Mercenary Black Mamba

Without finishing the end of his sentence, the light in Burimer's eyes went out.

Maybe because he had died in his comrade's arms, Burimer closed his eyes comfortably. Bell Man lifted his eyelids and checked his pupils, then shook his head.

"He's dead. Our sergeant is dead. Wahhh!"

Jang Shin hugged Burimer and cried. Even the captain looked broken up.

A single tear fell from Black Mamba's eye. The hot tear rolled onto Burimer's pale cheek.

Even with his last breath, he was a man who worried about his family and comrades, which made their hearts ache.

"Mu Ssang, your mother, mother, take care of your mother." His father too had asked him to take care of his frail wife with his last breath. The image matched Burimer's death.

"Farewell. You were a great comrade and friend."

This was an absurd end for Sergeant Burimer, who had two daughters and was a fan of fishing. His legendary fishing stories had now come to an end. They would no longer be able to hear of his special skill, shooting a needle into an impossibly small space, anymore.

Yes. Whatever words one used to describe it, life was short. The thought that there was life after death was ridiculous.

The captain's eyes trembled as he watched Burimer's corpse being laid down. Burimer wasn't just any soldier; he was his right-hand man and the one who had led the team, having been the oldest among them.

Burimer had two daughters, five-year-old Silvie and seven-year-old Leah, who were at their most adorable ages. His daughters had lost a father, and his wife had lost a husband.

And he had lost his friend and a competent comrade. Even if death was normal for a mercenary, he was still a father, a husband, and a friend. He wasn't the type of person who deserved to die this way.

Burimer's death was the same as if the captain had killed him himself. Compared to men like Black Mamba and Ocelot, humans seemed so weak. Who could have imagined that a light kick from an insane assassin could take out the light of life from someone?!

Burimer's death was directly related to the captain's missed judgement call. It was the result of his stubbornness to regain communication even when Black Mamba had hit him to make him come to his senses. He had surpassed sadness and was now furious. There was nowhere to release his emotions. He felt that his skills as a captain were pitiful.

An emotion he couldn't exactly describe filled his chest and hit him squarely in the heart. On his previously dry cheeks, a trail of tears rolled down. The composure he had tried so hard to keep was swiftly collapsing.

Black Mamba's face turned quickly around.

The captain was crying while banging his head against the wall.

"Captain, don't show us this pathetic side of you. If the leader is shaken, the team is shaken as well."

"Black Mamba, it's all my fault. Because of my stubbornness, Chartres died, then Morris, Miguel, and now, Burimer. I don't deserve to be a leader."

"So?"

"I'm giving up my position to you."

Black Mamba suddenly became extremely annoyed.

The worth of a leader was recognized in times of hardship. Humans tended to give up in defeat when they were placed in a difficult situation. He could understand their feeling of remorse and pressure, but it was nothing short of pathetic.

"Captain, stop saying gibberish. I'm a private. If a group of mercenaries is led by a private, even donkeys will laugh at us."

"Before you're a private, you're a call name agent. You are a high-ranking special force agent."

Black Mamba didn't answer and instead went to the window.

With a creaking sound, a metal pipe holding up the curtain was pulled off with ease.

"It's too long."

Black Mamba folded the 13-foot-long metal rod in half then folded it in half again afterwards. The metal rod broke into four clean pieces.

"It's still too long."

He folded the metal rod in half, then folded it again. He bent an inch-thick metal pipe as if he was folding paper.

Mike's face was ashen as he was reminded of an unsavory memory. The captain's face also looked less than comfortable. He frowned vigorously at the piece of pipe he held in his hand.

"It's uncomfortable because there are so many."

He removed one of the metal pieces and threw it at the wall.

Clang—

The captain jumped at the raucous sound, the image of Mike filling his head. Just thinking about becoming a captain who was beaten by a lower ranking official gave him the chills.

"Three is still too many."

Clang—

"Two is still uncomfortable. I don't think I'll get the full effect from them."

Clang—

"Good!"

The last remaining two-foot-long curtain rod spun in his hand and made a menacing sound as it whooshed through the air.

"Stop, I'm sorry." The captain dropped his head.

Black Mamba took turns glaring at his comrades.

"Are you going to follow the commands of someone with one year of experience or one with 20 years of experience?

The three mercenaries played along and teased together.

"Of course you should follow a more experienced leader's commands."

"Of course, the soldiers must fight according to rank."

"The lieutenant must take care of the little things."

"Haha! I don't like Psychology, the mind. Orthopedics, hands and feet, is much more my style."

Black Mamba threw the curtain rod he was holding at the wall.

Thud! The pipe traveled deep into the concrete and the end vibrated with the movement. The mercenaries who were watching shuddered along with it.

"Black Mamba, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking about how to approach the situation and was only worried about shifting away the responsibility. I was short-sighted."

The captain was sincerely sorry. He had made the wrong decisions, and Black Mamba had been the one to fix them all. How many times had he been indebted to him for saving his life? Debt, whatever form it took, always made the receiver feel burdened and handicapped, and debt from saving a life was even more serious.

"If you know, then that's enough. I brought this upon you as well."

Black Mamba blamed himself, too. After he had cleaned up the enemy forces, he had let down his guard. He had thought he had cleared the danger and grown too cocky. And so, he again lost a comrade, but regretting it now wouldn't change the past.

"Captain, do you live to be happy?"

"Don't all people want to be happy?"

"No, to live on, you need happiness. Happiness is a necessary tool with which to survive."

"Oh, another complicated philosophy?" complained Emil.

Black Mamba turned toward Emil. "Emil, you look for women every weekend. If sex was painful, would you still want to be on top of women?"

"Of course not."

"That's exactly it. Excitement and happiness exist to aid in survival and reproduction. We don't live to feel happiness; you feel happiness to live. If you feel sad, do you die? No. Happiness and sadness are like ice cream. As time passes, they both melt and disappear. You may be sad and miserable, but we must live and move on. Okay, let's move on. The blue bird isn't something meant to find but something that finds you."

"Wow, Black Mamba, you're so good at talking."

"Alluh, shop shop!" Mike and Bell Man cheered.

The captain was in awe. 'He's a philosophical beast with loyalty to boot. He's so cool. He's the one who should be a leader, but he was embarrassed to call himself a captain. I have to do what I have to do.'

"Jang Shin, collect the weapons from the dead. Mike, take records of their faces. Bell Man, treat Black Mamba's wounds properly. Emil, take care of Burimer."

The captain spat out command after command. He had faltered for a moment, but being a leader wasn't something anyone could do.

"Burimer died in a way that suited him. Let's make sure to take care of his family for him," Black Mamba mumbled to himself. In war, the most significant death was one given to save a comrade. His family would be extremely sad, but the mercenaries made peace with it. If they were going to die anyways, it was better to die a worthy death.

The faces of the soldiers looking down at Burimer's face were dark. Killed by the kick of an assassin. If he had died in the field during a battle, they wouldn't have felt as miserable.

Six corpses lay side by side on the floor of room 318, two Arabs and four Whites. There wasn't a single identification card in any of their belongings to figure out who they were. Only their corpses and Berettas were left.

"Captain, do you have any suspects you have in mind regarding who sent the assassin?"

"At the very least, I know it can't be the poor Frolinat punks." The captain's mouth felt bitter as he answered Emil's question.

They seemed to be falling deeper and deeper into a trap. DGSE might have thought of their team as a threat and had a high possibility of not being happy with their return. He kept imagining the worst.

"Captain, what do you think that monster was?" Jang Shin shivered.

"How could I know? He introduced himself as Ocelot. Of course, that has to be a nickname. He said he received a request from a client."

"A client?"

The mercenaries all made the same sound at the same time. They hadn't heard the details of Black Mamba's conversation with Ocelot.

"Hm!" The captain's expression grew darker.

Were they important enough to have a skilled assassin like that come after them?

'Was he, perhaps, after Black Mamba?'

If that was the case, then it was definitely from the DGSE headquarters. They were the only ones who knew enough about Black Mamba's skills. If they were to return, they would be the ones in an uncomfortable situation. If they had taken account of Black Mamba's skill and sent Ocelot, then this would all make sense.

"Captain! Look at this," Black Mamba interrupted the captain's thoughts.

Five Macarov guns were dropped onto the sofa.

"What is this now?" The captain's eyes grew wide.

There was no way he hadn't heard of Macarov. He was just asking how Black Mamba had come upon them.

"I followed the guy we were interrogating in the lobby and took out five of them."

"Huh!" The captain and his comrades all gasped reflexively.

Was he saying that the assassins came in while everyone was asleep, and he had taken care of them?! This was unbelievable.

"What do you think?"

Black Mamba pulled out the documents he had collected. "I don't know. Two Black people, one North Korean, and two Whites. I found this at the enemy's hiding place."

"Oh!" The captain spat out a gasp.

"Every dog and cow are after us," muttered Mike.

"Is this a random number table? It probably belongs to the KGB or Libya's army."

It wasn't even surprising. Chad's sponsor was Brezhnev, secretary to Gaddafi.

"Bell Man, take good care of them. When we return, those may end up being the most expensive things we own."

If evidence was revealed that the Soviets were part of the Chad resistance, the DGSE would cheer.

"Everyone, listen up well. You will all erase the memory of Black Mamba and Ocelot's fight. Understand?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Our return to safety is in Black Mamba's hands. As you can all see, Black Mamba is special. I do not wish for our friend and guardian angel to end up like a monkey in a zoo."

"Don't worry, he's one who always wanted a normal life. We aren't stupid enough to put someone who's shared blood with us in a difficult situation," Emil responded.

"Of course. Black Mamba is our friend before he's our comrade," Mike commented after hearing Emil's words. Everyone nodded their heads.

"The previous communication was wrong. Before they come for us, let's get out of here."

When Emil had finished wrapping Burimer's body in a sheet and was ready to start moving out, Ombuti came in.

"Traitor!" Mike pulled out his Glock.

After Ombuti had disappeared, the assassins started trailing them. Ombuti was the most likely suspect.

"Forget it. Ombuti is a comrade," Black Mamba yelled out.

"Alright." At Black Mamba's word, Mike put his suspicions to rest.

If Black Mamba said he wasn't, then he wasn't. He was the leader of the mercenaries' thoughts. Also, there was no reason for Ombuti, who worshiped Black Mamba, to betray them.

Ombuti was able to register the situation immediately. "I am not a traitor."

"That's right. Ombuti is our friend."

"Wakil!"

At Black Mamba's words, Ombuti's eyes filled with tears. He felt rewarded for having run around trying to avoid being detected by Frolinat.

"Wakil, were you hurt?"

Jang Shin and Emil had put on clothes they found around the hotel, but Black Mamba looked like a mess.

"Don't worry about it. Let's talk later."

Ombuti closed his mouth. If his master said so, then that's what he had to do.

Jang Shin whispered to Ombuti, "He's not in a good mood. Burimer died."

"Sergeant died? Really?" Ombuti jumped in surprise.

"That's not all. Another person like Black Mamba appeared."

"A person with Wakil's skills? Don't tease me." Ombuti couldn't believe a word of it.

"Go out to the garden. It will be a sight to see. The guy who Black Mamba attacked got away."

"He escaped Wakil's hands?"