BURDEN OF AUTHORITY
BY: DANI

Curveball

    Flint breathed an almost imperceptible sigh of relief when they reached the rendezvous point. After the ease with which they had found Lady Jaye, Flint was expecting this little rescue mission to be a milk run, but things were getting more and more complicated by the minute. Security seemed to have tightened up a bit and they were stopped and questioned by numerous Cobra Officers, but all seemed content enough with the "prisoner transfer" story not to check it out. Getting a hold of those uniforms had certainly been fortuitous, but Flint was beginning to wonder just how long their luck was going to hold.

    He was pleased that he had found Lady Jaye unharmed and relatively none the worse for wear. He gave her a quick smile as they waited for Ripcord and the others. Her eyes smiled back at him and he almost melted. Why had he waited so long to acknowledge his feelings to himself? Why had he been too stupid to realize… too caught up in regulations that he couldn't even see past his own uniform. What the hell had he been afraid of? That was the real question, and right now all he wanted was to get her out of here so he could dwell on that with a clear mind. He'd let his emotions surface and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. To a certain extent, he felt like he was losing the edge that made him an effective commanding officer. He was distracted, and in this job, distraction was fatal.

* * * * * * * *

    Lady Jaye exhaled her own sigh of relief as they reached the rendezvous. She was out of that damn dungeon. Free. Well, almost. They just needed to get out of this infernal Cobra structure and signal for a ride home; but that was a formality. By later this evening, she'd be sleeping in her own bed. Although, she thought with a mischievous smirk, given Flint's perceived change in demeanor towards her, if she played her cards right, her bed might just remain empty one more night.

    She glanced over at Flint, catching his eye, and her face lit up at his lopsided grin. She could almost feel the surge of relief emanating from him like a perfume. She could tell he had been worried about her almost to the breaking point; maybe he even felt he owned some responsibility for her capture in the first place. Later tonight might be the perfect time to convince him that he hadn't erred… she could help show him exactly how effective his skills were. Oh, how she grinned at the thought. She could feel herself getting aroused just picturing the images. She wanted him… badly. And the fact that he knew it was driving her nuts. But what was even more engaging was that she knew he wanted her just as badly but just wouldn't admit it to himself. She couldn't wait for the moment when all that pent up lust and desire was released.

    She stood aside as Ripcord's team briefed Flint on what they had found. She loved the way he looked in his uniform. The beret, seated at a jaunty angle on his head, gave him an almost aristocratic look while the shotgun shells he carried so prominently along his chest conveyed an almost vulgar power. But the juxtaposition of the two, coupled with his confident air, and slightly arrogant stance created a figure that seemed to sum up everything she found attractive about him. Not only physically, but intellectually, emotionally, and personally.

    She tried not to admit to herself that she was falling in love with him. She didn't want to set herself up for the inevitable fall, but there really was no denying it. She felt such an incredible connection with him, and even though their first meeting had been terse, and the conversations that had followed filled with annoyance, she had felt it immediately and she was pretty sure he had too. As much as she fantasized about a physical relationship with Flint, she didn't need to have sex with him to know where her feelings stood. She couldn't think of another time in her life when she had been more eager to get back to headquarters.

* * * * * * * *

    Reunited with the other members of the team, Flint was now learning that their trip back to headquarters would have to be postponed. Malignant Fate had reared its evil head in his direction and the secret of why the Cobra's had seemed so preoccupied was solved. Destro had designed a new super- weapon, and the design phase was over… he had plans to unleash this new terror on the world tonight.

    "Hold on a minute, Ripcord," Flint tried to calm him down. They were so jarred by what they had seen that their babbling explanations were completely incoherent. "Slow down."

    "Slow Down!" Ripcord glared at him, "Flint, you didn't see this thing tested! We don't have time to slow down! We've got to stop him!"

    Alpine had managed to regain a bit of his composure and tried to relay the horror of what they had seen to his CO. "Flint, Destro's really done it this time. He's combined chemical warfare and genocide into one nasty package. We're talking murder on a global scale, and everyone without a specific, predetermined genome is vulnerable."

    "Are you trying to tell me that Cobra's found a way to link bio- weapons and genetics?"

    "Looks that way, Flint. You wanna know why the halls have been so sparsely populated? There's a line of Cobra troops out there waiting to be immunized. One injection and they're safe from fallout, without it, Charles Darwin plays grim reaper."

    Everyone stared at each other in silence for a few moments as the weight of the situation set in. Cobra's unscrupulous nature lent itself to such horrific developments, and now the lives of millions were in the hands of a small team of the world's best who were outfitted for a rescue mission; there was no time to call back to headquarters for an assault team… not even enough time to try to contact Airtight as a liaison. They were alone, unprepared, and time was running out.

* * * * * * * *

    As inconspicuously as possible, Flint led his team into the bowels of the structure. Based on Ripcord's Intel, Destro was holed up in a secret chamber with his bioengineers putting the last touches on his extermination plan. The weapon was finished. Ripcord and the others had witnessed the final test. The unfortunate victims, although masked, still evidenced the gruesomeness of the contagion. In moments, the flesh began darkening until it appeared burnt, splitting and cracking as yellow pus oozed from the open sores. Writhing in agony, the victims clawed at their own skin, tearing, ripping, mutilating their own bodies in a desperate attempt to alleviate the pain. Within 10 minutes, it was over. Every inch of the body was charred and shredded. Chunks of flesh that had been ripped away from the body lay strewn at the victim's feet; blood and skin collected on the floor as an ominous memorial to the body they once belonged to.

    Gung-Ho shook his head to try to remove the images that were pouring in… those gruesome images that he would never forget and hoped he would never see again. He glanced at his teammates as they made their way silently and stealthily along the corridor. He could perceive a bit of edginess in the faces of Ripcord and Alpine; presumably they were grappling with the same emotional weight he was. For these three, this mission had taken on new proportions. Ahead, Flint motioned for them to stop. This was it… Destro's research room. They were sorely undermanned for this battle, but hopefully surprise and lady luck would be the additional battalion they needed.

    "Gentlemen," Flint began, "and lady…" he added with a smile and a nod to Lady Jaye. Even in the face of adversity he was ever the gentleman, but his minor show of chivalry also served to bring a smile to the other teammates as well. Perhaps they were beginning to sense that there was something more between Flint and Lady Jaye than just professional respect. Perhaps his emotions wouldn't be as detrimental to his command abilities as he had thought.

    "Behind that door," he continued, "lies the antithesis of everything we believe in. It represents destruction, hatred, and tyrannous ambition on its highest scale." He paused, glancing at each of his team in turn. Changing his tone, he addressed them as people… as human beings who didn't need a CO to tell them they were in over their heads. "I know we're not the best equipped to deal with this. But we're Joes… America's elite. Those taxpayers back home forked out top dollar to train us to deal with anything Cobra thought to throw at us, and it's time to ante up."

    He paused again, gauging their reactions. This battle would be won or lost strictly on the emotional state and mindset of his team. They were grossly overmatched and if they went into battle with any doubts, it would be a slaughter. They were capable of coming out of this victorious. They had the skills, the talent, the perceptiveness that allowed for snap judgments and malleability of plan. But they needed trust. They needed arrogance. They needed to believe that they had the power to stop Cobra's evil plan and that Flint was just the CO to lead them in.

    "This is it, boys. We came here on a rescue mission and so far we're batting 1.000, but I'll be damned it we came all this way to waltz out of here into the middle of a plague. We didn't surmount all those obstacles just to lose by default. Cobra hasn't just thrown us a curveball here… they've loaded that ball up with every foreign substance they could think to smear on it. It's dirty, it's lowdown, it's nasty, and it violates every rule, but we're just the team to step up to the plate and drive that ball right back down their throats. So what say, boys… ready to save the world?"

    With renewed gusto, each team member offered their hands into the circle as a silent pledge and the looks in their eyes and on their faces showed them ready. In their hearts echoed the customary battle cry; had they been able to shout, it would have resounded over the rooftops of the world "YO JOE!"

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Continued in Part Six
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