Mercenary Black Mamba - Chapter 107

Chapter 107: Chapter 14, Episode 5: Counterattack

Black Mamba was someone who detested rape.

His Aunt, Jang, had twisted his life by accusing him of rape. Black Mamba was someone with a grudge embedded in his bones on top of the suspicions he had about his mother’s disappearance.

A rapist had to pay his sins through death. Ombuti’s daughter, who was raped, had only been 13 years old. He had marked Habib’s name with a red marker ever since they planned their return to Paya.

The captain’s face grew dark.

Black Mamba’s declaration was something that went directly against his plans to not enter the building. This had never happened before. He was mostly just surprised.

“Black Mamba, you’re making things difficult.”

“Captain, I’ve respected your position as the leader up until now, but this time it’s different. If you disagree, I’ll execute my own mission. I will kidnap Habib and use him as a hostage.”

“Ugh!” The captain’s face collapsed at Black Mamba’s pressure.

It was hard to ignore Black Mamba’s intentions, and it was hard to approve of them. Invasion, distraction, and assassination were the Deuxieme Rep’s specialties. They could break into a mansion with 70 guards in the span of a second. Keeping Habib as hostage was also something that could be considered, but the problem was Black Mamba’s safety. If something happened to him, the Ratel’s team return would become impossible.

Bell Man stepped up to create a consensus.

“Black Mamba, we’ll capture Habib alive. There won’t be a problem as long as you watch our backs.”

The mercenaries nodded as one. Having harm fall on them was better than harm falling on Black Mamba. Their possibilities of returning alive were aligned with Black Mamba’s well-being.

“Accepted. I’ll watch your backs so you can enter the mansion with ease.”

“Hehehe, there’s nothing to fear with Black Mamba backing us up. I need to find out what Habib looks like.”

At Bell Man’s words, Ombuti took out a rolled piece of paper from his loose gandoura. When he rolled it open, a complicated caricature was revealed. The large star-shaped scar on his forehead was unique.

It left a strong impression of the Tibesti Arabs. The darkly burnt face, thick curls, deep-set eyes, and wide nose were traditional features of the Jerero Tribe of Tibesti.

“This was drawn with a foot,” Mike decided simply.

“A friend who works in his gardens drew this. The drawing may as well have been drawn with a foot, but you’d be able to recognize him with the scar on his forehead. That scar was probably given by my wife, who fought back with a rock when she was raped. My wife…” Ombuti swallowed the rest of his words. He couldn’t humiliate his family any longer.

“Ombuti, just you wait. I’ll make sure he remains alive until he’s in your hands. I’ll let you destroy your enemy under Allah’s name. I promise you that with my name as Black Mamba on the line,” Black Mamba promised for the first time with his name.

“Oh, Bismela! Allah has sent the Azrael, the angel of death, the Islamic warrior who rules over death, the salvation of God, to me. As long as Wakil has promised, Habib is finished. I am Wakil’s slave. My life is for you, Wakil! Salam Alleh Koom!”

After finishing his speech, Ombuti jumped up and knelt down with a thud. He raised his hands into the air and gave a solemn bow with his body lowered to the ground.

“Uh, what are you doing?!” Surprised, Black Mamba jumped up and avoided him. He had known that Ombuti called himself his slave but had received the notion half-jokingly, thinking he would stop sometime soon. But what was this?! Something serious had happened. He felt as though a large lump was attaching itself to him.

“Wakil, I promise to give all of my life to you. I will keep this promise with Allah’s name! Salam Alleh Koom!” Ombuti knocked his head on the floor three times.

“Oh my goodness. I’m twenty years old, you old man.”

He had gained an old servant now. Black Mamba wrapped his arms around his throbbing head.

Ombuti couldn’t see anything else besides his rose-tinted world.

The Azrael was the angel of death to his enemies, but the angel of salvation for his allies. Black Mamba was the angel of salvation Allah had sent to him to relieve his pitiful misfortune.

He had rampaged after losing his wife and daughter, blinded with revenge, but soon felt the limits of his weakness. Black Mamba had appeared when he had given up on revenge and was simply crying tears of blood. With incredible battle powers, an open heart, and strange inhumane abilities, he was the true incarnation of Azrael.

According to Allah’s prophecy, “he would appear when you were at your worst.” Black Mamba was someone who could measure up to the Warrior Azrael, who ruled over death.

Ombuti had a traditional way of thinking, but he wasn’t an idiot.

Black Mamba was someone who had wiped out the infamous FAP. The very Musta who had gained his fame under the nickname Kanma had also died in a single blow. Even the evil Colonel Ahmud had been gifted in his hands.

Black Mamba had just said that he’d capture the evil spirit Habib. His revenge was finally complete. Black Mamba, who had come from a mysterious place in the East, was an amazing warrior.

Serving a great warrior benefactor who finished off their enemies was the pride and tradition of the Tuareg warriors.

The moon was in the sky. It was a very disadvantageous night for a surprise attack.

Six black shadows ran down the street like ghosts. Not even an ant could be seen on the streets, like Ombuti had said.

“Se porti! (Wait!)” Black Mamba stopped the group. There was a watch box 330 feet ahead with a black door. It was the first checkpoint Ombuti had mentioned. It had been disguised rashly as a normal house, but it couldn’t fool Black Mamba’s senses.

“I’ll get rid of it.” Black Mamba flashed, then disappeared.

He didn’t want to drag the fight out. They had to crush Habib and run to Bata Province as fast as they could.

“Un, deux, trois, quatre, there’s four.”

He was on top of an acacia tree 100 feet away from the watch box. The hidden angel of death confirmed the numbers as names to wipe off his ledger. There were two on the roof, which was raised between red bricks, and two inside.

The two guards on the roof were talking about something funny and laughing, knocking their shoulders together.

‘I have no personal grudge against you. Blame our meeting on us being soldiers.’

Black Mamba pulled on the trigger without hesitation. Pah pah— Holes appeared on their chests and foreheads. The guards’ eyes widened in the middle of passing time with meaningless conversations before they fell to the ground.

Black Mamba kicked off the branch he was standing on.

Rustle—

Using the rebound, his body streaked across the air. He flew 100 feet before he landed on the roof’s head, and from there, he landed on the roof.

Most of the houses in the area covered their rooves with woven straw. The inside of the house could be seen immediately after pushing aside some of the reeds. They had no protection against rain, as there was no rain.

He lifted the reeds aside. Two mixed Arabs in uniforms were snoring.

Pat, pat—

The shadow disappeared immediately after creating holes in their foreheads.

Black Mamba who had disappeared in a flash appeared 650 feet back, below the acacia tree once more. It was a large tree, seeming to be at least 165 feet in height. The most common type of palm tree in Paya was the Royal Palm. It climbed several feet into the air without branches and reached out with thick leaves.

Black Mamba climbed the palm tree very well, despite the lack of any handles or footing. His fingers dug deeply into the sleek trunk. He pulled up as though a rope was pulling him from above and seated himself 130 feet in the air with the leaves. His movements were those that monkeys would have drooled over. There were 1,500 feet until the mansion’s main house, and he could see the inside clearly.

<ul>

Entrance cleared. Enter after a minute. A thousand feet in. Prepare to be spotted.

Get rid of the sentry and machine guns in the front gate.

No problem. Roger that.

</ul>

Habib’s mansion was a mix of grand buildings and well-maintained gardens, similar to a palace. There was a fountain imitating Mount Emi Koussi in the middle of the grass.

To see a fountain in Paya, where a single drop of rain never fell! Black Mamba clicked his tongue. Fine, he’d make the b*stard’s blood flow like a fountain, as well.

Habib was someone who shouted about sacrificing blood for his people. He was a bstard who wanted to free the hungered people from outside influences. He was the bstard who wanted to create Allah’s world that was happy.

It was all rubbish. The b*stard could save several thousands of people by simply getting rid of his mansion alone. If he shared just the water he used for his garden, several farming families could avoid droughts.

Black Mamba attached the silencer to his Dragunov’s muzzle. He could see the roof of the main building from his tree. The machine gun camp that was hidden behind concrete obstacles also had a searchlight.

The Ratel team had to climb 1,000 feet uphill to enter the mansion. If Ombuti hadn’t gained the information, they would have become feed for the machine guns upstairs. He marked down his targets according to the watch box by the front gate, the machine gunners up on the roof, and the machine gunner near the searchlight.

The checkpoint’s role was to watch the road coming up to the mansion. It had to be erased first in order to conceal his comrades’ advances.

Clang— Clang—

The two guards who had their faces blown off fell back. The second targets were the machine gunners on the roof and their sub-gunners. The reason why he had climbed the tree was in order to catch those b*stards.

The dark face that filled his scope was a human who didn’t know what his fate would be 0.3 seconds later. Crack- The sound of a bullet cracking a skull rang out. Sometimes, his sensitive ears were bothersome.

Black Mamba turned on his headset after getting rid of the front guards and machine gunners. He could see his comrades who were entering secretly by the walls.

<ul>

Dock cleared. The bear is sleeping. Enter.

Thanks, location?

Fourteen hours, 1,600 feet back, palm tree.

Conceal yourself. Roger.

</ul>

The mercenaries’ movements began to speed up.

There was nothing to fear now that Black Mamba had opened up a path. The mansion came into view the moment they passed the black gate.

Jang Shin’s energy faltered at the large mansion’s aura.

His stomach flipped. He could tell what kind of humans Habib and his followers were simply by looking at the luxurious mansion. Even the Deputy Director of Public Security of the Anhui Province lived in a hut compared to this mansion. How similar were these b*stards who filled their bellies by selling their peoples’ names?!

They charged their high-speed missile 500 feet from the black gate, using the 84mm anti-tank gun. The 3.3-inch M2CG was the second improved version of Calgustap’s recoilless cannon. In addition to the melded gunpowder used in anti-tank weapons, it could be used exclusively with normal high explosives.

The recoilless gun was beginning to retreat after the emergence of RPGs in Europe and the US. On the other hand, it was still beloved in Africa and Asia for its cheapness.

A pair of slitted eyes glared at the iron doors that stood still. The b*stard who had run Hou Ing, his wife, over with his car, the same Public Security Head Chief who had stolen his son, his house was similarly large and black.

Jang Shin had the second highest kill count after Black Mamba.

If Black Mamba was the nightmare of battlefields, he was the Explosives Devil of them. After running around the rough Sahel for a month, being chased and killing, all he had left in him were killing intentions. And the mansion in front of his eyes was evil. The Habib b*stard in that mansion was the evil one who had bothered them all.

Crash—

The reason why Jang Shin had brought his recoilless cannon was because of its strong warhead. The M2CG warhead was three times more explosive than an RPG7. The front gate, which was made of 0.7-inch double iron plates, turned into a piece of tissue paper.

The iron gate crinkled apart like a Styrofoam panel with a single blow of the high explosive. The two guards who were wrapped into the explosion also flew into the air.

The mansion that received the sudden attack buzzed to life. Guards and armed soldiers burst out like a swarm of bees. Some of them ran to the main building, while the others made a fan position to guard the surroundings. The mansion soon turned into an invaded chicken coop with the sounds of explosions, guns, emergency bells, and shouts.

“That’s right. All the honey bees should come out at the sight of a hornet.”

Clang, clang, clang— Clang, clang, clang—

It was three-tap sniping. Black Mamba’s Dragunov began to spit fire as though it had been waiting.

The guards who had been watching the premises fell like dominoes and buried their heads into the ground.

The grass turned red.

“Sniper!”

“Lock down, lock down!”