Page 102 of Boomer
Four levels. A helipad. A pool. Tangos on deck. Two fast boats in rotation like guard dogs.
“That’s a hell of a drop,” GQ muttered. “In the fucking dark.”
“Nah,” Skull said. “It’s not the drop. It’s the landing.”
Breakneck smiled. He didn’t need reassurance. He had geometry, timing, muscle memory, his NVGs, and no fear where this kind of crazy was concerned.
“I've got my scorecard,” Preacher said dryly. “Not sure how fair the German judge will be.”
“Screw difficulty,” Taylor added. “Points if he doesn’t go splat. Gold medal if he stops that boat before it hits red tape. Morocco’s already screaming about sovereignty.”
“Not much of a high bar,” Kodiak muttered. “I’m just counting bones and hoping we keep all of his.”
“Let’s up his odds,” Iceman said, nodding to the deck. “Take out as many as you can.”
Preacher shifted beside him. Breakneck caught the sniper’s inhale, steady, deliberate. That meant someone's death warrant was about to be signed.
Three quick cracks. Two tangos dropped. A third went over the rail. The others scattered.
“Best I can do,” Preacher said.
The pilot’s voice crackled over comms. “One fast boat turning toward us.”
The door gunner stepped in, opened fire. One of the security boats vanished beneath smoke and spray.
“Pilot,” Iceman ordered. “Bring us in close.”
“Roger that. Kid’s full-blown batshit but still drawing a paycheck.”
The Black Hawk banked hard. Breakneck adjusted his cinch, heart thudding, not from nerves.From clarity.
He’d argued for this. Fast-roping was out, too hot, too unstable. The helipad wasn’t secure. But the pool? A six-by-eight carveout in teak decking. Maybe six feet deep. Just enough.
“This is interdiction,” he said over comms. “Breakneck-style.”
“Don’t live up to your callsign,” Hazard snapped. “I’ll revive you just to kill you again.”
“Aw, broski. I feel the love.”
“Target’s speed increasing,” the pilot warned. “Crossing the Moroccan boundary in ninety seconds.”
“Breakneck, you’re green,” Iceman said.
Breakneck jumped.
He knifed into the pool feet-first, boots touching tile. He bent his knees, then exploded out of the water like a goddamn missile, rifle raised, muzzle up.
“Engaging starboard rail!” Full auto. Two tangos dropped as they charged the bridge. A third fled inside. Breakneck moved. Soaked, silent, he crossed the deck and took the glass door like a breacher, weapon-first. Shards exploded. The bridge filled with blood and chaos.
He surged inside, dropped the remaining crew, and grabbed the engine control.
Lever down. Engines dying.
“Bridge secure,” he growled into comms. “Bring the firepower.”
Outside, covering the descent, ropes dropped like snakes.
Boomer hit the deck first, hard and fast, weapon sweeping. GQ, Hazard, Kodiak, Preacher, Iceman, and Skull followed. Bones launched like fury incarnate, MWD teeth bared and ready.
