New Springfield.
“Commander, the information you requested has arrived.” The uniformed trooper places a folder on the well-worn oaken desk, snaps a salute, and then quickly leaves.
Cobra Commander sits back in his chair, elbows on the leather armrests, fingers steepled. He peers at the manila folder steeling himself to look inside.
For 8 years the war has raged on. Man vs. undead. Cobra vs. the remnants of the US government. He had finally beaten the US government, or what remained of it. The President had gone over the airwaves and surrendered all resources to Cobra. He agreed to all of Cobra Commander's demands, including providing the information that now sat on his desk.
Cobra had been winning on both fronts. The Commander's strategy had been to use the undead in his battle against the remaining G.I.Joe team. It was simple; get a horde to follow a Cobra team to Salem, Oregon the capitol of the New States of America, point the mass of flesh-eating monsters at the walls, and make the fledgling government use their precious resources to stop the creatures from feasting on those inside.
It worked surprisingly well. Until it didn’t. The mission before the President surrendered had been going as usual. The squad of Cobra Troopers and Vipers had rounded up a horde of several thousand walking corpses. They had already chosen the attack point, and the area where they would splinter off, leaving the swelling mass to attack. When they arrived at the location where they were to double back, a team of heavily armed Joes were waiting. They suffered heavy casualties, the first to the Joes in over a year.
There was no way the Joe team could have guessed where the next attack would be. Which meant there was a mole. Cobra had recruited several former Joe operators as well as operatives and agents from numerous US Federal Agencies but none were on the mission or a part of the planning process. Before Cobra Commander accepted the surrender of the POTUS he made sure the information in the file existed. Had it not he would have destroyed New Salem and all the remaining members of government rather than making them his pawns. Now, he hesitated to open it.
Leaning forward he pressed the intercom button. His assistant answered, “Yes, Commander.”
“Get me Generals Tomax and Xamot. Immediately. When they arrive, make sure no one enters my office under any circumstances.”
“Yes, Commander.”
Cobra Commander sits back fingers steepled, waiting. It takes only a matter of minutes for a knock at the door to draw his attention away from the dossier. He calls out, “Enter.” The door opens slowly. Generals Tomax and Xamot are no strangers to the office of the Commander having assisted in every aspect of the creation of New Springfield and the continuing attacks on Salem. They were however unnerved at the unannounced meeting.
They step in coming to a stop and saluting. “You called for us Commander,” Tomax says.
“Yes. I did.”
They remain standing as no seat is offered. “What can be so important as to take us away from...”
“Are you questioning me Xamot!” The words are growled not as a question but as a warning.
“No Commander.” Xamot stands rigid like a rabbit seeing the snake and hoping it doesn’t see him. His brother freezes next to him.
“Gentlemen.” Not Generals. The two instinctively know this will not turn out well. “As you know the last mission to Salem was an abject failure.”
Tomax interjects, “Sir, we know things didn’t go as planned...”
“SILENCE!” The word reverberates through the office.
He looks from one to the other his gleaming mask showing nothing of his face. It simply mirrors the reflections of two very still and very uneasy Cobra Generals. “Inside this folder is the reason why.” He slides it across the desk. “I went to great lengths to get this information.”
“Sir..”
“I said silence. I will not repeat myself again.” The threat is not only implied but punctuated by the placement of a shining silver revolver on the desk. “I have yet to open the folder but have been told what it contains.” He looks at each man again, beads of sweat beginning to form on their brows. “I’m going to ask you to open it and deal with it.” He then goes silent relaxing into his chair in the familiar pose with steepled fingers. “Open it.” He doesn’t say it to either man in particular.
Tomax reaches out, “Brother don’t.” Xamot’s hand grasps his brother's wrist catching Tomax off guard. “Why not brother?”
“No good will come of it. This is clearly a test by the Commander. A test of our loyalty to Cobra.” Tomax looks at his brother’s pleading eyes. “Don’t.” Is all Xamot says.
“Brother I don’t know what you think this may contain but we have been ordered by our Commander. I shall not ignore that order.” He twists his wrist away. A tear runs down his brother’s cheek. He turns to look as he flips the cover open. Inside are photos. Photos that cannot exist. Photos of him handing information to a Joe operator. His vision swirls. The world around him seems to come crashing down. A cacophony of sound erupts in his head. “What... How?” He stammers looking at the Commander seeing only the reflection of his own palpable fear. The Commander turns his head toward Xamot. Tomax sees something in the reflection he can’t quite comprehend. He turns towards his brother not realizing that he had retrieved the pistol from the Commander’s desk and now had it leveled at his head. “B-b-Brother.” Xamot cocks the single-action weapon. “I’m sorry brother.”
“NO...”
The earsplitting sound of the .357 cuts off the word as Tomax’s Head splits open like an overripe melon. Behind his mask, the Commander smiles. Xamot turns towards the man. “I’m sorry, Commander.” In one smooth motion the gun is under Xamot’s chin, the trigger squeezed, and the lifeless body falls to the ground with a wet thud. The Commander’s smile grows. He presses the intercom, “Get me a clean-up crew.”
“Right away, sir.”
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