I’ve produced the third in a series of Rambo vignettes entitled, “The Hunt” and am shopping it around. The 1,360-word fictional piece is set in a dystopian near-future in which regional wars fought by both human and alien mercenaries abound.
… the Rambos are the meanest, orneriest, most despicable form of life in the galaxy. They fight for Black Scorpion, Limited. Unlike the human mercenaries they fight alongside with, the Rambos fight for one reason and one reason only—for blood sport. Money don’t mean shit to them.”
“Do they speak any human languages?” a soldier asked.
“They speak better English than you, Janson.”
A few chuckled.
“Most of them are multilingual. I met one that spoke sixteen different Earth languages. They’re smart mothers. They’re big. And they’re afraid of nothing. If they kill you, they’ll take your scalps or your thumbs for souvenirs. The good news is, they bleed and die just like us. So, make sure they die first.”
After a moment, someone said, “If you call that yellow puke they have in ’em blood…”