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Pale: Chapter 2

As Mark journeyed south, through snow, bush, and the cold winds that kissed his skin. Mark didn’t bother holding his weapon at the ready, because he didn’t think he would encounter the monster he was hunting.

‘Tell me, Frank. Why wouldn’t Jackson do this mission, or at least join me?’

Mark frowned as he heard Frank chuckle through the earpiece. ‘Well, he is a reptile, and he doesn’t fare well in the cold.’

‘Bullshit!’ Mark spat, ‘he went to Sweden last year. He can definitely handle the cold.’

‘I suppose, but that doesn’t remove the fact that he is what he is. Even with the enchanted trench coats that keep him warm and regulate his body temperature, he still isn’t in his best shape when he is out there in the cold tundra.’

Mark rolled his eyes at Frank’s response. ‘He would still be a better fit than I. Isn’t the reptile like a gifted hunter or something? Regardless if he is cold-blooded, the guy can still do it.’

‘Weren't you an assassin before? Or were you just a merc with a fancy name stamped on your resume?’ Frank retorted, knowing well that Mark was just making excuses just so he could get back home sooner.

‘I tracked down people, not monsters. I like to believe there is a difference between the two.’

‘There is, but you are still good enough for the job.’ Frank replied after the familiar pop of a wine bottle opening could be heard through the earpiece. ‘Don’t take it as an insult or anything, the Order thinks you are capable of the mission and so does Jackson.’

Mark scoffed, ‘good enough? That doesn’t give me any confidence.’

‘You are also the guy who killed the last yeti.’ Frank argued before he gulped his drink. ‘So, you do have success against you.’

‘Fine, I’ll buy that excuse.’ Mark laughed to himself. Though he couldn’t fathom how the Order would think he was competent enough or on the same level as Jackson. His specialty was killing people at a distance, not tracking down a monster through and around Alaska. But he knew better than to complain, though he wished Jackson would hire more members to join the unit so they could do those sorts of missions instead of him.

As he continued down the mountain, he found a cabin in the woods. He went inside to find the place ransacked, cupboards opened, broken glass and ceramic all over the floor, and the door to the bedroom was torn off its hinges revealing a dried bloodstain on the wooden floor at the centre of the room.

Mark groaned as he set his rifle down on the kitchen bench, knowing well that he had possibly stumbled on the aftermath of a massacre. ‘Well, I found a cabin. But I think the monster got here at one point.’ Mark said into his earpiece.

‘That’s good! That means you can get the monster there.’ Frank enthusiastically replied.

‘English dickhead,’ Mark mumbled to himself before he talked to Frank. ‘I suppose, but I don’t like the place. I think I can set up proximity sensors and hunker down for the night.’

Frank gave a low chuckle that sounded to Mark like he was about to make a smart-ass joke. ‘I am glad you came up with the idea of putting up sensors so the creature won’t tear you apart at night. I see why Jackson chose you out of the hundreds of candidates offered to him.’

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‘At least I am chosen for my skills.’ Mark spat as he set up his defences. ‘Why did you join the unit, anyway? You don’t go on missions, so what gives?’

‘Well, as you know, I am a chemist and an engineer by trade. Jackson needs someone who can make modifications to certain weapons so he can best perform on his missions. I am even a qualified gunsmith.’

‘Well, remind me next time when I return to base to make me a modified Mk 13 MOD 7 that should be coming out this month. I will be a happy man.’ Mark said, believing that Frank or even the Order could even get the latest weaponry that had recently come out.

‘I’ll see what I can do. You’ll get the rifle by the time you get back and we can talk about what you want me to do with it.’ Frank’s reply made Mark pause for a moment, only shaking his head so he could continue his work.

‘Tell me, Mr Creed. How do you know Jackson, and why is he always grumpy?’

Frank sighed, ‘it’s a long story, kid.’

‘Well, I am out here for a long ass time.’ Mark replied before he made his way to the bedroom, resting his back against a wall with his rifle in hand.

‘No, I think you are underestimating it. Jackson and I went way back, before you two even met.’

‘Ah, so you knew him 75 years ago.’ Mark mocked, thinking Frank was pulling his leg. ‘You look damn good for your age, aren’t you meant to be 30?’

‘I did,’ Frank soberly admitted, ignoring the question regarding his age. ‘I think you are aware of some of his history, or at least the relevant chunks of it.’

Mark shrugged as he expected his rifle. ‘I know he wanted to kill a guy who I think killed his wife or had something to do with it. I looked over his file, but it’s dense and most of it is blacked out. So all I got was he retired, someone hated him, and he got revenge.’

‘So, he didn’t tell you much?’

‘I doubt he would tell anyone anything.’ Mark commented, ‘what I can say is he saved my life, we made a deal, and now I got a job here.’

Frank chuckled, ‘so you two became “friends” because he helped you?’

‘It is hard to not become friends when we were both fucked over by the same guy.’ Out of boredom, Mark stripped his rifle to clean it. ‘Besides, I needed to lay low for a while and this gig is offering me a lot of money. Might even retire early.’

‘And here I thought I won you over with my charms.’ Frank sarcastically replied. ‘Still, don’t be too hard on Jackson. The reptile is unpleasant, but he’ll get better. He had just been through a lot.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll wish him the best and whatever. He’s a good boss and I doubt he would screw me over, even if he gives me the creeps sometimes.’

‘Well, maybe in a few years, he will start making jokes again.’ Frank burped after he drank the rest of his wine. ‘But for now, focus on the mission. If you kill the monster, I’ll buy you a beer.’

Mark smiled as he resembled his rifle, determined to kill the monster he was hunting for some cheap beer. ‘I’ll call you when I see the damn thing.’