God of Blackfield

It took Kang Chan quite a while to check all forty corpses.

When he returned to the barracks, his right leg finally gave out. Still, although his odd and limping steps made his weapons and magazines clank around, the pain felt strangely comforting.

When Kang Chan arrived, he found Enzo tying his leg with a cloth that he seemed to have crawled on the floor to retrieve. Once done, he stretched his legs out and rested his back and head on a bed.

“Look under the desk there,” he commanded.

Having just examined dead bodies, Kang Chan wasn’t really in the best mood. Still, Enzo had to have a good reason to issue such an order despite the look in Kang Chan’s eyes.

Kang Chan wordlessly headed to where Enzo had pointed with his chin. He then searched through the desk drawers.

Pft.

It was unbelievable. At the bottom of it were two packs of cigarettes wrapped in plastic.

Kang Chan took the packs and went to get two bottles of water. His right leg dragged a little behind him, but he could still move.

After giving Enzo a bottle, he sat down on the ground in front of him and gulped his water down.

Thanks to a mere bottle of water and some hidden cigarettes, he finally felt as if he could breathe again.

When he joined the Foreign Legion, he imagined what the battles would be like. He thought he’d be crouching in trenches, shooting charging enemies, or jumping into impossible operations to fight against similarly armed opponents.

“Hoo.”

Finishing his water, Kang Chan tore off a cigarette and handed it to Enzo. Enzo popped it into his mouth.

Clunk. Hiss.

Seemingly intimidated by the look on Enzo and Kang Chan’s faces, the flame of the lighter timidly lit their cigarettes.

Kang Chan exhaled a long puff of smoke.

“It’s dangerous when you get angry about killing people,” Enzo quietly said, his head leaning back against the bed.

“Farmers plow fields, office workers type, and Foreign Legion soldiers kill people.”

Bringing the cigarette between his curled index and middle fingers to his mouth, Enzo inhaled so deeply that the embers of the cigarette illuminated his face for a while.

“Hooo. Following orders is part of our duty. That’s all that matters. The fact that you’re alive is more important than anything, though, so don’t think about why you had to kill them or why they ended up as corpses.”

Kang Chan shifted and slowly leaned back against the desk.

“Treat your wound.”

“I’ll do that later.”

Right now, he just wanted to rest.

If he’d been in Korea, would he have become a serial killer? An asshole who preyed on the lunch money of helpless students?

Kang Chan looked up at the mysterious sky.

***

Summer of 2001.

On the third day of a joint special forces training exercise, soldiers dressed in camouflage strapped special equipment to their chests. They then picked up rifles with new, cutting-edge technology. When the rifle’s trigger was pulled, a device would indicate the death or degree of injury dealt to the opponent, taking into account distance and wind.

Cha Dong-Gyun gulped deeply.

His skills didn’t fall behind too much. Objectively, there was nothing wrong with his movements, senses, aim, or anything else.

The problem was in the finer details. Their lack of experience aside, they should’ve been given better camouflage suits. Unlike the Green Berets and SAS’ camouflage suits, which made them extremely difficult to see, the camouflage of the Jeungpyeong special forces team was as clear as day. The colors were too distinct. How would they ever fool their enemies with such recognizable colors between the bushes?

‘Fuck. They gave us gear that’s whiter than snow. This is making us look like idiots.’

Cha Dong-Gyun gritted his teeth and swallowed another curse.

Their opponents were wearing camouflage suits that were the color of dirty snow. The smarter ones had shown up in whitish suits that weren’t even properly dyed white.

Ha! When those suits entered pure white snow, they would catch the ambient light and quickly blend into the background.

The Jeungpyeong special forces suits would reflect the rays of the sun everywhere they went. How could suits that could be captured on camera amongst the snow be proper camouflage? Despite their incompetence, the stupid generals were always so pleased whenever they saw the bright white gear.

If it wasn’t for Choi Seong-Geon, he would’ve quit the special forces team already.

‘You are the last bastion of Korea. The battles of the future will depend on the performance of the special forces teams. Even if you do not shine, even if you don’t earn big bucks, you must never lose your pride as a special forces team.’

Although their abilities were always compared to the other teams, Choi Seong-Geon never stopped doing his best to instill pride in them after training.

The pride of a special forces team? Fuck that. That wasn’t important to Cha Dong-Gyun.

Cha Dong-Gyun’s pride was in Choi Seong-Geon, who treated him like his own son.

Peew! Beep!

The device let out a sound, signaling that another soldier had been killed.

Cha Dong-Gyun thought of Choi Seong-Geon, who probably had a solemn look in the situation room.

‘Colonel, do you really think we can be a world-class special forces team?’

‘You idiot!’

Choi Seong-Geon had chuckled boisterously and cursed at Cha Dong-Gyun at the time.

‘You son of a bitch! Do you think I just picked up this colonel position in the woods? Once you get your act together, we can become a team that can compete against the strongest in the world.’

‘I’m not so sure I can do that.’

Cha Dong-Gyun still remembered the way Choi Seong-Geon had chuckled and patted his shoulder and neck. He had pulled him into a hug like a father would with his elementary school son.

‘Let’s do this, Dong-Gyun. A world where we’re not needed would be great, but let’s become a special forces team that no one can stop once we have to take action.’

Cha Dong-Gyun looked up, finding a meteor streaking across the sky.

***

Early winter 2001.

Um Ji-Hwan slammed fist after fist into the heads and jaws of the men blocking the alleyway.

Pow pow pow pow! Pow! Thud!

He then climbed up the wall and slammed his fist into the nape of the last guard’s neck, quickly putting an end to the fight.

Thud!

These motherfuckers!

Um Ji-Hwan dusted off his hands, picked up his bag, and ran out of the alley.

He was sick of dealing with assholes like them. However, a part of him also wanted to be their leader.

He was a mediocre student, but he could afford cram school or a tutor. Well, he supposed he wouldn’t go to a cram school or get tutored just because he was told to anyway. Adults said he didn’t have the brains for it.

On days like these, when Um Ji-Hwan felt conflicted, he’d always visit his mother before trudging back home.

Um Ji-Hwan entered a small market parking lot that had multiple stalls centered around a main aisle. After a bit of time walking down the side paths, he stopped near the middle of the establishment and stared at his mother. Her cheeks and nose were frozen red.

Her hands trembled as she did her best to make a living. Nevertheless, she always smiled whenever she bought sausages or pork belly for Um Ji-Hwan, saying that it made her the happiest.

While looking around for prospective customers, his mother eventually found him.

“What are you doing out here? It’s freezing!” she exclaimed.

“I wanted to see you before heading home.”

“My baby must be so cold.”

All the negative thoughts Um Ji-Hwan had immediately flew away when he saw his mother.

“I’ll be at home, Mother.”

“Alright! Why don’t you have some fish cakes or jjampong before you leave?”

“No, let’s have dinner together instead.”

“That’s nice too.”

Um Ji-Hwan waved at his mother and went home.

For his mother, her stupid son was her whole world. If something happened to Um Ji-Hwan, she wouldn’t be able to bear it.

Every bad thought that Um Ji-Hwan had fell away from him with every step he took.

‘I’ll take good care of you in the future, Mother.’

He wondered what she would look like as an old lady.

It would’ve been nice to have an older brother, though.

Um Ji-Hwan shook his head.

***

1998, Nduele, South Africa.

Kang Chan and Enzo flicked their cigarette butts on the floor to put them out.

“We’ll head to the trucks,” the exhausted Enzo told Kang Chan. “Most of them came here only armed with bayonets, and they didn’t even aim for the trucks. That means they were probably just trying to keep us tied up here. We have to leave while we still can.”

‘To where?’ Kang Chan asked with his eyes. He figured Enzo would understand enough.

“I didn’t expect the situation to turn out like this either. The next enemy that comes along will probably try to eliminate us.”

Shit!

Talking out loud seemed more accurate than trying to communicate with gazes.

“To where?”

“Leave that to me.”

Enzo seemed to have decided where they were going.

“I can’t drive,” Kang Chan said.

“Trust me.”

Kang Chan glanced at Enzo’s legs.

Sure, he can drive.

When Kang Chan raised his gaze again, he saw the same intense stare that Enzo had the day Kang Chan arrived.

***

Vrooom! Creak!

“No! I told you! You have to be more gentle with your left foot!”

Damn it!

Kang Chan started the car again.

Clunk, clunk, clunk, clunk! Vroooom!

“Okay, now press down with your right foot a little!”

Vroom!

“And gently raise your left foot!”

Vroom! Clunk! Clunk!

Every time the truck jolted forward, their necks snapped back and forth harshly.

“Now step on the left pedal again!”

Clunk!

Enzo shifted the gears.

Vrooom!

The truck was moving more smoothly now.

“Yes! Step on it more!”

As they accelerated, Kang Chan stepped on the left pedal as Enzo instructed again. Enzo then shifted gears.

“Let’s go!”

Riding through the dark African landscape, Enzo looked to be in high spirits.

Thanks to the bright moon above them, they could see so far ahead even without headlights.

***

Abdul Janelle looked back at his subordinates with a disbelieving expression.

“Didn’t I tell you to just surround them and bring his head if there’s a chance?! Did I issue any other orders?”

The flustered subordinate shook his head.

Abdul Janele, who was clutching his worn handkerchief, could aim and fire a rifle in a heartbeat.

“You were just up against two men, yet you’re telling me that all sixty men I sent to surround them have been killed?! They weren’t lined up in front of a machine gun or bunched together in front of RPGS, were they?”

“They had surrounded the two in a circle around thirty meters away, and some even tried to run in. Unfortunately, they all took a single shot to the head.”

Slam!

Abdul Janelle violently banged his fist on the desk.

“Those sneaky DGSE bastards! You can kill them for all I care! Just find them and bring them to me now” he furiously commanded. “Bring machine guns with you! RPGs! Everything! Go and deliver that guy’s head to me!”

Abdul continued to shout at his subordinates as they ran out. Soon after, they began shouting as well and revving the engines of their trucks.

“If this is how France is going to act, then I’ll have to change my stance too. I’ll teach them that they’re not the only ones who want the Eye of Ndulele.”

Turning around, he lifted his radio transmitter.

“This is the Farm. The Cargo is ready. I repeat: the Cargo is ready,” he said in a surprisingly calm voice. He then flipped the switch and changed the channel.

***

Pierre Raon ran down to the basement and put the headset on his head.

“Based on the radio transmission, it seems Abdul Janelle already does have the goods. We have not yet identified the person on the other end.”

- I’ll ask you one last time. Did the DGSE run any separate operations?

“If this is about the recruit, absolutely not.”

The person on the other end quieted down for a moment. The silence of the DGSE was scary. For the honor of France, they could and would wipe out an entire intelligence bureau office in South Africa.

- Where are the others?

“We have not yet been able to launch a search operation for fear of conflict with Abdul Janelle. With your approval, we’ll send in the forces we have on standby.”

What in the world is going on tonight?

Even Pierre Raon couldn’t believe the report that he was giving.

The person on the other end of the line fell silent once more.

Depending on the man’s decision, Pierre Raon and everyone else associated with him could be discovered as corpses tomorrow morning.

He could run away, but only if he was prepared to find his wife and kids as bloody victims of a robbery gone wrong. His parents and siblings would be next.

[Dispatch a rescue squad for the two, but avoid engaging with Abdul Janele. Reestablish the headquarters afterward.]

“Understood, sir.”

Pierre Raon spun his index finger in front of his face. Recognizing the signal, one of his subordinates hurried out of the basement.

After the call, Pierre Raon sighed loudly.

He had read the report about the young Asian man. A simple, unassuming man who joined the Foreign Legion with nothing about his passport or identity amiss.

Yet, somehow, he had rescued Enzo, survived against sixty enemies, and disappeared from the scene. Each of the enemies had been killed with a single bullet through the head, too.

Is he the incarnation of the god of death?

Pierre Raon wanted to smoke a cigarette and drink some coffee.

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