Pete's Expert Summary
My human has brought another piece of plastic into my domain. This one is a small, rigid man they call "Duke," apparently some sort of soldier from a bygone era meant for display. He comes with an arsenal of ten tiny plastic bits—a helmet, a pack, various implements of no doubt trivial importance—that are practically begging to be batted under the heaviest piece of furniture in the house. The creature itself is said to be "highly poseable," but let's be honest, the only pose that matters is "on the floor after I've pushed it off the shelf." It seems this is yet another object designed for the human's visual satisfaction, offering me, a being of refined taste and action, absolutely nothing of value beyond the momentary thrill of knocking it over. A complete waste of my energy, unless those accessories prove to be exceptionally skittery on the hardwood floors.
Key Features
- YO JOE! G.I. JOE EXPLODES INTO A LARGER-THAN-LIFE ERA WITH 6 INCH ACTION FIGURES: The G.I. Joe Classified Series evolves the retro toy fans know and love into a highly articulated 6-inch (150 mm) scale with premium deco and detailing
- CLASSIC DUKE-INSPIRED DESIGN: Features a classic deco and design of the G.I. Joe First Sergeant that fans of the original 1980s G.I. Joe characters will love and 10 accessory pieces inspired by the character’s rich history
- HIGHLY POSEABLE WITH PREMIUM DETAILING: G.I. Joe Classified Series Duke action figure set features exceptional detailing and articulation for cool poseability to create dynamic dioramas (some poses may require additional support)
- CLASSIC-CARDBACK INSPIRED PACKAGING: This Duke comes on a blister pack card with design and character art inspired by the classic Real American Hero figure line that is perfect for display
- EXPAND YOUR COLLECTION: Look for other G.I. Joe figures and toys to build your roster of heroes and Cobra villains (Each sold separately. Subject to availability.)
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The operation began at dusk, as the last rays of sun vacated my favorite spot on the rug. The human had positioned the target, codenamed "Duke," on the mahogany desk, a silent, sand-colored sentinel guarding a stack of pointless papers. An intruder. From my observation post on the armchair, I analyzed his posture—stiff, unyielding, a mockery of true predatory grace. His mission was unclear, but his presence in my territory would not stand. It was time for an interrogation. With a leap that was both silent and magnificent, I landed on the desk. The plastic soldier did not flinch. His painted-on eyes stared blankly past me, a classic counter-surveillance technique. I respected his resolve, but it would not save him. My first move was a soft, probing pat with a single, unsheathed claw against his helmet. It popped off with a pathetic little click and tumbled onto the desk. A swift nudge of my nose sent it skittering over the edge and into the darkness below. One piece of intel secured. Still, he said nothing. This one was a professional. I moved on to his primary weapon, a small black rifle clutched in his plastic fist. Prying it loose required more finesse. I nudged it, batted it, and finally applied a gentle but firm tooth. It came free. I paraded it in my mouth for a moment before dropping it to join the helmet in the void. One by one, I liberated his gear—a backpack, a strange-looking sidearm, a pair of night-vision goggles that were an insult to my own superior night vision. Each successful extraction was a small victory, yet the prisoner remained stoic, his "cool poseability" a form of silent defiance. When he was stripped of all ten accessories, I was left with a simple plastic man, unarmed and unburdened. He had not cracked. He revealed no secrets of the "G.I. Joe" organization, nor did he beg for mercy. I sat back on my haunches, grooming a stray bit of gray fur, and rendered my final judgment. As a source of information, he was a failure. But as a multi-part puzzle box designed for a master of strategic relocation, he was a resounding success. He was a worthy, if silent, adversary. He could remain, for now. His gear was safely archived under the desk, and I would be waiting for his inevitable resupply.
