Black Darapanan Night
Upon confirming Murad's death, Karim clenched his jaw so hard that blood began to seep through his tightly pressed lips. His entire body trembled with a violent, uncontrollable rage. He balled his hands into white-knuckled fists.
Karim and Murad had never gotten along. They had clashed on almost everything. Yet, despite their constant friction, Karim had loved the man. He had looked up to Murad as a father. Their disagreements were nothing more than the typical, everyday conflicts between a father and a son—a headstrong son who couldn't understand his father's cautious ways, and a weary father frustrated by his son's impatience. It was a dynamic found in families all over the world, and they were no different. Karim had constantly argued that diplomacy was not enough, that they needed to take a harder, more aggressive stance. Murad, in turn, would patiently try to guide him back. Some days, Murad's stubborn moderation drove Karim mad; other days, he found himself understanding the older man's wisdom. They had never fully seen eye to eye, but they had never hated each other. Instead, they had deeply cared for and protected one another. It was one of the core reasons the Bangsamoro Liberation Front (BLF) had managed to survive for so long.
And now, that very same Murad had been shot down. Assassinated by a sniper rifle.
Among all the local rebel factions, Abu Sayyaf was the only group capable of procuring such high-caliber sniper weapons. There was no doubt in Karim's mind. Amir had killed Murad.
He immediately assembled a team. A ten-man suicide squad tasked with hunting down Amir. Ten of their absolute elite stood ready, waiting for the order to march, sworn to end Amir's life at all costs, no matter what. The operation was code-named Maut—the Arabic word for death. It was a grim vow that only death would bring this mission to a close.
Was it absolutely certain that Amir was the killer? It didn't matter. This was the perfect excuse to eliminate their bitter rival once and for all. Besides, at the suspected sniper nest, they had found seeds of a fruit unique to Abu Sayyaf's territory. It was a rare, expensive cherry-like fruit grown only in their region. Because it was easy to carry, the Abu Sayyaf fighters kept it on hand as a frequent snack. The sniper must have munched on them while waiting for the target, spitting out the seeds, which the BLF scouts eventually uncovered. That was proof enough. And even if it wasn't, it didn't change a thing.
Karim had wanted to lead the squad himself, but his men held him back.
"You cannot go, sir. With Murad gone, you must remain here to lead us."
"He is right. Leaving the base now is out of the question."
"We cannot let you walk into such danger."
"Your duty now, Karim, is to stay here and keep our people calm."
Yielding to their desperate pleas, he had no choice but to send the ten chosen operatives on their own. To them, too, Murad had been a father, a friend, and a mentor. They would gladly throw their lives away to avenge him. And so, in the late afternoon, the ten-man squad departed the base to hunt down Amir. With the squad gone, all Karim could do was wait.
***
"Still no word from them?"
"I'm sorry, sir. I will try contacting them again."
"No, leave it. They'll call."
Twelve hours had passed since the squad's departure, yet there was only silence. By now, they should have eliminated Amir and returned to base, but there was no news. A dark, ominous dread crept into Karim's chest. He tried to shake off the grim thoughts plaguing his mind as he waited. They will return. They have to.
Just then, a white box truck approached slowly from the distance, flying a white flag. Karim bolted outside, and a crowd of fighters surged out after him. The truck crawled to a halt, and the driver thrust both hands out of the window.
"Don't shoot! I'm unarmed! I'm just a delivery driver!" the man screamed. "In the back... in the cargo hold! There's a delivery for you!"
With the driver's hands still raised, the BLF fighters rushed to the rear of the truck and threw open the cargo doors. *Screeech.* As the heavy doors swung open, they revealed the ten brave operatives who had set out to claim Amir's head. They were now nothing but cold, lifeless corpses piled together. The sight paralyzed everyone in shock. Karim stood frozen, his breath catching in his throat.
Suddenly, a phone began to ring. The sound echoed from deep within the pile of bodies. Karim stepped forward and fished out the ringing device.
"Hello?"
— "Ah, you answered. I take it the delivery arrived safely?"
"Amir?"
— "Oh, you recognize my voice? I'm honored."
"Did you kill my men?"
— "Well... technically, yes, but also no? My boys did the actual shooting, so does that mean I didn't do it? How does one phrase this? Did I do it, or did I not?"
Amir's nonchalant tone pushed Karim's fury past its breaking point.
"You son of a... motherfucker!"
— "Whoa, whoa. Calm down. I'm the victim here, you know. I was minding my own business when you sent a hit squad to murder me. If anyone has a right to be angry, it's me, not you."
"You killed Murad!"
— "I already told you, I didn't. I didn't kill Murad. I didn't particularly like the man, but I didn't hate him enough to murder him either. You've got it all wrong."
"Why the hell would I believe a word you say?"
— "Believe what you want, but it's a bit frustrating to be falsely accused."
"Save your excuses for hell! Just wait—I'm going to come over there and rip your throat out myself!"
— "Ah, right! That's actually why I called. You trying to assassinate me made me a little upset. My first instinct was to wipe you all out, but we are fellow Muslims, after all. We shouldn't be shedding each other's blood. So, I'm going to offer you a chance."
"A chance?"
— "Yes. Your final chance to survive. You and the BLF surrender immediately and submit to Abu Sayyaf. That is my condition."
"Bwahahaha! Have you lost your mind?"
— "I think you're the one who's lost it. We've had countless opportunities to crush the BLF by force, yet we held back. For one reason only: we are brothers in faith. And now, in accordance with the teachings of Allah, I am showing immense mercy by forgiving the man who tried to kill me. You should think very carefully about this."
"Cut the bullshit, you crazy bastard."
— "My, what a foul mouth. But because I am generous, I will give you until midnight tonight. If I don't hear that you're surrendering and offering the BLF to me by then, I will truly erase you from the face of this earth."
"My answer now, and at midnight, will always be a resounding NO, you piece of shit! Do whatever the hell you want while you still can, because once you're dead, you won't get another chance. I'm coming to kill you soon."
— "I'll be waiting. But when exactly are you coming? I feel like it would be much faster if I just came to you."
"Come or don't, it doesn't matter. Your death is set in stone."
***
Hanging up the phone, Amir fell into deep thought. He was genuinely furious. Sending people to kill me? Ten of them, no less? If it hadn't been for the mole he had planted inside the BLF, he would have been caught completely off guard. It was an entirely unexpected move. While the Abu Sayyaf and the BLF constantly growled at each other, they had never bared their claws like this. Someone was clearly pulling the strings, driving a wedge between them. He hadn't killed Murad, yet the BLF was convinced Abu Sayyaf was responsible.
However, this was also an undeniable opportunity—one far too good to pass up. Murad was dead, and Karim had openly declared war. They had even sent an assassination squad to take Amir's head. On top of that, there was the gold mine. The justification was entirely on Amir's side now. Even if Abu Sayyaf struck the BLF first, no one could blame them. The more he thought about it, the more he realized this was his moment. Crushing the BLF was easy enough, but opportunities to do so with absolute justification were rare. If he didn't swallow the BLF now, there was no telling when another chance would come.
Amir made his decision.
"All units, prepare for battle."
***
If your enemy's combat power is ten, and yours is a hundred, how much of your strength should you commit to the fight? Twenty percent? Fifty percent? No. One hundred percent. You must unleash your full might. Only then will the battle end swiftly, minimizing your own casualties and maximizing the spoils of war. Whenever a conflict arose, Amir's doctrine was to pour in every single available resource to secure a victory in the shortest time possible. This time would be no different. He would deploy his entire force, ending the battle in the blink of an eye through overwhelming superiority.
To ensure they wouldn't run short on arms or ammunition, he had even purchased additional gear from the local arms dealer. Since Amir had always received his weapons directly from his international backers, he hadn't realized black market arms were so expensive, but now was not the time to pinch pennies. Amir was fully prepared.
***
Karim paced around the perimeter of the BLF base, preparing for the impending clash. He had told Amir to wait, but launching an offensive was practically impossible. Guerrilla warfare aimed at assassinating Amir was one thing, but in a head-on, full-scale battle, the BLF stood absolutely no chance. And the assassination attempt had already failed. The ten-man squad had returned as cold corpses. He couldn't use the same tactic twice; Amir would be on high alert now.
If anything, Amir would use this failed attempt as a pretext to launch an invasion. They had to prepare for that. Karim ordered his men to stockpile supplies and maintain a state of emergency. They barricaded the entry points and doubled the guards. He had also purchased weapons from the local arms dealer, which had recently changed ownership. The prices were steep, but under the circumstances, he had no other choice. Still, he couldn't help but find it bizarre that the dealer insisted on being paid in something called Candy Coin. What a strange fellow.
***
"Boss, we have word that Abu Sayyaf has finished their preparations."
"Is that so?"
Dennis had arrived early in the morning to deliver the report.
"Yes, sir. Everything is set, and they are currently waiting for the order to march."
"And what about the New People's Army? Did you look into their movements?"
"According to our intelligence, they've retreated even deeper into hiding. Fearing they might get caught in the crossfire of this clash of giants, they've halted all external operations and gone completely dark."
"So we don't have to worry about the NPA stabbing us in the back. Excellent. Let's get ready to move."
"Our preparations are nearly complete as well, boss."
"Good. Make sure everyone is ready to roll out at a moment's notice. We have a lot of work to do over there."
We had been preparing for this battle for a very long time. In fact, we had been preparing longer than either Abu Sayyaf or the BLF. After all, we were the ones who had set the board and drawn up the plans. We were the ones who had instigated the feud and shaken their foundations. While everything was moving according to our grand design, we had briefly struggled with a lack of granular, real-time intelligence. Fortunately, the rebels' decision to buy weapons from us solved that problem, allowing us to extract their exact operational plans and movements. Of course, we had coaxed them into sharing by offering a bogus 'consultation' on their weapon configurations.
The two hundred soldiers of the Damaya were now fully armed and ready. Each man carried an assault rifle slung over his shoulder and a pistol strapped to his hip. The trucks at the rear were loaded to the brim with 60mm and 81mm mortars. The forces were divided into distinct tactical units: Red Team was the frontline assault force; Blue Team was the fire support unit tasked with pounding the enemy from the rear with mortars; and Green Team was responsible for rigging the enemy's retreat paths with explosives. We would ensure that not a single soul engaged in this war would escape alive. Thus, the operation was code-named Ibada—the Arabic word for eradication.
***
We took up positions on the outskirts of the BLF territory, launching drones high into the sky to monitor the situation.
"Abu Sayyaf is on the move. Estimated time of arrival at the BLF base is one hour."
"Understood. Keep monitoring and report any changes."
"Yes, sir."
Green Team, tasked with rigging the retreat routes, had split off from the main force and was waiting near the access roads. Once Abu Sayyaf entered the valley, they would plant the explosives behind them. No one was leaving this place alive.
"Thirty minutes until arrival."
We tracked the enemy's coordinates via drone, keeping a close eye on their advance.
"Mortars are deployed and aligned. Ready to fire on your command."
"Explosives are primed."
"All units, stand by."
***
Amir was leading his entire army toward the BLF stronghold. The Abu Sayyaf forces were exceptionally well-armed, their equipment top-tier. They even had armored personnel carriers in their convoy. A massive column of men marched relentlessly toward the BLF.
***
A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the BLF stronghold. They knew. They knew Abu Sayyaf was coming. Every fighter held their breath at their designated posts, waiting for the signal. Some lay in dugouts, completely camouflaged, while others secured sniper nests high up on the ridges. This was the BLF's home turf. No one could walk in here and expect to leave unscathed. Today, they would teach the arrogant Abu Sayyaf a lesson they would never forget.
"Abu Sayyaf spotted. Three kilometers out."
"They've advanced to the two-kilometer mark."
"One kilometer out, they are—"
*BOOM!*
Before the scout could even finish his report, Amir's armored vehicles opened fire, unleashing a devastating barrage. It was a declaration of war, a brutal statement that he had no intention of giving the BLF time to prepare. And so, the war between Abu Sayyaf and the Bangsamoro Liberation Front began. A conflict that history would forever remember as the Black Darapanan Night.