M4DN3SS R3DACT3D (a sh!t madness combat story)

[[E!GHT]]

[[this is madness combat. so i know you know how violent it can get. this is where shit starts to get gruesome for real so just be ready lmfao]]

This thing- Hank could call him a clown, though it was a little more complicated than that- seemed a lot more happy to see him than the other way around. Knowing him Hank could tell he was smiling, open mouth being all sharp teeth, always dripping blood that he made no effort to stop or at least lessen.

Hank sighed, slowly pulling his sword out from behind his back. "S'been a while, hasn't it T?"

A growl in response.

"Aww. Y'miss me, huh?"

"T", or Tricky as Deimos had learned back when they first encountered the clown as a team, made to approach Hank, but heard a slight noise from the side. Deimos had his shotgun pointed at his head.

He was completely unfazed by this, but stared at Deimos curiously, almost daring him to put the trigger.

Completely ignoring Hank's warning of  "WAIT, NO, DEIMOS DON'T DO THAT," Deimos fired.

But within that same second, the clown shifted to the right and avoided the bullet. Deimos didn't get a chance to process how the fuck he moved that fast before his gun was taken from him and used to hit him over the head, nearly knocking him out.

The other hand was used to repeatedly hit Hank in the face.

Hank attempted to back up and retaliate, but he was given no time. He was shoved to the ground and the pole of that familiar sign was shoved straight through his chest, creating a crack in the ground beneath him.

Hank sat still for a few seconds. That hurt a lot more than he would've liked.

...And it was getting hard to breathe.

Deimos flinched. He'd forgotten how... creative this thing was with his victims.

"Hank!"

"HANK?!" The rougher, almost glitchy voice shouted back at him, and turned to point at the man in question.

"HANK!!!"

"Haven't changed a bit, T..." Hank sighed, attempting to pull the sign out of his chest. Getting stuck at a bit of an awkward angle, and the sign also being stuck into the ground-

impaling him in the process-

made it much more difficult.

Tricky stood back and watched him. Deimos's back was pressed up against the wall, gun in hand.

"Shit, you got it in here good, huh?"

Tricky, though he didn't say it, decided he was going to..

 help him.

He ripped the sign back out of the ground, freeing Hank and giving him a chance to- sort of- get back on his feet. As he shakily stood back up, he attempted to hit Tricky back, but found he was a lot harder with a hole going through his chest- and the clown easily avoided it.

...Well. I got a chance, at least.

Strong hands shattered the lenses protecting Hank's eyes, and the sign already stained with his blood was driven through his right eye to the back of his skull.

Hank's entire body shivered at the feeling, and he fell to the ground as the sign was ripped back out.

Tricky stepped down on his back to hold him down, and his remaining vision faded to black.

•••

Tricky hopped off of his body, turning to a mortified Deimos standing behind the wall.

As Deimos's wide eyes met a very-happy-for-having-just-murdered-someone face, static and nonsense combinations of letters and symbols flashed in the surrounding area. It was more than a bizarre thing that Deimos would have expected to see if he were some sort of machine glitching out, but then again..

This psychotic mess had nearly full control of their reality. What couldn't he do?

"This might be really fuckin' stupid," Deimos whispered, frantically reloading his gun, "But it's the only chance I've got."

When he looked back over the wall, Tricky was waiting patiently for him, holding his sign behind his back.

Deimos started letting off rounds, landing a few right in the middle of his face. He thought that would have knocked him down, but the sort of creature only seemed a little annoyed, covering his face with his hands.

"How is this-" Deimos stopped firing for a second, looking at his gun in annoyance before continuing. "-why isn't this blowing your fuckin' head off?"

The seemingly bullet-proof figure shrugged.

";@$;&:9;7&:&-!!"

"...Y'what now?"

Deimos decided to try the rest of him. When he shot him in the stomach, he simply paused, looked down at the wound, then up at Deimos-

and purposely fell back, crying and holding the bullet hole in pain as if he were really hurt.

Deimos lowered his gun and raised an eyebrow, confused.

"DEIMOS!!! HELP ME!!"

His tone sounded more mocking than anything.

Deimos continued to stare at him. Why did he say his-

...Oh.

"Are you- you bitch, 'Ford wasn't like that!"

Hysterical laughing and a green hand pointing at him was all he got as a response.

"I- okay, you're sorta right. But that's still really over dramatic. Now fuck off!"

"YOU FUCK OFF!"

The demon disappeared for a moment before Deimos's legs were knocked out from underneath him, and the sign was pressed up to his neck to prevent him from getting up.

Deimos let out a slight grunt in discomfort. "God-fuckin'-damnit. What're you gonna do with me?"

Tricky made to finish him off with the sign in that moment, but as he got closer to Deimos, he realized something. He pointed at him.

"SM0KE?"

"What?" Deimos narrowed his eyes, "Uhh.. yeahh, I smoke. Why is that-"

Tricky paused to consider this, for a reason Deimos didn't really know-

..Before punching him in the jaw, and, very easily for him, breaking it.

Blood dripped down on his hand as he placed it back on his jaw. Deimos frantically clawed at his hand to get it off, but his grip didn't loosen. His other hand dropped the sign beside him and moved to hold the rest of Deimos's face, tilting his head up slightly.

His jaw was quickly torn off by the figure above him, blood gushing out of his now incomplete face, excruciating pain and numbness filling it at the same time. His own blood choking up his mouth prevented him from screaming in pain and his hands, that were just trying to pull the other's off of him before, immediately seized up.

The pressure on his face and body from Tricky holding him down finally let up- but another claw-like chain grabbing him by the chest quickly replaced that feeling, and the pain caused him to black out just before he was pulled into his own special hell, one he wouldn't get through very easily; mentally and physically.