This fic is in response to a challenge from TinySprite regarding Cobra and Pie. Her fic is titled "Cobra Pie" so go read it!

Standard disclaimer: I do not own GI Joe nor any of the characters nor do I make any monies in regards to my writing. All stories are written in homage to the original series GI Joe: A Real American Hero.


Beachead frowned as his belly rumbled again for the fourth time in ten minutes. He'd been driving all day and grabbing a hot dog first thing in the morning hadn't been enough. Fueling the jeep was important and he needed fuel for himself as well. "Next diner..." He was ahead of schedule like usual, he wasn't carrying anything sensitive for the Pitt, just some car parts he'd picked up for CoverGirl, some sort of strange spices for Roadblock and a new set of night binoculars for LowLight to replace the set Beach had destroyed. The reports and captured Cobra equipment had been delivered up to the Army research lab and now he could take it easy on the drive back. And he could stop and eat. Eat a lot of something warm and filling preferably because he was starving. His stomach growled again and he cursed softly. "Next exit.. "

The next exit was bare of anything other than road, followed by four more bare exits. Beach was starting to get rather grumpy about things when a lighted sign appeared. "Snakehead Diner" Finally. He pulled in and parked, climbing out of the Jeep to stretch a cramped up back. "Damn.. I hate drivin'."

When he stepped inside, he was greeted with an array of wary stares. Looking back for a moment, he suddenly raised his eyebrows and reached to tug the balaclava off. "Sorry." He settled at the end of the counter where he could watch most of the rest of the diner. "Hey.. what's good and filling?"

The waitress poured him a cup of vile looking coffee and switched her gum to the other side of her mouth. "Nothing."

He sighed and picked up the menu, making a face at how sticky it was. "Okay.. how about.. steak and eggs.. and do you got pie?"

"Apple or cherry? And we got pumpkin but it's leftover from two days ago. Should be fine." She scribbled something on the pad in her hand and then reached to pour more coffee for the man seated closest to Beach. "Lenny.. you want pie or cake today?"

Lenny shrugged. "Whatever don't have rat tracks on it." The waitress made a face at him. "Cake."

Beach raised his eyebrows again. "Rats?"

"Kidding."

"Oh okay." Beach went back to sitting and looking around while he waited for his food. When the plate arrived with brown dry looking steak and greasy overcooked eggs, he just shrugged and cut it all up and ate it quickly. The man next to him swallowed the last of his coffee and dug out a few dollars to put on the counter.

"Alright Mae.. I got to get back on the road. Destro's lackeys get bent out of shape when shipments are late." He began putting a jacket on as the waitress gave him a smirk while collecting the money.

One of the other tables laughed sympathetically. "Yeah man.. get them Grenadiers worked up and they'll hold you all damn day over paperwork."

BeachHead turned to look at them with narrowed eyes. "Destro?"

Things got loud after that.


Breaker steered the Havoc into the half-full parking lot. "It's been twenty-four minutes since we got that alert from BeachHead. Damn I hope the tough guy held out. I hate to think we'll need to call in a medical evac because those dirty Cobra bastards took him down."

Roadblock shook his head. "Beach is tough, depends on how many of them there was against just him by his lonesome. Maybe he laid low and didn't let on that he was a Joe?"

There was silence for a moment and Duke looked over at the burly cook. "Really? Remember who we're talking about. Beachhead isn't known for being subtle." Duke gripped his rifle and barely waited for the Havoc to come to a full stop before he bailed out at a run. "Dusty, Flint.. take the rear, watch for any incoming! Scarlett and Roadblock with me!"

The Joes rushed in the front door and gazed around at the scene of destruction. Three sizable battered truck drivers were tied to a table with extension cords that looked like someone had ripped them out of appliances. A cook and two waitresses were sitting crosslegged on the floor with their hands tied in front of them, one waitress looking particularly murderous over the gag stuffed in her mouth. One last beefy-looking bedraggled biker was laid out on the floor with a chain attaching him to the deep fryer behind the counter.

Beachhead looked up from the nearly empty pie plate in front of him. "About danged time ya'll got here. Ah'm about to run out of pie." He ate the last bite and pushed the empty pan to join the other two.

Duke looked around again, in hopes that it would somehow make sense if he checked a second or third time. "What's going on?"

Beach hopped off his stool and pointed with his fork. "Well.. Mr I-Wear-Chaps over there tried to brain me with a chair. He's havin' a bit of a nap." The fork swung to indicate the three tied-up men. "Them guys decided that since it was three against one, they would kick mah ass. They was obviously mistaken." Finally the fork zeroed in on the staff, making the one woman try to shout through the gag. "And the line cook jumped on mah back when Ah was ropin' up the truckers.. the skinny gal walloped my kneecap with a fryin' pan, thank gawd Ah had on my kneecops or Ah'd walk funny the rest of my danged life... and Miss Mouthy there tried to stick me in the kidney with a danged servin' fork. Then she wouldn't shut up so Ah gagged her." He tossed the fork into the empty pan and burped. "They do make a somewhat decent cherry pie.. but the apple ain't nothin' to write home about."

Duke stared around again. "You're insane. You went up against over half a dozen Cobra operatives.. by yourself! Why are you eating?"

Beach shrugged and tucked his thumbs under his belt. "Well hell Top. Ah was waitin' on ya'll to get here.. ain't no reason to waste time when there's pie to be eatin'."

Duke shook his head and motioned for the other Joes to take custody of the prisoners. "I swear.. you must sit around plotting on ways to give me headaches."

"Dang it Duke... wasn't my fault Cobra had a diner in the middle of nowhere."

"It's NEVER your fault.. that's the problem!"


End

Sorry, it's short. Hope it was fun anyway!