Disclaimer: I don't own GI Joe or the other thing mentioned in this story. You'll know it when you see it.
I created some crack, hopefully you'll enjoy it. It's not logical, but my brain's rather warped at the moment. I won't be able to update any of my other stories until after May 1, so hopefully this will fill a little bit of a fanfic void until then.
Musings of a Desert Trooper
He stalked through the corridors, grumbling to himself as he passed a couple of greenshirts. The young soldiers backed slowly away from the irate sergeant major and did their best to not make eye contact. The grumpy southerner gave a snort and fixed his glare on them anyway. The two greenshirts gave him polite nods and went back to scrubbing the floors.
Nodding his head, Beach Head continued on his way. It had been a rather disastrous mission, one that had taken the lives of three of his greenshirts. Two more were severely injured and he himself had sustained a bullet wound to his left shoulder.
The mission had been simple enough. Cobra had been suspected of supplying weapons to insurrectionary groups in Syria, funneled through a front company operated by Extensive Enterprises. It was supposed to be a simple recon mission, or as simple as things got when Cobra was involved, anyway.
God damned Mindbender and his goddamned labs. Stupid, son of a bitchin…
"Beach Head, get back here! You're dripping blood all over the floor!"
Wayne Sneeden looked down to see that he was, indeed, dripping blood onto the floor. Figuring that he would save himself an earful from Hawk and the medic now glaring at his side, the ranger obediently stopped.
"I'm busy," the ranger snarled. "What do you want? The bullet's not even in there anymore." Lifeline rolled his eyes as he examined the still bleeding wound. The medic poked and prodded at it briefly before sternly pointing towards the infirmary.
"Back, now," Lifeline ordered. Beach Head obstinately crossed his arms and waited silently. As to be expected, his friend's eyes flashed with barely hidden irritation. The ranger smirked slightly at that. Harassing the slim medic was the highlight of his day, though the Apocalypse might befall someone else if he caught them doing it. Then again, Edwin Steen was fully capable of taking care of himself.
"You want me to put you on medical leave for a week?" The medic asked dryly. "It'll give you a chance to catch up on all the paper work you keep complaining about it."
"Try it," Beach Head shot back. He received an arched eyebrow in reply, causing the ranger to curse slightly. Edwin would follow through on that threat. However, if he did so Wayne promised to make his friend's life even more miserable for it.
"Fine," Lifeline replied mildly. "I'm sure Flint would love to have you out of his hair for a week."
"Don't play mind games," the ranger snapped, though he was now walking towards the infirmary with the equally stubborn medic. Wayne knew full well that his shoulder probably should be taken care of, eventually. It was better to get his friend's fussing out of the way first so he wouldn't have to deal with it later.
"Wouldn't plan on it," Lifeline told him. "That's Psyche Out's job."
The two men bickered back and forth for the next few minutes. Anyone else watching might assume that they could hardly be friends. However, the arguments themselves were benign enough…
"I swear, you enjoy making my blood pressure go up!" Edwin Steen finally shouted, throwing his hands up in the air. A certain ranger smirked cheerfully as he sat on top of an infirmary bed. Several amused chuckles answered the irritated medic.
"Cheer up Lifeline, he only does it 'cause he likes you," Dusty grinned. The desert trooper was remarkably cheerful, even though he was on bed rest for the next two weeks. Then again, he'd just received free entertainment and he'd be damned if he didn't take advantage of it.
"See, Dusty understands," Beach Head grinned. "If I hated you, you'd be a smear on my foot."
"Funny, I'm pretty sure Flint's still alive and well…"
"Shut up Dusty!" the ranger barked. The desert ranger dutifully shut up, though he still grinned from the safety of his bed.
"God…you're both pains in the asses," Beach Head grumbled. "Ah've got nanny medic on one side fussin' at me and you on the other…"
"Yeah, well if the laws of karma hold true, someday you'll get payback for all the migraines you've caused me," Lifeline told him, cleaning the shoulder with antiseptic. "If not you, then your descendants."
"Don't jinx us," Dusty groaned. "For all we know, our descendants may know his." There was a small yelp when Wayne cuffed the desert trooper upside the head. Lifeline spent the next couple of minutes sternly rebuking him, which he ignored. The medic grumbled under his breath as he began to stitch up the wound.
"You think our descendants will know each other?" Dusty asked after a while.
"The statistical probability is pretty low," Lifeline pointed out. After a pause, he added "It's a nice thought though."
"What do you think they'll be like?" the desert trooper asked, now completely taken with the idea. "Wouldn't it be cool if they worked together? Maybe there might be a couple of red haired ninjas running around too."
"Or one annoying ninja named Arashikage," Beach Head added. "The bastard's probably scaring people with his sword and enjoying it."
"Assuming that his or her name is Arashikage," Dusty pointed out. "It's the future…they might not even be ninjas or have that surname." The ranger gave another snort before finally shrugging his shoulders. The other man might have a point, but he was still convinced that the unknown Arashikage would be a raging terror with a mouth that wouldn't shut up.
"Dusty's got a point," Lifeline finally said. "We can't expect any descendants of ours to be exactly the same as us. For all we know, one of Dusty's relatives might be in charge."
"Hey, yeah!" the desert trooper responded. "Maybe my great great grandkid or whatever will be the sergeant major!"
"Yeah, and mine will be a damned medic," Beach Head drawled. "And Lifeline's here will be…." Be what? He pondered. A combatant? Whatever the future Steen was, the ranger was fairly sure that he, or she, would still be a sarcastic pain in the ass.
"Good," Lifeline replied. "Maybe Mr. or Ms. Sneeden will finally learn what I've had to put up with from you."
"Yeah, right," the ranger shot back. "All Ah know is that my kid's going to have to keep all the other danged pogues in line, just like Ah have to do now."
And just like that, the conversation ended with a few chuckles. Children would come and go, but the three Joes didn't think much of it. Once when they were together for a reunion, Dusty had pointed out sadly that there was as of yet no Sergeant Major Tadur to boss around any Steens or Sneedens. The elderly Joe, however, was still hopeful that it would one day occur.
Beach Head told him to keep dreaming.
He stalked through the corridors, grumbling to himself as he passed a couple of ensigns. The two young officers backed slowly away from the irate southerner. He considered barking at them, such was his mood at the moment, but settled for a piercing glare.
The two ensigns jumped and scuttled away as fast as possible.
Grumbling again, he continued on his way. It seemed as if everyone was conspiring to give him migraines today. One of their recent missions had ended badly, with several injured men and women now occupying sickbay. The friend that had been in charge of the mission was now stubbornly avoiding medical attention, despite all threats and warnings to the contrary.
Having to chase down the said friend and drag his sorry ass back to the infirmary was a pleasure the doctor admittedly looked forward to.
More people moved quickly out of the way as the Southern tornado continued on the warpath. Several minutes dragged by and the indignant fury in the doctor's chest grew. How dare he ignore him? Well, the damned fool was about to face the consequences.
The doors automatically swished open and the slim doctor stalked into the room. Men and women became eerily silent as they waited with baited breath, as if expecting an explosion. The doctor ignored them as he aimed his glare at the subject of his ire. Sitting sheepishly in the command chair was a sandy haired, Iowa farm boy. Sections of his uniform had been ripped to shreds and the doctor could easily see the burnt skin beneath it.
"You goddamned bloody fool!" the doctor bellowed, waving his arms widely. "How hard is it to answer a simple request to get medical attention?"
"Doctor, I…" the sandy haired man started, but he was ignored as the doctor launched into a tirade.
"What am I, a nurse maid?" the Southerner ranted. "Dammit Jim, Ah'm a doctor, not a babysitter!"
"It appears that you were correct, Captain," a different voice remarked dryly. "It only took two minutes for the dear doctor to make his way down here to chastise you."
"Shut up, you pointy eared hobgoblin!" Leonard McCoy barked. "Ah can't believe you didn't help me with the damned fool! Where's the damned logic in leaving a wound untreated!"
James T. Kirk, wishing to avoid further damage to his ears, finally decided that maybe perhaps he should finally obey and get his wounds treated. He waved his hands in an attempt to calm the other man down. All attempts failed, as the doctor seethed silently for a moment before launching into another loud tirade.
The captain of the Enterprise stared helplessly at his first officer.
"Ah swear, do all of you get together at night and plot ways to make me suffer?" the doctor continued to rant. "Gawd dammit Jim! It's bad enough that Sulu brought a damned sword into sickbay, just so he could show off to Nurse Chapel!"
"Alright, alright," the captain agreed. "You've got the bridge, Spock."
"Yes, of course," the first officer replied. "We wouldn't want to keep the dear doctor."
Leonard "Bones" McCoy glared irately at the half-Vulcan, who raised an eyebrow in reply. Glowering now, the doctor locked his hand around his target's arms, hoping to discourage escape. James Kirk sighed in resignation and allowed himself to be led down the hall.
"We only tease you because we love you, Bones," the captain told him, grinning widely. He received a sharp cuff to the side of his head and a loud yelp echoed down the hallway.
And thus the cycle continued.
*So who is whose descendant? Hopefully it should be evident, though I left some of them ambivalent. Sulu could be Tommy's physical descendant, or just a spiritual heir carrying on the tradition of annoying the Sneedens of the universe. Same with Spock and Kirk. Kirk could be Dusty's descendant or even of another Joe. Spock could be a Steen. I wanted to leave the possibilities vague so the reader could make the choices that they preferred. McCoy is really the only one that I clearly portrayed as a descendant of a Joe (in this case, Beach and presumably Cover Girl.)
Though I do like the thought of Sulu being an Arashikage, even if he doesn't know. According to the Star Trek wiki, he was born in San Francisco, which is also Tommy's stomping grounds. Perhaps Sulu has visited the Arashikage Zen Temple in Fresno that Totenkinder Madchen has created, as that is also near San Fransciso, the home of Starfleet Academy.