DISCLAIMER: Don't own 'em, ain't making money off 'em, so don't sue me.
In nicer terms, G.I. Joe and anything associated with it are the property
of Sunbow, DIC, Marvel Comics, and Devil's Due Comics.
NOTE: This work of fiction is a prequel to "Forgotten Alliances." Once again, you can take it as comic cannon since we know little to nothing about Lady Jaye, or alternate universe, or hey, cartoon cannon! Either and all ways, feedback is greatly appreciated!
FORGED ALLIANCES
Copyright 2002 by Brightelf
CHAPTER 1: TO BE OR NOT TO BE.
The knot was perfectly centered and his bow tie was expertly tied. He slipped his tuxedo jacket on, smoothing the lapels down. /Come in Tomax. / The door opened and his mirror image walked in. "Good evening brother. Where are you going?" Xamot picked up his wallet and keys. "The Abbey Theatre. Apparently a Shakespearean troupe is playing tonight." Tomax rolled his eyes. "Such fun that will be." "It's something to do." "Brother, this is Dublin. Not London's West End. You could probably find more 'theatre,' and I use that term loosely, in one of the pubs in Temple Bar." "Maybe. However, for a wealthy, beautiful British heiress, I can sit through a night of shoddy acting." Chuckling, Tomax remarked, "Ah yes, the lovely Lady Amanda Jeffries. Lovely as long as she doesn't attempt to use words that are more than one syllable." Xamot grinned cagily. "Hopefully her mouth will be used for something different." Tomax laughed at that. The brothers shared bottomless appetites for wealth, power, and sex. "Well then, enjoy yourself at the theatre.and afterwards. I myself already have" he smirked, "company for the evening." A deep baritone laugh was his response. Tomax grinned as he headed back upstairs.
****
Xamot rolled his eyes as his date whispered (for the seventeenth time) that she "didn't quite get the fuss," and fluffed her blond hair in annoyance. If it wasn't for the fact that she was willing to invest a considerable amount of her several billion-dollar divorce settlement in their latest venture. He turned his eyes back to the stage, watching Hamlet wax poetic. His interest perked up as a tiny Ophelia stumbled onto the stage. The troop was quite good actually, but Hamlet and Ophelia were stealing the show. His reverie was shattered by an unholy scream from Ophelia. She fell to her knees, lamenting her father, tearing at her hair. Claudius gently touched her shoulder. "How do you, pretty lady?" Her empty eyes turned to him, her small heart-shaped face dirty and tear-stained. She smiled an idiot's smile. "Well, God 'ild you! They say the owl was a baker's daughter. Lord, we know not what we are but not what we may be. God be at your table!" She whirled around the stage, lost in her own mind as Claudius and Gertrude watched in helpless anguish. She skipped ungracefully, singing her bawdy, nonsensical tune. ".Then up he rose and donn'd his clothes, and dupt the chamber door; Let in the maid, that out a maid never departed more!" Ophelia began climbing up the balcony, looking like a half-starved gray bird. She let out a demonic yell. Xamot jumped back as she crouched on the edge of the balcony. A pair of eyes locked with his---the oddest pair of eyes he had ever seen, hazel eyes of green and amber. She climbed on his lap, yanking at his hair, singing insanity. "They bore him barefaced on the bier; Hey nonny nonny, nonny, hey nonny; And in his grave rained many a tear---Fare you well dove!" Xamot could feel his pressure rising as she squirmed on his lap, running her tiny fingers over his face. She licked her lips, those odd green-gold eyes vacant of anything. She handed him a dead flower. "There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; pray you, love, remember; and there is pansies, and that's for thoughts." She pressed against him as she wept on his shoulder. Xamot tried to control his body's reaction. He felt the eyes of the audience on them both. And if looks could kill, Amanda would be guilty of murder. Her fathomless eyes held his as she backed off him and stood on the balcony wailing. Ophelia threw dead flowers on the audience. "There's fennel for you, and columbines---there's rue for you; and there's some for me---we may call it herb-grace o' Sundays!" She sat on the balcony and began to cry, chewing on her fingernail, rocking back and forth, making low keening sounds. Laertes climbed up the balcony, cradling his insane sister as she lamented her losses. He carried her down and offstage, her screams and wailings echoing throughout the theatre. Gertrude and Claudius wept over the young woman's insanity. Xamot exhaled slowly and sat back. Amanda was still glaring at him. He turned to look at her. "She---she was magnificent." Amanda sniffed, whispering harshly, "As if this is an enjoyable romantic evening."
The curtain fell on the death of the Prince of Denmark. The crowd, Amanda excepted, jumped to their feet, cheering and applauding wildly as the curtain reopened for the actors to take their bows. The noise grew louder and louder as each actor came out. The applause reached near hysteria as Hamlet and his leading lady came out. Xamot stopped in mid-clap as Ophelia bowed. She was young, that much he knew. And strikingly beautiful. Her mahogany mane tumbled over her shoulders like a Shetland pony's. Her smile was radiant as she bowed, those oddly magnificent eyes sparkling with energy. She curtsied, acknowledging the applause. Xamot stared her until the curtains closed. His silence was broken by Amanda's haughty voice. "I wish to go home, since you find a closed curtain more interesting than me." His eyes swept over her, the irritation evident in his voice. "As you wish, my dear."
NOTE: This work of fiction is a prequel to "Forgotten Alliances." Once again, you can take it as comic cannon since we know little to nothing about Lady Jaye, or alternate universe, or hey, cartoon cannon! Either and all ways, feedback is greatly appreciated!
FORGED ALLIANCES
Copyright 2002 by Brightelf
CHAPTER 1: TO BE OR NOT TO BE.
The knot was perfectly centered and his bow tie was expertly tied. He slipped his tuxedo jacket on, smoothing the lapels down. /Come in Tomax. / The door opened and his mirror image walked in. "Good evening brother. Where are you going?" Xamot picked up his wallet and keys. "The Abbey Theatre. Apparently a Shakespearean troupe is playing tonight." Tomax rolled his eyes. "Such fun that will be." "It's something to do." "Brother, this is Dublin. Not London's West End. You could probably find more 'theatre,' and I use that term loosely, in one of the pubs in Temple Bar." "Maybe. However, for a wealthy, beautiful British heiress, I can sit through a night of shoddy acting." Chuckling, Tomax remarked, "Ah yes, the lovely Lady Amanda Jeffries. Lovely as long as she doesn't attempt to use words that are more than one syllable." Xamot grinned cagily. "Hopefully her mouth will be used for something different." Tomax laughed at that. The brothers shared bottomless appetites for wealth, power, and sex. "Well then, enjoy yourself at the theatre.and afterwards. I myself already have" he smirked, "company for the evening." A deep baritone laugh was his response. Tomax grinned as he headed back upstairs.
****
Xamot rolled his eyes as his date whispered (for the seventeenth time) that she "didn't quite get the fuss," and fluffed her blond hair in annoyance. If it wasn't for the fact that she was willing to invest a considerable amount of her several billion-dollar divorce settlement in their latest venture. He turned his eyes back to the stage, watching Hamlet wax poetic. His interest perked up as a tiny Ophelia stumbled onto the stage. The troop was quite good actually, but Hamlet and Ophelia were stealing the show. His reverie was shattered by an unholy scream from Ophelia. She fell to her knees, lamenting her father, tearing at her hair. Claudius gently touched her shoulder. "How do you, pretty lady?" Her empty eyes turned to him, her small heart-shaped face dirty and tear-stained. She smiled an idiot's smile. "Well, God 'ild you! They say the owl was a baker's daughter. Lord, we know not what we are but not what we may be. God be at your table!" She whirled around the stage, lost in her own mind as Claudius and Gertrude watched in helpless anguish. She skipped ungracefully, singing her bawdy, nonsensical tune. ".Then up he rose and donn'd his clothes, and dupt the chamber door; Let in the maid, that out a maid never departed more!" Ophelia began climbing up the balcony, looking like a half-starved gray bird. She let out a demonic yell. Xamot jumped back as she crouched on the edge of the balcony. A pair of eyes locked with his---the oddest pair of eyes he had ever seen, hazel eyes of green and amber. She climbed on his lap, yanking at his hair, singing insanity. "They bore him barefaced on the bier; Hey nonny nonny, nonny, hey nonny; And in his grave rained many a tear---Fare you well dove!" Xamot could feel his pressure rising as she squirmed on his lap, running her tiny fingers over his face. She licked her lips, those odd green-gold eyes vacant of anything. She handed him a dead flower. "There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; pray you, love, remember; and there is pansies, and that's for thoughts." She pressed against him as she wept on his shoulder. Xamot tried to control his body's reaction. He felt the eyes of the audience on them both. And if looks could kill, Amanda would be guilty of murder. Her fathomless eyes held his as she backed off him and stood on the balcony wailing. Ophelia threw dead flowers on the audience. "There's fennel for you, and columbines---there's rue for you; and there's some for me---we may call it herb-grace o' Sundays!" She sat on the balcony and began to cry, chewing on her fingernail, rocking back and forth, making low keening sounds. Laertes climbed up the balcony, cradling his insane sister as she lamented her losses. He carried her down and offstage, her screams and wailings echoing throughout the theatre. Gertrude and Claudius wept over the young woman's insanity. Xamot exhaled slowly and sat back. Amanda was still glaring at him. He turned to look at her. "She---she was magnificent." Amanda sniffed, whispering harshly, "As if this is an enjoyable romantic evening."
The curtain fell on the death of the Prince of Denmark. The crowd, Amanda excepted, jumped to their feet, cheering and applauding wildly as the curtain reopened for the actors to take their bows. The noise grew louder and louder as each actor came out. The applause reached near hysteria as Hamlet and his leading lady came out. Xamot stopped in mid-clap as Ophelia bowed. She was young, that much he knew. And strikingly beautiful. Her mahogany mane tumbled over her shoulders like a Shetland pony's. Her smile was radiant as she bowed, those oddly magnificent eyes sparkling with energy. She curtsied, acknowledging the applause. Xamot stared her until the curtains closed. His silence was broken by Amanda's haughty voice. "I wish to go home, since you find a closed curtain more interesting than me." His eyes swept over her, the irritation evident in his voice. "As you wish, my dear."