GI JOE Season 3: episode 2

“Invincible Shield”

Chapter 1

GI JOE Headquarters – November 1, 1989

...tick...tick...tick...tick...

The sound of the wall-clock had become deafening as the hours droned on for the finance clerk. Only the scratching of her pencil, as it glided across the form, provided relief. She was forced to stop writing, however, when the tip of her lead broke. As she reached in her desk drawer to get her sharpener, a katydid on the windowsill across the room distracted her. As she turned the pencil against the blade, she watched the bug crawl back-and-forth along the ledge of the open window. A smile came across her face. The blade of the sharpener, the chirping of the katydid and the ticking of the wall-clock made for a unique harmony: a harmony that can only be appreciated by boredom. She reached into her desk again, this time grabbing a rubber band. She stretched the band between her thumb and index finger and took aim. The projectile shot across the room when she released it – knocking the unsuspecting bug out of the window. It then deflected off the pane and ricocheted back across the room and into the clerk's waiting hand. She replaced the rubber band and finished sharpening her pencil.

...tick...tick...tick...tick...

It was a welcome distraction, but she was eager to get back to her reports: not for the sake of the paperwork, but rather for the refuge from the quiet din that putting pencil to paper offered. Given the choice, she would much rather be going through one of BeachHead's all-day PT sessions. She was wired for moving around; not sitting behind a desk all day. When she finished the last page, she picked up her pen and signed it. After time-stamping the report and placing it in her out-box, she glanced at the wall clock – she couldn't believe that with all her work finished, that there was still three hours left in her workday. She looked back-and-forth between the wall-clock and her wristwatch to confirm that the time was accurate and that the second hand was indeed moving in proper one-second intervals. She rested her chin in her hands and let out a sigh - blowing back a tuft of hair that had fallen in her eye.

...tick...tick...tick...tick...

In the interim, she decided to re-organize her desk – again. Unfortunately, everything was already in place and could not be optimized further - everything except her nameplate. She noticed it was set slightly askew from the edge her desk. She picked up the plaque and wiped the dust off with her sleeve. With her fingertip, she traced the outline of the letters that spelled her name:

CPL. KIMIKO AKAMATSU

It was a designation indicative of the formal atmosphere exercised in the office where she now worked. Given the choice, she preferred to be called by her GI JOE code-name:

“Jinx!”

Startled, Jinx looked up from her nameplate to see Amy, the office manager, struggling with boxes of office supplies. Jinx's muscles tensed as she bolted from her desk; she moved swiftly to the counter that separated her from Amy. Her body, hungry for exertion, involuntarily vaulted over the counter with undue vigor. She landed, effortlessly, next to Amy and caught a box of toner that fell from Amy's arms inches before it hit the floor.

“I...uh...thanks,” said Amy, in astonishment.

“You're welcome,” said Jinx, as she placed the toner on the counter-top. She blushed when she saw Amy's reaction to her acrobatics and added, “...Girl Scouts.”

“Oh...” she said, apparently satisfied with the explanation. She placed her box next to the toner on the counter.

“You shouldn't try to carry so much at one time.”

“You're right,” Amy replied. “But you know Lt. Jenkins' philosophy about being efficient.” She opened the box and pulled out a stack of envelopes. “I've just been swamped today, and I still have to mail out these disbursements...”

Jinx raised an eyebrow, as if an opportunity had suddenly presented itself. She watched thoughtfully as Amy thumbed through envelopes, “Why don't you let me deliver those for you?”

“I don't want you to go through all that trouble.”

“No trouble at all,” she said, with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I have to go to Hawks office anyway to get him to sign off on some paperwork – efficiency right?”

“Right,” Amy said. She smiled in appreciation as she handed Jinx the envelopes and a delivery log.

Jinx collected the rest of the paperwork in her out-box and made her way to the exit. She was careful to keep an outward appearance of indifference; inwardly, however, she was glad to get out of the office for a change. When she opened the door to leave, she made sure to close it quietly behind her so as not to draw attention from Lt. Jenkins - whose office was situated near the exit. It wasn't because what she was doing was dishonest, but rather because she wasn't prepared to justify leaving her desk in the middle of the workday to run ancillary errands. The door closed without a sound. She released the doorknob slowly and the latch engaged with a quiet but audible 'click'. She looked into the frosted pane to see if anyone noticed her departure inside. Her eyes focused on the letterhead printed on the glass:

Special Branch - 261st Finance Brigade

Satisfied that she was clear, she made her way down the hall and to the elevators leading to the common area. If she planned her route just right, she could kill at least two hours before going back. She let out a sigh as she let her thoughts wander: she now felt content like the locust on the windowsill – for now time was no longer an enemy.

o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o

She left the common area and walked outside on the path leading to building six - otherwise known as the Motor Pool. It was a bright and sunny day and Jinx looked skyward to take in the warmth of the sun. The administrative offices were kept at a nippy sixty-five degrees, so the heat of the day made for a comfortable transition. Further along the path, she noticed that Mutt and his guard dog, Junkyard, where approaching. As they passed each other, she gave him a smile and a nod of acknowledgement. She was put off when Mutt returned her greeting with a glare. Jinx shuddered and gripped the clipboard she was carrying tighter to her chest when she heard a menacing growl as they parted ways. She couldn't tell if the growl came from the man or the dog. She continued on to the motor pool; the warmth of the desert sun was starting to cause beads of sweat to form on her brow.

When she made it to the entrance of building six, she went directly to CoverGirl's office. She wasn't surprised that CoverGirl wasn't there: anyone who’s done a stint at the Motor Pool knew that CoverGirl spent most of her time in the garage. The corridors of building six, like the common area, were sparsely populated. As she walked the halls on the way to the garage, she realized how much she missed working here. She passed a corkboard when she turned the corner and paused to look at some of the pictures that were posted. The carefree camaraderie of the JOEs in the collage stood in stark contrast of the prim-and-proper atmosphere of the finance corps office. She was surprised to see that there was even a picture of her standing in front of an old HAVOC – she never was able to get that junker to work. Above her picture, her eyes were drawn to a somewhat larger photo placed in a position on prominence in the center of the board. The three JOEs in the photograph were posed lightheartedly standing in front of a MOBAT; presumably, the picture was taken right before a mission. According to the caption, the soldiers Clutch, Grunt, and Steeler are officially listed as MIA. However, from the short time she spent in the motor pool - amid the whisperings of her colleagues - she got the impression that the circumstance regarding their disappearance was more mysterious.

She continued lazily to the garage entrance just across the hall. Her eyes were still trained on the corkboard, so she wasn't looking where she was going. She came to an abrupt stop when she bumped into something solid. At first she thought she walked into the wall, however, when she snapped her head forward, she saw that it was RoadBlock. She gasped in surprise and dropped her clipboard. She felt embarrassed as it echoed loudly in the empty hallway when it struck the floor.

“Hello Jinx.” He reached down, grabbed the clipboard and handed it to her.

“Uh, hello Staff Sergeant. Sir.” She blushed as she took the clipboard – so much for her honed ninja reflexes.

“Just 'RoadBlock' will do kid,” he said, with a reassuring smile, before walking off.

She let out a sigh when he was out of earshot – it was odd to see anyone outside of maintenance in the garage during the day. With RoadBlock being a team's cook, he was the last person she would have expected to run into. She didn't bother to dwell on the incident further when she opened the garage door and was greeted by the familiar scent of motor oil and burnt rubber. She made her way up the main driveway, waving to some of the familiar faces she used to work with: CrossCountry, HeavyMetal and CrankCase. They all waved back, but gave her odd glances as they did so.

When she came upon CoverGirl, she found her busy working from the undercarriage of an AWE-Striker. When she "coughed" to get her attention, CoverGirl slid out from under the vehicle and sat up. She removed the scarf tied around her head so as to unfetter her full auburn hair – allowing it to hang freely. Her face and coveralls where stained with grease and oil. If Jinx didn't know any better she would have thought that every spattering and every smear on her person was placed there by design. Because, despite being imbued from head-to-toe in grime, CoverGirl looked absolutely stunning. That was just one of the many reasons why Jinx could not relate to the ex-model. There was just something about her that rubbed Jinx the wrong way. They were cordial enough to each other, but when Jinx first came to work in the motor pool, CoverGirl, in her own way, made it clear that she was the Alpha-Female.

“Oh, hi Jinx... I almost didn't recognize you in your DoD duds.”

It was then that it hit her: she forgot that since she joined the finance corps, that she was required to wear the same black ACU's assigned to the rest of the support personnel. That explained everyone's odd behavior: they probably didn't recognize her at first. She cursed inwardly; being the last of the rawhides, she had a hard enough time fitting-in without having to contend with the stigma of being a Blacksuit.

“Can I help you?” CoverGirl asked, with her hands on her hips while tapping her foot.

“Oh sorry,” Jinx replied, snapping out of her reverie, “I have a check for you.” She handed her an envelope and the clipboard.

“This is a nice surprise. It’s been so long; I've almost forgotten I had this coming.” CoverGirl signed the clipboard and handed it back to Jinx.

“'Reimbursement for damage waiver?'” Jinx said quizzically, reading the memo item on the clipboard. “Have you guys been taking the AWE-Strikers on joyrides again?” she asked with a grin.

“No.” CoverGirl said, dismissively.

“Well, sorry about the wait. We've been backed-up.” She hoped that CoverGirl wasn't offended by her previous comment. She meant it as a joke, but CoverGirl didn't seem receptive to her humor.

“Not a problem. We've been running behind schedule ourselves.” She took off her gloves and placed them on a nearby worktable before wiping her face off with a towel, “We have until the end of the month to finish de-milling our surplus vehicles before carting them off to Sierra Army Depot.”

“Oh? Do you guys need a hand? I have some free time after my shift--”

“No, that won't be necessary,” CoverGirl interjected nervously. “We've got it covered...but thanks.”

Jinx, interpreting CoverGirl's curt response as rejection, left without addressing her further - her anger increasing with each step she took. Every time she tried to reach out to her and be civil, she was reminded of why the woman infuriates her so. She was so upset that she didn't bother to acknowledge the rest of the staff as they waved good-bye to her.

Upon leaving building 6, Jinx headed for the training hall on the other side of the base. This time the heat of the afternoon sun wasn't as pleasant for her as it was the first time around. She wasn't following the most efficient route by delivering to BeachHead next, but she wanted to maximize her departure time from the grind of the finance office.

o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o

“Alright you mute maggot! You've had this a long time coming!”

Snake-Eyes and Sgt. Slaughter circled around each other. The soft mat that both men tread on creaked quietly under their feet. The combatants stopped circling and squared off. Slaughter stood with a modified kickboxing stance: his weight was evenly distributed on both feet, his arms were outstretched at mid-length, and his hands were slightly cupped palm-downward. Snake-Eyes, on the other hand, stood relaxed – employing no obvious technique; his arms were hanging at his sides and swayed - as if caught in a breeze.

Slaughter rushed him, closing the gap with ferocious speed. He got closer and closer until...he abruptly stopped his advance. The men were now standing less than two feet apart – the air between them was electric. Slaughter betrayed a grin of approval: when a man of his size charges, most fighters either make a mistake by reacting too quickly, or simply retreat in panic. Snake-Eyes did neither. He was still standing relaxed in the same spot on the mat – after all, he had no real reason to move yet.

Slaughter knew, of course, that Snake-Eyes was waiting for him to attack. Also, at the risk of over-analyzing, he realized that Snake-Eyes knew that he was itching to throw the first punch.

Since both men knew how this was going to start, that made for a simple equation: attack faster than your opponent can react. In this regard, Slaughter did not disappoint. He threw a blindingly fast lunge punch aimed dead center for Snake-Eyes' chest.

Snake-Eye's reacted by shifting slightly on the heels of his feet; turning his torso at a thirty degree angle. The movement was hardly perceptible, but sufficient to bypass most of the force. Before Slaughter could recoil his arm, Snake-Eyes dropped into a low stance as he entered toward Slaughter's exposed side. His chest grazed against Slaughter's arm as he leaned under the punch to deliver an elbow-sidekick combination.

Slaughter stumbled backward from the force of the kick. His brain hadn't registered the blows landed before Snake-Eyes retreated out of range. Slaughter smiled, stood up straight, and let loose a long protracted battle cry: the dance had begun. Slaughter came at Snake-Eye's hard – there was no strategy, just old-fashioned fisticuffs.

Snake-Eyes gave as good as he got; both men seemingly held nothing back. Slaughter set the pace of the fight by raining down an unending hail of punches and kicks: eventually one of them was bound to get through. When that happens, Slaughter would make his move.

Snake-Eyes was forced to go on the defensive by either dodging or deflecting Slaughter's attacks. The punches that he managed to sneak in merely bounced off Slaughter's dense musculature. The only thing that kept Slaughter at bay was the occasional well-placed fingertip strike to a vital nerve cluster.

As the minutes passed, it looked like a stalemate. Slaughter was unable to get past Snake-Eyes' defenses, and Snake-Eyes' attacks were seemingly ineffective.

In desperation, Slaughter raised both arms high (as if attempting a bear hug) and rushed Snake-Eyes with his torso exposed. As he hoped, Snake-Eyes found it too tempting a target to ignore and delivered a sidekick to Slaughter's open mid-section. In anticipation of the attack, Slaughter bore down and engaged every muscle in his torso. Upon impact, he exhaled and bucked his hips forward to push the force of the kick back to its point of origin.

When Snake-Eyes stumbled backwards off-balance, Slaughter saw the opening he needed. He bent down, digging his fingers in the matting, and pulled it out from under Snake-Eyes' feet. Instinctively, Snake-Eyes did a back flip just before the jerk of the matting would have compromised his footing. He alighted to his feet on the now exposed hardwood flooring, but Slaughter kept the pressure on by tackling him before he could square off into a stable stance.

As they fell, Snake-Eyes twisted in mid-air to keep from being sandwiched between the hard floor and 230 lbs. of meat. Both men crashed on their sides and rolled to their feet, but Slaughter managed to grab a hold of Snake-Eyes' arm and began the crank it at the wrist. Snake-Eyes dropped into an extremely low and exotic-looking stance with his free hand outstretched perpendicular with respect to Slaughter.

Slaughter readied himself in anticipation of some sort of ninja tactic. However, in an uncharacteristic display of force, Snake-Eye turned into his shoulder and tried to wrestle his arm free. In response, Slaughter re-asserted his grip and supinated the arm completely at the shoulder. Snake-Eye's arm was hyper-extended to its limit. Muscles and tendons strained; bone grinded against bone. Slaughter continued to crank the arm harder until...

TAP...TAP...TAP

Snake-Eyes gave the signal of submission by tapping the ground with his free hand. Slaughter immediately released the pressure and helped Snake-Eyes to his feet. The training hall was suddenly in an uproar – it looked like half the JOE's on base showed up to watch the fight. Half the crowd was cheering while the other half boo'ed loudly – apparently, the audience was evenly split as to who the victor would be.

“Now that’s what I'm talkin' about!” Slaughter said. He gave his training partner a slap on the back, “Thanks for the workout Snakes.”

o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o

Jinx had entered the training hall just before the fight and was watching in a remote corner when it began. This was the first time she had seen Snake-Eyes in action, and by all accounts, the rumors she heard of him being a ninja were true. However, the outcome of the battle left her confused. She decided to ponder the details of the fight later when she caught a glimpse of BeachHead on the other side of the hall. She followed him out of the room; Slaughter's booming voice could still be heard echoing from the hallway outside:

“Okay, which one you maggots is next?...C'mon you all have to go through me to pass your hand-to-hand...You think I'm too hard?...That’s nuthin' compared to what Cobra's gonna do to ya!...You there Lifeline!...I see you there hiding behind Lady-Jaye!...Come here milksop!...”

Jinx had since lost sight of BeachHead and struggled to catch-up. When she rounded a corner, she heard voices coming from a lounge across the corridor and decided to investigate. She came across a group of JOE's congregated in the center of the room. Amid the gathering, seated at a table, was Ace counting a stack of money. When she walked in, a hush fell over the crowd as they all stopped to look at her. When they recognized her, they eventually went back to what they were doing, but kept their voices low. On a TV screen in the corner of the room, she could see live video broadcasted from the training room. It dawned on her that someone spliced into the security camera feed (she was relieved to see that Slaughter was taking it easy on Lifeline). It was obvious from the setup that she walked in on a betting pool – no doubt over the fight between Slaughter and Snake-Eyes. She didn't know the names of most of the JOEs huddled around Ace, but she did recognize Slaughter's Renegades: Taurus, RedDog, and Mercer, who had apparently come to collect their winnings.

“Here you scurvy crop-duster,” ShipWreck said, throwing a pile of crumpled bills at Ace. “I hope you choke on it!”

“It's all good Hector,” Ace said. He bent down to pick up some of the money that had fallen on the floor and started to straighten them out into a neat stack. “I'm never too proud to take money from a swabbie.”

“That’s what happens when you bet on a loser,” said Taurus, as he waved his winnings in ShipWreck's face.

“Watch your mouth baldy,” Shipwreck spat back. “Sgt. Slaughter wouldn't've won if he hadn't cheated!”

“What do you mean cheated?” said RedDog. “The Sarge's hand-to-hand is unmatched.”

“I wouldn't expect you know about fair play RedDog,” ShipWreck countered. “You weren't known for that when you were in the NFL either.”

Jinx looked on as ShipWreck was now almost nose-to-nose with RedDog. When she was dating Falcon, she heard stories of the Renegade's ruthlessness in battle – with RedDog being the worst of the lot. She figured that the only thing keeping him from tearing into ShipWreck was the fact that a large bare-chested marine and a chopper pilot with a cowboy hat were standing behind the sailor. Similarly, Taurus had RedDog's back, however, Jinx noticed that Mercer, the third Renegade, was sitting quietly on a sofa - listening with curiosity, but opting not to take part in the “discussion”.

“...And since when does a ninja fight fair?” said RedDog. “It's not hard to win when you hide in the shadows to slit your enemy’s throat while he's sleeping.”

“Yeah, well I hope for all your loyalty that The Sarge at least gives you guys free reach-arounds.”

“Listen my friend, it's not like we're calling him a 'sissy-boy',” said Taurus, as he stepped between ShipWreck and RedDog in a placatory gesture. “All were saying is, all that ninja hocus-pocus is fine for the dojo, but in a real fight it’s nothing special...”

Jinx had become bored with all the machismo: there was so much testosterone in the room that you could cut it with a knife. It was obvious that BeachHead was not here, so she decided it was time to look elsewhere.

After some wandering, she eventually tracked down BeachHead standing outside the men's locker room. She was about to approach when she saw Snake-Eyes exit the locker room. When BeachHead turned to face him, it became obvious to her that he had been waiting for him. As a result, she decided it would be prudent not to disturb them by staying at a discreet distance.

“Hey, I wanna talk to you.”

Snake-Eyes stopped and turned to face BeachHead. He then started to sign at him. Jinx didn't understand sign language herself, but saw that it wasn't a problem for BeachHead.

“This won't take long. I see that Hawk has renewed your contract - against my better judgment. The old man has always had a soft spot for you and I never understood why.”

“...”

“Be that as it may, now that Flint is the Chief, that means I will be leading the majority of the field missions. I want to make sure we understand each other before things come to a head.”

“...”

“For starters, let’s talk about you throwing that fight with Slaughter...”

Jinx, felt her heart skip a beat when she heard BeachHead's accusation. Actually, the fact that Snake-Eyes threw the fight was not in dispute. During the fight, she could tell from his movements and the techniques used that Snake-Eyes was in full control the entire time - passing up obvious avenues of attack in favor of maintaining a stalemate. Rather, what surprised her was the fact that BeachHead picked up on this as well – without the benefit of ninja training. She was impressed with his adeptness and now saw him in a new light.

“...Passing your hand-to-hand is not the point. The point is that you bring that same mentality of 'holding back' to the battlefield.

“...”

“Not wanting to kill in cold blood is one thing, but showing mercy to an enemy that will not stop until he kills you is just plain stupid.”

“...”

“I realize that smart-ass! The difference with LifeLine is that he's at least honest about it; I know where I stand with him. You, on the other hand, need to either shit or get off the pot!”

“...”

“Well if you're on a solo mission, where it’s only your ass on the line, then feel free. But if you ever come under my command and I see that your antics put the team in danger, I will bench you.”

BeachHead spun around and walked away, not waiting to read Snake-Eyes' response. BeachHead's break-off was so sudden that Jinx didn't have time to duck back around the corner before he saw her listening in.

“Jinx, don't you have something better to do?” he said, as he approached.

“Yes I do,” she said, as she handed him his check.

“Housing Allowance,” he said, reading the memo aloud. He took the clipboard and signed it, “Are you bean-counters pinching stamps now?”

“Yeah,” Jinx said, rolling her eyes as she took the clipboard back. “Besides, if I had mailed it, I would've missed out on the opportunity to bask in your sunshine...sir.”

BeachHead crossed his arms and started to say something. Instead, he brushed passed her, bumping her shoulder, “Carry on corporal.”

Jinx smiled to herself in satisfaction when BeachHead left. She looked back in the direction of the locker room and saw that Snake-Eyes was still standing there. He looked at her for several seconds before he himself turned and walked away. Jinx hugged her clipboard tightly to her chest and left to continue her rounds.

o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o

The last stop on Jinx's route was General Hawk's office. She saved it for last because she wasn't particularly looking forward to it. Ever since she was demoted, there has remained a degree of tension between her and Hawk. Normally, she would have put the paperwork into his inbox; however, Lt. Jenkins had been bugging her all week about it, so she wanted at least to be able to say that she handed them off personally the next time he asked her.

She walked in Hawk's office and stood at attention. She kept her head facing forward, but allowed her eyes to wander around the room. The last time she stood in his office was not a pleasant memory for her. She recalled standing next to Falcon as Hawk was giving them both a tongue-lashing. Needless to say, standing in the same spot a year later brought back the same feelings of anxiety.

Hawk had his head buried in paperwork from the moment she walked in. He was aware of her presence, but he did not acknowledge her. Jinx continued to stand at perfect attention: the only movement she allowed herself was the involuntary blinking of her eyelids and the subtle rising and falling of her chest as she breathed. Fifteen minutes passed and he didn't so much as order her to stand 'at ease'. He was testing her. Satisfied with the exercise, he finally looked up at her from his desk.

“You have something for me, corporal?”

“Yes General,” she remained still until Hawk motioned for her to hand him the reports.

Hawk took the reports and looked them over briefly. Then he got up from his desk and walked over to his file cabinet. He pulled out a single manila folder and walked back to Jinx.

“Please return this to Lt. Jenkins when you get back to Finance.” He handed her the folder and sat back down at his desk, “...dismissed.”

Jinx saluted, did an 'about-face' and left the office - all according to regulation. The etiquette that she was taught in the dojo since childhood served her well in the Army. She relaxed once she closed the door to his office. In the reception area, on her way out, she saw that Snake-Eyes was waiting to go in next. As they passed each other, Jinx could feel the aura of his Qi as it collided with hers. She was compelled to stop as the energy inundated her being: it felt like her skin was on pins and needles. She knew he felt it too because he, likewise, paused in mid-stride when his energy pushed against hers. Her heart racing, she turned to face him. His Qi rivaled, if not surpassed, that of her mentor Blind Master, and it pounded her soul like waves crashing on a seashore. Snake-Eyes kept his back to her, but glanced at her briefly over his shoulder before continuing into Hawk's office.

o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o

Snake-Eyes entered Hawk's office and stood in front of his desk. Hawk was standing with his back to him as he stared out of his office window onto the grounds below. He had a single envelope gripped tightly in left hand. He drew the blinds, but continued to stare through them as if they were transparent.

“As I recall, I made a promise to you before bringing you into this unit. I stand with you today in this office to fulfill that promise.”

He walked around the desk and handed Snake-Eyes the envelope he was holding.

“We've found him.”

Snake-Eyes opened the envelope, inside was a satellite map and a picture of a man. Snake-Eyes' features were hidden behind his permanent mask, but the hiss he let out as he exhaled was telling of the expression he must have had upon seeing the photograph.

“When I asked you to join GI JOE, I knew you wouldn't refuse because deep down you feel just as responsible as I do about Cobra. However, I also hoped that bringing you back on a team – giving you a sense of purpose – would eventually fix whatever broke inside you back in 'Nam. If I knew back then that we would be having this conversation 10 years after the fact, I never would have lied to the Army to get you on the team.”

Snake-Eyes, seemingly oblivious to Hawk, never once took his eyes off the picture. Hawk finally got his attention by gently placing his hand on his shoulder.

“For your sake, I beg you to stop chasing after ghosts.”

Snake-Eyes looked at Hawk. His response was to crush the picture in his hand as he made a fist. He stormed out of the office. Hawk was left alone, shaking his head lamentingly.

End Chapter 1