Time: 2200. Location: A dive bar, upstate New York.
Onesi served as an Airborne Ranger in the U.S. Army, doing tours in Iraq and Central and Northern Africa. He gained the rank of Sergeant before leaving the military. Onesi went home to upstate New York, where he quickly became dissatisfied with his life. That's when he had a run-in with an old friend, Fintak. The two began hanging out at the local bars, Fintak always picking up the tab. Fintak would also leave town for work for weeks at a time. After one night of heavy drinking, Onesi broached the subject of Fintak's employment, a subject that he had avoided. Onesi pressed.
"C'mon. What do you do? Deal drugs? Run guns? What?"
"Well… how about you come with me. You can see first hand."
"When?"
"Well, I'm heading off tomorrow morning."
"I can't, man. Gotta work."
"Screw work. What're you making over there? 10, 12 bucks an hour. What the hell do they need security for anyway. Fuck man, you were a god damn Ranger. This is how the government repays you for your service. A shitty security job. Shit man. You come with me, and you'll never need to worry about cash again."
"C'mon, what the hell do you do?"
"If you're serious about finding out. Meet me at my place at 6am."
At that, Fintak stumbled his way out of the bar. The next morning, as he opened the door, there was Onesi waiting on the porch. A smile curled across Fintak's lips.
"Thought you might need this. I know I did."
Fintak takes the styrofoam cup, "Glad you made it."
"Didn't know if I would, man. I was pretty messed up last night."
"Don't worry about that now. Our ride's here."
At that, a black-on-black Tahoe honks. Fintak walks over and opens the rear door. Onesi hesitates.
"You comin' or what?"
"Yeah." He walks over to the SUV, unable to see who or what might be inside. Fintak waves him in first. He climbs over to the farthest seat. The door slams and he hears the clicking of Fintak's seatbelt.
Three men sit in the car; the driver and passenger look like they could be brothers, both have shaved heads, Bic-ed, with well-trimmed goatees. Their biggest difference is in the eyes. The driver's are close-set, small, and evil. The passengers are bright and shiny and match the crooked smirk on he seems to wear perpetually.
"Who's the new guy, Xhairs (pronounced CrossHairs)?" This is from a guy in the back. Scraggly hair and beard, questioning eyes framed by small rectangular glasses. He must be growing hair for the other two.
"Oh, this is the guy I told you about. My good buddy JD. JD, this is Lee, Crouch, and Young."
"Hey man, what's up? You ready for a great weekend." This is from the smirker, Young.
"Yeah… I guess so. Where are we heading?"
"You haven't told him yet?" This time the driver, Crouch.
"No, I figured it could be a surprise."
"Oh, it will be." The driver's eyes narrow, sending off a feeling of unease. "It will be."
_________________________
The drive is like any other. The guys talk, listen to music, argue the merits of the local politicians. Onesi's initial feeling of unease is quickly wiped away by the camaraderie of the guys in the truck. Normal guys. Guys with girlfriends. Guys with kids. Guys with car trouble. Guys who all served their country. Normal guys.
They drive for several hours to a small commuter airport on the outskirts of nowhere New York. They pull up to a hangar. A guy sits back in a lawn chair, feet up on a cooler. A Bud in hand, he nods his head as the Tahoe pulls into a spot next to the hangar. The guys jump out of the truck and walk over to the guy in the chair.
"'Bout damn time. I was worried I'd have to kill this 24 pack alone."
"Fuck that, toss me one, will ya, Nason."
Nason tosses Lee a Bud then cracks open another one for himself. "You guys want one?"
"You know it." Crouch catches his beer and pops the top.
"What about you, man? It's the last beer for the week. Now or never. We take off in 15."
Onesi looks questioningly at Fintak. "You didn't tell me we were flying anywhere."
"Slipped my mind. No worries, man. Grab a beer. Hey Nason, this is my buddy JD, toss him one."
The guys drink several beers in minutes the whole time talking about sports and women. After 15 minutes, Nason stands up. "Alright, guys, let's get this bird in the air."
It's not long before the plane takes off. Flying a course due west. To where? Everyone but Onesi knows, but he doesn't care anymore. He thinks to himself, 'Wherever they're going can't be that bad, these guys are good shit.' Time passes. The flight is uneventful. Everyone seems to pass out at one point or another. All except Nason. It wasn't until the plane touched down that Onesi woke up.
"Place your tray tables in their upright position and shit like that."
"All right, Onesi, welcome to Barracks."
Onesi steps out of the plane and takes it all in. The landing strip is nothing more than a field. Off to the left side are hangars, all but one occupied by a similar small Cessna like the one he just flew in. To the right, several small buildings, shacks really. Cobbled together from corrugated aluminum and plywood. All around are men. Nondescript, most wearing jeans and blue coats. All with guns. AK-47s. He thinks to himself, 'What the hell have I gotten myself into?'
"Come on, man, let me show you around." Fintak leads Onesi towards one of the buildings as Lee, Crouch, and Young head to the neighboring one. Nason brings the plane over to the empty hangar. From the outside, the building looks to be no more than 10' x 15'. They enter a room approximately 10' x 10'. The inside of the building is as dull and poorly constructed as the outside. The floorboards creaking with each step. The sunlight from outside fighting to filter through the filthy windows. A series of bare lightbulbs swing from the ceiling.
Four guys in blue coats play cards at a folding table. Another two sit at what looks like an old HAM radio. There's a fridge in one corner next to a leaky sink. The building gives off an air of depression. The men, however, all take in Fintak and Onesi. Each, raising his eyes and looking the new guy over. Onesi has seen stuff like that before, once while on tour in Baghdad. Guys like this were scary shit.
"Dude, what is this place, man? What's with the guns? What're you some kinda crazy militia?"
"Something like that, just be careful throwing out that word crazy."
"Get me out of here, man."
"No turning back now. Trust me, man, it'll be okay. Just follow me." Fintak walks off toward the door on the far side of the room, his head nodding to each guy as he passed. "Come on, man. Trust me."
Against his better judgment, Onesi follows his buddy, thinking, 'Anywhere has to be better than this den of snakes.' Walking through the door, Onesi is completely caught off guard. He expected a room full of drugs or weapons, not this. The walls seem to be an armored set of elevator doors that stand directly across from the reinforced wooden door. Standing to either side of the elevator are men in uniform. A uniform, unlike anything Onesi has ever seen. Instead of subdued Earth tones and camouflage, these men wear uniforms of a stark blue. Their knee-high black boots gleam under the bright lights of the entry and remind Onesi of pictures of German soldiers in WWII. Black gloves with reinforced guards cover the forearms. They wear heavy flak jackets complete with several grenades each on the right shoulder, a blazing red Cobra head on the left. Their faces are hidden behind reflective faceplates mounted in blue helmets. The weapons they held were unlike any Onesi was familiar with.
Fintak was standing, arms raised, being searched by a third of what Onesi would learn are the backbone of the Cobra organization, the Vipers. After being searched, Fintak pushed his friend over toward the Viper, "It'll only take a minute." After a quick but thorough pat-down, the elevator doors opened, and the two stepped in.
"What the fuck, man! Where the fuck did you take me? Like… what the fuck. Who the fuck were those guys?"
"They're Vipers."
"Vipers?! What the fuck is a Viper?"
"Listen, man, you need to relax. You wanted to come with me, remember. You showed up. You could have stayed home, slept in, went to your shit job, lived paycheck to paycheck. I told you you could make hand over fist money, and you came. Now! Now you want to question everything. Now what? Do you want to leave? You won't get far. I thought you were made of better stuff than this. You sound like a damn pussy. Oh, boohoo, I was frisked. Boohoo, these guys have guns. Did you lose your balls, man?! You have two choices; either you get the fuck off this elevator and enjoy your new life, or you take your chances up top." At that, the doors open, and Fintak walks off, leaving Onesi alone.
"Fuck! What the fuck!" Onesi steps off the elevator into an underground bunker. It wasn't easy. Getting in was the easy part. He came to learn that Cobra had been watching him for some time. They had a file on him. They knew how he'd respond. The whole thing had been a setup from the get-go. But in the end, he found wealth beyond anything he imagined. Camaraderie, even tighter than his days in the Rangers. He followed orders and earned his rank. And he never looked back. Onesi served as an Airborne Ranger in the U.S. Army