Mercenary Black Mamba

******

"I made a mistake! I should have brought the jeep instead."

Mohammad flopped down on the dirt-ground in the shape of pickled cabbage. Matanga also rolled his eyes around with a troubled face. Matanga is Ahmad's disciple and the candidate Nova Chevalier. His martial arts skill was excellent enough for Ombuti to send him as Mohammad's bodyguard.

To get to Mambasa from Novatopia, you have to get off at Bucav Airfield or Kisangani Airfield and pass through the jungle. Bucav Airfield is closer to Mambasa, but the access route through the Great Lift Valley was in poor condition.

The jungle full of wild animals and poisonous insects wasn't the best, either, if you were to encounter a guerrilla, you are likely to be robbed. As the next best option, he chose Kisangani Airport, where he can take the 4th North Airway. Vehicle was the problem, though. He searched all over the city of Kisangani, but no one came forward to go to Mambasa. The notoriety of rebel guerrillas in the west coast of Lake Albert was well known in Kisangani.

"Director! Let's get something to drink."

Matanga took the coconut out of the backpack.

"Hey, call me Bwana (Sir)! I'm a Cassavan dealer."

"I'm sorry, Bwana. Shall we snatch a vehicle?"

"You idiot, did you forget the teachings of Dubaiburupa? Do you want to be a life-time management officer of the windbreak forest?"

"Oops, I'm sorry."

Frightened, Matanga bowed his head. In Novatopia, the reckless exercise of power and actions of power trip are enough for heavy penalty.

"Say we will give 500 francs. If we give them ten times, someone must come forward."

"Yessir!"

Startled Matanga set out to arrange a vehicle.

'Is this dude a fraud?'

Mohammed looked at the driver with suspicious eyes. A Congolese man in his 40s with a broad nose did not seem trustworthy. The vehicle was even less trustworthy. A Ford Cortina, twenty years after since discontinued, had only two doors. It's too old to run 500 kilometers through a messy jungle. Neither the person nor the vehicle seemed reliable, but there was no other way. It's about the Lord's woman. He was in a hurry.

The 4th North Airway was lawless. There were guerrillas, who blocked roads every few dozen kilometers, pressed them in the chest with guns and demanded tolls. When possible, money solved it, but Matanga solved ones who turned into a robber. with a knife.

The power of money and knives was mighty. The nervous Congolese driver demonstrated superhuman strength of running through 500 kilometers in 20 hours. There were dozens of problems along the way, but the driver who was a master of maintenance, and the powerful Matanga, easily solved it.

"Bwana! (SIr!), after passing the sugar cane field, you will find a big village. I'll leave you be now."

The driver started to run offl. It has been a week since Helen escaped the Green Zone and Hae Young was imprisoned. The atmosphere was bound to be chaotic.

"Hey, I'll give you another 500 francs."

"Bwana, I have two wives and twelve children. I don't even know the way around this place. Spare me."

The driver begged with a pale face.

"Guess there's no other way!"

Mohammad nodded. It's a difficult situation, but he couldn't force a person who didn't want to go. The driver turned his car around as if he was being chased.

"Oh, it's a mess. What the hell happened?"

The lush sugarcane fields were a mess as if a herd of elephants had attacked.

"Director, it's a trace of an orbital vehicle. The situation seems serious."

Matanga clenched a machete in his hand.

"Let's stop by the town, for now."

As they left the sugar cane field, they saw a unique housing style used in East Africa, which was built by connecting tin plated roofs together. Matanga pressed Mohammad's back and ducked down flat. Bang bang bang - gunshots echoed in the village. Dozens of Africans with guns rushed out of town. Tutututu- The deep sound of heavy machine gun fire shook the atmosphere. It wasn't just one or two.

"Argh!"

"Delatoon!"

Africans believed to be guerrillas fled frantically towards the direction of Irumu. Gunfire and explosions began to be heard again in the direction of their disappearance. A faint scream was heard.

Vroooom- In the village, three Humvees equiped with heavy machine guns popped out. Heavy armed soldiers wearing camouflage combat uniforms and full-face helmets were on board. Humvees rose up clouds of dust and disappeared.

Mohammad felt the situation was alarming. Yes, it was a mess on the way here, but the whole area of Mambasa was covered with the smell of gunpowder. Chad is a mess, but so is Zaire. Mohammad and Matanga, who were holding their breath, headed to the village.

"It's a total disaster. Why the U.S. military?"

The village was littered with corpses. Most of them appeared to be guerrillas, but bodies of women, elderly people, and children were also seen occasionally. Humvees and spotted camouflage combat uniforms are symbols of the U.S. military. Although the U.S. military was such a turn-off, but they don't kill civilians recklessly.

"Yahili! (Big trouble!) "Yahili!"

They heard a piercing shriek. An African young man was holding a woman whose legs were stained with blood and struggling to stop the bleeding with dirty clothes.

"Hey, if you get tetanus, it's more dangerous than a gunshot wound."

"Who are you?"

As Mohammad approached, the young man was on high alert.

"Matanga, give them first aid!"

"Get out of the way, stupid!"

Matanga pushed the young man out of his way and took out a first aid kit from his backpack. Morphine was injected, disinfectant and anti-hemorrhagic agent were sprayed on the wound, then he tightly wrapped the wound with a compression bandage. The bleeding stopped, as well as the screaming. When the woman returned stable, the young man came to his senses.

"Bwana, thank you for treating my mother. I was frightened because I thought you two were a bad bunch. My name is Ongore."

The young man was logical and calm in his words as if he had been educated.

"Ongore, what's happened here?"

"The guys who ran away are Hutu guerrillas. These are Rwandans who dig up gold from Ngpangwaza."

"The Rwandan rebels run gold mines on Congo land?"

Mohammad blamed his poor knowledge. The Northeastern Congo, from Lake Kivu to Lake Albert, including Congo, Rwanda, and Uganda border areas are anarchic violence spaces where various armed groups called militias and liberation forces and such, exercise practical power.

However, he didn't know that guerrillas would openly run gold mines in other countries. He had only the intelligence director title, but knew nothing really. It was understandable that the governor wanted him to face it in person.

"The guy with the gun is the owner in Mambasa. The Mobutu army is too far away. The Yankees and the guerrillas are turning it all upside down to find some blonde woman."

The young man was pleasant.

"Are the soldiers on Humvees American soldiers?"

"Yes sir, it's the Yankee army that built the base here."

"If they wanted to fight, they should fight with their own people. Why did they shoot the villagers?"

Mohammad's eyes rested on the woman's legs.

"If a big-nosed elephant and a big-teethed elephant fought, which one will die?"

The young man asked back with a dejected look. Mohammad was puzzled by the young man's random question.

"I assume the strong one will win."

"All the ants crawling under their feet die."

"Tsk!"

Mohammad kicked his tongue. It was no different than Chad and Zaire. He couldn't protest the gunman taking out his anger, and there was no place to report it.

"Why are they looking for a blonde woman?"

"The woman fled the U.S. military camp with a treasure map marked with a large gold mine."

"Haha, a treasure map!"

Mohammad couldn't repress his laughter. A treasure map. They were not even in the 19th century, and there was no reason for the U.S. military to track down a woman for such a thing. It means there's something hidden. He was not interested in the treasure map, but he worried about the blonde woman the young man mentioned.

"Did the blonde woman come to town?"

"She was. I don't know if she was the one the U.S. military and guerrillas are looking for, but last night, a blonde-haired white woman and three white men came and bought cornmeal and water. The Rwandans and the Yankees, who had been chasing her, collided in the village. That's how this happened. All three of my brothers are dead, too. Only my mother and I survived."

The young man rambled as if he were talking about someone else.

"Hm, that's a shame. Do battles occur frequently?"

"No, all sorts of guerillas ran wild, but there wasn't much conflict. A few days ago, Yankees suddenly roamed around in groups, and the sound of gunfire began to be heard."

"The situation is worse than I thought, Matanga. What should we do?"

Mohammad looked back at Matanga. It is easy to get a nosebleed if you wander around in the lawlessness. Ssamdi wouldn't blink an eye, but Matanga and himself are like ants who are trampled to death by elephant fights, as the young man said.

"Bwana! There's nothing more unfair about being hit by a blind bullet."

Matanga did not want to end up as a lizard stomped on by a military boot, in a land that was not even his beloved homeland.

"We'll just check the U.S. camp and flee."

Mohammad nodded his head. The situation is beyond his ability. Reports to the governor and the Lord come first.

"What are you going to do with the patient?"

"There are many people killed and injured in the village, too. It can't be helped."

The young man sighed.

"Tsk tsk!"

Mohammad pitied Ongore. If he had not been lucky enough to meet his master, he would be living a helpless and miserable life in Syria, like this young man. Or could've been dead.

"This is not a place for people to live. We will leave for Almia Alvarado after my mother's treatment."

Ongore spoke in low spirit.

"Huh? You know of Novatopia?"

Mohammad and Matanga were stunned.

"Yes, I heard about the desert paradise from the Akran peddler. Dubaiburupa that reigns but does not rule, a country dominated by law and justice, a country that pays back for your effort is what I heard. None of the villagers believed it, but I do. You can't talk about that in such detail without actually seeing it. And if there's a hell like this, it's only fair to have a heaven like that."

"Are you seeing this, Matanga? The teachings of the Dubaiburupa is lighting up every corner of this dark world."

Mohammad's face was full with pride.

"Praise be to the great Dubaiburupa."

Matanga bowed three times toward the east where the straw bridge, the sacred place, is located.

"You can't be?"

Ongore's eyes have grown big.

"Yes, we came from Novatopia."

"Ohh, Lord!"

Ongore fell to his knees.

"Bwana, please take pity on my mother and I. I don't want to live a miserable life getting my threatened every day. I want to live like a human being, even for a day."

Mohammad stared at the strong, intelligent-looking young man. The Lord said, "Do as your heart leads you.".

"Is there a sorcerer in the village?"

"Yes, all patients get treated there."

"Good!"

Mohammad nodded. In eastern Africa, sorcerers are doctors. Medical licenses are also issued. Of course, it is limited to a few diseases, but they also performed most surgical treatments.

"Ongore, treat your mother first. I still have work left. I'll consider it on the way back."

"Bwana, thank you. Thank you."

Ongore bowed his head like a long-headed grasshopper.

"Ongore, can you get a vehicle?"

"Kasing has a truck. I will guide you."

Ongore entrusted his injured mother to a sorcerer and led Mohammad to Kasing's house. A typical Kikuyu middle-aged man with a protruding cheekbone and an elongated lower jaw greeted them with an arrogant attitude.

"Are you able to go to Kisangani?"

"Are you crazy? You want to go where bullets are pouring."

Kasing looked at Mohammad as if he were seeing the most insane person. Matanga glared, but Kasing didn't budge.

"Kasing, this is my guest. Please consider!"

Ongore pleaded.

"I don't want to deal with anyone who believes in Almia Alvarado that doesn't even exist, and the lying Dubaiburupa."

Kasing showed his teeth and sneered. In a flash, a fist hit Kasing's face.

"Ow!"

Kasing fell on his back. Even Matanga flinched at the quick fist.

"This ignorant fool dares to laugh at the Dubaiburupa. Bwana, do you have any money?"

"How much do you need?"

Mohammad grinned. He liked Ongore.

"Seven hundred francs is enough for a junk truck."

"Matanga! Give him the money."

Ongore threw a bundle of money at Kasing, who was groaning.

"You don't have any complaints, do you?"

"Damn you! What are you even going to do with a car that doesn't even have gas?"

Kasing grinned and pocketed the money.

"Ongore, do you know the location of the U.S. military camp?"

"Yes, it's in Ngpangwaza, about 30 kilometers from here."

"All right, I'll get you the oil."

Mohammad called for joy. He has an excuse to enter the U.S. military camp. Nova Chevaliers are all dual citizens. It was a desperate measure to maintain close ties with France. If he explained the situation, he could at the least get gas from the U.S. military camp.

******

At the point where the camp entrance was about 100 meters away, a combative iron structure with iron needles longer than a foot, popped up from the ground. The junk truck driven by Matanga came to a sudden stop. Five marines with MP5s jumped out of a concrete structure.

"Get off!"

Four automatic rifle guns tightly aimed at Mohammad's group while two armed soldiers jumped into the truck and searched. Mohammad and Matanga voluntarily handed over the pistol and the machete.

"These shits, they're looking for a fight."

Mohammad muttered in Korean. He thoroughly examined the camp's terrain, defense line and structures. Providing as much information as possible will be helpful for the judgment of the Lord.

"What brings you here?"

The soldier who finished the search asked. Mohammad presented his ID card.

"I'm French. I ran out of gas during the trip. You know, there's only 150 kilometers of gas station to buy gas. Help me. You can't get out of the jungle riding an ocafi."

The Marine picked up the radio.

'If you guys are up to no good, bet you can't wait to get rid of me. Tsk!

Mohammad kicked his tongue. A fuel vehicle came running from the camp. The attempt to spy on the inside of the camp went up in smoke. He came all the way here on purpose, but it was for nothing. The U.S. military filled the fuel tank and filled four 40-liter plastic spare fuel tanks.

"That's enough. I wish you a good trip."

The sergeant returned the pistol and the machete as if to tell them to leave quickly.

"Thank you very much, I will certainly post the kindness of the United States Marine Corps to Le Monde."

"Oh, no, no need. It's insignificant, forget about it."

The sergeant loathed it.

"No, but...…."

"Forgetting is the reward for my kindness. The Bucav side is full of guerrilla. If you want to get on the plane, go to Kisangani."

The Marine sergeant was kind enough to let them know the way. He looked impatient he couldn't quickly get rid of the French man wandering around the camp.

"Thank you, kind soldier. This is a talisman. Good things will happen if you attach it to your helmet."

Mohammad held out a big badge. The badge engraved with the tile-roofed house and a full bowl of rice is a symbol of the Dubaiburupa. The Dubaiburupa said, "Take what you receive and give what you need to give."

Mohammad returned to Novatopia with Ongore and his mother. His path that saved three lives became a trigger for Asura to descend into the Ituri jungle.