Mercenary Black Mamba

Wu Qi, the author of the Warring States period's Wuzi strategy, was a master of performance in modern terms. Wu Qi, who led the soldiers to the battlefield, once sucked pus directly out of the swellings on a soldier's back. Moved, the soldier rushed toward the enemy lines. The soldier died, and Wu Qi became prime minister.

Qu Yuan, the godfather of the Zhou dynasty, was a politician with burning patriotism and high ideals. He couldn't realize his dream because of the foolish monarch and courtiers who sucked up to the powerful Qin dynasty like slaves. After he was dismissed, he threw himself into the Miluo River because he couldn't stand the humiliation and absurdity.

[I got to this point because I was clean while everyone else was dirty, and I was awake while everyone else was drunk.]

Those were words that Qu Yuan left behind. Wu Qi and Qu Yuan's ideals didn't come from the concept of right or wrong but the concept of difference. Their evaluation also varied depending on the perspective of historians of the next generation.

Black Mamba wasn't the soldier whose pus Wu Qi helped remove or Qu Yuan who couldn't hold back his patriotism. He gained what he gained and gave what he gave. The cook sent by Legion Etranger's commander was nothing but a favor. There was no reason for him to be moved, and he wasn't that foolish to be moved.

"I'm reminded of the Devil of Explosions, Jang Shin. His ostrich dish was the finest. That guy's cooking is on the level of McDonald's," Paul lowered his voice and licked his lips.

His face was flooded with longing. Every time day and night transitioned, Black Mamba went out to hunt for his tired and fearful comrades.

With the company of friends sitting around a campfire under the night sky filled with stars and the long howls of unknown animals, the ostrich meat sliced with daggers tasted heavenly and romantic.

Their bleak journey and the cowards they became for hiding under the tarp to cover their flashlights, in case the FROLINAT scouts saw them, was all forgotten by the time the ostrich meat was cooked. Memories were easily reconstructed and glorified as good ones. That, too, was the secret of evolution.

"Scorpions and beetles used to turn into Michelin meals in his hands. If Jang Shin hears you comparing his food to McDonald's, he'll come after your head with a cleaver[1]." Black mamba agreed.

The reason why friends were comfortable was that they shared many things in common.

A cook was someone who killed 1,000,000s for the happiness of 1,000,000s. What if a lady had to personally kill a fish to make the hui that she liked? What if a man had to kill the pig himself because he enjoyed pork belly chops? They'd rather give up the raw fish and pork belly. A cook was naturally a respectable profession.

"What's the point of having a cook? At best, he'll cook B-rations with 1,000s of preservatives anyway. I miss the oilless barbeque," Paul complained and glanced at Black Mamba.

Raw meat would spoil within a day due to the humid weather. They couldn't carry around a refrigerator in their car, could they?

"Sir, Butembo is a large city. We can buy beef at the butcher's shop," Ulumbo interfered.

"What's the population like in Butembo?"

"There should be over 2,000 people. There are stores that sell all kinds of things, blacksmiths, and even spellcasters who cure your illnesses."

"How far is it from here?"

"About 30 kilometers."

"Dude, how can we go back and forth 30 kilometers when it's nearing nighttime?" Paul complained, discouraged.

Africa's 30 kilometers was farther than France's 300 kilometers. Although he wanted to feed his subordinates with fresh meat, there was no way. Actually, the world's best hunter was here. All they needed was for Black Mamba to move.

That guy's a real bragger.

Black Mamba, who was listening in to Paul and the guide's conversation, sighed. The fact that Ulumbo graduated from a French university was a lie. Someone who lived in Paris wouldn't mention spellcasters and call a small village a large one. In the Sahel, he felt comfortable because he had the talented and loyal Ombuti. He pitied himself because he had to trust a guide he barely knew and infiltrate Ituri.

"Captain, we need some fresh ingredients," Paul finally opened his mouth after several looks.

"What are you saying? Paul, you're the captain?" Black Mamba looked at Paul in confusion.

"The captain of this operation is Black Mamba. I am a lackey. You order, and I move. Kekeke!"

Paul mimicked what Black Mamba said in the past and laughed.

"Stop joking around! Once a captain, always a captain."

Paul was a talented commander before a friend. There was no reason for him to interfere. Paul did well on his own.

"Ola? You want to show off your skills?"

"If you want these many people to eat, I'll have to catch something the size of an okapi or mountain gorilla."

"Both are protected species. UNESCO and animal rights organizations will shove you in an oven."

"F***, are animals the problem when someone's about to starve to death?"

"Of course. There are 1,000,000s of humans but only 1,000 okapis and gorillas. Rare things must be treated well. That's why you're treated well. You caught an ostrich and addax in the desert, so the forest will be a piece of cake for you. Bring us something big, please?"

Although Paul had dozens of subordinates, he asked Black Mamba instead because he was afraid. There were too many poisonous insects and snakes in the equatorial rainforest. The only person who could ignore all those threats was Black Mamba. Also, he was a natural hunter.

Not everyone could hunt just because they could use a gun and shoot well. Wild animals were unnoticeable to the human eye. Hunters weren't people skilled at using guns but those with a good sense and knowledge of nature and animals. Black Mamba was the best hunter in the world, in that sense.

"Well, I can't ignore a friend's request when the requests of dying people are heard. Let's go."

Black Mamba picked up an MP5 and stood up.

"I'll be witnessing your skills for the first time in a long while. Mountain hogs are the best for barbecues, though."

Paul followed. Samedi followed closely like a shadow with two mercenaries and two intelligence agents behind him. The forest didn't welcome foreigners as much as the desert. Sensing a foreign presence, the colobus monkeys howled, and the parrots flew away.

There were more than 30 support team members. Small animals wouldn't satisfy anyone. Black Mamba activated his senses.

Amazing!

The endless green world pressed on him like weights. The desert was empty, and the forest was empty in its own way. The forest was quiet, but he could detect countless movements. He could hear a large stag beetle crawling on the bark of a pachira, a snake flicking its tongue in a thicket, a chimpanzee hiding in a huge giant heather branch, a gorilla lurking and disappearing into a bush, and a crocodile flashing its sneaky eyes at the edge of the swamp—the forest creatures invaded by strangers moved busily.

The arboreous area at the entrance of Rwenzori was a swampy area with bushes and trees. The density of its trees wasn't very high. The forest's swamps and native vegetation made it difficult to walk through.

The dense shrubs and vines blocked his view and held his feet back. Arboreous areas were more difficult to pass through than shrublands. Samedi cleared the path by swinging the machetes in both hands like a windmill.

Samedi, who was leading the group, pointed at the giant cycads surrounding a huge limbali. Black Mamba nodded. Paul squinted his eyes but saw nothing. Black Mamba opened his palm and pressed down twice. It was a signal to conceal themselves and maintain covert activities. The mercenaries lowered their bodies immediately.

Samedi approached the bush in a strange manner, his feet drawing semicircles. The moment he stepped on a dead tree and leaped, a large animal jumped out from behind the heap of cycads. The animal, which gave up hiding, sprinted toward the swamp. It wasn't that agile, but it wasn't comparable to a human. Samedi threw his body into the bush without even looking at the running animal.

"Damn!" Black Mamba clicked his tongue.

Unstable ki remained in the bushes. It was the animal's offspring. The mother revealed itself to distract him. A predator's hunting instinct was to target the offspring or weak animals. Samedi's hunting instinct took precedence over his rational judgment.

"I'll catch it."

Black Mamba shot out like a bullet without a sound. His body slid smoothly on the dense thorny bushes and trees like a snake with its head raised.

"The real black mambas will cry!" Paul exclaimed.

His friend had changed again. Due to body structure, humans couldn't run and maintain a 20-degree angle to the ground. The joints connecting his head, back, hips, and legs had exceeded the limit of flexion.

He didn't intend to fight the beast for long.

Whoosh whoosh—

Sharp impact noises rang. The two darts that left his hand landed on the butt of the animal 30 meters ahead.

Keeeee—

A woeful scream was heard.

The animal ran faster after it got hit. His attempt to slow it down failed. The animal was strong. It leaped every time he picked up the pace.

Splash—

Water splashed.

"Huh!"

He didn't know there was a swamp right before the beast. He couldn't have known as it was covered with leaves and plants just like the ground. He heard most swamps in Rwenzori and Ituri were like that. The animal lowered its body into the swamp and left only its nose out.

"Putain, we lost it." Paul clicked his tongue once he caught up.

The swamps of Africa's forests were crawling with crocodiles, venomous snakes, parasites, and poisonous insects. He didn't dare enter.

"I'll get it right away." The mercenary who appeared behind him broke out into a sprint.

That was the typical mercenary behavior, simple ignorance.

"You idiot!"

Paul grabbed his subordinate by the neck.

"Poty, have you lost your mind? This is a swamp, not the clear lakes of the Pyrenees mountains."

The mercenary, who got reprimanded, stared blankly at the eerie swamp covered with green algae and bubbles.

"Wakil! I'm sorry."

Samedi arrived a while later, scratching his head. The animal dangling by the neck in his hand was slightly bigger than a rabbit. Samedi had no excuses. He didn't know why he went after the offspring when there was a large animal before him.

"It's nothing to be sorry about. I guess there's nothing I can do since the offspring is already dead."

He planned to let the mother go if the offspring was still alive, but it was too late. He took out the army rope that Emil gifted him from the pocket of his uniform.

"That place isn't a safe hiding spot for you either. I'm sorry."

Whoosh—

The dart at the end of the rope flickered under the setting sun.

Splash—

The moment the dart entered the swamp, Black Mamba twisted his wrist.

Crack crack—

Following the movement of his wrist, the rope wrapped itself around the animal's neck several times.

Keeeegh—

When he pulled on the rope, the animal resisted, unwilling to be pulled out. The tug of war ended in a flash. When Black Mamba flicked his wrist, the animal flew in the air and landed right before Black Mamba's foot. The animal basically soared out of the water with the Thousand Wide Steps and crossed the air with the Eight Footed Wise Steps before descending on land.

The animal died without a single sound. Its spine shattered from the immense strength, and its airway was restricted. The thin rope wrapped around the animal's neck disappeared into Black Mamba's hand.

"It's magic!"

Paul seemed indifferent, but the four support team members were in awe. They looked just like the children who followed Pied Piper.

Paul said nothing about the monstrous shovel that Samedi swung and the rope that Black Mamba used. One would turn mad trying to understand things that they couldn't understand.

"What is this animal?" Paul tilted his head.

The animal dragged out of the swamp was huge and easily weighed over 100 kilograms. It had horns and long parted hooves. Its head looked like a goat's, but its hooves looked like a cow's.

"Is it a bushbuck?" Black Mamba asked as though he knew.

"No. It may look like it, but bushbucks are smaller."

"Everything turns into poop once it enters your stomach, bushbuck or not."

"Kehehe, Samedi, you're smart." Black Mamba laughed.

That thing was going to enter their stomachs anyway. There was no need to find out its name. That was just a social instinct acquired from complex modern society. The thing that Black Mamba caught was a Sitatunga. Sitatungas lived in Africa's eastern swamps. It's similar to bushbucks but one circumference bigger.

"Do you need more?"

"I think we won't have enough."

Black Mamba calculated the meat's weight instantly and snapped.

"Are you a pig? Eat less!"

When slaughtering Korean cattle, the average carcass weight compared to its live weight was around 64 percent. The rest were the head, intestines, hooves, and leather. The carcass weight, excluding the bone, tail, and fat, was around 70 percent. This meant that meat made up 45 percent of its live weight. Pigs had a thick fat layer and shorter legs, so they had a high meat ratio of around 52 percent.

Swamp animals had a similar meat ratio. The meat obtained from a 100-kilogram sitatunga was 45 kilograms. 40 healthy men could manage on 45 kilograms of meat.

An intelligence agent cut down the trees and bushes needed for the fire. Two mercenaries tied the feet of the sitatunga, slid it through a branch, and hoisted it onto their shoulders.

"Samedi, are you confused?"

Black Mamba's voice was soft, unlike his usual self.

"Master, no, wakil, why did I do such a stupid thing?"

"Don't mind it too much. Your hunting instinct briefly overcame your rational judgment. Predators instinctively go after offsprings or the weakest of the pack. They don't even consider the strong and heavily built target even if it's right next to them."

"Does that mean I'm a man-beast?" Samedi mumbled, sounding dejected.

[1] A Chinese cooking knife with a rectangular blade.