Novel Name : Mercenary Black Mamba

Mercenary Black Mamba - Chapter 375

Prev Chapter Next Chapter

There was no way Black Mamba’s intentions went unnoticed by Philip. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling widely. He heard that Korean soldiers treated their previous military seniors as their seniors forever. His heart was moved by that guy’s loyalty to his old boss.

“Black Mamba, no, Ddu-bai-buru-pa, the hostages are key scientists to our nuclear power businesses. You’re our only hope. Please return them to their family’s embrace,” Philip, the requester, asked in a very polite manner.

With a word, Black Mamba chased out that annoying b*stard, Peron, and knocked Germaine off his pedestal. Black Mamba soared high into the sky, away from the boundaries called Legion Etranger. Philip finally realized what Black Mamba’s newfound position meant.

Although he was disappointed that the duck that laid golden eggs left his hands, he would get eaten up if he treated the predator like a cat. Philip’s good political judgment influenced his decision to bow down.

“It is an unfortunate matter. Some rude government employee registered my name as Sbard Gulbeig on my ID. Sbard for Svart, the realm of darkness in Norse mythology, and Gulbeig for Gullveig, a lowly woman who chases after gold in Norse mythology. I tried to correct him for his lack of manners, but he left first for the realm of darkness. I left it untouched and kept this humiliating name to remind myself.”

Scary b*stard, he’s talking about manager Miguel whom he burned to death!

Philip grew nervous instead when the scary story began. One must always be careful around unpredictable humans. Unpredictable humans with extraordinary abilities were basically a walking bomb. For a moment, he forgot how scary of a person Black Mamba was.

Black Mamba shoved both of his hands forward and shook them before Germaine and Philip. Both Germaine and Philip flinched back.

“Look, how many people died by these hands! I don’t even remember. I spilled too much blood. Both of you have experienced the battlefield, so you should be well aware of the mental damage endured. Besides the soldiers who killed one or two on the battlefield, soldiers who witnessed the tragic sight of the corpses also suffer from PTSD. After killing 1,000s of people, what do you think happened to me—the Angel of Death and Black Mamba—and my soul? I’m an ordinary young adult. I hate the smell of blood, and I’ve grown tired of the weight of blood. I don’t want to see any more blood.”

Black Mamba looked at each of the old men with a grim expression. Now that he said it out loud, it was depressing. His words carried interference waves. Germaine and Philip’s faces suddenly grew stiff. The story was flowing in a strange direction. They felt as though they owed a lot to Black Mamba. They felt pressured to reward him appropriately. His sincere and appealing voice continued.

“I am Korean and an honorary citizen of France at the same time. I can’t overlook my country’s crises because I hate blood. I also made a promise to Major General Philip. Still, the timing’s off. Tsk!”

Black Mamba smacked his lips. Philip looked over at Germaine as if to say, “see what I mean.”

“Thank you. France’s pride and future lie in your hands,” Germaine said excitedly.

Although there were hints of complaints, Black Mamba agreed to the operation. His liver shrunk because of Peron’s actions. Black Mamba was someone who created miracles. With another miracle, there was a higher chance of him keeping his spinning chair.

“Black Mamba, I’m sorry for calling you out in the middle of a school semester. We have registered you as an exchange researcher in the Department of Biology, University of Paris II. Even if you don’t get graded in Korea, you don’t have to worry about the paid semesters either,” Bonipas said, scratching his itchy spot.

“That’s good news,” Black Mamba said, delighted.

He didn’t know what to expect during the operation. He never imagined that he would get dragged down to the Jurassic World in Kaparja.

Philip and Germaine exchanged glances. Germaine nodded his head.

“Just mention whatever equipment and supplies that you need. Although Bonipas will prepare the refined weapons, there are more than enough mercenary weapons in the Deuxieme Rep. The first operational fee will be 100,000 francs. You will receive the same amount for the second and third operational stages.” Pressured by Black Mamba, Germaine and Philip offered a non-existent fee.

Operational fees were funds required during the operation. Black Mamba received tremendous support from the military and the DGSE. He didn’t need operational fees. 100,000 francs was basically pocket money that didn’t require a receipt. He wouldn’t be human if he denied 300,000 francs of pocket money.

Ugh, this narrow-minded man! Black Mamba snorted inwardly.

Philip’s scale was much smaller than Bonipas’s. Black Mamba was overconfident after receiving 300,000,000 francs from the Ruman plan. 100,000 francs was some child’s money. Black Mamba glanced at Bonipas, then turned to look at Philip. He was planning something and had to change the topic.

“France is a country of noblesse oblige. I am an honorary citizen of France. I became a mercenary to earn money, but I don’t wish to earn money off people’s lives. I want the Ministry of Defense to calculate my pay instead.”

The silence lasted for a while. A round of applause broke out.


“Oh, as expected of you, Black Mamba! You’re truly the representation of noblesse oblige.”

“You are the true national treasure.”

“The pride of Legion Etranger.”

Philip and Germaine, as well as Dimanche, cheered.

“Special Military Advisor, although money is rolling around blindly in the DGSE, the military doesn’t have such funds. The council is keeping a sharp eye on us, after all. Say the word. If it’s something the military can help with, we will,” Germaine, who was willing to do anything, offered.

Black Mamba, who had been waiting for that moment, finally listed down his requirements.

“If that’s true, I want you to convince the CEA[1] to transfer some nuclear technology to Korea.”

“Nuclear bomb?” Germaine jumped in surprise.

Nuclear technology was basically confidential information within a country and not a subject that was easily brought up.

“Ahh, I’m not talking about a nuclear bomb. I’m talking about a nuclear power plant. France has been humiliated by the U.S. and the United Kingdom ever since the Manhattan plan failed. The U.S., the United Kingdom, and Canada suffered from the “Uranium Supply Treaty.” France is great. How long will France let the U.S. and the United Kingdom call them second rank? Korea has just started commercial nuclear power generation with technology brought in from Canada. As you know, Korea is an emerging industrial country aggressively pursuing Japan’s economy. Unlike Africa, Asia is demanding more and more as time passes. Building relations with Korea and entering the Asian market can expand France’s sphere of influence. All while hitting the back of the U.S. and the United Kingdom’s heads.”

Black Mamba poked at Germaine’s pride slightly. High-ranking French officials were unnecessarily prideful. They grew even more sensitive at the mention of the U.S. and the United Kingdom in particular.

“Fine. I will persuade the president after negotiations with the CEA, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and the Ministry of Higher Education, Research, and Innovation. Advisor, if you manage to rescue those hostages, I’m sure Areva will actively cooperate,” Germaine readily agreed.

Germaine was completely taken by Black Mamba’s show.


Bonipas glanced at Germaine. Like a sailor charmed by a Siren, his face loosened up at Black Mamba’s words. That was why military officials were naive and simple. Freelance mercenaries loved money, and their driving force to move was money. Black Mamba, too, loved money.

The fund assigned to Black Mamba by the Ministry of Defense would be around 500,000 francs. Including his operational fees, it would be over 800,000 francs. Black Mamba gave them a blank check because he wanted to protest that the fee was too little. Once Germaine and Philip came to their senses, they would be under a great deal of stress over their fund management.

The bigger problem was the big package called nuclear technology transfer. Black Mamba hid his motives by mentioning a nuclear power plant, but a nuclear power plant operation was basically the gateway to building a nuclear bomb. Black Mamba was someone who hated and loved his home country at the same time.

Hehe, what an amazing person!

Bonipas smiled. That was why he respected Black Mamba. He didn’t hate Black Mamba, who got him what he wanted. Bonipas would have been disappointed if he didn’t turn to look back at his home country, at least once.

Black Mamba’s greed wasn’t personal greed. It was the frequently mentioned “income distribution.” He was someone who poured out a lot of money into a desert to provide refuge to the oppressed and starving lower class. That never happened before in the history of humankind. Black Mamba needed to make a lot of money.

Black Mamba was someone strong against the strong and endlessly weak against the weak. His trademark was the unbending belief that he was doing the right thing. It wasn’t terrible to have a Don Quixote in a world filled with egoists and people obsessed with the pursuit of wealth. He was just about to mention his gifts too. Bonipas started handing out his gifts.

“Your check will be issued by the Ministry of Defense, but the DGSE has also prepared a reward for your hard work. This operation should originally be handled by the DGSE. It’s just that the first button wasn’t buttoned up properly.”

Bonipas stopped talking and glanced at Germaine. Germaine avoided Bonipas’ gaze.

“I made an unofficial deal with the chairman of Areva, Javere. Chairman Javere has offered a total of 30,000,000 francs for the hostage rescue. He decided to pay 8,000,000 francs in advance for the rescue team that I guaranteed on two fronts and 1,000,000 francs for each hostage rescued. If you rescue all 22 hostages, you’ll receive an additional 22,000,000 francs. I have already transferred the commission of 8,000,000 francs to your account, advisor. The balance will be deposited as soon as the hostages are rescued.”

“30… 30,000,000 francs!” Germaine and Philip’s jaws dropped open.

It was the kind of money that they had never imagined, heard, or seen before. Their initial offer of 500,000 francs suddenly looked pathetic. Utterly dumbfounded, the two men stared at each other. Both of their faces creased devilishly.

“Huh, he’s making a deal that is as honorable as he must be. Tell him I will do my best regardless of the money.” Black Mamba smiled.

Precious raccoon Bonipas was really of a different breed than Philip. It was nothing more than overpaid labor. Money entered like rolling pumpkins. It was to the point that he wanted to pray for more guerrillas and terrorists to torment France.

Should I call the Sun Woo Bang Na mother and daughter to perform a ritual so that France continues to suffer?

Laughter escaped out of him at the wicked thought.

Germaine and Philip absent-mindedly stared into the ceiling after becoming dishonorable men all of a sudden. Germaine, who used to be called the tiger of Indochina, and Philip, who used to be called the lion of Chad, were nothing else but a bite’s worth to Bonipas, the serpent.

While an animal grew lazy from being full, humans were those who gained motivation from being full. Black Mamba, who was full, started rushing.

“Bonipas, call the person in charge of papers. I’ve already wasted a day out of the 10 days of the stipulated countdown. There’s not enough time.”

“Wait, what about your team members?” Philip asked.

“I don’t need anyone. I’m heading in with my personal guard.”

Philip turned to look at Bonipas at the direct refusal.

“What do you think?”

“What’s the point of thinking? Ddu-bai-buru-pa is a special consultant. He has full authority over this operation. All we need to do is support,” Bonipas stated facts as though he was stating how all chickens had two legs.

“Well, it’s not like Ddu-bai-buru-pa is the RAPAS or GIGN.” Philip nodded in agreement.

A RAPAS or GIGN member would have taken a swing with their fist at that kind of tone. The grudge between Legion Etranger and France’s main special forces was deep-rooted. They chewed each other out every chance they had.

“Major General Philip, the RAPAS and GIGN suffered great losses,” Germaine pointed out.

“I have no intention of insulting the RAPAS or GIGN, sir. I’m just saying that Ddu-bai-buru-pa does not require team members.”

When the conversation took a turn for the third time, Dimanche wrapped up the meeting.

“Even now, the hostages must be trembling in fear. If those b*stards send us one more wrist, our internal structure will collapse, and France will become a laughing stock to the world. The operation will be handed over to the Special Military Advisor, and we, Oecophylla smaragdinas, should retire. Old men like us shouldn’t hold others back when we aren’t even going to commit suicide missions. Special Military Advisor, I’m counting on you.”

Dimanche, who spoke words of substance, stood up.

Samedi, who was left waiting outside the conference room, couldn’t hold back his boredom. He started singing a chanson[2] he learned from Emil.

“Samedi, you come in too,” Black Mamba called out to Samedi, but he didn’t hear him.

[There are no lions in the forest. Only the eyes of the leopards on the trees flash. A green veil covers the sky, and the crowned eagle silently catches the monkey. The clear lake is full of horrible parasites, and when you eat a nice-looking fruit, your eyes roll back, and you blow out bubbles. If you go into the river to catch fish, you’ll get eaten up by the fish. Africa is not romantic. Ituri is the real deal. Ne jitter pas, je vous écoute.[3] ♬ Elle ne pas mon type.[4] ♬]

“Ho, dude, you’ve got some talent.” Mu Ssang was genuinely surprised.

That was the rhythm of Michelle Polanreff’s song, Qui a Tué Grand’ Maman[5], which Emil liked to sing.

Not only did Samedi memorize the lyrics just by listening to Emil sing in the equipment shelter, but both rhythm and beat were accurate. He could even sense a faint sadness when the large man sang the chorus, “mon type, mon type.”

“Wakil, I like this song.” Samedi stopped singing and smiled shyly.

“I think it will sound better if the rhythm’s slightly faster.”

“Wakil is always right.”

“Samedi, I think we need to beat up some bad guys.”

“I like songs, but I like fistfights even more.”

[1] The French Alternative Energies and Atomic Energy Commission or CEA is a French public government-funded organization that researches energy, defense and security, information technologies, and health technologies.

[2] A French song.

[3] Do not hesitate to tell me.

[4] She is not my type.

[5] Who killed Grandma?
Prev Chapter Next Chapter