In fact, despite dissing his subordinate, Flamingo also thought Mike was a pretty boy and looked down on him.
Flamingo was his mercenary code name; most mercenaries had one, making them seem cooler. His subordinate's code name was Buffalo, and true to his name, he was incredibly reckless. However, according to Buffalo, he was named after the infamous U.S. serial killer Buffalo Bill.
That's just messed up.
The fewer people who knew about illicit affairs, the better, so Flamingo felt that he and Buffalo were enough.
As long as they knew the areas Mike had searched, it was easy to predict the next area Mike would search. Next, they just needed to set off in advance and ambush him on his inevitable path.
Their weapon was a shoulder-fired man-portable missile produced by Stark Industries. Flamingo called it 'Love,' meaning it would irresistibly meet you, and then—'Boom!'—sublimate in gunpowder.
Flamingo was responsible for launching, and Buffalo was responsible for observation. Covered in camouflage, they were difficult to spot with the naked eye.
Not long after, the two heard the loud roar of a helicopter's rotor.
Buffalo strictly performed his duty as an observer:
"Attention, target approaching!"
"Sector A, Marker 1, 50 degrees to the right, distance 150."
Facing a helicopter flying over at ultra-low altitude in a cavalier manner, Flamingo felt this was an easy target.
Flamingo knelt.
"Distance 100."
"Tracking system locking on."
"Distance 80."
"Tracking system lock complete, ready to fire."
"Distance 50."
"Fire!"
Through the scope, Flamingo could even clearly see the pilot's panicked expression and frantic movements.
"Was he discovered?"
Flamingo didn't care. Given the helicopter's maneuverability, even if it was discovered at this distance, it couldn't perform tactical evasions.
The helicopter's side door was open.
Flamingo saw the target holding a long blade, striking a strange pose. No matter how much the aircraft shook, he remained as steady as a mountain.
"He wouldn't actually try to cut down a missile with a blade, would he?"
Flamingo had an absurd thought. As a veteran mercenary, he had encountered many super-powered individuals, and even more Mutants among them. At first, Flamingo was indeed frightened, but as he had more contact, he felt they were just so-so.
Some super-powered individuals could withstand pistol bullets with their bare bodies?
And then what?
They'd get half their body blown apart by a heavy sniper rifle.
Some super-powered individuals could breathe Fire.
And then what?
It was just like carrying a flamethrower around.
Is that so impressive?
Flamingo admitted that there were indeed a few super-powered individuals who could be a one-man army, but 99% of super-powered individuals couldn't withstand a well-trained armed squad.
Why do politicians always clamor to imprison and eliminate Mutants?
It shows that they are not as terrifying as advertised on television.
As for the destruction caused by Mutants... do you know how many villages in the Middle East and Africa have simply 'mysteriously' disappeared from the map for oil and mineral resources?
It's nothing more than a means for U.S. politicians to manipulate people's hearts and public opinion with fear for votes.
Many thoughts, actually just a split second.
Flamingo pulled the trigger without hesitation.
Boom!
Amidst the violent explosion, the helicopter remained intact and continued to ascend.
"Blocked it?!"
Flamingo was so surprised he bit his tongue, the pain clearing his head.
"Buffalo!" Flamingo roared.
Another duty of an observer is to protect the shooter. Buffalo also didn't understand why the helicopter hadn't fallen in the brilliant explosion. Hearing Flamingo's roar, he directly raised his prepared automatic rifle.
A figure fell from the sky, but the smoke from the explosion obscured his vision.
Da da da...
Buffalo fired a burst of bullets, probably knowing he hit nothing, and stopped wasting bullets, instead aiming his gun at the predicted landing spot.
Da da da...
The moment Mike landed, Buffalo fired again, emptying his magazine. But Mike's forward roll before landing caused all the bullets to fall behind him.
The landing spot was only twenty meters from the two of them.
While Buffalo was changing magazines, Flamingo pulled out his pistol, working in perfect coordination.
"Puff!"
"Ah!"
After only two shots, Flamingo felt a chill on his wrist, and intense pain struck him violently.
The gun fell to the ground, along with the hand that held it.
The cut was clean, exposing white bone, and blood spurted out.
Mike severed Flamingo's forearm with one slash, then spun and slashed Buffalo.
"Bulletproof vest? Heh heh~"
The feel was wrong, so Mike immediately increased his force.
Turning the slash into a smash.
Bang!
Buffalo was like being hit by a speeding train, flying back five or six meters. While in the air, he spewed blood wildly, losing consciousness before he even landed.
"Hmm?"
Seeing Flamingo endure the intense pain and pull out his machete, Mike felt this person was at least a tough guy.
"I advise you to bandage it first, otherwise..."
Before he finished speaking, Flamingo slashed at him.
"Rude!"
Mike skillfully flicked the machete away, and it spun in the air. As it fell, Mike caught it with one hand.
"Good blade."
This was a Busse Battle Mistress M combat machete, a POW execution blade, with a total length of 41.5 centimeters. Its chopstick-long blood groove was intimidating. With the signing of the Geneva Conventions, the POW blade exited the historical stage, becoming a collector's item for military enthusiasts.
Puff!
Mike threw the machete, and the blade sank into Flamingo's thigh, causing the latter to fall to the ground.
Mike said, "I didn't intend to kill you. Why are you in such a hurry to die?"
Flamingo lay on his back, staring intently at Mike, and said, "If the mission fails, either we die on the spot, or we're silenced afterward. We're both dead for sure."
"Even if you keep quiet, it won't work?"
"If you were the employer, would you believe it? Would you dare to take the risk?"
"You're right." Mike stroked his chin. "But you could strike first, betray your employer first."
Flamingo was silent.
Mike took out bandages and helped Flamingo bandage the severed wrist, sighing, "Don't tell me you would never betray your employer; I don't believe it. Is it for your family? You're right, for people like you who do dirty work, who would dare to use you without some leverage in the employer's hands."
"It's laughable. For money, you wantonly slaughter wives' husbands, children's mothers, and innocent children on someone else's land. Do you even deserve to talk about faith and family?"
"Your employer will harm your family. Why do you think my employer won't? Some people have lost their most precious things. You don't know what they will do, even if they were originally kind people. I'm very willing to give your employer a discount price to do this. In fact, you don't need to do it yourself, right? Just reveal your family's information to your enemies. You have many enemies, don't you? I believe they would be very willing to treat your family just as you treated the elderly, women, and children in this land."
Mike spoke calmly, as if he were making small talk.
"You dare... you can't do that!" Flamingo's eyes were bloodshot.
"When an avalanche occurs, no single snowflake is innocent. Why can't I do this?" Mike smiled. "Hypocrite!"
Mike's smile was like a demon in Flamingo's eyes.
"Your employer can't trust you unconditionally, and I'm sure you don't trust him either. You must have preparations, right, a way to ensure your employer won't harm your family after your death."
Flamingo remained silent.
Mike didn't mind, and said gently, "So, how about we start with who your employer is?"
"Obadiah Stane!"
After an intense ideological struggle, Flamingo finally spoke.