Categories > Cartoons > G.I. Joe > A Joe Called Mercury
Chapter Two: Wanna be a Joe?
0 reviewsCobra has reemerged. The Joes reassemble and from the very best of the Armed Forces they cull the next group of potential Joes, creating an infantry force called the Greenshirts. Among them is a Pr...
0Unrated
A JOE CALLED "MERCURY"
DISCLAIMER: I don't own G.I. Joe, which makes me want to cry, because if I did, I'd own Beach Head, Snake Eyes, Storm Shadow, Duke, Hawk, and a ton of cute guys...
AUTHOR: Zpan Sven
E-MAIL: Zpan_Sven@hotmail.com
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I do own Mercury (Private Patricia Elizabeth Reed), Chaplain (Sophia Deheune), COBRA Televiper Fredrick "Freddy" Michealson, Fredericka "Rikki" Michealson, COBRA vipers Eric Leum and Jonathan Helmsley, Jamieson "Jamie" Helmsley, Xanatos, and Ryoko. Takes place prior to issue one.
STORY SUMMARY: At the USAF Olympics, Hawk catches sight of a potential Joe days before the reemergence of Cobra. After Cobra resurfaces, he recruits the young Private. Just how will this Private aid in the battle against the forces of Cobra and what is the secret that resides in the Privates past that Hawk knows?
CHAPTER SUMMARY: Cobra has reemerged. The Joes reassemble and from the very best of the Armed Forces they cull the next group of potential Joes, creating an infantry force called the Greenshirts. Among them is a Private that caught the eye of Hawk at the USAF Olympics.
WARNINGS: Violence, language
RATING: PG
GENRE: Action & Adventure/Romance/General
ARCHIVE: ask, and ye will more than likely receive!
CHAPTER TWO: WANNA BE A JOE?
Reed leaned back in the booth, dressed in casual wear consisting of a pair of faded denims, plain white t-shirt, and a faded denim jacket. Her almost healed ankle was propped up on the seat across from her, as she observed the other people in the small all-night diner. Several were drinking various alcoholic products, ranging from beer to mixed drinks. She would have joined them except for two minor details: 1. Alcohol would have a bad reaction with the painkillers the medic had given her for her ankle, and 2. She was still technically under-aged - not like that had ever stopped her before.
Reed had joined up with the army right after her high school graduation - she had turned eighteen a couple days before her graduation - much to the displeasure of her foster parents. 'Meh//, they can go suck pond scum for all I care.' She mentally snorted as she took a sip of her coffee.
"Private Patricia E. Reed?" asked a masculine voice from beside her.
Surprised, she turned her head to see who was talking to see who had addressed her and nearly fell from the booth. 'A Major General?!/ Holy shit!/' she thought as she clumsily tried to move her ankle so she could stand up to salute the man. Not every day a General in dress greens approached a mere Private First Class, especially not on her day off in an all-night diner...
"As you were, Private," the General chuckled as he slid into the booth across from her and sat down. A waitress sauntered up to the booth and he ordered a soda from her; the woman sulked that he wasn't paying any attention to her, his eyes focused on the young 'man' across from him. His kid maybe? She sashayed off to get the soda for the three-star General.
"How may I help you, General --?" She began, eyeing him warily. The Waitress returned, setting the General's soda down and left to refill another patron's drink.
"Abernathy. General Abernathy." The older man smiled at her, "I have to tell you, I was impressed by your athletic display at the USAF - however, I was more so impressed by your determination to complete your event and to go on and compete in the last two events."
"What sort of soldier would I be if I could not carry out my orders after only spraining my ankle?" Reed asked the General, not really expecting an answer.
"Not a very good one, Private. In fact, that's one of the reasons I wanted to talk to you... How would you feel if you were asked to join an elite anti-terrorist strike force?" Abernathy enquired.
"Honored, sir - and suspicious." Reed said blandly.
"Suspicious?" Abernathy asked in surprise.
"You've read my file?" she said, cutting her eyes over to him to see his nod of confirmation. There seemed to be a hint of approval in his piercing blue eyes, but Reed passed it off as imagining things.
"You only hit him once?" the General asked, raising a blond brow.
"One hit wonder." Reed said with a sharp bark of laughter.
"Heh." He chuckled as he sipped his soda.
"I don't trust easily, General." She told him bluntly.
"Good. Neither do I," Abernathy replied honestly.
Reed was about to reply when the doors of the diner burst open to reveal a group of bikers. '-the Hell?!' Reed thought as her hand went to her sidearm - or at least, were her side arm was supposed to be - as she stared at the group of motley bikers.
"Shit." Reed swore. "Dreadknocks..."
"Holdin' a party without us Dreadknocks, eh?" one of the bikers slurred out.
"It's just a bunch of them civilian types, Thrasher." Another biker grunted before grinning unpleasantly, not seeing Abernathy and Reed sitting in the all but hidden booth. "I says we teach 'em a lesson!"
The instant the Dreadknocks had burst in, the entire diner went silent. Reed shifted slightly in her seat, gaining access to the weapon in her ankle holster. The sound of a gun's hammer being pulled back caused many to flinch.
"I don't think so." Reed said blandly, "I have a .50 Desert Eagle aimed at Blondie's genitals..." the blond Dreadknock paled and his hands moved to protect his groin. "So unless you want your little buddy to be a eunuch for the rest of his miserable life, I suggest you leave."
"This ain't over by a long shot, brat!" The blonde man snarled as he and his friends backed out of the bar.
When they exited the bar, Reed gave a silent sigh of relief. "Glad I didn't have to make do on that threat..."
"Why?" Abernathy asked with an upraised eyebrow.
The Private grinned and held up a snubbed nosed revolver for the others to see - a weapon that was a far cry from the powerful one she claimed to have. The others chuckled nervously and the started joking. With in minutes, the conversations started up again, although not with the previous fervor and intensity, with many patrons darting glances at the bar's doors.
"Five to one, they've either totaled out vehicles or are waiting for us to leave so that they can get payback on the open highway." Reed mused out loud.
"Maybe both." Abernathy mumbled, wincing slightly at the thought of the damage done to his Jeep, worrying about Gung Ho. "So you've had run-ins with Dreadknocks before?"
"Yeah. Grew up in a rough neighborhood - some of the Knocks had girlfriends and kids near me." The Private snorted before sighing. "Maybe we should camp out here, wait those smelly idiots out."
"Won't be a comfortable rest," Hawk said as he leaned back in his chair.
"Better than some of the places I've had to sleep."
The General turned his head to ask her what she meant when the sounds of shouting and gunfire came from outside the bar. 'Damn Dreadknocks/.' Abernathy silently swore as he and several men stood, ready to go and check what was going on outside. They surrounded the door and Hawk was able to recognize one of the voices shouting. '/Gung-Ho.' His eyes widened slightly and he gritted his teeth as his blonde brows drew together in a scowl.
Reed cursed when she heard the gunfire and gingerly stood. She watched as Abernathy charged out of the bar, to engage the attackers. She limped out of the bar, her hands tight on the butt of her revolver. As she stepped out side, she saw the General fighting beside a bald muscular man with a tattoo of the USMC on his chest. The bald man was shouting insults at the Dreadknocks as he threw one of them over his shoulder. She grinned slightly at the bald man's fierce enthusiasm before she started to walk forward before she winced as she put more weight than she had planned on her sprained ankle.
"Need some help, Gung-Ho?" Abernathy jokingly asked the bald man as he punched a Dreadknock that was dressed like a pirate across the jaw.
"Naw, but feel free to join in on the fun anyway!" the Marine retorted good-naturedly, his voice heavy with a Cajun drawl.
"Glad you said that." Reed said dryly as she grabbed the ponytail of the blond biker she had threatened earlier.
"Oww!" The man yelped. He then turned his head to get a good look at who held his hair. "It's you!"
"Yeah, it's me." Reed smirked before she slammed her fist into his gut. She followed that up by delivering the knee of her injured leg into the Dreadknock's gut. As he doubled over she slammed the butt of her revolver onto his upper back. The blonde biker rolled out of her range and stood up only to find himself on the business end of Reed's snubbed nosed revolver.
"You damn brat, I'm gonna..." the blonde biker started only to be interrupted by Reed pulling back the hammer of her weapon.
"Gonna what, Blondie? I warned you back in the bar. You really should have listened," she snarled.
"Guess I'm no good at listenin' to brats who act bigger then their britches!" The biker snarled before lunging at Reed.
His hand lashed out and slapped the barrel of her weapon downward. Out of reflex, her finger squeezed the trigger, and the weapon fired, sending a bullet into the biker's foot. He screamed and delivered a backhanded slap across Reed's face; she felt as her inner cheek was lacerated by the sharp edges of her teeth from the strength of the biker's blow. There was a ringing in the ear closest to where the blow landed and she shook her head to clear away the sound. The biker slammed his fist into her gut and as she started to reflexively double over, he knocked her backwards with an uppercut punch to her jaw; she could practically feel her teeth rattle. She hit the ground hard and the breath whooshed from her lungs and her weapon went flying. Reed knew she was in trouble - with her ankle damaged, she wasn't able to dodge her opponent's powerful blows and that could prove fatal. Like a horse that is dependent on its legs to run from danger, so to did Reed; in her best health, she could dodge and weave around her opponent's attacks while landing her own blows that, while not as strong as her opponent's in ways of sheer strength, would combine with the energy spent from the blows that missed -- any good fighter knows that every blow counts and that it takes more energy to miss a blow than when a blow connects.
The biker lunged again and Reed used the only weapon she had left - her uninjured leg. She slammed her good foot into the blonde man's gut and as he staggered, she swiftly moved her leg to slam her booted foot into his jaw. Another part of her mind bickered that if she had put on her army boots, she would have probably fractured her assailant's jaw. The biker was sent reeling and Reed took that time to roll over into arm's length of her revolver. She scooped up the weapon and aimed it at the biker. Her eyes colder than the Artic, she pulled back the weapon's hammer.
"Reed! Stand down!" Abernathy ordered as a MP car pulled into the parking lot, it's tires spinning, sending gravel everywhere. From the MP car came a MP and his canine partner. The MP took a look at the Dreadknocks and shook his head in disgust, obviously having to deal with them before. With a suffering sigh, he got to work handcuffing the bikers and reading them their rights.
With a flick of her thumb, the hammer returned from its primed state to its previous resting state. She bent over and tucked the weapon back into her ankle holster. The Marine called Gung-Ho grabbed hold of her wrist and pulled her to her feet before he grinned down at her.
"You ain't half bad, kid!" The Marine said. He turned to face Abernathy. "Yo, Hawk! Ya think this kid would make a good Joe?"
"I know she would." Abernathy said before turning back to the MP, ignoring the Marine's look of surprise then scrutinizing gaze on the young Private, "Everything's under control for now, Law."
The MP nodded. "You want the local authorities to handle these clowns, or you want me and Order to take 'em back to the PITT, sir?"
"The locals can have 'em until we can get the chance to question them." Abernathy ordered before looking at Reed. "Well, Private? Have you considered the offer?"
"If I accept, will I be in a position to kick the asses of more jerks like we just dealt with?"
"Yes, Private."
Reed grinned. It wasn't a pleasant grin. "Hell yeah, General, I'm in!"
Abernathy raised a blonde eyebrow. "If you get through our Greenshirt program, you're going to be one hell of a Joe."
"Not /if/, sir, /when/!"
DISCLAIMER: I don't own G.I. Joe, which makes me want to cry, because if I did, I'd own Beach Head, Snake Eyes, Storm Shadow, Duke, Hawk, and a ton of cute guys...
AUTHOR: Zpan Sven
E-MAIL: Zpan_Sven@hotmail.com
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I do own Mercury (Private Patricia Elizabeth Reed), Chaplain (Sophia Deheune), COBRA Televiper Fredrick "Freddy" Michealson, Fredericka "Rikki" Michealson, COBRA vipers Eric Leum and Jonathan Helmsley, Jamieson "Jamie" Helmsley, Xanatos, and Ryoko. Takes place prior to issue one.
STORY SUMMARY: At the USAF Olympics, Hawk catches sight of a potential Joe days before the reemergence of Cobra. After Cobra resurfaces, he recruits the young Private. Just how will this Private aid in the battle against the forces of Cobra and what is the secret that resides in the Privates past that Hawk knows?
CHAPTER SUMMARY: Cobra has reemerged. The Joes reassemble and from the very best of the Armed Forces they cull the next group of potential Joes, creating an infantry force called the Greenshirts. Among them is a Private that caught the eye of Hawk at the USAF Olympics.
WARNINGS: Violence, language
RATING: PG
GENRE: Action & Adventure/Romance/General
ARCHIVE: ask, and ye will more than likely receive!
CHAPTER TWO: WANNA BE A JOE?
Reed leaned back in the booth, dressed in casual wear consisting of a pair of faded denims, plain white t-shirt, and a faded denim jacket. Her almost healed ankle was propped up on the seat across from her, as she observed the other people in the small all-night diner. Several were drinking various alcoholic products, ranging from beer to mixed drinks. She would have joined them except for two minor details: 1. Alcohol would have a bad reaction with the painkillers the medic had given her for her ankle, and 2. She was still technically under-aged - not like that had ever stopped her before.
Reed had joined up with the army right after her high school graduation - she had turned eighteen a couple days before her graduation - much to the displeasure of her foster parents. 'Meh//, they can go suck pond scum for all I care.' She mentally snorted as she took a sip of her coffee.
"Private Patricia E. Reed?" asked a masculine voice from beside her.
Surprised, she turned her head to see who was talking to see who had addressed her and nearly fell from the booth. 'A Major General?!/ Holy shit!/' she thought as she clumsily tried to move her ankle so she could stand up to salute the man. Not every day a General in dress greens approached a mere Private First Class, especially not on her day off in an all-night diner...
"As you were, Private," the General chuckled as he slid into the booth across from her and sat down. A waitress sauntered up to the booth and he ordered a soda from her; the woman sulked that he wasn't paying any attention to her, his eyes focused on the young 'man' across from him. His kid maybe? She sashayed off to get the soda for the three-star General.
"How may I help you, General --?" She began, eyeing him warily. The Waitress returned, setting the General's soda down and left to refill another patron's drink.
"Abernathy. General Abernathy." The older man smiled at her, "I have to tell you, I was impressed by your athletic display at the USAF - however, I was more so impressed by your determination to complete your event and to go on and compete in the last two events."
"What sort of soldier would I be if I could not carry out my orders after only spraining my ankle?" Reed asked the General, not really expecting an answer.
"Not a very good one, Private. In fact, that's one of the reasons I wanted to talk to you... How would you feel if you were asked to join an elite anti-terrorist strike force?" Abernathy enquired.
"Honored, sir - and suspicious." Reed said blandly.
"Suspicious?" Abernathy asked in surprise.
"You've read my file?" she said, cutting her eyes over to him to see his nod of confirmation. There seemed to be a hint of approval in his piercing blue eyes, but Reed passed it off as imagining things.
"You only hit him once?" the General asked, raising a blond brow.
"One hit wonder." Reed said with a sharp bark of laughter.
"Heh." He chuckled as he sipped his soda.
"I don't trust easily, General." She told him bluntly.
"Good. Neither do I," Abernathy replied honestly.
Reed was about to reply when the doors of the diner burst open to reveal a group of bikers. '-the Hell?!' Reed thought as her hand went to her sidearm - or at least, were her side arm was supposed to be - as she stared at the group of motley bikers.
"Shit." Reed swore. "Dreadknocks..."
"Holdin' a party without us Dreadknocks, eh?" one of the bikers slurred out.
"It's just a bunch of them civilian types, Thrasher." Another biker grunted before grinning unpleasantly, not seeing Abernathy and Reed sitting in the all but hidden booth. "I says we teach 'em a lesson!"
The instant the Dreadknocks had burst in, the entire diner went silent. Reed shifted slightly in her seat, gaining access to the weapon in her ankle holster. The sound of a gun's hammer being pulled back caused many to flinch.
"I don't think so." Reed said blandly, "I have a .50 Desert Eagle aimed at Blondie's genitals..." the blond Dreadknock paled and his hands moved to protect his groin. "So unless you want your little buddy to be a eunuch for the rest of his miserable life, I suggest you leave."
"This ain't over by a long shot, brat!" The blonde man snarled as he and his friends backed out of the bar.
When they exited the bar, Reed gave a silent sigh of relief. "Glad I didn't have to make do on that threat..."
"Why?" Abernathy asked with an upraised eyebrow.
The Private grinned and held up a snubbed nosed revolver for the others to see - a weapon that was a far cry from the powerful one she claimed to have. The others chuckled nervously and the started joking. With in minutes, the conversations started up again, although not with the previous fervor and intensity, with many patrons darting glances at the bar's doors.
"Five to one, they've either totaled out vehicles or are waiting for us to leave so that they can get payback on the open highway." Reed mused out loud.
"Maybe both." Abernathy mumbled, wincing slightly at the thought of the damage done to his Jeep, worrying about Gung Ho. "So you've had run-ins with Dreadknocks before?"
"Yeah. Grew up in a rough neighborhood - some of the Knocks had girlfriends and kids near me." The Private snorted before sighing. "Maybe we should camp out here, wait those smelly idiots out."
"Won't be a comfortable rest," Hawk said as he leaned back in his chair.
"Better than some of the places I've had to sleep."
The General turned his head to ask her what she meant when the sounds of shouting and gunfire came from outside the bar. 'Damn Dreadknocks/.' Abernathy silently swore as he and several men stood, ready to go and check what was going on outside. They surrounded the door and Hawk was able to recognize one of the voices shouting. '/Gung-Ho.' His eyes widened slightly and he gritted his teeth as his blonde brows drew together in a scowl.
Reed cursed when she heard the gunfire and gingerly stood. She watched as Abernathy charged out of the bar, to engage the attackers. She limped out of the bar, her hands tight on the butt of her revolver. As she stepped out side, she saw the General fighting beside a bald muscular man with a tattoo of the USMC on his chest. The bald man was shouting insults at the Dreadknocks as he threw one of them over his shoulder. She grinned slightly at the bald man's fierce enthusiasm before she started to walk forward before she winced as she put more weight than she had planned on her sprained ankle.
"Need some help, Gung-Ho?" Abernathy jokingly asked the bald man as he punched a Dreadknock that was dressed like a pirate across the jaw.
"Naw, but feel free to join in on the fun anyway!" the Marine retorted good-naturedly, his voice heavy with a Cajun drawl.
"Glad you said that." Reed said dryly as she grabbed the ponytail of the blond biker she had threatened earlier.
"Oww!" The man yelped. He then turned his head to get a good look at who held his hair. "It's you!"
"Yeah, it's me." Reed smirked before she slammed her fist into his gut. She followed that up by delivering the knee of her injured leg into the Dreadknock's gut. As he doubled over she slammed the butt of her revolver onto his upper back. The blonde biker rolled out of her range and stood up only to find himself on the business end of Reed's snubbed nosed revolver.
"You damn brat, I'm gonna..." the blonde biker started only to be interrupted by Reed pulling back the hammer of her weapon.
"Gonna what, Blondie? I warned you back in the bar. You really should have listened," she snarled.
"Guess I'm no good at listenin' to brats who act bigger then their britches!" The biker snarled before lunging at Reed.
His hand lashed out and slapped the barrel of her weapon downward. Out of reflex, her finger squeezed the trigger, and the weapon fired, sending a bullet into the biker's foot. He screamed and delivered a backhanded slap across Reed's face; she felt as her inner cheek was lacerated by the sharp edges of her teeth from the strength of the biker's blow. There was a ringing in the ear closest to where the blow landed and she shook her head to clear away the sound. The biker slammed his fist into her gut and as she started to reflexively double over, he knocked her backwards with an uppercut punch to her jaw; she could practically feel her teeth rattle. She hit the ground hard and the breath whooshed from her lungs and her weapon went flying. Reed knew she was in trouble - with her ankle damaged, she wasn't able to dodge her opponent's powerful blows and that could prove fatal. Like a horse that is dependent on its legs to run from danger, so to did Reed; in her best health, she could dodge and weave around her opponent's attacks while landing her own blows that, while not as strong as her opponent's in ways of sheer strength, would combine with the energy spent from the blows that missed -- any good fighter knows that every blow counts and that it takes more energy to miss a blow than when a blow connects.
The biker lunged again and Reed used the only weapon she had left - her uninjured leg. She slammed her good foot into the blonde man's gut and as he staggered, she swiftly moved her leg to slam her booted foot into his jaw. Another part of her mind bickered that if she had put on her army boots, she would have probably fractured her assailant's jaw. The biker was sent reeling and Reed took that time to roll over into arm's length of her revolver. She scooped up the weapon and aimed it at the biker. Her eyes colder than the Artic, she pulled back the weapon's hammer.
"Reed! Stand down!" Abernathy ordered as a MP car pulled into the parking lot, it's tires spinning, sending gravel everywhere. From the MP car came a MP and his canine partner. The MP took a look at the Dreadknocks and shook his head in disgust, obviously having to deal with them before. With a suffering sigh, he got to work handcuffing the bikers and reading them their rights.
With a flick of her thumb, the hammer returned from its primed state to its previous resting state. She bent over and tucked the weapon back into her ankle holster. The Marine called Gung-Ho grabbed hold of her wrist and pulled her to her feet before he grinned down at her.
"You ain't half bad, kid!" The Marine said. He turned to face Abernathy. "Yo, Hawk! Ya think this kid would make a good Joe?"
"I know she would." Abernathy said before turning back to the MP, ignoring the Marine's look of surprise then scrutinizing gaze on the young Private, "Everything's under control for now, Law."
The MP nodded. "You want the local authorities to handle these clowns, or you want me and Order to take 'em back to the PITT, sir?"
"The locals can have 'em until we can get the chance to question them." Abernathy ordered before looking at Reed. "Well, Private? Have you considered the offer?"
"If I accept, will I be in a position to kick the asses of more jerks like we just dealt with?"
"Yes, Private."
Reed grinned. It wasn't a pleasant grin. "Hell yeah, General, I'm in!"
Abernathy raised a blonde eyebrow. "If you get through our Greenshirt program, you're going to be one hell of a Joe."
"Not /if/, sir, /when/!"
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