Chapter 14: Mad Tendencies
Knock out the gang leader of the Order, take his body, dip. Easier said than done.
At least, that's what Hank, Sanford, and Deimos all thought while hiding behind a dumpster.
"You couldn't have chosen a better place to hide?" Deimos whined, covering his nose with a hand, "The fuck are they hiding in these things?! Body parts?!"
"They're swarming out there like roaches. Any closer would risk blowing our cover before we even set foot into their territory," Hank said, his eyes still focused on the outer perimeters of the gang's complex.
Sanford shrugged. "Honestly Deimos, the odor isn't so bad. After your room, there's really not much that can faze me anymore."
"I can break your nose, if that'll help," Deimos offered, brandishing a clenched fist.
They had already gone home and gotten equipped. As per Augustus' plan, they wore dark clothing and were going for the kidnapping. The complex where the leader was located in wasn't far from the Nevada Devils. It was, in fact, in a large part of Dead Nevada, so getting there didn't take long by foot.
For one thing, Augustus was right during the briefing. Order of the Gray Blood gangsters were seemingly scattered everywhere, both inside and outside of the run-down building. Augustus's suggested plan of kidnapping the leader was only made more appealing by the sight; the only thing giving the three comfort in this situation was their equipment and dark attire.
Aside from the warnings Augustus gave, it became evident to Hank that just sitting around, waiting for some sort of miracle to happen would be suicide. There wasn't enough information on the inside of the complex and thinking of a complicated strategy would probably lower their chances.
So...
Hank turned to his other two roommates. "This will be real simple."
Deimos nodded, "I like simple."
"You two stay here. I'll go for the leader."
Instead of agreement, a moment of awkward silence hung above the three. Deimos frowned, nearly jumping out of cover in his moment of excitement.
"What the fuck?! You trying to get yourself killed?!"
"Didn't you say you 'like simple?'" Hank asked.
"Yeah, as in, plans that aren't bat-shit stupid!"
"Deimos is talking sense, Hank. Which says quite a bit about your… 'strategy,'" Sanford said, "Let's think this through a bit more carefully."
"You want to think it through?" Hank replied, his tone changing. "Alright, here's what I think. There isn't a lot of time and breathing room with this mission. If we're going for a kidnapping here, it's better if only one of us goes in. Their numbers aren't a problem. If our cover is blown though, their leader's going to make a run for it. The last few raids, you both were particularly bad at infiltration. So I'll do it myself this time."
"But-" Sanford began to protest.
"See, this is exactly what I didn't want to deal with. Didn't I tell you two back at the bar that if you're going to just slow me down with your insecurities, you were better off not coming here in the first place?"
That shut them up.
"Then what the fuck do you expect us to do while you're running around in those black pajamas?" Deimos asked, making no effort in hiding his ridiculing undertone.
"If I'm on the verge of capture, you can distract the gangsters and divert their attention away from me. Knock them out when they come over, and just make sure you don't bring the whole gang to your location. Otherwise, we're all fucked," Hank explained.
Again, the two of them went silent. Deimos pouted.
"We shouldn't even be on this mission then, Hank, if you'd just told us what you were planning."
Hank chuckled. "Who knows? You two just might save my life again."
Sanford rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah Hank. We know no matter how much you seem to amaze us, you're not immortal."
Deimos pulled out the map with Augustus's markings on it.
"Here. Considering your suicide plan, you're gonna need this more than we do." He passed the map over to Hank. "Just... don't screw up, alright? Last time I had to haul your dead ass, you got blood all over my favorite clothes."
"Considering you got shot up while you were using that regeneration chamber, I'm certain most of it was yours, Deimos."
"I'm tryin' to be nice here and you decide to remind me about the first time I died. Fuck you."
Hank pocketed the map and, on impulse, reached out to clap Deimos lightly on the shoulder. "Thanks. I appreciate it."
Sanford waved him off. "Go. Sooner you get yourself killed, sooner we can laugh over your grave."
Without another word, Hank headed off to his destination. Deimos turned to Sanford.
"... You don't think he's actually going to get himself killed, right?"
"Meh. Him dying would mean no more waking up at five in the fucking morning to make caviar toast."
Deimos looked at his friend.
"Seriously, San?!"
"What? You worried about the caviar?"
"Of course not! Well not entirely... but that's obviously not it!"
"Relax. I was joking," Sanford said, readying his tranquilizer rifle. "He won't die, because no matter how hard he screws up, we're here to unfuck it. Come on, let's get to higher ground."
"Bet I can-!"
"No. Fuck your bets. Last time you won our bet on that Agent with your cardboard cutout trick, you wasted my NevAlcohol Credits on another pack of cigarettes. I needed those beers, and our room reeked of smoke for three days afterward."
"Correction: our room reeked of my victory for three days, San."
"Your 'victory' nearly gave me cancer."
"That's the best fucking part!"
Borders were abstract. Man-made lines formed for compromise between two different groups of the same species. They solidified divisions, defined identities, and, in cases like the Nevadan War, they served as warnings. To most, those things were intangible and irrelevant. To Hank J. Wimbleton, they all helped reinforce one familiar thing:
Murderous intent.
The feeling of his feet pressing against dirt they were never meant to press against, the same chill in the air that felt different as soon as he entered hostile territory, and the venom in the gazes of the men around him that have yet to meet his own eyes… these were all byproducts of the borderlines. To any sane person, they were meant to instill fear and anxiety, providing trespassers no feeling of welcome.
Like a beast released back into its natural habitat, Hank never felt so much more closer to home.
Footsteps interrupted his train of thought. He swifty dived to a nearby pile of garbage, providing cover as a group of gangsters walked off. The black fabric of the bags only amplified his invisibility.
Hank rechecked the map Deimos had given him. He looked towards the top of the building he was supposed to infiltrate. The roof wasn't too high up; at best, it was around 12 feet from where he was standing.
His plan would work.
Hank ran up a foot on the side of the building. He grabbed hold of one of the nearby pipes lining the outer wall, pulling himself upwards as quietly as humanly possible. The gangsters that had originally passed him returned. All they had to do was look up for the intruder.
The veteran could feel Death by his doorstep.
With a swift kick off the wall, Hank leapt towards a fire escape. His feet landed onto the railing and rolled onto the platform itself.
Clang!
For someone with his mass falling onto rusted metal, the noise his feet made as gravity pulled him back to Earth was inevitable.
"What was that?" Hank heard one of the Gray Bloods beneath him ask his partner.
Hank remained stock-still, retaliating against the sounds his body was making from adrenaline coursing through his veins. Going up the stairs would only make more noise and defeat the entire purpose behind his tactic. Moments like these were the only ones that made him closer to God, he supposed.
"Probably just some rat jumping around," the other Gray Blood replied after a solid minute of silence. "Fucking things are scurrying around like the own the place, thanks to the shit pest control in this cesspool of a state."
The two gangsters walked off again, resuming their conversation. Once their voices had become distant, Hank hurried up the stairs of the fire escape. After reaching the summit, he used a nearby windowsill to climb onto the roof. Feeling his feet on the rooftop eased the muscles in his body.
Death didn't knock.
He checked his map again, confirming the location of his target for a third time. There was no doubt about it now; he was right atop the Gray Blood hive, with the queen bee just a little out of reach.
His blood raced through his veins again, senses growing sharper. It was a familiar urge that only came out in the right conditions, one just as intense as a wild animal in heat. One that he hadn't felt for a very long time.
A nearby skylight caught his attention. Peering through the glass revealed two more gangsters standing beneath, totally oblivious and distracted from the impending doom just a few feet above.
Hank unconsciously crumpled the map in his hands, dropping it to the ground like useless litter. His compulsions intensified; the last two times they had gotten to this point were during the last few years of the War. Despite his orders to remain undetected as best as possible, in both times he failed to suppress them.
And this would inevitably be his third.
He balled his fists. "The bastard shouldn't be too far now, so…"
His impatience refused to allow him to finish his sentence. After a swift kick cracking the glass, the veteran burst through, dropping between the startled hostiles. They panicked, screeching as they shielded their heads from the falling shards.
"What-?!"
That was the only word one of the Gray Bloods managed to utter before Hank had pulled out his weapons. On his left, he carried the dart rifle. On his right, the pistol variant. He fired both simultaneously, three darts landing in each target.
With shocked expressions still plastered onto their faces, the guards fell to the ground, totally paralyzed. A wave of nostalgic ecstasy shuddered through the intruder, which was quickly replaced with a slight tinge of regret as more footsteps headed his direction.
"Shit."
Sanford pulled his vision away from his scope, mouth agape.
"Oh my God, he's actually insane."
"What? What's happening?" Deimos stammered.
"The roof, check the roof! How did you not notice him-?!"
Sanford stopped mid-sentence as his eyes told him that Deimos was toying with his cellphone. "You're kidding me."
Deimos raised his hands up chest-level, phone still in grasp. "Okay, look. I know this seems really stupid on my part, but I've been playing this really awesome text-story game and I'm just about the bang the princess after-"
Sanford yanked the electronic, blindly throwing it away in the distance. Deimos watched as it flew in the air, hands grabbing at the hair on the sides of his head.
"THIRTY-TWO GIGS!"
Before he could run off, Sanford grabbed at the back of his overcoat, sitting him back down.
"Hank's plan failed! He's in trouble!"
"What?! Fucking-" In a panic, Deimos quickly focused his sights back through his own sniper, adjusting his aim. "It's literally only been eight fucking minutes!"
"Yes, Deimos, I'm aware!"
Like roaches scattering after having their nest upturned, the gangsters maintaining the perimeter began to flood back towards base. In a matter of seconds, it became clear that the entire Order was aware as to what was happening.
"Shoot as many of them as you can, Deimos!"
The duo immediately opened fire as a barrage of darts flew towards the backs of retreating Gray Bloods one-by-one. Consequently, after seven hits, a few of the other remaining gangsters outside caught wind.
Deimos quickly packed his rifle as he saw through his scope one of his targets pointing at him.
"San, they know we're here! We need to move, NOW!"
Hearing this, Sanford also did the same with his own sniper. He gritted his teeth as he pulled out his automatic dart rifle instead.
"Hank… what the fuck did you do?!"
"What the fuck did I do…?" Hank muttered.
He was running as fast as his legs could take him, mowing down anyone who dared to oppose him and leaving their bodies littering the hallways behind him. The brief seconds he sacrificed slowing down were only for reloads.
Bullets whizzed past his head as he rounded another corner. Three more Gray Bloods climbed up the stairs, cutting him off at the halfway point between himself and the lsat office down the hall. Hank realized he was out of both options and ammunition.
Smack!
The emptied dart rifle flew from Hank's hands and into the gangster's face. The lead guard staggered, bumping into the two others behind him by each shoulder. There was nothing the three of them could have done as Hank fired a rapid shot towards each of their chests from his tranquilizer pistol. He made a mad sprint for the final doorway separating him from his target, push-kicking the door open. Bullets pierced through door only seconds after he managed to slam it shut and roll out of the way.
Five seconds.
As he immediately rose from the ground, Hank raised his pistol with his left hand, reaching out for a nearby chair with his right. He jammed the door behind him with the chair, pupils darting all around the room for even the slightest hint of movement.
One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.
Nothing.
There were no places to hide in the room large enough for an adult gangster to be taking cover behind. He was in the right room; he was sure of it. And yet, neither bullets nor death threats flew towards the infiltrator.
Nothing.
A breeze whooshed through the air. The window was left opened.
Hank ran towards the back of the room, hands perched on the windowsill as he stuck his head outside. Beneath the fire escape was a white van that had just closed its doors.
The doorknob to the office rattled behind him. He narrowed his eyes.
"Motherfucker…"
"Start the fucking car!" The leader of the Gray Bloods ordered from the passenger's seat.
His inferior fumbled with the key, finally getting it into its appropriate socket. After two unsuccessful twists, the engine came to life.
The boss sighed in relief at the sound. The bastard who was causing all this chaos was still probably stuck in the room he had just escaped, fighting for dear life. It would take at least half a minute to get down from there to here.
The confident smirk on his face had barely formed before something crashed down onto the hood. He jerked back into his seat, mentally unprepared for the fist that crashed through the windshield and into the face of his driver. He felt the collar of his shirt tugged towards the front of the vehicle. His eyes were just barely able to confirm the one thing he was afraid of most.
"How did you… t-that was four stories!"
"I drink my milk, like a good boy," Hank said, pressing the barrel of his pistol against his target's forehead. "Move and you die, like a bad boy."
The Gray Blood's head froze in place, giving Hank the opportunity to pull out his unconscious subordinate and take control of the driver's seat in his stead. He fired a dart into the shoulder of his hostage, slamming his foot on the accelerator as frantic shouts rang out from above.
"I'm out of ammo!" Deimos yelled.
Sanford tossed his pistol towards his partner, focusing back on the advancing attackers. He They were suppressed and pushed back to their original hiding spot in the alleyway by the dumpster, losing what sight they had of Hank at higher ground. Peeking out from cover any longer than a second would be suicide.
Deimos continued to fire for dear life, until-
Click, click, click!
"Sanford!" Deimos cried out.
A car horn flared through the air just as the Gray Bloods were by their faces. They turned only a moment before being knocked to the side by a white van. The door to its side flew open.
"Get in!"
At this point, it wouldn't have mattered if they didn't recognize Hank's voice. They jumped in, graciously accepting the offer.
"FLOOR THAT BITCH!" Deimos yelled.
The tires screeched as the stunned gangsters nearby helplessly watched the van speed off. Sanford and Deimos were knocked towards the back of the van, hearing the bullets pinging off metal loud and clear. Heavy breathing from the trio replaced the deafening noises of the infuriated men they had just escaped.
"We're not dead, right?" Deimos asked, feeling his body for any unnatural holes.
Sanford's pale face turned red. "The fuck were you thinking jumping in like that?! Stealth, my arse!"
"Certain circumstances led me to some desperate measures, so I-"
"Bullshit!" Sanford kicked the back of the driver's seat. "I saw what you did! You nearly got us killed for your fucking power trip!"
"Hey, San, easy," Deimos interjected. "What matters is that we got the job done."
"You're literally the last person on Earth that can say that right now, Deimos!"
"Chill out! We got the leader, right? Well we should be celebrating, man! Get the beer and ring up some hot chicks, dude!" Deimos insisted. The techie then turned to Hank. "Where's the ugly son of a bitch anyways?"
"Riding shotgun," Hank replied.
From the back of the van, Deimos peered over the passenger's seat. He reached out for the top of the leader's head.
"Let me get a closer- WHOA!"
"What?!" Sanford shouted, still in overdrive.
Deimos lifted up the black, hairy mass in his hands. A wide smile slowly formed on his face in realization.
"HE'S WEARING A FUCKING WIG! HAHAHAHA!"
Sanford watched as his partner fell on his back, suffocating from laughter. He glared daggers at Hank through the rearview mirror.
"Alright, tell you what," Hank said, meeting Sanford's eyes in the reflection, "I'll give you a pass on making my meals for tomorrow to make it up to you. Once in a lifetime deal."
"Three days," Sanford negotiated.
"Two. Take it or leave it."
Sanford grunted. "Fine. Eat shit."
"Wouldn't be able to tell the difference between that and your cooking, to be honest."
A split second later, Hank felt the impact of Sanford's foot on the back of his seat, followed by a peal of laughter from Deimos. The youngest of the three finally composed himself.
"Nah, but seriously, what were you thinking when you did what you did back there? It's not like you to do something like that, Hank."
Even though it would never leave his lips, he already knew the answer to that question.
"Look, Deimos. I'm a bit tired, alright? Can you save this for some other time, or preferably never?"
"Tired? Since when did the almighty Hank J. Wimbleton start getting tired?" Deimos teased.
That question he didn't answer or at least bother to think about; he was too busy fighting the unusual jitteriness in his hands. He pressed his foot against the brake pad, slowing the van down to a halt.
"Deimos, take the wheel."
The smirk on the techie's face vanished.
"Uh… sure?"
They switched places. For some reason, the sound of Deimos switching gears just before the car lurched forward lulled Hank to sleep. That's the only thing he could think of right now.
Sleep.
Sanford watched as Hank slipped into unconsciousness.
"Deimos?"
"Yeah, San?"
"Looks like 'cheese' strategies do work out after all, huh?"
"Wha...?"
"Camping by the dumpster."
Deimos blankly stared at the stretch of road ahead of him. Perhaps it was how empty the space in front of him that made the hacker realize what Sanford was referring to.
"Sanford."
"Hmm?"
"You're still a bitch."
Sanford smirked as he pulled out his cellphone, punching numbers into the keypad. He placed the device next to his ear. It would only be a couple of miles until they reached the station from here.
"Chief?" Sanford began.
"Sanford? Ah. I assume things worked out?"
"Yep. We're driving over with the leader to the station right now."
"Great. Caught anyone else?"
"Well… no. We kinda had a bit of trouble along the way. This is the best we could have done without getting ourselves killed."
"That's more than fine. I can only imagine what it was like if even you three had trouble. May I speak to Hank?"
"Hank? He's uh, a little tired right now."
"Define 'a little'?"
"... Unconscious."
A moment of silence over the call.
"Is he alright?"
"He's just exhausted, that's all. After we made a dramatic escape."
"'Dramatic escape'? What happened out there?"
Sanford continued to give out details as they crossed the line back to familiar territory. He glanced at the side-mirror; the road behind was just as empty as the road ahead. A weight lifted itself off his chest as he sank back into his seat. It would only be a couple of minutes until the station would be in range.
"...Where exactly are you three now?" Harley asked.
"We're just crossing the border over Dead Nevada back home."
"Alright. I'll be waiting. If you need any assistance, don't hesitate to call."
"Thank you."
Click.
Sanford pocketed his cellphone, sighing. "Right. Gotta go back for the car too… assuming nobody found and stole it by now. Fucking great."
He noticed the newfound scowl on Deimos's face from the rearview mirror.
"What?" Sanford asked.
"You're buying me a new phone, for the record. Either that, or you're giving me yours so I can fry it too."
"We have more money in the bank than we know what to do with. Just go get a new one."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold the fuck up! Why am I supposed to go through all the damn trouble of getting a new phone?!"
"Because if I wasn't paying attention to Hank either back there, we would've gotten ourselves all killed. So technically, I've saved everyone's asses here, while you were trying to 'bang' your imaginary princess."
"I spent an entire month on that save! And frankly, money doesn't bring back those 32 gigs!"
"32 gigs of what, exactly?"
Deimos pursed his lips. He then smacked them after a few seconds of awkward silence.
"That's beyond the point-"
"That's exactly the point!"
"ANYWAYS!" Deimos shouted over Sanford, "What's up with Hank?"
"Did you not hear me say he was unconscious over the phone? Or is this just a bad attempt at trying to change the subject?"
"No! Like…" Deimos groaned. "I thought you were lying about that, 'cause he didn't want to talk! It's not like him to just... pass out, is it?"
By Deimos's words, Sanford stared back down at Hank. He noticed the unconscious fighter turn his head, almost as if bothered by an unseen presence. The involuntary movement made Sanford press his left hand against Hank's forehead.
"Deimos?"
"What?"
"I think there's something wrong with Hank."
"Wha… Huh?!"
"I said, I think there's something wrong-"
"Yes, I heard you the first time around, thank you! But I meant like, what is wrong with him?"
"He's burning up."
"What?!"
"Deimos, are you deaf?!"
"Goddamnit, just shut the fuck up and switch places with me! I don't believe you!"
The van was stopped for a second rotation of drivers. Sanford pressed down on the accelerator as soon as he could, using more force than Deimos did. Deimos didn't need to do much before realizing what little color that was usually on Hank's face was drained out.
"We have like, only a mile left before we reach the station, right?"
"Assuming traffic stays this way, yeah."
"Good. 'Cause Hank, he's…"
"I know, Deimos. I'm driving this thing as fast as it goes."
(Original) A/N: Wow. That was a lot of fast-paced action to cover. It was extremely challenging trying to describe all the Madness Combat action, but I hope that you at least got a good image of what had happened. Plus, this was probably a dramatic set-back for the plot. Believe it or not, this chapter was 3,500 words! So, this is something I wanted to give you guys to make up for my absence.
I'm starting to doubt if my story is actually catching much attention, but I am doing my best to keep you all entertained. However, I want to see how you guys are handling it. What do you ultimately think of this story so far? Is it getting boring? Or are you still hooked by the clues I've given so far? Reviews are important, and I would love to hear from as many people as I can.
Thank you for following this story and I'm sorry updates are going so slow. I've just recovered from my fever and now I realized that it's getting harder to stretch this story out without boring people. Don't worry. A lot of suspense will follow this chapter. Keep an eye out for new updates and such. Good night, and see you in Chapter 15.
New A/N: It still feels really surreal reading how different my level of optimism was from 2012 when I first wrote this story to now in 2017. If I recall correctly, it's almost been exactly five years now since I first started my stories. God.
Let me showcase the changes before the team's made before I start detailing what's been happening on my end:
Changelog:
1 - Chapter title changed from "To Catch a Mockingbird" to "Mad Tendencies." It just sounds better. No, really, that's it.
2 - MASSIVE changes regarding the combat scenes between our heroes and the Gray Bloods. A lot more description of the battle sequences, the events leading up to them, and the events after. Also more realism and consistency too; when I first read the original version of this chapter, even I couldn't understand where and what was really happening.
3 - Got milk?
4 - THIRTY-TWO GIGS!
5 - He was wearing a fucking wig. Hey, managing gang work can be hair-ripping levels of stress.
6 - Grammatical errors removed.
7 - Narration and dialogue improved.
8 - Diction enhanced.
9 - The universe is a better place.
Okay, that's that. And now my end:
This chapter was probably the easiest out of any of the 13 before it so far to work on. In fact, I think it actually took only four days to rewrite it; not bad considering my… problematic track record.
The real news though is that I've made a lot of drastic changes in my lifestyle to accommodate all these interesting projects I'm working on (of course, that includes this series). I've pretty much surrendered most of my time from gaming and set it to some other more productive means. Beyond writing my chapters, this includes language studies, reading, and even creative projects outside Madness. Basically put, things are just looking up from here, so hopefully many of you are still around to still experience it.
Alright, that's all that I really needed to say. I'm gonna go straight for Chapter 49 of Hank's Legacy now (been alternating between that and this rewrite the entire time). Hopefully you guys enjoyed this rewritten chapter!
Until next time. :)
~Spirit