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You got it, leader.
Never knew how much
I missed this, Dutch.
You never were that smart.
DUTCH: Hawkins, you're up.
Lines away.
PONCHO: The pilots have each
got one round in the head.
Whoever hit it,
stripped the shit out of it.
DUTCH: Took him out
with a heat-seeker.
PONCHO: Something else, Major.
This is no ordinary army taxi.
It looks more like
a surveillance bird to me.
DILLON: Pick up the trail yet?
DUTCH: Billy's on it.
Heat-seeker, Dillon.
That's pretty sophisticated
for half-assed mountain boys.
DILLON: I guess they're getting
better equipped every day.
There were 12 guerrillas.
They took the two men
from the helicopter...
but there's something else.
DUTCH: What?
Six men wearing
US-issued army boots.
They came in from the north...
and then they followed
the guerrillas.
DUTCH: Mean anything to you?
DILLON: Probably just another
rebel patrol.
They operate in here
all the time.
-See what you can find.
-Yes, sir.
[Birds screech]
DUTCH: What's he got?
PONCHO: Same business.
Guerrillas hauling two guys
in the chopper...
followed by men
with American equipment.
Do you remember Afghanistan?
DUTCH: Trying to forget it.
Come on. Let's go.
[Wings flapping]
[Wings flapping]
[Wings flapping]
[Birds screeching]
Holy mother of God.
''Jim Hopper.''
Mac, cut them down.
DUTCH: I knew these men.
Green Berets out of Fort Bragg.
What the hell
were they doing here?
DILLON: I don't know, Dutch.
This is inhuman.
Nobody told me there was
an operation in this area.
They shouldn't have been here.
Well, somebody sent them.
The guerrillas skinned them?
PONCHO: Why did they skin them?
MAC: Ain't no way
for no soldier to die.
What happened here, Billy?
BILLY: Strange, Major.
There was a firefight.
They were shooting
in all directions.
DUTCH: Can't believe Jim Hopper
walked into an ambush.
BILLY: I don't believe he did.
I can't find a single track.
Just doesn't make sense.
DUTCH: What about the rest
of Hopper's men?
BILLY: There's no sign, sir.
They never left here.
Hell, it's like
they just disappeared.
Stick with the guerrilla trail.
Let's get the hostages.
We move, five-meter spread.
No sound.
It's time to let Old Painless
out of the bag.
Payback time.
[Amplified audio of footsteps]
[Bird screeches]
[Birds screeching]
MAC: You're ghostin' us,
I don't care who you are
back in the world.
You give our position
one more time...
I'll bleed you real quiet
and leave you here.
Got that?
[Sound of motor]
[Speaking Spanish]
MAN: Aah!
[Prisoner speaking Russian]
[Speaking Russian]
He killed one of the hostages.
We move.
Mac, Blain--the nest.
Billy, Poncho--the guard.
Hawkins, Dillon--backup.
Once they're set,
I hit the fuel dump.
[Exhales deeply]
One down.
[Motor thrumming loudly]
[Beep beep]
What the hell's he doing?
What the fuck?
Show time, kid.
[Man shouting in Russian]
Target's the center,
on the upper level!
[Chopper turbines accelerating]
Dutch, on your nine!
[Man shouting in Russian]
[Man screaming]
[Shouting in Spanish]
[Exhales deeply]
Get that mother!
Stick around.
DILLON: Hostages are inside!
Knock knock.
PONCHO: I got 'em !
Hawkins, call in position
and situation.
Get Connor for the hook!
HAWKINS: You got it, Major.
Mac, any sign
of the other hostage?
MAC: Found the other guy.
He's dead, too...
and the kid from the chopper.
But if they're Central American,
l'm a Goddamn Chinaman.
From the looks of it,
our cabinet minister was CIA.
Another thing, Major.
We were lucky.
Other guys we waxed--
Russian military advisers.
Something pretty big
was gonna happen here.
DUTCH: Good work, Mac.
Clear the area. No traces.
Get the men ready to move.
BLAIN: Son of a bitch
is dug in like an Alabama tick.

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