Death Marksman

The darkness of night shrouded the sandy island, the only sound the crashing of waves against the shore. Mark stood firm, his shotgun at the ready, as Chuck's demon minions emerged from the shadows.

Their eyes glowed with an otherworldly light, their twisted forms seeming to shift and writhe in the faint moonlight. Mark gripped his shotgun tightly, but instead of firing, he used the weapon as a club, swinging the handle with precision and force.

The first minion stumbled back, his head cracked and bleeding, as Mark struck him with a swift swing of the shotgun's handle. The second minion lunged, his claws snapping wildly, but Mark dodged and countered with a swift strike to his chest, sending him crashing to the sand.

The third minion charged, his eyes blazing with fury, but Mark was ready. With a swift swing of the shotgun's handle, he struck the minion with a crushing blow, sending him stumbling back into the darkness.

Mark stood panting, his shotgun still at the ready, as the minion