I'm French-Canadian and a Monster Hunter. That's right, I'm a monster hunter and today is the day that I'm going to die.
This is the story about a young man named Frank. Frank is your average Canadian man. Frank owns and operates his own organic farm in the outskirts of Manitoba. Frank has a few days growth of beard on his face, but it doesn't even bother him much, other than needing the occasional scratch. Frank is a nice guy... except when things go wrong. I found Frank sitting out in his field, pissed because a bunch of kids had ran through and destroyed an entire field of crops in their truck. Frank muttered on about the fact that they were a bunch of redneck punk in a truck. The more he muttered and steamed about the idea, the sadder and more depressed he became. Oh, I should mention that when Frank becomes sad, he turns into Frankenstein... well, actually Frankenstein's Monster. It's almost annoying how people call him Frankenstein, when Frankenstein was actually the mad scientist. The big green guy is Frankenstein's Monster.
"FRANKENSTEIN EMOTIONAL! FRANKENSTEIN SMASH!"
Fear. That's the only thing that I know right now. Back at the C.O.L.D. Headquarters, I watched some grainy video footage of the transformation, and it still didn't prepare me for what I saw. Frank, a bone-thin guy suddenly burst from his clothing (all of them, unfortunately) and turned into a green hulking monster. Not that hulking monster, I've never found that one, but Frank did turn into something similar. Stitch marks ran all along his head, his arms, his legs and around his torso. About 200 years ago, this twisted monster's creator decided to create life by stealing and sewing various body parts together. But he wasn't evil, in fact, he was a simplistic oaf, too dumb to even realize that fire is bad to touch. But the local townsfolk were terrified of him, and they chased him down to kill him, with fire. So he went on a rampage and destroyed half the town, killed half a dozen of the even dumber townsfolk and then fled back to the only home he's ever known: Frankenstein's castle.
The townsfolk burned the castle to the ground, along with Dr. Frankenstein and the Monster... or so they thought. Underneath the castle was a small crawlspace, enough for a few people to hide in. That's where Frankenstein's Monster hid and was subsequently buried by thousands of tons of rocks, dirt and concrete when the castle fell. He stayed there for over 140 years. He didn't need food, water or even air. So the poor monster was left there in that hole until his limbs separated and his stolen brain stopped functioning. That is, until C.O.L.D. stepped in. They helped him with some genetic engineering and after 20 exhaustive years of testing, they found a "cure". Using alien technology from the crashed Roswell spacecraft, they changed him into Frank. They taught him how to read, write, and work. They also taught him how to control his emotions and keep his sadness in check. He's only had a few transformations into the Monster in the past decades, the last time he changed was after he watched the tear-jerker Terms of Endearment. But everyone cries at that movie, so I don't blame the poor bastard.
But now it's up to me. The Monster rushes, lumbering towards me with a fury as tears stream down his green-skinned face. In a panic, I pulled out the weapon that I hand-crafted myself. It is a powerful weapon, one that fires out a cold, arctic blast of air, enough to stagger and stop someone in their tracks.The weapon is my ice gun, and I fire it wildly at Frankenstein. The first five shots miss, freezing plant life and a poor, unfortunate squirrel as well. But the sixth shot hits, freezing him dead in his tracks. I wipe the sweat from my forehead and now walk over to the statuesque, frozen body of Frankenstein. His face is still fixed in that frozen, emotional look right before I froze him. I almost feel pity for the poor soul. But now it was time to do my job.
C.O.L.D. Case # 0001: The Dungeon Master
Days have passed since my last assignment, and now I'm bored. I'm sitting around my room, watching reruns of Saved by the Bell and playing copious amounts of World of Warcraft. I need something more stimulating to do.. and that's when I receive my phone call from the C.O.L.D. Headquarters. Now I have to go to a place called the PWE, the Prestige Wrestling Entertainment. Wait... why is it that I can say, "The PWE" and it sounds okay, but when I say the full name, it doesn't sound right. "The Prestige Wrestling Entertainment". Hmm... it doesn't sound right, but for the meantime, I'll just stick with, "The PWE". The PWE is a professional wrestling federation. Yes, the "fake" kind. But then again, what is fake anymore? I work for a super secret group that the rest of the world knows about, so what do I know?
Well, there is one thing that I do know. I know that I have a target set and I have a mission. His name is The Dungeon Master. According to his C.O.L.D. Case file, he somehow has the ability to control the actions of people in almost any setting. Originally, I scoffed at the idea, but now that I have seen his image, I truly do know fear. The Dungeon Master apparently uses his 6, 10, 15, 3 and 20 sided die as a weapon, I even hear he throws them at his opponents to blind them temporarily. Most importantly, The Dungeon Master is a truly evil man. He has the ability to decide if a person even sees a trap in a room! He is the most deadly sort of monster to hunt, he is a demon!
The PWE has no idea what they are up against. I will try to turn The Dungeon Master to my side, I will try to get him to see the error of his ways and for him to use his demonic powers of persuasion and dice rolling for good. However, if he cannot be turned, then he will be dealt with in the most brutal of fashions. He will be frozen and then sent through a wood chipper, just like I did with Blackbeard! I'd hate to have to take such drastic measures, but I may be let with no alternative.
Now, I hide my ice gun as I hear the door jingle, unlock and open. It's one of those men wearing the white coats again. They are my liaisons to the outside world. They pass me messages from beyond the C.O.L.D. Headquarters. They also realize that I am a deadly, unstoppable, monster hunting machine, and that I am merely staying here to satiate The Director and to do his bidding.
"How are you doing today, Glenn? Did you take your meds this morning?" the Man in the White Coat says to me with a disinterested look on his face..
I nod my head and show them the empty white cup. They don't realize that I've been stockpiling handfuls of medicine into the hole in my mattress for months. But I have to pretend, because if they found out that I wasn't taking the drugs that impede my supernatural abilities, then they would strap me to the table and shock me again. I will not go through that again. But to show that I am a kind man, I even forgive him for using my real name, out loud. They all know my code name, and refuse to use it, for some reason.
"Good! I'll tell The Director that you're progressing well your treatment."
Again, I nod my head and think about this man, The Dungeon Master. I must stop him from his lunacy to overthrow the world with his magical powers. The Dungeon Master is the next on my list, and I will either see him join my side, or join their side.
THE END
Issue #2: Glacier VS Dracula
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