Mercenary Black Mamba

It was part of the 50,000 francs that he had received from the DGSE as local operation funds.

"It's 10,000 francs. Buy a bike and create a temporary shelter for the Christians. If the Sunni faction's radicals start resisting, it could turn into a national crisis. Care for your family and trustable followers separately and establish an open communication system."

Mohammad's eyes widened. In Syria, 10,000 francs was a large amount. Aside from the amount, the fact that he was given a large amount for people he hadn't even met was unbelievable. Emotionally moved, Mohammad fell to his knees and started crying.

"All praise Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa! I thank you for your kindness on behalf of my brethren. One who has come in God's name, may you be praised! I will engrave your noble trust."

Black Mamba gave Bakri another 20,000 francs.

"Bakri, Syria is a country where the government controls its market prices and trade. If a civil war happens, there will be a shortage of food and living necessities. Prepare for that in advance with this money so that no Christians starve. I will leave Syria the moment this mission is complete. When I'm ready, I'll relocate all of you. Soon, this land will become hell," Black Mamba naturally gave out the necessary orders. He was starting to attain the frame of a leader.

"Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa, isn't this the funds for your operations?" Bakri asked worriedly.

"Hahaha, I don't need separate funds. If I happen to need it, I can just rob a bank."

Bakri and Mohammad nodded their heads at his intense description. There was nothing that Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa couldn't do once he set his mind to it.

"I will remember Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa's words. One who has come in God's name, may you be praised!"

"In sha Allah! I'll be borrowing two bikes."

"Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa, my sister, Bassel, insisted on greeting you, so I've brought her over," Mohammad said with difficulty after glancing at him several times.

"Bring her."

A slender woman wearing a hijab kneeled. She was a young woman whose large sad eyes peeked through the black cloth. In Syria, women who lived as Orthodox Christians also wore the traditional clothes of Islam. If they didn't, they were usually dragged and publicly humiliated.

"Praise Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa. Thank you. I have continued to live as I couldn't die because of a shameful body. I wanted to greet you before I die, sir apostle."

"Die? What is she saying?"

Surprised, Black Mamba turned to glare at Mohammad.

"It's the shame of our house," Mohammad, who was suppressing his overwhelming rage, mumbled.

Black Mamba snorted. Islam considered it their family's shame when a woman was humiliated. He'd heard that they would force suicide or eviction. He hadn't known that the Orthodox Christians would do the same too.

"Bakri, Mohammad, listen well. I understand you all follow the Muslim customs to live. There are many things to learn from Islam, but there are also many inappropriate customs to be discarded. Did Bassel commit a sin? She's but a victim. Are you asking her to bear all the sins when you can't even help overcome the family's nightmare? Is that it?"

Unable to hold back his anger, Black Mamba slammed the stone chair that he had been sitting on.

Bang—

The chair's armrest exploded. The family members flinched in surprise.

"As men and the leaders of your families, you couldn't protect Bassel. Why are people pushing the blame on a weak woman when they have failed to perform their duties? All of you should be ashamed. If I return to find Bassel's body harmed in any way, I won't forgive you."

"May Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa be blessed. We will keep that in mind."

Mohammad and Bakri lowered their heads. As men and the leaders of their families, hearing those words crushed their hearts.

"Bassel, come here."

Bassel shifted forward on her knees. Black Mamba placed his hand over Bassel's head and blessed her.

"Bassel Jadir, you have not sinned. The sinner has been punished. If you consider yourself guilty, I, Ddu-bai-buru-pa, pardon you. I, Ddu-bai-buru-pa, declare your heart and body pure."

"Oh, thank you. Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa, thank you."

Bassel, who was moved, began to cry. Her hijab was soon soaked with tears.

"Ooh, it is an honor," Mohammad and Bakri chorused.

The apostle had spoken. Bassel was now a completely innocent and pure woman. The two men's faces brightened up. They weren't happy with Bassel's misfortune, either.

F****** hell, what the f*** is this!

He was mad. They forced sexually assaulted women to commit suicide, considering them a shame to their household. Women were forced to wear dark clothes with only their eyes visible to keep men's desires in check. They publicly stoned a woman to death if she was found cheating on her husband. They were a mad organization.

Although of a different instance, the country that dragged women away for having long hair and shoved a ruler when one wore a skirt shorter than 30 centimeters was his own, Korea. That kind of world couldn't be ideal at all.

Korea, the Sahel, and that place was a doghouse. Sexual desires were a natural instinct that protected a species' population. The capability to control that desire was one of the conditions of being human. To him, it was a hellish world where the weaker party would take the blame for another person's uncontrolled desires.

The desire to become better and to reveal oneself were natural human instincts too. What sin did these women commit that they have to live their entire lives wrapped in black cloth? How was it a sin to reveal well-grown legs?

"Bassel, a good world will come. I will let you live in a world where it is unnecessary to wrap yourself in that kind of cloth. I will create a world where you can wear short skirts and pretty makeup while walking down the streets. Live well until then. I will select your husband with my own hands."

Bakri's mother and his wife, who had been listening in, rushed forward and kneeled before Black Mamba.

"May Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa be blessed! Thank you. You are the light and hope for us, women. One who has come in God's name, may you be praised! May Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa be everlasting!" the three women cheered loudly.

"Ugh, I'm going to go mad...mad! I will turn into a cult leader at this rate," Black Mamba complained in Korean.

He'd heard that women quickly converted into cult followers compared to men, but that was ridiculous. He was also slightly afraid. If he acted like sergeant Paul, who used to bless all battlefields, he would really turn into a religious leader.

Bakri and Mohammad dragged the duffle bag out with much trouble. Black Mamba slung the duffle bag horizontally around himself and shoved the backpack on top. There was a long way to go. Black Mamba said his farewells to Bakri's family, who had become his followers overnight.

There was a saying that those who met were bound to part, but looking at the family who came to bid him farewell made his heart twinge. The family members he had come to care for were growing in numbers when he hadn't even found his mother yet.

Ugh, my life. What should I do about this habit of prying into another person's business!

He automatically let out a sigh.

Bakri and Mohammad delivered the bike to the castle remains. Having lived through rough times, they went home and pretended as though they didn't see Zaitun.

"No. A bike will catch the Mukhabarat gate guards' attention. We need to travel by foot at night," the guide began to protest.

"Look, Zaitun. There's no need to worry about the Mukhabarat. I'll take care of them. You can stop worrying and lead the way."

"Why should I trust you? Guidance and route are under my control. I don't want to die like a dog."

"Let go, this f****** b*stard."

Black Mamba grabbed the back of his neck. If self-entitlement was a piece of art, that was it. They only had to travel 45 kilometers. That b*stard wasn't thinking about creating a route around security but instead, walking under the dark. Ombuti had led the team through the rough Sahel lands, across 5,000 kilometers. He truly began to miss Ombuti.

"Damn you, you f****** b*stard!"

In the end, Black Mamba exploded.

Bang—

Zaitun only agreed after his eye got hit.

Two old bikes ran down south, emitting black puffs down highway 217. Out of the 1,500,000 people in Aleppo, only 1,000,000 lived in Aleppo. The population near Turkey's borders up north was very low.

From Gobelaka Village to Kaparja Valley, the only large villages were Afrin and Nahda. Other than that, small-scale villages were made up of houses grouped in 10s and 100s.

From Maydanki Lake to Aleppo, there were wide flatlands. They followed along the hills, with endless olive trees and pomegranate trees in view. The flatlands were either filled with white cotton fields or a mill farm. The moment he saw the cotton fields, he thought of Edel. She had left because she wanted to, but it was a job filled with hard labor.

I wonder if Edel's well? Her face may get burns from examining the terrain and weather.

Hae Young's image was growing blurry while Edel was starting to fill her place. Thinking of how he'd just worried about Edel's face burning under the sun got him flustered.

It seems like I'm a male, after all! The saying is true—the mind grows distant when physically apart.

The guide ended his straying thoughts.

"It's the gate."

300 meters ahead, a wooden barricade was blocking the road. A strong lantern light shook up and down violently. There was a b*stard in a Hawaiian shirt, a b*stard in a short-sleeved tobe, and a b*stard in a leather jacket—it was the Mukhabarat.

"Don't be afraid and slow down. I'll figure things out."

Black Mamba changed his mind in the midst of pulling out his Glock. The Mukhabarat evoked fear out of all Syrians. He heard they arrested people for a single misspoken word, and they would get shot immediately. Experiencing how they treated the public wouldn't be bad.

The bike stopped in front of the barricade. The b*stard holding the lantern approached with a swagger. The other two b*stards were leaning on one leg with cigarettes in their mouth. They looked just like the street gang members in Korea. Considering their attitudes, they weren't about to pull their guns out immediately.

"Ah-hllan wa shahllan bi Qarah Bash."[1]

The b*stard, who greeted them with a crooked smile and a cigarette in his mouth, was wearing a palm-tree and dolphin printed Hawaiian shirt. He definitely wasn't welcoming them. Black Mamba remained expressionless while Zaitun's face turned yellow.

"Oi, where are you going, and where are you from?"

"We're...we're heading to Aleppo from Gobelaka."

Zaitun shivered so much that he looked pitiful.

"And who is that b*stard?"

"I...I don't know him."

"Oi, take off your ghutra."

The lantern light fell directly on Black Mamba's face. He complied and took off his ghutra.

"Huh, are you Chinese?"

Black Mamba shook his head from side to side and turned his palms face-up to shake them. It meant that he didn't know and had no business with them.

The b*stard, who was wearing a khaki-colored tobe, frowned.

"Oi, are those b*stards our friends?" the b*stard in the leather jacket asked.

His eyes were on the duffle bag, which was loaded on the bike's carrier.

Bakri had told him that there were two meanings when the Mukhabarat asked if they were "huwa sadi-ki[2]." One was to confirm whether he was a pro-government member, and the other was whether to decrease their toll fee. Saying "La[3]" would get one arrested or shot.

"La!"

Clack—

The b*stard at the back raised his safety pin. It was obvious that he had the intention to kill and loot his belongings.

"Damn b*stard!"

"Kugh!"

The leather jacket b*stard, who had been aiming at him from the back, grabbed his neck and fell to the ground. A dart as thin as a chopstick had pierced his neck.

"Wh...what?"

In shock, the b*stards in the shirt and tobe grabbed the rifles slung around their shoulders.

Sst—

Splat—

Splat—

The Gorgon landed on their shoulders and immediately assembled their rifles into his bag.

"Aaargh!"

The b*stards in the shirt and tobe, who had their right shoulders shattered, fell forward. The leather jacket b*stard had already stopped breathing. Black Mamba tossed him into the bushes at the side of the road.

Woosh—

His corpse flew 20 meters away. The other two, who suffered major injuries, were also thrown relentlessly.

Is...Is that even human?

Zaitun was freaking out. He hadn't gotten a proper look at the weapon that had shattered the Mukhabarat's shoulders. He was faster than a leopard and stronger than a European brown bear. Moreover, his hands had moved without hesitation.

He's a scary b*stard.

Zaitun broke out in cold sweats.

"Hey, Zaitun!"

"Ye...Yes!"

He looked as though he'd cry any minute. Black Mamba was almost worried that he would wet himself.

"Translate."

Black Mamba grabbed Zaitun and dragged him into the forest.

"Hargh!" Zaitun screamed.

The Hawaiian shirt b*stard's head was broken. White brain fluid was flowing out of his skull.

"Tsk!" Black Mamba clicked his tongue.

He'd thrown them to avoid obstacles, but he couldn't distinguish every rock on the forest floor. The b*stard in the tobe had knocked out from the continuous shock. He was on the better side of health. He shoved the b*stard in the tobe over and slapped his spinal point with his palm.

"Quack!"

The effects were immediate. The b*stard in the tobe spat out black blood and regained his senses.

"Ask him whether there's another gate to Kaparja. Tell him that if he doesn't answer properly, I'll tear apart his arms and legs, one after another."

Muslims were very afraid of harming their bodies. That was because they believed that the soul would return to its body. Black Mamba had learned enough in the Sahel.

"Hoo!"

Zaitun grew scared as though he was the one who was being threatened. Considering how he had been acting all along, he was someone who'd survive even after his arms and legs were torn apart just like a dragonfly without its wings.

"He says there's another unit."

"Confirm the concentrated location of the soldiers and the Mukhabarat."

"He says they're searching for the masjids that were spread throughout the country. He doesn't know much about the happenings in Damascus, but apparently, battles are happening in Aleppo and Sharran."

The answers came immediately.

"This is important. Check the numbers of Syrian military units around Kaparja Valley."

This time, it took rather long.

"He says there's none within a radius of 10 kilometers."

Crack—

His palm landed on the b*stard in the tobe's head. His neck cracked without a single scream. It was an immediate death.

[1] "Welcome to Qarah Bash."

[2] My friend.

[3] No.