For week #28 of the Finish The Story contest, hosted by @f3nix, humble servant to the old god @bananafish, we have an action piece by @theironfelix.

The set up is well written. There's a goal of the soldiers (revenge, the most literary goal), the sense of impending battle, politics and factions, helicopters and the AK74 (not the 47, but still wonderful). The ending is whatever you want it to be, and is entirely open. Will they win or lose?

I ended mine at 500 words, but frankly the story had just begun.

Revenge of Yayo Che

by @theironfelix

In the dawn of the Peruvian Jungle landscape, a Sendero Luminoso member spotted five OH-6 Cayuse helicopters but waived the anti-aircraft to not launch their load – the soldier radioed in that they finally came and to approach the compound. In these five helis, paratroopers were carrying Russian AK74s and were armoured up. In the leading one, a certain lass finishes her cigar, then picks up the radio and begins to drum up a blood frenzy:

"In Cuba, the Cubans celebrate a hero - name’s Che. In the World of drugs, we got our own Che – he of course went by many names like el Rey de Yayo, but we know him as Yayo Che. A heart in a heartless world, a spirit in spirit conditions and a sigh of us oppressed folk. Yet the World couldn’t stand this – so the World robbed us of him! Killed anyone that followed him! And humbled our pride!... But from the mud we rechristened our humbled pride, determined to show them gusanos what the dirt tastes and show them who the real cockroaches are! For if you mess with us, you’re messing with the BEST! And today marks… El Día de Juicio!”

As she released her radio, she heard from the radio static chants of “!Yayo Che!” and “!El Día de Juicio!” She saw from the dashboard that they were closing in to the compound, the place of theculo that ordered the hit – the Cuban Government intel was correct and she owned them a solid. Funny that they supported her endeavors, but she stopped laughing internally when she realized that political maneuvers and combatting La CIA influence was priority when it came to these matters. Considering this mission as her main payment to the Cubans, she snapped her mag into the AK74 and racked it.

Approaching closer, the pilot asked when to start popping the missiles and rain the lead thunder – her only reply being was “on my signal.” The pilot saluted and began to steer the OH-6 Cayuse into combat formation, resulting in the other helis following suit – she radioed in to the pilots to prepare for contact with anti-air craft and to rain hell, then she ordered to hang and kick the assassin’s corpse out. Moments later seeing her command followed, the pilot asked one last question before they got danger-close:

“¿Estás listo, Yayo Che?”

“¡Sí! Let the lead thunder start hammering the World! Let ‘em know El Día de Juicio!”

Soon she and her paratroopers parachuted and began their descent into the Jungle, there was no coming back and now they had to put all their hearts into it. She briefed all of them a million times on what was to be expected, the ins and outs of the compound and aid from el Sendero Luminoso – they were all going to move as one Arm, one Heart and one Spirit, for they had nothing to lose and everything to gain. El Día de Juicio truly began.

My Ending

Lucia landed with a thud on the dirt jungle floor. The helis above launched their payloads, and the buildings around her in the compound erupted in flame and hellfire. AK fire went off. She sought cover in the overgrowth of the jungle and began crawling her way towards the enemy HQ. She heard screams and battle cries against the machine gun fire and bombs. The assault began.

She worked her way towards the main building, the one they’d agree to leave standing against the bomb. That’s where he waited, the worm Félix Ismael Rodríguez Mendigutia.

——

Abimael and his comrades reached the rear of the compound. Already, the troopers had decimated the flanks of the fascistas. They crept forward, hearing shouts and commands. Hold and Fight! Run and die, cowards. We fight to the death! Protect Mendiguitia!. A chainlink fence marked the entry point, already torn and ripped from shrapnel, grenades and more. Abimael and his comrades crawled through a break in the fence and lined up behind a brigade of soldiers sprinting to hold back against the Cubans.

The Sendero Luminosa soldiers needed no orders. They thought with a single mind, fought with a single purpose, trained to reach the same conclusions in the moment of battle. They lit up the fascistas from behind, peppering their black and yellow uniforms with machine gun fire.

——

Lucia reached the main building, a grotesquely absurd concrete abomination in the center of a jungle. She tossed a grenade at the barricade from which the black and yellows held a defensive position. It landed square and burst, flinging their bodies and concrete and metal in all directions. In the smoke and confusion of the blast, Lucia charged forward, spraying her AK74 at any survivors. In less than ten seconds, she was inside.

An amber light shone from above. She raced down the hall, paintings of presidents and generals and bourgeois intellectuals adorning every three foot of the wall. War criminals, all of them. A door opened on her left. Lucia let her rifle speak for her and took down three more before they knew what was happening. She reached stairs and began her climb.

——
Abimael and his comrades followed behind the carnage. He figured it was Lucia, the Ghost. A KGB black operative, trained Cuba and Russia, her talent for death earned her both admiration and fear by Left and Right both. He was happy to have her on his side. He wouldn’t want to be charging into a compound to try and assassinate her. They passed the hall of vile portraits and reached the steel stairs leading up. Gun fire erupted behind them. His comrades held off the defensive assault as he raced ahead.

——
Mendiguitia. That CIA trained scum, son of the rich landlords who wept crocodile tears for his ‘lost Cuba’. He waited at his desk, looking over the reports. Progress had been made, so said the growth in GDP. When the door burst open, he held the reports up for her to see. “I’m not bad,” he said. “Money doesn’t lie.”