A long overdue post (part 2)
Just the last three parts of the fic I just posted, which wouldn't fit.
Destro/Baroness
He stands awkwardly by the refreshment table at the ritziest party he's been to since he started working for Cobra. He remembers elaborate gatherings like this from his childhood and adolescence, following days being dressed up and instructed by his parents and servants on how to act or being instructed by his assistant on what stockholders, partners and vendors will be attending and who will be worth talking to-- but this is much different.
Among the guests are the richest of the rich from all parts of Europe, old money mixed with new money but all of them united by their willingness to find Cobra Commander and his efforts. Some have been tricked into being here through a mixture of persuasiveness and lies, some have been blackmailed into attending and some are just there because they want to be. Cobra Commander will never turn away a source of potential income, and it's Destro's job to weed through the guests and find who will be a real asset. He is still trying to adjust to the environment, however-- the stiff upper lip, the soft music playing in the background from the string quartet just barely audible over voices murmuring about new convertibles or business mergers, the fruity smell of fine wines and champagnes and fresh fruits imported from the best orchards from all over the world. If there's one thing he's noticed about Cobra Commander during his time working for him, it's that he will always throw fabulous parties, even if he will never attend them.
Just as he's about to wander away from the table to mingle, he sees perfection walking towards him.
She's petite, but sporting legs long and lean for her size-- she's not a stick like most of the other women he's seen in attendance, but rather has substance to her, muscles layered over her bones. She has glasses perched on her straight nose, her long brown hair tied up into a messy bun of elegant curls at the top of her head. Her dress leaves very little to the imagination, but just enough to be intriguing. He recognizes her as Anastasia Cisarovna, the daughter of a very wealthy man who passed away just a year ago, leaving her all of his worldly possessions-- something he knows irritated her mother to no end. For a moment he thinks she's just come for a snack or to help herself to one of the flutes of champagne available to those who'd rather not seek out one of the servers. He's proven wrong when she walks right up to him and gives him a positively devious smile-- one full of assurance and promise and one he's sure has conquered many men before.
He likes to consider himself stronger than most other men, but she proves him wrong in this case.
"So I hear you're the person to talk to about making a business deal with Mr. DeCobray," she says, setting her empty wine glass on the table. "You're his gopher, then?" That smile appears again.
"Something like that," Destro replies, standing up straight. He completely towards over her, resting at a solid height of over seven feet while she can't be more than five-five. "And you must be Ms. Cisarovna. Charmed." He takes her hand and leans down, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. She purses her lips, looking as though she's not sure whether to be charmed or not. He stands tall again. "You understand the nature of Mr. DeCobray's pursuits, then?"
She gives him a knowing smile and joins him in standing by the refreshments table. "Oh, of course," she croons. "Mr. DeCobray and I share.. similar pursuits. I'd like to help him with his pursuits. Perhaps on a deeper level than just as an investor?" She gives him a meaningful look and he straightens his tie nervously.
"I will.. speak to my employer and see if that's feasible. Do you have any.. special skills?" he asks.
"I wouldn't be suggesting it if I didn't," she replies, raising an eyebrow. She moves closer to his side-- he feels nervous, in the presence of such a beautiful and flirtatious woman. He keeps his hands behind his back. "Let me know if he accepts my offer, won't you?" She pulls out a business card, although he's not sure from where, but he politely declines.
"I know who you are, Ms. Cisarovna, and how to contact you," he insists.
"Please, call me Anastasia." she says. "Although I guess it's rude of me to not ask your name." He smiles at her and bows his head.
"Not at all, Anastasia. I'm James McCullen, but just between us? You may call me Destro. It's a.. special name that Mr. DeCobray has for me." he explains.
From somewhere else in the room, someone calls to Anastasia, and she turns to politely wave at whoever it is that's calling to her.
"I shouldn't keep you from the party any longer," he says, leaning back against the refreshment table and crossing his arms. "Have a good evening, Anastasia."
She steps up in front of him, stands on the tips of her toes and presses a quick kiss to his lips.
"Just make sure to tell DeCobray about my offer, okay?"
And with that she wanders off to enjoy the party for the rest of the evening, leaving a very bewildered Destro to stand there.
Cobra Commander/Duke
Cobra Commander slouches back against the wall, head lolling backwards. He's lost his helmet by this point, damaged beyond repair during the last onslaught, but his hood remains intact-- he's not sure what he would do if it hadn't.
It's been.. god knows how long since the two groups, the Cobra Elite and Sigma 6, were trapped here in this old Cobra bunker. Some deranged AI had done it, constantly sending wave after wave of mechs to flush them out-- they'd held out so far, but it was only a matter of time before they were overpowered, and no one's sure what would happen after that. He prefers not the think about it.
His armour's become dented and scratched in the time he's been here and he's received several bullet wounds, all of which have been patched up but they're slowly running out of medical supplies; he sustained a facial wound earlier that day with a deep scratch, but as it's not critical, he chose to deny treatment to save whatever they could; it burns and stings, but he ignores it.
Footsteps approach him from the other end of the hall and he tilts his head up, looking up at whoever is coming towards him. Duke is standing there, having gotten rid of his body armour for the time being and choosing instead to wear a muscle shirt, cargo pants and army boots. His upper arm is wrapped in bandages, from where he was shot during the last wave.
"You okay?" he asks, sticking his hands in the pockets of his cargo pants. Cobra Commander gives him a dry look.
"As okay as I can be, considering the circumstances," he replies simply. "Just.. enjoying the calm before the storm." Duke nods in understanding and leans back against the wall, sliding down. He's about a foot away from Cobra Commander.
"We need to get out of here," the Sigma 6 leader mutters. "We're running low on medical and food supplies, we don't know how long the water is going to last and the electricity is starting to fail. I'm surprised the damn place hasn't come down around our heads."
Cobra Commander tilts his head to the side. "Thank you for your insight. I was already quite aware of the fact that we were bunkered down in a hell hole." He falls into a small coughing fit to match his naturally scratchy voice.
Duke reaches over and puts a firm hand on his armour, forcing him to look at him. "Hey, grow a fucking spine, why don't you," the blond man growls. "You're supposed to be a leader, aren't you?" Cobra Commander glares over at him.
"Oh, believe me, my subordinates are motivated enough to survive without my leadership and guidance," he replies. "They don't give up quite so easily. I've trained them better than that. I think I'm allotted a few minutes to brood." He reaches up and touches the scratch on his face. When he draws back his hand, he draws back dry, flaky blood with it, and scowls. Duke leans his head back with a thunk against the wall.
"Yeah.. I guess you're right," he submits. "Things are pretty crappy right now." He pulls his knees up and Cobra Commander watches as he moves into what seems to be a comforting pose. He sighs deeply.
"So.. any ideas?" he asks, trying to re-spark the conversation. Duke shrugs.
"Not really, but we're probably only good to stay here for two or three days at the most, if we stretch our remaining food," he replies. "And that's only if the power doesn't fail and the heat stays functional."
"There's a small town at the base of the mountain," he suggests. "The full bunker at the top of the mountain would be safer but that would likely be where our enemy would strike, while we were fighting our way up. Going down would be faster and we might be able to escape their notice." Duke nods.
"We'd have to set up a diversion just to make sure though," he agrees. "..let's be honest here, do you really think we're getting out?"
Cobra Commander looks over him, sees eyes searching for comfort. He never expected to see Duke looking to him for comfort, but here it is. He clears his throat and stretches out, crossing his arms.
"Most definitely," he replies. "We need to. I'm not dying in here. Besides, we have two of the strongest teams in the world. Whoever is doing this won't get away with it."
Duke smiles at him.
"Thanks, Commander." he says. Cobra Commander is a little taken aback by the use of his title, but merely clears his throat.
"It's.. nothing." he replies, losing a bit of his confidence. Duke reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder.
Before Cobra Commander knows what's going on, Duke leans over, lifts his hood ever so slightly and kisses him.
Billy/Scott
Scott stares at himself in the mirror, picking at the edge of his sleeve. He's wearing a long-sleeved sweater and dark jeans, having removed his goggles and cleaned his sneakers. It's about as ready as he's going to be.
Billy had asked him out on a date. The slightly older boy had arrived at the school not too long ago, having only recently moved there, and he and Scott had quickly become friends. More than that, even; Scott had quickly developed a crush on him. And then a day ago, Billy had pulled him away from their little group of mutual friends and asked him on a date. He'd been ecstatic. Now here he is, standing in front of his bathroom mirror and picking at his clothes.
He hears a knock on the door. "Hey, Scott? You almost done getting dressed?" It's his father; the man's been home for a couple of weeks now, having just been given the doctor's permission to walk around without his crutches or his wheelchair, and he's been taking full advantage of it. He still hobbles a little, but he's looking a lot better. Scott unlocks the door and steps out.
"Yeah, I'm done," he says, tugging on the bottom of his sweater. "Do I look okay?" he asks shyly. His father smiles down at him.
"You look perfect, son," he replies, ruffling his hair. Originally Scott had been terrified of the idea of telling his father that he was going out on a date with another boy, but Clayton had been very understanding and seemed completely unsurprised. "Just make sure you're home by twelve and call me if you need anything." Clayton is a lenient parent, preferring to give his son as much freedom as he possibly can, but as a single father he still worries. Scott smiles.
"I will, dad," he says. Clayton gives him a pat on the shoulder, and Scott wraps his arms around him-- tenderly-- for a hug. The G.I. Joe commander chuckles and nudges his son in the shoulders telling him he'd better go wait for his date.
Scott practically jumps down the stairs, taking them three at a time, and practically as soon as he hits the foyer of his house the doorbell rings. He answers it with a bright, nervous smile.
"H-hey," he greets, Billy standing there and looking incredibly classy. He's wearing a pastel blue dress shirt and black slacks and loafers, and Scott feels woefully under-dressed. Billy simply smiles at him, however. "So, uh. I hope I'm not under-dressed." he says, his voice small and weak with nervousness.
"No, no, not at all. I'm probably a little over-dressed." Billy replies with a little shrug. "Um-- you don't mind walking, do you? I mean, it's a nice night, and it's not far.. if you don't want to we can take the bus."
"I'm fine with walking." Scott says. He turns to wave to his father, who's slowly made his way down the stairs by this point, and his father waves back. Billy looks around Scott to give him a wave as well, but freezes when he sees him. Scott takes it as nervousness. "Ah, dad, this is Billy, Billy, this is my dad."
"Hi, Billy," Clayton greets. "I hope the two of you have a good night."
Billy smiles nervously and bunches up his shoulders. "Er, thank you, sir," he says. "It was nice to meet you. Scott, do you want to go..?"
Scott smiles, waves at his father and follows Billy out the door. The two start walking towards Main Street, only fifteen minutes from Scott's house. About halfway through the trip, Scott nervously reaches over and takes Billy's hand. The older boy looks over and smiles at him, stopping. They're standing by a wooden railing on a walking trail through a little park area, opening up to a small creek below.
"I'm.. really glad you agreed to go out with me tonight," Billy says, taking Scott's other hand as well. "I, uh.. I know this is really sudden and everything, but can I kiss you? I mean I know we're on our first date but we've known each other for a while now and I.. I really like you." Scott turns a brilliant shade of red and nods, biting his lower lip and tilting his head down but still looking up at Billy. The older boy holds his hands up and pulls him forwards a little, clearing his throat and tilting his head, leaning forwards. Scott looks up and tilts his own head into a more comfortable angle, and their lips meet for a few moments. When they pull apart, they're both bright red.
Billy wants things to stay like this forever. He only wishes it could.
Destro/Baroness
He stands awkwardly by the refreshment table at the ritziest party he's been to since he started working for Cobra. He remembers elaborate gatherings like this from his childhood and adolescence, following days being dressed up and instructed by his parents and servants on how to act or being instructed by his assistant on what stockholders, partners and vendors will be attending and who will be worth talking to-- but this is much different.
Among the guests are the richest of the rich from all parts of Europe, old money mixed with new money but all of them united by their willingness to find Cobra Commander and his efforts. Some have been tricked into being here through a mixture of persuasiveness and lies, some have been blackmailed into attending and some are just there because they want to be. Cobra Commander will never turn away a source of potential income, and it's Destro's job to weed through the guests and find who will be a real asset. He is still trying to adjust to the environment, however-- the stiff upper lip, the soft music playing in the background from the string quartet just barely audible over voices murmuring about new convertibles or business mergers, the fruity smell of fine wines and champagnes and fresh fruits imported from the best orchards from all over the world. If there's one thing he's noticed about Cobra Commander during his time working for him, it's that he will always throw fabulous parties, even if he will never attend them.
Just as he's about to wander away from the table to mingle, he sees perfection walking towards him.
She's petite, but sporting legs long and lean for her size-- she's not a stick like most of the other women he's seen in attendance, but rather has substance to her, muscles layered over her bones. She has glasses perched on her straight nose, her long brown hair tied up into a messy bun of elegant curls at the top of her head. Her dress leaves very little to the imagination, but just enough to be intriguing. He recognizes her as Anastasia Cisarovna, the daughter of a very wealthy man who passed away just a year ago, leaving her all of his worldly possessions-- something he knows irritated her mother to no end. For a moment he thinks she's just come for a snack or to help herself to one of the flutes of champagne available to those who'd rather not seek out one of the servers. He's proven wrong when she walks right up to him and gives him a positively devious smile-- one full of assurance and promise and one he's sure has conquered many men before.
He likes to consider himself stronger than most other men, but she proves him wrong in this case.
"So I hear you're the person to talk to about making a business deal with Mr. DeCobray," she says, setting her empty wine glass on the table. "You're his gopher, then?" That smile appears again.
"Something like that," Destro replies, standing up straight. He completely towards over her, resting at a solid height of over seven feet while she can't be more than five-five. "And you must be Ms. Cisarovna. Charmed." He takes her hand and leans down, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. She purses her lips, looking as though she's not sure whether to be charmed or not. He stands tall again. "You understand the nature of Mr. DeCobray's pursuits, then?"
She gives him a knowing smile and joins him in standing by the refreshments table. "Oh, of course," she croons. "Mr. DeCobray and I share.. similar pursuits. I'd like to help him with his pursuits. Perhaps on a deeper level than just as an investor?" She gives him a meaningful look and he straightens his tie nervously.
"I will.. speak to my employer and see if that's feasible. Do you have any.. special skills?" he asks.
"I wouldn't be suggesting it if I didn't," she replies, raising an eyebrow. She moves closer to his side-- he feels nervous, in the presence of such a beautiful and flirtatious woman. He keeps his hands behind his back. "Let me know if he accepts my offer, won't you?" She pulls out a business card, although he's not sure from where, but he politely declines.
"I know who you are, Ms. Cisarovna, and how to contact you," he insists.
"Please, call me Anastasia." she says. "Although I guess it's rude of me to not ask your name." He smiles at her and bows his head.
"Not at all, Anastasia. I'm James McCullen, but just between us? You may call me Destro. It's a.. special name that Mr. DeCobray has for me." he explains.
From somewhere else in the room, someone calls to Anastasia, and she turns to politely wave at whoever it is that's calling to her.
"I shouldn't keep you from the party any longer," he says, leaning back against the refreshment table and crossing his arms. "Have a good evening, Anastasia."
She steps up in front of him, stands on the tips of her toes and presses a quick kiss to his lips.
"Just make sure to tell DeCobray about my offer, okay?"
And with that she wanders off to enjoy the party for the rest of the evening, leaving a very bewildered Destro to stand there.
Cobra Commander/Duke
Cobra Commander slouches back against the wall, head lolling backwards. He's lost his helmet by this point, damaged beyond repair during the last onslaught, but his hood remains intact-- he's not sure what he would do if it hadn't.
It's been.. god knows how long since the two groups, the Cobra Elite and Sigma 6, were trapped here in this old Cobra bunker. Some deranged AI had done it, constantly sending wave after wave of mechs to flush them out-- they'd held out so far, but it was only a matter of time before they were overpowered, and no one's sure what would happen after that. He prefers not the think about it.
His armour's become dented and scratched in the time he's been here and he's received several bullet wounds, all of which have been patched up but they're slowly running out of medical supplies; he sustained a facial wound earlier that day with a deep scratch, but as it's not critical, he chose to deny treatment to save whatever they could; it burns and stings, but he ignores it.
Footsteps approach him from the other end of the hall and he tilts his head up, looking up at whoever is coming towards him. Duke is standing there, having gotten rid of his body armour for the time being and choosing instead to wear a muscle shirt, cargo pants and army boots. His upper arm is wrapped in bandages, from where he was shot during the last wave.
"You okay?" he asks, sticking his hands in the pockets of his cargo pants. Cobra Commander gives him a dry look.
"As okay as I can be, considering the circumstances," he replies simply. "Just.. enjoying the calm before the storm." Duke nods in understanding and leans back against the wall, sliding down. He's about a foot away from Cobra Commander.
"We need to get out of here," the Sigma 6 leader mutters. "We're running low on medical and food supplies, we don't know how long the water is going to last and the electricity is starting to fail. I'm surprised the damn place hasn't come down around our heads."
Cobra Commander tilts his head to the side. "Thank you for your insight. I was already quite aware of the fact that we were bunkered down in a hell hole." He falls into a small coughing fit to match his naturally scratchy voice.
Duke reaches over and puts a firm hand on his armour, forcing him to look at him. "Hey, grow a fucking spine, why don't you," the blond man growls. "You're supposed to be a leader, aren't you?" Cobra Commander glares over at him.
"Oh, believe me, my subordinates are motivated enough to survive without my leadership and guidance," he replies. "They don't give up quite so easily. I've trained them better than that. I think I'm allotted a few minutes to brood." He reaches up and touches the scratch on his face. When he draws back his hand, he draws back dry, flaky blood with it, and scowls. Duke leans his head back with a thunk against the wall.
"Yeah.. I guess you're right," he submits. "Things are pretty crappy right now." He pulls his knees up and Cobra Commander watches as he moves into what seems to be a comforting pose. He sighs deeply.
"So.. any ideas?" he asks, trying to re-spark the conversation. Duke shrugs.
"Not really, but we're probably only good to stay here for two or three days at the most, if we stretch our remaining food," he replies. "And that's only if the power doesn't fail and the heat stays functional."
"There's a small town at the base of the mountain," he suggests. "The full bunker at the top of the mountain would be safer but that would likely be where our enemy would strike, while we were fighting our way up. Going down would be faster and we might be able to escape their notice." Duke nods.
"We'd have to set up a diversion just to make sure though," he agrees. "..let's be honest here, do you really think we're getting out?"
Cobra Commander looks over him, sees eyes searching for comfort. He never expected to see Duke looking to him for comfort, but here it is. He clears his throat and stretches out, crossing his arms.
"Most definitely," he replies. "We need to. I'm not dying in here. Besides, we have two of the strongest teams in the world. Whoever is doing this won't get away with it."
Duke smiles at him.
"Thanks, Commander." he says. Cobra Commander is a little taken aback by the use of his title, but merely clears his throat.
"It's.. nothing." he replies, losing a bit of his confidence. Duke reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder.
Before Cobra Commander knows what's going on, Duke leans over, lifts his hood ever so slightly and kisses him.
Billy/Scott
Scott stares at himself in the mirror, picking at the edge of his sleeve. He's wearing a long-sleeved sweater and dark jeans, having removed his goggles and cleaned his sneakers. It's about as ready as he's going to be.
Billy had asked him out on a date. The slightly older boy had arrived at the school not too long ago, having only recently moved there, and he and Scott had quickly become friends. More than that, even; Scott had quickly developed a crush on him. And then a day ago, Billy had pulled him away from their little group of mutual friends and asked him on a date. He'd been ecstatic. Now here he is, standing in front of his bathroom mirror and picking at his clothes.
He hears a knock on the door. "Hey, Scott? You almost done getting dressed?" It's his father; the man's been home for a couple of weeks now, having just been given the doctor's permission to walk around without his crutches or his wheelchair, and he's been taking full advantage of it. He still hobbles a little, but he's looking a lot better. Scott unlocks the door and steps out.
"Yeah, I'm done," he says, tugging on the bottom of his sweater. "Do I look okay?" he asks shyly. His father smiles down at him.
"You look perfect, son," he replies, ruffling his hair. Originally Scott had been terrified of the idea of telling his father that he was going out on a date with another boy, but Clayton had been very understanding and seemed completely unsurprised. "Just make sure you're home by twelve and call me if you need anything." Clayton is a lenient parent, preferring to give his son as much freedom as he possibly can, but as a single father he still worries. Scott smiles.
"I will, dad," he says. Clayton gives him a pat on the shoulder, and Scott wraps his arms around him-- tenderly-- for a hug. The G.I. Joe commander chuckles and nudges his son in the shoulders telling him he'd better go wait for his date.
Scott practically jumps down the stairs, taking them three at a time, and practically as soon as he hits the foyer of his house the doorbell rings. He answers it with a bright, nervous smile.
"H-hey," he greets, Billy standing there and looking incredibly classy. He's wearing a pastel blue dress shirt and black slacks and loafers, and Scott feels woefully under-dressed. Billy simply smiles at him, however. "So, uh. I hope I'm not under-dressed." he says, his voice small and weak with nervousness.
"No, no, not at all. I'm probably a little over-dressed." Billy replies with a little shrug. "Um-- you don't mind walking, do you? I mean, it's a nice night, and it's not far.. if you don't want to we can take the bus."
"I'm fine with walking." Scott says. He turns to wave to his father, who's slowly made his way down the stairs by this point, and his father waves back. Billy looks around Scott to give him a wave as well, but freezes when he sees him. Scott takes it as nervousness. "Ah, dad, this is Billy, Billy, this is my dad."
"Hi, Billy," Clayton greets. "I hope the two of you have a good night."
Billy smiles nervously and bunches up his shoulders. "Er, thank you, sir," he says. "It was nice to meet you. Scott, do you want to go..?"
Scott smiles, waves at his father and follows Billy out the door. The two start walking towards Main Street, only fifteen minutes from Scott's house. About halfway through the trip, Scott nervously reaches over and takes Billy's hand. The older boy looks over and smiles at him, stopping. They're standing by a wooden railing on a walking trail through a little park area, opening up to a small creek below.
"I'm.. really glad you agreed to go out with me tonight," Billy says, taking Scott's other hand as well. "I, uh.. I know this is really sudden and everything, but can I kiss you? I mean I know we're on our first date but we've known each other for a while now and I.. I really like you." Scott turns a brilliant shade of red and nods, biting his lower lip and tilting his head down but still looking up at Billy. The older boy holds his hands up and pulls him forwards a little, clearing his throat and tilting his head, leaning forwards. Scott looks up and tilts his own head into a more comfortable angle, and their lips meet for a few moments. When they pull apart, they're both bright red.
Billy wants things to stay like this forever. He only wishes it could.