【正文】 iage cover, creating bright mottles on a black object . CAMERA PULLS BACK and BOOMS UP as Rambo moves forward to reveal the object as an ALLBLACK JET. It is a modified Gulfstream Peregrine, a small sleek singleengine executive model, with all insignia and . numbers removed. MED. ON RAMBO AND BREWER as they consider the aircraft. BREWER Ever do this from a jet? RAMBO No. VOICE (.) It39。s easy... They turn to see a lanky longhaired man in a leather flying jacket duck under the fuselage from the far side and approach them. MAN (grinning) Just have to jump fast. Two other air crewmen jump down from the open rear passenger door of the plane. RAMBO You the pilot? MAN (extending hand) Yeah. Doyle. (he gestures to the two in the door) Lifer and Fuhrman. Doyle is a product of the sixties39。 school of ultracool, his brain a little torched by too many methedout night missions. Fuhrman, the copilot, grins too much and Lifer39。s eyes are just plain scary. RAMBO You boys Air Force? DOYLE Marines. 39。Ex39。 though. We39。re private contractors now. LIFER You ever do a tour 39。incountry39。? RAMBO Two. 39。Eyecorps39。 mostly. DOYLE (to Brewer) How about you? BREWER (defensive) Vietnam was a little before my time. So was Korea, know what I mean? Rambo and Doyle glance at each other... solidarity before newmeat bozos. EXT. CAMOUFLAGE CANOPY DETAIL ON THE GROUND as the head of a torquewrench finishes a rough map of local Southeast Asia, scratched hastily in the dirt. DOYLE (.) Thailand. The Mekong. Laos. 39。Nam. With each word he plops the torquewrench onto the appropriate place. ON DOYLE Gesturing as he continues. DOYLE A straight dash across the Laotian panhandle, through the Annamese Mountains... some good dicey bits there... and on to the drop zone. Eighteen minutes each way in munist airspace. RAMBO We go low to stay off radar? DOYLE In the rhubarb, babe. FUHRMAN (grinning) Mowin39。 the lawn. LIFER Dig it. INT. MOTC COMMAND HUT Trautman, looking a bit unfortable in Kirkhill39。s electronic lair, paces behind the seated Special Operations Officer. TRAUTMAN How long before you39。re fully on line? KIRKHILL Couple hours. Let me buy you a coffee. He turns to a vending machine nestled improbably between two racks of electronics. TRAUTMAN You think they39。ll find any? KIRKHILL (feeding in change) POWs? I don39。t know. But either way it39。ll get that submittee off our necks. Cream? TRAUTMAN Black. No sugar. KIRKHILL The League of Families leans on Congress. Then they lean on us. Like we don39。t have enough to worry about in a dozen dirtwater countries. Damnit! He pounds the machine, which refuses to vend. Trautman watches the Special Operations Officer banging ineffectually on the COIN RETURN, amid a million dollars worth of equipment. EXT. FLIGHT TENT A tent next to the camouflage canopy serves as a flight shack for Doyle and his ground crew. Crates serve as tables and stools, and 50gallon fuel drums are the back wall. Doyle, with Rambo and Brewer, continues the game plan. DOYLE A couple klicks from insertion we go vertical to ten thousand and you punch out. Navigate in free fall like a regular HALO jump. You39。ll have a good moon. LIFER (to himself) I got your moon right here... BREWER No problem. Duck soup. Doyle notices that Brewer has casually lit up a cigarette. DOYLE Hey, man... we got fuel on the deck. I don39。t like flying without a plane. Brewer glances at the pool of jet fuel around the pumping area. Rambo plucks the cigarette from Brewer39。s lips. RAMBO No smoking on this mission. It39。s not healthy. He looks Brewer in the eye and flicks the lit butt into the pool of gas. Which puts it out. BREWER Son of a bitch! Rambo saunters away. DOYLE (appreciatively) Nice trick. Works nine times out of ten. EXT. BASE CAMP RUNWAY DUSK The steel planking of the prefabricated runway rings under their feet as Rambo and Brewer run laps. Brewer, between breaths, is chanting a monologue as they draw near. RAMBO Again. BREWER Insertion. Call in to base camp by TRANSAT. Proceed to point Tango November for rendezvous with our ground contact. Indigenous agent. Co Phuong Bao. (in same tone) We39。ve been over this three times. RAMBO You stopped. Brewer rolls his eyes. BREWER Co Phuong Bao. The guide takes us twelve klicks upriver to target at Ban... at Ban... Bo Peep. Shit! RAMBO (flatly) Start over. EXT. BASE CAMP NIGHT Facedown in the dirt near the flightline, Rambo and Brewer are banging off pushups under the floodlight. BREWER (mechanically) ... to target at Ban Kia Na. We probe the site... RAMBO (to himself overlapping) Niy. BREWER ... then proceed downriver to extraction at point Echo Delta. Doyle takes us out by helicopter, we all live happily ever after and that39。s the last time, Rambo! I swear to Christ. RAMBO One hundred. They both collapse, facedown, breathing heavily. Brewer rises first. BREWER Gettin39。 old, huh? RAMBO Yeah. (pause) Second set. Let39。s go. When Rambo rises it is in pushup position