Zartan pulled a sidearm, aiming for Roadblock’s exposed neck.
Duke’s last command crackled through the comm: “Roadblock, get them out. That’s an order.”
Flint looked at the rising sun. “What now? The team’s still a ghost.”
Behind it, beaten but unbroken, was Snake Eyes. His mask cracked, but his sword still sharp. The final showdown happened on the launch floor of Zeus itself. The President/Zartan, flanked by the mountain-strong Firefly, prepared to fire the first rod—target: London. A show of force to make the world kneel. g.i.joe 2
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.
“I brought a gift,” he replied, nodding toward a cell door.
Roadblock picked up his helmet, cracked and scarred. “Ghosts can go places soldiers can’t. And Cobra’s still out there. We’re not done.” Zartan pulled a sidearm, aiming for Roadblock’s exposed
Snake Eyes and Storm Shadow moved as one—rivals turned brothers again—carving through Cobra’s elite. Flint traded blows with Firefly as explosives rattled the foundation. Lady Jaye, disguised as a Cobra officer, severed the control link to the orbital weapons with ten seconds to spare.
“One shot,” Roadblock said, racking a shell into his modified AA-12. “No backup. No extraction. We go in quiet, we hit hard, and we make them remember why you don’t kick a snake and walk away.” The assault was not a battle. It was a surgical nightmare.
Yo Joe.
“No,” Roadblock said, his deep voice like gravel rolling downhill. “They took our names. Not our skills.”
“Retaliation,” Roadblock said, “is just the beginning.”
“Yo, Joe!” he bellowed.
But Roadblock was faster. One round. Center mass. The President’s face shimmered, flickered, and revealed the rotting, yellow-eyed skull of the master of disguise.