M4DN3SS R3DACT3D (a sh!t madness combat story)

[[S1XTEEN]]

Sanford took off his glasses and set them aside, turning to look at his reflection.

His hands tightly gripped the counter underneath him.

This was all. Your. Fault.

Your fault.

Get out of me.

Get out.

Get OUT.

Sanford's glare briefly averted to the spare hook on the counter. 2B must have brought it with him from his last base after Sanford left it with him.

It was clean and shined, sharpened to a perfect point...

Maybe...

Maybe, maybe, maybe-

Shaky hand closed around cold metal, carefully lifted it up.

He wanted closure. He wanted it gone so, so badly. What if it got stronger? What would Hank do if he went after him again?

What about Deimos?

Sanford held the weapon in both hands, positioning it in front of his face.

Do it.

Finish the job.

His grip on the metal tightened as he tilted his head back slightly, and drove the sharp end right into his dark eye.

...

Oh no.

Fuck.

FUCK.

THAT FUCKING HURT.

He pulled hard on the wire and staggered back slightly. He could have done that quicker and cleaner, but he didn't care. Spills of red on white counters and grey floors, half-dead vision. Sanford's remaining vision eyed the blood dripping down onto his hand, and he let it fall at his side as his gaze moved up to the mirror.

He could hardly tell who was looking back at him.

Despite the blood gushing from the wound, Sanford felt a sense of relief. Happiness, almost.

Red blood.

Red.

All of it. Red.

It was gone.

They were gone.

Finally. Fucking. Free.

He vaguely heard the bathroom door clicking open, and 2BDamned frantically shouting,

"Sanford, what the fuck are you doing?!"

>>>>>>>>>>>>

"You've really done it now, haven't you?"

2BDamned spoke through gritted teeth, pressing a towel down on the gaping hole in Sanford's face. The doctor had sat him down on the floor and was now trying to stop the heavy bleeding, which was proving to be quite difficult. His best resort would be to plug up the wound with something and cover it up, dressing it up like he'd just hit his head and got away with nothing more than a cut or nasty bruise.

But this was far, far worse than that.

"I had to." Sanford replied dryly, seeming awfully nonchalant for someone who'd just ripped their own eye out of their head in the middle of a fit of rage.

"You HAD to rip your own fucking eye out." 2B rolled his eyes, "Why then, Sanford? What was the reason?"

"It was still there."

2B sighed, briefly sitting back from the man and running a hand over his own face. "Sanford..."

"What if it got stronger again or something? I can't- take the risk of letting it stay there. I might... I might hurt Deimos again. Or Hank, or- hell, even you. Maybe myself. I dunno. I just.. Damnit, I just really want thing fucking thing to leave us alone. I'll do anything to get that. Anything."

2B sat quietly listening to him ramble on. It was strange, as Sanford was never very expressive with his feelings, at least to him. This wasn't the first time the doctor saw anyone he this desperate for relief.

Truthfully, it broke his heart. Especially when it wasn't a feeling he was unfamiliar with.

"I know.. I get it, 'Ford." He continued on, pressing gauze into the wound as a start to his temporary attempt to patch it up. "But you don't have to.. destroy yourself over it."

"I do. I was carrying it."

"That thing doesn't and won't ever define you. There are better ways to take care of possessions."

"Y'say that now?"

"Before you do something worse, yes."

Sanford sat perfectly still, staring down at his bloodstained hands as the doctor wrapped more bandages around his head, angled down over his eye.

"How's that feel?"

"Fine."

The doctor picked the glasses up from the counter and put them on Sanford.

"There you go. So what, you want a metal eye to match the other two?"

Sanford tried to bite back a laugh. "I mean... is that even possible?"

"I can see what I can do."

The doctor stood up, and pulled the other man to his feet- sort of, considering Sanford was much bigger than him.

He looked up at the younger man through red lenses and let out a long sigh.

"You three cause me a lot of stress, y'know that?"

Sanford shrugged. "Yeah. S'part of our job."

2B let out a slight laugh, resting his hands on Sanford's broad shoulders.

"The smartass in Deimos is rubbing off on ya. You better get back to 'im before he starts worrying."

"What do I say about..."

2B shrugged, "It, uh.. is infected. Not darkness, just- y'know, gross."

"And what about.."

"I'll clean up. Now stop worrying and go."

Sanford sighed, shooting the doctor one last grateful look before walking out of the bathroom, trying his best to adjust to his messed-up vision.

You have an excuse. Now just hope he believes it.