Mercenary Black Mamba

Chapter 61: Chpter 10, Episode 4: The Shadow of Betrayal

Beep- Beep- Beep-

A high-toned sound echoed around the valley. As if to receive the sound in return, beeping sounds rose from all over the place. It was the familiar, cheap sound of the FROLINAT’s headsets.

Although they used cheap wind instruments as a method of communication, it was enough to alert others of a sniper’s presence. His targets, which had been out in the open, disappeared immediately.

“That f****** silencer!”

Black Mamba clicked his tongue.

Too many targets had gone into hiding while he was shooting down the missile teams. The remaining Strela Team similarly went undercover.

In the end, the useless silencer had mucked it up.

A Dragunov had 105db in a gunshot. With a silencer, the sound went down to 70db. The suppressed sound increased in 10db with every noise it made.

Average conversations were around 60db, and 70db was around ten times louder than the average conversation. It was approximately the sound of a 10-year reunion conversation between ten students. Unless the guerrillas were deaf, it was impossible that they couldn’t have heard his gunshots.

Even Black Mamba didn’t have a way of suppressing sonic booms.

Clack!

Although there were three bullets remaining, he clicked in another cartridge without hesitation. Since they had all gone into hiding, he had no choice but to search for them.

He opened his headset.

– Black here. I avenged the Gazelle.

– What are you planning to do?

– Do you think they’ll retreat with just the helicopter down?

– Hm.

The Captain couldn’t continue. How could he ask him to go against 120 by his lonesome as the leader, while the team stood down!

– I’m going to catch rats. Have everyone standby.

– They’re not normal. Be careful.

– Badger meat is thick. Whoever tries to bite it will have their teeth broken off.

– I’m sorry.

– Nevermind that; if anything happens to Chartres you’re dead.

Turning off the headset, the Captain sighed.

‘Bastard, to think he’d threaten a leading officer when he’s just a 2nd class Private! Fine, I’ll take it gladly as long as you end this safely.’

The environment was harsh for him to lead his team members into battle, especially when they were at their lowest. The terrain demanded a strenuous rock mountain battle. Considering the enemies’ movements, they weren’t weak guerrillas.

Rock mountains offered much cover and concealment. It was hard for the sniper to gain a target and to land a clean shot. Every condition was against them. According to Black Mamba’s report, there were 120 bastards. If the Ratel team attacked rashly, they were bound to be annihilated.

“Captain, are we going to keep our heads under the sand?” Mike, with his anger issues, began to whisper.

“And if we don’t?”

“We need to wipe them out.”

The team’s eyes glinted red.

“Mike, mind your own head. There are over a hundred footsoldiers who know the geography. Leave it to Black and go back to your corner.” The words were sharp, unlike sergeant Paul’s usual speech.

“Can Black handle it?” Miguel asked worriedly.

“He would need to enter close combat anyway since this is a rocky region. Black moves without a trace, without sound. Black’s close-combat abilities are beyond his skills as a sniper. There’s no point in our intervention; we’d only hinder his senses.”

Emil was the one to reply. As Black Mamba’s partner, there was no one who knew Black Mamba better than he.

“He’s right. It’s my misjudgment. I didn’t realize the bastards would flood this place. It seems like Habib’s over his head. There’s no way but to trust Black as of now.”

At the leader’s decision, everyone lowered their heads.

He was called Azrael, but Black Mamba was the youngest of the team. Placed in a situation where they all stuck their heads under while the youngest stood against several opponents, they couldn’t withstand the humiliation.

The military force which had entered Er Ekdim was Habib’s personal army and sentry led by Payze. They were the most elite forces of the FAP, having been trained by the dispatched North Korean trainers.

If there had been more time Habib would have mobilized his entire northern army. The Captain had been surprised at the number, but the truth was that Habib had only been able to mobilize a tenth of his desired number.

Habib, who didn’t know Black Mamba’s existence, had only mobilized his immediate personal anti-air team and Payze’s sentries. For Black Mamba, this was a fortunate event.

Lieutenant Commander Payze was the commander of the reconnaissance team.

He had been tracking the pick up headed towards Ekiya under Ahmud’s orders but had failed. It was because Mike, as a veteran, had lured them to Ekiya only to turn back and head towards the helicopter’s meeting point. In some ways, Payze had been lucky. He had not run into Black Mamba.

Watching Ahmud’s purging Payze had sworn this battle to life or death. In observance of Habib’s personality, if he won he was loyal, and if he lost he would be purged. Payze was determined to bury his bones in the valley.

Black Mamba shoved his Dragunov underneath a rock.

With the silencer on the Dragunov, the weapon was almost two meters long. Although it could be used for close combat, it was bothersome to carry.

“That damned sound, I should change it into a MP or something,” he complained as he twisted the silencer around his Pamus.

Even the Pamus had a problem with its silencer. The sound of a Pamus’s bullet speed was 2.5 times to speed of sound. Even if the silencer sustained the explosion, the problem was the sonic boom.

The sonic boom was the sound of air exploding around an escaping bullet from its muzzle. Even silencers had their limits. The sound of a small explosion wasn’t insignificant during night battles.

A MP5 had a subsonic bullet. It’s sonic boom was far weaker.

As Black Mamba required covert activities, the MP5 was more advantageous than the Pamus.

The MP5, at 668mm in parts, was also easy to carry around. Black Mamba was a sniper of a different class who didn’t refuse close-combat.

Although the range had decreased 200 meters and there was an additional loss of precision, it wasn’t much of a problem. For long-range he had the Dragunov, and the precision was something he could cover with his physicals and senses.

A talented carpenter didn’t mind his tools, but a talented mercenary nitpicked each weapon. A carpenter didn’t have a risk of death even if the wood was sawed with a dull blade. On the other hand, if a mercenary used a low-quality weapon or a weapon unsuited for it, death was a high possibility.

Black Mamba took out the Dragunov’s magazine from the duty pouch. He shoved in five 30-bullet magazines and three 17-bullet Glocks into the pouch.

Checking his Kukri in his leg stripe attached to the belt, he unlocked the safety of his Glock on the other holster. Finally, he checked the Glock which was on his calf.

Close combat was an entirely different matter from sniping.

He could feel several flows. There were different flows of air that climbed up and down the surface of the cliff: the flows of the living creatures’ breath, the flow of the guerrillas’ bloodlust, and the hide-and-seek between the animals climbing the cliffside with the lizards which peeked in and out of crevices.

Black Mamba began to erase each one of nature’s flow and nature’s energy one by one. Now, there were only 70 presences left in his range. The counted enemy was 120. He had cleared 15, and there were 105 remaining. That meant 35 was outside of his sensing range.

His first target was the Strela team of five who he hadn’t been able to catch with his Dragunov. They were those who had been specially trained. They were the highest threat against his team.

Click!

A small sound rang from his first target’s position. It was the sound of a twisting safety pin of a handgun. The sound had been smaller than the sound of water dripping, but it sounded like a thunderclap in his ears. The distance was 180 meters, closer than he thought.

Black Mamba, under the cover of his camouflage, angled his body around the rock towards the enemy. The sight of him hugging the rock as he turned resembled a lizard.

The Er Ekdim valley of Tanga was used as the FROLINAT’s training grounds. It was like their front yard.

The trench in which Black Mamba targeted was made of naturally weathered conglomerate blocked on three sides. Five soldiers were nervously staring at the darkness. It was Air Defence Team 3 of FROLINAT’s 3rd Guard.

“Stupid idiot, weren’t you taught to cover the safety pin with your clothes before you turn it?”

A tall Slavic man began to scold the Arab in a whisper. It was the Northern FAP’s unconventional warfare officer Rubnenco.

Rubnenco, a white Russian, began as a Yadboy, or a conscript, and rose through the ranks to become a Spetznatz deployed as First Lieutenant Sceda.

“‘Adiran, ‘adiran!”

The Arab who had been scolded nodded away.

“Shh!”

Rubnenco immediately reached for his night goggles and listened.

He could hear a sound similar to a puppy’s sneeze. It was the sound which rang when a cough was suppressed as much as possible. It was such a small sound that even Rubnenco, with his high senses, barely caught it.

The sound of Jang Shin’s cough, which Bell Man had suppressed with sleeping pills, had been caught on Rubnenco’s radar. The small sound had brought about a crisis.

An eerie smile appeared on the Slav’s face.

“Shoot, right 170m…the rock which looks like an upside-down triangle is a target.”

The supporting sniper, a gandourah-wearing Arab, immediately began to load his RPG shooter. Rubnenco took off his night goggles and handed it to the RPG shooter. The shooter marked his aim and shoved his eye into the scope.

A bloodthirsty smile appeared on Black Mamba’s face.

The place which the bastard was aiming with his magic wand was the place his comrades were hiding. He found it humorous that a person who was already being trailed by death was attempting to kill someone else.

The sparrow ate the mantis, which was after the grasshopper.

Splat!

The shooter who had been readying his stance to launch the RPG suddenly collapsed without a sound.

“Uk!”

At that moment, Rubnenco flung his body within the trench as though he was diving. It was a fast reflex; even Black Mamba was surprised.

“Hey, hurry up and shoot.”

The junior staff shook his friend’s shoulder, ignorant of what had happened.

“осторожный, снайперская стрельба! (Careful, sniper shoot!)”

Rubnenco whisked the junior staff’s leg down. Rubnenco had already plastered himself onto the ground, but it was too late.

Pat pat pat!

The angel of death raised its dark brush and crossed four names of the Lumumba tribe’s men off the list. The Strela’s junior staff and its two guards crashed into the ground.

To those who had just finished preparations, the attack was lightning on a clear day. They hadn’t been able to shoot even once. That was the fearsome aspect of snipers.

“It’s the bastard!”

Officer Rubnenco felt chills going down his back. He unknowingly rubbed the top of his head. A new line had appeared across his hair. The smell of hair burning reached his nose. It was the mark of a bullet which had just brushed his head. It was truly a minimal chance. He had lived due to his innate ability to sense danger.

The bastard, Rubnenco, suddenly recalled the rumor which floated around Sahel like a spell. The bastard who could shoot an eyeball 1km away, annihilate a mere company in a minute, throw a rock and blow up a person’s head 300 meters away, who enjoyed slicing the neck, and who drank the commander’s liver as a side dish…the bastard of all those rumors had shown up. And he had shown that the rumors were true with the three-in-a-row sniping.

Immediate sniping and continuous sniping was a skill told as legends in the sniping world. There was an instance in which instant shots within three seconds was proved a white death by Poland’s Simo Hayha.

The continuous sniping using the gun’s throwback known as double-tap was left an untouched region in their world. He had studied, in the Spetznatz skills the method behind continuous and instant sniping for ten years. In the end, he had concluded that it was an impossible feat for the human body.

Rubnenco stared at the RPG launcher on the ground with a regretful gaze. He calculated the kanma’s position from the bullet’s trajectory. He slowly hooked his foot on the launcher’s stand. He pulled the launcher to him by folding his knees.

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Tap!

Rubnenco hurriedly straightened his knees. The bullet bounced off the RPG’s frame and dug itself into the trench’s floor. The pool of blood that had filled the trench splashed.

‘Ugh, that ghostly bastard!’

Rubnenco shivered. The bullet had been shot the moment he had moved his leg. The other was an extremely sensitive enemy.