Mercenary Black Mamba

Chapter 141: Chapter 18, Episode 2: The Returning Battle

“Jang, let’s replenish our proteins for once. I’m going to catch an ostrich, so get ready.”

“Sure!”

“Try to get ready without fighting.”

Black Mamba disappeared with his Pamus.

The two people who’d turned into immature siblings froze momentarily.

“Hmph, how could there be an ostrich in this kind of place?”

Jang Shin replied to Sun WooHyun, “Let’s make a bet. I want to bet on your knife that Black will bring back an ostrich.”

Jang Shin looked at Sun WooHyun’s Spetsnaz long-knife. The large, thick exterior made it suitable for cutting meat and grinding spices.

“Dotti, I bet on Jjang’s Beretta that he’ll fail.”

Simply shooting well didn’t mean one was a good hunter!

Sun WooHyun laughed mockingly at Jang Shin. He had gained a realization when he prepared and served a bear’s bile to commander Kim Il-Sung. He’d rushed into it with too much confidence. There were many bears in the Nanglim mountain ranges. He’d thought he’d gain several bear biles in one or two days. Only after he had wandered around the mountain for a week did he realize that even if one had a gun and that there was something to be hunted, hunting wouldn’t necessarily happen.

He’d have to see, to catch, didn’t he? However, an animal’s scent and hearing was several times more sensitive than a human’s. An ostrich could even sprint. How could Black Mamba catch something that ran 80 kilometers per second? On top of that, it was nighttime. There was no way a large ostrich would be in the middle of a wasteland with no trees. Sun WooHyun glared at Jang Shin’s Beretta with confidence.

Jang Shin raised a large pot and began to brew. Onions, garlic, flour, butter, salt, and spices were stocked sufficiently.

“Hey, Jjang, are you preparing for a feast? Thinking of shoving rocks into that pot?” Sun WooHyun laughed mockingly at him and shortly after, Jang Shin was laughing too.

Black Mamba didn’t say empty words. When he said he’d catch an ostrich, it meant that he’d already seen traces of one. No animal could avoid his sensitive detection senses.

That Spetsnaz blade was already his. He may have lost the fight, but he wanted some reaps. He didn’t have an iota of intention to walk away without gains, like any other Chinese.

Jang Shin was planning to make a fricassee[1]. It was for the patients. They had spices and sauces, with a cap course. A warm stew would relax their insides since an ostrich’s meat went well with wine.

He began to fry the onions, garlic, and potatoes in a small pan. Every time he rounded the pan with wine, the pan got steamy and sizzled.

Sun WooHyun laughed at private Jjang’s mindless absorption with cooking.

“I heard rookies are full of pride, so I guess all that deal is to maintain his pride.”

Sun WooHyun’s delight didn’t last long.

“It’s Black Mamba!” sergeant Maxim shouted amid his patrol.

It was hard to differentiate human figures with a night goggle. Then again, they were in a wasteland where no human presence was detected within 50 lis. The only human who could pop up was Black Mamba.

“Hehe, he’s given up.”

It hadn’t been 30 minutes. Sun WooHyun immediately shoved the night goggles onto his eyes and saw something large draped around his shoulder.

“What the hell?”

Surprised, Sun WooHyun zoomed in.

The large object across Black Mamba’s shoulder was an animal with two legs. It was an ostrich.

“How the hell can this happen!”

Sun WooHyun’s face crumpled.

Sssssh—

Black Mamba arrived at the camp as though he’d been carried by the wind.

He tossed the ostrich to Jang Shin as though he was tossing a chicken and disappeared.

Jang Shin reached out with his hand, speechless.

“S***, this is cheating.”

“It’s not cheating. It only means that you don’t know Black Mamba very well yet.”

“Nimi jotto! Haaaa.”

Sun WooHyun sighed like an old man who’d reached the end of his life.

Jjang was right. He tended to rush into things without knowing Black Mamba’s intentions. Despite his display of talents, he tended to look down on Black Mamba just because of his youth. Jjang did deserve his knife. He had no choice but to hand over the knife.

“How did you catch it!” Sun WooHyun attached himself to Black Mamba.

How did he catch an ostrich in the middle of the night, in such a short time?

“I smelled an ostrich.”

“F***, just don’t tell me if you don’t want to,” Sun WooHyun complained before giving up on the conversation.

Black Mamba had told the truth, but he obviously took it as a joke. He still hadn’t gained enough trust to become Black Mamba’s servant.

Brown stew was made with beef and lamb, while white stew with winged animals. An ostrich was a two-legged bird. Jang Shin was able to make an amazing fricassee despite the lack of ingredients. The thick scent of white stew drove everyone mad.

“Jjang, you’re pretty good.”

Thanks to the food, Sun WooHyun managed to forgive Jjang. It looked similar to the food he hadn’t eaten in a long time.

“Gaoli bangzi, don’t call me Jjang.”

“Hehe!”

Sun WooHyun laughed at Jang Shin’s refute. Curses weren’t curses when there was a mutual understanding between two people.

“Jang Shin’s more considerate than Black Mamba.” The Captain raised his thumb.

“Of course. Black gives you a beating while Jang gives you delicious food,” Emil replied sourly.

“Hahaha, I’d rather be frozen to death. I don’t want to be beaten to death, you see?” Valboir agreed.

“Hear, hear.”

“Obviously!”

Everyone agreed aggressively. It looked like Emil was about to conduct a rally at any moment.

“Emil, doesn’t your body feel light?”

Emil flinched at Black Mamba’s words.

“The diarrhea you’ve been suffering from for days, has stopped, hasn’t it?”

At the second question, Jang Shin turned his head and began to look elsewhere. He was nervous to hear what the b*stard would say.

“Your body will turn even better if you’re whipped some more.”

“Ugh, no!”

Emil distanced away from Black Mamba as though he’d been burned.

“It’s really good, hard to explain, but good.”

“Never. You can do anything ‘good’ to yourself.”

He was certain.

Black Mamba was conflicted. Jang Shin would be a greater threat if he trained in the five combined movements after some whipping. However, he didn’t seem to understand his honesty.

“You’ll regret it later.”

“No. If I regret it, I’m the son of a b*stard.”

“That part gets stronger, too.”

“Rea…Really? Then, aaah!”

Emil, who was about to agree, snapped his mouth close and shivered. That guy was the devil. He was the devil who lured people in with sweet words and shoved them in hell. No, he was the Kanma. Emil was determined to never be lured by the Kanma’s whispering.

“No. I won’t do it, even if that part turns into a metal rod.”

“Idiots, I tried feeding you!” Black Mamba shouted as he moved away.

He was going to use them after some reformation, but he gave up.

Jang Shin’s hot stew gave the tired mercenaries’ minds some peace. When meat and alcohol ran through their bodies, their sour mood grew livelier once more.

“Ha, the atmosphere’s great.”

Pieff appeared with a limp. Surprised, the team members rushed to their feet.

“Commander, if you walk…”

Pieff waved Bellman’s protest away.

“No, I can walk. I’ve been a burden to you all. I want to apologize for my foolishness towards you and Black Mamba, from the bottom of my heart.” Pieff lowered his head.

“Why’s that old man still here and not in the parliament?” Emil whispered into Jang Shin’s ears.

“He probably isn’t nominated yet,” Jang Shin replied in the same manner.

It meant that everyone had lost trust in Pieff.

“Black Mamba, thank you for saving me.”

“We’re comrades. There’s a Korean saying which says, one must be ready to take off their clothes if they want to help somebody else.”

“It’s a good saying. I’ll return the favor.”

“It’s nothing much, but since you mentioned that, here’s something. I want you to treat everyone here to a haute cuisine at Maison Troisgros[2]. Okay?”

“Ugh, you’re going too far. That’s worth three months of my salary.”

Pieff’s expression grew sorrowful in exaggeration.

“Hm, I never realized a Deuxieme Rep’s commander’s life was so cheap.”

Pieff raised his hands.

“Ok…Okay. The Sahel has gathered all kinds of poison in Black Mamba’s mouth.”

Pieff’s presence made the team’s atmosphere even brighter.

Crack—

Black Mamba’s ears twitched. He heard something out of place amongst his comrades’ cheers.

Crash—

He captured the sound of something hard falling on the ground.

“Stupid b*stard, why’s he being a burden until the very end?”

He sighed in regretful silence but didn’t say anything. The dead remained dead. He didn’t want to break the cheerful atmosphere.

“If it’s this soft, sergeant Mike would be able to eat it.”

Bellman poured some soup into a canteen and entered the tent. Black Mamba’s unfortunate gaze followed him.

Bellman returned immediately.

“Captain, sergeant Mike has committed suicide.”

“What! Mike?”

The Captain dropped the soup plate he was holding. His head spun as though he’d been drowned in cold water. The mercenaries threw down their food and rushed towards the tent.

Mike had shot his temple with a silenced Beretta. Red blood and white brain fluids leaked from the hole in his head.

“Mhh, he took the bite as soon as I left.”

Pieff’s face crumpled into a frown. He had detected some unnatural movements from the guy, but he hadn’t thought of suicide.

The mercenaries shared a lost expression. Mike had been a troublemaker, but he had also been on the brink of reforming his personality as he crossed the line between life and death, several times. There was a saying that people acted differently right before their deaths, and he really had died.

Black Mamba looked down at the corpse with an unfeeling gaze.

He didn’t have much of a connection with Mike. Instead, he’d beaten him up due to several provocations, so their acquaintance had been more like enemies. Black Mamba hated racist people and was prejudiced against others. He had once considered ending Mike off at Calvi’s lucerne cliff. However, seeing him die so meaninglessly pained his heart.

Mike had been a part of the Texas state’s state defense forces.

He had too great a pride for Pax Americana that he became a racist. He spoke of the USA’s greatness like a habit and treated other countrymen as though they were lesser, causing everyone to dislike him.

France was one of the countries who hated the USA’s hegemony to the utmost. Black Mamba didn’t have much emotional hate towards the USA despite being part of France’s military. The government always seemed to curse the USA out for its selfish gains, but he hadn’t agreed.

A country had no choice but to be selfish, just like an individual. There wasn’t any person in power who wasn’t selfish. A powerful person who didn’t put a country’s gains at the forefront of their mind shouldn’t be a politician, but the head of a religion.

As a person, Mike was simply immature, not bad. He was exemplary during their mission and performed his duty. He treasured his life very much. Black Mamba didn’t know why he suddenly committed suicide.

“What’s the cause?”

“I think it was PTSD from the battle. He’d been tormented by the thought of being a burden to his comrades.”

“This f****** idiot!” the Captain shouted in anger.

The man seemed to be changing, but no. Mike had led Black Mamba into danger by unexpected actions and had also decided to choose a meaningless death.

There was a time and place for death. Mark, Mouris, Miguel, Chartres, and Burimer had all died as warriors, amid a brave battle. Their deaths were etched in everyone’s heart.

Committing suicide amid struggle caused the comrades depression and lowered the team’s morale. Mike had become a huge burden to his comrades by choosing a meaningless death.

“Hu!” he sighed.

Six out of 10 members had passed. Black Mamba and himself were the only surviving snipers. Emil was Black Mamba’s supporter, while Jang Shin was his firepower reinforcer. Bellman was a field doctor, not a combat member.

They were now in a situation where there wasn’t any choice but to pair off with the rescue team. It was a relief that the strange Korean called Ssun that Black Mamba had dragged over was competent.

Black Mamba banged his Minimi barrel with his Kukri as he sang a prayer. Mike was buried on a low hill by Koro Taro’s southern waterway, Kouba kanga, amid slow prayer.

[1] A dish of stewed or fried pieces of meat served in a thick white sauce.

[2] The highest-ranking Michelin star restaurant.