Johnathon Tiberius Walker stepped off the unmarked Blackhawk helicopter, stepping lightly on the cobble stones that made up the streets of the town. Port William. One of two communities on an island chain at the tip of Bermuda. The other, Cinco Muerta. He looked back to the Blackhawk and waited for it to lift off before moving. It sat for several more minutes, giving Walker a moment to pause. Why would they just sit there and wait? It made no sense.And then the answer came.
A tall, dark haired man stepped off the transport. Walker knew who it was, he'd been the gunslinger's second in command in the the Illuminati unit they ran. Walker gritted his teeth and shook his head. "Omega Six, what the hell 're you doin'?"
"I'm with you, mate," Omega Six replied in his thick Australian accent. "The way I see it, if I stick it out I'm as good as dead. Especially if I ever have to face off against you. With you, I've got a better chance." He paused for a moment as he studied Walker's reaction. "Besides. You could use my help."
John Walker shook his head and wordlessly waved the Aussie gunslinger over. They both watched as the chopper lifted into the air, and out of sight. "That may have been the dumbest thing you ever done, Monty," Walker said quietly.
"Explain to me how joinin' the Illuminati was smart?"
A chuckle escaped Walker's lips and he shook his head. "C'mon, Monty. We gotta find digs ta settle down in. May as well start huntin'." Monty grabbed his gear and followed the old gunhand. They were fresh and green on this island compared to some, but they had tactical smarts, and that alone would be their saving grace.
to be continued...
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