They knew where the reptile went after they engaged in a little skirmish out in the woods. He was injured, low on ammo, and they believed Jackson was on his last legs.

  Sure, their target might’ve killed ten of their guys a little while ago. But that just meant that there were ten fewer people to split the reward with. That would be a few hundred million in their pockets.

  As two armoured cars pulled up into the diner. They all hopped out and got into positions. They aimed their rifles, shotguns, and SMGs at the building. He was there. A popular local diner shouldn’t be closed during that part of the day.

  One merc signalled for four guys to head to the back of the diner with the idea that they would flank Jackson and attack him from all angles. The mercs at the back of the diner ready themselves, counting to ten before rushing inside in search of their target. Instead of finding him, they entered an empty kitchen. One of them noticed that the oven was turned on and quickly turned it off. Soon after, the men from the front rushed inside to provide some assistance.

  ‘Keep your eyes peeled,’ one of the mercs said over the radio. ‘Bastard shouldn’t be too far. Find him, kill him, and we’ll all get paid.’

  The clang of boots echoed throughout the diner. Mercs frantically searching every corner with their weapons at the ready. Using the end of their weapons to open doors and even cupboard drawers to find the reptile. They found his blood and some of his weapons, proof that he was there and that he was close.

  Yet, nothing. None of them were able to locate Jackson. Even the satellite was constantly tracking and the people at the command centre in Florida kept saying that the reptile was still inside the building and had not been seen leaving. The soldiers on the ground were unlucky to find him. It was as if he had disappeared.

  There were tales of old about monsters who hid behind every shadow. Fairy tales' mothers would tell their children to discourage them from going outside during the dead of night. That above every tree, at the corner of your eye, and under every piece of dirt they walked on was something evil which prayed on the weak. They don’t know what Jackson was, but I do. The silent monster of the dark, a butcher of horror.

  One merc stood right under Jackson as he hid himself in the roof. The reptile grits his teeth as he burst through the roof to fall on top of the merc to crack his skull open with his hammer.

  Before Jackson could leap to the next one, to tear out his throat with his mouth. A merc raised their shotgun and shot the reptile in the stomach. But doing so ignited the gas that leaked in the kitchen. Creating a fireball that coated anyone in a blanket of flame and knocking everyone else outside of the kitchen back.

  The soldiers swore, trying to gain their bearings as half of the diner lit up in flames. Though as they tried to gain their bearings. Jackson walked out. Fire danced around the reptile’s body, flames clung to his scales like glue and refused to get off. He bled, his stomach had a gaping wound exposed for all to see. But he doesn’t flinch or show signs of anguish. Jackson stood over them, bearing his fangs while he held onto his hammer tightly.

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  A merc aimed their rifle, but before he could pull the trigger, Jackson grabbed his revolver from under the counter and blew his brains out. Painting the wall with their pulp. Everyone scrambled and tried to take a shot at him, only for their attacks to be ineffective. Before they could realise that they were in a trap of his own design. It was too late.

  Furious, quick, and agile. Jackson ducked and weaved between merc, breaking limbs and redirecting their shots into their allies before being disemboweled. He wanted them to die horrible deaths and for their corpses to be used as examples. With his bare hands, he smashed skulls, tore their spines and ribs out of them, and had their throat bitten out. All in an attempt to mutilate and break their spirits.

  Some were lucky to wound Jackson and cause him to bleed. One was even brave enough to pull a knife on Jackson. Unfortunately, the reptile grabbed the knife from him and jammed it into his right lung to collapse it.

  None of them understood the creature they were fighting against. It was easier to strike him from afar and wound him with bullets. However, up close, that was a different story. There was no amount of training or experience that could help them overpower their foe. For Jackson was around when the first person mastered the art of butchering a fellow human with a knife, and he learned from them.

  ‘Fuck this!’ One of them screamed and ran outside. Heading to the armoured car to make a daring escape. However, before he could get in the armoured car. He collapsed to the ground as Jackson shot the lower half of his back with a shotgun.

  The merc coughed blood, he tried to crawl his way inside only for the reptile to grab him and toss him to the ground. Jackson wanted to look into the merc’s eyes and see the man who dared hunt him down.

  ‘Please, have mercy!’ The merc begged, quivering at the monster bleeding blue blood standing over him.

  Jackson didn’t care to respond or say anything to the dying man. He knew more would come after him and they would escalate their tactics against him. It was unacceptable! They were all hired by the man Jackson was hunting and trying their best to kill him or slow him down.

  So, he raised his shotgun to the merc’s face and made an example out of him. Mercy was never given to him 75 years ago, why should he give it to his foes. No, he preferred one simple message.

  Stay out of his way.