Chapter 117: Chapter 15, Episode 6: The End of Habib

He couldn’t have imagined that the baby duck would be going through his old notebook with a bloodthirsty expression…

It was a notebook that Black Mamba, no, Mu Ssang named Debt and Repayment Records. On the front cover of the notebook were the faded words ‘debt should be returned tenfold, revenge a hundredfold’.

“He’s a gay b*stard, but not a bad guy.”

Black Mamba hesitated after wondering whether he should write Pieff’s name in the notebook, before putting it back in his pocket. Pieff didn’t realize that the world’s largest threat had soundlessly brushed past him. This was why the saying ‘ignorance is bliss’ was known better to the world than ‘knowledge is power’.

The captain began questioning once again.

“Councilman Habib, are you ready to reply? I may be able to let you live depending on how you cooperate.”

“Huhu, why would a human want to live after meeting the Kanma? Stop barking lies and do whatever you want. Kill or let me live.”

“Where’s Makumbo right now?”

“I see. You’re not asking because you don’t know, but because you want to check, no?”

Habib looked up at the captain with a mocking smile.

“Ahem!”

The captain coughed to relieve the awkwardness of having his intentions revealed. There was no difference between Habib, who had been betrayed by his subordinates, and himself, who had been abandoned by the Department of Defense.

“France is amazing to have thrown away such talented people like you as bait. Or is the bait comparably minor when trying to fish up a large haul like Chad?”

“Stop talking nonsense and answer the question.” The Captain said in annoyance.

“Idiot!”

Black Mamba, who had been meditating a while away, laughed at him. Habib was trying to piece back his pride by mocking France. The ‘ever so stickler for the rules’ captain was being shaken around by an aged Habib, without resistance.

“There’s no reason not to tell you. Makumbo is in N’Djamena. One of our informants confirmed the betrayer’s presence in the president’s palace.”

“Damn it!”

The captain’s face crumpled.

He had predicted it, but it felt as though he had shoved a handful of wild mustard in his mouth, hot and sour.

“Is Makumbo’s surrender real?”

“There’s no such thing as honesty in that dog-like fence-sitter’s dictionary. The plan we had with Makumbo at the very beginning was ruined by mad bstards like you. We didn’t imagine that you bstards had been wind -pointers. I find myself pathetic to have been fooled by such a stupid frog. I want to ask you something. How many of the special forces were put into Kanem and Borkou?”

“We’re all there is.”

“No!”

Habib zoned out for a moment.

“You probably can’t believe it, but there’s no reason to lie. Over 900 of my subordinates have been killed by you. There’s about 1300 dead in all of FROLINAT. This improbable situation is because of the Kanma, no, that person called Black Mamba, for certain.”

Habib paused for a moment to collect his breath.

“To think such a person could exist…I did nothing wrong. I have simply been defeated by a Kanma who isn’t human. Have I been abandoned by Allah?” Habib murmured as though he had lost his mind.

“There’s nothing to feel unjust about. Half of my subordinates have died as well. We’ve only killed in order not to die. What was the reason for your attacks, when you already knew Makumbo had escaped?”

“Do you really not know! A desert’s warrior does not suffer humiliation. You have all tramped on the pride of the FAP. Regardless of my death, the FAP will continue chasing you until the end with their pride on the line.”

“Ha, they’ll throw away thousands of soldiers just for the sake of pride?”

“It’s not only to regain pride. Kanma’s infamous name had surpassed fear amongst FROLINAT. It’s only with Kanma’s death that the FROLINAT would be able to conquer the Sahel.”

“Hm, we’ve become that famous! Where did you get information about us?”

The captain didn’t ask how he gained the information but from where. How…he already knew.

“I received information from Libya’s intelligence agency. We were similarly fooled. We believed the information DGSE released without knowing it was a part of a plan. We wasted our precious time trying to catch you, thanks to that. From that perspective, you all are unfortunate. It’s something like piglets thrown into a lions fence. Hahahaha!”

Habib laughed in delight. He was in a pitiful state, but there was no retreat for the mercenaries, either.

“Captain, there’s no need to listen to him anymore. Let’s kill him already.”

Jang Shin pulled out his beretta in anger.

“That’s right. We knew all of that already. We need to kill that bstard, and shoot all those bstards in headquarters.”

“We need to beat up those DGSE b*stards first.”

Emil and Bell Man were similarly worked up.

The captain laughed inwardly at his subordinates who were acting exactly as he’d planned.

“Wait a moment. There’s something else that needs to be confirmed.”

He stopped his overeager subordinates.

There was no need to question Habib at this point. The only reason he was going over obvious facts was to prompt anger from his team members, who were under considerable mental strain.

What was the origin of fear that caused humans to give up on survival?

When the lifeboat of reliability sank in the middle of a vast ocean, when one was bitten by a black mamba in isolation within a thick rainforest, when there was no more water in the last bottle in the middle of a desert, when one came across a starved tiger with a bullet-less empty rifle…it was none of that. A true threat to survival was not such impulsive and violent threats. The threat that seeped in like water, little by little, was true fear.

And that was the situation the Ratel team was in.

They were isolated in a foreign land, their enemies chased them relentlessly, comrades died one by one, with an absence of experienced veterans…

The only working force that allowed them to hold on until now was the inhumane existence called Black Mamba. Even so, the long term stress made the team members exhausted. The trigger to their frustration was anger. The captain was more academic, but he wasn’t stupid.

“Ask me quickly if you want to know something. I’m too tired.” Habib rushed his questioning.

“The b*stard who passed on the information from headquarters has already been arrested. Did the Legion Etrangere’s command also know about the back door team’s existence?”

Habib made a stupefied face.

“Why are you asking me that? Didn’t you guys receive orders from the 11th Airborne brigade anyway?”

“Ha, that’s right.”

The captain made a bitter face.

He wanted to know whether the back-door plan had been an individual project of the DGSE’s, or had been processed under silent cooperation by the highest members of Legion Etrangere. Nothing changed even if it was one or the other. It was the last resistance of an unfortunate heart that wished to deny the betrayal of a family he’d long shared food with.

The captain suddenly detested himself.

“Damn it, I’ve grown old. Should I retire before I experience something more humiliating?”

He had an urge for discharge, which made him conflicted.

“Tell me the FROLINAT’s containment network.”

“Ha, it seems like you don’t want to die. It’ll be hard. Your surprise attack on my mansion was well planned. I sent out an order, by mistake you see, assuming Abduhl was responsible. Seeing how you’ve survived until now, only demonstrates the chaos the council must be in. Still, I refuse. The Sahel is our living room. The entire National Liberation Army has headed out to seal the return route. Even the stationed army in TIbesti has been released. You b*stards are in between the gravel and hammer and only have destruction left.”

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Black Mamba stepped forth.

“Habib, last question. I need you to reveal where Bata province’s Abbas battalion is.”

“How surprising, you’ve managed to find a part of Mor. That betrayer, Kikali, must have told you.”

“Yes. Even he didn’t know the exact position.”

Habib laughed inwardly.

That bstard Kikali had hidden Abbas battalion’s position from Black Mamba. Now that the bstard was planning to become independent, he could understand. Abbas was similarly a Tuareg tribal leader, like Kikali.

If Kikali was the Vilma and Tibesti’s Amenokal, Abbas was Ennedi and Bata province’s Amenokal. Kikali was trying to get rid of the other Amenokal using Kanma’s hand. Power was more addictive than drugs. They were all the same.

Habib wanted to send Kanma on a train to hell for destroying everything he had established in the past decade with a single blow.

“Kekeke!”

Habib cackled with shaking shoulders.

“Everything is God’s will, I will wait for you below. Allahu-Akbar!”

Habib closed his eyes after saying everything he wished to say.

His power and life had both come to the end. All that remained was a betrayed soul and broken body. What had he tried to gain by killing all those lives? He felt empty.

A short life was the training ground of the soul. He only feared for the punishment of throwing his soul into eternal darkness and had no more regrets in life.

“Black Mamba, we need to know where their soldiers are stationed.” Mike prompted in a hurry.

Black Mamba took a glance at Habib’s face, before shaking his head.

“No, his mind had died before his body.”

“What the hell are you saying? Anyone will blow if you cut off a few fingers.”

Bell Man stopped Mike, who took out his Ka-bar knife.

“Black’s right. There’s no point in torture.”

“What, you want to treat him like a prisoner?”

“Emil, it seems like the sergeant’s confidence has grown.”

Mike flinched.

He had heard Jang Shin whispering to Emil.

“Trou du cul putain.” [1]

Mike, who wasn’t able to hold back his anger any longer, kicked Habib’s side relentlessly. Habib didn’t even react.

“Mike, the dead don’t speak.” Black Mamba said softly.

There was a smell of rotten corpse about Habib. His soul had died.

“Bell Man, what should we do about this?”

The captain poked at the lump with his foot.

They were in a situation where saving one’s own body was no mean feat. It wasn’t suitable to drag around a hostage. It was also questionable as to whether there was any point to a hostage when FROLINAT was so divided.

“There’s a Korean saying that goes,’ the person who ties the knot will untie the knot.’ Give him to Black Mamba.”

“Black Mamba, you hear that?”

“Ok. The person who knotted isn’t me but Ombuti. Ombuti will figure it out.”

“Do that, then.”

A rebel guerrilla wasn’t a part of an official army. Obviously, they weren’t a part of the Geneva Agreement. There was no reason to treat a madman like a prisoner, either. Habib himself had claimed he was a warrior, but he was nothing but trash who’d lost his human instincts. He was nothing but trash rotting in religious prestige. Trash and waste had to be cleaned out by the cleaner. The captain, who’d lost interest, separated from the rebelling leader who was placed in a pitiful situation and left with Pieff.

“Ombuti, present.”

Black Mamba left Habib’s end to Ombuti.

Ombuti’s mouth hung from ear to ear. He teared up, moved.

“Wakil, thank you. I will repay this favor with the rest of my life.”

He kneeled and banged his forehead on the floor.

His owner had left the clean up of his enemy to him, as promised. His eye spewed embers in the thought of finally delivering his revenge.

The Sahel night wore on.

Black Mamba forgot the passing of time in a deep sleep. The flow of blood which had been crashing down like a stream in the rain had turned into thin veins. The silver pieces which had been mixed with the blood increased in number. The silver dots followed the stream of blood and swirled around the brain.

Shhh-

There was a sound of summer rain.

Crack-

“Mm!”

The man in the bed awoke at the sound.

It was the sound of Ombuti at Habib’s resting place. Ombuti could be seen treating Habib with care. The sound had been Ombuti slapping Habib’s thigh to inject an atropin.

Ombuti’s intention could be read in an instant. He was going to give Habib, a sane man, as a Bismillah[2]. He closed his eyes as if he hadn’t noticed.

“Ugh.” Habib groaned.

Ombuti sighed in relief. A bismillah had to be done as a living sacrifice. He couldn’t use a dead bstard as a fresh sacrificial being. He had been worried that the bstard had died.

Ombuti shoved his face up close to the point that their noses could touch. Words sharpened with blood came out of his mouth.

“Anta kelb, do you know who I am?”

Habib closed his eyes, which he had forced open to look at Ombuti. Everything was bothersome.

“Ugh, it’s that old b*stard again. Stop annoying me and just kill me.”

“Habib, it’s time for the bismillah.”

Habib’s eyes flew open.

“Bismillah! With what right?”

[1] “That mo*********** b*stard.”

[2] Sacrifice

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