M4DN3SS R3DACT3D (a sh!t madness combat story)

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From the minute they entered the first building to the minute they left the last one, the only thing Deimos could hear was gunshots.

Every regular agent was the same. Poor aim- at least compared to the three- didn't know how to react when their victims attacked back. Deimos couldn't count the number of times he'd gone in for an attack, and the agent unfortunately in his way had just stood there in surprise- they never react fast. Sometimes he found that good, if MAG agents had already exhausted him, but most times it felt too easy. Deimos liked a challenge.

"Yeahh, fuckin'- take that, piece of shit," Deimos said breathlessly, kicking away the body of the last agent he'd killed. It had gone quiet, which meant Hank was all done too- and probably had been for a while.

Like any other good thing he felt on most days, the peace was short lived. Hank's eyes caught on something Dei's had missed:

"Deimos, look."

Deimos turned to Hank, who was pointing at a broken wall a short distance away. What looked like blood was beginning to pool behind it, causing it to move out from behind the wall.

"Huh? The hell is that coming from?"

Hank went ahead to investigate first, and Deimos stood back- knowing if it was anything too dangerous, Hank would have it taken care of in seconds no problem.

But Hank stopped in his tracks just as he looked over the wall. He seemed mostly unbothered by whatever it was, but something was still off- as if whatever it was made their situation awkward.

Deimos thought he saw the slightest hint of shock, but this was Hank he was looking at. He had to be seeing things.

...Right?

"What's wrong, Hank?"

If the man had even heard him, he didn't show it. He stepped over the wall and slowly approached whatever was hidden back there, and Deimos started to make his way over himself.

Sanford was on the ground, face-down in a darkened pool of black blood.

Just as Hank did when he first saw him, Deimos froze up.

It suddenly felt as if nothing else was really going on. Sure, they were in some hellhole, getting chased, currently had no way out, at an extremely high risk for getting infected.

But also, Sanford was dead.

Sanford was dead.

And to Deimos, not even hell and purgatory were worse than that.

He wished it hadn't come as such a shock after what he'd witnessed before, but this time, where could Sanford have gone this time? Was this for good?

Hank pulled him back before he could attempt to get any closer.

"Let me fuckin' go! The fuck's wrong with you?" Deimos struggled, but Hank was much stronger and his grip didn't let up- making the process more frustrating for Deimos. "Let me see him! He needs me!"

"You'll get infected too. Leave it alone."

Hank's grip loosened just slightly, and Deimos pulled himself back and turned around to face him.

"It?"

"Does it look like Sanford's in there right now, Deimos?"

Deimos looked down. Sanford's face was completely covered in the substance. His blood, at least Deimos assumed at this point, was all dark.

Even if he was up and running, it wouldn't be him.

Deimos took a deep breath, rubbing a hand over his face and looking away. He wasn't going to get emotional. He couldn't. Hank was right there, enemies were around.

"I guess.. This is how it felt when he found me."

Silence weighed down on all of them, Deimos moreso than Hank, who was a little unsure of how to handle the situation.

...He was usually the one dying. A lot.

And those that died around him, it was nobody he needed to care about. None of them mattered. They were useless, wastes of space that were just getting in his way. No remorse.

He technically didn't need Sanford or Deimos either, but he was keeping them around for a reason he didn't really know.

Usually, no sympathy as well. But Deimos struggled quite a bit more than he probably thought he does, and Hank couldn't help but want to help him.

And Sanford, of course. There had never been any having one without the other. Deimos practically refused to work without the man at his side sometimes.

But now he had to. Hank knew that.

"And you'll get 'im back."

Deimos looked up at Hank, wide eyes meeting bright red lenses once again.

"We got work to do. So does he, and we can't help him with that, so we might as well just keep it movin'. Y'hear me?"

Deimos nodded.

"Let's find a way outta here. He'll come back around like always. In fact he'd probably be yellin' at you right now for waitin' on him."

Deimos didn't want to find anything funny right now, but he couldn't help but laugh slightly at that.

"I fuckin' hate you, Hank."

"Feelin's mutual. Cmon, let's get goin'. I don't know when they mi-"

Hank was suddenly hit so hard from the side he slammed into a nearby wall.

Whatever hit him just then, felt like some sort of metal material. He quickly picked himself up- he never needed recovery time anymore- and looked around frantically, ignoring the sudden shock that just filled his entire body on the impact.

His eyes met red hair, bloody jaws, and two abnormally large green hands tightly gripping what looked to be a grey sign coated in blood.

"God-fuckin'-damnit, not you!"