Mercenary Black Mamba - Chapter 31
Suddenly from the east, the sky brightened. A shower of meteorites rained upon them. It was a rare sight, and, at the same time, it was the signal to start the battle.
Black Mamba became an assassin. He was as stealthy as a snake and as agile as a puma. The deadly killer encroached the elite Pahali squad. Pahali’s elite squad had a lot of battle experience. Their ability to swing a dagger was like no other. As if they had made a promise with the enemy, they, too, were holding daggers and guns.
Pahali was flabbergasted. Their attacker was seriously insane. No one had ever heard of anyone coming into battling while swinging a sword and wielding a sniper gun. The battle soon changed to bloodshed. They had hoped to win through endurance but, amazingly, that didn’t seem to be working. If they didn’t want to die, then they would have to kill him.
Fweet— fweet— fwee— Pahali blew a whistle, which was the length of two fingers, in two, short, sharp blasts. It was the signal to separate into two groups to engage in battle.
Emil stopped shooting for cover. He felt frustrated. Once they headed into battle, the machine gun became useless. He stared adamantly into his night-vision goggles.
On the fifth ridge of the valley, Black Mamba and the guerrillas started the battle. They were 250 meters away. With the night-vision goggles that magnified them 12 times, he could see the spurting of blood between them.
Emil waited for the result with tired, red eyes. The guerrilla forces had received training to kill, and they were as agile as pumas. He wasn’t confident that he could take on even one of them.
Emil abandoned the machine gun and pasted his eyes on the night-vision goggles. He could see Black Mamba flying from one boulder to the next. Through the night-vision goggles, he looked like a blue lizard. Every time he saw him, he couldn’t help but gasp in awe. Black Mamba climbed over the boulder and swung upside-down.
“Gasp!” Emil exclaimed. It was a boulder that was at least 10 meters high. The kukri ax landed squarely on the guerrilla’s head. He could see the guerrilla cringe in surprise from below the boulder. Black Mamba seemed to be gaining immense strength.
The blade shred through the front and out the back. The crunching of breaking bones could be heard. Pouring blood filled his vision through the lens. Emil’s stomach lurched.
Crash— Black Mamba swung his left hand back and put all his strength behind it. The guerrilla that was charging with a sword fell headfirst, and a powerful kick landed on his chin. As if his joints had become rubber, his body twisted and collapsed.
The guerrilla who had been wounded by a bullet to his stomach now had his head twisted completely around so that it faced his back. Everything happened so fast. Black Mamba didn’t even give the crumbling enemy time to counter-attack.
Emil blew out the air that he had been holding in. He had been so tense that he couldn’t even breathe properly. He felt sorry for the guerrillas being destroyed.
What if Black Mamba had been the enemy? Even thinking it, gave him chills. Stealthy movements, powerful attacks, merciless pity. All these features made him known as “Azrael.” Emil clenched his teeth as he watched the frightening battle. If he was to tell this story to his seniors, he would get rave reviews.
The guerrillas who had shown up on the scope disappeared one by one. Black Mamba disappeared from time to time from the scope, also. Emil, whose vision was phenomenal, only missed their movements when one of the troops would fall.
Black Mamba’s best and worst skill was his ability to instantly transport from one place to another. He is a man not afraid of tree nor rock. He will not be surprised because snow is falling or the wind is blowing. But he could appear out of nowhere without making a sound. The angel of death, Azrael, had come to life.
Bang bang bang— The guerrillas continually pulled the trigger of the Tokarev behind them. With his spatial recognition skills, Black Mamba sensed the disturbances in the energy around him. He felt a chill on his back, and he quickly threw his body. As it flew through the air, a bullet flew past him. It was impeccable timing.
Pahali’s troops had been trained to use inhumane tactics in North Korea. They did not refrain from using strategies that used their comrades as bait.
Black Mamba opened his eyes wide. Even with such a great physique, he couldn’t change direction in the air. The high-stress situation triggered his power. As he broke through this dimension, he could see the flying bullet coming toward him. The air around the traveling bullet rippled.
Adrenaline released. His brain, aware of the danger, was sending signals to his body to survive. Actin and myosin pulled and pushed to raise the kukri.
Time froze. The gunshots were slow, but the movement of the kukri felt just as slow. The muscle contracting from his upper arm to his wrist seemed to take forever.
Clang— The parabellum bullet bounced off the thick blade of the kukri. Sparks flew as if they had lit a match, and the blade shuddered as if it would break. The thick and resilient muscles absorbed the impact of the gun. If it had been a normal person, the sword would have flown out of his hands.
Thud— thud— Black Mamba was able to muster strength from his compromised state. The guerrillas shot at him head-on with the Tokarev while more came at him from the sides. They all fell at his hands.
The double-tap skill is one that requires a sniper to shoot before the impact of the rebound hits him. It was a skill that used two bullets to make sure that the kill is successful.
Black Mamba dispersed the impact of the double-tap. There was no reason to waste an extra bullet on someone who’d already been critically injured.
Emil swallowed hard. Every moment was a matter of life and death.
He could see a wave of guerrillas coming down the hill organized in groups of two. If one were to be attacked, the other would try to counter. Emil hastily put his right thumb on the trigger of the Minimi.
Black Mamba disappeared suddenly from the night-vision goggles. The blade of his kukri flashed in the moonlight. The attacker’s body thudded onto the ground. Afterward, his severed head fell next to the body. A stream of blood shot upwards.
Emil sighed a breath of relief. He couldn’t be sure what had happened. The guerrillas seemed to be flying to their deaths as Black Mamba shoved his kukri blade into their necks. He trembled in fear watching this scene.
Clang— For the first time, the kukri was blocked.
Pahali screamed without realizing it. His right arm bent due to a powerful force, and his sword flew out of his hand. It was mere luck that he was able to block the lightning-fast sword that flew towards him. He had been aiming to stab his sword into the enemy’s neck but had changed its direction to block the incoming attack, just in time.
Agile as a puma, he was also as strong as a buffalo. His bones shook and his body twisted. His nerves became paralyzed. He thought that even if he had been hit with a silverback, it would be weaker than what he felt now.
Reflecting the moonlight, their murderous eyes glared into each other. One had bloodshot red eyes while the other had a cold, relaxed gaze.
Pahali was also a warrior with the ability to turn the tides. He suppressed his pain through mind power and lifted the Tokarev held in his left hand. At that moment, he felt something on his forehead.
Thud— Into his forehead, a large blade penetrated. Pahali wasn’t even aware of the detrimental hit. The blade only weighed 500 grams. Black Mamba’s kukri was 1.2 kilograms. The thick blade split his skull and penetrated his brain.
Pahali could see the dark being holding a bloody sword and gun right before his eyes. It was the first time he could clearly see the man who had killed his brothers.
“Kanmasishib! (He’s like a nightmare!) Azrael!”
After uttering those few words, the light from Pahali’s eyes flitted away.
There was no way for Black Mamba to understand Pahali’s Arabic. Of course, Pahali couldn’t understand Korean as he took his last breath. Pahali had been known as the best warrior of the FROLINAT. But mouse or a rat, it would be eaten by a cat either way. Pahali was not even worthy as an appetizer to Black Mamba.
With the death of the most-skilled soldier, his murderous streak disappeared. In five minutes, the cutthroat hand-to-hand combat ended. Black Mamba leaned on the boulder and gathered his breath. His murderous rage was slowly starting to dissipate. If he had not met his teacher and learned to control his urges, he would have run around like a crazy man high on blood.
They were persistent. Even as they died, they shoved their swords into their enemies, and they used their comrades as bait to counter-attack. They had received real special forces training. They were much different than the pathetic guerrilla troops they had come to expect from the FROLINAT.
Black Mamba looked down blankly at the last man that he defeated. His head was split in half and gray matter was oozing out of it. Looking down at the sad corpse, his comrade made a pathetic speech.
“Receive a lot of Allah’s love. Nami ami tabul.”
Black Mamba grabbed the enemy’s sword after tossing out a worse insult than his comrade. The heavy greenish sword was an NR-2 known as a Spetsnaz. It must have been true that the Soviet army had trained the FROLINAT soldiers.
“All kill. Retreat.”
“That’s amazing. I can’t see any more enemies.”
Emil answered just able to hold in his desire to throw up.
Black Mamba wiped the blood off his dripping kukri on Pahali’s clothes.
“Damn, he’s not very useful.”
He muttered as he gathered his things. The Famas that he had tossed next to the rattlesnake was broken. It was the gun that Emil had destroyed with bullet marks and his shooting angle. It was something he was fond of because he had used it since his time in the Ecole, but he had to give it up.
One Famas was worth 4300 francs. 500,000 won had been lost. As someone extremely stingy, this was a heartbreaking loss.
“You, go drink with your own money.”
The Sciaccarello that he had been meaning to give to Emil was rescinded.
“Black, what are you talking about?”
Emil asked in confusion.
Black Mamba grabbed the AK-47. From the belts of the dead soldiers, he grabbed 30 bullets and 6 magazines and put it with his belongings. The Famas was known to perform better than the AK, but to him, it was practically the same thing.
Thinking that it was all over, a wave of exhaustion came over him. His uniform was wet with blood. The smell of blood made his head throb. It was much more exhausting to participate in hand-to-hand combat versus shooting from a distance. Or was it from extreme tension? His muscles were tired from the constant instant transportation.
“Black, are you wounded?”
Emil exclaimed in surprise.
“No. It’s the blood of the enemy.”
“Whew. That scared me. But the smell is no joke.”
Emil pinched his nose. The mix of blood and sweat coming from Black Mamba smelled so horrible, he was afraid his nose would rot.
“I can’t wait to take a bath. The saying that supply and demand are the most important thing in war is bogus. The most important thing is the ability to take a bath.”
“Tha— that’s true.”
Emil stuttered. He wanted to punch his own mouth for saying that Black Mamba smelled. It was not something he should be saying to a partner who had come back showered in blood.
“Emil, it’s a souvenir.”
“Ooh la, a Spetsnaz sword, it’s incredible.”
Emil was ecstatic upon receiving the sword.
Emil reported the results through the radio.
“Black Mamba division. Agent infiltrated guerrilla. 22 cleared.”
“It’s the captain. As expected, Black Mamba was right. Is Black Mamba alright?”
“It’s an emergency. Join us immediately.”
“Black, Captain looks to be on the verge of sh*tting his pants.”
“A mutt eats 50 points before going back to his home.”
“What does that mean? Is 50 points dog food?”
“Shit, it means that the enemy is pretty good at using their strengths.”
Their customs were different, so it wouldn’t have made sense for their proverbs to be understood.
Black Mamba and Emil ran down the red hill without resting.
“Oh mon Dieu!”
Emil screamed as he arrived at the line of defense.
Both sides were engaged in heavy battle. The sound of guns and screams pounded in his ear. His comrades were losing to the enemy’s firepower. He understood why the captain was sh*tting his pants.
Musta’s army took turns attacking with his attack troops and then his cover troops as he made his way closer to them. Team Ratel could not defend against the guerrilla’s topographic advantage.
The enemy’s first team had been taken by surprise by Black Mamba and lost without much of a fight, but the Habib independence fighters were not your average fighters. They were the best army specializing in counter-attacks.
Habib and Goukouni, as part of the FROLINAT army, were part of the freedom alliance part or FAP. The northern army were freedom fighters. Each base had been training its troops for over two years in the Soviet Union and North Korea. These men, who had been trained there, were as good as fighters of government armies.
The guerrilla’s defensive and offensive teams took turns to create a highly successful attack tactic. Even the greatest snipers could not easily catch the guerrilla forces.
“They’re like flying squirrels.”
Black Mamba exclaimed. The battle had come within a 300-meter range. They only had to approach 50 more meters for them to be within attack range. The guerrilla forces had a numerical advantage that would be detrimental if they had reached them within this range.
“The situation does warrant him sh*tting his pants.”
Black Mamba disassembled the scope. To catch those that moved like flying squirrels, he had to widen his vision. His eyes were like a wild cat’s eyes. With moonlight and spatial awareness at his disposal, he didn’t need the scope.
Bang— From behind the red boulder, a guerrilla peeked out and got his head blasted apart. It was the soldier who was commanding the RPG forces.
Bang— bang— bang— The Dragunov’s unique muted sound started to echo every 0.8 seconds. The charging guerrillas fell like dominoes.