"Hogan, Polivinov, on your feet," General Yermakov barked as he approached their cell, "Your situation has been finalized."
"Well it's about time, dude," Hulk snorted, standing up once the cell door was unlocked, "Now you can see how we...!"
"It's not what you think, Mr. Hogan," Viktor had turned very white, "We're of no further use to them...this means the firing squad...!"
"Firing squad! Now wait a minute, you!" Hulk demanded to Yermakov, "This is going too far! I demand to have a talk with my lawyer, and...!"
"You'll have nothing!" Yermakov slapped him across the face again, "Except the stream of bullets that all criminals deserve! To the firing range with them!" he ordered his guards, who dragged Hulk and Viktor out of the cell and up the hall. "You won't get away with this!" the world champion continued bellowing, "If I die, you'll be guilty of bringing a major international incident on Russia!"
"I don't care what the bourgeois capitalist governments think," Yermakov brushed him off, "And don't bother resisting, Hogan; no one will save you."
"I don't like this," Duggan mused worriedly, glancing through a set of binoculars on top of the hill in the woods above the prison camp, "Looks like they're getting ready for something down there."
"Let me take a look, trooper," Slaughter took the binoculars off him and stared down at the camp. "Yep, looks like preparations for an execution," he grimly ascertained, taking note of guards loading up their rifles in front of what was clearly a firing squad wall. "All right, troops," he turned back to the rest of his "command," "We'll have to forego any attempts at subterfuge and try a full-on frontal assault."
"Hold on, you mean plow right in there?" Steamboat was frowning, "No offense, Sarge, but even with a supermagnet..."
"I love it, Sarge; lock and load, everyone," looking thrilled, Piper started handing out rotten pies, cakes, and other pastries scavenged from Vera's bakery. "Shame we can't use real ammo to blow the joint up," he looked rather diasppointed.
"Roddy, I said already, I want no blood; we can't stoop to their level," Bret reminded him, handing up several canisters of jam.
"Yeah, yeah, I know, Hartsie; we've got to stay on the high and mighty," the Scotsman looked unconvinced, "At least these bulletproof vests'll come in handy," he tapped at the one under his coat before shoving some jam cannisters down the breech of the assault vehicle's enormous main gun, "And at least all this rotten food'll be good for something."
"Shame they waste so much food there at the bakery through poor storage," Elizabeth looked with regret at the maggot-ridden pies in her hand before handing them up to the Boss Man to load into another gun, "When half the country is starving, the least they could do is make all the food better. Oh well, like Roddy says, at least this way, it won't go completely to waste. Now if we can get in and out in one piece..."
"You're not worried, are you, Private Hulette?" Slaughter raised an eyebrow at her.
"No, but it's just...you may be a well-traveled and honored military man, Sergeant; I'm just a small town girl from Kentucky who had a fondness for wrestling as a girl; getting involved in the Cold War was never anything I had in my plans," she admitted.
"Don't worry; the Marine Corps motto is never leave a man-or woman-behind," Slaughter assured her.
"And we certainly don't leave them behind dead either; she ain't gonna be in harm's way at all," Savage said firmly, sliding alongside his wife and whispering, "Just stay on the cab floor once we're in; I don't want any bullets flying at you. But if any of them break into the cab, just kick them in the nuts and yell like crazy; I'll take it from there."
Looking more than a little nervous about what was now eminent, Elizabeth nodded and quickly slid into the cab. "Speed it up, you guys; I think they're about to line up Hulk in front of the wall," Duggan gulped, staring intently through his binoculars into the prison.
"Private Traylor, start her up; we're going in in T minus two minutes," Slaughter ordered the Boss Man, who promptly leaped into the driver's seat and turned the key in the ignition. Looking like he was on top of the world, Slaughter clambered up to the assault truck's upper deck. "Private Piper, prepare to fire some warning shots into their perimeter to add some cover," he ordered the Scotsman.
"You got it, Sarge," Piper eagerly started cranking the main gun up into position, "Radar...about to be...jammed..."
"Terry 'Hulk' Hogan, you have been convicted of first degree murder against a citizen of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics," Yermakov grimly read out the execution order to his two prisoners, who were being handcuffed to posts in front of the firing squad wall before the troop of six armed executioners, "Viktor Alexeevich Polivinov, you have been convicted of treason against the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, harboring its enemies and helping further their cause. The sentence for each of your crimes is death by firing squad. Have either of you any last words?"
"I regret that I have only one life to give for my country," Hulk snarled defiantly, "And God bless America."
He spit once more at Yermakov's feet. "You?" the KGB general asked Viktor, who lowered his head and started sniffing in fear. "Very well. Blindfolds or cigarettes?" he asked his prisoners.
"Go to hell," Hulk barked at him.
"Indeed you will, Hogan you swine," came Ivan's taunting voice to the champion. The Russian Bear was striding towards him, the world championship belt in hand and Nikita, his head hung low, in tow. "This is going to a true champion now, not like you," Ivan mocked him, waving the belt in Hulk's face, "Now at last, you will learn that Mother Russia is invincible."
"You're no better than Volkoff, Koloff," Hulk snarled, "You disgrace real Russians, and the...!"
"Enough," Yermakov slapped him once more and waved Ivan out of the path of the firing squad, then stepped out of harm's way himself. Hulk took a deep breath, hoping for a last minute Christmas miracle. But it didn't appear imminent as the firing squad cocked their guns. "Ready!" Yermakov barked at them, "Aim...!"
Suddenly, a loud shrieking sound rang out in the air. "What is this!" Yermakov glanced skyward, worried. Hulk saw it too: a bright light arcing straight into the prison camp, slamming into the ground inches away from the firing squad and exploding in a blast of red, sending the would-be executioners running in panic. Another salvo slammed to the bottom of a watch tower, followed by a third that painted several prison trucks red. Yermakov crawled over to where the first projectile had landed and sniffed at it. "Jam!" he exclaimed out loud. "Regain your cool!" he shouted to any guards within earshot, "We're being attacked by jam...!"
But his words fell moot as, with a loud crash, a huge vehicle slammed through the prison's front gates. "Destroy it; destroy that thing!" Yermakov roared at anyone who wasn't running away in panic. The firing squad took aim and fired away at the giant truck as it slid to a halt in the middle of the courtyard, as did the guards on the watchtowers and a few stragglers on the ground. But then, a flash of lights and then a low hum burst up on the top of the truck, and in seconds, the guards were crying out in unison as their guns were abruptly pulled out of their hands and flew through the air, attaching the to truck's supermagnet. "No, no, no!" Ivan shrieked, pulling hard on the world championship belt to keep it from the same fate, but it too flew away and slammed into the magnet.
"Look out, Ruskies, here comes the Hacksaw to cut you down! HOOOOOOOO!" Duggan dove off the top of the truck, flattening the nearest guard with a two by four chop to the head. With another overly loud Celtic war cry, Piper also dove off on top of another guard, as did Steamboat, who flattened several rushing at him with a quick series of karate moves, which provided convenient cover for Andre and the Boss Man to slip through a nearby door practically undetected. The rest of the team fired off various weapons, loaded with the rotten pastries and other unusual projectiles at the guards still standing. The supermagnet continued humming and attracting every piece of metal in the courtyard, including the belt buckles on the guards, whose pants were soon falling down almost in unison; indeed, the watchtowers were now also starting to sway visibly. And Hulk felt his handcuffs being pulled away; indeed they snapped clean off his wrists in a flash, as did Viktor's. Come on, brother, let's move!" he took the apartment manager's wrist and started to run.
"Oh no you don't! Igor, Georgy!" Yermakov shouted to the two hulking guards, who grabbed the two men around the waist before they could get far. "Break their necks!" the KGB general shouted, futilely trying to grab hold of his medals as they flew away from his grasp towards the magnet.
"HOOOOO!" Duggan rushed the two guards and nailed them with a two by four shot each. Unfortunately, he didn't see Yermakov pull out a smaller gun, cup his hands around it to avoid it getting pulled away, and take aim at him until he turned and saw the barrel pointed right at his face...
...at which point the KGB general was bonked on the head from behind with an enormous plank of wood, sending him down to the ground. Duggan's eyes shot upwards to see Nikita standing over Yermakov, holding the plank. "You...?" he was amazed.
"NOW do you trust me?" Nikita flung the plank towards the nearest door, bowling over several more guards trying to rush out and join the fight. There came a loud crash as the supermagnet finally pulled over one of the watchtowers, sending it crashing hard to the ground, the men on top barely jumping to the ground in time. And then, there came another loud shout from another nearby doorway. "No!" a dazed Yermakov shouted from the ground, seeing numerous prisoners pouring out the door, very much free, "No, not a jailbreak now!"
He frantically dug through his pockets for something else, but Slaughter's foot came down on his chest, pinning down the hand. "Don't even think about it, maggot," the former drill sergeant warned him. He reached into Yermakov's pocket himself, pulled out the hand grenade he'd been going for, pulled the pin, and tossed it into the nearest wall, which promptly had a large hole blown in it. Another swarm of prisoners barrelled through it, overwhelming most of the rest of the guards still on their feet and rushing for the gate-and some for the trucks by the gate. In the middle of the swarm, Andre and the Boss Man reappeared, grinning. They rushed over to where Slaughter was standing. "Mission accomplished, Sarge," the former prison guard told the former Marine with a smile, "The oppressed are being freed at the moment, as you can see."
"Good work, Private Traylor; the Marines' motto is never leave any man behind, especially prisoners," Slaughter glowered down at the dazed Yermakov, "This is our guy."
"Is he now?" the Boss Man's expression darkened as he drew his handcuffs and slapped them on Yermakov, "Well, boy, you're going to give us a full confession on everything by the time we get to the stadium!"
"I know nothing; I'm just a low level man!" Yermakov insisted defiantly, "You'll never get anything out of me!"
"Oh I don't know about that," Andre, grinning, hefted the KGB general clean off the ground and hauled him towards one of the trucks not being commendeered by escapees, "I think you'll have plenty to tell me during the ride..."
With another loud crash, another watchtower fell over. Prison vehicles now filled with escapees were barrelling out the prison gate to freedom, in spite of the few standing guards shooting away at them. With a roar of its engine, the oversized assault vehicle lurched towards the gate itself, the magnet still humming loudly. "Hey, don't leave without us!" Hulk shouted at his teammates. "Come on, dude, we're getting out of here," he took Viktor by the arm and rushed after the truck, Slaughter and Duggan in tow. The remaining guards were too busy trying to catch the escapees still streaming all over the compound to pay them any attention. But just as they reached the threshhold of the gate and liberty...
"Oh no you don't!" Ivan suddenly jumped in front of them, a machine gun in hand and a cruel look on his face. "Mother Russia WILL have the world title, Hogan, and that means you die to make sure of it!" he roared, cocking the gun, which was too far away from the supermagnet to be affected by it, and aiming it right at Hulk's face...
"Stop!" from out of nowhere from behind, Nikita quickly jumped in front of the world champion, blocking the shot. "Stand aside, Nikita!" Ivan ordered his nephew with a strong wave of the hand.
"No!" Nikita folded his arms across his chest in defiance.
"I said stand aside, Nikita! I don't care how much they brainwashed you, you cannot stop the triumph of the socialist...!"
"Then you'll have to shoot me, Uncle Ivan!" his nephew shouted at him, making Ivan stop in shock, "If the triumph of Communism is more important than my life, then go ahead and pull the trigger, but Hulk Hogan is innocent, and human conscience forbids letting an innocent man die! So what will it be, Uncle Ivan?"
"Nikita...!" stunned, Ivan's hands wavered on the machine gun, "How...why...after everything I've done for you to further your career...!"
"And I'm grateful for that and everything you've done for me, Uncle Ivan," Nikita put a sympathetic hand on his uncle's shoulder, "You've been like a father to me, and I love you like a father. But you are wrong with all this," he pointed at the machine gun, "And I'm doing this because I don't want to see you become something terrible. General Yermakov and Comrade Menzhinsky's scheme's over, history, kaput. The world title should be decided fairly, Uncle Ivan, not like this," he gestured at the prison camp behind them, "So what will it be? Perfect Communist ideals, or fair play?"
For a moment, Ivan stared straight into his nephew's face. Then, with a sad sigh, he lowered his head and the machine gun. "Thank you, Uncle Ivan; you are still a true man," Nikita commended him proudly.
"All right then, troopers; Moscow awaits!" Slaughter shouted, rushing along with Duggan towards the assault vehicle, which had briefly stopped to allow the stragglers to catch up. "Come, quickly," Nikita took Hulk's hand and dragged him towards the rear bumper. They grabbed hold of the hand railings and pulled themselves up, leaving a sad Ivan behind at the gate to mumble, "Nikita, my boy, what will it take for us to see eye to eye again?" "Well, how does it feel to be free again, champ?" Savage asked his fellow Mega Power once he was on top of the truck (Nikita still hanging on to the rear bumper). He didn't let Hulk immediately answer, instead firing a few final stale pies out of one of the long guns backwards at a handful of guards running futilely after them and the truck the Boss Man and Andre were taking Yermakov along in, which was barrelling along the road behind them now.
"Never felt better, Randy, never felt better," Hulk pulled the world championship belt off the supermagnet and clasped it into place around his waist, "Glad to have this piece of gold back too."
"That's all?" Savage raised his eyebrows, "Not a word of thanks for your partner in the Mega Powers helping to get you out of this...?"
"Oh Hulk, we were all worried sick they were going to kill you in there," Elizabeth climbed up to the top as well and threw her arms around the champion in relief (which sent Savage's eyebrows shooting up even higher), "Did they hurt you bad in there?"
"They gave me their worst, but I'm still standing," Hulk declared firmly, "Now I just want to give Volkoff the soundest thrashing of his career in honor of every single American citizen."
"That's the easy part probably, yeah; I just hope the weather holds for the next thirty miles so we can get there," Savage glanced up at the snowflakes now falling quite hard. "Viktor old pal, good to see you're OK too," he told their host, slapping his hand.
"Vera and the kids...?" Viktor had to ask.
"Perfectly all right, and they'll probably be waiting in the front row at the stadium for you when we arrive, yeah," the Macho Man assured him, "Sarge gave them tickets so they'd be in front of the cameras and the KGB wouldn't harrass them till we got you out, yeah."
"We'll try and get you both there as fast as possible, Hulk, Viktor," Bret leaned up from the gun emplacement (now dripping with raspberry sauce) right below the champion, "I just hope Tito and Davey bought us enough time to keep Volkoff from being declared champion by default..."