“BRIDGE!” Flint yelled, sliding down the collapsing rock face.
A sound like a dying god filled the valley.
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. Gi Joe 2 Mongol Heleer
“Flint! Take the shot on the briefcase!”
But the woman, Almas, heard him anyway.
It wasn't loud. It was deep . A subsonic wave that vibrated Roadblock’s teeth out of his gums. The granite outcropping behind him cracked into dust. The cliff Flint was on splintered like dry pasta.
And Almas caught it.
Roadblock raised his massive .50 cal. “Then let’s go fishing.”
The camera pans to a map of the United Nations building, with a red dot over the Security Council chamber. “BRIDGE
The shadow speaks. “We don’t need the weapon, Doctor. We needed the noise . While the Joes chased the wind... Cobra stole the real prize.”
In a Cobra bunker in the Altai Mountains, Almas places the chip on a table. A hologram flickers—a face made of shadows. But the riders were not men