/ G.I. JOE


Art by Huy Dihn

Art by Huy Dihn

I’ve been a fan of G.I. Joe (comics, animated series, and toys) since I was a child. So once Kindle World opened the option to play within the G.I. Joe universe, it became a pleasure of mine to take the vast amount of characters from the G.I. Joe world and pursue my own story.

The story I’m telling will slowly come about but I promise will have a good amount of twists and turns as it plays out. I would love to hear any and all thoughts and opinions as each story gets published.

The first book is $1.99, determined by Amazon. If it were up to me it would be $0.99. Therefore I am making a point to make each subsequent episode short enough to be priced at $0.99, yet still keeping the action firmly in place.

All of that said, the first issue is worth the read (if I do say so myself) and is a great walk into the breach that I am creating for G.I. Joe.

I hope you enjoy the ride. Links below:

G.I. Joe: Doomsday Protocol

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G.I. Joe: The Infiltration of New Springfield

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They couldn’t hear themselves yelling Speakeasy’s name over the sound of their own gunfire.

Shooter ran back to the others, she and Beach Head alternating three round bursts from her pistol and his rifle as they moved behind a rotting piece of freighter hull for cover, focusing on the area of the tree line they were sure Speakeasy’s assailant had fired from.

Firewall, on the other hand, had dropped her rifle, her nerves betraying her. She quickly snatched it back off the ground, getting the shoulder sling tangled under her foot as she did, causing her to drop the rifle again. By the time she had her rifle securely in her hands, butt against her shoulder, muzzle extended; the gunfire had stopped.

Beach Head yelled out “Reloading!” as he popped out his spent clip and slammed in another. Once he was done, Shooter took the moment to holster her pistol and level her sniper rifle.

“Cover me,” Beach Head ordered as he ran toward Speakeasy, covering the distance as rapidly as possible. Firewall’s rifle chimed in this time as she laid down covering fire while Shooter looked through her scope for something to put a bullet through.

Beach Head reached Speakeasy and grabbed his limp arm, pulling him back toward cover with the others.

Firewall checked Speakeasy’s pulse as Shooter removed Speakeasy’s pack of gear, including the combat radio, and tried to stop the bleeding. But five slugs in the heart was more than any man could survive. Firewall began CPR, nonetheless. As she tried to save Speakeasy, Beach Head grabbed the radio. He pressed himself against the thick metal skeleton of the inner freight wall and peered around to the tree line, where he expected the B.A.T. to be hiding…  waiting…

Beach Head barked into the radio, “Overwatch, this is Sandbox, do you copy?”

“This is Overwatch, Sandbox. Go ahead.” It was Stalker again.

“Tango encountered, Overwatch. It’s a Battle Android Trooper.”

Stalker mumbled some curse words of frustration before replying, “You’re not equipped to handle a B.A.T., Sandbox.”

“We have a man down, as well, Overwatch. It’s Speakeasy.”

Stalker was silent for a long second. “Is it bad? Can you stabilize him?”

Beach Head looked back to Shooter and Firewall. They had pulled out their med kits. Blood was everywhere. They had lost Speakeasy. Firewall immediately spiraled into tears.

“Negative, Overwatch, he’s gone.” Beach Head updated Stalker.

“This is a complete Charlie Foxtrot,” Stalker’s frustration having turned to anger.

“Agreed, Overwatch.”

“Scrub the mission. We’re going straight to Exfil. Get your men to the airfield.”

“Negative, Overwatch, the B.A.T. is somewhere close by. We can’t risk moving.”

“Understood. We’re two mikes out, Sandbox. Cover fire imminent. Paint the target and get your men ready. Overwatch out.”

Beach Head handed the radio to Firewall. “You heard Stalker. Get ready.”

Firewall just sat there, almost comatose. Beach Head grabbed her by the shoulders. “You heard the orders, soldier. Now get up!”

Firewall snapped out of it. She threw the combat radio onto her back and sloppily slung Speakeasy’s smaller pack of computer gear under her right arm before helping slump Speakeasy’s body over Shooter’s shoulder.

Beach Head pulled the pin to a smoke grenade and lobbed it into the tree line where, to his best calculations, the B.A.T. must have been. Reddish-pink smoke began filling the trees.

“Are you both ready?” Beach Head asked, the question meant more for Firewall than Shooter, as they listened to the distant sound of the Osprey approaching.

The rear ramp to the Osprey lowered, Stronghold manning the rear mounted .50 M2.

“Get ready, Joes!” Stalker yelled to his men, all hanging near the rear ramp to watch the show. He hadn’t seen a functioning B.A.T. in years. Hell, he knew Switchback and Stronghold had never seen one.

The Osprey’s intercom came alive with Chemtrail’s voice; “We’ve got smoke ahead!”

Stronghold firmed up his grip on the mounted machine gun, tightening his body and sure-ing up his aim.

The Osprey moved in low, dipping down toward the land-locked freighter. The reddish-pink smoke swirled around and into itself as the Osprey cut through, arcing upward.

“Cleared hot, soldier!” Stalker ordered as Stronghold yelled a “Yo Joe!” over the sound of the machine gun.

From below, Beach Head watched as tracer bullets launched from the back of the Osprey, ripping temporary holes through the reddish-pink smoke and slamming into the thick forest of trees.

“Go!” Beach Head ordered Firewall and Shooter.

Shooter moved slowly due to the added weight of carrying Speakeasy’s body, so Firewall stayed right next to her, partially in case she needed to help Shooter and mostly in case she needed Shooter’s help. They stayed low as they traversed the jagged volcanic landscape, dashing for the cover of the jungle.

The Osprey began circling counter clock-wise, Stronghold relentlessly firing until he ran out of ammo. It was silent for all of a second. Then one of the taller trees came crashing down, having been repeatedly ripped into by the .50 caliber.

Stalker patted Stronghold roughly on the back. “Nicely done, soldier.”

Bullets came arcing up from the jungle below, from the area of the fallen tree. Striker, Stronghold, and Switchback were jostled about when the Osprey’s left rotor engine was hit.


The piercing sound of a flak shell could be heard soaring up toward the Joes. Fortunately it exploded too early to harm them.

They were still up high enough to be safe, but that would change in seconds.

The shell came from the flak cannon mounted to the roof of the tallest high-rise in the city, also the Joes’ point of Infil. Two Battle Android Troopers, while surrounded by about a dozen support B.A.T. personnel were operating it.

Lady Jaye extended her arms, pulling herself out of her nose-dive, slowing her descent. That was everyone’s visual cue; Chuckles and Ana doing the same, while Roadblock and Sci-Fi continued rocketing downward, taking the lead.

Sci-Fi changed his angle of trajectory, moving him just out of the range of the next flak shell, and then pulling his ripcord, opening his parachute. He needed his first shot to be accurate, because it took too long for it to recharge.

The shell exploded in the gap between Roadblock and the others.

Lady Jaye, Chuckles and Ana punched through the dispersing flak, their jumpsuits getting torn here and there but otherwise okay – though not eager to do it again.

Roadblock spread his arms and legs, now slowing his descent as well. He aimed his M2 down at the rooftop and unloaded.

The distance to his target was still great, but so was his accuracy with that big monster of a gun.

Sci-Fi knew Roadblock was giving him cover fire, buying him time to get his laser rifle warmed up. That was the plan, after all. So he did just that, aiming his laser rifle down at the rooftop, pinpointing the flak cannon with insane precision.

Roadblocks rounds jackhammered chunks out of the rooftop, leaving pockmarks the size of baseballs. His bullets gouged holes in the bodies and heads of a handful of B.A.T.s, none of them smart enough to evade the incoming fire, almost as if they were dumbfounded by the assault.

Sci-Fi had the flak cannon in his laser rifle’s sight.

Lady Jaye pulled her arms and legs in tight again, launching past Roadblock, his spent .50 caliber shells bouncing off her helmet as she pushed right past him.

Ana, not willing to be outdone by a Joe, pulled her arms close and followed Lady Jaye in.

Chuckles joined them. He didn’t like this plan of Lady Jaye’s but this was the only plan that was approved by Hawk, and if he was going to get his family out of this town he was going to have to be a part of it.

The B.A.T.s extended their arms, aiming their wrist-mounted guns and returning fire: spitting volley after volley of tracer rounds into the sky.

Lady Jaye used the tracer rounds to predict the Androids gunfire’s migrating direction, allowing her to slip right past each bullet, each one inches of ending her life. She banked and side-winded through the never-ending batches of rounds.

Chuckles could hear the bullets hissing as they whizzed past his helmet in both directions – some from the B.A.T.s, some from Roadblock above him.

Ana hated to admit it but she was impressed by Lady Jaye. She had read about her and knew she was a force to be reckoned with, but what she was watching at that moment might have just catapulted Lady Jaye into deity status.

As some of the B.A.T.s were irrigated by Roadblocks seemingly endless supply of ammo, the others were still able to fire more flak shells into the sky.

Sci-Fi was ready to fire his laser rifle, but the flak was jostling him about too much. He had to bide his time a little longer. Wait for the flawless shot.

Lady Jaye and Ana successfully evaded the flak, while Chuckles was not so lucky. One of the explosions sent him spiraling out of control, his body twisting and turning in the sky. He was about to blackout and he knew it.

He pulled himself together. If he died here he wouldn’t see his family. And he was going to see his family.

By the time he regained his bearings he had started to fall behind Lady Jaye and Ana. For that reason alone he pulled himself together and dove back into it.

The fast moving trio was about to reach a low enough altitude for their parachutes to automatically open, which they knew that would make them sitting ducks if Sci-Fi didn’t take out the flak cannon before hand. But it was too late, their chutes opened – first Lady Jaye’s, then Ana’s, then Chuckles’.


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