Mercenary Black Mamba

Chapter 221: Chapter 26, Episode 15: The Syria-Ruman Plan

“Are there any changes?” the man in the khaki military uniform, who almost dozed off standing against a rock, asked.

His voice was filled with annoyance.

“They aren’t coming out of the house, at all. Even the foreigner, who was strolling around the garden, can’t be seen,” the man answered while viewing through the binoculars.

He was wearing a half-sleeved checkered shirt and a keffiyeh on his head. Syria’s weather was similar to Korea’s, but Syria had stronger sun rays. Most men wore hats.

People in the southern regions wore ghutras on their heads and fixed it with the agal because of the high temperature and strong sunlight. People in the northern regions wore traditional keffiyehs as the temperature wasn’t as high.

“Don’t take your eyes off them, even for a second. That b*stard’s the foxiest amongst all foxes. He disappears in a blink. Damn, what am I doing so early in the morning?”

The man in the military uniform yawned until the corners of his mouth stretched before dabbing away the tears around the corners of his eyes. He was annoyed since he had to keep an eye on a district that wasn’t under his jurisdiction.

“Sir Abdul, where do you think Sir Azar went without telling us?”

“Hmph, he’s probably on top of a woman somewhere. Why do I need to suffer because of that b*stard?”

Abdul was very annoyed. He had been on the receiving end of the district officer’s temper because of Azar’s sudden disappearance. He had planned on asking for half of the profits once Mohammad’s tail was found.

“Jawadi, make sure you’re watching them properly. Once everything’s over, you’ll receive Bakri’s herd of sheep and Mohammad’s younger sister.”

“Ha, of course, sir. Those Orthodox Christians must be planning something since Bakri had taken Mohammad with him in a rush. Kekeke!”

The young man called Jawadi laughed in delight. When he thought about Mohammad’s younger sister, Bassel, his lower half became excited. He still had lingering feelings for Bassel after violating her small chest and smooth butt.

“Good, we can accuse that foreigner of being one of the Muslim Brothers. Bakri will be nothing once we have evidence. That b*stard still has some wealth, after all. Let’s catch ourselves a big one, hm? Hehehe!”

Abdul’s mood lifted. The higher-ups had told him not to touch the Orthodox Christians without clear evidence, but evidence could be created.

“You guys look happy in the early morning. Can you see well?”

“Ah!”

At the sudden voice, Abdul and Jawadi turned their necks quickly that it almost cracked. A tall Asian wearing a tobe with a keffiyeh pressed on his head, swaggered toward them. He had appeared out of nowhere, as though he had fallen off the sky or shot out of the ground.

“Who…who are you?”

“He’s that, that b*stard, the foreigner who’s staying in Bakri’s house…”

Abdul’s hand slipped into his breast pocket before Jawadi could finish talking.

Shik—

The air separated. The Gorgon wrapped around Abdul’s arm like a falling meteorite.

“Aaaagh!” an ear-splitting scream escaped from Abdul’s mouth.

The veins and muscles on his arm, which held the gun, were torn off. The gun fell to the ground as his wrist snapped. The diamond pieces coated on the whip ripped off even more skin, revealing white bones.

“Shut up, or I’ll cut off your necks.”

Woosh—

The whip accelerated as it swung through the air and landed on a rock.

Crash—

Pieces of rock scattered in the air. With a flick of his wrist, the whip shot up like a snake’s head. The Gorgon wrapped itself around an olive branch of the thickness of an ankle. When he tugged his wrist, the branch sliced off and rolled on the ground.

Blue-tinted eyes swept past Abdul and Jawadi. Abdul trembled from the aftershock of having his arm nearly cut off. Abdul’s mouth shut like a clam at the vicious display of power.

Jawadi shivered and dared not to fight back. He didn’t attempt to run because he feared the Gorgon’s power that he’d just witnessed.

“You pieces of s****!”

Sik—

Black Mamba silently smirked, revealing his white teeth. He hadn’t understood the entire conversation, but he could guess from the words Azar, Bakri, women, inheritance, and a few more. He didn’t have a flea’s leg worth of consideration to treat trash like human beings.

Whisk—

Splat—

The Gorgon stretched forward like a spear and pierced through Jawadi’s right shoulder. The five-pointed end snapped his muscle veins, ruptured his muscles, and disappeared.

“Gaaah!”

“Shut up. Don’t you think it’s unfair for the other b*stard if you’re the only one unharmed? We need to be fair.”

Jawadi couldn’t understand what the other person was saying, but he closed his mouth to the best of his abilities. He instinctively understood that if he screamed any further, he’d feel the whip’s power again.

Whoosh—

The Gorgon flew through the air once more.

Riip—

It unexpectedly tore off Abdul’s shirt, scratching his skin. Abdul and Jawadi stared blankly at Black Mamba in fear.

“Stop the blood!”

Abdul wrapped his bleeding arm with his torn shirt. Jawadi also took off his shirt and wrapped it around his shoulder.

“Lead the way!”

Body language was enough to substitute an unfamiliar language. Abdul and Jawadi became docile like elementary children.

Bakri and Mohammad, who had been wandering around the entrance of the castle’s remains, widened their eyes. Three people were walking up the mountain. The Ddu-bai-buru-pa was herding two shirtless men like sheep.

The b*stard with a makeshift bandage around his arm was Mukhabarat’s Abdul, someone they had feared to make eye contact with. The other b*stard, whose shoulder was drenched in blood, was swaying from side to side. They couldn’t believe that the humans who used to wield absolute power were in such a state.

“I’ll lead you underground, sir.”

Bakri and Mohammad dragged the two men into the dark castle remains. Bakri lit an oil lamp and led them down the stairs. He was a very thorough person.

The basement was rather deep. They finally reached a leveled underground space after turning four flights of stairs. As rumored, the underground was eerie with rising thick pillars of stone. Further inside, a pillar had crumbled, causing the ceiling to collapse.

“Good! Let’s get straight to the point since there isn’t much time.”

Black Mamba sat on the large stalactite base. Bakri volunteered and began to translate.

“Who…who are you?” Abdul, who was now used to the pain, questioned while clenching his teeth.

He received a ruthless reply in return.

“Shut up. I ask, and you guys answer. I will break a finger every time you hesitate to answer. If you don’t answer at all, I will peel your skin off.”

Abdul and Jawadi’s faces crumpled at Bakri’s translation.This is a nightmare. They tried to deny reality, but the pain in their arm and shoulder prevented them from doing so.

“Name and affiliation?”

Jawadi gathered his courage and replied obediently.

“I’m Sarab Jawadi, a Shabiha member of the Aleppo regional branch.”

“You…you are Jawadi?” Mohammad trembled from head to toe.

His sister had muttered Jawadi’s name in between her cries.

“What is it?”

“That…that b*stard. That b*stard is the one who raped Bassel!”

Damn, that b**** was Mohammad’s sister!

Jawadi returned to his senses and ran towards the stairs. Women had a low status within society in Arab countries, but rape wasn’t acceptable. It was custom to put the raper’s p***s on a cutting board and chop it off. It would be fine to dismiss the accusation outside, but right now, it wasn’t an ideal situation.

“That…that b*stard, catch him!” Mohammad stuttered.

The Gorgon stretched out like an arrow and wrapped around Jawadi’s ankle.

“Agh!”

Bang—

With the Gorgon’s flick, Jawadi soared across the air and landed beneath Black Mamba’s feet.

“Brat, you’re not a chicken head, so where are your revision skills?”

Black Mamba’s eyes turned emotionless.

Rape!

Black Mamba was traumatized by rape. A light-red dot appeared above his white sclera.

Ssss—

Bloodlust exuded like mist. Jawadi, who had his ankle torn, couldn’t scream. Mohammad pulled out a Khanjar.

“You are before Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa, Mohammad. Calm down.”

Bakri tapped on Mohammad’s shoulder. Bakri’s words had pacified Black Mamba instead.

“Mohammad, I leave the clean-up to you. Don’t rush the matter.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I’ve overstepped my boundaries.”

“It’s fine, I understand. Bakri, shoot him if he runs away.”

Black Mamba winked and threw Abdul’s gun at him.

“Name and affiliation?”

Black Mamba’s eyes turned towards Abdul.

There was silence.

Abdul didn’t interrupt while Bakri was translating. Abdul’s thumb was soon in Black Mamba’s hand.

“Let go!”

Abdul resisted, but it was like hitting a raw egg against stone.

Crack—

The sound of a cracking dry stone echoed.

“Gaaah!”

Abdul screamed desperately when his thumb was pushed back toward his wrist. Black Mamba held his index finger.

“If you make another sound, I will break another finger. I see there’s still nine left.”

Abdul understood even without Bakri’s translation. He desperately held back an escaping scream. The b*stard before him, who had appeared as though he’d fallen off the sky, was a devil from hell.

The veins and white bones that were ripped off from his flesh glistened underneath the oil lamp. Mohammad and Bakri shivered. Bakri had suffered a greater shock. The apostle, who had been as warm as the spring wind, had turned colder than the northern blizzards. Was that fearful person the same apostle who had played with Wael and laughed around the dining table?

On the other hand, his chest grew warmer. He was the deacon of Syria’s Orthodox Church. He couldn’t do anything but watch with bloody tears as his fellow Christians were threatened, chased down, and powerless. Look, the way he had treated all the sinners sternly by firmly punishing them—wasn’t that what an apostle who would bring changes to the world should look like?

“Name and affiliation?”

Abdul’s mouth gave way after suffering a round of horrible torture.

“I’m Aziz Abdul of the Mukhabarat, Third Division’s Sharran officer of the Aleppo region.”

“Abdul, tell me the total number of the Mukhabarat, Third Division agents, and Shabiha in the Aleppo region.”

“There are 14,300 people in the Aleppo region and 150 agents in the Third Division. There are about 20,000 Shabiha. There are 1,200 intelligence workers in the Third Division alone.”

“Huh!”

Black Mamba was slightly surprised. The place looked like any other highlands with sparse villages. Countless police personnel had assembled around the peaceful village. Suddenly, he realized that he had made the right decision. Going against them would only cause problems.

“Do you know where the Muslim Brotherhood is located?”

“We suspect they’re in a region called Hraytan, a new town in Aleppo, but we haven’t located them yet. Mohammad should know.”

At Bakri’s words, Black Mamba turned to look at Mohammad.

“The Muslim Brotherhood is Syria’s local militia, and its base is located in Hraytan, where it is made up of underground networks. After Assad bombed the Hama mosque, the central region’s Sunni faction’s principalities started joining.”

“Mohammad, you b*stard, you are a Muslim brother! Traitor, may you be cursed by Allah.” Abdul gritted his teeth.

“I am an Orthodox Christian and have nothing to do with Allah. Allah knows how many people have suffered because of your evil actions. You will receive Allah’s curse instead.”

Mohammad took off his shoes and slapped Abdul’s cheeks apathetically. Abdul began to scream as his cheeks swelled like baking bread.

“You…you b*stard! Do you think you’ll be safe after this?”

Abdul gritted his teeth. Having his cheeks slapped was a greater humiliation than death.

“Don’t worry about others, and worry about yourself instead.”

When Bakri stopped him, Mohammad spat on Abdul and stepped back.

“Mohammad, do you know their figures?”

“Their armed members are approximately 450 and the unarmed members around 2,000. The unarmed members usually lead the protests and riots. Ah, there’s something you should know. There’s an ammunition factory in Sharran. Syria’s military stands guard there.”

“That’s good.”

Black Mamba smiled, revealing his white teeth.

“They’re b*stards who don’t know much. I’ve wasted my time. There’s no reason for them to live since they’re useless.”

As soon as Black Mamba finished talking, Bakri pulled on the gun slider.

Clack—

When the cold barrel touched his forehead, Jawadi started to protest.

“Save me! Why aren’t you asking me anything? Bakri, I’ll tell you who killed your son!”

Bakri smiled.

“Try talking.”

Black Mamba stood up effortlessly.

“Bakri, you take care of the rest.”

“Ddu-bai-buru-pa, sir, you’ve granted us great honor.”

Bakri and Mohammad lowered their heads. Black Mamba, who was climbing the stairs, turned around.

“It’ll be bad for them to act up.”

Abdul and Jawadi frowned. They knew the evil b*stard’s next move.

Crack—

Crack—

Abdul and Jawadi’s arm joints were pulled out, followed by their hip joints.

Bakri shoved the gun back into his chest pocket after realizing Black Mamba’s intentions.

“We’ll take care of them quietly.”

Black Mamba waved his hands as though he entrusted their lives to them and left the basement. There was a second underground basement below the one they were in. The place had an awful energy, and the eerie atmosphere kept poking at his senses.

“It’s over.”

Two lives perished from underground. Bakri and Mohammad had an overwhelming grudge. No way would they let a Muhkabarat and Shabiha live. If they’d forgiven all sinners with a religious cause because of their beliefs, Black Mamba would have been disappointed.

Jawadi’s corpse was brutalized. His organs and tongue were taken apart while injuries decorated his entire body. Mohammad’s anger had exceeded Black Mamba’s expectations.

“Ddu-bai-buru-pa, sir, I’d like to burn these b*stards.”

Mohammad’s eyes gleamed.

“They need to serve a better purpose. Bakri, do you have any sacks to put them in?”

“We can use potato sacks, sir.”

Bakri left the basement in an instant.

“Mohammad, I heard you run an organization. Slip the location of the Muslim Brotherhood to the Mukhabarat.”

“Yes, sir. What should we do with their corpses?”

“Trash them in front of the Mukhabarat’s Third Division’s office. Even better if you write, ‘get rid of Allah’s enemy, Assad.’ Hehehe!”

Bakri and Mohammad instantly understood. The plan was to have Allah’s enemy fight against each other.

“Ddu-bai-buru-pa, sir, you’re sly and evil.” Bakri smiled easily.

“I don’t like either Assad or the Muslim Brotherhood. Children grow by fighting each other.”

“Hehehe! You are right, sir. Do you think the Mukhabarat would respond immediately?”

“A government worker is usually slow. There’s a joke about a dying person. A politician would ask for the person’s address, a religious follower would ask about the person’s wealth, the person’s children would ask for the password to his bank account, and a government worker would look for the regulations handbook. Government officials will only work quickly when their a**es are kicked. So, I’ll be kicking their a**.”

The two couldn’t laugh. The joke was filled with bloodlust. The underground’s atmosphere turned colder at the fearsome being’s joke.