The Expendables 5: The Solstice Protocol

I. The Best Action is No Action

The air in the Swiss Alps was crisp, cold, and smelled faintly of pine and high-grade explosives. It was Christmas Eve, and the Expendables—Barney Ross, Lee Christmas, Toll Road, and Gunner Jensen—were huddled inside a repurposed snowcat, parked precariously on a ridge overlooking a massive, isolated facility known as the ‘Aethelred Vault.’

The Vault, a marvel of anti-intrusion architecture, was currently hosting the annual ‘Solstice Gala,’ a gathering of the world’s most discreet trillionaires. Their mission: not demolition, but extraction. They were guarding a digital asset known as the Solstice Protocol Key, a piece of software that controlled a significant portion of global liquidity, currently being transferred for a high-stakes auction.

Lee Christmas, perpetually restless, was sharpening one of his custom throwing knives against a whetstone, the metallic hiss cutting through the silence.

“I’d kill for some action,” Christmas muttered, glancing at Barney.

Barney, nursing a lukewarm coffee, didn’t flinch. “No killing today, Christmas. We are just delivering the package. This is a milk run. In and out. The client wants minimum fuss, maximum discretion.”

“Discretion is for spies, Barney,” Christmas grumbled. “We’re the noise. We’re the fuss. We’re the guys who break the door down.”

“And that, son, is why you’re still learning,” Barney replied, his eyes scanning the thermal readouts. “The best action is no action. We get paid the same either way.”

Toll Road, ever the pragmatist, adjusted his headset. “Barney’s right. The security here is layered. We go loud, we lose the element of surprise, and we risk the asset. We’re ghosts tonight.”

Gunner Jensen, unusually quiet, was staring intently at a small, encrypted satellite phone, his expression unreadable. He had been distant for weeks, his usual manic energy replaced by a cold, calculating focus.

“Gunner, you good?” Barney asked.

Gunner snapped out of his reverie, forcing a smile. “Never better, Barney. Just thinking about all that money. Enough to buy a small country, huh?”

“Enough to buy a lot of trouble,” Barney corrected. “Focus. We move in five.”

The infiltration was textbook. They bypassed the perimeter sensors, scaled the ice wall, and entered the Vault’s ventilation system. The Key was secured in a central data core, guarded by a small, private security detail.

As they reached the core chamber, the trap sprung.

The lights didn’t go out; they went red. Sirens wailed, and heavy steel blast doors slammed shut, sealing the team inside the narrow corridor.

“We are getting robbed and we need backup!” Christmas yelled, drawing his knives as armored guards poured out of hidden alcoves.

“Too late,” Toll Road grunted, slamming his hand against the comms panel. “We’re being jammed. Hard frequency block. Someone knew our frequency.”

The fight was brutal, confined, and immediate. The Expendables fought back-to-back, their years of synchronized violence kicking in. But these guards were different—faster, better equipped, and seemingly anticipating every move.

Then came the betrayal.

As Barney ducked under a swinging stun baton, he saw Gunner step back, his massive frame blocking the only exit. Gunner wasn’t fighting the guards; he was fighting them.

Gunner raised his customized assault rifle, not at Barney, but at the data core. He fired a specialized EMP round, frying the security system and opening the vault door.

“Gunner, what the hell are you doing?” Barney roared, dodging a spray of bullets.

Gunner’s face was a mask of cold desperation. “I told you, Barney. Enough money to buy a country. And I need it.”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He grabbed the Solstice Protocol Key—a small, titanium drive—and sprinted into the open vault, leaving the rest of the team trapped in a crossfire.

Toll Road was hit, his leg buckling. Christmas was pinned down. And then, the ultimate blow: a secondary explosion ripped through the corridor, collapsing the ceiling and separating the team.

Barney saw a flash of movement—a fifth member of their team, Ian Yang, who had been providing silent overwatch, was caught in the blast wave. Ian Yang, the younger brother of their former martial arts expert, Yang, was crushed beneath a collapsing support beam, his body instantly still.

Gunner didn’t look back. He was gone.

II. The Reckoning and the New Team

Barney was buried under rubble for nearly an hour. When he finally clawed his way out, the facility was silent, the robbers gone, and the remaining guards scattered. Toll Road was alive but badly injured. Christmas was gone, having pursued Gunner into the complex. And Ian Yang was dead.

Barney dragged Toll Road to a secure, abandoned maintenance shed. He needed to call for help, but the jamming was still active.

Hours later, as the first light of Christmas Day broke over the snow-covered peaks, a faint, encrypted signal pierced the jamming field. It was Gina, the team’s new tech specialist and field commander, who had been waiting in reserve.

“Hello Barney, it’s Gina, Expendables team leader,” her voice was strained, laced with exhaustion and fury. “We were attacked. I managed to survive. I saw the aftermath. Gunner betrayed the team to get the money.”

Barney felt the cold rage settle deep in his bones. “Gunner… how could you do this?”

“It gets worse, Barney,” Gina whispered. “Ian Yang is gone. Gunner took him out during the collapse to ensure silence. He’s dead.”

The news hit Barney like a physical blow. Ian Yang was a kid, barely in his twenties, trying to prove himself. He was family.

Barney found Christmas huddled in the snow outside the shed, his hands bloody, his face etched with grief.

“I lost him, Barney,” Christmas choked out. “I tracked him to a chopper, but I couldn’t stop him. He got away with the Key.”

“We’ll get him, Christmas,” Barney promised. “We’ll get him.”

But they couldn’t do it alone. Toll Road was out. Gunner was the enemy. They were outnumbered, outgunned, and facing a betrayal that cut deeper than any wound.

“We’re going to need a new team to rescue Christmas,” Barney declared, meaning both the man and the spirit of the holiday they were fighting to save.

Barney knew exactly who to call. He needed muscle, he needed precision, and he needed people who operated outside the traditional mercenary playbook. He needed the ‘Ghosts.’

III. The Ghosts

Barney flew the recovered snowcat to a remote airfield in Austria, where two figures were waiting on the tarmac beside a heavily customized VTOL jet.

The first was Maverick (Keanu Reeves), a former intelligence asset turned philosophical contractor. He was lean, dressed in tactical black, and moved with a quiet, lethal grace. The second was Juggernaut (Dwayne Johnson), a mountain of muscle and firepower, his presence alone enough to intimidate a small army.

“Barney Ross,” Maverick greeted, his voice calm. “I heard you had a bad day.”

“Betrayal is always a bad day, Maverick,” Barney said. “Gunner Jensen. He took the Key and he killed one of ours. Ian Yang.”

Christmas stepped forward, his eyes burning with vengeance. “Ian Yang is your brother? Yes. Because of Gunner, now he’s gone. I had no idea Gunner had a brother.”

Maverick looked at Christmas, then back at Barney. “Gunner’s brother, Ian, was killed years ago in a botched op. Gunner never got over it. He’s been chasing a ghost of his own. But Ian Yang… that’s a different kind of debt.”

“I don’t care about his debt,” Christmas spat. “I care about the blood on his hands.”

“Then we have a common goal,” Maverick said, stepping onto the ramp of the jet. “The Key is heading to a rendezvous point in the Black Sea. A floating fortress owned by the man who hired Gunner—The Broker. He’s the architect of the chaos, the one who wants the financial reset.”

Juggernaut stepped forward, his voice a low rumble. “The Broker is protected by a private army. We are three men, one injured, and one driven by vengeance. We are outnumbered.”

“We’re the Expendables,” Barney countered. “We’re always outnumbered. We just need to be better.” He looked at Maverick. “You in?”

Maverick smiled faintly. “The best action is no action, Barney. But sometimes, the only way to achieve peace is through maximum, overwhelming force. I’m in.”

IV. The Black Sea Fortress

The Broker’s fortress was a decommissioned oil platform, retrofitted with state-of-the-art defenses, anchored in the stormy, freezing waters of the Black Sea. It was a monument to greed and isolation.

The plan was simple: Maverick and Christmas would infiltrate the lower levels via submersible, using their stealth and close-quarters combat skills to secure the communications array. Barney and Juggernaut would breach the main deck, going loud to draw attention.

As they prepared the gear on the VTOL, Juggernaut was loading specialized C4 charges into a backpack.

“Careful with the C4, Juggernaut,” Barney warned. “It’s unstable.”

Juggernaut hefted the pack, his massive shoulders barely noticing the weight. “Yeah, well, everything’s unstable, Barney. The global economy, Gunner’s sanity, and my patience for philosophical mercenaries.” He nodded toward Maverick. “Speak for yourself.”

The infiltration was textbook chaos.

Maverick and Christmas moved like shadows through the platform’s maintenance tunnels. They reached the comms room, where Christmas, driven by a silent, focused rage, neutralized the guards with terrifying speed and precision.

“Comms are open,” Christmas reported, his voice tight. “But Gunner is on the main deck, handing over the Key.”

Meanwhile, Barney and Juggernaut made their entrance. Juggernaut, using the C4, blew a hole the size of a truck through the reinforced hangar door.

“Merry Christmas, you filthy animals!” Juggernaut roared, laying down suppressive fire with a mounted grenade launcher.

The main deck erupted in a firefight. Barney, moving with the practiced efficiency of a man who had done this a thousand times, focused on reaching the command center.

He was intercepted by Gunner.

Gunner was waiting, the Solstice Key clutched in one hand, a heavy machine gun in the other. He looked haunted, his eyes red-rimmed, but resolute.

“Barney,” Gunner said, his voice cracking. “You shouldn’t have come.”

“You killed Ian Yang, Gunner,” Barney said, dropping his weapon and raising his hands. “You betrayed us for money. After everything we’ve done.”

“It wasn’t just money!” Gunner screamed, tears mixing with the sweat on his face. “It was life! My sister’s kid—he needs a medical treatment that costs more than this entire fortress! I had no choice!”

“There’s always a choice, Gunner,” Barney said, taking a slow step forward. “And you chose to kill family.”

Gunner opened fire. Barney dove behind a stack of shipping containers, the bullets ripping through the metal.

V. Piece of Cake

The fight devolved into a chaotic, personal duel. Barney, unarmed, used the environment, drawing Gunner into a close-quarters trap.

Meanwhile, Christmas and Maverick reached the main deck. Christmas saw Gunner and Barney fighting and his vengeance surged.

“He’s mine,” Christmas hissed, launching himself toward Gunner, knives flashing.

Maverick, however, saw the larger threat: The Broker.

The Broker, a thin, impeccably dressed man in a tuxedo, was attempting to activate the Key in the central command console.

“The Key is the real target, Christmas!” Maverick yelled, engaging The Broker’s remaining elite guard.

Christmas hesitated for a split second. Vengeance or the mission? He chose the mission. He peeled off, joining Maverick in the assault on the command center.

Barney finally disarmed Gunner, slamming him against a railing. “You don’t know,” Gunner gasped, defeated. “You don’t know what it’s like to have everything you love depend on a number.”

“I know what it’s like to choose,” Barney said, his face inches from Gunner’s. “And you chose wrong.”

Suddenly, the platform shuddered violently. Juggernaut, having cleared the lower deck, had overloaded the main reactor.

“Barney! We’ve got about five minutes before this thing becomes a submarine!” Juggernaut yelled over the comms.

The Broker, seeing his plan dissolving, grabbed a hostage—Gina, who had just arrived on the main deck.

“Stop! Or the girl dies!” The Broker shrieked, holding a knife to Gina’s throat.

Maverick raised his weapon, his aim perfect. “You waste his mercy. You come back for that girl. You won’t see him again. You’ll see me. And I don’t do warnings.”

The Broker laughed maniacally. “You think you can stop the inevitable? This is just the beginning!”

Maverick fired. Not at The Broker, but at a steam pipe directly behind him. The sudden burst of scalding vapor caused The Broker to flinch, dropping Gina.

Christmas moved instantly, retrieving the Key and tossing it to Barney.

“Go! I’ll handle the clean-up!” Christmas yelled, turning his attention back to Gunner, who was trying to crawl away.

Barney looked at the Key, then at the collapsing platform, then at Christmas and Gunner. He had to make a choice.

“Everybody home!” Barney commanded.

He grabbed Christmas, pulling him toward the escape route. “The mission is the priority!”

They reached the VTOL, which was hovering precariously over the collapsing platform. Juggernaut was already inside, providing cover fire.

As the jet lifted off, Barney looked down. Gunner was still on the deck, surrounded by the wreckage, looking up at the sky. He was not pursuing them. He was accepting his fate.

The entire fortress exploded in a massive fireball, the Solstice Gala ending in a spectacular, fiery display.

Back in the air, the team slumped in exhaustion. The Key was secure. The threat was neutralized. But the cost was high.

“Piece of cake,” Christmas muttered, wiping blood from his forehead.

“I mean, you know, unless it isn’t,” Juggernaut finished dryly.

Barney looked at the Key in his hand. They had saved the world’s economy, but they had lost a brother and exiled another. The Expendables had survived, but the betrayal had left a permanent scar. The best action might be no action, but sometimes, the only way to save Christmas was to destroy everything that stood in its way. And that, Barney knew, was the true meaning of the holiday for men like them.