Tropa Sopas

Hi, everyone. Here's another Call of Duty fan story. Set in the after the events of Black Ops, of course. Based on a wordplay I've got hanging in my mind. Tropas means troops in Spanish and Sopas means soup in Spanish too. From that I've whipped up an insane brew of comedy involving Black Ops and soup.

Chapter 1- Team Expendable

1969, 0459 Hours, somewhere near Cuba

Our heroes, Alex Mason; Jason Hudson and Grigori Weaver, are now going to Cuba to stop the evil commies from plotting to take over the world. Hudson briefed them on the way aboard the Huey. They are enjoying a leisurely cruise over the water, listening to Rolling Stones. It will be sundown soon and the team planned to land before dark.

"There's been a lot of activity here in Cuba around the Mariposa Airbase," Hudson explained to Mason and Weaver.

"What's Langley's prerogative in there?" Mason asked.

"It seemed the Cubans are researching a new kind of weapon with Soviet aid," Hudson said ominously with epic music.

"Oh really?" Weaver's skeptical, "how are they gonna do that? All they make are cigars, rum and pineapples."

"Shut up, Weaver," Hudson snapped, "you're ruining the best part."

"Fine, fine," he grumbled.

Hudson turned back to Mason, "Okay, here's what our contact gave us." He gave Mason a picture of a massive giant fantasy hacienda surrounded by heavily-armed guards.

"What's this?"Mason asked.

"The research facility," Hudson answered. "It seemed Castro has given this project a lot of backing."

"Yeah," Weaver added, "It looks something from Candy Land."

No joke, considering that the hacienda is white with rainbow swirls. In it are fanciful murals of fantasy... things. Whoever made it probably built Willy Wonka's chocolate factory. It came fully equipped with blood-red lollipops, cherry red cobblestones, lemon drop stone walls, chocolate trees and whatever kiddy stuff came into the architect's mind.

"Well..." Hudson said awkwardly, "this place seems to be based on Dr. Seuss..." The ice cube simply couldn't imagine something as hallucinogenic as this. Probably built for those fucked-up hippies, he thought.

"Well, commies couldn't get shittier than this." Weaver laughed. "If there so great about equality, I should wipe my ass with pages of Marx's Das Kapital and Communist Manifesto with no probelms."

"And here's more," Hudson added taking some photos of from a manila envelope. "These guys are the top dogs connected to the project." He handed the pictures for them to look at.

The first one is a man wearing a the uniform of a prestigious chef. He looked like he was making souffle in a busy kitchen.

"This man is the head of the head of the project, Francisco Hernandez, known as Sopas Chef. He graduated top of his class from the Ritz Escoffier , '56, and the Ecole du Cordon Bleu , '57. He served Castro's guerrilla campaign, providing food for his revolutionaries and killing several high-ranking Batista regime officials with enhanced food poisoning. Before volunteering for project, he served as Castro's personal chef."

"Wow, this guy's loaded," Mason commented.

"Yawn," Weaver yawned mockingly. "So what? Castro's chef got balls? I like to see that."

"Here's the another picture." Hudson fished out another one. It's a picture of a hot Latina girl with a pair of pistols. In the picture she's in a bombed-out village during the Spanish Civil War. On the ground are scores of Spanish Nationalist troops with holes on the their foreheads.

"The woman is Maria Andrea Fuentes. She fought on the Republican- that is Leftist- side during the Spanish Civil War. Fuentes is so good with the pistol that General Franco, the leader of the Nationalist forces, instituted a bounty for her head."

"Wow, she's hot," Weaver's eyes widened to the size of saucepans. "She's working with Castro too?"

"Yes... cause she's his auntie." Hudson replied dryly. Weaver had a brain fart. That was such a shocking surprise.

Ignoring Weaver, Hudson fished out a third picture, a Russian officer who stood in attention near the statue of Lenin, who looked like he's covering his ears. He said, "This man here is the KGB's liaison officer to the project, Radomir Shovsky. Formerly a music student from the Saint Petersburg Conservatory in Leningrad, he was picked by the KGB after he was kicked out of music school due to his... bad voice. He became an interrogation officer where he had a reputation in the gulags for making prisoners spell their secrets and their bladders. He does it by singing."

"Singing?" Mason asked dubiously.

"Yes," Hudson answered, "he does that. He was promoted as a the go-between the Cubans and Russians concerning the project. He was denied promotion and assignment to several KGB posts back home, due to his singing voice and reject mentality."

"Reject mentality?" Weaver asked, "What for?"

"He requested to be a member of KGB's domestic intelligence service on political subversives on the culture. He was denied because he planned to use that position to get rid of his former classmates from music school. They feared he would destroy Soviet musical prowess with that and his voice."

"Oh, what does his voice sound like?" Mason asked inquisitively.

Hudson shuddered a bit. "Uh, you don't want to know."

"I wanna know," Mason demanded.

"No, Mason. Not now."

"But I wanna know!" Mason cried like a baby. Weaver punched and calmed him down.

"Better," Hudson commented as he fished it a fourth photo. It featured a man with a bush hat and and khakis. "This man," he pointed out, "is the Dingo. He is an expert assassin with a reputation well known throughout intelligence agencies throughout the world. It's widely believed that he orchestrated President Kennedy's assassination and used Oswald as the fall guy. Tonight we collect his ass." Mason suddenly remembered that he killed Kennedy so he whistled away a tune like nothing happened.

Ignoring him, Hudson took out picture no. 5 of a sinister-looking man in a dirty blue jumpsuit with his hands clasped in an evil pyramid. "This individual here is El Mechanico. An genius in design and technology, he is believed to have helped build an ultimate weapon involving far greater than anyone could ever imagine. But the project is buried so deep that we can't tell for certain about what it is."

"And how did we get this info?" Mason asked curious.

"I don't know for sure but he was a top security man who wanted to go to Miami and set up a restaurant. He told us that he was able to obtain this info by sleeping with Castro." That earned him odd looks from his teammates.

"He... did... that?" Weaver stammered, couldn't quite believing his ears.

"Yes," Hudson said firmly, "yes he did."

"What kind of people do you recruit for contacts?" Mason asked.

"All sorts of people," Hudson replied, "And this is the last time we will be discussing their private lives."

So they didn't. They picked another picture of a North Korean guy with big ass swords. "This man here is Kim Ass-Fung, an elite assassin on loan from the North Koreans. He's a ninja who open a can of whoop-ass on anybody."

Weaver leaned over to to look at the picture and grinned. "What's so special about besides opening a can of whoop-ass?"

"He chopped of the nuts of several French guys when he flew over to Vietnam to support Ho Chi Minh's war effort. And he cooked them for his dogs." Hudson explained. Weaver squirmed and shielded his nuts with both hands.

Photograph number seven appeared with a German officer. "Heinz Schutze, An escaped SS officer who's an expert in torture, taking the place of Friedrich Steiner as token Nazi."

"He must die!" Mason screamed in rage.

"Yeah, whatever," Hudson deadpanned as he finally fished out a eighth photograph portrayed a smiling man wearing a red Hammer-and Sickle bandanna with lots of dynamite in a what must have been a coal mine. "This guy is Crazy Ivan, demolition expert. He came from the Ural Mountains blowing stuff up. Proceed with extreme caution."

Weaver stared at Ivan's rape face for a while and found himself shaking. Mason looked too and noted, "This guy's needs a girlfriend."

"He blew up his girlfriend," Hudson said.

"Oh."

The pilot informed them ,"Okay, everyone, this is Langley Airways. We're pleased to inform you that we have visual of the LZ. ETA fifteen minutes. Please take time to take your luggage of the overhead racks." He turned on the radio to ship to inform its mothership, the Enterprise, uh, I mean, the Liberace, a CIA merchant ship sitting outside of Cuban waters. "Doc Seuss, this is Tinkerbell, we are confirming insert in Grid One-Niner-Four."

"Copy that, Tinkerbell, that is affirmative. Please proceed." The ship confirmed.

"Okay, Doc Seuss, acknowledged," replied the pilot. He then announced to the cabin, "Buckle up your seatbelts, ladies and gentlemen, for the final approach to rum and beautiful sunsets, Cuba. Watch out for SAM and Triple-A-induced turbulence 'cause this is gonna be one rocky ride." Everyone did and lock and loaded as the Huey flew into the blazing red sunset.

Meanwhile, back aboard the Liberace...

"Confirmed," mission control announced, "they are beginning their infil into Cuban territory."

"You think it's a good idea to send them into Cuba knowing they'll never come back?" President Richard Nixon asked Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara concerning the mission.

"Yes, that's why it's a suicide mission," the Secretary of Defense replied. "Besides, this is why it's called a black op. Deniable operations." He emphasized the first word. "We know such a mission where the fate of the world hangs on the balance we need brave men to undertake them. But if they lose, we could just say to the Kremlin Gremlins that a bunch of wackos escaped from a psych ward , stole a chopper and landed into Cuba, searching for booze."

"I like that story, Rob," the president smiled, "but is it foolproof?"

"Foolproof? You can bet your ass on it, Dick!" McNamara grinned and turned on a TV with a video featuring several actors making a poor portrayal of Hudson, Mason and Weaver escaping from Walter Reed Hospital, going into Andrews Airbase to steal a Huey and fly all their way into Cuba in what looked like a badly-produced B-movie.

"Wow!" Nixon was surprised. "Very authentic. For a second there I thought it was them."

"You're right," McNamara chimed despite the obviously bad set and insane piss-poor acting. "The Russians will never know the difference."

"But what if the succeed? Should we take them back?"

"Nah, we just leave them there, Dick," the secretary of defense deadpanned. "Team Expendable."

"Right on," Nixon chimed as they jumped to their feet and high-fived, laughing like little girls. What they didn't know is that a KGB yellow submarine has been recording the entire conversation the whole time through on-board bugs. It submerged back into the water so it would play the video in Moscow for shits and giggles.

HAHAHA! Looks like our heroes are screwed even before their mission started. Will they succeed or will they fail epically? Read, enjoy and review the insanity.

Mariposa - Butterfly(Spanish).
Dingo - parody of Frederick Forsyth 's The Jackal from The Day of The Jackal and a certain TF2 character.