Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own G.I. Joe. On that note, I also don't own any of the other copyrighted or trademarked items I'm probably going to mention.

A/N: I missed the very first scene of the G.I. Joe movie, so forgive me any inaccuracies.

Snake Eyes looked around furtively before darting up to the door of Room 115. After he knocked, he stayed coiled and ready to spring until the door opened to reveal Storm Shadow.

Tommy, you have to help me.

Storm Shadow looked blearily at Snake Eyes. "How did you find me here? I'm dead," he said after a moment.

You're not dead. This is Omaha, Nebraska, Snake Eyes replied.

"If you ask me, Nebraska is pretty hellish," Storm Shadow replied. "It's strikingly hot in the summer, deadly cold in the winter, there's nary a tree in sight, and it's as far from the ocean as you can possibly get. Whatever that is, I wouldn't call it heavenly."

I need your help.

"You realize that I hate you," Storm Shadow said, glaring at Snake Eyes.

Your pajamas are ruining the effect, Snake Eyes said. Also, I'm being chased by Mary Sues.

"You'd better come in."

Storm Shadow whisked Snake Eyes in the door and locked the deadbolt.

"So, Snake Eyes, explain to me how you've gotten yourself a passel full of Mary Sues," Storm Shadow said.

It was the movie. Apparently, they thought I was hot, and that I was available because Scarlett was with Ripcord, and now they won't leave me alone. Snake Eyes shivered; he hated to ask a favor from Storm Shadow, but it was all he could do right now.

"Have they followed you here?" Storm Shadow asked.

They will have, soon enough.

Storm Shadow frowned slightly. "It's going to be quite the battle, you know. Mary Sues, especially Mary Sues in denial, can be toughies."

Where did you learn about them?

"I did some freelancing over in the Lord of the Rings fandom," Storm Shadow said. "So, when did you say they were going to be here?"

I left the last bunch back in South Dakota. They'll be here within the next 6 to 8 hours.

Storm Shadow sighed. "Well, unfortunately, the Buffy marathon just ended, and we have nothing but daytime television to look forward to."

Both men sat, thinking.

"I know. I'll tell you a story," Storm Shadow said.

That's an awkward segue.

"I know, but I have a really good one," Storm Shadow said. "Seriously, you'll love it."

What's it about?

"It's got action, adventure, espionage, men in tights, true love-"

Robin Hood!

"No. Better than that."

The Princess Bride?

"Nope. It's a story about a brave band of soldiers, battling against a force that would destroy them-"

The Matrix? Star Wars?


Snake Eyes looked puzzled.

"It's G.I. Joe, smart one." Storm Shadow looked annoyed.

But Tommy, I already probably know this story.

"Not like this you don't." Storm Shadow smiled.

"Klan McCullen, you are sentenced to be branded with a hot iron mask for being a traitor. Somehow, I don't think I'll need to elaborate." Lieutenant général Jean-Marie Moreau looked sternly at the Scotsman, who glared back.

"No! No, you can't do this to me. I have my rights!" Klan McCullen struggled against the guards who restrained them.

"Actually, you don't have any rights," Jean-Marie replied. "This is absolutist France. You have exactly as many rights as we say you do, and I say that you have none."

"Just you wait! One of my ancestors will strike you back!" Klan McCullen snarled.

"Monsieur McCullen, France is one of the foremost military powers in the world. Scotland is a backwater little country controlled by England. Somehow, I'm not terribly threatened," Jean-Marie said. "Please take him out of here."

"Just you wait! You'll get your asses kicked at Waterloo, and then we'll see who's laughing!" Klan said. "And just you wait until Germany gets to you!"

The courtroom went silent.

"Germany, you say?" Jean-Marie asked.

"Yes, Germany!" Klan said.

"You mean, the little cluster of states that all happen to speak that heretic Luther's German?" Jean-Marie asked. "The ones that aren't even a country yet?"

"Yes, that Germany," Klan admitted. "So it doesn't sound very threatening, but really, you're going to be sorry-"

"Monsieur McCullen, I think it's time for you to get branded," Jean-Marie said. "Take him out of here."

"Let's see who's laughing when Robespierre becomes your dictator!" Klan cried. "And when you have to go through five unique republics before you get it right!"

Jean-Marie rolled his eyes. "Monsieur McCullen, France is ruled by a king who was appointed by God. I would suggest holding your tongue – the Sun King doesn't take kindly to people who predict his demise."

Klan McCullen was dragged from the room screaming about the Maginot Line, and Jean-Marie turned to a nearby prévôt, Antoine Dupont. "Do you think the man will ever amount to anything?" he asked.

"If he wasn't the laird of some God-forsaken patch of Scotland, he would never have even been here," Dupont replied. "But sir, the whole iron mask thing smacks of a yet-to-be-published Alexandre Dumas novel."

Jean-Marie shrugged. "I had to rule that way, you know. Even though I would really have liked to torture the man to death, there's a continuity to be upheld."

Dupont smiled. "Of course, the continuity."