Suddenly, the horses crested a dune. But the riders were not men. They were Cobra Vipers in heavy Mongolian deel coats, their masks painted like bronze death masks. Leading them was a figure wrapped in white fox fur.
Horseback? In an era of drones and railguns, Roadblock’s gut tightened. That was wrong.
“Snake Eyes, talk to me,” Roadblock grumbled into his sub-vocal mic. “Where’s the package?”
“BRIDGE!” Flint yelled, sliding down the collapsing rock face.
Snake Eyes appeared at Roadblock’s side, his visor cracked.
02:00 HRS (Local)
“That’s her,” Flint hissed. “The new Helix. Cobra calls her Almas —the Mongol Death Worm.”
Roadblock ran toward her, but it was too late. She leapt, grabbing the skid, the chip in her teeth like a golden coin.
Flint exhaled. Squeezed. The high-caliber round punched through the briefcase’s lock, but not before Khadan hit the Heleer’s activation switch. Suddenly, the horses crested a dune
Roadblock saw the satellite chip glowing in Khadan’s hand. He had two seconds.
Three hundred yards below, a Zartan-masked Russian oligarch named Khadan was trading a stolen U.S. satellite guidance chip for a weapon the Joes had only heard rumors of: the — The Calling Wind .
The fight was brutal. Snake Eyes’s katana met her shamshir in a shower of sparks. She was faster than he expected—not Storm Shadow fast, but wild fast, like a wolf cornered in a blizzard. She kicked a spray of frozen dirt into his visor, then slashed low.
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Suddenly, the horses crested a dune. But the riders were not men. They were Cobra Vipers in heavy Mongolian deel coats, their masks painted like bronze death masks. Leading them was a figure wrapped in white fox fur.
Horseback? In an era of drones and railguns, Roadblock’s gut tightened. That was wrong.
“Snake Eyes, talk to me,” Roadblock grumbled into his sub-vocal mic. “Where’s the package?”
The Chemer Valley, Mongolian-Russian Border
“BRIDGE!” Flint yelled, sliding down the collapsing rock face.
Snake Eyes appeared at Roadblock’s side, his visor cracked.
02:00 HRS (Local)
“That’s her,” Flint hissed. “The new Helix. Cobra calls her Almas —the Mongol Death Worm.”
Roadblock ran toward her, but it was too late. She leapt, grabbing the skid, the chip in her teeth like a golden coin.
Flint exhaled. Squeezed. The high-caliber round punched through the briefcase’s lock, but not before Khadan hit the Heleer’s activation switch.
Roadblock saw the satellite chip glowing in Khadan’s hand. He had two seconds.
Three hundred yards below, a Zartan-masked Russian oligarch named Khadan was trading a stolen U.S. satellite guidance chip for a weapon the Joes had only heard rumors of: the — The Calling Wind .
His white wolf mask saved him. The blade screeched off the ceramic.
A sound like a dying god filled the valley.
The fight was brutal. Snake Eyes’s katana met her shamshir in a shower of sparks. She was faster than he expected—not Storm Shadow fast, but wild fast, like a wolf cornered in a blizzard. She kicked a spray of frozen dirt into his visor, then slashed low.
