"Get back!"
Mark pushed against a desperate wretch.
He stood in front of a factory gate, where an amalgamation of people swarmed after having been rejected for work.
One of them must have gotten a backbone, he smirked and slowly approached, cracking his knuckles.
Seeing this, Mark didn't hesitate to pull out a pistol and shove it into the scoundrel's face.
He used his ability and watched as the bastard's expression turned into one of utter terror.
"Get fucking back!"
The man backed into the crowd, and seeing Mark's gun, the crowd backed up too. The wretches then turned away and mumbled whatever curses they had.
In seconds, the scene in front of the factory gates only had a few people: the manager and the few people who protected him.
Mark sighed when he heard footsteps approach.
A hand coarsely patted his back.
"Well done Mark! That should keep them away for a while."
Turning around, he saw a rough-looking man crookedly smiling at him.
'I'll call you Looney A.'
This was the first person he met when coming to the factory, and also the first person who laughed at him when he said that he was part of the Hounds.
It took a lot of talking until the man was finally convinced he was with him, and even then the man was still doubtful.
Sure, Mark was not the biggest, meanest-looking guy on the block, but what can he do about that? It's not like there was any food to help him grow.
Painfully enough, the process repeated for everyone else he met, forcing Mark to explain himself until his mouth felt numb.
Annoyed as he was, the boss wanted him to get along with everyone, so he simply had to bottle whatever feelings he had and move on. Hopefully his performance would make up for his stature.
Hearing Looney A's praise, Mark smiled radiantly and drew out a burst of joy in the man.
"Thanks! I'll continue to do my best."
Looney A smiled and walked away whistling.
Mark retreated behind the gate where the factory manager then approached him.
"Sorry for what I said earlier, here's your pay for the day."
This man had spared no remark when voicing his doubts about Mark being in the gang. Even after convincing him the man refused to pay since he was 'unreliable and feeble-looking'.
Mark grabbed the money and nodded coldly.
The only people he had to get acquainted with were his fellow Hound members. There was no reason to get buddy-buddy with this pompous slob of a person.
He walked into the factory and sat down on one of the walls.
Throughout the room, sounds of repetitive clamor played with the pleasantness of a diabolic orchestra.
Looking for something to distract himself, Mark pulled the new toy he got from his windbreaker.
A Colt 1911 was the gift he had gotten from the boss. Apparently, it was rare in the area, its design produced in a distant place and much less common than the Luger.
While the part of it being a gun was important, there was something else that made it even more unique.
On the side of the barrel, a signature was carved with a precise object- perhaps a needle or a thin knife. The boss had written his name on the gun for some reason and then had given the same gun to him.
With this pistol and from namedropping a lot of key members of the gang, Mark was able to gain the trust of his associates.
More importantly, now that Mark had two guns, he was finally able to do an experiment that he had been wanting to do for a while.
He took the two guns he had- a Colt and a Luger, then laid them out in front of him.
Then, he grabbed the Colt and simply held it. After a few seconds, he put it back down.
After that, he grabbed the Luger that he got from the dead lunatic who was part of the Spheks.
A subtle coolness fell over his mind like a sheet of snow. His heart beat at a steadier weight and he could feel a bit of clarity in his thoughts.
He put the Luger down, but the cold feeling remained.
So he waited, sitting still for a while.
It was like watching ice melt. There wasn't any noticeable change, but after some time passed, the difference was apparent.
'Heh, would you look at that? There really was something going on with this gun.'
Mark thought about the frigid-looking attendants he saw next to the red-eyed leader on that night. Even the callous man who took him hostage seemed to be able to kick an animal out of his path.
This gun made people heartless.
He put the two firearms back into his windbreaker and stood up.
While it would be nice to have a calm mind in battle, there might be some consequences that come with using the Luger. It might turn him into some unfeeling lunatic or something worse.
The leader of the Spheks truly was amazing. He was gifted with an ability that let him manipulate people in such a hidden way. It was truly a skill that only a genius could hope to use properly. Luckily it fell in the right hands.
'Well, maybe it would be better for the world if a lunatic didn't have such powers. Besides, that man is trying to kill me.'
He froze.
There couldn't be any other hidden thing about this gun, right?
Nothing was tracking him and giving his location away, right?
Mark shivered but then regained his poise.
No, the gun shouldn't have anything like that. If there was, then the Spheks would have found him a long time ago, and running away would have been nearly impossible.
Still, he felt a bit wary toward the lustrous firearm. The red-eyed man was a crazy person, and giving crazy people normal treatment probably wasn't the best thing.
Who knows what the leader of the Spheks is thinking? His mind is too unfathomable, too great to tell.
Mark sighed.
'Screw it. I'm safe with the Hounds anyway. So what if a few people are trying to hunt me down?'