Colonel Scar laughed maniacally as his airship soared into the air. Scar really didn’t seem like the type to laugh maniacally at things, and yet there he was laughing as maniacally as you could imagine someone would.
“Ha ha! It’ll never get off the ground, they said,” he announced with mockery heavy on his voice. “Colonel Scar, it will never fly what with the cost overruns and the issues with the contractors. Well I sure showed them, didn’t I?”
There was a long moment of uncomfortable silence. Scar glared at the nearest trooper.
“Uh, yeah, you sure showed them, sir,” the trooper quickly responded.
“If you destroyed Mount Rushmore, God help you I’ll—” Agent Hanson warned with a growl.
I stumbled to a porthole as the giant airborne behemoth shifted and shuddered and I looked out towards the earth below. “Looks like Rushmore’s OK. We’re flying over it now.”
“Consider yourself lucky for that,” the FBI agent announced to the Cobra officer with a pointer finger.
“Yeah, destroying a monument like that would just be wrong,” I added. “And evil.”
“Well I am evil,” he insisted. “I don’t know what kind of a villain would think of something like that though. That’s just so wrong on so many levels.”
“Good, because that’s way not cool,” I added.
“Enough about Rushmore!” Scar yelled. “This Cobra airship in now heading on a course southwest where we will attack Area 52.”
“Area 52?” I asked. “Isn’t that supposed to be Area 51?”
“Oho, that’s what they want you to think,” Scar cackled. “Tell him, FBI Agent Hanson.”
“Ixnay on the Area-ay Fifty Oo-tay,” Hanson grumbled.
“That’s right,” the Cobra leader sneered. “They want you to think about Area 51, that way you don’t think about what’s going on in Area 52.”
“So what’s going on in Area 52?” I asked.
“Alien stealth technology,” he answered quietly and evilly. “With the alien stealth technology, Cobra will destroy G.I.Joe and conquer the world!”
“Alien stealth technology? that’s ridiculous,” I laughed. “Hey, beam me up, Scotty! Aliens, pfft.”
“Shut up, Jon,” Hanson growled under her breath.
“You’ll be wise to watch what you’re saying,” Scar warned. “You’ll see this alien technology soon enough.”
“No, see I already talked to King Ming from Planet Nine from Outer Space and he says he doesn’t want to come to Earth. He doesn’t like the smell of some of the inhabitants. Namely jackbooted Cobra officers in giant flying deathtraps.”
“Very nice, but I see what you’re doing,” Colonel Scar answered. “You’re trying to get me all riled up so I make a mistake. Consider your attempt failed.”
“If that’s what you think,” I shrugged. “Your plan in this thing won’t work anyway.”
Scar glared at me. “What do you mean it won’t work?”
“Oh come on, everyone in this room already knows the outcome of this scenario. Either the Joes will shoot it out of the sky with their jet fighters or someone’ll stick a time bomb on the side and blow it up or someone will sneak onboard and bring it down from within. It happens every time.”
“Really? Well it won’t happen this time,” the enemy officer blustered. “Will it?”
Some of the Cobra troops shuffled in their seats uncomfortably.
“Such a big weapon is just a big target you know,” Hanson added. “What’s with you villains and your big super weapons anyway?”
“Yeah,” I added. “What’s up wit’ dat?”
“I know what it is,” Hanson answered. “He’s overcompensating.”
“Yeah, I hear what you’re saying,” I laughed.
“Silence!” Scar bellowed. “I will show you who’s overcompensating for what.”
Suddenly, the normal noise of the operations center of the Cobra airship and Colonel Scar’s ranting was interrupted by the noise of a pistol firing. I whipped around to see Agent Hanson with the smoking weapon in hand, smirking just a little.
“Freeze, FBI!” she commanded.
“Ah! You shot me!” Scar wailed as he clutched his arm in pain and stumbled backwards to the deck.
“Hey Schultzie!” I called out to the troop holding my Wristcomm. He looked and I kicked him in the face for his effort. I quickly scooped my weapon up and strapped it to my arm. By this time, two Vipers were aiming their weapons at me, but were quickly dispatched by Hanson as well.
“Don’t anybody else try anything,” the agent ordered. “Keep your hands and faces on your control panels. Anyone who tries anything will gets this.”
“Where’d you hide that thing?” I asked.
“Don’t ask,” she replied. “So now what?”
“I don’t know,” I said as I shot the control panel to the door with Winona. “Lemme think for a minute.”
“Uh…” a Cobra trooper at his communications station looked towards us.
“What?” Hanson growled as she swung her pistol at him.
“Uh, Cobra Commander is calling. He demands to speak to Colonel Scar.”
Hanson looked at me. “Looks like we don’t have a minute.”