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Disclaimer: G.I. Joe, Cobra, and their associated characters are the property of Hasbro International and its licensees, Marvel Comics Group and Devil's Due Publishing, Inc. These characters are used without permission of their owners. No profit is being made from the use of the characters, and the author makes no claim to them. All other characters and original elements of this story are the intellectual property of the author.
Cancelled
"Hey, Major," Sergeant Miles Carter called from his seat at the card table. The other men in the room stopped what they were doing and turned to look at their field commander standing in the doorway.
Major Bludd surveyed the recreation room, his bomber jacket slung over one shoulder. A battered card table occupied half of the small room, and a pool table claimed the other half. Off in one corner was a mini-fridge, and a bookcase clung shakily to the wall beside the door. It looked as if it had been hand-made with two-by-fours by someone with little carpentry skills. Bludd picked a ratty deck of cards off the sad little piece of furniture and regarded it. It, like much in the room, had clearly seen better days. Lacking a box, it was bound with a couple of rubber bands.
"What're you doin' here?" Carter continued. "I thought you were gonna be halfway to China by now."
Corporal Jason Robinson regarded the sour look on his commander's face and grinned. "He got cancelled!"
Bludd frowned, turning the deck of cards over in his fingers.
His eyes on Bludd, Lieutenant Brian Krommes handed Carter a beer. "Really, sir? Command -"
"Revoked my leave, yes." Bludd kicked the door closed behind him. "I'm not totally surprised."
Robinson cackled with glee. "I can't believe it! Finally somebody besides us gets shafted!"
With a flick of his wrist, Bludd sent the deck of cards through the air, where they impacted sharply with the center of Robinson's forehead. The trooper's head recoiled from the force of the surprise strike, and the cards landed in his lap. "Shut up, Robinson," Bludd said tiredly.
Carter and Krommes laughed as Robinson ruefully rubbed the dent in his forehead. Robinson picked up the deck of cards. "This mean you wanna play cards with us tonight, Major?"
"I suppose it does." Bludd threw his leather jacket on the beaten sofa, which was hiding under a pile of haphazardly cast-aside newspapers. "My common sense has apparently taken leave of me."
Carter had claimed the cards from Robinson and was shuffling them ostentatiously. "So what'll it be, boys -- stud, draw, hold 'em..."
"That's not fair," Robinson complained. "The Major makes boatloads more dough than us lowly troopers. It's an uneven playing field."
"It won't matter," Bludd said, sliding into a seat at the table. "I'm lousy at poker anyway."
Carter grinned. "You wanna set the stakes, then, Major?"
"Yeah, Bludd, whaddya got?" Robinson took a beer bottle from Krommes.
Bludd leaned over to snag his jacket from the sofa and rummaged in the inside pocket for his wallet. "Looks like about fifty," he replied, thumbing through a few bills.
"That's it?"
"You think I carry around loads of American cash to a foreign country? What kind of a fool do you take me for?"
"Oh, we're gonna take you, alright," Robinson leered at the money in Bludd's hands. "Fifty it is. For starters."
Krommes sat down at the table and handed his commander a beer. "We'll let you go for more if you need it, Major." Bludd's normally serious lieutenant couldn't help the grin on his face.
Bludd gazed at the label on the bottle disdainfully. "I've never even heard of this stuff before. Where do you guys get your -"
"From Supply, sir," Carter interrupted.
"Yeah, for once you get to share the swill Command thinks we deserve." Robinson put his booted feet up on the table and leaned back in his chair.
Krommes took out the chip carousel and the cash box. He began counting out chips.
Bludd opened the bottle and sniffed at its contents hesitantly.
"Man, this is great," Robinson laughed. "What an equalizer!"
Reading the label, Bludd fingered the metal bottlecap, holding it the way he'd been holding the deck of cards when he'd entered. He flicked a sidewise glance at Robinson and his grin-split face.
Robinson suddenly found his bootlaces very interesting. He picked at a bit of dirt on the toe of his shoe.
Bludd took a swig of the beer. The others all watched for his reaction. His brow furrowed, and he regarded the label again. "I've had worse," he declared.
"Heh, yeah?" Carter had started building a house of cards.
"You wouldn't believe the stuff that passes for comestibles in the Legion."
"What?" Robinson sat up straight in his chair, shaking the table and destroying Carter's fledgling card house. "What does burning stuff down have to do with -"
"Comestibles, Robinson," Bludd explained. "Foodstuffs."
"Oh." Robinson looked around at the other men. "Why does he use such big words?"
Bludd closed his eyes for a moment, resisting the urge to drop his face into his palm. Krommes handed out chips and gathered the cash from the other men, then cashed himself in. "You guys wanna order pizza or something?"
"You mean we have to agree on toppings?" Carter whined. "That'll take all night!"
"Just get cheese, for god's sake," insisted Robinson.
Krommes looked at Bludd inquiringly.
"I'll eat whatever you order," Bludd answered disinterestedly. "It makes no difference to me." He fully expected the trio to deliberately order something horrid just to make him uneasy. "I came here to distract myself from the demise of my holiday. Food is secondary."
"Food is never secondary, Major," Carter said seriously.
"D'ya think Croakey's has octopus?" Robinson chuckled, confirming Bludd's suspicion.
"Augh!" shrieked Carter. "No freakin' way!" Bludd had to snicker at the man's extreme reaction.
"Can we agree on pepperoni?" Krommes asked, heading for the door. He fumbled in his pocket for change for the pay phone in the hall.
"And bacon!" shouted Carter.
"Anchovies!" Robinson insisted.
Bludd just shook his head. "Do you lot actually play cards on a Friday night, or do you just spend all night arguing over pizza toppings?"
Krommes was halfway out the door. "I'm ordering pepperoni," he proclaimed. "Nobody in here hates pepperoni." The door closed behind him. Carter and Robinson continued to argue over the merits of their respective favorite pizza toppings.
It's nice to not be in charge for once, Bludd thought. //Krommes knows how to take charge of a situation. Even a pizza situation. He chuckled.
*
Two hours later, his mood had dampened somewhat. As predicted, his men were beating him rather soundly. He'd quickly been relieved of the fifty dollars he'd been carrying. When they'd taken a break some forty-five minutes ago, he'd come back with another hundred, the last chip of which was lying in the pot in the center of the game table.
"/Merde/," Bludd swore, flipping his final lousy hand of cards onto the pile of chips in the center of the table. "I'm done." He stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray at his elbow.
"I guess that means all this is mine," crowed Carter, raking in the chips.
Bludd pushed his chair back, stood, and stretched. "What'd you have, for crying out loud?"
"Aces an' eights," Carter laid his cards out on the table.
"Dead Man's Hand," the others chorused. Robinson cracked his knuckles. Carter froze momentarily, a worried look sprouting on his face, his arms outstretched over the pile of chips. His eyes flicked from one man to the next.
Bludd laughed. "I'm too tired to kill you now, Carter."
Carter relaxed slightly and resumed collecting his booty.
"These blokes, however," he jerked a thumb at Robinson and Krommes, "most certainly have their own ideas." He ambled toward the door.
"You leavin' us, Major?" Krommes inquired.
As Bludd reached out his hand for the doorknob, the door opened toward him and a spindly, towheaded youth entered.
"Ah, h-hello, sir," Cameron Daly stammered, stopping in his tracks. He stared at Bludd, his eyes wide.
"Daly," Bludd greeted nonchalantly. Noticing the new recruit's stunned expression, he added, "Are you in trouble for something I ought to know about?"
"No, sir!" Daly spluttered.
"Then get in here and out of my way."
"Yessir!" Daly hurriedly sidestepped Bludd, his hand still on the door. He attempted to close it behind him but found himself unable to, as Bludd was holding the doorknob. After a quick glance at his commander, he blushed and vacated the doorway. "Sorry, sir."
"Yeah, Daly, c'mon in," Carter said, stacking his chips in neat piles. "We've just learned all the swear words in French."
"Yes, and there'll be a quiz when I return," Bludd replied with a smile. "I hope you all took good notes."
"Where're you off to, Bludd?" Robinson's speech had become slurred half an hour ago. We've only taken ya fer ..." He looked at Krommes. "How much've we taken 'im for?"
"One-fifty," Krommes replied.
"What he said," the dark-haired trooper continued. "You ain't bailin' after jus' that, areya?"
"/Je dois pisser/," Bludd said, walking out into the hall.
"What?"
Daly smiled. "Potty break."
Cancelled
"Hey, Major," Sergeant Miles Carter called from his seat at the card table. The other men in the room stopped what they were doing and turned to look at their field commander standing in the doorway.
Major Bludd surveyed the recreation room, his bomber jacket slung over one shoulder. A battered card table occupied half of the small room, and a pool table claimed the other half. Off in one corner was a mini-fridge, and a bookcase clung shakily to the wall beside the door. It looked as if it had been hand-made with two-by-fours by someone with little carpentry skills. Bludd picked a ratty deck of cards off the sad little piece of furniture and regarded it. It, like much in the room, had clearly seen better days. Lacking a box, it was bound with a couple of rubber bands.
"What're you doin' here?" Carter continued. "I thought you were gonna be halfway to China by now."
Corporal Jason Robinson regarded the sour look on his commander's face and grinned. "He got cancelled!"
Bludd frowned, turning the deck of cards over in his fingers.
His eyes on Bludd, Lieutenant Brian Krommes handed Carter a beer. "Really, sir? Command -"
"Revoked my leave, yes." Bludd kicked the door closed behind him. "I'm not totally surprised."
Robinson cackled with glee. "I can't believe it! Finally somebody besides us gets shafted!"
With a flick of his wrist, Bludd sent the deck of cards through the air, where they impacted sharply with the center of Robinson's forehead. The trooper's head recoiled from the force of the surprise strike, and the cards landed in his lap. "Shut up, Robinson," Bludd said tiredly.
Carter and Krommes laughed as Robinson ruefully rubbed the dent in his forehead. Robinson picked up the deck of cards. "This mean you wanna play cards with us tonight, Major?"
"I suppose it does." Bludd threw his leather jacket on the beaten sofa, which was hiding under a pile of haphazardly cast-aside newspapers. "My common sense has apparently taken leave of me."
Carter had claimed the cards from Robinson and was shuffling them ostentatiously. "So what'll it be, boys -- stud, draw, hold 'em..."
"That's not fair," Robinson complained. "The Major makes boatloads more dough than us lowly troopers. It's an uneven playing field."
"It won't matter," Bludd said, sliding into a seat at the table. "I'm lousy at poker anyway."
Carter grinned. "You wanna set the stakes, then, Major?"
"Yeah, Bludd, whaddya got?" Robinson took a beer bottle from Krommes.
Bludd leaned over to snag his jacket from the sofa and rummaged in the inside pocket for his wallet. "Looks like about fifty," he replied, thumbing through a few bills.
"That's it?"
"You think I carry around loads of American cash to a foreign country? What kind of a fool do you take me for?"
"Oh, we're gonna take you, alright," Robinson leered at the money in Bludd's hands. "Fifty it is. For starters."
Krommes sat down at the table and handed his commander a beer. "We'll let you go for more if you need it, Major." Bludd's normally serious lieutenant couldn't help the grin on his face.
Bludd gazed at the label on the bottle disdainfully. "I've never even heard of this stuff before. Where do you guys get your -"
"From Supply, sir," Carter interrupted.
"Yeah, for once you get to share the swill Command thinks we deserve." Robinson put his booted feet up on the table and leaned back in his chair.
Krommes took out the chip carousel and the cash box. He began counting out chips.
Bludd opened the bottle and sniffed at its contents hesitantly.
"Man, this is great," Robinson laughed. "What an equalizer!"
Reading the label, Bludd fingered the metal bottlecap, holding it the way he'd been holding the deck of cards when he'd entered. He flicked a sidewise glance at Robinson and his grin-split face.
Robinson suddenly found his bootlaces very interesting. He picked at a bit of dirt on the toe of his shoe.
Bludd took a swig of the beer. The others all watched for his reaction. His brow furrowed, and he regarded the label again. "I've had worse," he declared.
"Heh, yeah?" Carter had started building a house of cards.
"You wouldn't believe the stuff that passes for comestibles in the Legion."
"What?" Robinson sat up straight in his chair, shaking the table and destroying Carter's fledgling card house. "What does burning stuff down have to do with -"
"Comestibles, Robinson," Bludd explained. "Foodstuffs."
"Oh." Robinson looked around at the other men. "Why does he use such big words?"
Bludd closed his eyes for a moment, resisting the urge to drop his face into his palm. Krommes handed out chips and gathered the cash from the other men, then cashed himself in. "You guys wanna order pizza or something?"
"You mean we have to agree on toppings?" Carter whined. "That'll take all night!"
"Just get cheese, for god's sake," insisted Robinson.
Krommes looked at Bludd inquiringly.
"I'll eat whatever you order," Bludd answered disinterestedly. "It makes no difference to me." He fully expected the trio to deliberately order something horrid just to make him uneasy. "I came here to distract myself from the demise of my holiday. Food is secondary."
"Food is never secondary, Major," Carter said seriously.
"D'ya think Croakey's has octopus?" Robinson chuckled, confirming Bludd's suspicion.
"Augh!" shrieked Carter. "No freakin' way!" Bludd had to snicker at the man's extreme reaction.
"Can we agree on pepperoni?" Krommes asked, heading for the door. He fumbled in his pocket for change for the pay phone in the hall.
"And bacon!" shouted Carter.
"Anchovies!" Robinson insisted.
Bludd just shook his head. "Do you lot actually play cards on a Friday night, or do you just spend all night arguing over pizza toppings?"
Krommes was halfway out the door. "I'm ordering pepperoni," he proclaimed. "Nobody in here hates pepperoni." The door closed behind him. Carter and Robinson continued to argue over the merits of their respective favorite pizza toppings.
It's nice to not be in charge for once, Bludd thought. //Krommes knows how to take charge of a situation. Even a pizza situation. He chuckled.
*
Two hours later, his mood had dampened somewhat. As predicted, his men were beating him rather soundly. He'd quickly been relieved of the fifty dollars he'd been carrying. When they'd taken a break some forty-five minutes ago, he'd come back with another hundred, the last chip of which was lying in the pot in the center of the game table.
"/Merde/," Bludd swore, flipping his final lousy hand of cards onto the pile of chips in the center of the table. "I'm done." He stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray at his elbow.
"I guess that means all this is mine," crowed Carter, raking in the chips.
Bludd pushed his chair back, stood, and stretched. "What'd you have, for crying out loud?"
"Aces an' eights," Carter laid his cards out on the table.
"Dead Man's Hand," the others chorused. Robinson cracked his knuckles. Carter froze momentarily, a worried look sprouting on his face, his arms outstretched over the pile of chips. His eyes flicked from one man to the next.
Bludd laughed. "I'm too tired to kill you now, Carter."
Carter relaxed slightly and resumed collecting his booty.
"These blokes, however," he jerked a thumb at Robinson and Krommes, "most certainly have their own ideas." He ambled toward the door.
"You leavin' us, Major?" Krommes inquired.
As Bludd reached out his hand for the doorknob, the door opened toward him and a spindly, towheaded youth entered.
"Ah, h-hello, sir," Cameron Daly stammered, stopping in his tracks. He stared at Bludd, his eyes wide.
"Daly," Bludd greeted nonchalantly. Noticing the new recruit's stunned expression, he added, "Are you in trouble for something I ought to know about?"
"No, sir!" Daly spluttered.
"Then get in here and out of my way."
"Yessir!" Daly hurriedly sidestepped Bludd, his hand still on the door. He attempted to close it behind him but found himself unable to, as Bludd was holding the doorknob. After a quick glance at his commander, he blushed and vacated the doorway. "Sorry, sir."
"Yeah, Daly, c'mon in," Carter said, stacking his chips in neat piles. "We've just learned all the swear words in French."
"Yes, and there'll be a quiz when I return," Bludd replied with a smile. "I hope you all took good notes."
"Where're you off to, Bludd?" Robinson's speech had become slurred half an hour ago. We've only taken ya fer ..." He looked at Krommes. "How much've we taken 'im for?"
"One-fifty," Krommes replied.
"What he said," the dark-haired trooper continued. "You ain't bailin' after jus' that, areya?"
"/Je dois pisser/," Bludd said, walking out into the hall.
"What?"
Daly smiled. "Potty break."
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