The military-grade stealth helicopter cleaved through the blinding arctic storm, its rotor blades roaring against the freezing winds. In the cockpit, Liam was hunched over a terminal beside the pilot, shouting coordinates over the mechanical din, trying desperately to re-establish a link with Allen's ghosted biometrics.
In the passenger cabin, Ethan stood by the frosted plexiglass window, his sharp eyes cutting through the heavy snow squalls below, hunting for any sign of a vehicle or human movement in the vast, white void.
Suddenly, a strange, high-pitched frequency tore through the howling wind. It was faint at first, but within seconds, the electronic warble grew into a deafening screech that lit up the cockpit's radar console in a violent, pulsing crimson.
"Missile lock!" Ethan roared, his voice echoing through the cabin.
Time fractured. Liam didn't hesitate—he lunged backward, snatched a tactical parachute rig from the wall, slammed it into Ethan's chest, and violently threw him out of the open bay door into the freezing abyss.
"No!" Ethan yelled, his voice instantly swallowed by the storm as he tumbled into a freefall.
Up in the cabin, Liam shoved a second rig into the pilot's hands, strapped his own harness tight, and both men threw themselves out into the sky. Two seconds later, a surface-to-air missile slammed directly into the helicopter's fuel core. The resulting explosion was blinding, tearing the aircraft into a ball of melting steel.
The violent kinetic shockwave erupted outward, hammering into Liam and the pilot. Because they were still dangerously close to the blast radius, the concussive force knocked them instantly unconscious, sending them into a limp, terminal freefall through the clouds.
"Liam!" Ethan screamed.
Using his tactical air-diving training, Ethan tucked his arms, angling his body into a steep, aggressive dive to intercept them. He sliced through the freezing wind, pulling himself level with the falling bodies. Reaching out with a iron grip, he snatched Liam by the ankle, yanked him close, and then extended his other arm to catch the collar of the pilot's jacket.
Suddenly, a localized synthetic voice boomed from Ethan's tactical wrist-comm:
CRITICAL ALTITUDE REACHED. DEPLOY PARACHUTES NOW.
Ethan fired the deployment cords for Liam and the pilot first, sending their canvas canopies blooming into the white storm, before tearing open his own cord. The crosswinds were brutal. Liam and the pilot's parachutes drifted into the heavy canopy of a frozen pine forest, the violent jolting impact against the thick branches snapping both men back to consciousness.
Ethan wasn't as lucky—a jagged, frozen branch sliced completely through his canopy, tearing the fabric apart and sending him crashing hard into the snowbank below.
Ethan groaned, his body sinking into the deep drift. He shook the ice from his hair and pushed himself up. "The snow is thick... thankfully," he muttered, checking his vitals.
A few yards away, Liam and the pilot were successfully cutting themselves down from the high branches, dropping into the snow.
"Are you guys holding together?" Ethan called out, rolling his shoulders.
"Yeah," Liam gasped, coughing out the freezing air. "What about you?"
Ethan simply raised his arm, giving them a definitive thumbs-up.
The pilot checked his encrypted wrist-pad, his face grim. "The heavy snowfall and altitude are completely choking the local frequencies. Signals are almost dead."
"Find high ground where the line is clear and re-establish a link to Base AE7," Liam instructed the pilot firmly. "Request immediate backup while we advance on foot to track our target."
The pilot gave a disciplined nod and immediately began moving toward a nearby ridge.
Liam turned to Ethan, his jaw set against the freezing wind. "Let's begin the hunt."
Ethan gave a cold nod, his eyes locking onto the dark mountain peaks ahead.
Meanwhile,
Inside the luxury SUV winding its way up the treacherous mountain road, Allen was staring out the window. Suddenly, a bright, fiery flash bloomed across the distant clouds, reflecting sharply in the side mirror.
"What the hell was that?" Allen asked, his eyes narrowing as he watched the smoke trail.
"Keep your eyes ahead, kid. Don't look into things that don't concern you," Noah responded coldly, his hands steady on the steering wheel. "We're almost at the staging area."
Allen's muscles coiled subtly under his streetwear jacket.
Something is completely wrong here, he thought, analyzing the sheer drop-offs and the blinding blizzard outside. In this kind of extreme alpine weather, a high-speed motorcycle race isn't a tournament—it's an execution.
"The weather isn't fit for a race," Allen said aloud, his voice dropping its arrogant teenager act, turning entirely flat and lethal. He turned his head squarely toward the driver's seat. "What are you really pulling here, Noah?"
No verbal reply came. Instead, the sharp, silver glint of a tactical blade sliced through the shadows of the cabin, driving straight for Allen's throat.
Allen's reflexes saved him. He jerked his head back, the blade whistling past his nose, biting deep into the leather headrest. Before Allen could counter, Noah released the wheel and drove a heavy, reinforced combat fist straight into the side of Allen's face.
Allen blocked with both arms but the sheer force of the impact shattered the passenger door lock, throwing Allen completely out of the speeding SUV.
Allen hit the frozen road, rolling tightly through the sharp ice and snow to absorb the momentum before springing back onto his boots. He wiped a streak of blood from his lip, breathing heavily.
The ambient temperature is freezing, he thought, thankfully, I layered my tactical gear underneath.
The SUV screeched to a halt, its tires throwing up ice. Noah stepped out of the vehicle, casually twirling the knife in his hand, his eyes dripping with absolute contempt.
"Did you honestly believe you could fool the higher echelons of the Loop, kid?" Noah sneered, his voice carrying over the wind.
"There is no race circuit tonight. You were brought up to these mountains for one reason: to die."