Red Scorpion

Nikolai Petrovich Rachenko

Spetsnaz. Special Forces

Our warrior elite.

A very powerful and valuable tool.

He can be controlled.

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SOVIET HIGH COMMAND MOSCOW

Come in

Lieutenant Rachenko...

you know Kalinin of S.P.R.

This is Gurulevich of Brigade...

Lieutenant Sorovak of Sovintel.

And this is Senor General

Alfonso Galarraga...

liaison for the Cuban comrades in Africa.

Tea? Coffee? Kvass?

No, thank you.

Cigar?

Nineteen-seventy-eight...

The Soviet Army comes to the aid

of the Marxist...

Element of Mombaka known

as the Soldat Rouge.

Nineteen-eighty.

Cuban and Czechoslovakian forces assume

our responsibilities in the field.

Liberate nearly...

two-thirds of the country.

With your continued support

and extremely fine advisors.

Of course.

Nineteen-eighty-five.

A movement begins in the bush.

Tiny at first. Insignificant.

But in a few years time,

it is reaching out...

vandalizing, propagandizing...

killing, growing.

The impetus... behind the rebellion

is this man-Ango Sundata.

He is very powerful,

very dangerous fanatic.

He is their leader.

He is your targeted objective.

A ruthless butcher of men,

women and children.

Then he must be feared by his people.

It is not so much that he is feared.

He is worshipped.

Access?

Ah... Fate smiles on the well prepared.

Kallunda Kintash.

He is one of Sundata's war lords...

A favorite military advisor - his protector.

We have captured him.

We have managed to prevent the Cubans

from shooting him.

They are holding him in the field.

In a few days time,

we will be bringing him here.

Cuamo base...

our operations center in Mombaka, Africa.

You have been assigned there

as a technical advisor.

You will encounter this man...

Kallunda Kintash.

You will befriend him.

He will lead you to Sundata.

Colonel Zayas. He has another new toy.

Hey, Russkie big guy,

have some good time?

Hey you...

So?

You're so rude, bad bastard.

You broke my f***ing nose.

Are you out of your mind?

No. Just out of bullets.

I am going to die, Kallunda.

I'm frightened.

We must be strong.

Hey, you.

Thank you.

Nikolai.

Shitheads! Lighten up, f***ers!

You're breaking my god damn arm!

I am an American journalist,

periodico Americano.

This sh*t's gonna be a cover story.

That's my God damn tape recorder.

Okay, okay, you can have the recorder.

Don't take the tapes.

Take them. Take them.

Okay. But I'm getting those back.

You hear me?

You savvy what I'm saying, jackoffs?

Commie pigs.

Kallunda?

Son of a b*tch.

Dewey Ferguson.

God damn. You look like sh*t.

Hey, I, I heard in the village just...

What the hell is this?

We're sharing a cell

with a God damn Russian?

Jesus, man. What the hell's a piece of

sh*t like this doing in here?

Disorderly conduct.

Just stay on your side

of the cage, man.

Your f***ing side of the cage.

King f***ing Kong.

Have you seen Sundata?

Not since we split up at the Assab.

Look, man...

it's all over the villages that there's

going to be a public execution.

Everybody figures it's you.

Sh*t. What the hell

are you looking at, Russki?

Jesus, God damn disorderly conduct.

You want to see disorderly conduct?

Take a look at what you sons of b*tches

are doing to this country.

Kallunda Kintash.

He ain't here. You bastards killed him

and dragged him out

a couple of minutes ago.

We'll remove this one too.

I am Kallunda Kintash.

Ow, easy there, Pancho.

Here.

The American propagandist...

is a very tough little man.

F*** you.

F*** you too, heh?

Shoot him!

Shoot him!

Move!

Perhaps a private execution.

The road, amigo.

Pretty soon this place is going to be

crawling with commies.

Screw this.

So the big Soviet take's the MP's gun...

and blows the whole mosquito

to God damn hell.

They take him down?

Yeah, went down like a school boy.

Wait!

Stop the truck!

What the God damn hell.

Yeah, what is it?

What is it?

Got a couple of passengers for you.

Some sh*t!

Stop that truck!

Go! Go!

The road, amigo.

Now what do we do about the Russian?

What do you want to do?

I want to blow his God damn head off.

Get some speed up, Boris.

Don't stop till I tell you to.

Enough of this sh*t.

The gas tank is behind

the right front tire.

Listen, you f***ing Russky.

You just do your God damn job

and I'll do mine. All right?

F***ing A.

I threw out the mad Russian.

You son of a b*tch!

Screw you, lurch.

What's it? Shoot the f***. Get out.

Oh, sh*t.

Oh, sh*t.

You're some piece of work.

You're some f***ing crazy ass,

God damn commie sh*t piece of work.

They'll be here soon.

We must move quickly.

What do you mean we'?

You got a rat in your pocket?

Move. Move quickly.

The truck was blown off.

They must be dead.

Let's go.

I cannot return.

You're breaking my bleeding heart,

Moose.

If you choose,

you may travel with us

as far as Porto Silva.

What is that place?

A small village, uh, two days march.

From there... you can cross the Zamabaan

border to seek political asylum.

Porto Silva is my home.

Are you out of your f***ing mind?

He's a Russian.

He is also responsible for our lives.

That doesn't mean sh*t.

I wouldn't trust him as far as I can piss.

He's one of them.

He's up to something.

I'm out of here.

He's a very emotional man.

You still want to take this bird to

Porto Silva?

I'm telling the truth, Kallunda...

I'm looking at him and I'm seeing

nothing but trouble.

I gave him my word.

It's beautiful, man.

Just beautiful beyond words.

One day the oppression will end.

This land will be returned to us.

And we will live... as free men.

Aw, God! Real Cuban delicacies, huh?

Man, what I'd give for a bacon

cheeseburger right now.

Wash it down with an ice cold

glass of beer.

F***ing A.

When we arrive at Porto Silva...

there will be a celebration

and much feasting.

Beer too.

F***ing A.

Do the Americans all swear so much

as you do?

As a matter of fact, in America

an American can swear whenever...

where, however much he

or she f***ing well pleases.

A little something we call freedom

of speech...

which I'm sure you Russians

aren't real familiar with.

We are free to swear.

Well, yippidee f***!

Guess I had you bastards figured out

totally wrong after all.

I'll take the first watch.

Sh*t!

Sh*t! Piss. Sh*t.

Noisy little f***.

Come on. Porto Silva,

just over the rise.

Come on, man. Don't poop out on us now.

You'll be food for the buzzards.

They are not for us.

Mother of God.

There is a new terror

in the African bloodland.

The Russians have sent the dreaded

Hind gunship.

Yesterday we saw it's graceful flight

above the highlands.

Today we see it's effect.

Clearly the execution of

Kallunda Kintash...

Was meant to coincide

with the extermination of his village.

The intruders have learned

the secret of horror.

Kill a soldier and his comrades

will hunt you down.

But kill his children...

kill the body and the mind

will surely die.

I now know the true meaning of... loathing.

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