My name is Gregory Lacièr, I was born in the northern outskirts of Canada in the bitter winter months back in 1988. The work I do is a what the world might call "specialized". You might have even seen me on television, I'm always there for the big news events, but I'm never in the limelight. That's what they pay me for. I do the dirty work and other people get the credit. I work for a super secret group called C.O.L.D. - a global organization that formed back in the 1960's after the Roswell Crash. My codename is Glacier. I was called out for a mission a few days ago, it was time to hunt down another monster and extinguish it.
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 commit murder.
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. It took little time to shove him into the back of the COLDMobile and drive him back to the Headquarters. There, he would be tortured, experimented on and then killed. That's the worst part of my job, but I do it, because I'm paid well.
Now that's done, I can now focus on the new monsters that I have to hunt and take down. They reside in a place called Insurgency Wrestling Federation. They have no idea what they've gotten themselves into.
Subject: A Cold Debut! 
Sat Oct 29, 2011 7:14 pm
