The Black Mamba sits in a rudimentary truck container, which is very simple but has a good ventilation system. Although the suspension is not good, let the carriage bounce from time to time. But at least it doesn't feel too hot or too cold.

The Black Mamba is not young anymore, and he looks to be about fifty. But the bulging muscles in his shoulders and the weight of his whole body did not breathe at all. Suffice it to say that his age did not affect his combat ability too much. Sitting cross-legged next to the Black Mamba were all members of his squad.

The number was small, thirty-seven in all. They are an entire combat team, including demomen, assaulters, firefighters, drone reconnaissance, sniper teams, communicators, ...... and so on. If it was ten years ago, the name of the black mamba in the mercenary circle was enough to make countless people change their colors.

It's a cunning name, and it's a name that means death. The longest, fastest, and most aggressive killer of all venomous snakes in the world, the deadliest venomous snake, the Black Mamba himself lives up to this nickname. I don't know how many people died at his hands.

Even several jackals have died at his hands. It's just that no one knows that he did it. At that time, he did this under the guise of another mercenary group. After doing so, he wisely opted out of the mercenary groups. So those people were exterminated, but he was still alive.

Now it looks like he's alive and well. In fact, the Black Mamba had always thought he was going to die on the battlefield ten years ago. Because he can't get out. Until one point, he really thought he was dead. That time, it was his mercenary group that all died.

In the midst of a battle with drug dealers somewhere in South America, the opponent is about to wipe out the Black Mamba's team. However, a certain big man said a word. The Black Mamba survived. To this day, the Black Mamba doesn't know who the big man is. He was also surrounded by survivors from different mercenary groups.

In this, I even saw some people in the iron wall. Once a subordinate of King Arthur. These people are all people who survived after experiencing the near-annihilation of their own mercenary group, and were spoken by some big people. They were regrouped and pinched together, and then they trained together. Occasionally, they will be sent out on some missions.

Their families have been settled, and their wives and children live in wealthy neighborhoods. The children went to the best schools, and their identities were whitewashed and became the management of certain companies. Some even became "freelance artists". They will receive a reasonable fixed salary to maintain their expenses.

At the same time, they will often go to certain areas to conduct joint training or combat missions in their original capacity. None of them knew who the big man was. The only person who contacted them was a bald white man who looked like a butler.

He will appear in front of them politely in a stern tuxedo. Or smile and meet their reasonable requests, or smile and let them perform tasks that they don't know why. In essence, they are mercenaries. But something is different.

Now they are more like private soldiers. A private soldier who didn't even have a chance to meet his own master. Thankfully, their masters had little interest in killing them. It's just that I'm more interested in letting them work. Retirement is also possible, but retirement means losing a source of income.

Losing the protection from the owner. For them, it may mean that they are approached by the enemy to destroy the door. Therefore, even if they don't want to, they can only do it head-on, until the owner thinks that they are industrious enough. It is no longer suitable to continue the mission, so they will be retired.

On some of the venues, they've seen the old guys who are retired. Some of them were even recognizable, old guys they thought they must have died ten or even decades ago. And now, these old guys are running the fields safely.

Give them the responsibility of training, sorting out their weapons. There doesn't seem to be the slightest discomfort. It was also at that time that the Black Mamba knew that they could still live and retire one day. It was also from that time that the Black Mamba stopped thinking about who their master was.

It didn't matter anymore, it didn't matter if he was the head of a large family or the head of an organization. He was able to ensure that they had a regular income now and would not completely wipe them out when they were old. That's already good. Why do you have to meet your master?!

Perhaps, it is the meeting with the master that will lead to disaster. They think it's good to be like this now. As a mercenary, many times you take tasks from a service station, and it is impossible to know who gave the order. They just need to take the task and complete it. Get a commission from the service station and that's it.

There is actually no difference between now and then. Or even they just swapped the employer for the same person. As long as the task is completed, then not only can you receive a salary but also can ensure a pension. Even the living resources are very rich.

So what else needs to be considered?! No need to ask, everyone else is the same. The Black Mamba even knew that there were many more combat squads like them. They had even coordinated combat missions with each other, and even several of them recognized each other.

Even if there is some hatred, it is all put down at this time. The reason is simple, they all already have their own identities. They also have their own families, and they have worries and hopes. No one wants to go back to the way they used to live. I don't want to go back, I don't want my family to die tragically. Then honestly forget about some things that should be forgotten.

This mission, Black Mamba obviously felt that it was different from previous missions. The butler who came to deliver the mission, although it didn't look any different than before. But the black mamba still found some clues from some of his subtle expressions.

This mission may be a mortal mission. Almost all of them poured out of the nest. The few training grounds that the Black Mamba had observed, the old guys were empty. Apparently, they had evacuated those places in an orderly manner. Some of the former mercenaries who were in contact with them also lost contact.

"There is still half an hour to reach the destination, and we have fifteen minutes to select weapons and ammunition." A cold voice came from the headset: "The map of the area where the target is located has been sent to your handheld GPS." The goal this time is to kill all the living people there! ”