G.i.joe: 2

Then the world turned to fire. Three months later, Marvin Hinton—Roadblock—stood in a dusty Kabul back alley, no longer a Joe, just a ghost. The surviving members of his unit fit in one safe house: Lady Jaye, sharp as broken glass, and Flint, whose jaw stayed clenched so tight it could crush diamonds. The world thought G.I. Joe was dead. Framed. Erased by a U.S. President who wasn't a man, but a mask—Zartan, the master of disguise.

Flint looked at the rising sun. “What now? The team’s still a ghost.”

“You’re late, ninja,” Lady Jaye whispered.

Roadblock and Lady Jaye breached the cliffside armory while Flint caused a diversion using a hijacked Cobra HISS tank. Inside, the halls were a cathedral of chrome and cruelty. Storm Shadow, freed from his blood debt to Zartan, moved in the shadows—but not as an enemy. A flick of his wrist, and a Cobra Vipers fell with a silent shuriken in his throat. g.i.joe 2

The Himalayan wind howled, but it couldn’t drown out the sound of helicopters. Not the friendly thrum of a Joe transport—but the whup-whup of Cobra’s modified Fangs.

“I brought a gift,” he replied, nodding toward a cell door.

Zartan pulled a sidearm, aiming for Roadblock’s exposed neck. Then the world turned to fire

Roadblock stepped out of the smoke, dual heavy machine guns roaring.

“That’s for Duke,” Roadblock said, the shell casing clinking on the floor. As dawn bled over the Pacific, the surviving Joes stood on the fortress’s broken landing pad. No fanfare. No medals. The world would never know how close it came to the edge.

“Retaliation,” Roadblock said, “is just the beginning.” The world thought G

“Yo, Joe!” he bellowed.

He looked at the horizon—where he knew a Cobra Commander, somewhere in hiding, was already scheming.