WEEKS LATER
COBRA COMMAND FACILITY
Major Bludd exits a transport plane and boards a black and grey Jeep the shot pans to reveal a large island. A factory and command facility lies near the center on a low rise beside the islands highest point. A great mesh tarp is strung over the roof.
Bludd exits the vehicle at the foot of the stairs leading up to the main entrance. He is greeted by two soldiers in ornate red uniforms including red helmets with black face masks and lateral eye slits. On the Crimson guards breast we see the traditional Cobra emblem for the first time embroidered in silver.
Crimson Guardsman #1:
Welcome home Major, the Commander is expecting you.
Bludd:
I’ll bet he is.
Bludd’s right arm is now in a mechanical brace from the mid upper arm to his wrist.
Bludd is lead through a busy communications room full of televipers hard at work, there is a door on the far wall adorned with the traditional Cobra emblem. The guardsmen flank off and take positions on either side of the door bayonets attached to their weapons. Bludd scans his eye at the check point and the doors open.
Cobra Commander is there, back to the door facing a large bank of computer screens. Destro is teleconferencing with him. The other screens show stocks, and news reports covering conflicts. On the right in shadow is Storm shadow he moves into the light and for the first time we see him in full. A modern day ninja, all in white with the Cobra emblem on his gee’s left breast a mixture of ancient weaponry and a silenced pistol strapped to his leg.
The Major stands there nervously watching Storm Shadow; who in turn stares blankly through him in silence. After a moment the Commander ends his conference and turns in his chair to face Bludd.
Cobra Commander is in full military garb; a dark shade of blue, including highly shined boots covered by spats linked to his pant legs. He has on black leather gloves. He wears a double breasted suit top covered in military decorations and a golden epilate hangs over his right shoulder. The jacket is short at the trouser there is a deep red collarless shirt beneath that buttoned to the top. It is all very reminiscent of WWI era dress military fashion. On his head he wears a dark blue hood adorned with the Cobra Emblem. His eyes are dark and penetrating. His voice is a gravel-like rasp.
Commander:
Glad to see you are recovering from your injuries Major.
Bludd:
(Still half eyeing Storm Shadow.) Thank you Commander.
Commander:
You have done well in Dasin, President Maimbe sends his regards and offers a sizeable compensation for your injuries. I take it you have left the remaining contingent in the command of Scrap Iron?
Bludd:
I have, sir.
Commander:
Good. (Standing walking to the largest map screen and motioning Bludd to follow.) This will be your next assignment. Honduras. The regional government has been deposed by the military and the rebels have asked for assistance from us. This is a third party mind you, not the members of the former ruling party. Honduras is quickly gaining speed as a major Cocaine supplier to North America; the local cartels have the sense to realize a new government more attuned to their needs will facilitate that far more so than the paramilitary fascists that looks to be next in line. Of course, once said paramilitary fascists are dead and buried we get a nice piece of the profits and continued rights to deal arms and devices to facilitate the export of the coca to North America.
Bludd:
No concerns about US involvement? They’re not known to leave the drug trade alone. It will put us far closer to detection than we’ve been so far.
Commander:
The benefits far outweigh the risks. I have full confidence that you will complete this mission in a timely and cost effective manner.
Bludd:
Rules of engagement?
Commander:
I don’t care if you have to skin children and by reputation neither do our associates.
Bludd:
Decent of you, Commander.
Commander:
You leave tomorrow.
SCENE NINE:
THE PIT
The JOE team assembles in the ready room for briefing.
Hawk:
Tomorrow Alpha team will be flying into Darfur with a group of EU aid workers. You will take one of the G5s as far as Lisbon and then meet up with the UN/EU group from there. This is strictly an information gathering trip. The aid workers will be venturing into war torn Dasin, once there you will observe any activity you find regarding troop composition and strength. We especially want an ID on any personnel you see that are non indigenous. You will meet a contact CIA has set up for us in a village called Kimbejo. He will be working at the aid station there, his name is Alfonso Skurlock. He is a member of the clergy; a Jesuit that has ridden out the whole war. If there’s anything or anyone odd he’s the guy to point you in the right direction. Bill due to the hostile environment you and Lift-Ticket are going in on the Africa mission. If our boys need extraction you’ll be all they’ve got between them and a hundred and thirty click hump through a well organized unfriendly nation. You’ll be stationed in a secure zone amongst UN personnel. Be ready to move your Night Hawk in a real damn hurry.
Duke you have your team assignment.
Duke:
Yes, sir. Roadblock, Gung-Ho, Ripcord, Beach Head, Breaker you’re with me.
Hawk :
Beta you will be heading into Honduras via direct G5 flight from our airbase. You will be covered as a security detail for an American executive, Evan Dreyfuss, who of course is one of CIA’s spooks in the area. His cover is as an import/export agent who has loose ties to the Honduran and Columbian cartels, his latest report indicates that the cartels are backing their own bid for the government now up for grabs and they have contacted an “outside agent,” he believes may be Cobra. We want to know.
In the off chance any known or suspected Cobra personnel show their faces, I want you to snatch and grab. However, I want this only in the option that we can cover our tracks. We do not want Cobra to know these people are gone. Got me? We tip our hands too early and they will vanish before we can even start this thing. I want them alive if possible. Dead if absolutely necessary, if your cover is blown after they’ve ID an organized group of operators is on them and is escaping; take them out. You will all be given short range jamming equipment if it comes to that.
Remember neither of your contacts are privy to any information about JOE teams, they are pros so they’re not going to ask who you work for. They know what they need to know. The assumption is that you are SOG, let them assume. Keep them as far out of the loop as possible and do not let them know if you snatch a target. You’re in, out, and gone.
Stalker, I take it you’ve got Rock n’ Roll, Scarlett, Snake-Eyes, Low-Light, and Torpedo?
Stalker:
That’s the plan, sir. Lean and mean.
Hawk:
Flint and Hoover you’re with me in the CIC on this.
Flint:
Yes, sir.
SCENE TEN:
SOMEWHERE OVER CENTRAL AFRICA
The team are lodged onboard a very old C130 transport. Gung-Ho looks a little green as the plane bounces up and down with the heavy turbulence. The aid workers eye their escorts with disdain. Roadblock is cordial and smiles. Duke stares back coldly.
Breaker:
Not big fans are they?
Duke:
Doesn’t seem so. We’re just big bad powerful imperialists with guns. I always hated these babysitting jobs.
Ripcord:
Yeah, but the hippie types are always the wildest tail. I tried to flirt with the blond at the airport, soon as she realized I was American and saw the M4 she turned on my ass, said something in French and gave me the cold side of her ass.
Roadblock:
Don’t feel bad baby. The aid workers like to think everyone needs help because everyone is a good little child at heart. Aw, he only kills his fellow man cause there ain’t no food. They don’t stop to think that that may be true for some, but most of these types doing the snatchin’ and the rapin’ and the killin,’ were thugs before this place went to hell. This only gave them a prime environment to shit on their fellow man. They’ve wiped out most of the sheepish folks. They just haven’t seen it yet. Give them a few trips over.
Duke:
Protection is protection; they love us when they need us. Shit on us when they don’t; same ol,’ same ol.’
HONDURAS:
The Beta JOES arrive on a G5 and begin to collect their gear; looking as if they are a well paid paramilitary protection group, even sporting the logo for Dark River Security on their weapons bags. Snake-Eyes hides behind a balaclava, tan boonie, and shades.
Scarlett wanders up to him, tying her red hair into a knot.
Scarlett:
Hot under all that?
Snake-Eyes shakes his head slightly trying not to look at her.
Scarlett:
Look, I…
Snake-Eyes points to his eyes and points over her shoulder, there is a brief glimpse of his Arishikage Iching tattoo, but it is not focused upon.
Scarlett looks over. The detail’s ride has pulled onto the tarmac. Evan Dreyfuss steps out, a small man dressed well in an expensive tropic outfit, late thirties.
Dreyfuss:
Welcome to Honduras. You must be Striker.
Stalker:
Stalker.
Dreyfuss:
And who is this lovely enchantress?
Scarlett:
(Brushing passed putting her gear in the vehicle) Not talking to you.
Stalker:
Call her Scarlett.
Dreyfuss:
Wonderfully fitting. Miss…?
Stalker:
Scarlett will do just fine.
Dreyfuss:
Code names only, huh? Well, I can live with that.
Stalker:
We understand some of your friends asking for some serious muscle.
Dreyfuss:
Not out here. (He focuses over Stalkers shoulder. Stalker looks at the reflection in the car window behind Dryfuss of several men near a car at the perimeter fence, watching with binoculars.)
Stalker:
Not very subtle.
Dreyfuss:
Subtle doesn’t play here. Fill you in once we’re in the truck?
The convoy pulls away. Torpedo begins scanning the vehicle for listening devices.
Dreyfuss:
Don’t worry; we swept this vehicle for listening and tracking devices this morning.
Torpedo:
(Putting a scanning device away.) It’s clean, boss.
Dreyfuss:
The cartel flew in a guy this morning we weren’t able to get an image of him, but he landed in a G with about a dozen guys with him. Registration on the jet was clean, belonged to a holding company that we traced back to a folded small airline, owned by Extensive Enterprises. We know he was foreign, not American, but not from where, white guy, late forties. The others were the muscle.
Stalker:
Whereabouts?
Dreyfuss:
Most likely at Angelino Caliez’s ranch about twenty miles west of here. I’ve made myself available for a meeting to discuss shipments to the states. Good opportunity for you guys to get a look-see as my detail. Set that up this morning after my guy at the airport called. I made friends with the local airport bird wrangler.
Stalker:
Not bad, Mr. Dreyfuss.
Stalker:
Snake how do you feel about doing some recon, still good with an IR and a Zoom lens?
Snake-Eyes:
Heh.
THE PIT
Flint:
Stalker has reported in, recon set for tonight. Duke’s team has landed in Darfur they'll hope a secont bird tonight and will be in Kimbejo by mid-day their time tomorrow.
Hoover:
Skurlock is in the village and says everything is quiet when he reported in at zero nine hundred Zulu.
Hawk:
Good; so far so good. We’ll see what tomorrow holds gentlemen.
NIGHT IN SWITZERLAND
The Alpine Home of Laird Destro.
A lone figure stands on the balcony overlooking the snow covered peaks, his breath wisps in the wind. He is clad in a somewhat form fitting ski suit, his silver mask is on. The Baroness walks to him in similar attire, all black. Her raven hair blows in the wind.
Baroness:
What is it, Destro darling?
Destro:
I need to meet with your commander.
Baroness:
You just spoke with him two days ago.
Desrto:
I need to see him face to face. I have to know his intentions regarding Honduras. One needs to see a man’s eyes for that. You know where he is?
Baroness:
I am never certain; security, darling. He moves frequently. The last I knew he was off the Philippines, before that a Dacha outside Moscow, he could be anywhere.
Destro:
Find out for me.
Baroness:
Destro, this is a dangerous game to play. He finds you. That is how he prefers things.
Destro:
What if I already knew?
Baroness:
How?
Destro:
I just look for spikes in production from any of my facilities. If he’s there they work thrice as hard. He is near my complex off West Africa, isn’t he?
Baroness:
I…
Destro:
(Walking away) Loyalty is something I need in a partner, my dear. One day you will need to decide where your loyalties lie. Let us just hope you don’t decide too late; for either of us.
SCENE ELEVEN:
THE ROAD TO KIMBEJO
Duke and Roadblock drive along in a beaten down old Land Rover in front of the aid truck. Roadblock is nervous holding his shortened SAW close across his chest. Duke is as steely as ever.
Roadblock:
Man, I been all over this continent, north to south east to west, I’ve seen Rwanda, Darfur, Somalia, SeiraLeon and a dozen brushfires in between, but this country is just…
Duke:
Desolate.
Roadblock:
I mean, even the damn trees are shot up. Everything is burnt, farms, villages, and livestock. Who in their right mind in Africa where a pig is worth more than a small car would just slaughter one? People are starving here.
Duke:
Someone who wants to get the job done, quickly.
Roadblock:
What do you mean?
Duke: Tribes like the Chootimbi and Desingali go to war, they fight for land, status, food, something tangible. In this case, it was all about extermination, like Rwanda was. The only difference here was that instead of having to hack away at each other for half a decade, with machetes and AK’s somebody gave these folks tanks, and planes wholesale, and people who knew how to use them. Cobra rented out a blitzkrieg. This all happened in thirteen months. How many people do you think are dead; a million million maybe? The Choots were only eighteen percent of the population here. There are two million Desingali pushed into refugee camps in the boarder countries. Eighteen months to do all that. Hell the aid workers are just now getting here. The damage is long since done.
Ripcord:
(Over com) Boss, the village is on the opposite side of this bluff we should be there in a minute.
Duke:
Roger.
The village comes into view it is utterly devastated. No buildings are left standing. There are tents with Red Cross emblems and UN blue scattered about the perimeter.
The hospital tents are filled with wounded and dead. Exhausted doctors scurry about doing what they can. As the team unloads the supplies a priest wanders up to Duke.
Father:
Bless you, my son. I know you have traveled a long way.
Casting Note:
Richard Jenkins (Six Feet Under, Burn After Reading)
Duke:
Farther than most, Padre. How safe is your situation here?
Father:
The Chootimbi have allowed some European media in this week; they will not harass us while they are here. After that, who can say? They have pulled back their organized forces to the capital for the most part, but they supply roving bands of bandits to kill whatever remaining Desingali they find and even many of the supply convoys. We have been trying to organize air lifts for the remaining supplies and refugees, but the bandits occasionally shoot down aircraft, so the UN has been slow to commit to that. The Desingali still have to make it overland to the boarders for the most part; we’re just a way station. We are always being watched, we see a group leave and then hear the gunfire over the hills.
Duke:
Father Skurlock, have you any solid idea who is behind this?
Father:
The people call them the masked men or Snakes. They’re mostly; Americans, British, French, Russian, and Turks from what the refugees have recognized by their voices and accents. Their leader is Australian.
Duke:
Australian? Thin, late forties, one eye?
Father:
Yes. A foul man from what I have heard. He was wounded a few months ago and has since left the country. The man who wounded him and killed General Kinguda has been here in our hospital for some time. He is dying.
Duke:
Is he conscious? Can I speak with him?
Father:
He is in and out. Follow me I will take you to him.
Cut to Grandfather’s bedside. Duke kneels down close surgical mask over his face. The Father stands back a bit to translate.
Grandfather:
(He is in great pain, eyes yellowed by infection, lips blue.) I killed him. The General. He and his men came to my village; I was in the fields with my grandson. He killed my wife. I shot him in the neck. I shot the white man too. He did not die I think. They were arguing. They did not see me. He is dead.
Duke:
You did good, old fella. Tell me; was this the white man you saw? (he shows Grandfather a picture of Major Bludd.)
The old man strains to see.
Grandfather:
Yes. I know I shot him. He was screaming. I heard him as I ran. I found my daughter… She died. She died by the river. The boat came. It shot me too. I don’t know where my grandchildren are. I hope they ran. I hope they ran. (Begins crying.)
Duke:
Thank you, sir. I hope they did too. Sleep now.
The pair leaves the tent.
Duke:
How long does he have?
Father:
Not long now. We have done all we can for him. By the time he was found by the river septicemia had set into the blood from his abdominal wound, with surgery his wound was repaired and he recovered for sometime, but his kidneys were permanently damaged. He stayed here with us for some time; helping the refugees; looking for his grandchildren. Never resting. It was too much; his kidneys began to fail last week he’s in full renal failure now, antibiotics can only do so much. It is a miracle he has lived this long. The man you are looking for was treated at hospital in the capital, but we have heard he left at some point recently. His second is in command of the mercenaries now. They call him “the silent one.” I have this; one of my order took a picture of him on top of a tank near the old gold mines near Attatsha. He is overseeing the mines restart they said. (He hands over a picture of Scrap Iron.) He is just as bad as the Australian. No one knows where he is from.
Duke:
(Taking the printed photo and the original memory card containing the image.) Thank you, Father. You do God’s work you know that.
Father:
I try. Though the more I see the more I wish I could carry out His vengeance.
Duke:
You leave that to me. These people need you doing just what you are now.
Father:
Bless you, my son.
At the tents set up for the JOEs Duke enters with the card.
Duke:
Breaker, enter this in and send it to HQ priority. We have a positive on Sebastian Bludd. We need an ID on this guy. He looks to be another ranking Snake. Tell Hawk we have his location and send this in we need stat pics and extraction for this location.
Breaker:
Sending now, Boss.
THE PIT
Hoover and Hawk look at the information coming in from Alpha.
Hoover:
Hot Damn your boys move fast.
Hawk:
I told you. They get the job done.
Flint:
We haven’t got anyone in custody yet. I’m saving my praise for that. We don’t even know if these guys are Cobra, they could just be worker bees for Extensive Enterprises.
Hawk:
My gut says Cobra.
Hoover:
Mine too. Not bad Clay.
Tech #1:
Sirs, we have a probable match from CIA on the second in command. The facial recognition software gives a seventy-eight percent chance his name is Russian Captain Ivan Sterankov. Former Spetznaz demolitions expert. Veteran of Chechnya. Went mercenary six years ago. We’re trying to pull financials now.
Hawk:
If he has a cent from EE we got our man.
Tech #2:
Confirmed, sir. Account in the Caymans totaling nearly a million two.
Hawk:
Bingo! Patch me threw to Duke.
KIMBEJO
Breaker:
Duke? General Hawk’s on the horn.
Duke:
Sir?
Hawk:
Ivan Sterankov. Former Spetznaz demolitions expert on the EE payroll. Take him.
Duke:
Yes, sir. All right boys we recon tonight. Thirty clicks east of here. Call up Bill we need to plan this up.
SCENE TWELVE:
HONDURAS, CASA CALIEZ
Bludd and the drug lord Caliez sit in a posh living room with floor to ceiling windows looking out over the mountainous Honduran jungle. They recline in luxury and smoke cigars and drink bourbon.
Bludd:
I’ve got to hand it to you Angelino you’ve got a great spread here.
Caliez:
Gracias Major. I hope you realize I have five such villas scattered around the country side, should your organization accept our offer the use of any of those villas, nearest to your current area of operations will, of course, be available to you.
Bludd:
Fully staffed?
Caliez:
But of course. Also you will find the basements furnished with full sixty seat home theaters and a handy secluded room for getting information out of certain… resistant lips.
Bludd:
God, bless you Senior. I may like South America after all.
As we pull back we see a small green dot of light near the base of the window. We follow the beam back nearly a mile to its source a vibration microphone uses the laser to discern sound from the minute vibrations they make on the glass, Snake-Eyes is seen behind an IR/Night vision camera recording the exchange. He is wearing his trademark all black suit and loaded with gear. A night vision/IR visor with three lenses rests on his forehead. We see his eyes. He hears a noise and quickly pulls a throwing dagger a Jaguar sits in the tree not twenty feet from him. It makes no move towards him.
Snake-Eyes:
Heh.
THE HOME OF AGENT DREYFUSS
Scarlett:
Video coming in from Snake-Eyes.
Text on the screen: Confirmation. Bludd is a guest of Caliez.
The team watches with Dreyfuss as the video plays.
Stalker:
That’s our man. The plan is a go. Mr. Dreyfuss, we will move just after your meeting tomorrow. We will act as your security team and get you out of the area and then circle back to do what we came for. Snake-Eyes will recon through the night so we can establish our plan.
Dreyfuss:
Works for me. Just be sure you take out Caliez. The last thing I need is that crazy bastard knocking on my door Monday morning.
Stalker:
Don’t worry, after tomorrow night Caliez won’t be a problem for anyone anymore.
COBRA HQ
Commander:
What have you on our friends in the south, Major?
Bludd:
I recommend we move forward with the deal. The Armies forces are disorganized at best, and there will be no shortage of funds coming from the cartels. I can vouch for that, Commander. As for the remaining government hacks, they are worse off than the Army, no military resources whatsoever. They may lead a somewhat annoying insurgency, but nothing we can’t cut out with minimal leverage on leading figures families. Make some examples and we’ll get the point across. The same may work for the Army. Lean on the Generals’ home structure and they’ll fold. Nobody is untouchable here and there’s nobody left to make us do otherwise. Caliez is fully onboard with that approach.
Commander:
All well and good, but don’t be too effective. Better the conflict stretch out a bit. We still need to sell our quota of MARS equipment to keep our friends happy.
Bludd:
Don’t worry, sir. There’ll be plenty to sell during and after our little revolution here.
Commander:
Good work, Major. Are all the cartels in line?
Bludd:
There is some resistance coming from one of the other more powerful organizations, but I wouldn’t worry.
Commander:
Carry on as planned.
Bludd:
Roger Commander. Viva La Revolution!
Screen cuts out.
Zartan:
Bludd is easy enough to control so long as his belly is full it seems.
Commander:
Like an especially vicious terrier.
HONDURAS
Snake-Eyes creeps all over the estate coming inches from guards in some instances, never revealing his presence, he places remotely activated charges all around the compound. Setting them to be controlled by what looks like a small PDA on his left forearm. It is this device which he uses to text messages back to base.
The team watches a satellite image of the compound with dots placed over locations the charges have been set.
Snake-Eyes stops to view the Cobra mercs as they drink, they are in their gear from the neck down, no masks or helmets on. He watches as the loudest one harasses a member of the staff. The young girl tries to walk away, but he persists. He leads her to a secluded area around the corner. Snake-Eyes follows.
The man tries to unbutton the girl’s blouse. Snake-Eyes makes just enough movement for the man to see his leg pull over a retaining wall into the jungle.
Blue shirt#1:
(To his buddies) Oy! I think I just seen a bleedin’ black jaguar!
BS#2:
Oh, come off it.
BS#3:
You didn’t see shit!
BS#1:
I did. Hey, throw me a rifle; I’ve always wanted a panther skin.
BS#2:
Please you daft bastard you’ll get lost out there.
BS#1:
The hell I will. Give me an hour and I’ll show you a Jaguar.
BS#3:
I’ll give you two and we’ll see your ass be eaten, you drunk bastard.
BS#1:
You’re on. (He jumps over the wall)
He follows a rather obvious trail through the jungle, stalking the cat.
BS#1:
Here kitty.
Finally he reaches the base of a tree and hears the real jaguar murmur. He looks up taking aim with his rifle when suddenly a noose slips over his neck. He has just enough time to register the shock when he is hauled rapidly upward. He is choking, dangling in mid air when he sees Snake-Eyes holding the other end of the rope having used a large log to tie off the rope and using it for extra counter weight to hoist him up to the level of the V in the large tree. We see the blue shirt’s POV; Snake-Eyes in strike position with his knife for only a moment before we see the blade rush at the screen.
LATER we see Snake-Eyes lugging his large pack over his shoulder walking away from the base of the tree. He wipes his blade clean on his pants leg and gives a slight wave. Above we see the limp body of the Cobra blue shirt draped face up on the tree with the jaguar gnawing at his vest. His face lolls toward view and there is blood running from a small puncture in the center of his throat.