{DR34D} - Madness Combat

UN34SY

I don't know how many times I'll have to say this, but Hank is fuckin' scary. Whether you're on his side or his enemy's, there's this constant "I could kill you if I wanted" feeling that just turns the air cold.
I guess it ain't really a feeling if it's the truth, huh? Even before I went to purgatory, when we were workin' together, he still carried that murderous aura.
I know that some psychology shit says that mystery amplifies fear or somethin' stupid like that, but I honestly would've much rather known less than more.
I'd seen him in AAHW recordings and security footage. He moves around a room full of highly trained agents like they're standin' still, and when he attacks the room gets covered in blood.
Like some kind of dollar-store horror movie antagonist.

He stood in front of me for about a minute. When I started to think he'd maybe fallen asleep standing up, he spoke.
"Who are you?"
"Fuck you," I said immediately. "Want me to spell it? Some people get it wrong."
Hank stood there. I couldn't see if he was angry or disinterested through his red-tinted glasses.
He eventually turned to look at the door he came through. "The guy that was in here before. Did you get his name?"
I couldn't think of a smartass reply to that one, so I just shook my head.
Hank looked back at me. Somehow he saw the gesture even though he wasn't looking. I'd seen him do the same thing in fights. Like he had eyes in the back of his head.
"That was Sanford," he said, stretching out his hand. "I'm Hank, but you probably know that."
I hesitated, but grabbed his hand and shook it. "Name's Deimos."
He nodded for a second, then pushed me back hard against the wall. I swear the wall must have cracked, and it fuckin' hurt.
"Let's get something straight. I don't want you or Sanford here. I don't need you or Sanford here. You're here because they wanted you here."

When I think about it, Hank said stuff like that a lot. 'They wanted this to happen. They brought me back. I just wish they would let me die.'
I have honestly no idea who it might be, and I've kinda lost any hope of figuring it out. Hank is the only person who knew who they were.
Was, I guess. When I used the MAG thingy to revive him... nah. I'm sure he's fine.

"Who are they?" I'd asked. Like the fuckin' edgelord would give me an answer. Yeah, I said it. He wears all black and red and carries a fuckin' sword, we were all thinkin' it.
"Wish I knew."
"So you're vague AND clueless?"
The next thing I saw was a the barrel of a gun pointed at my head. Hank was so fast, I never even saw him take it out. I'm guessing he probably had it strapped to his back or something, Die Hard style. That's what most of the 1337 do during training. It's usually slow to take out, but most of the uniforms don't have pockets, so it works.
"I'll know what they want," he said menacingly. "When they want me to know."

We stood staring at each other for a few more seconds. Well, he was staring at me. I was staring at the gun. I knew I wasn't fast enough to grab it from him, and even if he did, who knew what other weapons he had.
I had to wait quietly until he put it away. It was only after he did that I realized how heavily I was breathing. Shit was scary, man. The last hour had been a living nightmare.
The actual last hour in real time had been a dead nightmare.

C'mon, that was pretty funny. I'm good at jokes.
Tough crowd...

Hank turned away, grunting "follow me". He led me out of the room and we walked to what was probably once the training room of this place. It was then I realized that we were actually in an abandoned 1337 base. There are hundreds, if not thousands scattered across Nevada. The higher-ups realized it was actually cheaper to make new ones rather than fix up old ones, so those abandoned and forgotten bases are nothin' if not common to find.
And then... I don't really know. My memory is a bit jumbled for that 'training' that Hank put me through—a nice way of saying 'test how much of a beating you could take'. For the most part, Hank didn't show any sort of emotion. He wasn't impressed with how I fought, but he also clearly didn't think I was a pushover, or not worth the trouble.

The only real part I remember well was one punch I landed. I'd been takin' hit after hit after hit, and Hank let up, thinkin' I might stay down.
I pushed myself up from the hard concrete floor and tackled Hank before he knew what was happening. Or maybe he just wanted to see if I could land a hit.
I had tackled him to the ground, an' I raised my hand over my head in a fist and brought it down on his face as hard as I could.
His circular red sunglasses broke, and a shard of glass went through my knuckles, but I had done it. I landed a hit on Hank fuckin' Wimbleton, hopefully hard enough for him stay down.
I got to my feet, adrenaline pumping. I felt like a fuckin' superhero, I'll tell ya that. I had punched Hank in the goddamn face.

And then he just... got up.
I was standin' there, thinking I had won—it was the hardest punch I'd ever thrown at that point—and he just got up behind me. He didn't even seem affected.
An' he was just like "I was expecting more, but it's not bad".
Like, the actual fuck? He took my strongest punch ever and his only response was that he thought it'd be more fuckin' powerful?

Then Sanford came through the door.
"Is he ready?"
An' then Hank said "god no."
Which I mean like, true, but still. Maybe some sugarcoating?
Sanford was like "that's bad. Get him some equipment, we need to move."
"AAHW?"
Sanford just shook his head.

"Something a little more... personal."

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I'll say it right now, this chapter happened primarily thanks to @leiwoomynati
So a serious thank you to them, for reminding me that this story was actually ongoing and that people wanted to see it. Thanks so much!