Mercenary Black Mamba

Adam placed both of his hands on the camera plate and lifted his face onto the chin rest. He opened his eyes wide and looked into the mirror ahead.

Clack—

A small sound rang. The infrared camera's zoom lens analyzed the shape, color, and morphology of retinal capillaries and looked for a match in its database.

"Clear, please wait in the respective disinfection room after removing your clothes."

The metal doors opened at the machine's monotonous instruction.

Whoosh—

A powerful air deflector was activated. Once the two passed, the metal doors shut firmly behind them.

"Please wear the provided sterilized uniform after the disinfection."

Adam and Matilda entered the respective disinfection room without a single thread on their body.

Whoosh—

Hot phenol spread out like smoke.

"F***ing son of a b****!"

Adam complained as he held onto his aching rear and private part. Phenol had strong antiseptic properties and a strong odor that irritated the skin's mucous membranes. It was a horrible procedure for Adam, who had skin allergies. It wasn't as though he couldn't understand, but the complicated procedure exacerbated his irritation.

Adam and Matilda, who left the rooms in sterilized uniforms, stood before a tempered glass shield door. Matilda tried to peek inside but couldn't see anything due to the white frosting. She tried tapping the glass with her palm.

The guide tapped Matilda's shoulder and pointed at the ceiling. There were sleeping gas nozzles on the ceiling and walls. It was a warning for them to stop acting strange. Sleeping gas nozzles had to be set up as there were frightening entities inside the double-sealed doors.

The guide worked on the keypad to open the door. Cold air rushed out from the space within, enough to freeze their faces. There were lines of cylindrical water tanks inside. It was a biological research lab commonly seen in Hollywood science-fiction movies.

Adam wandered around the small and large creatures knee-deep in liquid. The liquid was divided into five categories according to their colors. The liquid in the embryonic tanks was colorless, and the liquid in the adult tanks was red. Although embryos weren't indicated, the subjects changed significantly from the third row of tanks onward. They were humans and primates.

The MK Ultra project overseen by the CIA progressed in three parts. The first was a human-type, whereby gorilla or chimpanzee genes were inserted into a human embryo. The second was a Grendel-type, whereby human genes were inserted into a gorilla embryo, and the last one was an ultrasoldier-type, whereby artificial muscles were attached. That was a place of cultivation for human and Grendel types.

Even Adam and Matilda, who were at security level one, couldn't access anywhere beyond the two entrance sectors. They didn't know how many labs there were in the underground facility or how many experiments had taken place.

"Are there any ripe human-types?"

"Two are ripe."

The expression "ripe" referred to the stage when an experiment subject could remain outside of a cell division equipment for an extended amount of time.

The guide led them to an isolated room with several layers of walls. It was warm, unlike the disinfection rooms. Matilda pressed her face against the water tank. The black man inside the water tank opened his eyes.

Gwooo—

A great low-frequency howling escaped the man's mouth. The liquid swirled, and the reinforced glass vibrated.

"Don't approach them. They aren't tamed yet."

"Amazing. What is their battle capacity?"

"The test isn't complete yet. We're assuming that their speed and strength is 20 MF. They should be able to tear apart a gorilla or lion. The ELF can also disarm an opponent."

"Ha, it's the true birth of a neohuman. When can you distribute them?"

"They need at least six months considering the acclimatization period and EEG synchronization transmitter manufacturing period. If you need a bomb to go on a rampage, I'll give one to you right now."

Adam grew offended. The C3-1 guide b*stard was definitely the C3 area's manager and research leader. It seemed as though a weakling, who spends the whole typing away on a keyboard, was trying to one-up him.

"I refuse. A weapon that can't tell apart a friend from a foe is better off unutilized. I don't want to be eaten alive after all. How smart are they?"

"They should be at the level of a primary schooler."

"Hmm, their level is no more or less than that of a hitman."

Despite his bored tone, Adam was quite satisfied. Those subjects would become hitmen anyway. If a half-human, half-animal chimera came to possess an intelligent brain, controlling them would become difficult. A weapon that couldn't be properly controlled was useless no matter how good they were.

"Have you given up on the Grendel?"

"That's something the director has decided."

"Well, the specs aren't right for our company's usage. There won't be any greater chaos than the appearance of a super gorilla in a populated area."

"The MK Ultra project has only just begun. Once the genome is analyzed, we can connect the broken chains to the abnormalities of their immune system. There will soon be a true human weapon. Even primary schoolers know that the first airplane flew 37 meters in 12 seconds.

This b*stard's really stingy.

Adam turned his feet around. The mechanism of the Ultra Humans' creation was a secret. Although there were rumors about them using alien substances, that wasn't his concern. No one bought a car just to understand its inner workings. Driving it well was a greater concern than understanding its structure.

"Adam, it's been some time."

A thin 60-year-old man greeted Adam. The room was as bare as the man's pale face. There were only tables and bookshelves in the room. There wasn't a single decorative miniature on the table either.

The president's attorney general, Henry Davis, was the Socrates Project's head overseer. He was the true man in power under the Reagan administration. Even the director of the CIA was wrapped around his little finger.

"Yes, how are you, Davis?"

Adam sighed in relief. The head overseer was three years his senior at Princeton University. When Davis called him by his name instead of honorifics, it meant that he regarded him as a lowerclassman at that moment.

"What's the status of the Nicaragua Contra support?"

His first question was about Nicaragua. The thorn in the flesh for the Reagan administration was Ortega of Nicaragua. In 1979, the Sandinista National Liberation Front (FSLN), which was led by the pro-Russian Ortega, managed to overthrow the pro-American Somoza family's dictatorship of 46 years. Although the U.S. wasn't happy about the pro-Russian faction who had established themselves under their nose, there wasn't enough cause to interfere in another country's internal affairs. To overthrow the Ortega government, the CIA was planning to organize a rebel group called the Contra.

"I only follow your orders, Special Operations Director."

Davis' eyes narrowed at his blunt reply. Realizing his mistake, Adam quickly added, "I've prepared a training base in Honduras. Currently, we have around 10,000 members. We've been distributing manuals on the tactics of freedom fighters and psychological strategies of guerrilla wars. Currently, 20 agents are undergoing intense psychological warfare training. The problem is that there are only negative responses from the Nicaragua people."

The citizens of Nicaragua, who were tired of the Somoza dictatorship, were extremely supportive of the left party's Sandinista government led by Ortega. The Contra rebels who supported Somoza found it hard to set foot in the country. At his wit's end, Adam started a secret operation of Contra-related activities in Honduras forest.

"As you well know, leaving the Sandinista government alone will lead to communism in Central America. America isn't generous enough to let a b*stard aim a gun at their head. The stupid Nicaraguans are blindsided by Ortega's honeyed words. America's mission is to get them back to their senses."

"I know that well. I've been using the Honduras government as a shield for the transfer of weapons and funds. There won't be instances where we have to deploy our own forces," Adam said carefully.

Currently, the international community suspected the U.S., but they denied all claims of supporting a rebellion.

"Of course. We've shed too much blood in Vietnam. The Contra freedom fighters should fight their own battles."

"It won't be easy. The Contra freedom fighters aren't right in the head. Civilian terrorism is severe. Explosions, arson, kidnapping, rape, and robbery—one hand isn't enough to keep up with their activities in the local regions. There is an increasing number of protests from international charities and human rights organizations. Secretary of Defense, Weinberg, has also expressed serious concern."

"Ignore that old man. The people who'll have blood on their hands are the government officials and the CIA anyway. It's funny how some gangsters are acting like freedom fighters, but national interest comes first. I'll contact the Minister of Defense. You take care of the Nicaragua Contra operation and get rid of Ortega by all means. My head hurts from dealing with Castro alone."

Adam's eyes twinkled. That meant head overseer Davis was going to support him throughout the plan. The seat of the operations subdirector flickered before his eyes.

"Thank you. I won't disappoint you."

"I've made a mistake this time because of my impatience."

"Are you talking about the Ennedi Plateau?"

"That happened."

"I would have rushed too. No one would have doubted us if we sent in the Grendel to assassinate Ortega. No idiot would charge a gorilla for murder after all," Adam said, scratching Davis' itchy parts.

"You heard from the guide. The cause of the problem is unknown. The last field test went awry. I was going to move the DIA shadows myself but called you instead. You know why, don't you?"

"Thank you. I'll get rid of all their traces."

"Two Grendels were released. Those b*stards are fast like cheetahs and stronger than gorillas. You have to be very wary of their extremely-low frequency attacks. Based on tests, their power extended to 300 meters in range. Take care of them secretly and make sure to retrieve their bodies. Those Lubyanka [1] b*stards are being exceptionally wary nowadays. The Sahara is a place where SIGINT [2] activity is impossible. I can't help you with Imint [3] because of the Lubyanka b*stards too."

"I understand. I'll send out a consultant immediately."

"You're a person with a lot of work to do. Forget about the Cuckoo's Nest. I get sad watching you all droopy."

Davis made a regretful face comparable to the expression of a poor man who couldn't afford a cake for his beloved's birthday. Adam flinched. Henry Davis was cold-blooded like a serpent. That expression was to warn him that if he failed once more, his head would fly.

"Thank you for your concern. I'll start the operation immediately."

"Adam, politicians are born complex people. The forest is important. A few trees don't matter. All you need to do is make me believe that you handled a great project without any problem."

Davis smiled. Adam felt goosebumps on the back of his neck.

"Whew!"

Adam let out a sigh of relief after escaping the tiger's den. Davis seemed willing to change seats as long as the project wrapped up nicely. Of course, if he failed, his current chair would disappear.

"Matilda, is there a Hercules at the Riyadh Air Base?"

"There's two. We can move one immediately."

"And the number of special forces we can deploy to Chad?"

"The Eisenhower ship is currently sailing to Somalia from Aden. There are two Navy SEAL teams on board," Matilda replied immediately.

She always provided the necessary information, even in unpredictable times. That was the reason why Adam trusted Matilda and kept her close. Her memory could store information better than a computer. "I'll check the papers" or "I'll have to confirm"—she never used such excuses.

The Navy SEALs were made up of teams of 16 to 26 people. He could arm two teams with heavy weapons and shoot them down from the sky at the Lakes of Ounianga. Bullets were useless against the Grendel. A parabellum bullet would unlikely scratch their hide. Machine guns and direct bombs would be more effective weapons. But what about public opinion? Adam felt his head spin quickly.

Although history said that there's no such thing as coincidences, the clash between the CIA and Black Mamba was a result of coincidence. The Grendels went mad because their brain waves were affected by the interference of Black Mamba's resonance waves. The unstable brain wave interference device and transmitter manufactured in Area 51 were useless.

There were two reasons why the caravans had approached Lake Teli. Firstly, the large dune used as cover by a survivor had shifted. Secondly, the scouting team led by Lieutenant Pellpeng had crushed most of the low-frequency rotor generators with their large trucks. It was all a coincidence.

The fact that Adam would encounter Black Mamba, who had threatened his position with the natural disaster in Kaparja Valley, was also an unfortunate coincidence.

It was barely 40 kilometers from Navar to Serir lakes. The Jeep passed the sediment region, and soon, the Serir lakes came into sight.

"There are no villages or caravans. Did you purposefully ask for uninhabited land?"

"Although that wasn't exactly my wish, it's true that I wanted an isolated land. I had to consider cultural conflicts and public opinion. I wanted the Bodélé Depression, but there was a possibility of Libya interfering, and Habré didn't seem to like the idea," Black Mamba replied honestly to Professor Shernion's question.

"Ha, you looked at the forest and didn't lose sight of a high-quality tree. I feel like you're not a romantic philanthropist in your twenties but a 70-year-old politician."

"I'm not a romantic philanthropist but a selfish person. Wait, Ahmad, turn off the engine."

The Jeep stopped at a point five kilometers away from the destination. When the Jeep's engine grew silent, the sounds of the desert could be heard—the sound of the wind, sand, insects digging into the ground, and the seeds crying because the ground suffocated them.

Black Mamba stopped breathing and concentrated. The wind carried the stale smell of blood and water. His sight was limited, as it was quite a distance for his dimensional sight.

[1] A nickname for the KGB.

[2] Intelligence-gathering by interception of signals.

[3] Video information.