the bank. Bottom line is that Cobra is scrambling now to get back the upper hand before the cursed Joes find out we're in the chateau."

"So we are screwed then," Max said, letting his body flop back into his chair.

"It won't even take long either," another trooper, who had introduced himself as Sam to Max when Max first came, said as Lance scowled at him. "Everyone knows that the Commander is terrified of Storm Shadow..."

"SHUT UP!" Pete, Lance, and the third trooper, Jarv, yelled at him, making Sam jump as though he'd just been electrocuted. "Do you want that... that... that ninja to come here or not? It was scary enough having him here on our side, now we've got to actually fight against him this time! You've seen how he is with sharp things..." Lance demanded, placing both of his hands on his head in horror.

Sam shuddered. "I thought I was a goner when I was waiting to be treated in the medical wing. Remember that one time after the first brainwash, the guy broke through the programming and wreaked havoc until we shot him with sedatives?" he asked, and Pete nodded grimly while Jarv pantomimed gagging. Turning to Max, he said, "Idiot managed to catch one of the darts and threw it back at me. I don't have lightning reflexes as any of these guys can tell you, but I was in the medical wing for a few days afterwards."

Pete scoffed. "Poor baby. I went up against that mute one, whats-his-name, and lived to tell about it. Now there was some expert swordsmanship. He usually leads the charge, especially if it's a stealth attack," he said, rolling his eyes as he leaned back on the couch.

Sam raised both eyebrows at Pete and said, "If you were there when St... I mean the ex-bodyguard, went up against those Joes in, well, I don't remember the place but the point is that you would have seen that guy in action. I know I have. Think of fish getting cut up for sushi."

Max was sure his eyes were wide at this point and that he would no longer be able to eat sushi because of that mental image courtesy of Sam. Jarv hesitated, and then said, "I think I have to back Pete up on this. I once saw that other one... what's his name again?"

"Dunno, but Kev calls him the 'black-suited monkey', Pete said, and then narrowed his eyes at Jarv. "You're just siding with me because I do your laundry, isn't it?"

Jarv shook his head. "No, I'm siding with you because I saw the black-suited monkey in another battle. He's got a gun, so he doesn't have to be right behind you to kill you," he said, rubbing his arms with his bare hands in an attempt to warm himself... or do something to get rid of his nerves. "Guns plus the swords and knives defeat just only swords and knives."

"What about you Lance? Who do you think is worse?" Pete asked, turning to Lance, who hadn't spoken a word on the debate yet.

Lance shrugged. "I hate to say it, but I gotta side with Sam on this one. The ex-bodyguard has, like, a gazillion reasons to hate us. Problem is that they are also legitimate reasons. If someone killed my dear family member, I'd hunt the killer down too... except with a gun and not a knife. If someone brainwashed me, I'd be mad about it too," he said, scratching the back of his head. "So I'm with Sam," he added quickly when Pete glared at him.

"Yeah, but, uh, the ex-bodyguard doesn't have any personal armor... just those white pajama things. That's the first sign of a doomed warrior: no personal protection," Jarv pointed out.

"And you can see him coming from a mile away in that white," Pete said smugly.

"Could be that he's just that good," Lance countered. "Plus, isn't it snowing outside right now? Your black-suited monkey would be pretty stupid to go out in the white snow in that black body armor he's got."

"Oh yeah? Gonna be a full moon tonight, so Storm Shadow would be crazy to go out in his white uniform if trying to attack at night," Pete said, his smugness increasing as Sam turned pale at the mention of the ex-bodyguard's name.

"Uh guys?" Max said, chuckling nervously. "I thought we weren't trying to invoke his wrath by..."

"I checked the Internet this morning. Clouds tonight," Lance shot back, stiffening in his seat as he ignored Max's words. "Besides, Storm Shadow at least doesn't have to try being sneaky by wearing black!" he half-yelled, startling Jarv as he abruptly stood up.

"Guys? The name thing..." Max said, trying to remind them but as usual he was ignored.

"Black is the OPTIMAL color for stealth attacks! Everyone knows that, even Storm Shadow!" Jarv shouted back, placing extra emphasis on 'optimal'. Max wondered now if they were just using the name 'Storm Shadow' just to aggravate the other team, since apparently there was humor in scaring the other person by using a forbidden word. He was probably the only one in the room who saw it as seriously tempting fate.

"HEY!" Sam screeched to catch the attention of the two men who were now standing nose-to-nose. When everyone was quiet and Lance had retaken his seat, Sam said, "Obviously Storm Shadow is going to live longer, 'cause he's a health nut, everyone here knows that."

Pete blinked, and Jarv and Lance looked as though Sam had whacked them both into silence. Max's jaw was definitely hanging now. "Huh? How do you know that?" Pete finally asked.

Sam shrugged. "One time when Mark and I went on a midnight refrigerator raid, we got caught by one of the chefs. Turns out he just wanted to tell us to stay out of Storm Shadow's stuff, and of course we went in anyway. Anyway, Storm Shadow had a bunch of healthy stuff in there, including soy milk in his section of the fridge. The only unhealthy thing in there, a can of Coke, actually belonged to the chef; the two had an agreement about sharing space, and the chef didn't want people stealing his soda," Sam explained, a faint grin on his face as he leaned back in his chair with his hands folded behind his head.

"Where's Mark now?" Max asked curiously, but felt his stomach freeze when Sam offered a malicious grin.

"Dunno. Went on a mission to capture a vacationing Joe, never came back. I think Storm Shadow got to him," Sam said grinning. He shot a glare at Pete and said, "The Joe was high up enough to warrant a ninja protector, and the protector was Storm Shadow, according to the mission debrief."

"Which Joe was it?" Pete asked, his eye twitching.

"That redhead female Intel agent... why? What does that have to do with it?" Sam asked, frowning slightly.

Pete smirked and said, "In that case, it was the black-suited monkey... he and the Intel agent are best buds. Sorry to burst your bubble, Sammy."

Sam growled and then snapped, "Don't call me that. And as for your black-suited monkey... well, well, well Storm Shadow beat him in more fights than the other way around when they went up against each other!" He paused as he scrambled to think of another argument, but Pete smiled as he sensed the kill.

"Might as well as admit it, the black-suited monkey is better and therefore more dangerous. Max, who do you think is better and wh... Lance? What's wrong? You look like you just saw your dead mother," Pete said, his voice trailing off as he turned to face Sam's partner. Max looked over to Lance, and was surprised to see that the trooper had gone sheet-white, the blue veins visible through his cheeks and forehead. He was staring straight at Max.

"I think it's cause I'm about to see my dead mother," Lance managed to say as Pete turned to face Max as well. Max swallowed nervously as Pete slowly closed his mouth and tensed up while trying to remain as still as possible. Sam, Max noticed briefly, had his eyes squeezed shut and was trembling in his seat. A quick glance over at Jarv revealed that the other man was forcibly controlling his breathing to remain calm but was failing miserably. He too was staring at Max.

"Guys," Max said, forcing a little laugh to shake the sudden nerves off. "Guys, I'm not going to attack you if I don't choose your side..." he stopped speaking when Jarv managed a squeak and Sam tilted his head toward Max, albeit with his eyes still closed.

"He's still there, isn't he?" Sam asked, his eyes squeezing tight even more. "He's got that silver sharp thing in his hand, right? To slit the throat of the first guy to scream?"

"Yup. Both hands. He and his buddy both," Pete said slowly, and Max felt Dread place icy hands and fingers on his bare shoulders. Anxiety and dread began to spread through his chest and up into his brain, the ice growing stronger as it moved closer to his brain. The temperature dropped drastically in the room. All five of his senses abruptly went on to high alert.

Then it clicked.

"They are right behind me, aren't they? Storm Shadow and Kev's 'black-suited monkey', right?" Max said, wishing now that he could close his eyes too. But fear seemed to have paralyzed not only his hands and torso, but his face as well.

"Yup," Pete said.

"With some kind of weapon out?" Max asked.

"Yup," Pete said.

"Probably ready to start a riot?" Max asked.

"Yup," Pete said, reminding Max of a broken record.

Jarv, who hadn't sat down yet from his stand-off with Lance, let out a soft sound before simply collapsing to the ground. Sam jumped and Lance swore, but a quick visual inspection informed Max that Jarv had simply fainted, not been gutted... yet.

Max silently counted out to five, using his heartbeat as a meter before slowly turning around to face the infamous Storm Shadow. For obvious reasons, still detecting his heartbeat present made him feel marginally better.

The ex-bodyguard of the Cobra Commander, the boogeyman of Cobra troopers everywhere was leaning casually against the doorframe to the recreation lounge, a 'friendly' smirk on his face that was visible through the face mask. Max noted that while he was wearing his usual white, his buddy (who had to be Kev's 'black-suited monkey' because Max couldn't think who else it could be) was also wearing white, but Max didn't know if it was for camouflage or if it was a thermal winter suit or something. The man's face was still completely covered. It was unnerving to see a man who covered his face; one never knew what he was going to do since there were no facial expressions to glean clues from. At least one could see Storm Shadow's eyes. Max was suddenly aware of the eerie silence.

'Wait, why aren't people screaming yet? Is this the beginning of the invasion?'

"At least you can tell when Storm Shadow is going to kill you," Sam finally said, keeping his eyes closed.

"The fact that you can't tell when the other guy is going to kill you makes him more unpredictable, therefore more dangerous," Pete muttered back.

'They're seriously going to continue this? Now? At a time like this?'

"You know, neither of you were quiet during your little argument. So naturally, I was curious as to why you were screaming my name when my brother and I were all the way down the hall," Storm Shadow said, somehow feigning disinterest as he studied the silver sharp star in his hand. He looked back at them and, when no one immediately responded, he said, "Well?"

"Ohmigod it's true. That superstition... say his name and he appears," Sam said, visibly shaking now.

"And there's two of them," Pete muttered back as Lance swallowed and mustered some of his courage.

"Um, Mr. Shadow sir? We were just having an, uh, debate and haven't declared a winner yet," Lance stammered out. "Can you please not kill us sir? I have a wife and kids back home... okay no kids and I'm divorced but could you still please not kill us?"

"Hm, maybe if you help me out and save me some searching? Do you happen to know where the lovely Baroness and her paramour are?" Storm Shadow asked, twirling the star in his fingers as he spoke. He seemed well aware that four pairs of eyes were riveted on the star as it moved.

"Uh, yeah. They're both upstairs, to the left, third right, and the door at the very end of the hall. Hard to miss," Lance said, tripping over his words in his eagerness to cooperate. The four Cobra troopers held their breaths for the verdict.

Storm Shadow finally smiled, but Max saw no comfort in it. "Very well, I'll let you go this one time," he said, waving off his brother as his brother stepped forward slightly and raised a hand as though to do something. "But don't count on me sparing you a second time if I catch you in the aftermath," he warned, and Sam squeaked slightly.

Then, as quiet as the two had come, the two men slipped out of sight and into the hall.

Sam was the first one to recover, probably because he'd had his eyes shut the entire time. "Translation: either desert now or go six feet under later, keyword in his sentence being 'if'," he said, opening his eyes as Max turned around. He looked at Lance and asked, "Is that where the Baroness really is?"

Lance shook his head, and then pulled out a pad of paper and a felt-tip pen. He was quiet as he wrote, and then held up the sign, which said: 'I just said the first thing that came to mind, I was scared'.

"That's right, he's got super-hearing," Max said, recalling how Kev had described Storm Shadow. "Sorry Pete, gotta side with Sam and Lance on this one. Now I don't know about you, but I sure as hell ain't gonna stick around for him to come back... it's every man for himself!"

"Free for all!" Lance yelped, jumping to his feet and ran, tripping over his own feet in his terror. Sam, Pete, and Max copied him, and started running for the door. Max briefly considered going back for Jarv, but changed his mind when the trio heard Lance scream 'JOES!" and saw Lance run by the rec room entrance as he fled in the opposite direction from his initial flight. They were about to join him when two strangers, one wearing what looked like a green mask/hat and the other hauling what looked like a serious yet small rocket launcher, ran by in pursuit. Neither saw the three troopers.

Yes, today indeed had been a good day to stay in bed.

A/N: The result of a (very) late night Skype conversation. My friend and I were comparing notes about G.I. Joe in general and then it came down to who was the better/most dangerous ninja, Snake Eyes or Storm Shadow. G.I. Joe and all related media belong to Hasbro, the named Cobra troopers belong to moi.