Scalped

May, 1996

Uruguay/Brazil border

The eight members of the Action Commandos team were spread out over several square feet of the hill in the trees overlooking the rough airstrip. Oso and Espada, two infantrymen, were manning a flank observation post on the eastern approach. Fuego and Albatross, two paratroopers, were manning the western watch post. In the middle, watching the airstrip were Sokerk, the machine-gunner, Cohete, the anti-armour specialist, Escudo, the close-quarter battle specialist and Hacha, the final infantryman.

“Man, this is boring,” Escudo complained. “We been here three days and we know this is a Headhunters’ airstrip for their drug smugglin’. Why can’t we go down there and bust some pendejo heads?”

Hacha turned to the Peruvian and glowered at him. “Because we need to establish the pattern of their deliveries so we know when to call in the Air Force.”

Escudo frowned at the comment, but said nothing more to the Colombian as Sokerk suddenly spoke up.

“Heads up, amigos, we got Headhunters coming out of the hangars.”

Sure enough, a group of about twenty Headhunters were walking out of the two corrugated tin buildings that housed the smugglers’ planes when they weren’t in use.

“Everybody be cool,” Hacha said as he heard Sokerk and Escudo click off their safeties.

Suddenly, his radio headset crackled.

“Hacha, we’ve got a group of ten Headhunters coming toward us on the east,” Oso reported. Hacha’s fellow Colombian sounded calm.

“West post has a similar group coming our way,” Albatross reported next.

“Where the hell did they come from?” Escudo muttered.

The lead Headhunter produced a loudhailer.

“Attention, Action Commandos!” he shouted. “We know you’re there. You might as well surrender, we outnumber you considerably.”

Hacha conceded this was the case. His team were out-numbered more than four to one.

“We don’t want to kill you,” the leader went on. “We’re businessmen after all.”

“I don’t think so,” Sokerk said, raising his FN MAG light machine gun to fire.

Hacha reached over and shoved the gun down. “Don’t be an idiot, man, they’ll kill us.”

Two days later

Task Force 282 Headquarters, Argentina

El General met Shimik and Manleh in the Ops room.

“We’ve got a problem,” El General informed them. “The Headhunters have captured the team we sent to Uruguay to assist in tracking the group.”

“You’re kidding?” Manleh said.

“I wish I was,” El General replied. “The Uruguayan Army lost contact with them. A team was sent in from their Paras, which found the airstrip they were surveilling to be empty. Equipment from the team was found nearby. It seems they were forced to surrender and abandon their weapons.”

“I thought they were just supposed to be on some sneak and peek mission, tracking Headhunter smuggling flights?” Shimik said.

“They were,” El General replied. “Unfortunately, it seems that the Headhunters had more troops there than we expected. The Uruguayans think there was as many as sixty of them that confronted our team. We’ve got recon aircraft flying over the area now, but we’ve got one camp under surveillance we think is big enough to deal with holding so many prisoners.”

“Let’s get the others together and start planning a rescue mission,” Manleh said.

Several hours later, the team had an assault plan ready, as well as a plan for a recon mission against the Headhunters’ camp.

A small transport plane flew Shimik, Aguia Commando and Condor to Uruguay, where they parachuted into the pampas grasslands, a few miles from the Headhunters’ camp.

Shimik, the Argentine reconnaissance specialist, led the way; Aguia Commando – the Brazilian paratrooper who’d joined with Albatross – followed, whilst Condor, the first Brazilian para on the squad, brought up the rear.

The three of them made their way toward the camp, staying in the shadows outside the light cast by the camp’s fires and the lights mounted on poles powered by generators.

Shimik used his helmet-mounted visor to peer into the camp, looking around at the number of troops present and the positions of the tents and rough buildings.

As they moved around the camp, the three commandos soon saw the prisoners. Standing over them, wearing what were clearly bomb vests similar to those worn by suicide bombers in the Middle East, were four Battle Android Troopers. Unlike the black, silver and yellow of the Cobra BATs, these were painted grey and black, with orange faceplates. Each BAT was armed with an AK47 assault rifle as they stood guard over the prisoners, who’d been shackled together.

Moving about the camp were the other Headhunters, dressed in their black uniforms and brown boots. Several Headhunter Stormtroopers could be seen directing the junior members of the international narcotics ring. The dark green and black uniforms with their fearsome-looking skull-like masks made them stand apart.

After several minutes of moving about the camp’s perimeter and observing the camp, the three commandos fell back to a nearby stand of trees.

Aguia Commando sat down, pulled a small pad and a pencil from one of his pockets and began sketching rough diagrams of the camp.

“This is not going to be easy, amigos,” the Brazilian said.

“No kidding,” Condor replied. “Did you see the bracelets they had on?”

Shimik shook his head, “Bracelets?”

“Chunky things with a little wire doodad sticking out the top,” Condor said. “I think they might’ve been some kind of radio frequency ID thing. I’ve heard about them from friends in the police. Those BATs are probably programmed to take out anyone not wearing an RFID tag.”

Shimik frowned. “Not good. We’re going to need a way to neutralise the BATs.”

Aguia Commando looked up from his pad. “Tirador should be able to snipe them,” he commented. “He is the team sniper after all.”

Shimik nodded, “True, but he’s going to need a line of sight on all of them and we’re not exactly near tall buildings.”

“Topson could jam the radio frequency,” Condor said. “Make the BATs shut down.”

“That might make them execute the prisoners,” Shimik pointed out.

Condor shook his head in frustration.

“Let’s get back to base,” Shimik said. “Talk to El General and Manleh.”

The three commandos moved off, heading to their extraction point.

Several hours later

Task Force 282 headquarters

The three members of the recon team sat with El General, Redmack and Manleh in the main briefing room. Aguia Commando was drawing a detail plan of the camp from his rough notes and his photographic memory.

“The presence of the BATs with the bomb-vests makes our initial assault plan useless,” Shimik said. “We need to know how to deal with them first.”

“Redmack, get in touch with GI Joe and Action Force, get all the information they have on the Roboids,” El General said, using the old nickname for the BATs the task force members had given them when they first encountered them.

The American intelligence specialist nodded.

“Once we’ve got a plan to deal with them, we can work out how to rescue the prisoners,” Shimik said. “The RFID bracelets and the suicide vests put the prisoners at too much risk.”

“We get that, amigo,” Manleh said.

The meeting broke up, with Manleh and El General taking Aguia Commando’s plans with them to analyse them and Redmack heading off to place a call to GI Joe headquarters in the US.

Headhunters camp

Shortly before dawn, next morning

The prisoners woke to hear the distant sound of a helicopter getting closer. The group exchanged looks as the Headhunters began moving out of their tents and looking in to the still-dark sky.

The Action Commandos’ Tomahawk flew toward the camp at low-level and low speed before Martillo brought it to a halt a half-mile away, pivoting it around to allow Tirador to see the camp. The sniper was lying down in the back of the transport, his sniper rifle at the ready.

“Stabilise,” he said into the intercom headset he wore.

“We’re stable,” Glenda replied from the co-pilot’s position.

Peering through the night-vision scope attached to his rifle, Tirador adjusted his scope, muttering under his breath before saying, “I’ve got a shot on Tango-1, taking it.”

The BAT turned toward the noise of the helicopter, just before the .50 calibre bullet slammed into its head, shattering it in a spray of metal and plastic.

Seconds later, another BAT, standing next to it took a second bullet in its red faceplate.

In the helicopter, Tirador adjusted his rifle, shifting aim, then reached up and turned the knob on his scope. “Target three, green light, taking the shot.”

He squeezed the trigger and the rifle obliterated the third BAT’s head. He lined up the next shot. “Four is in my sights, firing.”

“All BATs down,” he reported. “Got a shot on a Stormtrooper with a light machine gun.”

Tirador fired.

“He’s down,” the sniper reported.

“We’re nearly at joker fuel,” Martillo said. “Ground team, this is Big Bird, you’re on your own. We’re out of here for refuelling.”

“Roger that, Big Bird,” Topson replied over the radio.

On the ground, the strike team were running toward the camp. They were fifty feet away before Estopim fired a flash-bang into the camp. The ear-splitting bang was lessened by the open air, but it still served to shock the Headhunters.

Leopard and Condor fired their own grenade launchers, blowing a hole in the perimeter fence of the camp.

The Action Commandos barrelled through the gap, opening fire at the Headhunters.

Shimik cut down a Headhunter with a light machine-gun running toward the prisoners, TNT shoved past the recon specialist to reach the headless BATs.

Redmack began laying down suppressive fire with his machine-gun as Leopard, Estopim and Condor flanked right with rifles blazing. TNT reached the first BAT and worked quickly to disarm the bomb-vest.

As he set to work, Topson, Manleh and Sparta started herding the prisoners away from the BATs. Aguia Commando covered them as they led Sokerk, Fuego and Albatross toward the team’s medic, SOS, who was keeping out of the way next to one of the shacks.

Suddenly, one of the BATs detonated its explosives as Escudo, Cohete, Espada and Hacha were getting to their feet to make a run for it.

Manleh, Topson and Aguia Commando swore several different profanities as they saw the three soldiers vanish in a fireball.

Manleh turned to Sparta, “Get them out of here to the RV point!”

The brunette nodded and led the three commandos away as SOS, Manleh and Topson moved toward where Oso, TNT and the other BATs lay.

“Grab Oso,” Manleh shouted to Topson, “I’ll get TNT!”

The radio operator did as he was told, hefting the soldier, who Topson wasn’t even sure was still alive, on to his shoulders in a fireman’s carry before turning and heading back toward the hole in the fence.

“Commandos, fall back!” Manleh bellowed. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”

Redmack and Shimik fired off several more rounds, dropping another pair of Headhunters before Estopim and Condor fired a pair of grenades into one of the shacks. The wooden building exploded, sending the surviving Headhunters scurrying for cover before Leopard, Shimik, Condor and Redmack each grabbed the burned bodies of their dead comrades and headed for the others.

The commandos ran across the Pampas toward the rendezvous point as the sky lightened.

Once they reached the small wood that had been designated as the RV point for the extraction, Redmack, Shimik, Estopim and Leopard moved to set up a watch for the Headhunters chasing them as SOS examined Oso.

The rest of the commandos watched as the doctor worked. Finally, he stood up and turned to Manleh. “Sorry, boss, he’s gone.”

“''Ground team, this is Big Bird. We’re en route for extraction. Pop smoke and advise on temperature of LZ, please.”''

Topson answered the radio call. “Big Bird, this is Ground, will pop smoke. LZ is cold, say again, LZ is cold.”

The Argentine moved to the edge of the wood and threw out a smoke-marker grenade. It popped and began spewing out blue smoke.

“''Ground team, Big Bird has a visual on blue smoke. ETE is ninety seconds,”'' Martillo reported.

The Tomahawk quickly arrived, hovering inches off the ground. The commandos boarded the helicopter, carefully laying the bodies at the back of the interior.

The Tomahawk lifted clear and Manleh stuck his head between the pilots’ seats.

“Can I use the radio?” he asked Glenda. The co-pilot nodded and handed over her headset.

“How did it go?” she shouted back to Manleh.

“Five dead, three survived.” He turned away as he radioed back to the unit’s headquarters.

TF 282 Headquarters

One week later

El General stood in the lobby of the headquarters building. On the wall in front of him were photos of nine men. Five of them were Oso, Escudo, Espada, Hacha and Cohete. The other four were Dragon, the anti-armour specialist Cohete had replaced; Pegasus, a pilot Martillo had replaced; Triton an infantryman and Sureshot, the sniper Tirador had replaced.

El General remained silent as several of the other Action Commandos gathered behind him. He finally turned to face Manleh, Redmack, Green Ray the motorcyclist, Biological, Biomass and Biosphere the three Eco-Warriors.

“That was the worse day I’ve had in this command. Even worse than the attack during the War of the Red Shadows, because I was friends with those five men. We’re going to hunt down those pendejo Headhunters and put an end to them once and for all…”