Mercenary Black Mamba

He was in a difficult position. George Island was 60 kilometers away from the nearest Coutances Bay. He couldn't swim across, and there weren't any suitable boats to sail. It was hard trying to get rid of a betrayer.

"My friend has a yacht at Coutances. That friend travels back and forth Gunji island frequently."

"It's not hard to catch a mouse as long as you know the location of the mouse hole. It's a breeze anyway. I need to get rid of Tanshe first. That b*stard's the body."

"It won't be easy."

"Just get me a map and some information and act as my dummy."

"Well, that isn't hard."

Black Mamba made an eerie smile. The battle and calculations were over. All that was left to do were the dishes.

[01:30 a.m.]

A dark shadow dropped out of the seventh floor's VVIP room. It was Black Mamba, with a Yankee hat pressed on his head. The shadow which ran through the empty Rue de Sèvres jumped into an alley.

The taxi driver, who had just dropped a customer off and was pulling out of the same alley, stepped on the emergency brake.

"Putain, puis debout?" the driver lowered his window and began cursing.

"Gare Saint-Lazare!"[1]

100 francs fluttered before the driver's eyes. The taxi driver nodded without a word. Gare Saint-Lazare was just around the corner of Val-de-Grâce hospital.

The direct train to Rouen had already started to speed up. A shadow that flew over the entrance's barricade jumped over two platforms and attached itself to the racing train's entrance. The shadow twisted its body before it was absorbed into the train.

The direct train of Paris-Rouen crossed 172 kilometers in one and a half hours. Black Mamba became one with nature to meditate in the resting room. The conductor passed him twice but didn't notice Black Mamba sitting there.

[03:15 a.m.]

Black Mamba caught a nighttime taxi stationed at Rouen station and headed towards Le Havre. French taxis were infamous for their rough driving. The taxi driver, who'd been paid triple the amount, sped down the empty road. The driver pulled off a feat of 72 kilometers in 35 minutes.

Upon arriving at Lafayette Square, Black Mamba paused to find the direction using his senses. A human's nose had a small amount of iron. Humans lived without realizing that they could sense directions with their noses.

500 meters north-west.

There was a faint smell of gunpowder and a thick, heavy smell of oil.

Woosh—

The night demon rushed through the empty streets.

Five minutes later, a dark shadow appeared on Rue Pompidou, the closest street to the sea. A brick wall of four meters blocked his path. Black Mamba checked the organized barracks' map that Paul drew for him, once more.

The dark shadow flew over the wall like a bird. His target was the officers' camp, located behind the main headquarter's barracks. The shadow which swept past the individuals' homes seeped into the apartment where high-ranking officers resided.

[03:25 a.m.]

Of course, there's nothing like maverick generals. This isn't something I can often do.

He complained inwardly.

He hadn't been able to check Tanshe's room number. There wasn't enough time to check all 15 rooms either. It was bothersome trying not to touch innocent people.

"There's no choice, then."

He stomped towards the guards' office at the entrance. A soldier on duty was sleeping with his head on the desk.

Tap—

Tap—

He knocked on the glass. The soldier didn't move. If anyone was lax, it was him. He pushed the door open and tapped his shoulder.

The soldier on duty shouted in frustration.

"Leave me alone! Ugh!"

An iron grasp clenched around the soldier's neck.

"Colonel Tanshe!"

"Pas de tu?"

Black Mamba slightly twisted the soldier's neck. The blood lust of a beast shook the soldier's senses.

"Colonel Tanshe!"

"Deuxième étage, neuf."

The b*stard, fortunately, had quick wits.

Bang—

Black Mamba gave him a comfortable rest before heading towards room nine on the second floor. He rushed to the roof before hooking his feet over the edge and tearing away at his target's window frame.

His fingers could rip through the wood.

Craack—

The aluminum frame was helplessly pulled away by his strength. There wasn't a latch on the inner wooden frame. The shadow was swallowed into the room.

The room was littered with random things. When he opened the door, he came across a living room connected to the kitchen.

"Ugh!"

Black Mamba swallowed his gasp at the putrid stench. A hot wave of air followed the offending smell and washed over him.

It was offending to the point that the kebab he ate four days ago crawled back up his throat. It was in situations like these that his sensitivity became a problem.

These b*stards are like animals!

Black Mamba clicked his tongue.

The living room was a mess. There were worn clothes mixed with alcohol bottles and s*x machines, thrown all across the floor. Two pairs of men and women were sleeping, entangled in each other. The mess was worse than the living quarters of the bachelors behind the streets of Paris.

Two women and a man were sleeping with their black forests revealed while a b*stard was pointing his rear to the sky. The violent urge to kick the white a** reared its ugly head.

He rummaged around the military uniforms across the room with the tip of his toes. Both were lieutenant colonels. He smacked the women's pressure points and crushed the lower back of the two soldiers' heads.

Crack—

Their cervical spine went out of place. They'd have to suffer for a year, at least. Of course, s*x was out of the question for four years. Black Mamba was surprisingly small-minded.

He opened the door of the opposite room, where the sound of snoring was coming from. The room had a similarly offending smell.

There was a plump, middle-aged man with a Kaiser Beard on the bed with a young woman. That b*stard was also a sight to see. He was snoring with his face shoved between the woman's legs. From the type of clothes on the floor, that girl was also a call girl.

Grr—

Zzzzz—

He smiled mockingly at the non-humorous sight of the call girl's pubic hair flying around from the b*stard's snore.

"Damn b*stard, and I've been starving for four years!"

His annoyance expanded by twofold.

How ignorant humans were!

Those who slept peacefully with their nose between a woman's legs, without knowing death was upon them, were humans. The b*stard had lost his survival instincts due to his assimilation with society.

He flicked the outer pressure point of the woman's ear. There were many scenarios where people were made to faint from hitting a pressured point. However, such methods didn't seem possible without proper knowledge.

He enjoyed using the method of shaking another's brain until they faint. It was a stronger version of a blackout. The best parts of the body to shake the brain without killing was the tip of the chin and the temporomandibular joint.

Crack—

The sound of a dry firewood breaking rang. Black Mamba could crumple iron with the flick of his fingers. The woman who had her temporomandibular joint flicked fell limp without a chance to scream. He grabbed the woman's neck and threw her into the living room as though she was a can of beer.

They were the type who gave away their precious bodies, created by their parents, without putting in any effort. There was no reason to respect them just because they were women.

"Tanshe!"

The snoring stopped at the sound of a predator's growl.

"Qui est-tu?"[2]

"La Faucheuse!"

An unnatural and eerie voice rang across the room.

Click—

The bedroom's light was flicked on. Tanshe shook his head from side to side and opened his slitted eyes.

"Qui est-tu?" he asked the same question.

It was the stereotypical action of those who ordered people around with their fingers. It was a question held with certainty that it would be answered by another.

"Stupid b*stard, he still doesn't get it when I said Faucheuse. It must have been some time since he held a scythe, his senses are dull. Maybe it's because he only knows how to scheme and send the hitmen from the back, his senses are all over the place."

"Ah!"

Tanshe's consciousness connected with reality the moment he heard the words scheme and hitmen. Tanshe, who'd raised his body in fright, launched himself towards the clothes hanger where he had hung his gun holder. Still, he was about as fast as a maggot.

Black Mamba's foot crossed the air in a woosh. It was a 100 won attack, which made his leg bend like a whip.

Bang—

Splat—

The fat body, which had been kicked on the side, flew across the room and landed on the opposite wall.

"Uhhhh!"

Tanshe was panting and couldn't breathe properly. Five of his ribs had shattered with a single kick. It would take a superhuman to withstand that pain.

"A b*stard on an elite ready-to-dispatch squad holds a s*x party with a group of call girls, flinging his gun aside? How ridiculous or should I say, how benignant a French soldier is on the matter of s*x."

"Bl-Ack-Mam-Ba! How?" he gasped.

His broken ribs had punctured his lung. It was hard to pronounce words with a collapsed lung. Tanshe didn't have the mind to answer Black Mamba's taunt. Black Mamba was standing right before him, but he couldn't believe his eyes.

"You should've known that you could die while trying to kill others. You dare send hitmen after Black Mamba? Did your galls blow up, or did logic fail you?"

"Black Mamba, are you planning to go against 4,800 soldiers from the air brigade or are you planning to wage war against France?"

The pain had thrown his hangover and sleep to the wind. Pain and embarrassment had run through his head the moment his consciousness returned.

"You idiot, are those threats? You and Miguel planned the hitmen who were sent to Paya, right? I'm not Black Mamba if I leave the men behind the attacks alive."

"If you're going to kill me, kill me now. You'll be chased for treason in this country," Tanshe growled on the floor.

Black Mamba was a b*stard known for pulling the heads out of bodies and tearing the hearts out of chests. He didn't want to beg for his life from a butcher. He couldn't think straight due to the undeniable strength that had gone into the attack.

"Ha, this b*stard, you make threats so politely. You f*****, think of yourself. Sergeant Burimer is waiting for you underneath that desert."

Schink—

Black Mamba pulled out his Kukri. The blade gracefully glinted in blue underneath the light. The more blood it drank, the sharper the Kukri became.

"Black Mamba, save me. I'm sorry. I did this for my country..."

Tanshe began to shake. His courage was weak. It broke the moment a real, direct threat appeared before him. It had shattered the moment he understood Black Mamba's determination to kill, leaving him with no chances.

"You dirty b*stard, sergeant Mouris didn't let go of the claymore switch even in the moment of his death. Is it the position which makes a human so f*****, or is it the f****** human, who rises to the position? It's not my concern anyway, but it's offending."

Schink—

Scink—

The Kukri glinted in a cross. Black Mamba wasn't a weakling who only knew how to raise his voice. He also wasn't a slow, murky person who hesitated on taking action.

"Aaaaagh!"

A desperate cry seeped out. His stomach had been sliced into a cross. Tanshe's organs rolled out.

Bang—

A foot kicked his neck. His esophagus and airway were shattered instantly. He made large, breathy noises as air struggled to enter his airway.

"You f****** bastard, Legion Etranger is also a part of the airborne brigade. How dare you send your comrades to death, then tie their hands and feet! To add on, you sent two hitmen to take the merit for yourself? That is how sergeant Burimer died, by the tear in his stomach. He died trying to save his subordinate! Chartres suffered a bitter death because you blocked the arrival of the rescue helicopter. You'd have become a colonel by taking all the merit, wouldn't you? The power and money to bring call girls into your room must have been more important than the 100s of innocent lives. Yes, you should die in suffering. Kneel and beg before Chartres and Burimer once you cross the river Styx. If they ask who sent you, tell them Black Mamba did."

Black Mamba's gaze towards Tanshe's darkening eyes was cold. He was a stereotypical mountebank. There was no need to analyze the backstabber's actions. Simply going after his past would bring a truckful of dirty merits.

"You dirty b*stard, you better live with morals in your next life."

[03:35 a.m.]

The black shadow which escaped the 11th Airborne Brigade's headquarters disappeared without a trace. On the second floor of room nine laid the knocked out men and women and Tanshe, who was struggling to push his organs back into place.

He wanted to ask his friends and the women for help, but he couldn't move or make a sound. Tanshe slowly died in pain. There was no mistake in Azrael's actions.

[06:48 a.m.]

Black Mamba, who arrived in Val-de-Grâce hospital, shot into the air like a demon. He jumped off the narrow ridge once before slipping into the window.

"Paul!"

A light grey hair poked out of Black Mamba's bed.

"Did you already get it done?"

Black Mamba nodded without a word. Paul checked his watch before shaking his head side to side.

"Amazing, how did you move to get it done in six hours?"

"Something that shouldn't be done again."

Black Mamba shook his head. Traveling on several public transportations had wasted his strength.

"No one would believe that you did it, but anyone would have believed that your skills made it possible."

"There's no evidence, and no one can make it a problem. A high-ranking officer was throwing a s*x party in his private quarters with call girls when he was supposed to wait on ready-to-mobilize orders. The newspapers and broadcasts would swarm like bees."

"The commander of the airborne brigade holding a s*x party in official quarters? Amazing. It seems like France is rotting inside, too." Paul sighed.

"I'm going to let Geofrey be for now. Tanshe and Miguel were the main actors, while the b*stard was a side actor. The two had pushed forward with the backdoor and double contract plans, while Geofrey received Tanshe and Bonipas' orders to leak information."

"Are you planning to let him live?"

"Of course not, I'm Black Mamba. When Tanshe and Miguel's devastating ends are revealed, he'll be shivering in fear and agitation. I'll consider letting him live if he goes mad."

"Horrible!"

Paul shivered. He was talking about drying a human to death, as expected of the Kanma.

"Tanshe was the reason why Burimer died. That b*stard's the one who locked Philip in for trying to send an emergency helicopter. I've split his stomach like how Burimer had suffered. I'm very interested as to how the old men will react."

"Ha, today, no, tomorrow, it'll be chaos."

"Hehe, the Oecophylla smaragdina would have no choice but to head to the Sahel."

Black Mamba had been assured before Bonipas that he'd have no choice but to go to the Sahel.

Paul tried to get rid of his goosebumps.

"I'd rather jump off Corse cliff than be your enemy. Major general Philip must be shivering in his boots too."

Clack—

The door to the hospital room opened.

Edel wordlessly handed him a heated mug of coffee.

"Edel, why are you here at this hour?"

Black Mamba looked at Edel surprisingly. With slightly swollen eyelids and roughened face, it was obvious that she'd stayed the night.

"Take a good rest. The sun's rising today, too."

Edel wrapped Black Mamba's hands around the hot coffee before leaving.

"What is this?"

[1] "Saint-Lazare station!"

[2] "Who are you?"