Mercenary Black Mamba

[August 21st, day seven of the Ruman plan]

At 02:00, Black Mamba's eyes flashed open. A professional sniper could control their internal clock because of their thorough training. The body's internal clock referred to the variation of one's circadian rhythm, which was synchronized to the one-millimeter diameter suprachiasmatic nucleus. The nucleus was located just above the hypothalamus, where the optic nerves connecting the retinas of both eyes intersected.

The suprachiasmatic nucleus would detect sunlight entering the eye in the morning and send a signal to the pineal gland. Upon receiving the signal, the pineal gland would secret melatonin, also known as the sleep hormone. Melatonin was a hormone that helped promote sleep for up to about 14 hours. For our kind, the most natural sleep cycle was 14 hours after sunrise.

Legion Etranger snipers were trained to wake up at a certain timing after maintaining their sleeping schedules for six months. It was a training that conditioned one's body by weakening the suprachiasmatic nucleus' function.

Woosh—

Branches and fallen leaves were scattered. Creatures ran and hid. A mole cricket covered in soil jumped out from the hole.

Keee—

A raccoon, which had been wandering around Black Mamba's hiding place, fled in fear.

Voom—

The ground shook once. Soil and foreign substances were scattered around.

Splat splat—

Black Mamba spat out the dirt in his mouth. He wouldn't recommend hiding underground. It was filled with earthworms, mole crickets, and moles, while bugs such as earwigs and larvae bit on one's skin. Unknown insects would enter through the ear and nose holes. No one could stand it unless they're a trained sniper.

He completed some basic stretching exercises before going over his weapons. It was time for another fireworks display. He'd already looked into the missile camp guards' next rotational shift. If they switched at 02:10, the next one was at 05:00. He had three hours to spare.

Wooooo—

The night lingered while a wolf's long howl echoed in the background. The slender crescent moon played hide-and-seek among the floating clouds, while countless stars filled the sky. It was a night where night vision was not required. It was the night of the Angel of Death's descent.

He looked at the missile site under the cliff. A hypnosis cloak enveloped the valley. The camp's outer searchlights moved with the flowing fog, like the islands of an archipelago.

The guard watchtowers stood jarringly along the fence as if it protested against anyone who overlooked its existence. He never imagined that the camp would be so huge. He felt as though he could buy all the sweet rice candy in Korea if he sold all the barbed-wire fences around the camp.

Why didn't they station guards around the cliffs?

The question suddenly struck him. His location was over one kilometer away from the missile site, but not close enough to view the enemy's camp. The answer was obvious. A watchdog guarded the front yard or garden, not the living room.

Kaparja Valley was inaccessible to humans but not to Black Mamba. The ANO blocked all areas with a high possibility of invasion, while bomas and listening devices were stationed all around the rocky mountain's access points. Black Mamba didn't notice that he had intruded unintentionally.

Several soldiers were lined up across the guards' camp. They were preparing for the next rotational shift. A person on top of a platform was giving a passionate speech while waving around his rifle.

"…dear servants of Allah, God's kingdom is almost within reach. When Muhammad delivered God's message, gone was the Jahiliyyah[1] and entered the Islamic Age. The heathens' and renegades' barbaric riots are threatening the true Islamic community. They've started riots, accusing our great leader Assad of being a hypocrite. The Islamic renaissance, as mentioned by the Muslim Brotherhood, meant the rise of the takfirs. The Islam they talked about was the takfirs. They will take your lives, rob your wealth, and rape your sisters. We are the warriors of Sir Assad, the protector of our state. We must lead the forefront with resolute determination to crush all kafirs[2]. The kafirs have invaded the holy land of Aloadin. Allah is with us. Let us protect our families. Let's kill the traitors of Islam. Let's nail them to the cross and burn them all…"

"Ooooo, Assad, Assad!"

"Latif, Allah-hu Akbar!"

At the commander's speech, the soldiers raised their rifles to the sky and cheered passionately. If Black Mamba had understood the meaning behind the speech, he would have recalled the Arabic saying, "If you ask directions from a crow, it will lead you to a corpse."

A crow that fed on corpses would naturally find its way to one. A human trapped in the mentality of division would consider their actions righteous. Humans listened to what they chose to hear and learned whatever they wanted to know. Islam's misfortune stemmed from the mentality of division.

Black Mamba didn't understand the man's speech even after hearing it completely. He only understood a few words. They were Assad, the Muslim Brotherhood, takfirs, and kafirs. Those words were associated with hate and discord. Why did humans hate and discriminate against one another? Why didn't they love one another despite loving dogs and cats?

Perhaps it was an idealistic question. Even animals fought amongst its kind. However, the fight would end immediately when one side surrendered. They didn't pull out a sword to fight back.

Only humans dreamed of revenge. Humans laid low until an opportunity to attack arose. Humans lowered their heads as a sign of defeat but waited for an opportunity to attack back. Why?

Whatever lived, fought. The basics of discord were appetite and libido. Humans added in another factor. It was greed. Animals didn't fight once there was enough food. Humans didn't know the limit of satisfaction. The fact that Catholicism's central philosophy centered around poverty and Buddhism's central philosophy centered around nonpossession proved the influence of human greed.

The ends of Black Mamba's mouth curled up. The outcome of pitting the Syrian Army against the Muslim Brotherhood was better than he had expected. They still believed that the invaders were the Muslim Brotherhood. That was good. The Ruman plan was extremely confidential. If his identity was revealed, the relationship between Assad and France would become strained, and his actions would be futile.

He suddenly became disgusted by the spitting commander on stage. That Oecophylla smaragdina b*stard, he thought, before lowering the Dragunov he had pulled out. The man wouldn't be able to survive if the camp was blown up. There was no need to alert the snake by mowing the grass.

Black Mamba slid down the cliff and hid amongst the bushes. He was 300 meters away from the barbed-wire fences, which were located outside of the camp. Three layers of circular-barbed-wire fences and rhombus-barbed-wire fences surrounded the camp. High voltage current was obviously flowing through it. The barbed-wire fences were seven meters wide and five meters tall.

Guard watchtowers were located every 200 meters along the outer defense line. There were even stone bunkers in between the guard watchtowers. Looking closely, he noticed several bells attached to the barbed-wire fences. The defense line was so heavily guarded that an average agent wouldn't dare enter.

One had to remove three meters of the circular-barbed-wire fences with bells to deal with the rhombus-barbed-wire fences flowing with high voltage current. It was a simple yet effective barrier. A highly trained spy could easily remove the most complex electric fences. The fences and group of guards were merely an obstacle. Of course, that was not a problem for the ignorant Black Mamba.

The remaining explosives were barely eight kilograms. Could he detonate 120 missiles with eight kilograms of C-4 explosives? He'd rather be ordered to stab an elephant to death with a toothpick.

"Should I just wipe them all out?"

Black Mamba considered his options while running his fingers over the Peskett CCW. The situation would be easier if he could erase every living person in the camp and threaten the missile launching agent to rewire the missiles for self-destruction.

Frankly, he was tired of killing. A competitive spirit rose when he went against strong opponents like Ocelot, but the death of weak humans only increased the weight of blood on his hands. The emptiness he felt after killing people was similar to the exhaustion one felt when removing chicken heads.

Let's decide after I see the real deal.

Whoosh—

A black shadow crossed the empty land. The searchlights dizzily spun as it combed the outskirts.

Flick—

Flick—

A new technique was used, which was a mix of the four paced movement and dragon's back riding steps. In the first place, the searchlights couldn't catch up with a shadow that jumped 15 meters instantly.

Crack—

The ground's surface hollowed out at the strong impact. The Angel of Death lightly crossed the barbed-wire fences. It was like a cheat skill. The fences should be raised to 20 meters in order to block his path.

Two darts left Black Mamba's hands before he landed on the ground.

"Hugh!"

Two guards grabbed their necks and collapsed.

Tap—

The shadow disappeared into the darkness, leaving behind the sound of a chestnut falling onto the ground. It was 400 meters from the outer barbed-wire fences to the missile site. The black shadow crossed the vast land like the wind.

"Zaitun, you said you wanted peace, didn't you? I want it too. Destruction for peace! It's as contradictory as your weapon," Black Mamba mumbled as he took out the Peskett CCW.

The PK machine gun fields were situated along the outskirts of the rectangular missile field. While the outer defense line was avoided, he had no choice but to destroy the inner defense line. The guards would be able to hear him working on it unless they were deaf.

Darkness was Black Mamba's friend. There was no need to become one with nature when his opponents were regular soldiers. The black shadow slithered into the bunkers like a snake. A guard, who had his major vein punctured by the Peskett CCW, lifted his hand to his neck.

"Mosquito—"

One died quietly while another guard mumbled a groan before tilting his head. This meant that the botulinum toxin in the Peskett CCW had weakened.

Black Mamba personally visited each of the 13 bunkers. All that remained in place of Azrael's path were soulless lumps of protein.

The missiles that were positioned upright in the dark looked like monsters. There were four sets of Berkuts tied onto a gantry load. Black Mamba speedily searched his mind. It was the S-25P Berkut of 6.7 meters long with a diameter of 0.56 meters and a weight of 570 kilograms. It was a lighter derivative with a shorter range.

When one S-75 missed its target, two others would automatically chase after the same target. On the other hand, the S-25 had an orderly system that launched one at a time. It was an ancient system.

He immediately leaped onto the gantry and looked for a toolbox. The system wasn't well-maintained. Red scales had formed on the corroded gantry load. That was likely since it was made 25 years ago. The b*stard was also a grim reaper to a rusty second-hand model.

Missiles were normally secured onto the gantry with a clasp. There was always a toolbox on the gantry to dismantle the clasp.

Crack—

He tore open the toolbox and grabbed a large wrench.

"Hmph!"

He dismantled the clasp and lifted the missiles. 570 kilograms wasn't an easy weight, even for Black Mamba. He had to work under the moonlight.

"Ugh, it's hard to work for food," he grumbled while carrying the missiles on his shoulder.

Bang—

He threw the missiles down while trying to move it to the highest point of the missile site. It was a cumbersome task. Black Mamba had come up with the dumbest idea, which was to accumulate all the missiles like a scrap metal dump before blowing it all up at once.

"Aref, I heard something."

"I heard it too."

Two guards approached his working site.

"Huh! Aref, was there an order for a missile retrieval in the middle of the night?"

"Never heard of it. Damn air force b*stards, they're handling the precious missiles like trash."

Black Mamba snickered as he overheard their conversation. The guards didn't doubt the current situation at all. Well, they wouldn't have imagined someone moving a 570-kilograms missile.

"Ah, what…what is that?"

When Black Mamba appeared out of nowhere, one of the guards stuttered in surprise. Someone had appeared out of nowhere while carrying a missile of over six meters in length. He deserved to be speechless.

"Tout mes condolences!"[3]

Woosh—

He swung midway to the left before swinging to the right.

Bang—

Bang—

The guards, who were hit on their heads with the missile, silently turned into paste. They were the first and last humans to be killed by the body of a missile.

Throughout his mission, he'd been bothered four times. Even a dog got mad when its plate was touched. The guards, who had appeared around his working site, had their souls separated from their bodies without hesitation.

Black Mamba worked like an ant, unlike his usual self. Two hours later, four massive piles of missiles appeared. He'd stacked 120 missiles into groups of 30 like firewood after dismantling the clasp. One would have a hard time processing the unbelievable sight even after seeing it with their own eyes.

He landed on his rear after accomplishing a feat. In two hours, he'd dismantled and moved 68 tons worth of objects. The Paranthropus' energy and strength had hit its lowest. He had to supply his body with sugar and oxygen for a fast recovery. He shoved the special chocolates made out of date palms into his mouth.

Black Mamba had done something useless again. If it were Jang Shin, he would have worked on 30 missiles considering the number of explosives and terrain. Detonating 30 Berkut missiles would blow up the entire missile and radar sites instantly. The Northern Strategic Air Defense Force would end up like a dog's fur without the core system.

"Hehehe, I'm doing all kinds of things in my life. Oi, Mitterrand, I don't like doing labor."

He continued to laugh. He considered his actions hilarious, which was gathering all the missiles in one place due to the lack of explosives. Black Mamba hadn't expected that Mitterrand would give him an allowance of 300,000,000 francs for the missiles.

"By the way, won't I turn into mush if everything exploded at once?"

The warheads itself weighed at least 24 tons. Cliffs had collapsed after he had exploded the storage facility with 20 warheads. This time, there were 120. He grew slightly worried. Searching for any type of information that wasn't stored in the synapses was useless.

"Well, something should happen."

[1] The time and state of affairs in Arabia before the advent of Islam in 610 CE, also known as the Age of Ignorance.

[2] Non-believer / heathens.

[3] "I give you all my condolences!"