Mark was proud of getting two well-placed shots into the reptile. However, that didn’t stop him from running for his life to the third floor to hide. Some mercs were up there, but they didn’t bother setting up defensive positions. When Mark opened the door, a guy pointed a gun at his face and gestured for him to go elsewhere, which Mark humbly complied with. The last thing he wanted to do was get killed by those on his side.

  ‘Come on, think!’ he mumbled to himself, trying to find the best spot to hide or at least escape the reptile. Mark knew he couldn’t outrun Jackson or be in a closed-off area like the building’s office and laboratory compartments. Which left him with the last possible spot to hunker down and possibly survive, the rooftop.

  However, that would require the reptile to be further injured or tired out if he wanted to survive. Neatly, Mark placed grenades and flash bangs along the window frames with the strikers pointing towards him. After setting up his trap, he crouched at the corner near the staircase to the roof, where he would have a good view of the grenades and have an exit when he needed to bug out.

  While he wouldn’t have any view of the hallway, he would have to rely on shadows and the reflection from the glass to determine the right moment to strike. The idea was for the reptile to get into the detonation zone and hopefully wound him once Mark shot at the grenade striker and detonated the explosive. Risky, but better than just running away. He needed every advantage at his disposal.

  Screams echoed across the building, followed by the crunch of bone. Shots rang throughout the complex, causing Mark to shiver to his core at how fast Jackson was going from person to person to kill them most brutally. He wondered how on earth Jackson could move so fast and just keep going, what sort of cruel experiment would’ve created such horror. When he leapt over that fence and ran around in the yard, lobbing grenades and going person to person. He was a blur that even Mark struggled to get a clean shot. A fast-moving target that moved erratically from point to point.

  The rapid fire of a machine gun snapped Mark out of his thoughts, making him focus on the grenades and keep still. He counted his breathing while he pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth to keep his rifle stable in his hands. A trick he learned when he was a kid, fighting in a war created by men. In a way, the situation reminded him of his first war. A scared child needing to hide while also ready to kill at any moment. There was no point in pretending to be brave in the face of a true horror, which took its time killing anyone it found in the building.

  As the screaming and fighting stopped, the world went quiet. The only things Mark could hear were the ambient rain outside and his own breath. Controlled and calm, despite his building anxiety. He tried to listen for any other sounds, an indication that Jackson was there, but there were none. All there was to hear were his thoughts, which even they were silent. Mark, from what he could understand, was all alone. Or so he thought.

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  Mark flinched as a steel rod went through the wall, narrowly missing his head by inches before embedding into the wall in front of him. Energy surged through his body as Mark jumped out of his hiding spot, thinking Jackson was just behind that wall and had only thrown that pipe to weaken the structure to jump out and kill him.

  Then, he saw the reptile. Walking down the hallway, drenched in blood, his hands covered in bone fragments, with the left side of his face bleeding blue blood. Thinking fast, Mark let go of his main rifle and reached for his Smith & Wesson Model 60, taking aim and shooting at the grenade near the window.

  However, without the safety of the cover he was driven out of, and severely underestimated the grenade's blast radius. Caught in the blast, Mark was flung back and knocked back hard while a metal wire from one of the grenades lacerated his forehead. On the other end, Jackson was thrown into the other room, taking the brunt of the force. It didn’t help that the flashbang also went off and temporarily blinded both of the killers.

  With a splitting headache, Mark groaned as he rolled on the ground. His ears rang while his eyes stung, making him unable to see anything. Mark struggled to lift himself, rubbing his eyes with one hand while the other searched around the ground for his prized revolver. Which, luckily for him, he had found. With a sigh of relief, Mark smiled, believing that his father’s gun was the best lucky charm he had ever gotten.

  When his vision slowly returned to him, Mark grunted as he made it back onto his feet. Coughing and wheezing as he felt the pain from surviving a grenade. Compared to taking a grenade up close to being far worse than being run over by a truck, both of which he had now experienced.

  But with possibly a few broken bones, a headache which might secretly be brain damage, and a tinge of pride. He slowly made his way upstairs. Mark wasn’t sure Jackson was dead. He hoped it was the case, but he didn’t want to see if it was. All that mattered was that he made it to the roof. There, he might be able to be spotted by ProTech, and they could provide him with immediate medical care.

  Then, crawling back onto his feet, and pushed rubble out of the way. Jackson emerged, covered in dust and his own blood. The front of Jackson’s scales split open and peeled away to reveal blue meat underneath. The assassin and the reptile locked eyes, both hunters tired and wounded, but still alive and willing to kill.

  ‘Oh, fuck off.’ Mark mumbled, watching as Jackson reattached his dislocated lower jaw before rushing to the roof of the building. That would be where he made his final stand. He could only pray to Allah that the grenade trap would injure Jackson enough for him to survive the coming battle.