The large stone building stood out from every other one in the area, for this one had drawn attention. The attention of the Los Angeles Police Department, that is. Two police helicopters circled the scene, as well as a half a dozen different media choppers buzzing through the air. Through the narrow slits of the tinted windows, Jace Derricks could see reporters and a barricade of police cars with uniformed cops sprawling the scene. He glanced over to the small twelve inch flat-screen television, and shook his head at what he saw and heard.

“Only forty minutes ago, about a dozen well-armed men stormed the building you see behind us. There were several shots fired from within the building, as well as they open firing at the police seen behind me. One uniformed LAPD officer is now confirmed dead. This is Vince Johnson, reporting live,” a reporter said on the television set.

“Why the hell the public has to know more than us on every single bloody operation is beyond me!” Jace said and stood up fixing his flak jacket into place on his chest.

“It’s how it works boss. They have to know more, in order to make us mad and our job harder,” Kerry responded, as he too, stood up. The SWAT team’s quarters in the small black van that they operated from, were cramped, barely enough legroom for them to sit down and gear up.

“Okay team, listen up. This is how it goes. A dozen or so hostiles infiltrated this building, capped everyone inside and are apparently making a dealing of some sorts here. This is Jonathon Lyles, boys,” Jace informed them, as they huddled over a table. That name was famous to them, very famous. Jonathon Lyles was notorious to all SWAT teams throughout the nation, but had a recent history in LA. He was a famous crime lord around the country, and the GI Joe team believed he had ties to Cobra. This man was a very dangerous one to encounter, and would never be easy to get to. “This how we tackle this one. Warren, Morris, and Kerry take to the side door. Blast it through and toss some flashbangs. Enter in under the cover of smoke. As soon as we hear the bangs go off, Barnhardt will take the front door down, one shot. As soon as Barnhardt’s open my door for Lyger and me, we’ll move in. The bangs will take ‘em off their game and we’ll have the avail. DaSuuner, you have to position yourself across the street. What are you packing?” Jace asked his sniper.

“Fifty cal, sir. I’ve got a thermal scope as well, so I can give you the layout of where the baddies are located. I figured I’ll need to punch through some walls,” he said.

“Good thinking. Does everyone understand the plan?” Jace asked, as he opened up long black case.

Inside was a Heckler and Koch fixed-stock MP-5A5 sub-machine gun. His threads showed his commandership of the SWAT team. His pants were modeled white and black camouflage with a blue Kevlar vest over a black undersuit. He held a black facemask in his right hand and a blue cap in the other. He put the mask on and the LAPD hat turned backwards over that. He slung and MP-5 over his shoulders and made a quick check with both hands to ensure he had both forty-fives holstered on his thighs. Derricks opened the door of the van and DaSuuner quickly made his way out and to the building across the street. Derricks led Lyger and Barnhardt to the front door as Warren, Morris, and Kerry positioned themselves at the side door.

Jace’s radio comlink, which was stitched into his mask, crackled. “Sir, this is DaSuuner, and I’m on the rooftop. Precede to move in,” he said.

“Give the goods to Warren,” Jace directed, and raised his MP-5 in preparation. Barnhardt readied his hand-held battering ram.

Quickly Jace heard the explosion of the door go off, and the snaps of the flashbang grenades. DaSuuner came back on. “Sir, Warren’s moved. Go, go, go!”

In an instant Barnhardt rammed the door straight off its hinges, and threw the battering ram to the side. As he was fumbling to raise his Remington sawed-off twelve gauge, Jace was to protect him from behind. Derricks made a split second scan of the surroundings. The entrance for Warren’s team was filled with smoke from the smoke grenades Kerry tossed in. Jace saw five men staggering around, guns raised and occasionally firing randomly. These terrorists wore dark green fatigues, with a gray flak jacket on, and a gray combat helmet with a silver face shield. Signature to the ranks of Cobra Vipers were their forearm pads, these ones gray, completed their outfits. Each one held an AK-47 and let off occasional bursts of seven point seventy-two millimeter bullets.

Their only cover from the gunfire was the blindness of the Vipers and four large stone columns that held up the second floor of this particular building. Jace, Lyger, and Barnhardt dove to their own respective marble pillars for cover. Jace rolled to the outside of the column and let of three shots. The three rounds struck one Viper in the face, dropping him quickly. Brett Lyger, the SWAT team’s demolition expert, pumped a set of two-twenty-three caliber bullets through another Viper’s chest with his silenced AR-15. Derricks caught a glimpse of Barnhardt blast on Viper with his twelve-gauge, just as Jace squeezed off another three bullets to a Viper’s head. By this time, the smoke from the grenades had all but completely dispersed from the lower floor and the SWAT team was running out of cover.

A Viper raised his Klashnikov rifle and let off a barrage of fire and three bullets struck Morris in the chest and arms. He let off a yell and fell to the floor.

Jace’s comlink buzzed with Warren’s voice. “Man down! I repeat, man down!”

Derricks, or anyone for that matter, didn’t have time to check on Morris’ condition. Terrorists, who were no longer blinded by the flashbangs, were assaulting them. They were aiming their shots coherently now. Bullets were chipping pieces of marble away from the columns, lessening Jace’s cover. He swung to the side again, and dropped another Viper. Only one left. He stood on the landing of the steps to the upper floor, and it would be suicide to try to take him out. Jace yelled into his radio.

“DaSuuner! There’s a guard on the landing, drop him!” Jace yelled.

Eric DaSuuner tightened his grip on the massive gun lying before him, he looked through the large thermal-scanning scope, and he could the guard on the landing. He raised his aim a fraction of an inch and slowly squeezed the trigger, pumping a .50 slug through the brick wall and then through the head of the lone Viper, all but decapitating him. His limp body fell down the set of steps and hit the wooden floor with a sick thud.

The entire team moved into the room, backs to one another. They finally made small circle and simultaneously each one shouted, “Clear!” to denote their specific target area was clear of hostiles. Jace knelt down for a second to one of the dead Vipers; he ran his fingers over the red Cobra emblem on their heart. He got back to his feet and signaled DaSuuner.

“DaSuuner, come in!”

“This is.”

“Scan the second floor for us,” Jace ordered.

“One step ahead of you, boss. Already did. There is a guard standing at the top of the steps, as well as three to the left-hand rear of the room. A fourth is by the window and a fifth is next to the far right wall. There’s a seventh man kneeling on the floor. Force some of them up my way, and I can pick my targets,” he said.

“Will do,” Derricks said. “Team, move to the steps. DaSuuner, on my mark. Take the guard at the top of the steps,” he added.

“Gotcha,” DaSuuner said, readying himself for the shot.

“One. Two. Three!” Jace said, and as soon as “three” was shouted over the airwaves, a fifty-caliber bullet pierced the guard closest to the steps, dropping him to the floor.

“Warren, now!” Jace commanded. On his order, Johnson Warren threw two flashbangs up the steps. The bangs went off and Lyger bolted up the stairs. Jace leaped from the seventh step up to the floor above him, and threw himself forward into a commando roll.

Eric DaSuuner lay strolled out with the .50 in front of him. The gun was just massive, almost five and a half feet long. Suddenly, DaSuuner heard a sound that he knew was trouble. It was a helicopter, which meant problems because the police specifically ordered no choppers in the air as soon as the SWAT team went in. He rolled on his back and gazed up at the bright sky, only to see a large blue helicopter circle overhead and hover about ten feet from the ceiling. A large red Cobra emblem was painted on the side of it. This was no easy ‘copter to buy either, DaSuuner noted, it was a blue UH-60 Blackhawk with slight modifications as it would appear. Suddenly, he watched in horror as the chopper let loose a barrage of fifty caliber fire from one of the two side guns. Bullets sliced into the ceiling of the building he was on, while DaSuuner looked for cover.

He rolled to the left and unhitched his backpack. He shuffled through the different materials until he found what he was looking for. He pulled out a folded up sub-machine gun and unfolded the stock. He placed a clip into the horizontal magazine and cocked the Bizon-2. He quickly attached a suppressor onto the muzzle of it and then crawled over away from his bag. DaSuuner stood up and let loose a string of bullets at the large helicopter. The chopper spun and let loose another barrage of .50 bullets at him, striking all around him and forcing DaSuuner to recant his position. He now stood a mere three feet from the edge of the building, and drop was a broken-breaking sixty-some feet. He wouldn’t survive a fall.

Suddenly, the Cobra Blackhawk let loose a single missile from underneath the cockpit, which barreled down at DaSuuner at break-neck speed. He resorted to his only option and took a step backwards, falling off the building. The missile launched past him and crashed into another building in the distance, exploding in a massive orange fireball.

Jace Derricks raised his MP-5 and caught a Viper in the chin with it. He then let a burst go into the head of another. Lyger trailed behind Jace and turned around the banister to get a clear shot at the man kneeling down. Unfortunately for Brett Lyger, the man kneeling on the ground was none other than Jonathon Lyles, and he raised a compact SMG and let a spray of bullets go. Four bullets found their marks on Lyger; one placed itself in his throat. Blood squirted from him like a fountain and he tumbled down the steps.

“Lyger! You stupid sunuva--” Warren screamed and was cut-off by a hail of gunfire from his M-4 rifle. Two bullets struck Lyles in the chest and knocked him to the floor. They didn’t appear to penetrate his flack vest, though.

Jace Derricks pushed another series of shots through a Viper and rolled forward to avoid some gunfire. There were only four Vipers left standing, as well as Jonathon Lyles. Lyles made a last-ditch attempt to make his way to the ceiling of the building, by directing two Vipers as shields while he ran to the staircase. A third Viper followed him up. Barnhardt cut down the other two Vipers in one blast of his shotgun, and they all looked at one another.

Jace loaded a fresh clip into his sub-machine gun and looked at Warren, who was obviously distracted from the death of Lyger. Jace swiftly spoke into his comlink and said, “DaSuuner, they’re coming your way. Take ‘em out!” But there was no reply. “DaSuuner?”

“Son of a bitch. DaSuuner’s been compromised. Okay, let’s move. Go!” Jace directed.

Eric DaSuuner plummeted through the air at amazing speeds, and his life flashed before him. This was the end. That is, until he saw an awning hanging over a small balcony just below him. He shifted all of his weight and threw himself into the awning, crashing right through it and onto the balcony floor below. He winced and rolled in pain, clutching his shoulder. He knew he broke it, but at least he was alive.

Jonathon Lyles ran for his life, and turned to see the lone Viper get gunned down by Jace Derricks, who was on quick pursuit of Lyles. Derricks stopped to reload, when the Blackhawk lowered so Lyles could board. Derricks threw his MP-5 to the ground and drew his two .45’s. He let loose six shots and Lyles fell from the already flying away helicopter. Lyles struck the floor hard and lay there seemingly dead. Jace however, didn’t get a chance to check up on him, for as soon as he took a step forward, the Cobra Blackhawk circled around and peppered the ceiling with fifty caliber slugs. Jace rolled backwards, and found cover behind a large cooling fan on top of the ceiling. The shots became more and more harsh, and forced Derricks to dive back down the staircase for sanctuary. And as quick as hit begun, it ended, the gunshots quickly stopped and the sound of the Blackhawk’s engines were a faint sound. Derricks and the rest of the team raced to the ceiling to find the dead Lyles, only he wasn’t there anymore. Lyle’s body was gone.

“Warren, Barnhardt…go see if you can find DaSuuner. Kerry, make sure all hostiles have been taken care of,” Derricks commanded, re-holstering his pistols.

The small war that occurred in the building would seem to mean little. But in time, it would mean more than anything possible. This little incident, unbeknownst to the SWAT members or G.I. Joe for that matter, would prove to lead to a grave problem in the future.*

*A possible reference to The Serpent Wars, perhaps? Hmm…