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Somewhere in Eostia...

The Icon of Hope

Three killers have been brought

In order to grant death to the unworthy

En masse

For they have four things in common

No Regrets

No Remorse

No Reason

Only Madness.

Chapter 1: The Protagonist

… Hank J. Wimbleton awoke with a jolt as he felt his lungs fill up with air. Even with his red-tinted goggles, he had been blinded by whatever was above him.

Wait a minute.

Last he remembered, Nevada's skies were a crimson red color with black clouds. Sure, here it felt like there was a sun, especially in the Mojave Wasteland part of Nevada. But he recalled it didn't exist anymore. Because he killed it.

Literally.

And yet despite that, there it was. A bright blue sky and a yellow sun. Almost as if everything had turned back to normal without him. Like his vision, his memories of such a time before the War have been a blur. He couldn't have been any older than five, maybe six.

Everything seemed out of place; Roman-like structures, 14th-century style buildings, and castles replaced the deadly wastelands, run down ghettos, and AAHW facilities he was so familiar with. White marble was all he could see for miles, as every single building nearby was apparently made with the same material for whatever reason.

"Great. I'm in The Imperial City. I swear, if someone talks about Mudcrabs, I'm shooting them in the kneecaps."

There was, however, a small sense of familiarity about the place. The smell of blood, the sounds of distant battles and screams of terror, and the smoke rising from buildings. Like old friends, those were the aspects of Nevada that were always there when he needed them.

This Madness… the thrill of Combat never grew old.

A small smirk formed behind his mask. All that was left to complete the reality-shattering picture was a little touch of anarchy and a sprinkle of Zeds chomping down on Nexus experiments gone wild. He did appreciate the lack of Sperm Whales falling from the stratosphere, though.

Hank got on his feet and turned around. The remains of the truck they had used to escape from the Nexus Facility loomed behind him all this time. While Agents tried to board like pirates on the high seas, Hank had been defending the truck from them. And shortly after Deimos crashed, they were in freaking Minas Tirith of all places.

He made a mental note to ensure Sanford would drive next time.

Another look around revealed where the techie and demolitionist lied. The latter was patching up the former. Hank clapped his hands mockingly.

"Nice driving."

Sanford sneered at the leader of the trio. "We've got a man down here, chucklehead. You mind?"

Deimos waved a weak hand in the air. "Don't...OUCH...Sweat it! Still got plenty of ribs left here!"

"Oh? Should I mind? I'm terribly sorry. It's just a little humid, you know? Spilled my tea and oh yeah!" Hank extended his arms out. "WE'RE IN FUCKING CAMELOT!"

"Oh yeah. Probably has somethin' to do with that, ouch!" Deimos cringed as Sanford poked at a broken rib. "... Portal during our escape."

Hank narrowed his eyes. "Portal?"

"While you were busy fighting those assholes back there, Deimos and I saw a street sign that just popped out of the ground. We tried to drive by, but the second we were gonna pass, WHOOSH!" Sanford waved a hand in the air. "A blue light just came outta nowhere and, well… here we are."

"So we really did fall through a portal." Hank glanced around the wreckage. "Fantastic. Just another Monday I suppose."

"Pretty much." Deimos said, just before a groan.

Hank went silent. First, it was buildings falling out of the sky. Then, spastic clowns. And now this.

"Okay." Hank scratched the back of his head. "I suppose we might as well get acquainted with this place. Only thing I can tell from here is that we're stuck in King Arthur's wet dream."

"Let's just hope that dream doesn't include another war we have to deal with." Sanford said, keeping his focus on Deimos. "We already got enough shit to handle as is."

"Oh, I beg to differ, Sanford. How much blood do you think we'd have to spill before the King'll pay us to fuck off?" Hank asked.

"Hopefully enough to give me a transfusion… ugh." Deimos winced.

"I'll give you double." Under his black trench coat, Hank took out a Beretta 92 with a laser sight. "With enough to spare to get back home."

"You know, as much as I appreciate you looking out for Deimos, I'd rather not turn every innocent civilian in a hundred mile radius into silly putty just to prove a point," Sanford said.

"Just enough to make an example out of 'em, don't worry." Hank gave them his trademark 'Hank-glare.' He turned around. "Anyways, you and your boyfriend can cuddle around here, while I go and clear the area. After I'm done, you two can handle the leftovers, as always."

Sanford shot him a glare back. "Partners. Not boyfriends."

"Meh, more like 'Fuck-buddies'." Deimos grinned. "Don't worry 'babe,' I got your back. Go kick their asses~"

Sanford prodded at his ribcage. The hacker yelped.

"Agh! Fine, you get to fuck yourself tonight!"

"Keep talking like that and the only thing you'll fuck tonight is my hook, 'babe.'"

Hank gave out a small chuckle, rolling his eyes. "Freakin' tards..."

With that, Hank went towards the direction of where most of the combat seemed to come from.

While Sanford was still caring for Deimos, the hacker spoke up.

"Hey man… ya wanna bet that Hank's gonna come back with an orc head or something?"

"Last I checked, those don't exist. Then again, knowing Hank, anything's possible I guess."

"Neither did zombies, but look at how that turned out, right?"

Sanford sighed. "You know what I meant."

"Okay, look. Let's make a bet. If there's orcs, you owe me 20 bucks. If not then I owe you 20. Deal?"

"You're kidding?"

"I'll even clean up your sedan, when we're back in Nevada."

"Easy money and car wash. Deal."

"Ha Ha! Aww, yeah… Ouch man, chill with the needles!"


The empty and destroyed streets of the medieval-styled city promised Hank the conflict he was looking for a little too late. Corpses and blood were scattered all across the rocky terrain; at the very least, they provided some interesting information.

Hank flipped over one of the bodies with a foot. In contrast to the gray-skinned Nexians back at Nevada, whoever these people were, they were complete humans. The fact that their faces still maintained their eyes and noses only added confirmation that Hank, Sanford, and Deimos were no longer in the same dimension they were born in.

Certain bodies wore two different styles of armor. On one side, the warriors wore either a classic steel plating with a lack of closed helmets and open T-visors, or what could only be described as 'Bikini armor'. Hank would normally note on how impractical it is, if it weren't for the fact that Sanford walked around half of the time bare-chested into heated battlefields, his nipples exposed to the whole world.

"Degenerate..." Hank muttered.

The other side wore black, brown, and red tunics with a bit of leather padding. The closest thing he found to real armor was, from what seemed to be, iron-plated armor. Still, there was also a lack of bodies from the men in the darker tones; green fat guys, brownish midgets, winged red dudes and… cowmen?

"A cosplay convention genocide," Hank said to himself.

"Grab her tighter!"

The deep voice yelled from, what he could guess, not too far away. Hank smirked.

"Looks like I just found my stress ball."

He made his way to the direction of where he heard the commotion. More voices became clearer as he closed the distance; the laughing and bragging ones were masculine, whereas the struggling sounded feminine.

The building where it all came from became clear now; it looked like some old, broken down inn, abused further by a ransacking. Missing chairs and tables, broken windows, and damaged floorboards only added to the sense of emptiness. At least, it would have, were it not for the several men inside laughing and drinking.

"Hell yeah! We sure showed those bitches! All hail Volt!" One of the males cheered.

Another raised a drink in the air. "About time we got our proper rewards for fighting in this damned war!"

"And to think Celestine would give up, just like that!" The third-placed his hands next to his face, imitating the aforementioned goddess. "'So that none may have to die!' Dumb broad!"

Booming laughter filled the inn again as Hank peered through one of the windows. Closer inspection revealed the trio sitting by the table wore the same outfits as the darker-toned faction fighting in the city.

"You bastards! You will never get away with this!"

*SMACK

One slap was all that was needed to silence the female. The other captured women sneered.

"Shut up, fuck-hole! You only get to use that mouth of yours when we say you can! In fact..."

The fourth male grinned.

"... I'm feelin' pretty horny again. You boys thinking about what I'm thinking?"

Snickers and chuckles filled the tavern again; judging by the noise, there were definitely a lot more than just four people to deal with. Hank raised his Beretta and pulled back the safety.

"I found your blood, Deimos."


(Play Music: ParagonX9 - Chaoz Survivor)


With a front flip, the veteran flew through the window, eyes scanning the battleground. By the time all focus in the room had shifted onto the intruder, he already had all the information he needed.

Twenty men with armor way cheaper than kevlar; two with maces, three with crossbows, ten swords, four greatswords, and one with a katana. Fifteen bullets. Easy as pie.

'Mm… pie.'

Time came to a crawl as he carefully took aim at the bewildered hostiles. Five bullets made its way into five heads; the three crossbowmen and the two mace wielders wouldn't be a problem anymore. Brain matter splattered out of the back of their head, with their expression at the front stuck in shock.

As the bodies fell, everything returned to normal. The fifteen remaining backed off slightly.

"What the hell!"

"Who is this asshole?!"

"My God, he killed Niel!"

One of the braver men raised his sword charging towards the intruder. As he slashed downwards, Hank grabbed the dishonorable warrior by the arm and twisted, causing the soldier to drop his blade. Just before the weapon clattered to the ground, Hank grabbed it, eviscerating his attacker before kicking him off.

Two more dashed towards him and tried to slice him to riddles. The first came from his left and was about to swing his sword diagonally, while the other tried to go for a forward dash'n stab.

Moving out of the way, Hank put his leg in front of the first warrior, making him trip and smash into a wall next to the window, before ducking under the stab from the other and cutting him through the kneecaps, making him fall on his back and scream.

Three more simultaneously attacked him with one of them using a greatsword. Using the merc's blade, Hank blocked the incoming swing and kicked the would-be rapist in the chest, making him fall, while the two others still ran at him.

Hank blocked one of the swings, but dodged the second by moving out of the warriors' path as he accidentally cut his friend's sword arm off. During the moment of panic, the Nevadan veteran used the opportunity to chop the second warrior's head clean off, before turning around and ramming the sword into the armless warrior's skull.

Hank then dodged another strike, from the second greatsword user before punching him in the face. As the warrior dropped his blade and clutched his nose, Hank kneed him in the cranium with enough force split his head like a watermelon.

Taking a glance at the targets still in the room, Hank rechecked his kill count.

"Eight dead. Three disabled. Nine more to kill."

Realizing that trying to take him on separately won't work, they decided to use their superior numbers and all charge at once. As they got close enough, Hank did a front flip over them and rolled on the ground behind them. Mid-roll, he snatched one of the crossbows from a dead soldier.

As they wondered where he went, which Hank used to shoot one of them through the braincase. Another was knocked out cold as Hank threw the crossbow at one of the men's faces. As they charged again, Hank picked up another sword and went into a defensive stance. For the first duo that came at him, he gutted one on the spot, and the other had his head cut open like an apple, leaving only the lower jaw.

A smidgen of sympathy grew in him for the latter warrior...

Not getting distracted by thoughts of lower jaws, Hank cut down a third hostile, followed by a fourth stabbed through the heart. After grabbing the heart-broken corpse and tossing it towards its allies, he did a backflip and snatched one of the maces. Rushing towards one of them, he smashed the mace into the head of a soldier, as the bone fragments and blood splashed against his masked face.

At this point, the last two managed to get their bearings after throwing the corpse off, only to realize that the others were either dead, crippled, or unconscious. Before either could decide on how to go from here, Hank chose for them and jumped on top of one of the warriors. A strong twist and the man's neck snapped like a baked pretzel.

The last one standing was armed with the katana. His hands shook violently just before he dropped the sword, making a run for it. Hank pulled out his pistol.

"Nope."

The Nexian simply shot him in the left knee, causing him to collapse. Vocal cord-ripping screams escaped the man's throat, which intensified in pitch and frequency as he saw Hank walking towards him, mace in hand.

"NO, NO, NO, NO, N-!"

*SPLAT

Like his buddy, the head was turned into mush. Hank then dropped the mace for one final analysis of the gory scene.

"16 outta 20. That's like, what? 80 percent? Not bad... but not perfect, either. Especially by drill sergeant Dornan's standards."

"Hey, asshole!"

With the exception of the assaulter with the sliced kneecaps, Hank turned his head to see the rest that he had knocked out back on their feet, having taken up weapons.

"A sword, mace, and crossbowman. Three kicking, one crippled. Let's just get this over with."

Hank kicked the katana into the air, grabbing it before gravity sent it clattering to the ground. He braced his sword over his head like a samurai.

HANK

NINJA MODE: 100%

GO!

Before anyone could react, Hank dashed at the mace wielder and sliced him in half through the mid-waist. He then did a backflip and landed perfectly on the back of the swordsman, impaling the warrior. Hank's katana cut upwards, splitting the top half of his victim's body. With shaky hands, the crossbowman took aim at Hank.

*SPANG

The soldier froze as Hank turned around, deflecting the bolt with his blade. The bolt, which had landed through the skull of the crippled warrior from earlier, silenced his wailing.

Putting the katana away, Hank grabbed the crossbowman by the collar. After slamming him against a wall, the Nexian "nailed" the last enemy, skewering a dagger he had picked up through his hand.

"AGGGGGHHHHHHH… WHY?!"

"Stay here, or I'll cut your balls off and make you choke on 'em. Assuming they're big enough, that is."

Hank left the pinned, quivering soldier as he made his way to the girls. There were three of them; two wore the same bikini armor eerily similar to the e-chicks on Deimos's Internet history, with one of them forcibly stripped. Untying the first two, he returned the undressed third her clothes.

"Thank you, kind-hearted warrior! It is most hopeful to see the people raise their arms against the Black Dogs even after their 'victory'! People like you are what will give us-"

"Stop." Hank pointed the katana towards her throat. "I don't need an ass-kissing, especially with that self-righteous tone of yours."

The Black Dog mercenary smirked as he saw the "Bitch's" eyes widen in shock. Hank's ice-cold gaze turned to him instead, washing the would-be rapist's confidence away.

"I-I see… You probably killed the scum because you wanted us for yourself, you pig..." She accused.

"Which is exactly why I untied two of you and gave you back your clothes, right? Miss me with that gay shit." Hank glared at her. "I want information. Sit."

The three women still kept their gazes on him.

"I said, sit. The next time I have to repeat myself, you're each going to be missing a spleen."

The girls quickly sat down.

"Alright, this is how this is gonna work. I'll ask you something and then I'll ask Blue Balls over there something else. If I like your answer, you get to go. If you think you're a wise guy, I break your fingers. And don't even think about escaping." He braced his katana over his shoulder. "First question. Who are you?"

"I am Amalia Stahluz, Knight of the Holy Order of the High Goddess and her Majesty, Celestine Lucross." A hint of pride could be heard from her voice.

"Okay then." Hank turned to the nailed mercenary. "And you?"

"I'm Mark Ellul, warrior of the Black Dog empire!" He sneered.

"Super. Next question." Hank turned back to Amalia. "What is this place?"

"Excuse me?"

"This place." Hank waved his sword around in the air. "Country name? Languages? A fucking topography map, maybe?"

Silence hung in the air for a few seconds. Realizing he wasn't joking, Amalia finally answered.

"Where you are?! You are in the holy city of Ken! The capital of the Seven Shield Alliance of Eostia!"

The Black Dog smirked. "More like former Alliance..."

"Say that again traitorous scum!" One of the Knights shouted back.

"Yeah? When Volt's gonna fuck that bitch in front of the crowds, we'll-"

A scream rang through the room as Hank stabbed him in the shoulder with his katana.

"What did I just say? You try to be a wise guy..."

He punched the Black Dog in the face with enough force to knock some teeth out. Grabbing his pinky, Hank snapped it like a matchstick, causing Mark to holler even louder.

"I break your fingers."

Hank pulled out his katana and stared back at the girls who just gawked in horror at his brutal display.

"Lesson number one: This is what happens when you try to fuck me over. I don't plan on taking shit from any of you, and if you still think I'm bluffing, well… look no further than this cuck over here."

"W-Why don't you hurt those bitches too?! They also spoke back!"

"One, you're the idiot who interrupted them giving me my intel. Two, my rules, not yours. Three…"

The assassin fixated his glare on the merc.

"...you owe me two answers now."

The Black Dog grit his teeth. "S-Screw you! I'm not scared of you! I'm loyal to Volt! I may die, but him and my buddies are gonna avenge me!"

Hank kept an eye on Mark. A few seconds later, the Nexian started to chuckle, which quickly evolved into full blown laughter.

"W-What are you laughing about you maniac?!" Mark yelled, feeling Hank's shadow loom over him.

"Oh, you poor bastard. I'm not feeling generous enough to kill you."

Their faces were separated now by mere inches. Hank tapped the side of his blade against Mark's shoulder.

"I'm going to break you. Until you give me satisfactory results."


"There we go!" Sanford finished patching up Deimos. The hacker stood up and rolled his shoulders before letting out a groan.

"Jeez. Took ya long enough." Deimos lit a cigarette by snapping his fingers. "Minor pyrokinesis. The only good thing to come out of the AAHW experiments they put us through, I tell ya. Think I can score any chicks around here playing this off like a 'magic' trick?"

"Not with smoker's breath."

Sanford continued to stare at Deimos disapprovingly. Deimos rolled his non-existent eyes.

"What?"

"Smoking kills."

One of Nevada's infamous urban legends was the one about smoking. Everyone who would smoke would usually end up dead, but not because of lung cancer. In a twisted chain of events, most smokers would end up dying in gruesome ways. Some accredited it to the Improbability Drives. Others believed it was the Auditor's doing, using the Drives to eliminate "such a wasteful hobby," as he would put it. Organizations like the Anti Smoking Agency formed in an effort to stop people from wasting their lives away, by kidnapping and imprisoning smokers in one of their secret facilities.

Deimos made a small smirk. "We ain't in Nevada anymore."

Sanford's brows narrowed. "Still it's stupid..."

The demolitionist started to pack up the medical supplies, into one of his pouches on his black cargo pants. Deimos stretched his body out.

"Hey man, I'll be fine."

"Look. While Hank's gone dicking around, we should make ourselves 'useful' and check the cargo from the other crashed trucks," Sanford said.

"Other crashed trucks. You do realize what that means, right San?"

"Yeah."

The site had been not just littered with crashed vehicles, but also the bodies of Agents, and Engineers which have died from either the impact or from falling off the vehicles to getting crushed by another vehicle. Even from here, they could see two convertible humvees, a van, a few M6 trucks, and several bikes that had scattered across the street.

"Yeah, sounds like a plan! Maybe we'll find a more ammo, and some more cigs. Or better!" Deimos positioned his arms as if he was carrying something large. "A bazooka!"

Sanford smiled. "Sure man..."

The two split up in their search. Sanford had decided to check on some of the Humvees and bodies, while Deimos checked on the bikes and trucks. Most of the vehicles were nothing more than crashed and bent metal with corpses or tires still attached to them. Still, there were a few less destroyed vehicles that had a few goodies here in there.

"Hey, San. Ya find anything good?"

"Some 5.7x28mm ammo, a P90, a few 9mm pistols, and a carbon knife." The shirtless merc snatched the knife from the skull of an Agent that had managed to stab himself mid-fall.

"Huh. Neat! I found an axe, a Bowie Knife, a Mossberg with 8 rounds, an MP5 with some ammo, a freakin Deagle and a bar of Snickers!" Deimos's face gleamed as he stuffed another pack of cigs he mugged from an ATP's corpse into his dark gray jacket.

"Well keep searching. Find more ammo and some food and water while you're at it." Sanford opened up another crate using the aforementioned knife. "Rations aren't gonna hold us for much longer."

The contents of the carte gave him a brief pause since he hadn't expected to find such content intact after a crash. Sanford wiped a bit of sweat below his bandana.

"Well, would you look at that..."

Deimos tried quickly shoving a pack of cigarettes into his pocket. "What'cha find?"

"Well, unlike your shitty cigs, I found some good ol, 'splosives."

"Holy shit! For reals?!" The hacker rushed towards him, dropping a bunch of cigarette packs behind him like a trail of breadcrumbs.

"Yep. Flashbangs, frags, some EMP nades, a dozen time bombs, a pack of C4 and even a few of those experimental ones like the cryo nade."

"Damn that's some good stuff… sooo how abou-?"

"No."

"You didn't even know what I was gonna say!"

"No. I'm not letting you have any of those."

"B-But San!"

"Last time I gave you nades, you nearly blew my freaking legs off!"

"It was an accident!"

"Throwing five nades in rapid succession becomes more than just an 'accident,' Deimos! You could have cost me my legs!"

"Yeah, but it didn't! And they took care of the zeds, didn't they?!"

Sanford glared at his younger partner for a few seconds before sighing. "Fine. But you only get flashbangs!"

Deimos's grin returned back on his face. He grabbed a few flashes from the box. "Nice."

"Alright let's continue to search a-"

The muffled noise of multiple guns dropping stopped Sanford mid-sentence. Both Nexians stood like deers caught in headlights. Deimos slowly pulled out the Desert Eagle from before.

"Did you hear that?"

"I certainly did, Deimos."

Sanford took a glance at the direction they heard the noise. The closest thing were the AAHW vans they didn't check.

"I'll take point, you check my back," Sanford ordered as he pulled out his meat hook in one hand and a PPK in the other.

"Got it."

Sneaking through the wreckage, they made their way to the van. As the duo made it to one of the vans, Sanford signalled Deimos with a hand sign to position himself to one of the back doors, while he would open it. After unequipping his meathook back in his pocket, Sanford wrapped his fingers around the handle, his other hand readied with a PPK.

Sanford gave Deimos one last glance before both silently counted down.

1.

2.

3!

Swinging the door open, Sanford was about to take aim, only for him to duck as several shots rang out.

*RATATATATA

"CONTACT WITH TARGET!"

The deep, electric voice rang out from the injured Engineer's mask as he emptied the clip from his SCAR. As he was about to reload, Deimos jumped out of cover and shot the Engineer through the chest twice. The genetically modified soldier's mechanical voice rang out as his yellow blood splattered against the cargo and driver's seat.

Keeping his gun on the inside of the van, Deimos waited for a few seconds before lowering his weapon.

"Clear!"

Sanford entered the van and joined his friend inside. "Nearly got me. Hey, check out the crates there, I'm gonna check out his body."

"Aye aye, Captain Necrophilia!"

Deimos went back into the vehicle with a crowbar, cracking open one of the wooden boxes. Kneeling in front of the dead ATP, Sanford took of the Engi's mask. The advanced ballistic and tactical headgear still looked like the typical paintball mask he was used to, with its yellow visor and electronics. The only difference were a few dents.

"Hmm. Probably banged his head in the crash, but the mask took most of the damage. Most of the electronics broke, though." Sanford thought to himself.

Dropping the mask to the ground, he checked the rest of the body. Aside from the 50 cal wounds, a few significant injuries caught his attention.

"A piece of glass lodged itself into his shoulder. The left knee looks like it had been hit with a baseball bat. Due to getting slammed in his face, he lost two teeth. Not too bad, but it would hurt like hell."

"Lucky bastard barely took any serious damage." Sanford looked back to his partner, who was attempting to open another crate. "Might've survived to tell the tale if we weren't here."

The techie looked at the driver's seat. "Yeah. Now that you mention it, the van doesn't look as damaged as the rest of the wreckage."

"I think you might be on to something."

Sanford went outside to check on the van. Unlike the other vehicles that had looked like they belonged in a scrap yard, the van had a few dents, a popped wheel, and a broken windshield.

"Hey Deimos. Can you check the engine?"

"Sure."

Deimos got out of the van and made his way towards the front of the car and lifted the hood, only for him to get a face full of smoke.

"Fucking hell! Agggh goddammit, I look like a racist black guy from a 40's cartoon!" Deimos yelled as he wiped some of the smoke off him.

After wiping off a certain amount off it he went back to looking through the car. "Well it's kinda fucked over, but nothing that we can't fix." Deimos pulled down the hood.

"That's all nice and dandy, except we have one tiny problem…" Sanford glanced behind Deimos.

"Uhh, what?"

"We got company."

Sanford pointed at an alleyway on the other side of the street where distant voices could be heard.

"I swear! It came from here!"

"You're hearing things. Let's just get back to the bitches."

"But what if it was? If something goes wrong, Volt will have our asses!"

"Stop acting like a bunch of pussies, there's no-"

Out of the alley, several men wearing leather armor and armed with swords, bows and other primitive weaponry came into view. Immediately, the incoming group halted as they looked over the destroyed vehicles that were littering the road.

"What in Eidolon's name happened?!" One of the mercs yelled as he stared at the strange, broken mechanical carriages that were scattered around.

"What are those things…" Another murmured as he glanced at a particular truck that had crashed front first into the ground.

"Did those things fall from the sky… and WHAT ARE THOSE FREAKS!"

Realizing they had been spotted, the Nexian duo came out of hiding as casually as possible. Deimos raised his hand and gave them a friendly wave.

"Yo."

The warriors responded by pulling out their weapons and pointing them towards the unwelcome visitor. Sanford rolled his non-existent eyes behind his shades.

"Well, they seem nice."

"T-Those things can talk?" One of the warriors asked.

"Talk, eat, drink and much more." Deimos said smirking, as he lit another cigarette with his thumb.

The platoon gasped, slightly backing away.

"And this one is a mage!" Another one yelled.

Deimos raised his eyebrow at that statement, while Sanford smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand. The techie grinned at his partner.

"You heard that, San? They called me a-"

"Yes. I heard them, Deimos."

"That's, 'The Great Magnificent and Handsome EL DEIMONIO,' to you, you mere mortal!"

Sanford sighed. "Fuck. You see what you guys did?"

The warriors' worry turned into pure bewilderment as the two Nexians started to argue with one another. One of them even pinched his own arm to make sure he wasn't suffering from a vivid fever dream.

"You always do this shit! Fucking hell, can't you take anything seriously?"

"THE GREAT EL DEIMONIO WILL NOT BE UNDERMINED!"

"Enough! We will not be mocked by these fools!" The leader of the group pointed his blade towards Sanford and Deimos. "Travellers! Where do you hail from?!"

Both Nexians stopped their shenanigans for a second as they stared at each other. Both then nodded to each other and looked back towards the group.

"We come from a place called Nevada, it's in the north," Sanford said, as the duo secretly turned the safety off their guns.

"Huh, so you come from beyond the lands of Garen? How did you get past the black fortress?" The Captain demanded.

"Hey don't look at us, we were minding our own business when we got transported here with the rest of the scraps." Deimos this time responded while letting out a bit of smoke from his mouth

"I see… and who might you be?" The Leader asked.

"The name's Sanford."

"And I'm the great El Deimonio!" Deimos practically announced as he let a small flame dance in his hand.

Sanford wanted to yell at his partner but decided to let it slide because at this point he didn't care anymore; Deimos's antics would take years away from him if he continued to scold him.

"Are you affiliated with the Seven Shield Alliance or the Black Dogs?" The Leader practically grunted.

Both Nexians stood silently there, with a blank look on their faces.

"Who?" The techie asked.

"Wow, you really are foreigners. Well, the Seven Shield Alliance were the group of kingdoms that ruled over these lands by a bunch of Bitches!" The leader announced.

"We the Black Dogs used to work as mercenaries for them, but after defeating that dark-elf slut Olga, we decided that we want to rule the land! Retake our land and follow the old ways!"

"Traditionalist rebels. Nothing new."

"Perhaps, but at least we finally receive our rightful place! All women will finally bow down to us like they were meant to be!"

Sanford crossed his arms as Deimos pulled the cigarette out of his mouth.

"I'm sorry, what?" Sanford asked.

"Ya heard me! Those bitches are finally getting what they deserve for ordering us around! Now not just are they obliged to become our cum-dumpsters whenever we say so, but we men will rule over them like we were always meant to!"

Deimos flicked his cigarette away. "From killer clowns and deranged bandits, to a sex empire. Looks like we're not in Kansas anymore, San."

"We were never there in the first place."

"It's a movie reference, you uncultured Mongoloid."

"So what do you say, my fellow men?" The leader beamed. "Want to join us? We'll share all the pussy with you!"

Both were silent for what felt like a minute until Deimos spoke up.

"Wow. You guys are the saddest bunch of incels I have ever met… and I've been on r/incels."

"'Incels'? Are they too, a proud warrior race from your fatherland?" the leader asked.

"It means you guys are a bunch of pathetic tools. Now fuck off, before we make you fuck off." Sanford pointed the muzzle of his gun towards the Dogs. "I'd have to waste a bullet on my head before I fucking vomit."

The Dogs had been taken aback by the outburst, but quickly recollected themselves.

"Oh, I see! You're like those pansy peasants and Loyalists? We'll too bad, cause this city now belongs to the Black Dogs and our renowned leader, Volt! In fact, for insulting and threatening a Captain of the glorious Black Dog Empire, you are under arr-!"

The back of the Capitan's head exploded in a shower of gore, as Sanford simply shot him with his PPK. The Black Dogs stared in horror at the fact that their Capitan's gray matter was now splattered across their faces.

"Told you to fuck off."


(play: Getaway by Locknar)


Deimos pulled out his Deagle and shot one of the Dogs through the chest, while Sanford shot another through both kneecaps. As the first hostile heart was blown to bits, the second Dog fell to the ground, and started to howl in pain.

One of the braver warriors rushed at Sanford with his blade high in the air. Just as the Black Dog swung it down, the demolitionist grabbed his foe's arm and used a judo grapple on him. He then threw him over his shoulder and onto the ground, finishing him off with a bullet to the brain.

At this point, the majority of the Black Dogs started to retreat, only to have Deimos shoot most of them in the back. As the hacker was about to reload, one of the Black Dogs that didn't run grappled him from behind in a nelson hold. The Black Dog flared his yellowed teeth.

"I'll pop yer ribs out!"

"Nah."

Deimos lifted the Dog over himself and hurled him onto the dirt. While his adversary stood back up, Deimos pulled out a cigarette and tossed it up. He then sprinted at Dog and then jumped with a front-flip. Mid-air, the techie got hold of the rapist's head.

"What the-?!"

*SNAP

Deimos twisted his body, and snapped his neck before landing on his feet. As the Black Dog's corpse dropped, Deimos caught the cigarette with his mouth and lit it.

"Rolled a natural fucking 20."

Sanford raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Dungeons and Dragons?" Deimos rubbed at his face. "Did'ja seriously live under a rock or something?!"

Sanford replied with a bullet past Deimos's head, missing the techie's skull by mere centimeters.

"WHAT THE FUCK, SANFORD?!"

Deimos turned around, glancing at the corpse of the Dog that he himself killed… and the other dead Dog that had snuck behind him.

"Ya missed a spot." Sanford lowered his gun, smirking. "And for the record, there's a difference between being cultured and being a nerd."

Deimos gave his friend a sour look. "Yeah, yeah go fuck yourself…"

As the two were arguing, both didn't notice that a Black Dog had snuck to a hill and took out a horn. Blowing with all his might, the sound rang through the city, however it was cut short as an axe found itself lodged right between his eyes. Deimos grinned.

"WOO! Let's see a nerd do that shit!"

"As great as that throw was, I don't think we have the luxury to be celebrating right now." Sanford unslung his P90. "Get ready for some more uninvited guests."

Deimos grunted under his breath as he took out his Mossberg 500. After looking at his own gun, he eyeballed his partner's firearm.

"Hey, San? Wanna trade weapons?"

"What? Why?"

"I like automatics. You like shotties. What's there to ask?"

Sanford took a glance at the Mossberg, before nodding his head.

"Alright."

As both friends switched weaponry, men in the Black Dog uniforms started to pour out of nearby alleys. Following the men were creatures that the two had never seen before, from winged, red Imps, to the small ghoulish, green Goblins, armed with rusted and worn weaponry.

Yet one group stood out from the bunch. They were about the size of G0L3Ms, green skin covering their massive layers of fat. Most were armed with clubs, but a few went unarmed or wielded swords.

Orcs.

Sanford could feel his partner's shit-eating grin radiate behind him.

"Soooo, remember that little bet-"

"Fuck off, Deimos."

"Why so salty?"

"Whatever. I'll take those assholes on the right and you take them on the left."

"If it helps pull that stick out of your ass, sure."


NAME: HANK J. WIMBLETON.

GENDER: MALE

RACE: FORMER CAUCASIAN (NEXIAN)

NATIONALITY: FORMER USA (NEXUS PRIME)

STATE: NEVADA

AGE: 25

HAIR COLOR: BLACK (BALD)

EYE COLOR: RED

THREAT LEVEL: OMEGA

ALLIES: AAA (SIGMA LEVEL), DEIMOS MARS (SIGMA LEVEL), SANFORD HODGES (SIGMA LEVEL).

PROFILE: Subject recruited into AAHW at age 5 as a prototype in PROJECT NEXUS. Psychopathic mercenary on a take-no-prisoners mission to wipe out the AAHW. Subject is primary target of operations against rebel forces from the AAA and the face of the organization. Subject is to be shot on-sight; survival rate of average Nexian encountering him is 0.0005%.