God of Blackfield

Miguel sat across from Sharlan at a table in the barracks.

“It’s been a while,” he greeted stiffly.

“Yes, sir,” Sharlan replied.

A hard silence hung in the air. Soon, one of the soldiers brought over two cups of coffee.

Miguel lifted one of them to his mouth.

“Not bad,” he remarked.

“You didn’t come here for coffee. What’s going on?”

“I’ve got a mission for you.”

“A mission so important that you had to come and deliver it in person.”

“An operation for three special forces units, including the 11th, to take out Rebel Commander Absala in Mangala.”

Miguel took a sip of coffee and then brought his cigarette to his mouth.

“Given the number of rebels, won’t it be difficult to determine where Absala is?”

“It’s a difficult order for me to understand too, but there’s always a reason why we can’t find him, isn’t there?”

Sharlan nodded.

“If necessary, I’ll see the Asian commander myself,” Miguel suggested.

“That won’t be necessary. I’ll take care of it, sir.”

“If he refuses…”

“He is the commander of a special forces team. He has refused operations in the past, but he has never turned down a legitimate mission.”

Sharlan couldn’t help but think that things were working out perfectly.

Miguel simply tilted his head.

“He won’t refuse since we’ll be providing the enemy’s numbers and the risks involved. The question is, where is Absala?”

“He’ll know that once two other units have joined you here.”

“I see.”

Miguel knew Sharlan well. He was a stubborn, old soldier who was needlessly prideful.

“I’m glad things worked out so well,” Miguel said. As he stood up, he asked, “Ah! Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No, sir,” Sharlan replied firmly.

Finding Sharlan’s adamant demeanor amusing, he didn’t insist further.

After shaking hands, Miguel left. Sharlan then flipped through the maps off to one side.

Rustle.

He spread a detailed map of the Mangala region on the table.

Just two days ago, British intelligence had told him about Mangala. He had heard there would be a conflict.

However, the orders that came down weren’t a search operation or a sweep-up mission. It was an assassination order for a rebel leader, involving three special forces teams.

“What the hell are they up to?” Sharlan spat as if the map would give him an answer. “Fucking hell! Even the British trust me!”

He was the one in charge of on-field missions, yet the DGSE was treating him as if he was expendable.

The British intelligence probably weren’t twiddling their thumbs waiting around just for Sharlan to take care of it either. The thought that they could get what they wanted through other routes made his stomach turn.

If a Blackhead with energy popped out of nowhere, Sharlan would definitely be eliminated.

***

After a round of intense ball with the soldiers, Kang Chan spent about twenty minutes drinking water and cooling down. Had he showered right after playing, he would have immediately started sweating once he was done anyway.

Kang Chan drank water amid the laughing soldiers.

He had denied unreasonable orders to protect them, and he was working hard away from the eyes of others to improve his own skills.

Life seemed to be just as usual as Kang Chan chuckled with his men.

However, these past few days, a sticky and unpleasant feeling had been clinging to him.

After cooling down a bit, Kang Chan reached for a cigarette. However, before he could have a quick smoke, he saw Sharlan walking toward him.

He hoped Sharlan wouldn’t give him a dumb mission, but a part of him hoped Sharlan would say something foolish too.

Upon reaching them, Sharlan looked at the soldiers one by one.

“I’ve got a joint operation with two other units for you.”

Gazing at the back, added, “Your orders are to take out Absala, the rebel commander in Mangala.”

Fuck!

Kang Chan didn’t reply, and Sharlan didn’t push him.

“I’ll inform you of his location later.”

Sharlan turned and walked back to his barracks.

***

After changing into shorts and a cotton tee, Kang Chan sat down at the table in front of his barracks.

It was a difficult but justifiable order for his team. Hence, he couldn’t refuse just because he was unwilling and had a bad feeling about it.

Just then, Gérard, dressed in casual clothes, approached him with a bottle of water that he had been drinking. He was always like this; it was nothing out of the ordinary.

However, the Gérardsat down at the table, Kang Chan immediately thought, ‘It’s him this time!’

Though it was not certain, the sticky, unpleasant sensation seemed to be telling him that he was about to lose Gérard, who was smiling cheekily in front of him.

Gérard glanced behind him to see if there was something behind him and then looked back.

Kang Chan exhaled quietly.

He never knew when, why, or how he was going to lose someone. However, once the crisis was right in front of him, the way his heart drummed against his chest always confirmed that he wasn’t wrong.

Kang Chan stared into the distance. He needed a moment to make up his mind.

***

Before dinner, Kang Chan sought out Sharlan. Sharlan looked up as Kang Chan sat across from him.

“I have a favor to ask of you before the operation.”

Sharlan tilted his head, his gaze demanding an explanation.

“Please send Gérard somewhere else.”

“Hmm.”

Sharlan leaned away from the table, sinking into his chair’s backrest.

“Why?”

Kang Chan already expected Sharlan to ask such a question. Unfortunately, for the life of him, he couldn’t think of a good excuse.

“His concentration has been off lately. It’s a difficult mission, and I’d rather have eleven people who are in sync.”

Sharlan knew better than anyone how close Dayeru, Gérard, Éiric, and Mazani were. He smirked as if telling Kang Chan to tell him the truth.

“Many units will covet an asset like Gérard. I need a more compelling reason. A more plausible one too, since we’re running out of time and I still have a report to write.”

Sharlan rubbed his thumb and forefinger, stalling for time, and nodded languidly.

“I’ll take care of it. You want me to tell Gérard myself, don’t you?”

“I’d prefer it if you acted like it was an order from the higher-ups.”

“I’ll send him away tomorrow.”

Kang Chan didn’t expect it to be so easy.

“Tell him to pack his things after breakfast.”

“Yes, sir,” Kang Chan said and stood up.

“Wait,” Sharlan said. “Can’t you at least say thank you?”

Since Sharlan had accepted his favor, Kang Chan supposed that was right.

“Thank you.”

Kang Chan gave a neat bow and left Sharlan’s barracks.

***

It was time for dinner.

Kang Chan stood in front of the fire with a frying pan.

When it was hot enough, he put meat into the skillet. They looked like hamburger patties that came in bundles of ten.

He didn’t need to oil the skillet. If he waited a few moments, the skillet would be oily already.

The smell of burning fat quickly wafted around the barracks.

“Whoa!” Dayeru approached with an expectant gaze. “Give me a plate.”

It was all because of this asshole that his men had been speaking in a messy combination of French, Arabic, and English to each other.

Kang Chan gestured at the table, and Dayeru brought a plate. This perceptiveness of his came in handy in combat.

Kang Chan cooked twenty chunks of meat in three batches.

The frying pan was soaked in oil. This time, he cracked eggs into the pan until it was half full.

They didn’t have a fridge, so it was best to eat the eggs a few days after they were dropped off by the plane.

Kang Chan swirled the frying pan with chopsticks off the heat. The scrambled eggs were ready in no time.

At that moment, Éiric, Mazani, and Gérard approached the table. They were holding coffee, canned food, bread, and jam.

“That’s a lot of food.”

Fortunately, the wind wasn’t blowing.

On a gusty day, they would have been cramped inside the barracks.

“Let’s eat.”

Kang Chan picked up a fork and began to eat.

As the sun set on the horizon, they spent the evening chuckling at stupid jokes and eating meat, scrambled eggs, canned stews, and torn-apart bread.

They had heard the news.

They knew how hellish Mangala was. Right now, they were laughing and chuckling, but once the operation was over, some of the men here might not be able to sit at the table again.

After their delightful dinner, two of the men wiped the greasy plates and pans with dishwashing paper while the other two made coffee.

The next step, of course, was to light cigarettes, sit back, and enjoy the coffee.

“Sometimes I can’t help but find Africa beautiful,” Gérard said.

Mazani interpreted his words for Dayeru.

Dayeru then smiled widely. “Dumb chick.”

Kang Chan chuckled as he lifted a cigarette to his mouth.

Ever since he’d requested for Gérard to be sent away, the unpleasant stickiness had disappeared like it had never been there.

It was times like these that he became selfish.

He wondered if Bricks, somewhere in this African sky, had told him that.

The rest of their evening was uneventful.

***

Soon, the sun began to rise.

Kang Chan woke up and ran at dawn and ran. However, here in Africa, early-rising rats were often eaten by snakes, and the highest-soaring eagles reached their prey last and began another starved day.

Kang Chan breathed heavily, wondering for the first time if it was time to quit this life and if he could do something with the modest amount of money he had saved.

He couldn’t operate a travel agency or a restaurant. Definitely not a bar.

Gérard, who was up early and sitting at the table, interrupted him.

“What are you doing?” Kang Chan asked.

“I woke up early.”

Gérard pushed the bottle of water he’d placed on the table in front of Kang Chan. There were still two large bottles of water on the table for Kang Chan to use to wash up.

Kang Chan thought it was fortunate that he had decided to send him away.

He gulped down the cool water as he turned his gaze to the African sky.

***

After breakfast, while sitting around the table, a sharp-eyed Sharlan walked in.

Click, click.

“Gérard Gee!”

“Oui!”

“You were reassigned! Pack your bags!”

Startled, Gérard instantly turned to Kang Chan.

“You’ll be leaving in an hour. I’ll let you know where you’re going right before you leave,” Sharlan ordered coldly and left, his eyes catching Kang Chan’s right before.

The rest of the men looked as if they’d been slapped too.

“Captain! That can’t be right!”

“I’ll go check. Since they were orders, at least pretend like you’re packing your things for now.”

Kang Chan quickly hurried to his feet.

He hadn’t realized how hard it was to lie—to keep a straight face and gaze.

Kang Chan walked straight into Sharlan’s barracks.

“Thank you, sir.”

“It was nothing. I don’t want to hear another request like this again, though.”

“Yes, sir.”

Leaving Sharlan’s barracks, Kang Chan moved back to the table.

Gérard was still there.

“I can’t do anything about this order right now. You go, and I’ll bring you back once things settle down.”

“Captain! It doesn’t make sense that I’m getting sent away right after we received a mission! We won’t have enough men!”

Gérard had the same look in his eyes from his application form—the one that made Kang Chan choose him. It showed how harsh it felt for him to be sent away from this place alone.

“The orders were already given. There’s nothing I can’t do about it now! Stop nagging me and pack your bags! You have to obey the command now. That’s the only way I can ask you to be brought back here in the future!”

The guys at the table looked back and forth between Kang Chan and Gérard.

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