Mercenary Black Mamba

Black Mamba was calm. The S-75 missile system was made to launch the second and third missiles if the first had failed to hit the target. The first missile had, fortunately, hit the flare, but the remaining two would continue to follow.

He wanted to kick the Hercules' rear as it tilted from side to side trying to soar through the air. He found it laughable that he was forced to wait for another explosion to hit, despite his immense strength.

F****** hell, the old man should've been here!

His teacher would have done something. He would either split up the missile by ball air explosion or turn the seeker into a blind man. He would also crash two missiles by using psychokinesis. His teacher's ability wasn't like magic tricks where he could bend spoons, but like teleportation, he could move rocks, which was the real deal.

It was the highest form of ability granted by the heavens that he couldn't acquire. The ability was for someone who was part of Buddha's constitution in which he wasn't.

"God!"

"Oh, my love Sabina!"

The panicking screams coming from the three babies had pierced his ears.

F****** idiots, what a fuss.

No one would remain calm before death, but as intelligence agents, their whining made them look stupid. The mercenaries that they had considered below them were the true warriors. Chartres could still joke around with a bullet wound in his shoulder, Miguel had died with a machine gun in his hands, and Burimer got himself shot while trying to protect Jang Shin.

"Ce mauvais! Tais-toi!"[1]

The roar of a tiger blasted through the cabin. The agents and Claude, who had been shouting, grabbed their ears.

"Claude, aren't you embarrassed? How could an Intelligence Department's manager forget the S-75's system manual? The missile's speed has reached maha despite its high launch. We can avoid them easily at this height."

Claude's face turned bright red. He wanted to bash his head for losing his mind at the sudden fear of death.

"This is embarrassing. I'm sorry."

The S-75 was originally designed to catch the United State's surveillance helicopters. The Hercules was slow, but it was already 10,000 meters up in the air. The chance of being shot was low.

"Ah, the left, left, there's two incoming!"

An agent who had been looking down from the window started shouting. The Hercules swerved largely to its right after confirming the missile's impact point. That was the limit of the carrier. It couldn't rapidly maneuver itself like a fighter aircraft.

The red-black flare approached by the second. The S-75 missile warhead V750V had a strong thrust, but as an air missile, it had a slow speed of 1,000 meters per second.

It was comparably slow, reaching 10,000 feet in 12 seconds. It was enough to catch up to the Hercules, which moved at 120 meters per second. The large vehicle tried its best to move away from the missile. It attempted its fastest speed and rise, which made the body tremble as though it would break.

Boom—

Orange lights streaked through the night sky. Another explosion soon followed, scattering red pieces. It was chaff, an aluminum that was heated to 1,000 degrees.

1,000s of aluminium pieces flew through the night sky, which was lit in orange. The Hercules, which had thrown all its chaff and flares, began to move out of range as quickly as it could.

One missile had been lured by the flare. The missile, which ran into the orange light, exploded and bloomed into black flowers. The remaining missiles chased after the helicopter tenaciously.

Vvrrrrr—

The red light pierced the orange flare as though it was ripping through silk.

"Putain, putain!"[2]

Claude, who was attached to the left view, started swearing. The agent who had been standing on the right view rushed to grab the parachute container.

Black Mamba was relaxed. The Hercules helicopter didn't fall apart from a single missile. Even if they were bombed, there had been enough time to escape. They could have broken through the door and jumped.

Booom—

The helicopter shook severely.

Beep—

Beep—

Beep—

The emergency siren began to ring loudly.

"Aaaah! We've been hit! We've been hit!"

Claude shoved his head underneath the taxing chair. The agents, who were out of their minds, stopped wearing the parachute container and wrapped their hands around their heads.

"You f****** idiots!" Black Mamba smiled.

He'd released his entire dimensional sight. The missile's warhead had been unable to overcome the air pressure and self-exploded 30 meters ahead, on their left.

They'd managed to avoid a direct hit but had been showered with metal pieces instead. The S-75's V750V could send pieces flying across 65 meters in the troposphere and 250 meters in the stratosphere. The Hercules used a Sable engine. A heavyweight champion wouldn't go down from a few punches.

Grrrr—

The Hercules changed its direction to Aleppo in a rush, like a pheasant being chased by a hawk. The three DGSE b*stards were in a panic. Black Mamba crossed the cabin with waddling strides. He grabbed the intercom and called the cockpit.

"Pilot, this is the special military advisor. Report the current altitude we're on and the damage we've faced, right now."

"We're at an altitude of 12,500 meters. The left main wing's engine loss rate is at 100 percent, the aileron is damaged, and the tail lift hydraulic system is damaged too, over!"

"Will there be any effects on the flight?"

"There won't be any problems. We'll face some troubles with evasive turns and gaining altitude, but there won't be more than a five percent effect on the flight."

He could see the running gasoline from the window.

"Oil's running. Is there any problem?"

"It's the left wing's third tank. There won't be a problem, sir."

Black Mamba sighed silently in relief. They'd suffered small damages aside from the broken engine. A plane's oil tank was located on either side of the wing. A military plane separated the tanks into compartments in case of attacks. A Hercules had 10 oil compartments. The third was comparatively small.

"Technician, is there a risk of explosion?"

The cons of large aircraft carriers like the Hercules was its slow speed and fuel tanks. The aircraft would turn into roasted meat in mid-air if a tank exploded.

"Currently, there are no dangers, sir."

"Pilot, report the current location."

"We're 30 kilometers before the mission point, at the Simeon mountains."

"Good. Follow the original flight plan."

The Hercules emitted smoke below its left-wing but withstood the strain stoically. Unlike the plane, the humans couldn't regain their composure.

Slap—

Slap—

Slap—

The sound of the impact on their skin rang across the carrier. The group regained focus in their eyes.

"There's no problem with our current flight. We'll maintain the course."

"Yes, understood, sir," Claude answered amid his confusion.

"Get your s*** together, you f******."

Black Mamba kicked their rears, too, before waddling to the door. The carrier, which went through a very violent welcome, maintained an altitude of 12,000 meters. The altitude slowly began to drop above the rudder.

"Advisor, we're in the target's skies."

"I know," he responded shortly to the agent's report and checked the altimeter and AAD.

"Advisor, the pilot is calling."

He received the intercom that Claude had handed over.

"This is the pilot here. We're at 11,800 meters, but there is a turbulence in the north-east going at 30 meters per second. We need to move 50 kilometers north to avoid the turbulence."

"Is it a jet stream?"

"No, sir. In the summer, jet streams tend to go up around 50 degrees in the north latitude. It's an unstable storm that sometimes occurs between the troposphere and stratosphere."

"Got it. Proceed as usual."

"Roger."

He'd decided to burn it all off with his body instead. Dreams lasted as long as the night. He didn't know when an emergency might occur. He wondered how far he'd be pushed by the wind if he attempted to dive.

Vroom—

The drop signal sounded. He tightened the helmet and harness. An agent opened one of the two-layered doors. The harsh sound of wind rang as though it would split his eardrums despite the closed outer door.

"Advisor, we wish for your safe return!" the agents shouted as one.

Black Mamba smiled at them and headed to the door. The weight wasn't much, but the two bags on his hip had ruined his walk.

The inner door closed, and the outer door opened. A bluster of wind from the ink-like air flew in. He felt as though the iron handle he was holding on to would be plucked out.

The atmospheric pressure was 14.7 psi[3]. The air pressure within the carrier was controlled to 10.92 psi according to its altitude of 8,000 meters. At 12,500 meters, the air pressure was 3.6 psi. He could be sucked out without any preparations.

He could be swept along with the wind if thrown rapidly. If he was sucked into the engine or propellers, that would mark his funeral. Throwing one's body 12 kilometers above ground into the darkness, amidst a harsh current, which wailed like a ghost? He wouldn't be human if he wasn't scared.

"F***, will the steering line[4] work?" Black Mamba complained as he aligned the canopy's opening mark to 1,000 meters.

The Ain Dara Hills, where he'd meet the slipper, was 15 kilometers north-east of Kaparja Valley. He had to cross at least 15 kilometers during his HALO jump. If the wind pushed him further to the north-east, he'd face some serious problems.

Dudududu—

The carrier shook once. It lifted into the air before it dropped. There was great turbulence. The agents inside the strong-glass doors made an "X" with their arms and shook it up and down in disapproval. It meant that the situation wasn't right for a jump.

"I could live or die. Namu Amita Bul!"

Black Mamba blurted out an irresponsible comment before throwing his body into the darkness. The human with pieces of baggage larger than himself disappeared into the dark space at once. His prayers echoed around the gate, where the thick wind blew.

Claude and the agents attached themselves to the window. They stretched their necks as far as they could and looked down. They couldn't see anything. They couldn't even see the nighttime parachute light. Only darkness was seen as though it was the entrance to hell. Well, there was no reason for Black Mamba to turn on the night light since he was the only one falling.

"He's left!" Claude murmured with an exasperated voice.

"He's gone!" The agents echoed together and stared at each other's faces.

The two shook their heads. They had doubts, but the person they addressed as the special military advisor had really gone through with the 12,000 meters jump without any safety gears.

"Will it be possible?"

"Impossible. He'll become a crater in Kaparja Valley after turning into a lump of ice."

"Won't the strong winds carry him to Baghdad?"

"The parachute won't even reach the container. He'll drop off somewhere in the Syria desert, tangled in wires."

"Then, what was that stupidity?"

"I don't know anything else other than the fact that he's the Department of National Defense's special military advisor. He's a colonel or something?"

"Why would a colonel commit suicide? Is this a cyborg test by the Technical Design Division?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Anyway, that was one hell of a suicide."

The intelligence agents who didn't know of Black Mamba's true identity spilled the thoughts that they'd been holding back. They concluded that it was a flashy suicide.

Creaak—

The Hercules turned its head and headed towards Lebanon. The pilot had no intention of getting hit with another missile during their return.

Claude stared blankly through the window. He felt as though he'd sent a lover away. Black Mamba was a human that was unlike a human, but it didn't seem as though he could win against the environment.

Even if he did manage to infiltrate, could he erase the impenetrable Ruman and return by himself?

"God, please protect that dehumanized man. He may have stray hands and speak harshly, but he's a true man."

Claude began to pray as he clasped his hands together unknowingly. He was beginning to show the first symptom of the Ombuti virus.

Claude's mind felt uneasy the entire way back. He felt cowardly for sending Black Mamba into hell while he returned to sit behind a desk.

"Sir, what kind of sorcery is this?"

"Whether it's a prank or sorcery, it is none of your business. It's a mission that you shouldn't know about with your access level. I'm enacting internal law F12a2. I hope you'll open your mouths after you're buried."

Claude's face turned stiff. The agents affirmed with a sigh.

Whoosh—

Black Mamba fell in a straight line with his head down. He accelerated at a horrifying speed. The altimeter jumped around fiercely. The strong currents pressed down as the air pressurized. His belly attached itself to his back.

To decrease the falling speed of a HALO jump, one had to spread their limbs wide and lean back as much as possible. Instead, he increased his descending speed to its maximum. The sensation of viscera slipping out of his a**hole wasn't pleasant at all.

He descended at 120 meters per second, but the wind pushed him north-east relentlessly. He felt that he was being pushed four to five meters per second, although he had enjoyed the pull of gravity. He was drifting further away from the landing point.

Black Mamba, who had escaped the strong air currents, advanced into a flying position. The altitude was 8,000 meters, which meant he'd descended 4,500 meters instantly. He released his buckle and allowed the two bags to fall below his waist.

The bag connected to his parachute fell long beneath him. That was when his body had become free from its restrictions. White frosts covered his front visor. When he raised his hand and wiped his visor's lens, he heard the sound of friction. The glove, which was made of carp leather and coated with kevlar, had become hard like wood.

His terminal velocity was 60 meters. The air was clear and fresh. A lonely dot fell diagonally to the north-east where the sky was void of light.

The ground rushed up to him with an altitude closing up to 1,000 meters.

"Open!"

His hand, which habitually went to his rear, paused. By setting the altitude of descent, the canopy would open automatically without the need to pull a bridle[5].

The CYPRES[6] activated.

The canopy opened instantly.

Clack—

With the counter-gravity at work, his body was lifted with an immense shock. He sighed in relief. Even Black Mamba would worry about the parachute's functionality whenever he jumped.

[1] "This is bad! Shut up!"

[2] "F***, f***!"

[3] Pound per square inch.

[4] Handles that help to control a parachute.

[5] It is a webbing strap or cord that affects the launch of a parachute.

[6] A specific make and model of an automatic activation device(AAD), a device that automatically activates a parachute.