Summary: [SERIES]. Renegades. A series of humorous shorts featuring characters from both the Joes and Cobra sides. Various points of view. Chp. 1: What one thing can make Roadblock run for the hills?

Disclaimer: I don't own GI Joe: Renegades.

Rating: T-ish, probably bordering on M.

A/N: I enjoy torturing characters who take themselves too seriously. These vignettes are short snippets (500 to 1000 words) meant to be funny. Every and all Renegades characters are susceptible to my lameness. I could probably plant corn with these stories. Anyway. Enjoy.

~ Laws of Normality ~

Chapter One: Bees

Roadblock and Tunnel Rat lie with their binoculars to their eyes, gazing across the lake at the usual "covert" Cobra Command center. It is grey, indistinct, but with the Cobra logo emblazed across the walls on all sides in bright red and six foot high lettering. If it weren't for the egomaniac in charge, the Springfield Four would almost consider the logo a taunt at them that almost always, always backfires. Instead, they consider it the proverbial X that marks the spot. Prominent, red, six-foot high X's.

This morning, the logo confirms Roadblock's suspicions as they watch, marking each time a guard patrols and the movements of the staff. The lake that separates them from the center is peaceful, ringed by tall grasses and sonorous with water-loving birds, insects, and frogs, which also means that birds, insects and frogs constantly interrupt the human spies with various activities such as eating, pooping, and egg-laying. Add to that humidity so thick Roadblock had sweated through his jumpsuit two seconds flat as soon as he stepped out of the truck's air-conditioned haven. Add to that Tunnel Rat's seemingly encyclopedic knowledge of all plant and animal life including those eating, popping, and egg-laying birds, insects, and frogs, and Roadblock feels three inches from hell.

Misery, thou art a cruel mistress, Roadblock thinks with an appropriate amount of self-pity. He drags his wrist across his forehead, but it serves only to speed up the sweat drops running into his eye, which cause him to rub uselessly at the stinging. There'd been summers in Biloxi like this as far as humidity is concerned, so you'd think he'd be used to this, but somehow remaining face-first in smelly sludge surrounded by wildlife serves to worsen his sweating.

"This is the last time I take recon duty with you, TR," Roadblock murmurs. He swats, and misses, a mosquito that sizes up the huge blood sack pulsing with delicious food. "You pick the muddiest, most infested places for this job."

"Are we out of sight or what? Oh, hello." Rat adjusts his binoculars and Roadblock lifts his to see what his friend had seen. Rat continues, "Thirty meters, south side."

Roadblock swings the binoculars to the correct coordinates, Mistress Misery (a.k.a. Mother Nature) temporarily forgotten, but she does not forget him. As Mother Nature gathers her forces- -how dare a mere mortal find this pristine lake muddy and infested- -a helicopter throbs into view. Dangling below its belly is a long rectangular shipment container. The helicopter lowers the container carefully onto the landing pad, unhooks the steel cables, and then banks around back out of view over the trees surrounding the compound.

Tunnel Rat lowers the binoculars in the helicopter's wake of silence. "Looks like what-"

Roadblock hears those three words before his hearing picks up a low buzzing. Under Rat's voice, he tries to place where he's heard the buzzing before. Not a mosquito…too low of a hum. Horse fly? Nope, not loud enough. The buzzing comes closer and still Roadblock tries to pinpoint what insect is making that sound, but as his memory clicks into place, the buzzing is lost in the other creaks, gurgles, and croaks of the lake.

Moments following, two sensations sear into Roadblock's brain. The creep and probe of tiny little insect legs on his bare arm and the smell of the sweet, white flowers he is positioned in, shoulder-high. Fear bubbles into his stomach, icy cold and nauseating. Mother Nature settles in to watch with grim satisfaction. She's seen Roadblock at his granny's rosebushes before, his weakness the same as many others before him, and for his ingratitude, she'll pry at that weak joint.

Back in the mortal realm, Tunnel Rat glances over after several unsuccessful seconds of waiting for Roadblock's response. What he sees burns into his memory forever. There is Roadblock, statuesque, eyes wide with terror. Rat's first thought is that Cobra got the drop on them and has zapped Roadblock with a stun gun, but there are no Cobras blundering through field and dale. Something else has happened and Rat feels the edges of panic fluttering in his stomach because the obvious answer isn't readily available, so what could it be?

"What is it? What's happened?" he asks, but Roadblock impersonates Snake Eyes. The silence, that is, not the ninja-ness. "What's wrong, man?"

Roadblock flicks his eyes to his arm. There, preening its antennae and forelegs, is a honey bee. Globes of yellow pollen have collected on its hindlegs. His panic dissipating, Rat grins in childish delight. "Aw, look at it! A bee! It must be after the pollen in these flowers."

A strangled groan escapes the large man's throat. Rat thinks he heard words behind the gritted teeth, so he leans in. "What was that?"

"Get. It. Off!"

Rat scrunches his brow. "The bee? It'll fly off in a second. Don't move." He wisely bites back a smirk when Roadblock's eyes cross. That is how close to his face his arm, and on it the bee, is.

No movement; not a problem, thinks Roadblock. He cannot move, cannot breathe, cannot live for fear of the venomous tiny stinger in the bee's ass. The bee seems content to remain on the dark brown mass. It is quite comfortable after a hard morning's labor for the Queen. In fact, it thinks, these lake-side flowers are perfect. The rest of the hive should be notified of them. After this quick rest, it'll signal everyone when it returns. The honey bee wiggles appreciatively. Boy, he might even be…what the hell? thinks the bee, as the ground suddenly shakes.

It's not the only one who thinks that as the lake echoes with a startled shrieking. The water-loving birds, insects and frogs goggle at the long, high-pitched noise. "EEEEEIIIII!"

From a distance, Scarlett and Duke glance up then at each other when they hear the little girl's scream of mortal terror. In dual consent, they draw their weapons and head for trouble, ooh-rah. Scarlett takes point, whipping through the trees, realizing this is the direction Rat and Roadblock had headed off in. Could be they're in trouble. She is about to radio in to the two, but abruptly stops when she hears movement- -she signals Duke, and they both slam behind trees for cover. They wait.

Not long after, the movement is identified as more of a crashing through underbrush. Twigs snap, branches crunch, as plants are mowed down from a large body in destructive motion. Scarlett strains her eyes and ears at the thick trees and wonders if it is a berserker bear on the loose. Or are there elephants stampeding? Perturbed, she glances upwards, hoping but disappointed. Snake Eyes' oneness with nature would've useful right about now.

"EEEEEIIIIIII!" shrieks the little girl again, but it is closer, coming toward them over the crunch-snap-crash resonating through the forest thicket.

Scarlett's brain churns. Is it some monster Cobra concocted to trick them? If it is Cobra, she thinks, they'd better be ready for a fight. She levels the plasma crossbow toward the racket; in her peripheral vision, she sees Duke mirror her movements. Synced, they rest their fingers on the triggers and wait. Then from the tree line barrels the…Roadblock?

Startled, Duke and Scarlett lower their weapons and step from cover, waving at Roadblock. Their mistake. Quickly, it dawns on them that he is not slowing and 400 pounds of muscle will break every bone in their combined bodies if they do not move. Scarlett dances backwards, huddling up against a tree trunk like a squirrel and watches as Duke recovers from the dive he took out of the way. They've just made it. Roadblock thunders past, hands and arms flailing around his head as he blindly stampedes onwards.

"EEEEIIII! EEEEIIII!"

Behind him is a path of broken and trampled nature, and wryly, Mother Nature concedes that the petty vengeance was fraught with danger to herself. She hadn't realized just how much damage could be inflicted. Scarlett and Duke, however, are perplexed at what could've panicked unflappable Roadblock, who singlehandedly clobbered a dozen Cobra flunkies, who selflessly did some other notable stuff that comes to their minds, until Rat saunters out of the Roadblock-sized hole in the foliage.

"What's up with Roadblock?" asks Duke. He looks after the hurtling figure disappearing from view. It doesn't look like the big guy will stop any time soon.

Rat shrugs, infuriatingly casual given the circumstance. "Bees," he says, tone mild. Then he continues walking toward camp.

A/N: I'll be updating sporadically with these. I have several ideas brainstormed, but when and at what speed a type will vary. Next up: Sometimes Tunnel Rat can't help what he crawls through. Until next time. =)