A Real Boy Now!

Log Title: A Real Boy Now!

Characters: Alley-Viper 301 and Cobra Commander

Location: Washington D.C. - The White House

Date: 9/21/2018

TP: America Burning TP

Cobra Commander sits behind the Resolute Desk in the Oval

Office. Behind him stand two almost-impossibly tall Crimson Guard

Immortals, flanked by hanging Cobra flags. The Commander himself is

wearing a red hood with matching red gloves, his crimson half-cape

thrown over one shoulder. Hovering in midair before The Commander is

a one-way holographic screen, showing reports to him but opaque to

those sitting across from him. Cobra Imperial Guard stand at each

entrance to the famous room.

Once allowed within, to answer the summons, Alley-Viper 301 has his

helmet on a hanger on the back of his belt, and his ballistic shell

hanging from his backpack, leaving the heavy features of the rugby

hooligan become S.A.S. and then ultimately a member of the Viper

Corps. Weapons left behind, he approaches, stopping a respectful

meter and a half away and salutes sharply, "Hail Cobra! May the Great

Snake reign forever!"

Cobra Commander looks up as 301 is allowed into the room.

With a wave of his hand he dismisses a few of the reports, leaving

only certain unseen missives floating to the right of him. At the

formal hail, his ice-blue eyes brighten slightly. "A traditionalist,

I see," he says with amusement. "At ease, Alley-Viper," the Commander

orders, although he doesn't beckon 301 to sit. "I wish to speak with

you about a number of things, including," the Commander glances at

the hovering report, "Norfolk."

Stance shifting, hands behind his back, feet apart slightly, the

movement is fluid and instinctual. At the mention of Norfolk, there

is the slightest tremor in him, almost a muscle reflex - resisting

the urge to recoil as struck. "An unfortunate set-back, sah." he does

not elaborate, he has not been bidden to after all. He waits to see

where the Commander will lead his questions, expression tight.

Cobra Commander studies 301 a moment, observing his reaction.

"Unfortunate, yes," he says at last. "However, it followed on

previous successes, and more importantly, it was a bold strike

against the remaining US forces." The Commander leans forward,

staring intently at 301. "I reward ambition and vision in this

organization. I will not punish someone for a well-planned and well-

executed strike that nevertheless does not go as intended. You've

shown a lot of initiative for an Alley-Viper, 301. Much more than

someone of your lowly station."

Alley-Viper 301's eyebrow twitches at that, pupils tightening as he

takes further notice of the Commander's choice of words. "No station

too low, sah. Every war needs mudders and muckers as much as it needs

games n'theory, sah." he uses his response as an opportunity to

breathe out as well, slowly, now that the threat of horrific death is

apparently off the table.

Cobra Commander leans back once more in his chair. "Well

said," he says casually. "However, I believe there is room for you in

Cobra leadership. You will be promoted to serve as an inspiration to

others. Choose a codename - I'm placing you in charge of the Alley-

Viper Officers. Gristle is unreliable and untrustworthy. You will put

your head for tactics to use broadening our stranglehold across Cobra

America - exactly as you have already," Cobra Commander chuckles.

"But with better pay."

Both eyebrows are up now and it takes a monumental effort for 301 to

keep his jaw up and his teeth together. He swallows, blinks, and

after a moment, "Thank you, sah!" old training settling in, turning

on the old 'stiff upper lip' of British heritage, "If you'll allow me

to wax poetic, sah, I'd take the name Bhargest - since I've managed

to serve as the omen of the FBI and CIA's demise, sah." he runs the

words through his own head, trying to make sure, after the fact, that

he didn't just mix up his own words. Looking to the Commander again,

looking to see if the man approves or not.

There is a pause, and then a chuckle and a nod from Cobra

Commander. "Yes," he muses. "Will you paint a black dog on your

shield as a sigil?"

Theres another moment of thought, a slight tip of the head to one

side, "Could eh, could 'ave a customization to my bucket as well,

sah." gesturing to the helmet hanging on his helt with a brief shift

of one arm. "Thank you very much, sah. I'll not let you down, sah."

The Commander nods again, and there is a smile in his voice.

"Are the BAT factories fully operational? How long until we replace

the BATs lost in the last operation?"

Barghest nods "Aye, Sah, they're functional, and the construction

B.A.T.s have been putting in more in D.C. and we're working on adding

others in our other territories. I've re-routed some of the metal

shipments and have' there's a distinct work to maintain his proper

London Standard, and not slip into his normal east-ender 'had the

recovered units striped and recycled. We should be at full recovery

within forty eight."

Set.

"Good, good," the Commander allows. "Excellent, even," he

says, placing his gloved fingertips lightly on the Resolute desk.

"Now," he says finally, "tell me about your plans for Compound Z...."

Nodding, Payton tips his head to one side, a tic from rummaging in

his own thoughts, "We took on a hefty number of casualties when the

Joes hacked the B.A.T. network, since there were flank gaps. I had as

many as I could recovered when we exfiltrated." No, no retreat, never

a word on his lips.

"Grabbed as many of theirs as we could to. Figure, we don't have

casualties then, we have recruits and soldiers returning to the

field. Same as all them CIA and FBI spooks that the Interrogator has

been squeezing for intel. Could get 'em ready for a proper spearhead,

or even as first wave shock troops, soften defenses. Better yet, I

figure if we cap a roof in some areas, and send them in through

maintenance tunnels, we can squirrel out the rats - from CIA cells we

know of, FBI enclaves, and mayhap even root out the Joes hiding in

our back yard." he takes a moment to let it sink in, "If you'll

forgive the appearance of my sayin' how to run the liberation, sah, I

feel it tactically sound to consolidate between D.C., Chicago, and

New York - put the Original 13 under our flag. Then we can

consolidate and push with renewed strength, after a healthy test run

of using Z-Vipers in field ops."

The Commander listens carefully, considering 301 - no,

Barghest's suggestion for a long time. "I see the value in the idea.

Confer with Major Bludd - he may be setting up a new base in a second

theatre and I wouldn't want you tripping over each other. In the

meantime, work up a plan - I want to see how this idea might work.

Dismissed, Barghest - you have a lot of work to do."