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Army of Scum: Chapter 4

  There was a good thing about hiring scum from every corner of the Earth. They were abundant, they reproduced naturally, and no one would care if some disappeared overnight. Not even the mothers of bastards would shed a tear if their children die. Noone would, truth be told.

  Most armies throughout history were made up of dreads of society and those who were willing to pick up a weapon to kill their fellow human. Cheap too, if you knew where to go and who was worth your time. Mercs also don’t follow the same rules as any conventional army would normally follow. Just throw cash at them and hope they act morally.

  However, the problem with outsourcing bastards was you had to teach them a few things. The tools of modern murder were far more complex and demanding than most people realised. Not every gun functioned the same way, and sometimes they functioned better under the right circumstances. ProTech made the best guns on the market, but not everyone had the chance to use them in their free time. They needed to practice.

  So, to save time and potential headaches. They drove Mark and a few mercs out to the shooting range in black, unmarked cars. A bit over the top for Mark’s liking, but he didn’t mind at all. All it meant was the company he was employed by wanted to do their best to keep things quiet and out of the public eye. Expected, as being known to hire hitmen and death squads was not something PR wanted to deal with.

  Once they arrived at the range. ProTech employees took the mercs to where they stored their MS44 Battle Rifle so they could test it out and get a feel for the weapon. It was the company’s flagship battle rifle, something they wanted to pitch to every military.

  To Mark, that wasn’t the case. The weapon was an overpriced and oversized piece of junk. For a rifle designed for the average grunt, the weapon is heavy and big. Even with the benefit of having a larger calibre, a decent magazine size, and a built-in dot sight. He couldn’t see it being viable for militaries like the United States or China. Countries where precision was key in engaging with enemy combatants might prefer it, but even then. The price for the piece of equipment is ludicrous. Mark recognised the gun for what it was, a luxury weapon of war rather than a viable tool of killing.

  But he knew he was being unfair to a weapon he hadn’t tested out. After feeling around the weapon and digging his finger around the inner compartments to get an understanding of its mechanisms without taking the gun apart. He joined the line for the range with the other mercs. All eager to test out their new piece of expensive equipment.

  ‘What’ll you get? 40% accuracy?’ One of the mercs said to their mate.

  ‘Nah, 80 max. Unlike you, I can actually hit my target.’ It was a lie, but no one spoke up about it. Mark could tell he only managed to get 37%

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  Mark smiled as everyone chimed into the conversation. It didn’t take long for someone to place bets on themselves. Seeing this, Mark decided to step out and make his way to the back of the line. Just to see how everyone would fare with the new weapon in their hand. It was unfair, downright cruel. However, he wanted to give them some hope. It would also give him a chance to read the manual and do some calculations on the side.

  After the tenth person, people gathered around like children to spectate. Heckling at the next shooter and laughing every time they missed their target. They passed money around and gambled on whatever score the shooter would make. Those who had no interest in wasting money analyse from the sides to see who to recruit into their team. Even in the business of murder, killers had to act as private contractors. Not every merc or hitman could kill or risk their own skin for a quick buck. Sometimes, it would be best to hire a desperate idiot to do the job for you and lose a portion of the money.

  But to Mark, he didn’t want to prove his worth. He already knew what he was capable of and didn’t care about the opinion of his peers. What he wanted to do was prove that he was a better marksman. When the last person went to the range, the highest score was about 73% accuracy with a grouping of 42 millimetres. A durable

  As he lay down and aimed down at his sight. He smirked as he fired his first couple of shots. He figured he just needed to fire five times to get a score and an average grouping that he desired. 74% accuracy with a grouping of 41 millimetres. However, that wouldn’t convince anyone of anything, as everyone else shot at least 30 times. So, to make a point, he kept shooting at the same spot to maintain his score without deviating. It wasn't hard to get at least 90% when he had a proper feel of the gun. But breaking the score to him by one point was just too damn funny.

  Eagle eyed mercs noticed what Mark was doing. He didn’t just disrupt the entire betting pool, but also made everyone else incompetent compared to him. Even compared to mercs with decades of experience, he was a total pro with a rifle. One that he had no experience in using.

  Though the rifle shot well and it absorbed the recoil of every shot. He knew it would be best to spend some money on different equipment than the MS44 Battle Rifle. He needed something that could pack a punch while also making it easy for him to manoeuvre around in case he got too close to the target. To him, the Remington MSR was a good pick for the job.

  ‘Well, that was interesting.’ He said after returning the rifle to the range officer.

  With a grin, he turned to the other mercs, knowing some would be interested in working with him to track down their intended target. ‘Now, who here wants to talk business?’

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