guess you'll be the first arms dealer up for the nobel peace prize. laughter in the room. mccullen smiles, being a good sport.
mr mccullen, clayton aernathy, british army.
not hardly . you gave me a broad target, i couldn't resist.
your warheads. securing them in transit. forty pairs of ears in that room now know the when and where.
we both know what that's worth.
i've made a career of showing up where i'm needed, whether ordered to or not. and if your warheads are half as effective as you say they are.  then my unit is needed.
my unit doesn't need mission specific training. they're chosen because of their ability to handle any situation.
i didn't. i just said they were always ready. mccullen continues on down the hall. hawk gives cover girl a look, she reads it and nods. we smash cut to:
state you name and rank.
my team just saved your life. now's the part where you say "thank you".
you must be.  ripcord, expert marksman, weapons specialist, jet
i'm general clayton abernathy. you may have heard of me, .duke. a glint of recognition flickers across duke's eyes, he nods.
that was my last job. i'm in a whole new outfit now. duke swivels his gun to breaker's head. breaker flinches.
hand over the weapons case son, and let us deliver the warheads.
come see for yourself.
welcome to the new pit! duke and ripcord turn to see hawk and cover girl walking out from behind the lights.
duke.
i've read a lot about you two.
matter of fact, i saw that one of my subordinates tried to recruit you to our little operation a while back.
remember a tall gentleman approaching you in thailand when you were on leave, four years ago?
right before you tore up the bar?
okay, you trusted me by going with my team, so i'll trust you. there's a loud metallic clang and part of the platform begins to descend. they pass the urban combat level where men and women are training with next-gen urban warfare equipment.
technically, gi joe doesn't exist. but if it did, it'd be comprised of the top men and women from the best military units all over the world. the alpha dogs.  they see a pretty woman sip into a next-gen camo-suit, which reflects and refracts light, making her nearly invisible.
ten nations signed on in their first year. working together, sharing intel. now we have twenty- three.
good news is we've been pretty successful so far. the bad news is whenever we manage to shut down one organization, another springs up in its place.
patch him through, please.
we're going to need to find out everything we can about her. knowing is half the battle.
gentlemen, this is james mccullen, ceo of mars industries, the man who built these warheads. we intercut this scene with mccullen standing in front of a holo-cam in a small room somewhere. the holographic images of hawk, duke, and the others around him.
that's not a fair assessment. he followed his orders to the letter.
apologizes, mr mccullen. it's not that i don't trust you. i don't trust anybody.
i don't talk smooth enough to be a mccullen.
i think it unwise to expose them at the moment. this group might make another attempt.
we need to find and neutralize them before we can consider moving your weapons.
what's the code? on duke, listening carefully.
we have access to any photograph on any server anywhere in the world.
from nato. i am now the official custodian of the warheads. your mission is complete. once you hand it over, that is. duke nods, hands over the case with a hint of defeat.
and your point is?
you don't ask to be a part of gi joe. you get asked.
i've lost men too, captain. good men. but attempting to--
excuse me?
before this goes any further, i need to know what i'm dealing with, a man looking to settle a score, or a man who can put the mission first. because the battlefield is the wrong place for emotion. could you kill her?
chances are you will. but if you flinch, hesitate even an instant.  what i'm trying to say is, unless you can kill her graveyard dead i don't want you.
so tell me about her.
duke, you scored in the top half- percent of all people we've ever tested. rip, well, if we average your scores with duke's, you pass too. welcome aboard, provisionally. but we still need to see if you pass muster in the field. hawk gives them a nod. duke and rip nod back with pride.
that's all right, cover girl. what am i signing now? cover girl gasps, a katana blade piercing out through her chest. she drops lifelessly, revealing storm shadow behind her. hawk grabs a pistol, but storm shadow flashes his two swords. one slices the barrel of the pistol clean off, the other buries itself in hawk's gut. hawk collapses. ana steps forward and rips the general's security badge off his jacket. hawk's eyes follow them as they leave. he glances at a red button under his desk and struggles to reach it, giving everything he's got, until he finally hits the button.
can you kill her? and then we flashback to: ana strangling scarlett, a smile on her face. squeezing harder, harder. pure evil.
the french government is allowing you to leave on the condition that none of you ever return. other agencies will be handling this from here on.
the heads of state of every member of gi joe are recalling their operatives. we are now considered a rogue unit, uncontrollable. shut down. we're to report to washington for debriefing. hawk rolls his wheelchair to the door.
i said you were to report to washington. i didn't say when, or which route to take.
with gi joe reinstated, would you boys like to stay on awhile?