G. I. Joe 1. Introducing

This is version two of the story _Secrets_; I forgot a few things in the first version, including the ever-important disclaimer. Can I just add, thank you so much to willwrite4fics. The advice was really appreciated.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own G. I. Joe, nor any trademark names in this story. I do own Megan Catrenski and any OCs that may appear, unless stated otherwise.

**INTRODUCING**

The leader of a top secret military unit thought I was a head-case.

Whatever. He wasn't the first.

He wasn't the last, either, as a matter of fact: the moment I stepped into that conference room, eyes boggled, jaws dropped. I ignored them.

"This is Megan Catrenski," the blonde guy – Hauser – announced. "She's agreed to analyse the footage of the interviews for us."

"Hi." I made myself smile, and reconsidered the wisdom of wearing jeans. Though it probably wasn't the jeans, really. It was probably the nose stud. Or the two rings nestled together in my left eyebrow. Maybe it was the hair: electric blue, short as any of these peoples' on the sides, with a long fringe dropping over my right eye. Could be the combat boots or the death metal T-shirt I was wearing.

I shrugged these thoughts away easily. I didn't care what these people thought. No matter what I wore, my skills are rare enough that people will always hire me for them. This wasn't the first top secret outfit that had gotten in touch.

I read faces. Any idiot off the street could guess what someone was feeling, but only this idiot could tell you with certainty what someone was thinking. A lot of requests for my services came from the military and government. Like I said, this wasn't the first top secret outfit that had gotten in touch.

"So you have video footage?" I raised an eyebrow at the guy seated before a laptop, who had clearly forgotten why I was here. He jumped and opened the computer, spent a few moments doing clever wireless things, and finally brandished a remote.

A screen rolled down, a projector on the roof flickered to life, and the footage began playing. A man, sitting at a table, in what could only be an interrogation room. The camera had been trained onto his face; the interviewer couldn't be seen.

The man was sweating heavily, his eyes were darting from side to side, and he couldn't stop fidgeting. My own eyes narrowed.

"_Look,"_ he said, running his hands over his hair. _"If I talk to you people, I'm a target, alright? Bleeeeeeeeeeeeep will send Bleeeeeep after me, right?"_

"Pause," I called, irritated, to the guy with the remote. As the image onscreen froze, I turned to give Hauser my best why-did-you-think-this-was-a-good-idea look. "You censored it?"

"This is sensitive information," he said, not looking even a little bit sorry.

I stared at him for a moment. Doubt, condescension, impatience. He didn't think I could do it. I gave him a sudden, sweet smile. "That's fine. I read lips. I know what they're saying anyway. You can play it again now." I turned my back on the smug jerk and folded my arms, watching the interrogation play out.

It only lasted for forty-five minutes. I didn't say another word the whole way through, and nor did anyone else. The instant the lights flicked back on, an older African-American man seated next to Hauser leaned back and looked at me expectantly. "So is he reliable? Can we trust his information?"

I shook my head. "The guy's a junkie. You can't trust anything he says as far as you could throw him."

"Please explain." Hauser's tone was marginally more polite that time.

"He's in withdrawal," I said patiently. "He believes everything he says, but everything he says is just what he remembers from when he was high. So he could have real information, or he could be parroting what he was fed along with the heroin. You can't use any of his information unless it's independently verified."

I watched them trade glances, wondering if I ought to mention what was on my mind. "The guy who conducted the interview," I began slowly. They immediately switched their attention back to me. "How well do you know him?"

"Why do you ask?" Hauser asked evasively.

Not well, then. "Because he was very careful to lead your defector away from certain lines of conversation. Sometimes the defector had something else to say and your guy cut him off." I shrugged. "Just a thought."

"So in your opinion –" Hauser pushed.

"In my opinion your defector is worthless and your interviewer is dangerous. You want a report?" My tone was bordering on sarcastic.

"No thank you," Hauser said icily, getting to his feet. I jumped up as well, didn't shake the hand he offered me, and followed him out the door. They had given me a driver to ferry me to the airport, and paid for a business-class ticket. Kind of them, especially when they could have just emailed me that video and saved us all the time and expense.

The driver opened the door for me, and drove to the airport very slowly at first. Finally I rolled my eyes, leaned forwards and said impatiently, "This is really the fastest we can go?"

He was startled. Then a big grin spread over his face and he said, "No ma'am!" and pressed the accelerator down.

The ride became a lot more interesting very, very quickly.

* * *

><p>When I climbed out of the car, I was smiling. My driver had jumped out to open my door again, and I threw him a lazy salute. He smiled at me and saluted back.<p>

I was early for my flight, but I had brought reading material. A few bored business men waiting for flights of their own had had a good look when I sat down, but the moment I pulled out the complete works of William Shakespeare, their eyes glazed over and they stopped ogling me and went back to their financial papers.

The chair opposite me creaked as someone settled into it. I glanced up, registered the suit, the belly, the male pattern baldness, and went back to Shakespeare.

"Excuse me," he said, politely enough, "but do you know the time?"

"No watch, sorry," I said, not looking up.

"I'm going to L.A. What about you?"

I turned the page and didn't answer. I _was_ going to Los Angeles, and I just knew, the way my luck was liable to go, that I would be seated next to the one guy in the world who wasn't put off by blue hair, facial piercings and a T-shirt with the word 'horror' on it no fewer than seven times.

Maybe he got the message, for he leaned back and fell silent.

"I like your shirt. What band is that?"

Maybe not. I closed my book, picked up my bag and moved down the row of seats. The man looked hurt. I gave him a hard-eyed stared and picked my book up again.

There was movement and the chair next to me protested. It wasn't my pain-in-the-rear; he was still sitting there looking wounded. This was a whole new contender for the title of Most Likely Justified-Homicide-Victim. I lowered my head and tried to pretend I was invisible.

"Alice!" the new guy exclaimed, grabbing my arm. "How long has it been?"

I can't stand people touching me. I never have and I doubt I ever will. So, I dropped my book, clenched my fists and prepared to rip into this guy.

Those plans were all aborted when I saw the gun pointed at my side.

It was hidden behind a briefcase propped up in Jerk B's lap. I couldn't be sure, but from the way Jerk A was holding his coat, there was probably another one in play as well.

Guy B let go of my arm. "Stand," he said, still smiling at me. "Look happy. I'm an old friend you just ran into. We're going to get coffee."

"I don't do happy," I snarled quietly.

"Fake it. If you don't my friend will shoot a civilian."

Damn it, he wasn't kidding. I fixed a huge grin onto my face and stood up.

"Good girl. Head over towards the shop on my left. You know what happens if you don't..." His friend's overcoat twitched meaningfully.

I did as I was told, going as slowly as I dared, still smiling. Jerk B walked next to me the whole time, one hand on my back to guide me.

The shop on the left was tucked in a corner, away from the crowds, and didn't have a single customer in it. The woman at the counter didn't blink an eyelid as we walked to the back and passed through a grey door into a maintenance corridor.

The instant we were out of sight, I dropped my bag and threw myself at Jerk B, going straight for the eyes. There were two of them, though, and they – like a lot of people over the age of sixteen – were a lot bigger, so it wasn't long before a thick arm wrapped itself around my throat and lifted me off. I didn't make it easy: I was kicking and thrashing and yelling like a banshee. The guy holding me used his free hand to grab my right wrist and straighten my arm out. His friend, who, I was happy to note, was bleeding from long scratches on his face, pulled out a syringe. Once I saw that I began struggling even harder.

There was a prick in my arm, just as the door leading to the shop burst open. The guy half-throttling me took one look, dropped me and ran. His friend was right behind him.

I landed on my hands and knees, and sat back, but my head was spinning and suddenly the corridor looked very odd. It took me a moment to realise I was now laying on my side, watching as my driver, a pretty redhead, a guy built like a tank and some idiot wearing a ski mask appeared on the scene.

Tank-guy and Mr. Mask took off after my would-be abductors. The redhead knelt next to me. I couldn't see my driver. She was saying something, but my eyes wouldn't stay open.

The last thing I saw before I passed out was a crossbow holstered on the woman's hip. My last thought was _What the hell?_


	2. Safe

Sorry this has been a bit messy, everyone. I realised I made a tactical error in my plot and tried to fix it and somehow made the whole thing worse by removing my last two chapters. Sorry.

* * *

><p><strong>SAFE<strong>

I came to in a hospital, or something that smelled pretty similar. I was nice and warm, there was a drip feeding into my arm, and I had a bad case of nausea coupled with a raging headache.

I wasn't alone.

My first groan, a nice, heart-felt noise full of self-pity, was met with a cautious, "Hi... are you awake?"

I bit back the first four-letter word that came to mind and nodded instead. A very bad idea, as it turned out. I groaned again.

"Doc! I think she's still sick!" my new friend called out.

I forced my rebellious eyelids open, and took stock. I was in some kind of hospital ward, alright. Sitting on the bed next to me was another redheaded woman. I remembered her face from a magazine cover. Courtney Kreiger. She had left her career to join the military. So this was where she had ended up. Wherever this was.

"I'm fine," I muttered, trying to sit up. "What the hell did they give me?" I gave her a searching look. "Doctor Kreiger?"

"You know me?"

"You were a model," I said, trying not to sound like I thought she was an idiot.

"Yeah, ages ago. That's so cool that you remember. And no, I'm not. A car part jammed. Doc asked me to keep an eye on you since he has paper-work and I can't work for a week at least." She brandished a bandaged hand at me by way of proof.

I nodded again, to show I had gotten it all. And then I leaned over and threw up on the floor.

I didn't hear her move, but when I was done, Kreiger patted my back, helped me settle back and offered me a glass of water.

"Thanks," I said miserably, trying to catch the straw in my mouth.

A black man who should have just tattooed 'doctor' on his forehead and be done with it appeared out of nowhere. I sipped my water and glared groggily at him.

"Miss Catrenski?"

"My friends call me Megan."

"Megan–"

"I don't think we know each other well enough for that yet, Doctor."

The man closed his eyes and took a deep breath, like he was praying for patience. Kreiger tapped my arm.

"Don't take it out on Doc just because you're feeling bad," she told me reprovingly.

I muttered something and wriggled further under the blankets, uncomfortable with them both staring at me like I had a third eye. They must have assumed it was an apology, because Doc smiled and said, "It's fine. How _are_ you feeling?"

"Like I was drugged."

"You were. No nausea, no dizziness, clear vision?"

"Headache. And I threw up."

"So I see. That's normal." He shook two aspirin out of a bottle and offered them to me. "You were out for twenty-four hours. They gave you a powerful sedative."

I took the aspirin silently. My pounding head eased immediately.

"Hawk and Duke want to speak to you," Doc went on. "They should be here in a minute."

I didn't know who those people were.

* * *

><p>It was more like ten minutes before anyone showed up. It was Sergeant Hauser, my number-one-fan, and an older man dressed in the uniform of a general. They had brought the redhead from the airport with them.<p>

"Miss Catrenski," Hauser said with a polite nod. "This is General Hawk, and this is Scarlett. Please, call me Duke."

I stayed silent, waiting for more.

"The men who tried to abduct you were part of a terrorist organisation," Scarlett said in a gentle tone. "Can you tell us anything about them?"

"Just that they were more willing to shoot innocent bystanders than they were to shoot me," I said.

"They tried to kidnap you," Duke said as if to clarify. I didn't bother replying: surely it was obvious what they had intended? 'Idiotically obvious' was actually the phrase that sprang to mind first.

They exchanged glances. Doc rolled his eyes at them. He had tried to make conversation while we waited, and had failed miserably. Kreiger had disappeared a while ago, talking about cars as she left.

"Any reason you can think of for Cobra wanting to abduct you?" Duke tried again.

"No," I replied. "Apart from the obvious one."

"Which is?" Duke prodded.

"Obvious."

"Miss Catrenski, we are trying to help you," Hawk said, exasperated. "I know you aren't a hundred percent, but could you please try to co-operate."

"The obvious explanation," I said waspishly, "is that they wanted me to read someone. And I would say that they got their information from _you_."

"I beg your pardon?" Hawk asked.

"You were the ones who hired me," I said reasonably. "That guy you had me read mentioned the word Cobra, which is the first time I ever heard of an organisation going by that name. They weren't a blip on my radar until I met you. I probably wasn't a blip on their radar until three days ago either."

"That's all very astute," Hawk said slowly.

"It's all very _obvious_," I muttered to myself. "What now?" I asked more loudly.

"Protective custody," Scarlett said. "You'll be placed in a safe-house with an armed guard twenty-four seven until we know why Cobra is after you."

"Which could be a while," I said flatly.

Duke shrugged. "It's all we can do."

I sighed. Damn secret soldiers, dragging me into their cloak-and-dagger shit. "Thank you," I said. "Really, thank you. I appreciate it." Even though this whole thing was kind of their fault, I actually did appreciate it.

The trio smiled at me and made their polite farewells and left me there, in a hospital bed where they indirectly had placed me.

* * *

><p>Duke and Scarlett went directly from their meeting with Catrenski to a meeting about Catrenski. Waiting for them was Stalker, Flint and Lady Jaye, as well as Breaker. Hawk, who had more immediate concerns – namely the mountain range of paperwork that kept an elite unit comprised solely of lunatics functioning – had left them with orders to keep him fully apprised of any situational developments.<p>

"So," Duke said, sitting down. "Megan Catrenski. Talk to me."

"Twenty-five years old," Lady Jaye began. "Born and raised in L.A. Foster-kid. You know she was named a MacArthur Fellow two years ago? Apparently a friend nominated her based on a paper she wrote about the differences between what people say and what their faces tell her."

"That's what brought her to the FBI's attention," Breaker interrupted. "They hired her as a consultant, and she's worked for them on and off over the past two years."

"History of mental illness in the family," Lady Jaye said, determined to show up Breaker. "The mother was apparently paranoid schizophrenic, or something very similar. That's why Megan was removed into foster care when she was five. There's no mention of a father. The mother died eight years ago."

"So Cobra isn't after her because of her family," Duke reasoned.

"The only thing that makes sense is that Cobra wants her for her ability to identify emotions and reactions," Scarlett said, glancing around at them. "They must want her to read someone, for some reason."

"Or they just want her because she's attached to us," Flint suggested.

"Her name hasn't come up in chatter?" Duke asked.

"We're monitoring everything. Nothing so far," Flint told him. "Buzzer and Zartan are in the wind as well since the airport."

"See, that's what ruins it for me," Duke said, rubbing his chin. "I can understand Cobra grabbing someone just because they did something for us. But sending two of their best operatives? It doesn't make sense to me. It's too risky. I mean, Clutch spotted them nearly instantly when he dropped off Catrenski."

"Catrenski's safe for now," Scarlett said reasonably. "We can keep working it until we have something."

Duke nodded. "Oh, we will."

* * *

><p>The grunts guarding me made watching growing grass riveting. They sat, watched the yard, and monitored screens, and didn't say a word that wasn't directly related to my safety. The safe house was set in the suburbs, a tiny little one-storey cottage: big yard, high surrounding wall, tiny bedrooms. It was claustrophobic in the extreme.<p>

On the fourth day, I was reading in the living room, and contemplating chewing my arm off, just for entertainment, when the alarm went off.

My guards sprang into action. One went to the front of the house, the other to the side door, and the third hit the lights and dragged me to my bedroom.

"Stay here," he ordered, thrusting me in and closing the door on me. I pressed my ear to the jamb: he was standing just outside. How sweet.

"Motion sensor's still going off," I heard one guard say. It was a flimsily built house, alright. "Couldn't be a cat?"

"Too big," another replied. "You hit the button?"

"HQ knows. Backup in five."

We didn't have five minutes. There was the tinkle of breaking glass, and a muffled gargle, then silence.

"Mark?" the guard at the side called nervously.

I knelt there, listening, counting off how long it would take an intruder to move from the front window to the side door.

The door crashed open. Counterpoint to it was a terrified scream that cut off abruptly. Damn, this guy was fast.

The breathing of my guard, standing between me and the intruder, was heavier. I scuttled into the bathroom and paused, with my foot on the toilet lid, waiting.

There was a wild burst of gunfire outside my door. Then the whole door shook as something heavy fell against it.

I didn't wait for any more. Wriggling, pulling and pushing like mad, I squeezed through the tiny window set high in the bathroom wall and landed on the relative softness of a shrub. Moments later, I was running.

An advantage of being my size? You have a lot more options. Unless my assailant could fit through the bathroom window – unlikely – he would have to check the room, go back through the house, and come out the side door. All of which would give me time to get away.

I could see movement at the front of the house, but the back yard was silent and still. I approached the wall at top speed, jumped up and seized hold of an old trellis attached to the wall. It was old, and rotten, and let's be honest, I'm heavier than sweet pea vines anyway. But it held: the lattice wood didn't break; the nails still held it firm to the wall and it made a good ladder.

Rough hands grabbed me around the waist and yanked me down. I opened my mouth to yell, but a rag was clapped over it. I went limp almost instantly, recognising the scent of chloroform, holding my breath, moving my chest so it appeared as if I were breathing. My attacker supported me for a moment, maybe just being cautious, then lowered me to the ground. Eyes opened a crack, I watched him turn away. As luck would have it, there was a branch right under my hand, just lying there. I gripped it, braced myself and swung.

It broke against his head. I didn't wait to see him collapse; I turned and went for the trellis again. With all those people in the front, I thought that the back was still my best way out.

That was the last thing I thought before something grabbed my head and slammed it against the wall. There was a lightning bolt of pain, and then nothing much.

* * *

><p>Storm Shadow looked down at the tiny doll-like figure in front of him. His head hurt, but his pride hurt more. He was lucky nobody had seen her get in that shot with the branch. Zartan would never have let him forget it. She was quick.<p>

He bent and secured her wrists and ankles, like he had intended to do before. Then he slung her over his shoulder and carried her away.


	3. Cobra

**COBRA**

Either I was hung over again, or the other end of the car I was in really was that far away. We passed a streetlight, and the illumination showed me carpet, leather seats, a fridge.

Limousine, my smug brain told me. Look around.

I was sitting upright, hands in front of me, wrists and ankles bound with plastic ties. Someone had actually buckled my seatbelt; I felt absurdly touched.

I twisted my head to look around, ignoring the jolt of pain that accompanied the movement. I had been wedged into the corner formed by the seat facing the rear of the vehicle and the seat on the right of the vehicle. Someone was sitting at a right angle to me on the opposite side of the car. His face was invisible in the darkness, but his clothes – as white as driven snow – gleamed even in the dimness, as did the hilts of the swords on the seat next to him. I could hear noises from the far end of the car, and from my brief glimpse on waking, I knew there were two other, men in dark blue uniforms, AK-47s resting on their knees, in the car with us.

We passed another streetlight, and I got a good look at the guy across from me. He was Asian, handsome, mid-thirties it looked like; he had a few faint scars on his face and neck, and a brand new bruise.

Apparently we had crossed paths recently. The bruise on his face and the tacky, drying blood all over the side of mine were testament to that.

He saw me looking and looked back with hard, flat eyes. A shiver fell down my spine and marched back up it again.

I didn't bother with "Where are we?" He never would have answered.

"How long until we get to where we're going?" I asked instead.

"An hour." His voice was low, flat, and accented. The shiver evolved into a blaring alarm, screaming at the back of my mind. His face was _wrong_; his face, voice, bearing, all _wrong._

"You're part of Cobra." It wasn't a question. He didn't answer. Instead, he reached up to his neck and pulled some kind of hood-mask combination over his hair and jaw. Now all that could be seen were his eyes. They were still enough to creep me out.

I didn't say a word for the rest of the trip.

* * *

><p>Storm Shadow watched the girl. She was silent, which troubled him vaguely. She had been assaulted, knocked out and kidnapped, and she had spoken two calm, rational sentences, then said nothing for fifty-five minutes.<p>

He wondered distantly if she had a concussion. On the whole, he thought not: her eyes were clear and focussed and her voice had been crisp and calm. Besides, he knew how to hit people, even in the heat of rage. There was nothing wrong with her.

There was nothing wrong with her in that she didn't have a concussion at least.

The car shuddered as it slowed. They were approaching their final destination. The girl looked up, and her huge grey eyes met Storm Shadow's. It was an effort, but he kept eye contact. She looked away first.

* * *

><p>We weren't in the suburbs. Of that, I was sure. I weren't sure where we were, but it wasn't the suburbs. The ambient noise was all wrong. We were in a city somewhere.<p>

The man-in-white pulled out a knife. I didn't flinch. They hadn't brought me all this way to kill me, and it wasn't the first time a knife had been in my presence before. Besides, his eyes weren't homicidal.

He leaned over and slit the plastic tie around my ankles. I awkwardly unbuckled my own seatbelt and slid along the seat to the door he had left open behind him. The two soldiers followed me out.

We were in a big white room. That's the best way of describing it. A warehouse, probably. Another car full of soldiers in the same dark blue uniform had arrived before us; they were formed up and waiting. The man-in-white headed towards a door set in the corner. The soldiers herded me after him. The door hid an elevator. I stepped into the box, crowded into a corner by the bulky soldiers, intrigued to note that they gave the man-in-white a wide berth. The doors slid closed and the elevator dropped with barely a whisper. The doors reopened less than five seconds later, but I could tell that we were now deep, deep underground.

The man-in-white led me down several metal corridors, the squadron of soldiers formed up around me. I should have been impressed, I supposed, but all I could think of was how long it would take to ensure that all of these walls were free of fingerprints.

We entered a darkened room. I balked at the door, unwilling to enter an area where I couldn't see, but the white ninja just grabbed me and hauled me inside. He wasn't trying to hurt me, but he had a grip like iron. I wasn't going anywhere but where he steered me. Five metres from the door, I took another step and felt the floor change beneath me. I had been walking on bare metal before; this was some different material. He pulled me to a halt. I waited in the darkness, my heart beating loudly. There was a touch of cold metal on my wrists. I flinched, and felt him pause, before the pressure of the plastic tie slipped away from my arms.

"Be still," he ordered, stepping away from me.

I didn't move. Suddenly, the floor beneath me shuddered slightly, and there was a rush of movement all around me. I dropped into a crouch, my hand on the ground to balance. The lights in the room flickered on, and I threw my arm up to shield my eyes.

"We seem to have a guest," a robotic monotone said.

I lowered my hand, blinking cautiously, and looked around, standing. I was standing in a giant glass cylinder. The wall had risen out of the ground around me. I rapped it experimentally. Thick. Very thick.

Standing in the room with me was a man in blue, with a mask on his face, a cape around his shoulders, and a sword on his belt. A brunette with glasses and an extreme taste for leather stood to his right, slightly behind him. No doubt about who was in charge here.

The man-in-white bowed low. "Megan Catrenski, Commander."

"Very good, Storm Shadow." I glanced at them both with interest. The defector Duke had called me in to read initially had been worried that Cobra Commander would send Storm Shadow to get him. "You have done very well." Storm Shadow straightened and moved to stand at the guy's left shoulder. I watched his face, fascinated and repelled at the same time. The boss' voice dragged my attention away.

"Do you know who I am?" he demanded.

I shook my head.

"My name is Cobra Commander."

"You had unkind parents."

I couldn't read his face, and the voice filter he had built into my fishbowl was making it impossible for me to tell his tone, so I didn't know how he was reacting to these quips. They were making me feel better, though. "I am the leader of a very large, very important organisation. And you are of great interest to me."

"Are you coming onto me?"

The brunette's lips twitched slightly. Good for her.

"Do not mock me, _girl._ I am not–"

A voice over the intercom on the wall interrupted him. "My lord Commander, the video link is ready to be established."

"Excellent," Cobra Commander said sibilantly. "Baroness, send our guest to rendezvous with the others."

"Yes Commander," the brunette replied in a thick Russian accent. "At once."

She walked over to the console attached to the base of my cylinder and tapped in a series of commands. I watched, memorising them. Suddenly, the floor gave out beneath me, and I fell down a tube. It wasn't quite a straight free-fall, but it was close enough that when I landed a few seconds later, my leg folded beneath me and I had to bite back an agonised scream.

I was in another dark room, in another glass cylinder. My breathing was amplified in my enclosure. I pushed myself back, off my injured leg, and tried not to panic. I had to really try, but I succeeded. I leaned back against the wall, and concentrated on taking big, deep breaths, trying to forget the fact that I had been kidnapped by some lunatic whose face and voice I couldn't read.

* * *

><p>Hawk stormed into the control centre, very nearly running. Breaker was seated at the console next to the door; he nodded Hawk towards the main screen. It was showing a live feed being sent from a Cobra base somewhere. A cluster of Joes were standing around watching it, their faces grim.<p>

"We're not the only ones getting this," Breaker told him. "CNN, World News, BBC; all the major channels are receiving this over the internet as well. We didn't have time to throw up a net."

"_Viewers of the world,"_ Cobra Commander's sibilant tone sounded from the speakers. _"In America, there is a wonderful notion of free speech. As I understand it, that means that if we have a problem, we are entitled to express ourselves to the appropriate authorities. I have a problem."_

"Only one?" Clutch muttered, trying to lighten the mood. He failed.

"_I have a problem with civilians fighting the government's battles for them. I have a problem with civilians being coerced into serving the government, and with them being placed in danger because of the government. I don't believe the government cares about these people, or that they see them as anything other than a means to an end."_

"Jesus," Hawk muttered. If Cobra Commander was talking about civilians, then this was worse than he had thought.

On the screen, spotlights flickered on, white beams cutting through the darkness like knives. A row of half a dozen glass cylinders were now illuminated. All of them contained people, sitting, standing, kneeling. Most of them looked terrified. Megan Catrenski was in the cylinder to the far right. She was covered in blood and looked eerily calm.

"_Now is your chance to prove me wrong, America. These people are those who have been exploited by the American government. I challenge your politicians to prove that they care. My location is known to them. I want them to prove, to the world, that they will spend their money rescuing these innocents. They have two hours before the clock runs out."_

"Son of a-" Duke began, but the broadcast wasn't over.

"_I assure you, America, I would dearly love to be proved wrong. But I don't think I will be."_

There was utter silence for a moment in the control room, then Beach Head said such a foul word that Hawk laughed out loud. "That sums it up pretty well," he agreed grimly. "Duke, get the team together, I mean now."

"Sir, you know this is a trap," Duke said.

Hawk threw his hands in the air. "Of course it's a trap. He should have had a neon sign posted. But we can't just leave civilians in danger, and broadcasting that to the whole world has forced our hands. Breaker?"

"I traced the feed," Breaker agreed. "They're broadcasting from California."

"This is a trap," Duke repeated stubbornly. "We're walking into an ambush."

Hawk shrugged. "Of course it is. But that's what we do."


	4. Escape

**Disclaimer: **I do not own G. I. Joe, nor any trademark names in this story. I do own Megan Catrenski and any OCs that may appear, unless stated otherwise.

**Author's Note:** This _is_ the second posting, I did make one small mistake the first time around. Thanks to Karama9 for pointing it out.

* * *

><p><strong>ESCAPE<strong>

The room was dark, and I couldn't hear a thing through the glass. I could have been suspended in water for all the sensory input I was receiving. I sat there, I don't know for how long... at least fifteen minutes. Then a spotlight flickered on in my cylinder. I still couldn't see outside, though; if anything it made the concept even more remote, since the light completely destroyed my night-vision.

I waited.

A person possessed of a huge ego can recognise others of her ilk, whether she can read their faces or not. I knew that Cobra Commander would be back to gloat, and sure enough, there he came, stepping into the pool of light.

"What's happening?" I asked him.

"It doesn't matter."

"Really?"

"No. You see, the army is coming to rescue some people from this facility," Cobra Commander waved an arm. "But you will not be among them. Your friends will not find you here."

"I wouldn't use the word 'friends'," I said drily. "They hired me."

"Yes, I have heard of your cheap parlour tricks. They fail to impress me."

"That's why your voice is being filtered?"

Was that a burst of static, or had he really just _hissed_ at me? He turned to someone outside my field of vision and ordered, "Summon Mindbender," then turned back and said, "You will die a painful death. Know that."

I shrugged. No way in hell was I going to let this face-covered freak know that I was beginning to worry.

As we looked at each other, the lights suddenly flickered. There was a deep, rumbling boom a few seconds later. Cobra Commander's fist clenched. "Storm Shadow! Tell me what is going on."

The ninja darted from the room. I watched him go, and then turned to the Commander. "What did you do to him?" I asked, my voice flat.

"Magnificent, isn't it?"

I would have said terrifying, but Storm Shadow returned before I could unravel the issue further.

"The Joes are here, Commander," he reported. "They are already within the facility."

"We will go at once." The Commander wheeled around and headed for a stretch of blank wall.

Storm Shadow looked at me. "The girl?"

"You really are just an empty slate, aren't you?" I asked, sickened. "You don't even realise what's been done to you."

I might as well have been talking to a blank wall for all the response I got. Cobra Commander stopped and looked back at me. "We have no time to take her with us. Leave her to die like the rest."

* * *

><p>Snake Eyes was taking point. Scarlett and Duke followed close behind, guns raised and ready. Breaker, Ripcord and Heavy Duty padded down the hallway after them, the larger man clutching his massive gun, graceful and quiet despite his size.<p>

The complex was crawling with Cobra troops, but Breaker had hacked into the security feed, and was directing them on where to go. They didn't go out of their way to avoid the troops, of course, but a few judicious pauses had saved them ammunition and cost them not much time.

"The feed is coming from the room just ahead," Breaker reported softly from his position behind Duke.

Snake Eyes held up a clenched fist, and slipped through the doorway as they all paused, his sword unsheathed. The next instant he had reappeared and gestured frantically for them all to enter. They rushed into the room, now lit with fluorescent light bulbs. The six glass tubes were all in the room, all containing their civilians. Duke knew, from the files, that they had two independent FBI consultants, a civilian weapons-dealer, two non-military army scientists, and Catrenski.

"Breaker, get them out now," Duke said calmly, waving at the people who had begun hammering on the insides of the container, as if he couldn't see them. "Right now."

Breaker, already on his way inside the system, just grunted in agreement. "Damn," he muttered. "This firewall is fierce. This will take a minute."

"I'm not sure we have a minute," Scarlett said to Duke. "Something about this is completely off."

"I agree," he said, gun raised. "Where are all the guards?"

"Duke, I can't get into this network without a code," Breaker called. "I'm sorry, but this is some serious encryption."

"Can't you just re-wire it?" Ripcord asked.

"No I can't _just re-wire_ it!" Breaker snapped, typing furiously. "If I could _just re-wire_ it, I would _just re-wire_ it! I need that code!"

Catrenski rapped on the glass to get their attention, then breathed on the inside and began writing with her fingertip in the misty patch that had appeared.

35843.

Duke and Scarlett stared at her for a moment, then Duke palmed his forehead. "Lip-reader."

"Breaker, try 35843," Scarlett called.

Breaker entered the code, and with a soft hiss, five containers sank into the ground. Catrenski's stayed intact.

"Breaker..." Duke began.

"They separated Catrenski's from the network," Breaker called. "I can get it open, just give me a few minutes."

"Scarlett, take Ripcord and Heavy Duty and get the other hostages out," Duke ordered. "Snake Eyes." The ninja looked at him. "Help me break this thing."

Snake Eyes nodded, drew his Uzi and began firing at the glass. Catrenski crouched down and covered her face.

The glass developed a maze of tiny cracks, but stayed intact. Duke stepped forwards brandishing his own weapon, but Snake Eyes waved him aside, darted forwards and began kicking the glass. The cracks grew, but still nothing.

"Can you hurry it up?" Duke asked edgily.

Snake Eyes paused, drew his sword, and thrust it at the weakened glass. It was no match for the hardened steel: the sword slid right in. Snake Eyes whipped it back out and began kicking the edges of the break again. Bit by tiny bit, the hole grew.

"Scarlett?" Duke cried. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"The blast doors are sealed," Scarlett said grimly, forcing her way through the terrified, milling civilians to get to him. "We can't get out."

"This place is sending the information from its computers to an external location, Duke," Breaker called. "What the hell is going on?"

* * *

><p>I only overheard Breaker's last comment, but I had been following the conversation as much as possible through the glass, so I wasn't paying attention when the ninja finally got me out. With one last kick and a thunderous crash, my cylinder finally shattered. I scrambled out awkwardly, trying not to put any weight on my bad leg.<p>

"You alright?" Scarlett asked.

"Yeah," I said briefly. "What's going on?"

"Duke," Breaker said. Something in his voice made us all take a look at his pale, drawn face. I felt my stomach clench. This was going to be bad. "Duke, they set the self-destruct and sealed us in here."

"Heavy Duty, got any C4?" Duke asked the huge black man.

"Only enough for one door, and we musta passed at least six on the way down here," he replied.

The other civilians were beginning to panic, but Duke ignored them. "How long?"

Breaker thought for a second. "They're funnelling their data out of this system at a pretty good speed. Three minutes if the rate of exchange stays constant."

"Hey," I interrupted, hopping forwards. "There's an elevator in that wall." I pointed at the escape route Cobra Commander and Storm Shadow had used. "Don't know what blast doors look like though, sorry."

The ninja was already over there, jamming his sword in between the paper-thin crack. With a massive heave, he forced them apart, revealing the midnight-black shaft.

"We don't have harnesses," Scarlett said to Duke, her voice too low for the others to overhear.

"We've also got no other choice," Duke replied grimly. "Snake Eyes, how deep is it?"

The masked guy – Snake Eyes, what a cool name – had already pulled a torch from his belt and checked. Then he looked back at Duke and signed something with his hands.

I bit my lip. No voice, no face...not good. "What did he say?" I asked Scarlett abruptly.

"He said it was deep enough to get us clear," she responded absently. Oh, she had a thing for him. How sickeningly sweet.

"So that's what we'll do. I can help," Duke said. Clearly Scarlett had given me the abridged version of whatever Snake Eyes had signed. "Alright, listen! The elevator will be our way out. We have no harnesses, but we _will_ lower you as far as possible, and there _will _be people to catch you."

"Two minutes," Breaker called urgently.

"Snake Eyes, you get the lower doors of the elevator open," Duke ordered. "Heavy Duty and I will handle the catching."

Snake Eyes nodded, and stepped backwards into the elevator shaft. I winced, but nobody else even reacted, and there were no ominous breaking noises, so I could only assume his bones were intact. Heavy Duty reached in, grabbed the cables and lowered himself down, hand over hand, Duke following.

Scarlett motioned me over. "You first."

I accepted her hand and hobbled over to the shaft. She held on tight to both my wrists as I descended into the darkness; when we were both stretched as far as possible, she let go of my hands. I only fell for a few seconds before Heavy Duty caught me. He set me down on top of the elevator next to him and cautioned, "Stay 'way from that hatch, Snakes has to blow the doors."

The ninja in question swung up through the open maintenance hatch, closed it, and pressed a detonator hanging from his belt. There was a very small muffled explosion. I grabbed the wall of the shaft for support. He opened the hatch and disappeared into the carriage again.

"Someone should tell him he can't use C4 to solve all his problems," I murmured. Heavy Duty heard me and laughed a deep, rumbling laugh tinged with surprise.

"Get down there, the doors should be open," Duke ordered.

I saluted, even though he couldn't see me, and lowered myself through the hatch. I landed, and didn't slip. The doors were open. I stepped out of them, and very nearly stepped back in.

"Eugh. Is that sewerage?"

"It's an escape route, not a boulevard, now move!" Duke yelled as another civilian joined me in the elevator.

"Sixty seconds," Breaker called distantly, his voice echoing down the shaft.

I sighed and set out, following the barely-visible ninja through the reeking gloom. We were on a wide, poorly-maintained walkway that showed clear evidence of someone passing through here recently. I just hoped that it wasn't too long, or the self-destruct might bring the whole tunnel down on us. As the line behind me grew, I sped up into a slow jog, trying not to slip, trying to force my leg not to buckle.

Duke, Ripcord and Scarlett appeared out of nowhere, having passed the rest of us at a much faster pace. While Duke kept going, Scarlett and Ripcord fell into place next to me and grabbed my elbows, pulling me along and supporting me at the same time without a word. I appreciated the effort, but at the same time I was really struggling not to start slapping away their hands.

"Ten seconds," Breaker called from the back of the line. The pace increased even more. My leg was failing at regular intervals now, but Scarlett and Ripcord kept me upright and moving.

"Three...two...one..."

The tunnel shook, and tiny bits of masonry rained down on us. We all froze and grabbed the wall, trying not to be shaken off into the toxic soup that swirled past two metres away. I nearly toppled in, but the two Joes hadn't let go yet, and I didn't fall far.

"Thanks," I said, trying to keep my voice firm and doing fairly well.

Duke exhaled ahead of us in the darkness. "Come on."

Moving more slowly – but still pretty quickly, because honestly, that place reeked – we finally got to the end of the tunnel. An iron ladder, fixed to the wall, let us up into a dim basement, which led into a no-name commercial building on the seedy side of town. We were maybe three blocks away from the exploded building, but it had been enough.

"Transport is coming for all of us soon," Duke called. "Everyone can relax now."

There wouldn't be much relaxing going on, I could see. The faces of the other five hostages showed shock, horror, fear, disgust... the usual range that I picked up in survivors of any accident or attack.

I felt fine. Calm, badly wanting a shower, but otherwise... maybe I was in shock. Or maybe, after all this time, I had finally become desensitised.

Duke interrupted my thoughts as he sat down next to me on the steps of the building.

"So what now?" I asked, straightening my sore leg.

"You need to go to hospital to get that leg looked at, and your head," he told me. "Then–"

"Protective custody?" I sighed.

A strange look crossed his face. It looked like vague remembrance, and speculation. "We'll see."

* * *

><p>I heard footsteps in the hall. The owner checked the room number, knocked on the door and entered. I was sitting on the bed, listening as a young doctor cleaned the wound on my head and talked at me.<p>

"Excuse me," General Clayton Abernathy said politely. It was clear what he wanted.

"But I'm not finished!" the woman objected.

"This will only take a moment," Hawk assured her. Huffing, the doctor left the room and Hawk sat down.

"Nice to see you again," I said politely.

"Likewise. How's your head?"

"Fine. Scalp wounds bleed a lot. My leg was only bruised. It will be fine too."

His face wasn't blank – far from it – but I was tired, and I wasn't reading his expressions the way I normally did, so his next words took me completely by surprise.

"Would you consider working for us?"

"Us?" I repeated, scrambling to collect my thoughts.

"G.I. Joe. At this point in time, we can't be sure Cobra won't come after you again. The only other option that will definitely remove you from danger is to offer you protective custody for an unknown period of time, and that would take a while to arrange, since our safe-houses are less than safe now."

"The interviewer _was_ crooked, then."

"You sound less than surprised."

I shrugged. "I heard his voice. It was enough." I was more interested in his proposition, though. "I'm a civilian. I'm not military."

"You'd be a member of the support-staff, not a combatant. Besides, past experience has shown that you can be very useful. The Pentagon speaks highly of your abilities, as do the FBI."

"That's nice of them."

"What do you say, or would you rather have time to think it over?"

This was the craziest job offer I had ever received in my life, bar none.

"Sure, I'll work for G.I. Joe."

* * *

><p>Cobra Commander sat, listening as an underling reported on the state of the California facility.<p>

"So the Joes survived," he mused, his displeasure clear. "How... inconvenient."

Storm Shadow, standing behind him, said nothing. Cobra dismissed the man with a wave of his hand and turned to face the ninja. "You think I should have killed those whining wretches and let the Joes discover their bodies?"

Storm Shadow didn't reply.

"No." Cobra Commander answered his own question. "No, they needed to be alive. The Joes needed to have their hands full, with _rescuing _them. They needed to be given the opportunity to be _heroes,_ and to _save the day._ Pah!" He snorted in disgust.

"I think that Megan Catrenski was a mistake," Storm Shadow said suddenly. "I think involving her was a mistake. I think she'll be dangerous."

"You may be correct, Storm Shadow," the Commander told him, "But your purpose is not to think. I shall have to call Mindbender." As he sat down again, he said to himself, "He'll be so disappointed that we didn't bring her to him..."


	5. Interlude

**Disclaimer: **I do not own G. I. Joe, nor any trademark names in this story. I do own Megan Catrenski and any OCs that may appear, unless stated otherwise.

* * *

><p>INTERLUDE<p>

"Hey, Cheshire!" Lady Jaye yelled.

I didn't hear her. I had my headphones plugged in and the speech I was analysing turned up high. Hawk suspected the politican was playing ball with Cobra, accepting money in return for favourable policies. I suspected he was right.

Jaye tapped me on the shoulder. I paused the video, took off my headphones and turned to face her.

"Do you ever flinch?" she demanded, half amused.

I shrugged. "Should I?"

"Haw wants to see you in his office," she told me.

I got up immediately. It had been six months since I joined G.I. Joe, but I had guessed from the start that Hawk was not a man to keep waiting. Lady Jaye's face was open and relaxed – if I was about to get yelled at, it wasn't common knowledge – but I still didn't dawdle.

Hawk stood up when I came in. The man had endearingly good manners. I saluted, and he gave me an approving nod.

"You're been practising." He waved me to a seat. "How is the senator looking?"

"He's looking dirty," I said. "I'd need to talk to him to be a hundred percent, but if you took a closer look at him I wouldn't be surprised if a link does turn up."

"That's an official conclusion?"

I bit back a sigh. Gone were the days when I showed up, watched some TV, told people what I saw and traipsed off into the sunset, and I missed them badly. Now...

"I'll write a report," I told him glumly.

He smiled. "Try not to sound too excited or people may think you actually _like _writing reports."

I forced a smile. He had something on his mind other than my report, or lack thereof, I could tell.

"About the senator. You said it would help if you could talk to him yourself."

I did, about two seconds ago. Good to know you were paying attention. "Yes, sir." He was plotting something, I was sure of it, and he didn't think I would like it.

"I'm starting to think you'd be more useful in the field than in a lab. Have you ever considered it?"

He was right, I didn't like it. "I haven't, sir. Do you mean the type of thing Lady Jaye does, sir?" A subtle reminder that we already had a field actress.

"Similar. Lady Jaye is an excellent example, certainly, but I think that you'd be slightly different in function. Your face-reading abilities are unique, after all."

The sneaky bastard. How could I argue with that? "She is a good agent. Her talents for blending in are remarkable, aren't they?" A less subtle reminder that my talents for blending in were slim to none. I had let my hair grow back to brown, and its style was slightly more conservative, as a sort of mild concession to the fact that I was in the military now, but I still wore my eyebrow piercings and nose stud.

"You know, you avoid writing reports like the plague, but it comes to getting out of something you don't want to do, and you're incredibly eloquent," he said, visibly amused now.

I sighed. "Sir, what are you trying to tell me?"

"I want you to consider making the transition from support staff to field agent." He steepled his fingers. "Don't dismiss it out of hand. You've been useful, with your input on interrogations and things such as the senator, but working out of a lab has set considerable limitations upon you. If you were a field agent, you could access information first-hand, and draw conclusions immediately. You wouldn't be working off stale videos and recordings."

I had to admit, he was making sense. "Besides," he added with a grin. "Ripcord and Ace might keep their money if you weren't around for so many games of poker."

"They know who they're playing," I said, refusing to take responsibility for other peoples' bad choices. "Sir, I'm a terrible actress."

"Really?" He leaned back. "You seem to fake being comfortable around Snake Eyes well enough."

I slumped in my seat. "Is it that obvious?"

"I don't think anyone else has noticed yet. You aren't the only one who can read people, Cheshire. You're the best, but any leader learns to spot trouble before it's brewed in their unit."

"Any _good_ leader," I murmured, trying for some flattery of my own.

"Maybe so. But you don't like Snake Eyes and you _aren't_ comfortable around him, no matter how much you pretend otherwise."

I said nothing.

"It's because you can't read him, isn't it?"

"Sir, no offence, but why are you bringing it up?"

"I'm bringing it up because if you were to accept the transfer to field agent, you would need extensive hand-to-hand combat training, and Snake Eyes would be the logical choice as your instructor."

I pursed my lips. He was doing a very bad job of making this move sound appealing to me. I said as much, as diplomatically as I could.

"Maybe so," he said again. "I personally think training with him might help you get used to someone you can't read. Of course, it's up to you, but from what I can tell, my conclusion was that a little longer stuck at that desk and you'd be chewing your arm off for something to do. Just think about it, and let me know if you want to remain a technician. Dismissed."

I stood up and saluted again, and left the office. So, it was up to me, he was saying. I was the one who had to declare to him that I wanted to remain chained to a desk, where, he was right, the initial euphoria at being permanently employed by one of the craziest top-secret units in the world was beginning to wear off. I had to take responsibility for my own boredom now; if I said no, I would have nobody to blame but myself.

The sneaky bastard.

* * *

><p>Four days later, I entered the ninja's training room with a surprising amount of nervousness. I had been in here before, of course: Cobra's kidnap attempt had encouraged me to participate fully in the hand-to-hand classes that Beach Head had suggested. This was the first time I would be here alone with Snake Eyes, though.<p>

Actually, it wasn't. Jinx was sitting on a mat near the door, doing stretches. Snake Eyes and the Joe called Kamakura were sparring in the middle of the floor.

"Cheshire," Jinx called with a grin. I liked Jinx; she was a genuinely nice person who hadn't once made a joke about how I looked like a teenager. The teasing was another, secondary motivation for the previous hand-to-hand lessons: I was a step away from punching Clutch in the mouth, and figured I may as well do it right the first time.

I nodded a greeting, and smiled. "Are you teaching me as well?"

"Yeah, Sensei thought we should know how to handle students," Jinx agreed. "He also thought you might have trouble understanding him, you know, with the sign language."

I nodded, wondering if Hawk had been right when he said he was the only person to spot how much Snake Eyes spooked me. "I know sign language now. I can say 'hello', and 'do you want that cupcake?'"

Jinx laughed. "The fact that I don't doubt you'll need both those phrases is a sad indication of how crazy this training will be."

I frowned. "I'm not going to be a ninja, I just need to learn how to fight."

Our conversation was interrupted as Snake Eyes grabbed Kamakura's arm and tossed him a good three metres through the air. He landed hard, and I grimaced, thankful for the mats.

Snake Eyes rotated his shoulders and stepped towards me.

*Hello* I signed.

*Hello* he signed back. Then a flurry of quick hand movements that I just couldn't follow.

"Um... Do I know how to use my hands in combat?" I said uncertainly, glancing at Jinx and Kamakura.

"He asked you what you already know about hand-to-hand combat," Kamakura told me. I hadn't had a lot to do with Kamakura, and I didn't have time to really concentrate on him now, but I could tell he was dismissive of me already.

"I can punch," I told Snake Eyes.

He gestured towards a bag. I stepped up to it and punched it.

"He says your technique is good," Jinx translated. "What about if you're grabbed?"

"I took a self-defence class once that showed us how to get out of it," I said, remembering.

Kamakura snorted. I glanced at him. "Self-defence doesn't count?"

He shrugged. "It's alright for civilians."

Arrogant jerk. "Maybe I should show you and you could tell me what I'm doing wrong?" I asked, blinking at him innocently.

Snake Eyes nodded approval. Kamakura stepped up and grabbed my wrist; I immediately stamped on his instep, grabbed his finger and bent it back to the point of breaking. Kamakura's grip loosened; I used the finger to drag the rest of his hand off me.

"Sensei says you're very fast," Jinx said, trying not to laugh.

"I paid attention when they told us how to stop people from grabbing us," I said, not smiling.

"Can you let go of my finger?" Kamakura asked me.

I considered it, then let go. He shook his hand out, not looking at me. "I could have broken that hold."

"You could pound me into the ground," I agreed. "Good thing you're too much of a gentleman."

"You think so?" There was a blur of movement as he swept his leg around to hook it under mine. I jumped back, but he repeated the movement with the opposite leg almost instantly. I was on my back in less time than it would take me to say any of the grossly inappropriate words raging through my mind.

"Ok," I sighed, not getting up. "How should I have avoided that?"

Snake Eyes offered me a hand. I accepted it, was pulled to my feet, and then, without any warning, he had twisted me into an arm lock.

I said a very bad word, and didn't bother struggling to get free. It would never have worked.

He waited a few moments, then released me and signed a longer message to his students.

"He says that you shouldn't ever trust the people you're fighting," Jinx told me, not even bothering to hold her laughter back now.

"I think I can manage to cultivate a healthy lack of trust," I said grimly.

Snake Eye's shoulders vibrated slightly, and I realised that he was laughing.

* * *

><p>The days continued in their normal course as I started to settle into my role as an I-wasn't-sure-exactly-what-in-training. I spent the morning before breakfast doing PT with the rest of the support staff, the time after breakfast doing my normal work, and then trained in the afternoons with Snake Eyes, Jinx, Kamakura and occasionally Scarlett. After dinner I often chatted with Lady Jaye, getting a better idea of how she did her job.<p>

I became a better fighter surprisingly quickly, or maybe not so surprisingly, considering how I was taught. Snake Eyes would give me drills to do for a few hours, then pit me against Jinx or Kamakura in what they called sparring and what I called relentless, sadistic, ego-inflating hazing. Whenever I had been in fights before joining the Joes, I had relied on being faster than my opponents. Now I wasn't, and I didn't like it one bit.

One thing that mitigated my complete and utter helplessness was that because I could read body language very well, I could sometimes tell what move Jinx, or more often Kamakura, was about to use. If I had been trained to block it, then I could block it easily. If not... Well, I was fast enough and they were trained enough to not break any of my bones.

Bruises were another thing entirely.

* * *

><p>Two months after he had strong-armed me into training with the ninjas, Hawk summoned me into his office, along with Duke, Flint, Lady Jaye, Snake Eyes, Scarlett and Cover Girl.<p>

"We may have a problem," he said bluntly. "There's a benefit at a centre for scientific research in D.C. in two days. Our intelligence just picked up Cobra chatter suggesting that they have an interest in the centre as well. For what reason, we aren't sure."

"What do they research?" Lady Jaye asked.

"Biomedical research," Hawk replied. "It's a corporate facility. They're working on a cancer cure right now."

"That's not usually Cobra's style," Flint said, frowning.

"Maybe they're aiming for sabotage," Duke suggested.

Hawk nodded. "Could be that, could be theft. We don't know yet, but we do know that they're planning something for the night of the benefit."

I frowned. "Sir, maybe it's not the research at all. Maybe one of the guests is their target."

"That's what I thought," he agreed. "There'll be politicians and scientists and rich people galore at this place. Security is pretty good already, but with Cobra's involvement, I've gotten the green light to place some of our people in there."

"What's the plan, sir?" Scarlett asked.

"Snake Eyes, Duke and Scarlett will go in as security. Flint and Lady Jaye will be guests. Cover Girl, I found a friendly politician who's happy to have you as a date." I could believe that. Cover Girl was beyond smoking hot. "Cheshire, you aren't exactly combat-ready yet, but I'm hoping this won't turn into a combat situation. You'll be one of the catering staff. Try and get a look at everyone, and let us know if anyone sets off any alarms."

I nodded. I could do that.

"And Cheshire?" he added. "Leave the piercings at home."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: I had Snake Eyes put Cheshire into an arm lock on her first day because I thought that a ninja would know after six months if someone didn't like him. If someone didn't like him for something that was entirely not his fault, then I thought he deserved to be a little pissed off about it. I also made the training sound intense because I think it would be: the people in command would want every Joe to be as useful as they could be as soon as possible.<strong>


	6. Benefit

Disclaimer: I do not own G. I. Joe, nor any trademark names in this story. I do own Megan Catrenski and any OCs that may appear, unless stated otherwise.

BENEFIT

"I feel like an idiot," I murmured, offering Lady Jaye and Flint a tray of hors d'oeuvre two nights later.

"You look very smart," Lady Jaye said approvingly. I gave her an icy smile and turned to face the rest of the room.

For those who have never given it any thought, a catering assistant is not a good career option for someone who doesn't like to be touched. It involves a lot of manoeuvring through closely-packed rooms and, in certain situations, a few drunks aiming for a cheap feel. I was lucky to have avoided the second, but there was no way to avoid the first without being worse than useless.

I was wearing the catering staff's uniform: black pants, black vest, red shirt. I had borrowed a long black wig from Lady Jaye, and Breaker had supplied me with a pair of glasses. Thick black frames held two new, state of the art cameras. The Joes had eyes on the floor and I was wearing them.

"Anything, Cheshire?" Duke asked into my ear. He was across the room, stationed by the front entrance, looking over at me.

I paused to offer some food to a group of older men, and surreptitiously shook my head. There was a lot here for me to digest, but nothing that was giving me an upset tummy. These people were rich, well-fed and on their way to being slightly tipsy: there was no hostility or aggression here.

There was a slight commotion by the door, and Scarlett chimed in. "The CEO of the company is coming in. Cheshire, try and get close to him."

I made my way through the crowd, hoping my tray wouldn't empty before I could get close. It didn't, and with a bit of judicious side-stepping, I suddenly emerged from the throng right next to a tall elderly man who was wearing a suit that probably cost more than my high-tech-glasses.

"Devilled egg, sir?" I asked sweetly, presenting my tray with the very last devilled egg set dead centre. The man looked down at me and laughed.

"It's my party, why the hell not?" He accepted it with a gracious smile. "Hey, Smith!" he called over my head. "You made it!"

"Alex!" the new guy exclaimed, shoving past me to shake the CEO's hand. "How long has it been? 'Scuse me–" the CEO's friend grabbed my arm. "Be much obliged if you could take my champagne flute, darlin'."

I pasted a big smile on my face, bobbed my head, accepted his glass and turned away as fast as I could. The CEO's friend was a big, overweight Texan man in a white suit, thinning black hair plastered flat across his scalp.

I knew him.

I headed for the kitchen, and the instant I was through the doors, I stepped to the side and said into my cuff-microphone, "Duke, the guy who's talking with the CEO, he's one of the ones from the airport!"

"What?"

"He's one of the ones who tried to grab me for Cobra!"

"Are you telling me you just ID'd Zartan?" Duke hissed.

"Yes!"

"You're sure?"

Why the hell was he wasting my time like this? I set my tray down, grabbed a fresh one and said, "Very. One hundred percent, in fact."

"I have eyes on him," Scarlett said calmly. "He hasn't seen me yet, I don't think. Cheshire, did he recognise you?"

"No." One of the chefs was shooing me to get out of the kitchen, but I ignored him and turned to face the wall. "No, he didn't recognise me." I was sure of that. Recognition is unmistakeable.

"Go take another look," Duke ordered. "Get some more footage if you can."

"I'm not going near him!" I exclaimed. "Just because he hasn't recognised me yet doesn't mean he won't if I go prance in front of him."

"He's moving," Scarlett interrupted. "Heading your way, Cover Girl."

"Shit, he might make me!"

I could believe that. Cover Girl was wearing a wig as well, but she was still pretty distinctive-looking.

"Just be ready to–"

Duke's voice cut off in the middle of whatever he was saying. I tapped my microphone: it was completely frozen.

"Damn," I snarled, stepping out into the room. Duke caught my eye and shrugged, tapping his earpiece. His was dead too. I swore again and looked around. If Zartan was behind this (and I was convinced that he was) we needed to find him. I started working my way through the crowd again, but it was harder now: more people were here, and more people were drinking, and less people were moving aside for the caterers. I saw him suddenly, the white suit moving away from me. Keeping people between us, I trailed him as best I could.

Suddenly, the alarm overhead went off with an ear-splitting shriek, and a red light started flashing. Pandemonium. People started screaming and milling, and in the midst of the chaos, I lost him.

Someone bumped into me and knocked the tray from my hands. I gave up and began elbowing my way through the crowd. Stepping out of the throng and around a statue of some DNA, I found myself all alone. With people streaming towards the exit, this end of the room was deserted.

I saw movement in the corner of my eye, and a swinging door. Nearly deserted.

"He's heading into the building," I called into my useless microphone, and ran into the corridor. The other Joes were trapped by the crowd on the wrong side of the room. I was on my own here.

Once the door closed behind me, the alarm seemed much quieter. There was a blinking light on the wall here too, and I wondered for a moment what it meant. I could hear footsteps up ahead. I knew I should wait for Duke and Flint, but I had no idea where exactly Zartan had gone, and I didn't want to lose him, so I padded off down the corridor in pursuit.

Another door closed in front of me, the noise echoing in the corridor. I sped up and came to a fire door. I pushed through it, and found myself alone on a landing. Darting up a few stairs, I craned my neck to see if there was movement upwards. Nobody. I turned around to look down, and found myself face to face with a gun. The son of a bastard had been hiding behind the door.

"Thought I heard footsteps," he said, stepping forwards. "Now what's a sweet little thing like you doing all alone in a big ole facility like this one here?"

"I thought this was the way out," I said, immediately and tearfully. "I heard someone in front of me and I thought that they were heading for an exit." I sniffled and dragged my hand across my face, trying to obscure my features. He still hadn't recognised me. "Are you security?"

He hesitated, wondering whether to go for the opening I had offered him. Then I saw recognition flash across his face. "Do I know you, little darlin'?"

"Stop calling me that." I lunged forwards and kicked the gun out of his hand. It clattered down the stairwell. He leapt back, as far as he could on the narrow landing. I retreated back up the steps, contemplating making a break for it. Just because he was unarmed didn't mean that he wasn't dangerous. Far from it.

"I do know you," he said slowly, dropping the stupid accent. "Now where do I know a pretty little thing like you from?"

I didn't reply, taking another step out of his reach.

"Doesn't matter, does it?" he asked with a harsh laugh. "Move it, sweetheart. You're in my way."

"Excellent." Where the hell were the Joes? Why hadn't they come looking yet? Then I remembered that we hadn't stayed straight. We had taken turns and passages off the main one. They probably _were_ looking for us. This was bad. "Why are you here?"

"Catrenski," he said suddenly. "The kid in the airport."

"Why are you here? What do you want?"

"Get out of my way. Or the Vipers on the roof will come through you."

"There are no Vipers. You're lying."

"It _is_ you." He laughed. "Jesus, the Joes are recruiting right out of high school, aren't they? How old are you, fifteen?"

I rolled my eyes. He wasn't the first to make that joke. "You want something from one of the labs?" Nope. "Some research they're doing here." Hmm. Warmer. "Someone who's doing the research." Bingo.

"Move it, Catrenski," he ordered, traces of levity fleeing his face. "Now."

"Like hell."

"Suit yourself." Then he attacked.

I had the high ground, and railings on both sides, and I used them to swing myself up and launch a two-footed kick into Zartan's chest. He stumbled backwards, but not before seizing one of my ankles and dragging me down with him.

I landed on my back on the stairs while he stayed upright on the landing. He hadn't let go of my ankle; I kicked his wrist, forcing him to take his hand off my leg, and got my feet under me. He stepped forwards and tried a kick of his own, aiming at my chest. I blocked it with my forearms but it still sent me flying backwards.

Zartan immediately stepped forwards and grabbed my arm, and I used a hold Snake Eyes had shown me to break his finger. He roared and swung a punch at me; I ducked it, but missed the second palm strike with his other hand that caught me on temple. Falling against the railing with stars exploding in my vision, I felt him grab me by the scruff of my neck, drag me onto the landing, and say in a particularly nasty tone, "Good try, _darlin'_."

Then he threw me down a flight of cold, hard, concrete stairs, head first.

I didn't pass out, unfortunately. I say unfortunately because being thrown down a flight of cold hard concrete stairs _hurts._ I did lie there, stunned, for a few moments. I felt I was entitled.

Zartan's getting away, my brain told me. You're going to give up without a fight after he threw you down a flight of stairs?

I don't think I have much of a choice, I told my brain. I'm going nowhere quickly.

Still, the challenge was there, even if it was issued by myself. I gritted my teeth and pulled myself shakily to my hands and knees, and, with a bit of help from the railing, made it all the way vertical. Then I began the long, painful process of climbing back to the landing.

The microphone on my wrist crackled back to life. "Cheshire!" Duke called into my ear. "Cheshire!"

"Here," I said, swaying slightly on my feet. "Zartan got away, Duke."

"Where the hell are you?"

"Stairway at the north end of the building."

"En route," Lady Jaye said, her voice very faint.

Something about my voice had finally caught Duke's attention. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." I sat down on the landing, rubbing my shoulder. It was really sore. I think that was what I had landed on.

The door slammed open and Lady Jaye, Snake Eyes and Flint appeared, brandishing guns. I waved at them. "He went up," I said, nodding at the stairs and immediately regretting it.

Flint and Snake Eyes charged off without another word, but Lady Jaye put away her gun and sat down next to me. "I think he's gone," she told me. "He had the jamming device; it's not working anymore, so I'd say he's gotten out of range."

I nodded agreement. It made sense.

"What happened to you?" Lady Jaye asked.

"Fell down the stairs."

"Ouch. Are you alright?"

I nodded again. "Sore. But fine. Broke one of his fingers, too."

"Good work. Come on." She grabbed my arm and helped me up as Snake Eyes and Flint returned looking dispirited.

*Alright?* Snake Eyes signed.

"Fine," I said tonelessly. He didn't scare me anymore, but I really just didn't feel like talking right now.

We made our way back to the main room. Security was combing the place, and Duke and Scarlett were talking in a corner.

"What happened, Cheshire?" Duke asked immediately.

"I followed Zartan, he pulled a gun, I made him drop the gun, and he threw me down a flight of stairs," I said flatly. "He wanted someone in the building, Duke. One of the scientists here. Or at least someone who was doing research. Who does research in the middle of a party though?"

"How do you know?" Duke demanded.

"I asked him."

"Right. And he just told you."

"Yes he just told me, because that's what I do." My voice was icy cold; I was a step away from losing my temper and an inch away from insulting a superior officer.

Scarlett quickly stepped between us. "So we need a list of all the personnel in the building."

"I'll talk to the head of security," Lady Jaye volunteered, just as eager to avoid a fight.

"Is he the guy with brown hair and a beard standing to the right?" I asked.

Lady Jaye glanced over. "That's the one."

"We'd be better off sending Cover Girl," I suggested. "He hasn't taken his eyes off her since she came in." They all looked at me. I shrugged. "I suppose he has a thing for blondes. Just don't let him know you're really a redhead."

Duke nodded at the woman. Cover Girl grinned, patted her blond wig affectionately and sashayed over to the man, a vision of long legs, toned bare skin and sparkling blue evening dress.

Duke began issuing orders, Lady Jaye and Flint began following them, and Scarlett pulled out a phone and began talking on it. I leaned against the wall, waiting for him to get to me. Snake Eyes leaned back next to me. From the way his head was turned, I thought he was looking at me.

*Are you alright?*

"I told you, I'm fine."

*You seem unhappy.*

"I did get thrown down the stairs."

*What happened?*

"I got thrown down the stairs."

*Before that. Describe the fight.*

I thought back. "I kicked him to make him drop the gun, I kicked him in the chest, he grabbed my foot and made me fall over, I made him let go, he kicked _me_ in the chest, he grabbed my arm, I broke his finger, he tried to hit me in the head, I ducked, he hit me in the head and then threw me down the stairs."

*So you did well.*

"I got _thrown_ down the _stairs._"

*You still did well.*

I thought about it for a moment. "Thanks."

*Zartan is a master at several martial arts. You shouldn't have tried to fight him.*

"I thought I did well?" I eyed him sideways.

*You got thrown down the stairs.*

"I'm a little confused now."

*I'm saying that although you did well, you shouldn't have tried to fight him, because he's better than you no matter what.*

"Is he better than you?"

*No.*

"So I just have to be better than you next time. No pressure then." I reached up and pulled my wig off, massaging my scalp in relief.

"Cheshire," Duke called. "Go talk to the CEO. I want to know who Zartan was impersonating."

I saluted, even though his back had turned, and turned to Snake Eyes.

"Talk to you later," I said absently, stepping away from the wall.

*Of course,* he replied.

If it had been anyone else, I would have been able to tell if that was a joke. With Snake Eyes? I didn't have a clue.

**Author's Note: I know I might get accused of giving Cheshire Mary Sue status in that she almost beat Zartan in a fight, so I'll say this here: she didn't beat Zartan in a fight. That's the point. I did have her holding her own for a few moments, because I figured that after training with the one of the best ninja in the world, she'd definitely be showing signs of improvement (and she had the element of surprise on her side). But just to reiterate: she did not win the fight, she did not suddenly get superpowers, and she is not going to become a Mary Sue (hopefully).**


	7. Double Bluff

**Author's Note: This chapter is a tiny bit slow, but it gets a lot better at the end, and it is necessary for the next chapter, I promise. So please bear with me. **

**Disclaimer: **I do not own G. I. Joe, nor any trademark names in this story. I do own Megan Catrenski and any OCs that may appear, unless stated otherwise.

* * *

><p>DOUBLE BLUFF<p>

"So what do we know?" Duke asked the next morning.

I went first. "Whatever that corporation is making, it's not related to cancer research. The CEO skated around my questions like we were on an ice rink. He's making something there that isn't kosher."

"So there was a good reason for Cobra to be involved," Scarlett said, rubbing her forehead. "I really wish we had known this before last night."

I agreed. I could barely move my shoulder when I woke up this morning.

"I couldn't pin him down, I didn't have enough time, but there is definitely something going on in there that shouldn't be," I finished. "He thinks he knows what Zartan was after, but when I talked to him, he didn't know if Zartan had gotten it or not."

"You said that Zartan was after a person," Duke reminded me.

"I _know_ he was after a person, but the CEO seems to think that Zartan was after an item," I said patiently. After last night's near miss, I was being very careful not to blow up again. "I could talk to the staff, I suppose, but it would be good if I wasn't just shooting in the dark. A company that big, I could go through three hundred names before I get anywhere. Besides, if they don't know that they're targets, I'd get nothing."

"The corporation hires five hundred people," Flint said. He and Lady Jaye looked exhausted. "We've been checking them out all day. None of them should have been at the benefit except for the senior scientists, and they were all present and accounted for when the alarm went off."

"Criminal records, ties to Cobra?"

"No records, no ties. These people are all squeaky clean."

We all lapsed into silence, thinking this over.

"Duke," I said finally, remembering one of my thoughts from the night before, "I don't think that this was about kidnapping."

"Why?" Scarlett asked.

"Not to sound self-centred, but when they tried to grab me Cobra sent two people, and I'm a female civilian who isn't very large and wasn't very strong. If they were going to kidnap someone, wouldn't they need at least two people? And why grab someone in the middle of a crowded benefit anyway?"

Duke sighed and began tapping the table. "We thought of that too."

I nodded, feeling like an idiot for stating the obvious.

"Good thinking," he added, "But we think it's far more likely that Cobra was trying to communicate with someone." I felt a little swell of pride that they were operating on my theory of it being someone, not some_thing_, that was important, but I hid it carefully.

"But that doesn't make sense either," Scarlett growled, frustrated, "Because the people who work there would be easier to contact at home!" She and Duke had clearly discussed this already.

We argued back and forth for a few hours, trying to make sense of the puzzle. Finally Duke dismissed us, adding, "We'll know what the CEO was worried about soon enough. The company is doing a stock-take of sorts, double-checking everything is present. When we have that information, we'll know for sure."

* * *

><p>Snake Eyes had skipped the meeting, guessing correctly that there wouldn't be enough information at this point in time for any conclusions to be made. He and Kamakura and Jinx were in the dojo, meditating, when he heard the door open. He cracked one eye: Cheshire had shown up. She stopped short and started to back up, then seemed to reconsider, and sat down on a mat, ready to wait until they were finished. Snake Eyes felt a little surprised: Cheshire had made her opinion on meditation quite clear.<p>

*Usually you see us meditating and you run,* Snake Eyes signed.

*It's boring,* she signed back, not wanting to disturb the other two. Snake Eyes had been surprised at how forthright the young Joe had been around him, from the very beginning. Generally, she was a difficult person to get a grip on. Then he had realised that her inability to read him had unsettled her to the point of dropping her customary guard. Now it seemed to be habit.

*It's relaxing.*

*That's nice.*

Jinx and Kamakura opened their eyes, in time to see Snake Eyes ask Cheshire what she wanted.

"I always come to train at this time of day," she said out loud.

*I thought you would be too tired after last night.* She did have dark shadows under her eyes, but she didn't stir.

"I'm not so tired."

*Isn't your shoulder sore?* She was certainly holding it like it was.

"It's fine." A curt, short sentence. Her way of speaking when something wasn't fine but she would never admit it.

Snake Eyes mentally shrugged. *If you want to begin the drills I showed you yesterday...*

"Actually, I wondered if we could spar all day today," she said, glancing at the floor.

He cocked his head. *Not that I'm complaining, but why the sudden enthusiasm?*

Cheshire began to fidget. "Hawk hasn't given up on his idea of making me a field agent. And now Cobra knows where I am."

Snake Eyes felt his eyes widen in realisation. Cheshire the ice queen was scared. *That's a good point.

* * *

><p>After stretching, Jinx and I began sparring. Snake Eyes encouraged his students to talk while they fought: he was of the opinion that if you could fight well when you were distracted, you would be able to fight very well when you weren't. Besides, it meant I could tell him what had been said at the meeting.<p>

"So we have no idea why Cobra was there," Jinx summarised, tossing me to the floor.

I got up and assumed the defensive stance again. "No. I'm sure Zartan was after someone, but Duke is still sure that he was after some_thing_, so he's going to get a list of everything the centre has when they're finished–"

I froze, mid-move, and Jinx, unable to pull her blow in time, sent me flying backwards. "What the hell, Cheshire?" she demanded, guilt all over her face. "I thought you knew how to block that one?"

"I'm an idiot," I said, scrambling to my feet.

"Yeah, generally when someone tries to hit you, you try to stop them!"

"No, Jinx, listen! Zartan was there to set the alarm off!" I said, ideas tumbling out of my mouth. "He set the alarm because he knew that they would check everything the next day! He was there to see all of the top scientists, so he could impersonate them _today_!"

Snake Eyes froze. *He's there now?*

"He has to be! What's the best time to steal something?" I demanded, looking around at them.

"Right after someone's signed a piece of paper saying that that thing hasn't been stolen," Kamakura said slowly. "Son of a–"

I didn't wait for him to finish. I was already flying down the corridor, looking for Duke.

* * *

><p>Hawk rubbed his forehead several hours later. "You were right," he told me. His tone made it clear that he wished I hadn't been. "They weren't happy about double-checking, but when I made it clear that this wasn't a request, they made the effort. And now they know that they're missing a number of very unstable, very dangerous chemicals."<p>

I tried to feel anything but pleased about being right, and found that I couldn't.

"Why the hell were they making chemicals like this?" Duke exclaimed, looking over a list. Flint and Stalker, in the office with us, looked like the same thought had crossed their minds. "How are they used in cancer research?"

"I intend to find out," Hawk told him grimly. "Cheshire. We have every single bit of footage from every single camera here at the Pit. I want you to go over them. Keep an eye out for this guy, he might be who Zartan was wearing." He passed me a photo. I looked at it, and it took every single ounce of willpower I possessed not to flinch.

"Why this man, sir?" I asked, keeping my voice smooth.

"He was the researcher in charge of the project, his name is Raymond Dermish. He showed up in the morning and hasn't been seen since. The logical choice for Zartan, I would think."

"This man wasn't at the benefit last night," I told Hawk. Duke glanced at me, maybe picking up on something off in my voice.

Hawk shrugged. "I can't explain that, then. But you picked Zartan once, you might be able to do it again."

"I think last night might have been a fluke, sir, but I'll try." I twisted my mouth to let him know how unlikely it was, but stood and saluted anyway. As the door closed behind me, I heard Duke begin to say, "Have they made any demands?"

* * *

><p>"Have they made any demands?"<p>

Hawk shook his head. "None yet, but I'm very much hoping that they will. Otherwise–"

"It means that they intend to use this shit," Stalker agreed grimly.

A grim silence fell. There was nothing really that could be done until more information was available, but strangely enough, none of the men enjoyed waiting.

"You think Cheshire will really ID Zartan again?" Duke asked finally.

Hawk glanced at him. "She did once before." He knew that Cheshire hadn't made a great first impression on Duke. She hadn't made a good first impression on him, for that matter. Now he was wondering what was going through the blonde man's head.

Duke didn't say anything else. Flint quickly stepped into the silence and asked, "Is there any other way for Cobra to use these chemicals as weapons? Do we know what they do yet?"

"We don't know. This doctor, Raymond Dermish, was in charge of the research that was using them," Hawk told them. "I'm waiting for the company to send us his research now."

"If Zartan was pretending to be him, where is Dermish now?" Stalker asked.

Silence fell again. Nobody wanted to answer that question.

The intercom on Hawk's desk crackled, and Dial-Tone's voice came out loud and clear. "Sir! Cobra is contacting the UN now, and I mean at this very moment!"

The four men leaped to their feet and sped from the room, Hawk barking instructions left, right and centre.

Dial-Tone was waiting. "We delayed the transmission, sir," he reported. "They're still trying, but they could abort at any minute. What are your orders?"

"Is there any way to establish contact with them ourselves?"

"No sir. We can block it, stream it here and track it, but it's a one-way deal."

"Track it then. Where the hell is Cheshire?"

"Here," she said, striding into the room.

Hawk took a deep breath. His next words could solve a lot of problems, or simply make them much, much worse. "Let the transmission through."

* * *

><p>"<em>Ladies and gentlemen, I will be brief."<em>

Cobra Commander's voice filled the room. Cheshire wrinkled her nose; he hadn't bothered with the voice modulator this time, and now she could tell that the sibilance hadn't just been in her head.

"_I have some very dangerous chemicals, and I am quite prepared to use them. Naturally, you're unaware of a certain new patent. I believe the official name is Agent Omega. For information on this, please, ask your nearest representative of the American government. They'll know what I mean. As to my demands... I think we'll deal with them later. When you are all aware of _exactly_ what is in my possession. Three hours. Enjoy your afternoons._"

Silence fell in the control room. "Why not make his demands now?" Breaker asked Scarlett softly.

Cheshire, standing near him, replied. "Nobody in the UN knows what this Agent Omega stuff is," she told him, her voice carrying in the quiet room. "He needs them to be properly panicked about the situation before they're willing to listen to him."

Hawk looked at her. She met his eyes squarely. "Was he lying?" he asked gravely.

Cheshire shook her head. "No. No, he wasn't."Then she frowned, an expression that went unnoticed by anyone other than Scarlett.

"What?" she asked, edging closer to whisper to the younger woman.

"Something..." Cheshire began, rubbing her forehead. "I don't know."

Scarlett shrugged and moved to join the conversation. Cheshire stayed where she was, frowning at the ground.

* * *

><p>Something was nagging me about the Commander's presentation. I didn't have a clue what it was, though.<p>

"Dial-Tone," I said suddenly, "Replay the whole thing, would you?"

"Why?" Dial-Tone asked, startled.

"Please?" I said patiently.

He didn't move, except for his mouth, shaping his next question. I had used up all my patience for the day when I said please; now I just stepped up and tapped a series of commands into the keyboard, turning the volume way up. Then I pressed play, and stepped back to watch.

* * *

><p>"It's irrelevant," Scarlett said. "We don't even know–"<p>

"_LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, I WILL BE BRIEF."_

_"_Ah! What the hell, Dial-Tone?" Scarlett yelled, turning to the bewildered technician.

Dial-Tone raised his hands and pointed accusingly at Cheshire, who was stepping away from the console. "Not me!" he called.

"Cheshire," Flint began.

She waved a hand vaguely in his direction, eyes fixed on the screen. Flint opened his mouth to yell again, and Hawk laid a hand on his shoulder.

"I think she might be working, son," he told the Warrant Officer.

They stood there, watching Cheshire. She stayed stock still, watching the screen. Then her head tilted, ever so slightly.

The recording came to an end. "Replay," Cheshire said in a dreamy, distant voice.

Hawk nodded at Dial-Tone. The man replayed the tape. Cheshire's head-tilt deepened, her eyes narrowed: she looked like a perplexed cat.

The recording finished again. Cheshire closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them. A big grin spread over her face. "Permission to contradict myself, sir," she said to Hawk in a normal tone. "He was lying through his teeth."

"Explain," Hawk ordered.

"He has some dangerous chemicals. There's a new patent called Agent Omega which the government knows about." Her grin became even larger. "Doesn't mean Agent Omega is one of the chemicals he has in his possession, sir."

"You're willing to swear by this?" Hawk asked.

"Yep. He knows I'm here, but he's not using a voice-thing," Cheshire said chirpily. "Zartan must have told him, but he _is_ technically telling the truth, and he knew that I would tell you that. Besides, if the CEO's company was making something for the government, he wouldn't have been so terrified about answering a government agent's questions. This is one big bluff, sir."

"And the dangerous chemicals?" Flint asked, his voice heavy with scepticism.

Cheshire looked like she was close to shrugging. "Household bleach is technically dangerous."

"That's not good enough," Duke said sharply.

"That's the best I can do," Cheshire told him, her voice nearly as sharp.

"He's right," Hawk said. "It's not nearly enough to warrant not taking any action against him." Cheshire's look was very nearly a glare, but he stared her down until she had dropped her gaze. "Scarlett," he said in a more mild tone. "Take Roadblock, Mainframe and Cheshire and go talk to the CEO. I want to know _exactly _what was taken and how it can be used."

"Yes sir," Scarlett said.

"No need to be particularly polite," Hawk added.

Cheshire didn't smile often, but now her eyes crinkled appreciatively.

* * *

><p>I sat in the back with Roadblock while Scarlett drove us to the centre. The picture of Raymond Dermish rustled in my pocket whenever I moved, but I didn't move often; for one thing, there simply wasn't enough room. It would have made no sense to send a small, scrawny Joe along to intimidate the CEO, but Roadblock was a big guy. For another, I had things on my mind.<p>

"How do you want to play this?" Scarlett asked me finally, snapping me out of my thoughts. It was getting late, and I could only see the side of her face in the light cast by the city around us.

"You ask him questions, I'll tell you if he's lying, Roadblock can scare him into talking if he gets too whiny," I suggested. "That's the best I can do."

Roadblock shifted next to me. "You alright?"

"Me?" I looked at him in surprise. "I'm fine. Why?"

"You think the CEO is still here?" Mainframe asked hastily.

"He is," Scarlett said positively as we pulled into the car park. "His Lexus hasn't gone anywhere."

We found him in his office, talking to a very pretty woman whom I immediately pegged as a scientist. She was too involved to be a secretary: lines of worry creased her forehead.

"Mr Smythe," Scarlett said politely. "I'm afraid we have some more questions for you. First of all, though, we'll need access to Dermish's computer."

"Well, I'm sure one of my staff will be able to direct you to the lab," Smythe said, looking worried.

"We'd like to talk to you," Scarlett said, politely, firmly.

"Can I meet you down there? I have a few things to wrap up."

It was technically his company, so we didn't squabble. Instead, we trooped down to the lab behind a security guard like good little munchkins, albeit ones carrying very advanced weaponry. The security on this place was impressive when it wasn't turned off, as it had been on the night of the benefit.

Mainframe settled down happily at the computer once he reached the lab. Scarlett wandered around, looking at the sheets tacked to the walls. Roadblock leaned back, probably afraid to touch anything in case it shattered into a million pieces.

I pulled out my phone, stepped into the corridor and made a quick report to General Hawk.

Just as I finished, I heard Smythe approaching. Snapping the phone shut, I slid back into the lab; when he came in, I was standing there, completely innocent.

"We've had our people searching it since we realised Raymond was missing," Smythe told us immediately. The woman from his office had followed him in without a word. Definitely not a secretary. "They haven't had a lot of luck, though. The hard drive was wiped."

Smythe looked as if he were about to run; I glanced at Roadblock and directed him with my eyes to stand between the CEO and the door.

"I don't know if I can help you," Smythe said politely, looking desperately for other exits. I translated that as _I won't try to help you._ "This is my head of R and D, Dr Helen Miranov. She might be able to, but I honestly can't tell you what's going on."

"Cheshire?" Scarlett asked.

I had been standing to one side, watching. "He won't help us. He'll stonewall and hide everything he can, hoping to make us give up eventually. Or at least, he would've. But now he knows that if he does, I'll call his wife and let her know about him and Ms. Miranov. Oh, I'm sorry; _Mrs._ Miranov. I might make a quick call your husband, Mrs. Miranov, if I get particularly fed up."

The woman gave me a long, hard look. "It's Doctor. _Doctor _Miranov." She had balls. With that one sentence, she had bought respect and immunity from me, but I wasn't going to tell her that.

"Let's try this again, why don't we?" Scarlett asked brightly. "So, Mr Smythe, what can you tell us about Agent Omega?"

"Agent Omega? It's... it's a patent," he said, staring. "It's meant to be a nerve-gas. It doesn't work yet, though." He hadn't been expecting us to ask him about Agent Omega, that was clear.

"Was that what Zartan took?" I nudged.

"Zartan is the man who stole from you," Scarlett said quickly, keeping her eyes focused on Smythe's face, her arms crossed, her gun very visible.

"He took that," Smythe agreed.

"What else?" I interrupted.

He opened his mouth, and I interrupted again. "Don't lie to me."

"I didn't say anything."

"I thought I would save us all some time. Don't lie. I'll know if you do."

Smythe looked at me, and he looked at Doctor Miranov, and then he looked down at the floor. "Dermish was working on epigenetic chemicals," he said softly. "He was trying to find environmental triggers to shut off and turn on certain genes."

"And he was being illegal about it," I told Scarlett.

"I suspected he was," Smythe agreed. "Some of his results... They involved references to a test subject who was not mentally capable of agreeing to an experiment like the one he was conducting. It was..."

"Continue," Scarlett said. Roadblock, behind Smythe, cracked his knuckles meaningfully when the man hesitated.

"He was looking for a cure for mental illnesses," Smythe said quickly. "But that-"

"That meant experimenting on mentally ill people," Mainframe finished for him. "You were allowing him to abuse his patients."

"It was Dermish's research!" Smythe protested, jumping back as Scarlett took an involuntary step towards him. "He wasn't getting anywhere, so I told him to can it twenty years ago!"

"Wait, what?" I asked. "Twenty years ago?"

"Yes, that was when he ran out of time," Smythe told me. "I told him to start working on something productive for the company–"

"And he came up with Agent Omega," Mainframe said, thinking out loud. He had found something that worried him in Dermish's computer. "A nerve gas which doesn't work."

"Yes, he's been working on that for the past twenty years."

"No he hasn't," Mainframe said softly. "No, he's been working on the same thing for thirty years. A cure for mental illnesses. A chemical trigger to vaccinate people against their own minds. His records are still all here. He spent the bare minimum of time on Agent Omega."

"That makes absolutely no sense," Scarlett said. "Why would Cobra want that?"

"Unless they _were _after Agent Omega the whole time," Mainframe suggested.

"No," I said, "I'm still convinced Zartan was trying to get to a person. But that doesn't make any sense," I said, exasperated with myself, "Because the only person he had _any_ contact with was the CEO!"

Smythe looked at me, and he smiled. Then his foot shot out backwards and caught Roadblock in the throat, sending the big guy toppling backwards. In the same move, he pulled a gun, whirled, and shot Roadblock in the neck. I heard the hiss of the gun, saw the complete lack of blood, and felt an instant of relief when the words _tranquiliser gun _strayed across my mind. Scarlett and I both tensed for action, then froze when Doctor Miranov pulled a gun – a real firearm this time – and pointed it squarely at us.

"Wondered why you didn't say anything before now," Zartan said to me, casually shooting Mainframe while he spoke. Poor Mainframe fell out of his chair, landing on the ground in immediate unconsciousness. "Thought you might have been biding your time, but you really didn't see me, did you?"

I glared at him and suggested that he stick his gun somewhere uncomfortable.

Zartan laughed. "I don't think so. I think you're going to come with us. Storm Shadow's been missing you, Red," he told Scarlett. I was surprised by the look of rage that crossed her face.

"You aren't Miranov," I said to the woman holding a gun on us.

"Meet my sister," Zartan said proudly. "Zarana, this is Catrenski, the Joes' newest pain in the arse."

"It's Cheshire," I said coldly.

"Recruiting out of pre-school, are they?" Zarana asked, dropping Miranov's cultured tones.

"Your brother already made that joke, and it wasn't funny the first time," I told her.

Zarana scowled, and nodded at Zartan. "Shut her up, would you?"

There was a sting on the side of my neck, and I heard Scarlett say a very bad word. I agreed completely with her.


	8. Turning

**Disclaimer: **I do not own G. I. Joe, nor any trademark names in this story. I do own Megan Catrenski and any OCs that may appear, unless stated otherwise.

* * *

><p><strong>TURNING<strong>

I woke up in handcuffs, but it wasn't as fun as it sounded. We were all in a van, moving along the streets at a steady clip. The van jolted into a pothole, and the movement threw me to the side. I landed on what felt like Roadblock.

"You still asleep, Cheshire, or you just jumpin' on me for fun?"

"I'm awake," I mumbled, head still fuzzy. "Where is everyone?"

"We're here," Scarlett didn't sound much better than I did. Of course. Smaller body masses, slower to process the drug. Stupid muscly men. "You alright?"

"I'm awake." I pushed myself back upright and braced one leg against Roadblock so that I would stay that way. "Do we know where we're going?"

"No."

"Did you bring your lockpicks?"

"Of course I did. But Zarana made sure to take them."

I sat back and thought. "So... we're screwed."

"The others know we've been taken," Mainframe said. "I used Dermish's computer to send a ping their way."

"You can do that?" Scarlett asked, sounding impressed. "Good work, soldier."

"What did Zartan mean about Storm Shadow?" I asked.

"I may have bitten him once."

"Oh. Well, he probably won't remember."

Scarlett sighed. She was one of the Joes who hadn't thought much of my theory. She worried that I was leading Snake Eyes on. "Right, because he's brainwashed?"

"Is now really the time to start bickering about this again?" Mainframe demanded.

"We have nothing better to do," I said with a shrug.

"We have plenty of other things to talk about," Scarlett said sternly, remembering her role as ultimate leader. "What data did you get, Mainframe?"

"Dermish was working on a chemical trigger to cure mental illness and a nerve gas, but neither of them was working. That's the sum of my knowledge."

We all sat there in silence. That had been a bit of a fail.

"Why were Zartan and Zarana still there?" I asked out loud.

"Why didn't you realise?" Roadblock asked me.

"I told Hawk that last night may have been a fluke." I waited a few more minutes, then said, "Scarlett? Why did they kidnap us?"

"We'll be fine, Cheshire."

I bristled instantly. "I'm not scared, I'm honestly curious."

Before Scarlett could respond, the van slowed to a stop, and the doors were flung open. We sat there, blinking in the sudden light, until our newly-adjusted eyes showed us the dozen gun barrels pointing in our direction.

The situation really went downhill from there.

* * *

><p>They led us into a laboratory and made us kneel on the floor. They cuffed our hands to our ankles, and didn't move the guns an inch while they did it. Scarlett's face was almost the same colour as her hair. Not being nearly as curvy as she was, I hadn't been groped nearly as much, but there had been a few wandering hands all the same and I wasn't in a good mood either.<p>

"Maybe they're going to kill us with boredom," I said after a few minutes.

"Why the hell do you only get a big mouth when you're in trouble?" Scarlett demanded. "Usually we can't get two words out of you unless they're related to your work."

"This _is_ work," I told her. "See the Viper pointing his gun at Mainframe? He's gay. He's got a crush on the guy next to him. The guy next him hasn't taken his eyes of Zarana's ass since we got in here. He's as straight as they come. The guy–"

"He's ogling _Zarana?" _Scarlett asked, sounding scandalised. "God, what awful taste! Are you sure he's not gay too?"

Zarana stepped forward, grabbed her hair, and dragged her head back. "Keep it up, Red," she said, tracing a knife along Scarlett's jaw line. "I dare you."

"Zarana!" A voice called from the doorway. "Stop it, I need her!"

A bald guy with a monocle was standing there looking pissed off. "Dr Mindbender, I presume?" I asked. "Your help isn't house-trained. Just so you know."

The guy ignored me completely. "Zarana, release her."

Zarana waited a beat, to show she was doing this of her own free will, then let go of Scarlett's hair and stepped away, sheathing the knife. "Next time, Red." Then she turned on her heel and led all but four soldiers out of the room, fuming.

"Cow," I murmured.

"Shut the hell up, Cheshire," Scarlett ordered. Right, like she could criticise me for _my_ big mouth anymore. "Alright, Mindbender, go ahead and gloat."

"I don't think so, Scarlett," he said. "If you want information, you'll have to find out the old-fashioned way."

"Reading?" Roadblock said hopefully.

"_Participating,_" Mindbender said with relish. "I've been looking for test subjects. You'll do quite nicely."

"What exactly are we participating in?" I asked. "Nerve gas? No. Epigenetics? Chemical triggers... mental illness." The lack of hair made for great reading. This guy was like a book. I was almost enjoying myself. "Mental illness and a nerve gas equals...Mindcontrol? _Really_?"

Mindbender frowned at me. "I've heard of you, Miss Catrenski."

"It's _Cheshire_."

"You won't be participating. You'll get to watch your friends turn into mindless drones for Cobra. I hope you'll enjoy it."

"I thought you already had mind control technology," Scarlett objected.

I glanced at her, irritated. We were inches from death and she was still trying to prove me wrong about Storm Shadow. Then I saw Mindbender's face and began to laugh.

"Care to share?" Mainframe asked tightly, sounding very unamused.

"It's not working anymore," I told them. "Whatever they're using on the ninja, it isn't working. That's why he's not here. They're afraid they can't control him anymore."

"I think I've had about enough of Miss Catrenski," Mindbender said, turning to one Viper. "Get Dermish in here and tell him–"

I had heard enough. "Hey, Mindbender, aren't you scared?"

Mindbender paused. "Excuse me?"

"You're working with a really, really unstable ninja. You have to keep refreshing the mind-control. When he wakes up, you'll be the first he'll go after, right?"

Mindbender turned his back to me, but I could see a tiny quiver in his hand as he reached out to pick up a vial.

"And besides," I added, to mask the fact that Scarlett was still trying to manipulate the lock picks she had pick-pocketed from Zarana when the biker made the mistake of getting close enough, "It's not like you could stop him. What would you do, hit him with your diploma?"

"Very amusing," Mindbender said tightly. "I trust you'll be this cheerful when your friends are giving us the access codes to the Pit?"

"So Storm Shadow really did get brainwashed?" Roadblock asked, his deep rumble masking the tiny noises the lock picks made.

"Not my own invention," Mindbender agreed. "If it had been, I assure you, there wouldn't have been these... _issues_!"

"What went wrong?" Mainframe asked, with a certain amount of professional interest. "I mean, was it a medical fault, or was there some type of mechanical failure?"

"If there was a mechanical failure it wouldn't have worked at all and the good doctor here would be fertilising some rosebush somewhere," I told him. "I mean, imagine if someone tried and failed to wipe Snake's mind?" Scarlett pressed the picks into my hands. I had taken a few classes, but I still nearly dropped them twice.

Mainframe shuddered. "Hmm. Not pretty."

Scarlett twitched her foot, telling me to be ready to move. I inclined my head slightly and rambled on. "Mindbender, why did you grab Dermish? Did you need him?"

"He needed us, my dear _Cheshire_," he sneered. "We were the ones funding his research. He spent the past twenty years working for us, after the company trashed his research."

Scarlett twitched her foot again, once, twice, three times. I tensed, then shook off the manacles and lunged at the Viper nearest to me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Scarlett kick one guy so hard in the groin that I'm surprised all of his facial hair didn't fall out. Roadblock had actually _picked up_ two Vipers, but I didn't see what happened to them. I punched my Viper twice, once in the arm to make him drop the gun, once in the jaw, then kicked him in the face as he fell for good measure.

Mindbender was scuttling around at his bench like the cockroach he was, but oddly enough he wasn't going for any panic buttons. He was strapping some kind of breathing apparatus to his face. I felt my stomach drop.

"Scarlett!" I yelled. "He–"

Mindbender pressed a button, and a sudden hissing filled the room. I smelled chemicals, and began to cough desperately, but it was no good. I fell forwards, choking, my lungs burning. A crash told me Roadblock was down, a pair of lighter thumps a moment later said the same thing about Scarlett and Mainframe. I recognised this smell: Dermish had had it around him all the time. It was an airborne sedative.

I paused, thought for a moment, and then inhaled deeply.

Time passed. I wasn't sure how long. The moment I had stopped fighting the noxious gas, it had stopped bothering me, or maybe it was just my body remembering. Mindbender hadn't been lying; Dermish _was _working for Cobra. This was the gas he used to subdue unruly patients. I remembered it well.

I really had to do something about that man.

After a while, Mindbender pressed a button, and a troop of Vipers wearing the same gas masks as him entered the room. "Bring them to the lab," he ordered. "The other troops, as well."

One stepped forwards and picked me up, slinging me over his shoulder. With my face pressed to his back, I could just make out my teammates. They hadn't fared so well; I could see that Scarlett was definitely out for the count, and from the sounds of it, poor Roadblock was being dragged along.

We entered a laboratory, and were dumped unceremoniously on the ground. I lay there, limp, eyes half-open, taking in the room. In the middle of the floor was a machine, a huge metal monstrosity, all sleek lines and silver restraints.

Mindbender seemed to relax once we were in his space. He wandered over to the console and checked something, then wandered back to us and stood there for a moment, looking down at us. I didn't twitch, didn't move, barely breathed. After a very long second, he wandered away again. He was strangely aimless.

Then I heard footsteps and realised that he was waiting for someone. Then that someone entered the room, and I saw who.

Dermish.

The slimy son-of-a-bastard walked in, looking like he hadn't a care in the world. I was going to enjoy wiping the smug smirk of his face, preferably with one of Snake Eyes' most pointy weapons.

"What on earth happened here?" Dermish exclaimed, looking at us.

"One of the Joes picked the locks. I had to put them all to sleep. The Vipers who were in the room also." He sounded not as put out by that as I would have thought. Maybe he planned to involve the Vipers in his experiments now too.

"Well, mistakes do happen, my friend."

My friend. He called everyone my friend. 'Mistakes do happen, my friend.' 'I'm not angry, my friend, just disappointed.' 'Don't do that, Megan my friend, you'll regret it when I catch you.' I hadn't regretted it. I hadn't regretted anything, except perhaps letting him live. It had always been worth it.

I had to plan this carefully. I was in a room full of Vipers – though I was only worried about the conscious ones – and I wasn't armed. The first of those two obstacles took care of itself when Dermish said to the troops in his polite way, "Could you give us a few moments?"

They filed out obediently, and Dermish turned to Mindbender. "Doctor, I hope I can trust you to go through with our deal?"

"You can have her," Mindbender said, kicking my ankle lightly. "Three test subjects will do at this point."

"Excellent!" Dermish said, rubbing his hands. "Twenty years, but we'll get there yet, eh, Megan?"

It was a real mark of my self-control that I didn't even try and throttle him. Instead, I lay there, limp, unconscious, planning how I would kill him.

He turned away, and I watched him and Mindbender move to a bench, where they began discussing some chemical theorem. I raised my head and glanced left; nothing. I glanced right. Bingo. They had dumped a sedated Viper next to me, and there, on his belt? A gun.

I rolled over, pulled the gun, and then resumed my former position, carefully positioning the gun next to me where it couldn't be seen. I hadn't blacked out, but I was still weak from the air-borne toxin, and I didn't have a clear line of fire at them.

"Well," Dermish said clearly and suddenly. "Good luck with Joes, my friend, and good luck with whatever you turn to in the future. I doubt I'll be seeing you again after this. I'll just take Megan and toddle along, shall I?"

"Good luck," Mindbender snorted. "She_ is_ a Joe now, you know, Dermish."

"Oh?"

"Yes, she goes by the name Cheshire now. You'll have your hands full with her if she's anything like the others."

"I can handle Megan, doctor, but thank you for the advance warning."

I had heard enough. Shakiness notwithstanding, I rolled to my knees, lifted the gun and pointed it squarely at Dermish. "What were you saying about handling me?"

"Megan," Dermish began.

"_It's. Cheshire."_

"Cheshire, then," he said slowly. "You'd really shoot me?"

The gun was a Colt Anaconda. Too big for me. I needed both hands just to keep the damn thing upright. "In a heartbeat."

"So do it," he spread his arms. "Shoot me."

"No," I said. "The gunshot would bring the guards."

"So would me yelling for them."

"Yell for them and I'll have no reason not to shoot you."

"Stalemate," he observed.

"How long until my friends wake up?" I demanded.

"A few hours, certainly," Dermish said.

"You're lying."

"I am. I really don't know. Mindbender?"

"A few minutes," Mindbender said tersely. He wasn't lying.

"Good," I said. "Step away from the bench, and I won't shoot you." I was being very careful not to make any promises for the other Joes, of course. Scarlett in particular would take it very badly if I offered them immunity on her behalf.

Mindbender stepped away from the bench very slowly, raising his hands. Then he lunged for the bench and slammed his fist down on a button. A siren began wailing. I shot at him and missed. Dermish was already running. I jumped to my feet, danced sideways a few steps, shot at Dermish, and clipped him on the shoulder, but the scumbag didn't halt. I swore, turned to face Mindbender, and saw him haring out of the room. Suddenly, I was alone with the unconscious Joes.

I had to think fast. I had to decide if it would be worth it.

It would be.

"Scarlett," I said, dropping to my knees and shaking her vigorously. "Scarlett!"

She moaned, and her eyes opened slightly. "Cat?"

"Scarlett, listen." I slapped her across the face to get her attention. "Scarlett, I promise, no matter what you see, I'm not evil."

"What?" She was still out of it.

I sighed. "Never mind."

I left the gun within her reach, glanced at them all for the final time, and took off running.

I made my way up, guessing that Mindbender would have had a helipad up there for quick escapes. Sure enough, just as I burst through the doors, the final helicopter's blades began turning lazily.

I sprinted across the roof, blessing Beach Head for his sadistic PT. The helicopter lifted off the surface. I took a running leap and sailed through the door, landing in the middle of a group of Vipers.

There was only enough time for me to roll onto my back and yell, "I want to join Cobra!" before the butt of a rifle slammed into my temple and I blacked out.


	9. Interrogation

**Disclaimer: **I do not own G. I. Joe, nor any trademark names in this story. I do own Megan Catrenski and any OCs that may appear, unless stated otherwise.

* * *

><p><strong>INTERROGATION<strong>

"Megan."

I look up. The white room, the white man in his white clothes with his white hair. I look down. White clothes, white table, white hands.

"Megan, you were saying?" he prompts me.

"I – I don't remember," I whisper.

He sighs and makes a note on a white clipboard with a white pen.

"We were talking about Sergeant Hauser," he says in a patient voice. I hate him for it suddenly.

"Duke? He doesn't like me..." Why am I telling this to some stranger? "Where am I? Who are you?" My voice rises in fear.

The man looks to the side – but there's nobody there – and says in a mild tone, "A little more, I think."

Suddenly the fight goes out of me and I slump back in my chair. "I don't remember what we were talking about." _Is this what going crazy feels like?_

"The Joes. You were telling me about Duke."

"Duke doesn't like me."

"And the others?"

"Hawk does. He thinks I'm a good investment. Ripcord does. Heavy Duty does. Breaker thinks I'm creepy. Beach Head acts like he doesn't like me, he acts like he doesn't like anyone, and I can't tell if he's telling the truth, because I'm always so tired when I see him because... because..." I wrack my brains. "He does PT..."

"Yes, yes," the man says impatiently. "But do you like the Joes, Megan?"

"My head hurts," I say blankly.

"Tell me about the Joes, Megan. Do you feel loyalty towards them?"

"Why does my head hurt?"

"Answer me, Megan. _Are you loyal to the Joes_?"

"But–"

"Now!"

_It's easier to fight than give in don't give in fight but what am I fighting doctors are here to help me I need help just like my mother needed help hanging off a cliff hanging on by my fingertips slipping slipping letting go is this what going crazy feels like?_

"No. I just work there." _Landing on my feet, unharmed... nine lives and I just gave away my seventh._

"Alright," he says reasonably. "Keep telling me about the Joes. Why don't you like them?"

"It's just a job. I just needed somewhere interesting to work. I get bored really, really easily, and I thought that if I joined the military, I would be interested. But a lot of them... I don't like them, and they don't like me. Scarlett doesn't like me. Scarlett doesn't like me because I told her Snake Eyes scares me because I can't read him at all –"

I stop dead. _I can't read him at all_. I look at this man who I think is trying to help me, and an overwhelming terror fills me. His face, his empty face, his face without feelings, without cues, without words. His voice that speaks to me without once saying a thing.

"Megan?" He leans forwards, with his empty mask turned towards me, and I begin to scream. I leap to my feet and begin pounding on the door, screaming to be let out all the while.

The wall develops cracks, then suddenly dissolves around me in a wash of colour. My head turns from a dull ache to a stabbing pain. The man melts and fades away, and I am left in a kaleidoscope of sounds and images and feelings and _pain_, in my head, in my arms where they're being held down by metal bands and I've bruised them struggling to get free.

_Is this what going crazy feels like?_

I wake up completely, and I'm still screaming.

* * *

><p>The Interrogator watched the Joe slump forward in her chair, eyes wide, breathing heavily – panting, in fact.<p>

"That was very informative, thank you," he told her.

She snarled a suggestion that he was sure was both physically impossible and ethically unthinkable. "Get this shit out of me!" she added, her voice rising to a shriek as she saw the IV in her arm.

"Maybe later." The Interrogator rose to his feet and left the room, followed by a string of curses. Clearly the quiet, sweet-faced girl had put her time in the military to good use.

Cobra Commander was waiting for him. "Is this normal, Interrogator?" he asked, gesturing through the one-way window at the girl inside, hunched over, her arms restrained behind her with handcuffs.

"Any psychologist would tell you that there is no such thing as normal, Commander, especially when one is attempting to glean information through less orthodox methods." The Interrogator's baritone was slightly amused. "Not many people wake up halfway through the procedure, granted."

"And she's telling the truth?" the Commander asked.

"She feels no loyalty to the Joes," the Interrogator agreed. "I did not have a chance to ask her why she wants to join us, however."

"Well, perhaps you should do that," Cobra Commander said rudely.

The Interrogator inclined his head and re-entered the cell. The Joe called Cheshire had composed herself somewhat: her face was pale, but her features were still and calm, almost mask-like, in fact.

"You told the Vipers that you wished to become a member of Cobra. Why?"

"You've been working with a man who calls himself Dermish," Cheshire said tensely. "I want that man dead."

"You want us to kill him in exchange for service?"

"No, I want you to help me find him and then I want to kill him myself."

"Revenge is what motivates you?"

"It is."

"What did he do to you?"

Her eyes narrowed. "I must have missed the point in this conversation where that became any of your business."

"I could always ask less politely."

"Why bother? I want to join Cobra, I don't care about betraying the Joes... I know who you are, and you know that I'm not lying. Why do my motivations matter?"

"You're asking us to betray one of our own to you." The Interrogator leaned back.

"Dermish isn't one of your own," Cheshire said, tossing her head. "I was there when Mainframe cracked his hard-drive. I was there when he was talking to Mindbender. His research is a failure. He was lying to you people through his teeth. You must know that by now."

"That is true."

"So what's the problem? You want him dead too, and I'm volunteering."

"We may have taken him out already."

"Have you?"

"Let's discuss the terms you're suggesting first."

"No."

"No, you won't discuss this with me?"

"No, you haven't killed him yet. That's good. We can discuss anything you like."

"What did you have in mind when you suggested joining Cobra? What role would you fulfil?"

"I was thinking of something like yours, actually."

"You'd replace me?" The Interrogator was very amused.

"I thought we might be able to share," Cheshire said with a small smile. "Two interrogators are better than one, right? Besides,_ I _don't need high-tech to get answers."

"You could be a mole, of course. This could be a trap."

Cheshire sighed in exasperation. "Then it's the stupidest trap in history and I'm ashamed of myself for trying it. I knew when I jumped on your helicopter that you wouldn't believe me; I can completely appreciate that I probably won't get anywhere near Dermish for at least three years, until you've all decided you can trust me." She smiled a smile of pure ice. "That's fine. I've waited fifteen years, three more won't matter."

The door to the cell opened and Cobra Commander walked in. "You're right," he said with no preamble. "I don't trust you. Why should I?"

Cheshire cocked her head. "I have the codes to the Pit. Co-ordinates and floor plans, too."

"That's another matter entirely."

* * *

><p>Cheshire chewed her pencil and eyed the rough plan she had drawn thoughtfully. "That's about right," she said, looking up at Cobra Commander. They had uncuffed her so that she could sketch the Joes' base, but there were still three guns pointed right at her in the room. "Distances are only approximate. I never really took the time to pace them out."<p>

"This is a good start, but I remain... unconvinced," the Commander hissed at her.

Cheshire shrugged. "Your problem, not mine. I can only do what you ask to prove I'm not faking."

"The Interrogator has assured me of that, Miss Catrenski."

"Then what's the big dilemma? And it's Cheshire."

"Follow me," the Commander ordered.

Cheshire got to her feet and followed him out of the room, through a number of winding corridors. They entered an elevator, panelled in metal. Cheshire resisted the temptation for a moment, then shrugged and pressed her hand to the wall, leaving a set of prints on the gleaming surface. Nobody noticed.

The doors opened and they stepped out into a large room, the walls made of glass. Cheshire raised an eyebrow and walked over to the wall, apparently admiring the view. "We're on an island?"

She could see gleaming white beaches, azure seas, and dark tropical foliage beneath her. The skies were darkening quickly; she vaguely remembered something about the length of twilight being dictated by the location's proximity to the Equator.

"You have your own island?" she repeated, turning back to the Commander.

Storm Shadow appeared out of nowhere, kicking her legs out from under her and twisting her arms behind her back in a far more painful lock than any that the Joe ninjas had put her in. She knelt awkwardly, biting back a yell of pain.

"Yes," Cobra Commander agreed, drawing his sword. "I have my own island." He laid the tip to her throat. "Miss Catrenski, you've given me all the information you possess about the Joe base. Why should I not kill you now?"

"Because," Cheshire said quietly, "You want to use me against the Joes. You want to be able to wave me around in their faces and say, 'ha ha, I have what you used to have.' I would do the same. What's the point in beating someone if you can't gloat about it?"

The sword remained at her throat for a lot longer than she would have liked. Finally, the Commander barked a laugh and turned away, re-sheathing it. "That is true. Very astute, Miss Catrenski."

"Don't call me that."

"You expect us to believe that you betrayed the Joes when you continue to use the name they bestowed upon you?"

"Any name will do but Miss Catrenski. It sounds like some elderly Russian ballet teacher's name. I'll ditch Cheshire if it really bothers you that much." Cheshire glanced up at Storm Shadow. "You mind telling him he can let go now?"

Cobra Commander nodded at Storm Shadow. She sighed with relief and rubbed her elbows. "What name do you choose, then?" he hissed.

Cheshire thought for a moment. She had never had to worry about this before: when she was eleven, a smart-ass English teacher had nick-named her after a character in the book they had been studying, in some misguided attempt to make her, in the teacher's words, 'more accessible to the other children'; Cheshire had just recycled the name when she joined the Joes. Now... "Secret."

"Fitting," the Commander said. "Very fitting."

* * *

><p>One week later, I was going stir-crazy. My room at the Pit had been Spartan; this one was positively grim. I had been in there for days, leaving only in the middle of the night to filch food from the kitchens. The island was crawling with troops, and I was very, very wary of them. They were a bunch of immoral junkies and mercenaries whom I wouldn't trust to be around a fire, let alone around me.<p>

It was midnight; surely I'd be safe to get some exercise. I slipped out of my room, checked the corridors, and set off for the beach.

Storm Shadow had probably been told to follow me, but whatever. I wasn't doing anything. I just badly needed fresh air. He was welcome to tag along; fresh air never hurt anybody. So I didn't look around at all as I slid through the complex and out a side door.

The beach was beautiful, even in the moonlight. Maybe more so in the moonlight. Too bad it was already occupied. I emerged off the path and found myself confronted by six troopers, all ready and waiting for me. Clearly the crunching noise on the path had alerted them.

Fresh air never hurt anybody... I called myself an idiot and dropped into a defensive position, arms raised and ready. "Help you?" I asked insolently.

"So you're the Joe _bitch_," the leader said, drawing the word out, "who thinks she's one of us now?"

"If I thought I was remotely like any of you I'd have to shoot myself in the head for the good of humanity. Nobody deserves to have to look at something that ugly."

His face darkened, and he and his buddies stepped forwards. I didn't waste time; I kicked one in the gut, elbowed another in the nose, head-butted a third, and gave the fourth a black eye. All good shots, but none of them really devastating, and after all, there were six of them. Two grabbed me and dragged me backwards, off balance. I thrashed, making it as hard as I could for them. The leader stepped forwards me, and I kicked him square between the legs. He wouldn't be doing _anything_ to me tonight, except perhaps pounding me unconscious.

There was a metallic gleam and a shuriken appeared out of nowhere, taking one of the men holding me in the throat. The other let go of my arm and staggered back, gagging and clutching a small black spike sticking out of his arm. Then there was a shadow among the other troopers, one armed with a sword and a bow and apparently enough knives for four fully grown men.

I straightened my clothes, looked around at the carnage, and looked at Storm Shadow. I was right, he had been told to keep an eye on me. "Thanks," I said.

He inclined his head.

"Why are you out here?"

He turned away and didn't answer, collecting his knives from the corpses. Then he disappeared into the jungle with nary a rustle.

I looked at where he had been, then looked at the four bodies. I didn't feel bad about it, but I did feel stupid.

"I need a gun," I murmured to myself.

* * *

><p>"No," Destro said flatly, striding along the corridor.<p>

"But I almost got raped!" I was jogging to keep up with him. I had thought that Destro would be the most reasonable of the Cobra high command, since he was both the most intelligent and the only one with a steady girlfriend to mellow him out some, but apparently the stupid cueball hadn't gotten any loving in a while.

"You shouldn't have been out at night."

"No,_ you_ shouldn't hire a bunch of people with the kind of moral fibre jails appreciate."

"I didn't hire them, and you will not receive a weapon."

"I_ need_ one." I stepped in front of him. "Would you be saying this if the _Baroness _had been attacked?"

"You will not receive a gun." He ignored my argument completely and went around me.

"Then give me a knife. Something!" I stepped in front of him again. "Be reasonable, Destro. I'm a small female outnumbered one hundred to one by men. I'm not going to pick a fight with any of them, but I need to be able to defend myself."

He stared down at me for a moment. "Fine. There's a room on the second level containing bladed weapons. Take one from there."

"Thank you." I left quickly, before he could change his mind.

The room didn't _contain_ bladed weapons, it was crammed with them. I felt like a kid in a candy store. There were shuriken, daggers, long swords, short swords, flails... I laced my hands behind my back and began browsing.

I noticed Storm Shadow only when I had reached out to pick up a balisong. He was standing by the door, watching me.

"Do you mind?" I asked, gesturing at the knife. He didn't reply; I took that as consent. I reached out, picked it up and flipped it open a few times. It was a channel construction, stronger than the sandwich construction form, and made of high carbon steel.

"Nice," I said appreciatively, opening it one-handed and closing it again. "Seki City metal smiths?"

"Yes," he said.

I glanced at him. He was still standing there, and despite the weapons, scars and muscles, he looked like a little lost child. Beneath the blank expression, I could see confusion.

I didn't want to go back into the fortress. I was in danger there. Ever since the troops died, the others had been giving me dirty looks. It was only a matter of time before something boiled over. And despite the obvious instability of the ninja, I felt safe around Storm Shadow.

"Can I stay here?" I asked him.

There was silence for a long, long time. Then he turned away. I didn't see any hostile emotions in his face; I decided to take that as a 'yes'.

* * *

><p>"What the hell are you doing here?"<p>

"Doctor Mindbender. Didn't they tell you that I switched sides?"

"I mean here in the dojo." He crossed his arms and looked at me angrily. "You shouldn't be here."

I shrugged. "Destro seems to think I'm allowed in here. Besides, no troops come in here."

"Yes, I heard what you did to the guards."

"He did it." I pointed at Storm Shadow. He had been meditating while I worked on my kata. "Why are _you_ here?"

He didn't respond, but his eyes flicked towards Storm Shadow and his brow creased just a little bit.

I caught his attention and rubbed the side of my face, like I was wiping something away. He nodded tersely.

"Storm Shadow! Come with me," he ordered. Storm Shadow got to his feet like an obedient little assassin and followed him out of the room, not looking back.

I watched them go with a blank expression of my own.

* * *

><p>Two months later...<p>

"So, Secret."

I should have chosen a different name. Listening to Cobra Commander address me was making me want to gouge my eardrums out.

"Sir?"

"We have an assignment for you. A way to prove your loyalty." He showed me a picture of a man. "Storm Shadow and Zartan will escort you to his house. You will ask him about his debts to me. You'll tell them if he has the money or not."

I didn't ask what would happen to the man afterwards if he didn't have the money. I could guess.

"Sir." I accepted the photograph and memorised the face. A seedy-looking man in his forties, balding, wearing a wife-beater shirt and shorts. A lifetime of booze and bad food, trapped into a tiny photograph.

Collateral damage.


	10. Collateral Damage

**Disclaimer: **I do not own G. I. Joe, nor any trademark names in this story. I do own Megan Catrenski (Cheshire/ Secret) and any OCs that may appear, unless stated otherwise.

**Author's note: I'm about to play merry hell with canon and character development, so if you're a purist/ obsessive, you've been warned. Feel free to flame me if it makes you happy; I'll probably just ignore it.**

**COLLATERAL DAMAGE**

We arrived at the house at four in the morning.

"Best time to attack," Zartan said to me. "Russians proved it. Humans' awareness is low–"

"You're mistaking me for someone who cares," I said softly, sliding out of the car. Storm Shadow had sat in the back seat, which I thought was pretty endearing. Now he got out of the car silently. Mindbender had really done a number on him this time. It was like working with a robot.

"Is he stable enough to leave the island?" I asked Zartan, jerking my head at the ninja.

Zartan shrugged.

"Great."

The guy who owed Cobra the money was living in a beat-up little house on the outskirts of Vegas. Zartan and I leaned against the car, not worried about being spotted: the neighbourhood was dead at this time of night. There weren't even any dogs barking. Storm Shadow had disappeared.

The door to the house opened slightly. "Show time," Zartan grunted, straightening his cowl. I couldn't help it; I smoothed my clothes as well and ran a hand through my hair, spiking it. It was short again, blood-red this time, and I had all my piercings in. I knew I couldn't compare to Storm Shadow or Zartan in terms of scary, but I was hoping I at least didn't look like I should be in high school.

Storm Shadow had the guy pinned to the wall when we strolled into the kitchen. His knife was pressed to his throat, there was a gun on the floor, and from the looks of his wrist and the way it was bent double in the wrong direction, the dude had tried to shoot Storm Shadow. Judging from the hue of his face, he wouldn't have long to regret that mistake if Storm didn't let up.

"You'll have to put him down," I said mildly. "I need to talk to him."

Storm Shadow dropped the man like a sack of potatoes, and I knelt in front of him. "Guess who sent us?"

"Oh god oh god oh god–"

"Not even close. You owe somebody money, don't you?"

"You want the money?" he croaked. "I swear I'll get it, I swear, just give me some time."

"You've had three months," Zartan growled. "You could have made twice what you owe us in three months."

"He has," I told him. "What happened, big guy? Bought your girlfriend a present?" Negative. "Got a drug habit?" Negative, but closer. "You're a dealer, aren't you?" Bingo. "Don't dealers _make _money? What did you spend it all on?"

"Paying off the cops," Zartan guessed. "Or the judges."

"Or getting rid of them," I said with narrowed eyes, watching the dealer's face. "I'm right, aren't I? You used Cobra's money on a _hit man_? Idiot."

"There was a cop," the dealer said pathetically. "He was going to arrest me, I had to. Just give me a week," he babbled on, his eyes huge with fear. "A week, just a week, I can get you what you need."

"We don't need the money, our boss _wants_ the money," Zartan said, pulling a knife and inspecting it. "Can he get us the money, Secret?"

"If we gave you a week, could you cough up?" I asked him. Negative. "Nope, he needs more than a week. Two? A month?" Bingo. "Think the boss wants to wait a month, Zartan?"

"Doubt it," Zartan said with an unpleasant smile. "Storm Shadow?"

I got to my feet and stepped aside, not looking back. There was a noise like a meat cleaver biting into a side of roast beef, and a slight gurgle, but otherwise nothing much. Zartan fell into step with me as we left the house and slid back into the car. "Well, that didn't take long," I said laconically to him. "I got all dressed up for nothing."

We sat there, waiting for Storm Shadow. There was a flicker of light in the window and the ninja emerged, leaving the door open behind him. Smoke was already curling out of the house.

"What now?" I asked. "Back to the Island?"

"The Commander wants you to stay with the Dreadnocks," Zartan told me. "We're dropping the ninja at the airport and going to Florida."

"I hate Florida. And I think your sister hates me." I was actually sure Zarana hated me. The Commander had assigned me duties that basically amounted to being the Baroness and Destro's gopher around the island – and being under their suspicious eyes constantly - so I had only run into Zarana briefly, but those encounters had been enough to make me certain that she'd enjoy giving me a few extra, more fatal, piercings.

Storm Shadow got into the car, closing the door behind him. "You alright?" I said casually over my shoulder to him.

"Yes. Are you?"

This was the first initiative he had shown in a month. I tamped down my joy and shrugged. "One less dealing murdering scum can never be a bad thing."

Zartan glanced sideways at me, shimmering into the guise of a mild-looking middle-aged man with glasses. "Maybe we should have made _you_ take him out. You still planning on shooting Dermish when you find him?"

"No," I said, looking out the window. "I plan on tearing him apart with my hands."

That didn't kill the conversation – I was riding with Storm Shadow and Zartan, they couldn't have cared less – but it did mean that there was nothing left to say. We left Storm Shadow at the back fence of the airport and I climbed into the back seat, stretched out and fell asleep.

When I woke up, we were not in Florida.

"Are we in DC?" I asked blearily, sitting up. "Should've turned left at Albuquerque, Zartan."

"Funny. We're rendezvousing with the Dreadnoks here. The Commander doesn't trust you."

"How come?" I rubbed my eyes.

"The Joes have been issued with orders not to kill you if they see you at any of our bases."

"So what? I disappeared during a hostage situation three months ago, I haven't blown anything up yet... did you think I'd automatically get put on their hit list?"

"Whatever. You're with us for now."

He drove down an alley and into a warehouse. Inside were a group of people, wearing leather, patches and dirt like badges of honour, who all stirred at the sight of their leader, then stirred again when they saw me.

I followed Zartan, my face blank, ready to pull the butterfly knife from my boot if I needed to. The bikers were watching me with ugly expressions that did nothing to improve their faces.

"Alright, settle down," Zartan ordered. I was impressed: they all looked at him immediately, though a few eyes strayed back to me, leaning against the wall. "We know why we're here." He looked at me suddenly. "Want to guess, Secret?"

I looked around. "Motorcycles, Molotov cocktails, rocket-launcher... I'm going to go out on a limb and say you're the distractions. Looks like it'll be fun. Can I play?"

A ripple of rough laughter rolled around the room. "No," Zartan said flatly. "You and Zanya are staying here to sanitise the place."

I pouted and leaned back. The other girl he had indicated was doing much the same. I glanced at her, did a double-take. She looked eerily familiar.

Fifteen minutes later, the bikers rolled out of the warehouse. I stretched and walked over to Zanya. "So, got any matches?"

She glared at me. "Don't talk to me, Joe."

"It's Secret. And I'm not a Joe anymore."

"Once a Joe, always a Joe." She stepped towards me. I was twenty-five, she was maybe sixteen, but she was _still_ taller than me.

"Holy shit, you're Zartan's daughter, aren't you?" I cocked my head, looking at her closely. "Wow. You turned out pretty well, considering the pond scum on your gene pool."

She drew her fist back to punch me. I ducked to the side, pulled my butterfly knife and flipped it open, making sure she could see it. Storm Shadow had spent the better part of three months teaching me to use it. If I had to go up against anyone with ninja training, I was screwed – though that was what most people would say, I suppose - but I could bluff with the best of them, and maybe even hold my own in a fight. "You could beat me to a pulp and I could slice your throat," I said calmly. "I don't care either way, but the last thing I need right now is to be running from Zartan _and _the Joes. So let's just agree to disagree."

"Why the hell should I?" she demanded, face red.

"Because you've been told to leave me alone and I haven't." I smiled at her. "You'd really cross Daddy for a fight you might not win?"

She glared at me, then jerked her head at a can of petrol sitting on its own. "You can start with the petrol, _I'm_ lighting this place up."

I made a face at her back and picked up a petrol can, sloshing the liquid around, wrinkling my nose at the fumes.

"They reckon you want to take out Dermish," Zanya called from the other end of the warehouse.

"They reckon right." I set the can down in the middle of the floor and jogged over to the door with her. She lit a match and flicked it into the room. A flame burst to life instantly, and we beat a quick retreat down the alley.

"Why?" Zanya asked bluntly.

"That's nobody's business but mine," I said shortly.

"What did he do to piss you off?"

"What part of 'not your business' was so hard for you to–"

If we hadn't been talking, we might not have been surprised, but the stupid idiot – and I do blame Zanya for this still – had irritated me enough that I didn't notice the cops until they stepped out in front of us, holding their guns, yelling at us to freeze.

We both stopped. "Pretend to be drunk," I whispered to Zanya, my lips not moving. "Boys," I said, pitching my voice an octave higher and wobbling a little. "How _you_ doin'?"

"Ma'am, I'm going to–"

"Ohmigosh he just said _ma'am_," I shrieked, turning to Zanya. "They're so _cute_!"

"There's a building on fire two streets away, ma'am, do you know anything about that?" the other asked harshly.

"It's like good cop bad cop sexy cop," Zanya said, doing a decent job at sounding wasted. She probably had real-life experience to draw off. "Wait, too many cops..."

"What do you two know about the fire?" The first cop sounded like he was about to use the gun on himself.

"We didn't start the fire," I sang (terribly). "It was always burning, since the world's been turning. We didn't start the fire, but when we are gone–"

I pretended to stumble against Zanya, and sat down on the floor. "Wow," I said, looking around. "When did everyone get so big?" My hand slipped into my boot as I spoke. I grabbed Zanya as if to pull myself to my feet with one hand, squeezed her wrist, then, with the other hand, I launched myself at the furthest cop, trusting to Zanya to take out the nearest.

I was fast. Everyone had said it. I was fast enough to take out some dozy cop who thought he was dealing with two drunken hookers, that's for sure. A quick sucker-punch to the forehead, and he fell backwards like a discarded coat. I bent and retrieved the cop's gun, checked it was loaded and looked around, in time to wince as Zanya elbowed the guy in the solar plexus and finished it off with a soccer-style kick to the head.

"Nice throw," she said grudgingly to me.

"Thanks. We should–"

"Freeze!"

"Oh for chrissakes," I sighed. I recognised_ that_ voice. I didn't remember breaking a mirror that day, but I must have at some point in the last seven years, because when I turned around I was staring down Beach Head's gun-barrel. Scarlett was right behind him.

"Freeze," he repeated. "Ah don't want ta shoot ya, but Ah will."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. The alley was dark and the light was at my back; I was wearing a short skirt, singlet top and my hair was a different colour and cut. Hopefully, he wouldn't recognise me until too late.

I stepped forwards, hiding the gun down by my leg. "Hey, Beach. What's up?"

He didn't lower his gun on purpose, but the barrel dropped slightly and his eyes went wide behind the balaclava. "Cheshire?"

I whipped the cop's gun up and shot him twice in the chest, the sounds rolling around the alley. The impact threw him against the wall. "The one and only."

"Beach Head!" Scarlett screamed. She didn't even bother pulling her gun; she just sprang forwards and tackled me.

She was heavier, and I couldn't shake her off as she fastened her hands single-mindedly around my throat. I went for her eyes, gouging long scratches into her face, pummelling her, even grabbing her ponytail and dragging it to the side with all my strength, but it was no use; she was still heavier and her hands were still around my throat.

Suddenly she grunted and collapsed on top of me. I wriggled out from under her to see Zanya, looking very pleased with herself. From the way she was standing, I guessed she had pulled off another kick.

"Thanks," I wheezed. "We need to go, before she comes to."

I dropped the gun and followed Zanya down the alley. She sprinted out of the alley, onto the street, and slid into an unlocked, unmarked van. I leaped into the passenger seat, and she took off with a screech of burning rubber.

"You just shot him," she said slowly.

"Well noticed," I replied waspishly, buckling my seat belt. "Shit, I left the gun. My prints will be all over it." I sighed and leaned back. "Where are we going?"

"We need to rendezvous with Zartan," Zanya said. "If the Joes are here–"

"Why _are_ the Joes here?" I asked. "What were the Dreadnoks cannon fodders for this time?"

She looked at me sideways. "Cobra's trying to grab a new military invention," she said shortly.

"And they thought the Joes would be dumb enough to get distracted by the pretty lights and colours?" I snorted. "They probably went after the Dreadnoks and told Snake Eyes to sit on the tech. Who's your money on, between him and Storm Shadow?"

Her fingers tensed on the wheel. "How did you know Storm Shadow was here?"

I sighed. "Your dad's not that great a liar. Not to me."

She pulled into a dark parking lot and killed the lights. I glanced at her sideways; she was worried. "I can't believe you and Zartan actually like each other," I said. "It's just weird. I mean, for the big bad biker to have a kid he actually likes? Weird."

"I can pull my own weight," she said defiantly, with a hint of pride. "I'm not just along for the ride."

"How'd _Zarana _take it?"

A gleam of teeth: she was grinning. "Pink-haired bitch."

"Sums her up, doesn't it?"

I felt Zanya relax beside me. "You're alright, Secret. For a Joe."

"Ex-Joe," I corrected her. "Especially after tonight. Maybe I can say I got wiped if I get arrested. Do you know how Mindbender's machine works?"

"The Scanner? Nah. It hurts, I think. Otherwise, I dunno."

"So, your dad," I said, relaxing back on the seat. "How'd he get involved in Cobra? Honestly, he seems pretty smart. I would have thought he'd realise Cobra is a train-wreck waiting for a cliff to fall off."

Zanya was grinning. "What've you heard?"

"I heard that he tried to kill Storm Shadow." I rolled my eyes to show her how little I believed this rumour. I really didn't. Zartan was certainly smart enough to know that if he was going to take out a contract against a ninja, he'd better damn well follow through on the first attempt, because the chances of him getting a second one were slim to none. There was definitely some connection with Storm Shadow, though: Zartan always had a certain look in his eyes around the ninja that I just couldn't quite place.

"That's actually sort of what happened. Dad used to be a hitman," Zanya said casually. "This other guy, Firefly? He got hired by the Commander to take out some American grunt training with Storm Shadow's family. You know ninja clans still exist? Storm Shadow's used to be the best. Dad infiltrated it as a sword-smith or whatever, he stayed undercover for ages until he got ordered to carry out the hit. He was given some high-tech piece-of-shit invention so that he could pull it off from a distance, but something went wrong with the tech, and he got Storm Shadow's uncle by mistake."

"Ouch," I winced. "That's why I prefer a knife."

"Yeah, Cobra technology sucks balls. Anyway, Storm Shadow saw the Cobra chopper, but then the idiot tried to chase it, so he made it look like he had killed his own uncle. Then he tried to infiltrate Cobra, but the Commander caught him and Mindbender washed him." Zanya shrugged. "Guess he figured a ninja would make a good bodyguard."

"Best idea he ever had, you ask me. Heads up," I said suddenly, spotting a clump of fast-moving figures. Zanya switched the engine back on as Zartan pulled the doors open and the Dreadnoks piled into the back of the van.

"What happened?" Zanya asked, pulling out of the lot as quickly as she had driven away from the alley. A flurry of curses floated forwards from the back of the van as numerous Dreadnoks lost their balance and fell into each other. Zartan, kneeling behind us, didn't even sway.

"Bloody ninjas," he said in response. "There's more than just Snake Eyes, you know that? Two others."

"Jinx and Kamakura," I said absently. "How'd they do?"

"Bloody ninjas," he said darkly. I didn't press the issue.

We drove for an hour, until we reached another warehouse. "If we have to burn this one down," I said to Zanya, getting out of the truck, "it's my turn to light the match."

She laughed, and Zartan shot us a surprised look. "She's cool, Dad," Zanya said, catching it. "She shot a Joe."

I waved a hand dismissively. "Zanya kicked one in the head too, you know."

"Good work," a Dreadnok said approvingly, passing us. Zanya swelled with pride.

"Where?" Zartan demanded.

"In the head."

"No, where did you shoot them?"

"Double-tap to the chest with a cop's gun," I said smugly. "He isn't getting up from it. It was Beach Head, too."

Zartan looked at me appraisingly. "Good work," he echoed.

"Thanks." I met his eyes, and smiled. "Think now people will start trusting me?"

"Maybe," he said warily.

I shrugged. "Good enough." Even though apparently this warehouse wasn't to be torched, it hadn't been a complete waste of an evening. I had gotten some very, very interesting ideas.

"We want Storm Shadow to train you," the Commander told me, leaning back in his chair.

I was in front of his desk, feeling like a naughty schoolchild defending herself to the principal. "Why, sir?"

"I've seen Zanya's report. The Joe was wiping the floor with you. You're useless in a fight."

That was a bit harsh. I mean, I had been fighting _Scarlett. _"I want to know how to fight without guns. I started learning with the Joe ninjas; I want to keep learning now. But honestly... is Storm Shadow actually mentally capable of teaching?"

"Unless you decided to turn against me after all, I don't see the problem," Cobra Commander mused.

"I just shot the Joe's drill master. I'm not going anywhere now. And I really don't like being bored, but again, _can_ he teach me?"

"However he does it, he'll get it done," the Commander said dismissively.

Well, _that _was hardly reassuring. "Yes sir," I said with a sigh.

Cobra Commander waved his hand in dismissal. "Go."

As I left the room, I pondered what this meant. The Commander had a plan. He was going to use me somehow, but he needed me to be able to fight first. This was... worrying.

* * *

><p>A month passed, and nothing happened. Storm Shadow was a less polished coach than Snake Eyes, but at the same time, he was much, much better. Maybe it helped that I could read his face; I didn't know. It was sad, really: beneath the brainwashing, I could tell that he actually enjoyed teaching.<p>

Time passed, until one day, I was training alone in the dojo when the Commander called me into the control centre.

"We have just received these pictures from our agents in New York," he hissed, throwing a sheath of paper at my head. "Explain them!"

"It's Snake Eyes and Scarlett," I said, shrugging. "Guess Zanya's kick isn't as good as she thinks it is."

"And the man next to them?" He was practically spitting with rage.

I looked obediently, then peered more closely. "Son of a bastard!" I gasped. Right next to them, large as life, was Beach Head himself.

"And how do you explain that?" Cobra Commander snarled. "You shot him, didn't you?"

"He was probably wearing armour," I sighed. "That or his muscles can actually deflect bullets. Damn it."

"I'm beginning to doubt your veracity, Secret."

"Zanya saw me shoot Beach Head, twice, in the chest. Do you think she's lying too? If my aim was a little less terrible, I'd have tried for his head, but I thought my chances were better with a bigger target." I shook my own head in disgust. "God... he probably wears a Kevlar _balaclava_ in the field. The man really is bulletproof."

Apparently I was convincing, because Cobra Commander's ruffled feathers settled down almost visibly. He laced his hands behind his back and turned away, presenting me with a target that would have made any hardened assassin drool. I didn't even flinch. After a few moments he turned back and said, "I am sending you and Storm Shadow to the Silent Castle."

"The _what_ castle?" I spluttered before I could help myself. "Sorry, sir," I said, completely straight-faced, as the Commander whirled on me. "It's an excellent name. Continue."

He turned away, much more slowly, and continued. "You and the ninja will travel to the Silent Castle." I bit my tongue, hard, to keep from snickering. "Mindbender and Destro are working on a project there. A new Battle Android Trooper. You will aid them."

I cocked my head. "Robots don't have faces."

He waved his hand. "That's not why they need you. You'll find out when you get there. You leave tomorrow."

I decided to do the obvious thing for once. "Not today, sir?"

"No, not today. You see, today is the day that Storm Shadow will kill General Hawk."


	11. Crunch Time

**Disclaimer: **I do not own G. I. Joe, nor any trademark names in this story. I do own Megan Catrenski (Cheshire/ Secret) and any OCs that may appear, unless stated otherwise.

**Thanks to Karama9, willwrite4fics and Card Carrying Villains for pointing out things that I hadn't even noticed. For the record, I will never, ever, ever in my life object if anyone reviews my stories just to point out mistakes. I'd much rather fix them than not even realise they were there. Seriously, guys... THANK YOU!**

* * *

><p><strong>CRUNCH TIME<strong>

I raised an eyebrow. "Storm Shadow's killing Hawk today, you said?" _Shit shit shit shit..._

"Oh yes," the Commander said gleefully. "In fact, I think..." He checked a clock on the wall. "I think he'll do it in an hour."

I took a deep breath. "Sir, are you sure that's a good idea? I mean, the Joes won't like it." Holy understatement, Snake Man!

"Of course they won't, but with their leader dead, there'll be chaos," the Commander told me. "Cut the head off the Joes and the body dies too."

I was tempted to correct the saying, but sensed somehow that it would be tactless to tell him the word was really 'snake.' "All due respect, sir, but there are two options here. The body dies, or the body arms itself and sets out for blood, with nobody in command whom they respect enough to listen to when told not to call in an airstrike on this island."

"The Joes are military, and there are procedures for this type of thing," the Commander said confidently. "They'll be crippled for months."

I looked at him, wondering how someone this stupid was still such a threat. "Sir, the Joes are _barely _military. They're the biggest bunch of mavericks I've ever met. Insanity coupled with a healthy disregard for protocol is one of the boxes that have to be ticked on the application for recruits to even be considered. I really, _really_ think this is a mistake."

"That's what Storm Shadow said about you, Secret," the Commander said smugly. "I proved him wrong, and I'll do the same to you. Pack your bags. You leave tomorrow."

I gave a jerky half-bow. "Yes sir."

This had gone on long enough. It had to end. Much as I disliked it, it was crunch time.

* * *

><p>Storm Shadow and I were silent on the ride to Trans-Carpathia the next day. I was plotting, and he was sulking.<p>

He had failed. Dumb luck was with the Joes again. Unbelievably, Hawk had _sneezed. _He had _sneezed_, and Storm Shadow's bullet had grazed his skull instead of going straight through. I could still barely believe it. I mean, really, what were the chances?

The plane was cushy enough, certainly. I stretched back in my seat and stared at the ceiling, thinking my plan through. I couldn't see any holes, but that didn't mean none existed.

"What are you thinking about?" Storm Shadow asked suddenly.

I sat up and looked at him. "Nothing. What are you thinking about?"

He pressed his fingers to his temples and shook his head. "I... I don't know. There's... My..." His face creased with pain and fear, and I wondered again how badly the mind-control was failing. Badly enough that Mindbender had had to reach out to Dermish, but not badly enough that Storm Shadow couldn't be sent on missions. Then again...

"Storm Shadow," I said slowly. "Do you remember yesterday?"

A flash of acknowledgment.

"You missed the general. You have the best aim I've ever seen–" except, _perhaps_, for Snake Eyes, who was beyond a goddamned surgeon with those Uzis of his, and even then I wouldn't put money on it "– and you still missed."

"I remember," he agreed shortly. He didn't like to be reminded of his failure.

"That wasn't on purpose, was it?"

The next instant, I had a knife to my throat. "Are you questioning my loyalty?" he snarled at me.

I kept calm, though from what I knew of his hearing, he could tell from my heartbeat how scared I was. "Yes. I have to. Who watches the watchers? I want to make sure you're on the right side. It's what the Commander hired me for, remember?"

He relaxed slightly, and finally let go of me completely. "I did not miss on purpose," he snarled, sheathing the knife. "Question my loyalty again and I will not be so forgiving."

"Alright, you've convinced me," I agreed, lowering my voice so the pilot couldn't hear me. "But Mindbender hasn't convinced the Commander." Storm Shadow's eyes widened and he leaned forwards. "The Commander thinks the Doctor is plotting against him," I whispered. "He wants us to get a copy of the files at the castle." I slipped my hand into my pocket and pulled out a small flash drive. "Can you do that? I have to investigate the rest of the castle, and I can't get into the main laboratory. So you get the files as soon as possible, and I'll take care of the rest of the castle, alright?"

Storm Shadow nodded, accepting the drive. Poor dumb brainwashed bastard. I felt a little guilty for using him like this, but I squashed it instantly. He would live.

I hoped.

* * *

><p>Mindbender and Destro were waiting for us. They were excited about something, that much was clear. Before I had even had a chance to say hello, my bag had been yanked from my hands and I was being ushered into a small laboratory.<p>

"Why am I here?" I said finally in a break between their excited chattering. "I can't read robots."

"Yes, but you can teach them how to read _us_," Destro said. He was like a kid on Christmas Eve. Did they have Christmas in Scotland? "You can predict peoples' movement through their physical tells, yes?"

"Yes," I agreed. It was what had kept me from being flattened in sparring several times. "But I don't–"

"There must be _something _that you can program the robots to look for," Mindbender said impatiently. "This would make them _unbeatable_, Secret!"

"Unless they had to go up against a ninja," I pointed out reasonably. "Not even I can read them." Most of the time...

Mindbender waved that away. "You're just a human."

I'm just the human who's teaching your damned robots to fight, I thought, irritated.

"The BATs will be far faster and more efficient," Mindbender continued. "We just need you to lay the foundations."

"Alright," I agreed, massaging away a migraine. "Show me how to do this."

I had thought it would be a total waste of time, but it actually was quite effective. Mindbender had produced some sort of helmet thing that I was meant to wear. I had flat-out refused until he had sworn up, down and sideways that there was no way for him and Destro to use it to control me. Then they had calibrated the BAT's brain to be in synch with mine, and I had been shown a series of photos. I didn't have a clue how they had done it, but somehow, the robot actually _had _managed to record my analysis of each picture. Destro and Mindbender both were of the opinion that with enough sessions, it would have enough information to pose a real threat to any poor soul who had to face it in hand to hand combat.

I had to act.

I eventually pleaded exhaustion and made my way to my room. Storm Shadow was waiting there for me, perched in a meditative pose on my bed.

"I have the files," he said, tossing the drive to me. I caught it and tucked it into my pocket.

"Good work," I told him. "Now, listen. You need to get to the roof and stay there."

He didn't move. I tried not to roll my eyes. "I'm passing on Cobra Commander's orders here, Storm Shadow. He wants you to go to the helipad and stay there until I come and get you. Got it?"

Storm Shadow didn't react for long enough to make me nervous, and then finally, he nodded. "Yes."

"Off you go, then," I said, my eyes straying towards my bag.

He left the room, and I immediately dived for my bag. They hadn't checked it, the slack idiots; if they had, the first thing they would have noticed would have been the two bricks of C4 I had tucked into the false bottom.

* * *

><p>Three hours later, I was making my way to the roof. My mood was so good I was almost whistling. That didn't last long; a moment after I stepped out the door, I got slammed to the ground and had a knife pressed to my throat.<p>

"You lied to me," Storm Shadow snarled. "What were you really doing?"

"Let me up and I'll show you," I croaked.

He actually did it. I rolled to my feet, pulled out the detonator, held it up, and pressed the button.

The roof rocked beneath us as the bombs triggered a series of chain reactions in the castle. Storm Shadow swayed slightly, and drew his arm back to hurl the knife at me as I scurried backwards.

"Why'd you join Cobra, Tommy?" I yelled, to distract him.

He looked at me, shocked, stunned into stillness by the use of his name. I threw the detonator at his head. He caught it easily, but I had time to skip behind a nearby gargoyle.

"Stupid ninja," I growled to myself. "Stupid ninja and their stupid perfect reflexes..."

Suddenly everything happened at once. The door to the roof flung open and the Baroness staggered into sight. She saw Storm Shadow, clutching the detonator; she didn't see me, tucked behind my gargoyle.

She pulled a gun, took aim, and shot Storm Shadow in the chest.

* * *

><p>I watched in stony silence as he fell and the Baroness turned to the troops behind her. "Prepare for evacuation, now!" she ordered. They immediately ran for the nearest helicopters.<p>

"Baroness!" a familiar voice yelled over the noise of a not-so-Silent-anymore Castle. Mindbender wriggled his way through the stampeding troops. "Baroness," he panted. "Help me with the body."

"Why do you want it?" the Baroness demanded.

_Damn good question,_ I thought darkly.

"We don't have time." Mindbender staggered. "Help me get it into my chopper."

The Baroness clicked her fingers at two guards. "You two. Help the Doctor." She turned back to Mindbender, added, "I hope you have several very good explanations prepared for the Commander, Doctor. For your sake, not mine."

I stopped listening at this point, because in the background I could see two soldiers loading Storm Shadow's body onto an empty helicopter. They were moving a lot more quickly than the usual sluggish pace; I suppose being on top of an ancient exploding shrapnel-heap would speed you up slightly.

I was still faster, though.

I braced myself against the gargoyle, took a deep breath, and exploded out of concealment. The Baroness and Mindbender were too busy bickering still to look in my direction, and from five metres away they couldn't hear me running over the din. None of the troops even registered me: none of them knew that I was the one behind this. Sometimes being below everyone's line of sight had its advantages. I sprinted up to Mindbender's otherwise-empty helicopter, slid in, and pressed the blade of my butterfly knife to the pilot's neck.

"Two choices," I told him. "You fly away now, or I cut your spinal cord and leave you paralysed. If you don't bleed out, of course."

The guy knew I wasn't kidding. The rotors purred to life, and we lifted smoothly away from the Silent Castle.

It was always a stupid name.

* * *

><p>I sat in the emergency room and considered my options.<p>

For once in my life, I couldn't just leave. I could have walked out of the Joes if I had really wanted to. I could have cancelled the Cobra mission at any moment and Hawk wouldn't have held it against me. He had made it clear, when I had rung him six months ago from the lab, that this was my show. In fact, he had wanted nothing to do with it, but he had realised I hadn't been kidding when I had told him there was an opportunity here that I wasn't going to miss. He hadn't realised Dermish was my target; I hadn't realised it would be so hard to get to the slimy bastard.

I had information. I had useful information. I could call it off now and still have it be worth the time. Another life spent. Before Dermish, after, as a member of the Joes, then as a Cobra agent; if I really possessed nine lives, I had five left to spare.

I couldn't just abandon Storm Shadow. He was in the deepest coma any of these doctors had ever seen. They had thought he was dead when he came in. It was beyond a miracle that he was even alive. He was helpless, and it was entirely my fault. I still needed something to tell the cops when they got here.

The Scanner was gone. That had been the target of my first C4 brick. I take attempts to control people's minds very, very personally, and I hadn't been about to let Mindbender slide on this one.

There was still Dermish, as he was calling himself now. I smiled coldly to myself. There was a debt to be paid there, and I intended to take it out in blood.

The Joes. I reached up, unclipped my largest earring and looked at it critically. It was a gaudy diamond stud, completely not my style, but still the smallest beacon Breaker had managed to engineer. It wasn't transmitting continuously; Cobra would have picked it up in a heartbeat if it had been. I had to turn it on for a signal to be sent. Scarlett had gotten it into my pocket, along with instructions, when she had tackled me in the alleyway.

I sighed and rubbed my forehead. This was why I maintained distance between myself and the world around me; this was why I hadn't had a relationship with anyone since I was ten. I liked the Joes well enough, but I could live without them. I liked Storm Shadow, but he couldn't live without me, quite literally. I owed him. It was my fault he was in this situation.

Swearing lightly to myself, I turned the beacon on.

* * *

><p>They showed up not half an hour later. I was in one of the empty rooms of the hospital, lying through my teeth to two upstanding lawmen, when I heard them.<p>

"A hit-and-run?" The older man definitely didn't believe me. That was fine. I would have been far more concerned if he had. "Ma'am, you're saying your friend got _that_ badly beat up by a _car_?"

"They're lethal," I said, straight-faced.

"Ma'am, he has _bullet holes_ in his chest_._"

"No, that was a branch. He got knocked against a tree."

"There's bullets still in the holes, ma'am."

"Well, you see..." Where the hell was the Joe team? Late slackers. I glanced out the window, and caught sight of a pair of small lights in the dark sky: a helicopter setting down. I breathed a sigh of relief. "You see, the tree was armed. It didn't appreciate being bumped into."

The officers exchanged looks. They found this very, very fishy. Suddenly, their faces altered, spasmed, went slack, and both of them slid to the ground, completely unconscious.

I actually smiled. I hadn't even heard him come in. "Kamakura. Nice one."

He nodded back sternly, a little proud but trying to hide it. "Cheshire." Then his face altered and he became all business. "Where is Storm Shadow?"

"In surgery. He got shot eight times. By the Baroness," I added quickly. "Where's everybody else?"

Kamakura's face wouldn't have changed to an uninitiated viewer, but certain lines deepened, certain muscles twitched, and my spider-senses began to tingle. I could read deep concern there. "They're in the Middle East, most of them. An American ambassador got kidnapped and some rebels took it as a sign that now was a good moment to launch an attack on American military bases. Hawk is diverting everyone he can here to pick you up, but I was the closest. I drove like mad to get here in the time I did."

My breath left my lungs. "You drove? In a _car_?"

"There weren't any helicopters around when the call came in."

"But I just saw one land a mile away five minutes ago," I said slowly.

Kamakura and I stared at each other. "Damn it!" he breathed.

I darted over to the window and looked out. Dark figures in the parking lot, dressed in a familiar uniform. I was an idiot. I should have stayed away from the window. I saw one Viper look around, spot me, stiffen, and I ducked. The next instant, the window exploded into glass chips and bullets riddled the ceiling.

Kamakura dropped like a rock, covering his head from the glass. I wriggled over and we scuttled out of the room, pulling the door closed behind us. "Sorry," I gasped. "That was dumb." I had confiscated the police officers' guns; now I stuck one in my belt and stood. We were in the reception area. The secretary was gossiping with a young doctor. They both looked at me; I pointed the weapon at them and said quite seriously, "Get into the operating room or I'll shoot you."

The poor ladies fell over themselves obeying. Kamakura gave me a reproachful look. I rolled my eyes at him.

This was a tiny hospital in a small mountain town; the rest of the night staff had been working on Storm Shadow already. We had the floor to ourselves.

"Let's hurry," Kamakura told me grimly.

I gave him a very sweet smile. This might actually be fun.

**Next chapter, some Vipers find out first-hand exactly how much damage an apprentice ninja and a kind-of-sort-of-but-not-really-because-that-would-make-her-a-Sue-apprentice ninja can do in a hospital full of nice pointy/poisonous/explosive objects... fun times will be had by most!**


	12. Threads Have Two Ends

**Disclaimer: **I do not own G. I. Joe, nor any trademark names in this story. I do own Megan Catrenski and any OCs that may appear, unless stated otherwise.

**Author's note: I may have stolen the idea of Cobra troops being the dregs of society from Karama9 (not trying to dodge blame here, but I honestly can't remember whether I had the idea before or after I read her stories), so I'm going to do the responsible law-abiding thing and give her the credit. **

* * *

><p><strong>THREADS HAVE TWO ENDS<strong>

"Listen," I said to Kamakura urgently as we prepared ourselves for the coming battle. "This?" I held up the USB that Storm Shadow had given me. "It needs to get to Hawk, as soon as possible. You may have to take it and run."

"I'm not leaving you," he said stubbornly.

"Well, I'm not leaving Storm Shadow," I said, equally as stubborn. "And that USB is more important than any of us."

"You'll survive," Kamakura told me, still not taking the damned thing.

"This isn't my dramatic final exit," I said icily. "I'm not about to commit suicide by Viper, I assure you. But your fighting skills are better, and so are your chances of survival, so will you take the god-damned chip already?"

He finally reached out and accepted it, tucking it into his pocket.

"Kamakura?" I said, working to maintain my composure for a moment. "If I don't survive, could you apologise to Scarlett and Beach Head and the other Joes for me?"

"What for?" he asked, startled. "We know you aren't a traitor, Cheshire. Scarlett knew it from the beginning, and Hawk told the rest of us when he got your signal."

That wasn't all. I could read his face. He hadn't believed it anyway. I felt a little warm glow in the pit of my stomach, quickly extinguished when I heard the noise of approaching Vipers. "They're coming," I said to Kamakura.

"Cheshire, we could always lure them away," Kamakura suggested quickly. "They would come after us and leave the hospital alone."

"No, they wouldn't." I was sure of this point. "The Commander values Storm Shadow more than anyone. He'll have given orders to retrieve him. We need to stop them."

"Why?"

It wasn't a bad question, and he didn't mean it maliciously. Those were the only reasons I didn't shoot him myself. That doesn't mean I stopped for long to answer. "Because he isn't a bad person," I said as I slipped down the hallway. "And I'm kind of trying to not be such a bad person either."

Kamakura, tucked into the space between the ceiling tiles and the actual ceiling, laughed. He didn't seem to think I was a bad person at all.

He was so sweet.

* * *

><p>The leader of the Viper squad cautiously pushed open the door of the hospital, entering the tiny foyer at the head of his team. Behind him, the Vipers lurked or dawdled, unwilling to enter the building that contained two rogue operatives.<p>

He had heard Storm Shadow was badly injured, maybe dead. He hoped very much that that was true. Otherwise they were already dead and just hadn't been informed of the fact. The other one – Secret – he wasn't so concerned about. He had seen her. She was built like an elementary-school student. The only reason she had survived on the Island was the way she hid behind the ninja. What was the worse she could do?

He took another step forwards and felt the smallest pull around his ankles. He glanced down, seeing a tiny glittering thread strung across the hallway at foot-height. As he watched, it gave way, tugging at something around the corner. He wheeled around to urge his squad to run, only to see a loaded grenade pull loose from the ceiling above the door and swing towards the squad, suspended by a thread tied around its pin – the pin, that, as he watched, pulled from the grenade and swung merrily, bobbing around under its suddenly reduced weight.

_Of course,_ he thought dimly, feeling shrapnel drill through his body. _Threads have two ends. _

The second squad froze as they heard the explosion echo through the building.

"Holy shit," one of them breathed.

"Maintain radio silence except for emergencies," their leader ordered sternly. "Swearing is not an emergency." Deep down, he was as scared as his men. If Storm Shadow had been behind that explosion, that meant the rumours of his death were less than accurate by a huge margin. If _that _was true, then 'holy shit' was all that could be said about their chances of survival.

"Move on," the man ordered. He couldn't help but notice his hand was shaking. God, he needed a hit. Why a hospital? Why the hell did it have to be a hospital? So many drugs... God, he had to focus, he was hunting a god-damned ninja... God, was that a medicine cabinet?

When Secret stepped out and shot him, it was almost a relief.

* * *

><p>The police officers' guns were long-barrelled .38 revolvers. Heavy guns. I would have preferred something daintier – a snub-nosed pistol, a .22 perhaps – but that was just my aesthetic side bitching. If I said the guns were not a good size, I'd have to admit that they weren't a bad size either, and since I was shooting from such close range anyway, it didn't matter.<p>

I hadn't been exaggerating when I told the Commander that I had shot Beach Head in the chest because it was the easiest target: I had a lousy aim. But the leader of the troop was one of the many junkies that Cobra hired, and his reaction-time had been shot to hell years ago. He barely had time to turn before I shot him in the chest. The rest of his squad were even worse; Kamakura ambushed them from behind with frightening ease. While he took care of the rest of the squad, I moved forwards and carefully placed bullets into the soft flesh under their jaws. No sense in being careless, and the last thing we needed was to be ambushed by one of these jokers. The embarrassment factor would be ridiculous, for one thing.

I checked their pockets for better weapons as quickly as I could. Kamakura kept watch. "You're uncomfortably comfortable with dead people," he said softly.

I shrugged, busying plundering the smallest corpse of its body armour. "Expecting me to be squeamish?"

"A little bit."

I buckled the vest and picked up my guns, glancing at him sideways. "Why?"

"Come on," he said, leading me away from the door. "The other squads are probably trying to contact their friends now. When they don't get a response..."

"I know," I said, a little waspishly. "And you didn't answer me. Why should I be squeamish?"

"Is now really the time?" he hissed, sliding into the shadows as we both heard the main doors open again. I ducked behind the reception desk, tucking myself under the counter.

We had only had time to rig one grenade trip-wire, which was a real shame: that little trap had been my idea, and it had taken out an entire squad. Kamakura hadn't liked the idea that ninja could be replaced with small round objects the size and shape of avocadoes, but he hadn't wasted time complaining, for which I was grateful. And, joy of joys, he had left me the rest of the grenade belt to play with.

The only problem was, I couldn't tell where the idiot was lurking. Dark corners – and there were a lot of those; we had turned the lights in this area of the hospital off to make the Vipers' jobs harder – weren't shrapnel-proof; if I used a grenade now, I could very well do the Vipers' job for them by accident. I bit my lips, and reluctantly laid the grenades to one side.

The guns, on the other hand... well, regardless of how terrible my aim was, I knew Kamakura could dodge. Which was really an excellent trait in a ninja, now I thought about it. I picked up one gun, and held my breath, listening. This squad was moving in a lot faster than the previous one, and from the commands I was getting over the Cobra earpiece – another spoil of war I had taken from the second squad – they weren't being led by a complete idiot.

This could be tricky. Thank God for ninja.

Over the radio, I heard a strangled grunting noise. I took this as my cue, swivelled, and rose to my feet. I totally forgot that I had moved under the counter; my head crashed into it at a faster speed than I could sprint.

Kamakura was laughing so hard he almost wet himself when he told the other Joes later that I must have nearly concussed myself on purpose because I knew the noise would work so well as a distraction. Apparently the entire squad of Vipers thought the ninja attacking them had somehow gone to ground behind the desk, so one and all of them turned and trained their weapons on the desk. Kamakura had actually been standing next to them. Thirty seconds later, he was standing above them, watching as the last one died.

I rose into view, rubbing the egg forming on the top of my skull. Kamakura seized my arm and dragged me deeper into the hospital for a quick conference of war.

"This isn't going to work anymore," he said urgently. "They'll send in all their troops now, to bury us with sheer weight of numbers. We need a new plan."

"Grenades?" I suggested.

"We can't just set grenades up at every entrance, this is a hospital! It will collapse!"

"Correct me if I'm wrong," I said, dangling the grenade belt nonchalantly from a finger, "But aren't the Vipers currently lining up in the _car park_?"

He stared at me for a moment, then grinned. "You're an evil genius. Stay here and pick off any that get in around me."

I nodded agreement and retreated back a few corridors to stand in front of the OR doors. Inside, Storm Shadow was having his lungs reinflated and the many pneumothoraces the gunshot wounds had generated remedied. The doctors were still working urgently: Kamakura had ducked in, shown them his military ID and told them to disregard whatever they heard outside. I peered in through the glass panels on the doors. They were working pretty steadily. Apparently explosions were easier to disregard than I would have thought.

A doctor rounded the corner and jogged down the hallway towards me, looking harried. I raised my gun and trained it on his torso. "Stop."

He stopped short and raised his hands. "What the hell do you think you're doing? I need to get in there, that man needs immediate–"

"Shut _up_, Zartan."

He dropped both his hands and the disguise, looking amused. "Not falling for that anymore, eh?"

"Not to brag, but I didn't fall for it in the first place," I said. "I recognised you at the labs six months ago." Zartan's presence had been what made me sure that Cobra and Dermish were working together: there was no good reason for him to be there except that he was waiting for the Joes to come back. Or, more specifically, he had been waiting for yours truly. After all, Cobra Commander needed me to act as Dermish's wage.

In my opinion, Dermish had been behind the first kidnapping attempt as well. Cobra Commander may have used me to reel in the Joes, but he hadn't planned on leaving me behind with the other civilians. He had meant to take me with him, and give me to Dermish as payment for the work Dermish had promised to do on Storm Shadow. I had been rescued, and disappeared off the radar for six months. When I had resurfaced – and I didn't doubt that Cobra _had_ been keeping an eye out for me during that lost time – I had been with the Joes, and when he had finally gotten his greasy mitts on me, I had gone right ahead and exposed Dermish as a fraud to Cobra. The rest, as they say, is history.

Zartan's lips had tightened. "Smart cookie, aren't you?"

I didn't respond for a moment. "Why do this, Zartan? Haven't you done enough?"

"What?" He hadn't expected that.

"I talked to Zanya once about you. She said you infiltrated the Arashikage as a sword-smith."

The man didn't reply, but his eyes were tight now too.

"The way she talked, it sounded like you were _ordered_ to kill Snake Eyes," I went on. I had been harbouring this theory for a while, and testing it as often as possible with casual remarks made in conversation. I was pretty certain of what I was saying. "I don't think she realised, I don't think anyone did, but you didn't want to be a killer anymore, really, did you?" Bingo. "You just wanted to stay, and make swords, and live, didn't you?" I was on a roll, and really, I had Zanya to thank. Hearing the words she was parroting, the ones Zartan had used to tell her his story; and then, seeing Zartan interact with her, had made me think he wanted something more than being a dangerous criminal all his life. A few casual conversations had confirmed it for me over the past three months. I was quite proud of myself, really. I had been planning this little insurance-scheme for a while, and so far, it was working.

Zartan didn't answer for a long, long time. "What do you want, Secret?" he asked finally.

"I want you to walk away."

"I'm not leaving Cobra."

"I meant the hospital. I don't give a rat's ass what you do with Cobra, but I want you to walk away from this corridor and we'll both never mention this scene again." He was considering it, I could tell. Guilt was, and always had been, one of the easiest emotions for me to use. Suggest a certain course of action in a certain way, and people just assumed that doing what you wanted meant that they were absolved of their sins. Time for the final push. "Don't you think you owe Storm Shadow, just a little bit?"

Wrong move, _shit._ Zartan's face had hardened. "I don't owe that–"

"You don't owe _him_?" I interrupted. "You feel that way about the rest of his family?"

That shut him up. "The... There's no..."

"There is. The Arashikage aren't all gone," I said quickly. A series of explosions sounded from the car park, but they could have been occurring on the dark side of the moon for all the notice Zartan took of them. No Dreadnoks out there, then. "Storm Shadow's family isn't gone. They still worry about him." He was teetering on the brink, so close, so close... "They know he's been brainwashed. They think he can be fixed."

That did it. That sealed the bargain. Zartan looked me, long and hard in the eyes, and nodded, once. "This little chat never happened. Tell the ninja we're even."

Like _that_ would stop Storm Shadow if he remembered who had killed his uncle. "I'll let him know," I said, keeping my features clear of relief.

He wasn't fooled, but then, Zartan's family were all almost as good at reading people as I was.

"You were a good Viper, you know. You really think you'll really be able to just go back to the Joes?" Zartan asked cynically, walking towards me. I didn't panic; he was aiming to pass me, not to attack me. That doesn't mean I lowered the gun, of course.

"Sure, why not?" I kept my voice cool.

"Like I said, you were a good Viper. Because deep down, you're carrying the same big ball of rage and hate as the rest of them," Zartan told me, as if I were too dumb to realise it on my own. "It'll poison you yet."

"That's Secret, not Cheshire," I said coldly. "Completely different from each other."

"Secret's the one who infiltrated Cobra," Zartan said, drawing level with me, eyes fixed dead ahead. "Catrenski's the one who wanted to kill Dermish so bad she nearly killed herself in the process. You can get rid of Secret, but Catrenski is who you really are underneath. And I can tell you, all that black hate? It's not goin' anywhere." He finally looked at me, over his shoulder, as he turned a corner. "Something to think about."

I suddenly wanted this chameleon-man as far away from me as possible. He saw too much. "I'm not your god-damned daughter. Beat it, Zartan."

His deep chuckle filled the empty corridor. "I'll be back, sweetheart. You know it."

I stared at the empty corridor, fuming. Damn smug shape-shifter... what the hell did he know?

The problem is, he was right.

I know truth. I search for it every day, in faces, in voices, in body language. I know it in all its glorious, beautiful, loathsome forms. And Zartan had been speaking the truth.

Someone tapped me on the shoulder, and I screamed. It was Snake Eyes. Talking to Zartan, I had completely missed the sound of the Joes' helicopter setting down.

"Damnit! Does that amuse you?" I snarled.

He cocked his head. *Hello to you too.*

I ran a hand over my face. It wasn't as if he could clear his throat, I supposed. "Sorry. Hi." How long had he been present? How much had he overheard?

Kamakura dropped down out of the ceiling. "Sensei!" he said happily. I was reminded of a puppy wagging its tail. "You're here!"

*Yes, though from the looks of it, I'm not needed.* He clapped Kamakura on the shoulder. *You did very well.*

As Kamakura swelled with pride, Scarlett, Beach Head and Duke rounded the corner, guns out.

"Building is secure," Duke said into his mic, seeing no Vipers in front of him.

"Did any even make it out of the carpark?" I asked Kamakura. He grinned modestly.

"Well, the others showed up in time to pick off the stragglers."

"Cheshire," Duke interrupted crisply. "Report."

"Storm Shadow's in surgery, he got shot. By the Baroness," I added quickly. "The Silent Castle is now the Silent Pile of Rubble, and Kamakura has a USB with intel from Cobra computers on it." Already, I was lapsing back into my Cheshire identity, my sentences short and clipped and shorn of unnecessary words. It was such a relief.

"We'll debrief in more detail later," Duke told me. "For now, wait here with Snake Eyes." He moved past me to speak to the traumatised-looking doctor poking her head out of the OR.

He didn't trust me. I met his eyes as he passed and nodded once, then looked away. He didn't trust me. For the first time, I wondered if Zartan might not have been wrong.

Beach Head lumbered up. "So. Undercover the whole time?"

"Yes sir. Apologies for shooting you, sir."

"Ah lived. Pretty gutsy, infiltratin' Cobra when you were only a Joe for eight months." He crossed his arms. He didn't trust me either.

Time to bring out the big guns. I looked him straight in the eyes and said, "I saw an opportunity. Hawk agreed with me when I rang him to consult."

The Joes might not have liked me, but I had been personally nominated by their General, and the respect they had had for him had translated into ambivalent tolerance of me. Hawk's approval wouldn't shield me for long, or from much, but it was enough for Beach Head. He grunted and headed off down the corridor. I looked after him, and then looked at Snake Eyes. "Are you going to yell at me too?"

*You saved my sword-brother's life. I'm deeply grateful. But I do have a question.*

"Shoot."

*Why did you really infiltrate Cobra?*

"If I have to tell that story, I'm telling it once, to Hawk," I said shortly.

Snake Eyes looked at me, then nodded. *Fine.*

He may have said more, but if he did, I missed it, for at that moment something heavy struck me from behind.

"Thank you!" Jinx whispered, hugging me so tightly I felt my ribs threaten to dislocate. "Thank you so much."

" 'S 'kay," I wheezed, patting her on the back with one hand and pointing frantically at her with the other, trying to signal Kamakura or Snake Eyes to get her off me. They were both just standing there, watching. Kamakura was definitely grinning, and I suspected Snake Eyes was too, the bastard.

"Jinx..." I whispered, literally unable to raise my voice. "Jinx... air... ribs..."

She let go and I quickly sucked in a deep breath, not massaging my ribcage through a massive show of willpower. "Thanks," I said.

"For what? You _saved _Tommy's life!"

I couldn't bear to tell her that I had been thanking her for not hugging me anymore. "He's in a coma, Jinx." I didn't mention that they had thought he was dead for over half an hour, until one of the doctors had realised that something called lividity was not normal.

"That's fine," she said dismissively.

"I thought you liked your cousin?" I asked carefully.

"No, the coma is a good thing," she said brightly. "It's called the Trance of the Sleeping Phoenix; it's what the Arashikage used to use to heal themselves. Snake Eyes thinks it'll help with the brainwashing too!"

"Ah. The other Joes," I began carefully. "Are they... angry, at me?"

Snake Eyes shrugged. *You aren't the first Joe to go undercover, and you won't be the last.*

"Yes, but it's like Beach Head said," I prodded. "I was only a Joe for eight months."

"Nobody cares," Jinx said. "They're all impressed that you pulled it off so well. Though," she added, "Everyone does want to know why your cover story was that you wanted to kill Dermish. It's just so random, you've made everyone curious."

I felt like something had hit me in the stomach. "But…" I said slowly. "How did you know that was my cover story?"

"That Viper who defected, he joined us," Kamakura said. "He said you traded service to Cobra for the opportunity to take out Dermish. Apparently you were really convincing."

I nodded once. They honestly thought I had seized upon an unknown entity and crafted some stirring tale of revenge centred on him to convince Cobra. They hadn't realised that the best lies are the ones that are true. I hadn't used Dermish to infiltrate Cobra for the Joes. I had used the Joes to infiltrate Cobra to get to Dermish.

Suddenly another thought struck me, and I groaned.

"What?" Jinx asked in alarm.

"I shot Beach Head," I said miserably.

"Cheshire, he won't yell at you–"

"And now I have to go back to PT with him," I finished.

There was a stunned silence. "Oh wow," Jinx breathed, her eyes widening. "You _do_."

"I'm dead," I sighed.

None of them disagreed with me, but I saw Snake Eyes' shoulders shake with laughter, the bastard.

**There's a quote from a book hidden in this chapter. If you guess it, you get a prize scene: Beach Head's reaction to being shot!**


	13. Epilogue

**Disclaimer: **I do not own G. I. Joe, nor any trademark names in this story. I do own Megan Catrenski and any OCs that may appear, unless stated otherwise.

* * *

><p><strong>EPILOGUE<strong>

Hawk waited until the end of my debriefing to tackle me.

I was exhausted. It had been a big day, and he, Duke and Stalker had been very thorough in their questions. I was ready for bed, but now Hawk was asking for privacy from the other two men, and they were leaving the office. It was suddenly very, very quiet in there. The clock ticking on the wall sounded very loud in the silence.

"A Viper defected while you were away," Hawk said conversationally. I smiled briefly. I could still remember the temper-tantrum Cobra Commander had thrown when he had heard the news. I had had the good fortune to be within earshot: I had laughed so hard I nearly ruptured something. He had been a step away from collapsing to the ground and drumming his hands and fists against the floor. "He told us that you joined Cobra to kill a man named Dermish," Hawk continued.

I looked at the clock and nodded. "That's the cover story I used," I murmured.

He swept on, ignoring me. "That was apparently a very convincing cover story. In fact, so convincing, that it made me wonder about your reaction when I showed you Dermish's picture six months ago. There had been something off, you understand. Nothing obvious, but clearly something had affected you. To be honest, I thought it was just stress about your first field assignment going wrong."

I nodded again. Hawk saw too damned much.

"Cheshire, who is Dermish?"

The clock ticked in the silence. I didn't answer.

"We ran the most comprehensive search we could, and we didn't find him under that name. We found him under the name Alan Renard. Romalian father, American mother, six big brothers who all grew up in Romalia. He abandoned that persona ten years ago, though."

I nodded again, not trusting myself to speak. The clock's hands were moving so very slowly.

"Cheshire," he leaned forwards, real concern etched on his face, "Megan, who is Renard?"

The minute hand jerked around the face of the clock. I felt like I was barely breathing, but this question had to be asked, and out of everyone in the entire world, Hawk was probably the one I would answer it honestly for. I felt a stir of sudden misgiving. Why _did_ I trust him so much?

"Why did you hire me?" I asked abruptly.

"Because I heard you were excellent at what you did." He smiled slightly. "I didn't hire you out of guilt for getting you kidnapped, Cheshire. I heard you were good, and had you down here, and you were as good as they said." He leaned back in his chair. "I'll admit, I wasn't impressed by Duke's initial account, but I _was_ impressed by the way the others described you during the rescue mission. You didn't lose your head."

"I spent a lot of time putting it back together fifteen years ago. I wasn't going to throw it away because some idiot in a mask snatched me."

"Which segues neatly into my next question, or rather, my first question. Who is Renard to you?" He paused, then added, "Cheshire, I can't trust you without knowing this."

The clock hand kept moving. The silence returned. I enjoyed it for a moment, then took a deep breath. "I haven't told anyone this, ever. If I tell you now, I want you to promise that I'm only doing it to save my place as a Joe. I don't want to be satisfying your sense of curiosity."

"You have my word that if this story doesn't answer all of my questions, and reassure my doubts, you'll be out on the streets in no time," Hawk told me seriously. He wasn't kidding.

That was fair enough. He deserved the truth. The other Joes did too, I suppose, but I wasn't going to give it to them. If I stayed, then I might tell them that I really had planned to kill Renard. But I wouldn't tell them why.

Everyone has secrets. Some keep them better than others, some keep them poorly, some keep them so well that you don't even know that there is a secret involved. I was one of the third category. I had been since I was ten. I planned to be for the rest of my life.

With the exception of Hawk – and probably, after he heard exactly how messed up I was, he would feel the need to involve Psyche-Out too – I would never tell this story again.

Never.

* * *

><p>The Interrogator entered the cell, looking at the man tied down there. His face was battered and bruised – apparently the Dreadnoks who had finally laid hands on him hadn't done it gently. He was also gagged.<p>

The Interrogator leaned forwards and removed the gag. "You are Dermish," he said.

The man stared at him, and nodded. "I was."

"You have agreed to the Commander's terms?"

"I have."

The words sealed a deal that had been two days in the making. Though Cobra had dictated the majority of the terms, Dermish had proven himself to be no light-weight when it came to using the intelligence and skills that he possessed to polish the deal to his advantage. The Interrogator inclined his head once, paying tribute to that. "What name do you choose?"

"Crystal Ball."

The Interrogator may have smiled. "How fitting."

**THE END (For now)**


End file.

G. I. Joe