He could go to the second floor. Charge in to continue his rampage and slaughter them to the last. An argument could be made that Jackson could simply walk away from his engagement, making his point and shattering the hearts of the last remaining mercenaries in the facility. However, he wouldn’t leave the job unfinished. They all had to die.

  Jackson quickly checked his wounds. Fortunately for him, there was a lot more red blood compared to his blue. Though some scales were split open and oozing blue blood, his injuries were surprisingly minimal and did not require immediate attention. Not like he had to, as he didn’t have a lot of time in the facility or bring any medical equipment with him.

  Then, his heart clenched, releasing a sharp pain throughout his body. Its once rapid beating slowed to a normal rhythm, something his body struggled to adapt to. The drug was wearing off, and he needed a place to recover. Jackson snuck into a room and hid in the corner. Taking a series of deep breaths and rubbing the napalm jelly off his scales as the immediate withdrawals crashed through his entire body.

  His knees shook, ready to buckle at any moment. Meanwhile, his hands shook while his stomach churned. Not wanting to give out his position, he placed a hand over his mouth and silently puked into the hit. Smearing the dark green bile on the wall beside him to take a few more deep breaths and leaving a bitter aftertaste.

  Rage was an effective combat enhancement, but the immediate withdrawal from the user had to go through would always be rough. Fatigue would kick in, making the user want to stop fighting and take a break. A luxury Jackson couldn’t afford. He rummaged through his tattered belt and pants and pulled out the last surviving vial of Rage. The needle was bent out of shape, and the drug was most likely not as effective or potent due to being coated in napalm. However, it would be good enough; it would still give him the boost of energy necessary to kill those still alive upstairs. All he had to do was be quick about it.

  After he slammed the bent needle into his neck and violently yanked it out. Jackson’s mouth drooled again, his heart racing once more for the thrill of murder. Jackson rushed out of his hiding spot for the stairs to the second floor while picking up two bodies. He was low on weapons, but that didn’t mean he was limited to the resources he brought.

  There was an idea in every military. If it made sense for someone to do something, they wouldn’t be there. People would think it would make sense for a sniper to be at the top of a tower, so they would always look there first and take out anything hiding in the tower. It would make sense to set up a sentry point overlooking a road behind some bushes, which means that before crossing, people will look there to determine if it is safe. The concept was that if it made sense for you to do something because it was advantageous, it would also mean the enemy would know you were there.

  Jackson figured the mercs would have most of their guys overlooking the windows or other points of entry, as it would be suicidal for him to go for the stairs. They knew he could jump over the fence; it wouldn’t be hard to jump up to the second floor and climb in. Instead, he chose to do the unexpected and go up the stairs.

  As he got there, Jackson threw the two corpses onto the roof of the stairs. Turning their bodies into a thick mist of red, concealing his figure as he leapt through a rain of blood to rush onto the second floor. Before the machine gun nest could figure out what was going on, the first hail of bullets failed to prevent Jackson from jumping into a lab. Unable to prevent the reptile from crashing into a merc in the laboratory and slicing his throat open with his claws.

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  Before the lifeless body could hit the ground, Jackson picked up the merc’s body and chucked it through a wall. Creating an opening for him to run in, bypassing the security of the machine gun nest and forcing everyone to confront the reptile up close. Even though they outnumbered him, they had to combat him where he was at his best. Close and personal.

  He was a blur, lightning fast as he dispatched them one by one. His speed and strength, enhanced by Rage, made Jackson something horrifying and outwardly. None of them had any chance to stop him. The pain they could inflict on him would only serve as further motivation for him to brutalise them.

  It wasn’t hard to kill any of them with a single punch. However, that would be too easy. A full power kick could liquify their organs; there was no challenge in that. However, he needed to send them a message. He needed them to scream, to suffer. Every strike snapped bones and tore muscles. The reptile would rip out the spine and skull of one person by grabbing their face with its clawed foot and yanking it off. With some others, he would tear out their rib cage. Even then, it was all so easy, too easy. So Jackson decided to go for the option of ripping out someone’s patella and turning it into an improvised shuriken. Surprisingly, even to him, it was effective. Turning the corpses of his foes into weapons, now that was a message to shake even the most devoted of killers.

  He was too fast and too close. Able to dodge attacks and shots fired at him. Many wanted to run away, but he would always get to them to mutilate and disfigure. But he made sure they had the strength to scream before they died. To release the air trapped in their lungs for Jackson to force it out as he saw fit. The world needed to hear their screams and cries for mercy. If Jackson allowed himself to speak or quip at their demise, he would question them as to why they didn’t extend the same courtesy.

  Bang!

  Jackson stumbled forward, his hands covered in blood and in shock. Then, a sting came from his back over his right shoulder. He was shot. Shot!? Furious, he turned to face his foe. A man with short black hair and a square nose racked another round into his rifle. Instinctively, Jackson moved to the side to dodge the next round. However, despite his reaction time and great speed. A round managed to go through the left side of Jackson’s eye socket. Causing his eye to explode while knocking him to the ground. Fortunately for the reptile, the bullet didn’t go through his skull or hit his brain.

  ‘Eat shit, asshole!’ Mark sneered, reading to chamber another round to injure or finish Jackson off.

  Seeing that he was in a bad position, Jackson used his tail and legs to launch himself out of the way and into a different room before Mark could get another shot in. He got out to safety, but it was humiliating! Normally, Jackson would accept that as a callous moment. A probability he would face whenever he got into any sort of combat.

  But the Rage told him otherwise. Those killings meant nothing now! The brutality and message behind them were reduced because of that merc. Jackson had to correct that mistake, and he knew he had to kill him. But this time, he had to be far more tactful. Someone being able to land a hit, even though it wasn’t fatal and only blinded one of his eyes, was someone with immense skill. It could be a lucky hit, but Jackson didn’t think that was the case.

  He didn’t know his name, but he knew that Mark was a hunter. For that, he needed to die.