Hey there.
So. A few weeks...fuck.
Somehow college stuff, school, and finals manage to warp a few weeks into...four months and six days. I won't lie, this chapter was a struggle to write for some reason. I ended up re-writing some sections two, three, even four times. However, I got a friend of mine to do the grunge work of some editing for really bad errors.
Speaking of which, if y'all want I can set up a discord and get some of y'all to help beta this. Two heads are better than one, etc etc.
Without further ado, chapter 7.
edit: sorry for double notification, a line was missing and it bugged me. pm me about discord/beta stuff.
Nezu leaned back slightly in his modified office chair. He smirked before turning toward Midnight.
"Ms. Midnight, would you be so kind as to fetch a list of the nearest AAHW bases along with whatever intel we might have on them?" he asked politely. The heroine stared at the principal for a few seconds in shock before regaining her senses.
"You can't be serious," she replied. Nezu furrowed his brow and leaned forward.
"I won't repeat myself, Kayama." Nezu stated. The hero scowled before exiting the room. The principal turned back to the Nevadans.
"Now, was there anything else, gentlemen?" he asked with his eerily polite tone. Hank pondered for a moment before replying.
"Once I have some intel about the base, my associates and I will prepare a detailed requisition list. I expect it to be granted. One more thing. Keep the police and public off our asses. The last thing I want to deal with is amateurs." Hank spoke gruffly with his arms crossed. Nezu shook his head.
"While I will be able to acquire most weapons for you, save for explosives and other such anti-material weaponry, the police is another matter entirely. Recently, many hero agencies have had trouble against the AAHW and its members, hence the recent return to more conventional policing forces. I can merely delay the police, nothing more." Nezu explained calmly. Hank scowled but nodded.
"Then that's it. Tell her to leave the info at our dorm room." Hank said flippantly before walking out. Deimos gave a small wave before following after the Merc. Sanford sighed and shut the door behind them.
"They're already an hour late! How hard is it to get a few guns?" Deimos whined as he flopped on his bed. Hank practiced various techniques with his baton while Sanford did chin-ups on a bar he installed a week ago.
"They… have to… get it… authorized," Sanford replied, pausing during each repetition. He was halfway through his 97th chin up when someone knocked on the door. Deimos leaped out of bed and sprinted to the entrance, a grin on his face.
He scowled upon opening the door. Midnight stood in front of him, piece of paper in hand. However, she didn't have a single firearm. Hank strode up next to the Hacker before glaring at the pro hero.
"What the hell is this?" Deimos asked as he snatched the paper from the woman's hand. The hero frowned before replying.
"There's been a change of plans. You'll pick up your… equipment, and then go to the address listed at the bottom of the page. The police and government refused to drop off firearms in the middle of a school." she explained. Hank muttered under his breath and stole the paper from Deimos's hand. The Merc scanned the paper before handing it to Sanford.
"The station itself? Really? The whole point of an anonymous drop-off was to keep us as inconspicuous as possible. Any agent in the area would immediately report us if we came out of the station with a bunch of gun-shaped bulges under our clothes." Hank argued. Midnight shrugged before smirking.
"If you're so scared, you can always call it off darling." the heroine teased. Hank shoved her with his shoulder as he walked past. The woman gawked at the Merc's rudeness while Sanford attempted to apologize. Deimos whistled to himself as he followed Hank. The Hacker glanced down at his watch.
01:33
Officer Yamamoto sighed as she leaned back in her chair, nursing a steaming cup of coffee. She eyed a pile of weapons and magazines next to her desk before glancing at the clock.
02:01
"What the hell does the Chief want with all these? Half of them have to be imports." she pondered as she took a long sip of her drink…
…Which was abruptly spat out when Hank strode in before grabbing an AK-74 and checking the chamber. She stood up and immediately placed a hand on her holstered taser.
"Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing!?" she shouted at the Merc. He ignored her while grabbing a handgun. The short but stout chief put a large hand on her shoulder.
"Settle down Yamamoto. This is above your paygrade. Maybe mine too." the chief explained. Hank growled before turning to the pair of officers.
"The hell is this?" Hank asked, holding out the pistol to the Chief. The officer gently grabbed the gun and inspected it before handing it back.
"An HK handgun in nine-millimeter, what you asked for, brat." the officer spat out. Hank pinched the bridge of his nose.
"I requested an HK Mark 23 in nine-millimeter. This is a P2000. Bunch of goddamn amateurs. Can't tell their ass from a hole in the ground." Hank muttered as he dug around in the pile of weapons. He picked up a suppressor and quickly twisted it on before slamming a full magazine in. Deimos chuckled.
"Come on Hank, you can't expect everyone to be a living firearm encyclopedia. Besides, I don't think there's any important difference between the two." Deimos said flippantly. One of the veins on Hank's head began to bulge.
"No difference? Are you fucking braindead?" Hank nearly yelled.
"Oh god, you got him started." Sanford sighed as he began searching for his weapon.
"I won't bother going into the differences in ballistics since your brain probably disappeared after that engineer blew it out-"
"Rude," Deimos replied.
"But even an idiot like you has to know about the main feature of the -" Hank continued for several minutes, unintentionally explaining every detail about the famous firearm. Deimos's eyes slowly glazed over while Sanford grabbed a SPAS-12 and several dozen shells. He slid a break-action revolver and two speed loaders into his back pockets. Deimos groaned with exhaustion as he reached his mental limit.
"Oh for god's sake, if I say I'm sorry can you please shut up?" Deimos asked. Hank glared at the Hacker, flipped him the bird, and walked out. Deimos gave a small sigh of relief before picking up an AUG, several magazines, and a pair of flashbangs.
"Hey, your buddy only took one spare mag for each gun. Why?" Yamamoto inquired as she sipped her now cold coffee. Sanford shrugged.
"Hank likes to switch things up in combat." the Demolitionist stated flatly before walking out. Deimos gave the pair of officers a small wave before running after his fellow Nevadans. The chief walked back up the stairs to his office as Yamamoto returned to staring at some paperwork on her desk.
"Freaks."
Rain softly pattered on the street. Almost every shop was closed save for a few seedy convenience stores. The occasional car drove past the five-story building made of cold, grey concrete. Two men in suits with black sunglasses stood out front, eyes scanning the area for movement. Between them was a pair of glass doors leading to a lobby.
One man sighed and reached into his breast pocket. He pulled out a small cardboard box and grabbed a cigarette. He glanced at his fellow agent.
"Hey, Dave, you got a light?" the first agent asked. Dave sighed.
"We're on the clock, Earl. You know they don't like us low ranks referring to each other by names. Besides, you really feel like dying?" Dave asked. Earl chuckled.
"Relax, we're not in Nevada anymore. That stupid rule doesn't work here. Now, toss me a lighter." Earl requested. Dave sighed once more and tossed over a small, plastic lighter. Earl lit his cancer stick and took a long draw.
"Ah, that's the stu-" He was suddenly interrupted when the left side of his head exploded outward. Blood and bits of brain were thrown onto Dave's suit.
"What the he-" Dave was silenced by two bullets. One shattered his sternum and the other went between his eyes.
Deimos and Sanford slowly creeped out of the shadows before dragging the two bodies into a nearby alleyway. Deimos grabbed Dave's lighter and ignited it, taking a puff from his own cigarette. Sanford shook his head before walking back to the street. Hank glanced at his watch.
02:52
"We've got about eight minutes before they do their next radio check. There are 10 levels excluding the lobby. Five above, five below." Hank muttered. Sanford glanced up at the inconspicuous office building.
"Deimos and I can take the upper floors." the Demolitionist offered. Hank nodded.
"I want your second level cleared by three. Try to be quiet for once." Hank growled. Deimos shrugged.
"Hey, that MG was beggin' to be used." the Hacker replied. Hank rolled his eyes before walking in through the front door. A man sat at the front desk, browsing the internet. He looked up to see the three heavily armed Mercs.
"Hey! You can't be here!" the man shouted as he reached for a gun under the table. He slumped back into his chair after two rounds pierced his torso. Two elevators stood behind the desk. Deimos and Sanford took the one on the right, while Hank took the left.
Hank checked his ammo. Six shots in the P2000. 30 in the AK. Music gently played as the elevator crept downward. A loud ding echoed in the cabin before the doors creaked as they slowly opened.
Two agents were chatting to one another, one leaning against the cold concrete wall while the other held a soda in his hand. They didn't have time to react as five nine-millimeter rounds flew into their bodies.
"Hey it's time to change ou-" A third walked through an automatic steel door, only for his skull to be cracked open by the handgun's last bullet. Hank tossed the weapon aside before unslinging the AK and running through the doorway.
He spotted an agent raising a gun out of the corner of his eye. The wooden stock of the AK smashed into the man's jaw, shattering it. The agent slid down against the wall, only to have his nose crushed by Hank's knee.
A burst of 5.45 shredded a grunt before the others started returning fire. Two agents armed with knives charged the Merc while another fired his MP5 from behind a soda machine. Hank's leg lashed out, crushing one agent's stomach while another burst from his rifle turned the other's face into red paste.
While the first agent was stunned, Hank grabbed the back of his head and slammed it into the nearby wall, cracking the smooth concrete surface and killing the man instantly. The agent behind the vending machine fumbled with his jammed SMG while Hank sprinted toward him. Hank slid both hands under the edge of the machine. Tendons flexed and muscles bulged before the machine was flipped over, a thousand pounds of steel and soda crushing the agent underneath. The dead man's radio crackled to life as garbled voices reported intruders on the second floor. Hank scowled.
03:01
"Dammit, Deimos! How the hell did you forget to throw on your suppressor?" Sanford yelled as bullets whizzed past. He leaned around the tall box he was using as cover to fire a slug at a charging agent. The man's sword clattered to the ground as his chest caved in and his back ripped open.
"I just forgot, ok?!" Deimos shouted back as he fired a burst from his AUG. The 5.56 rounds shredded the mask and face of an ATP engineer standing behind an overturned table. Sanford slammed several slugs into his SPAS-12 as he surveyed the enemy; Three agents and a soldat, with an open door for more to flood in from.
"Deimos! Rise and shine!" Sanford yelled. Deimos nodded before reloading. Reaching for the back of his belt, the Hacker grabbed a flashbang. Sanford counted down from three with his fingers. When he hit zero, Deimos yanked out the pin and hurled the grenade at the ceiling. The flashbang bounced off the concrete before detonating in the air. The soldat ducked behind cover while the agents clutched their heads and rubbed their eyes. The two Nevadans charged forward.
Two agents were shredded by automatic fire from Deimos while the third's head was split open by a slug. The soldat lunged out from his cover to grab the shotgun before wrenching It away and smashing the Demolitionist in the jaw with the stock. Sanford replied by kicking the super soldier in the gut while drawing his revolver. Two .357 magnums thudded into the soldat's chest. A third shattered its eyepiece.
A radio on Sanford's hip crackled to life. The Demolitionist sighed before grabbing it.
"Yes?" Sanford asked.
"What part of quiet means 'flashbangs and automatic fire?'" Hank growled over the radio. Sanford massaged his temples for a moment before replying.
"Deimos forgot to screw on his suppressor," Sanford replied. Save for faint static, the other side was silent for several seconds.
"Why am I not surprised," Hank spoke, annoyed. "Never mind, keep moving up. I want the roof secured by three twenty." The radio went silent before Sanford could reply. He scowled before putting the radio back in its pouch and grabbing his shotgun.
03:07
Hank stood still for a few moments before looking down at the bloody agent leaning against the wall next to him. Hank squatted down to look the man in the eyes.
"I'll ask you once. What's so special about this location?" Hank inquired with a cold calmness.
The agent took a raspy breath before coughing up a few drops of blood. He slowly lifted his arm to point at a nearby stairwell.
"C-cloning. Cough. Test s-hack-subjects." the man whispered. Hank drew a stolen Makarov as he stood up and fired two rounds into the agent before strolling toward the stairwell. Hushed voices echoed up the concrete walls. Hank held his handgun at the ready.
An agent peaked around a doorway a floor below, only for a hole to be blown out the back of his head. Before the other two could react, Hank had already jumped down and landed. Three loud cracks echoed throughout the small room as one agent fell over dead. The other received a kick to the gut and a bullet through the eye.
Tossing the empty gun aside, the Merc grabbed a nightstick on the ground and proceeded through the next metal door. A katana-like blade swung toward him, only to be knocked to the side. The engineer paused for a moment in surprise before a bar of solid steel slammed into his gut. Before he could recover, the short end was embedded in his skull. Two agents armed with fire axes charged.
Hank picked up the katana and dashed toward one before slashing at him. The agent howled in pain as his hands were severed at the wrist before his head rolled off his shoulders. The other hesitated for a moment, allowing Hank to plunge the blade through his neck. The Merc wiped the blood of the blade on the agent's suit before surveying the room.
Cells, a dozen of them. Half of them contained men, women, and even children. Various wounds and signs of malnourishment were present. Hank cursed under his breath before grabbing the radio on his hip and flicking it on.
"We have a situation," Hank grunted.
"What's up chief?" Deimos answered back.
"Civies, 15 of them," Hank replied. He heard Sanford sigh while Deimos remained silent.
"We need to rescue them," Deimos stated seriously.
"If you want to come down here and escort 15 injured people while potentially under fire from agency reinforcements, be my guest," Hank spoke.
"We can't just leave them here Hank!" Deimos replied. "We could try and find an alternate route or-"
"Again, your ass on the line, not mine," said Hank.
"Actually Mr. Wimbleton, you will help escort those civilians to safety." a fourth voice spoke. Hank growled.
"What the hell do you want, rat?" he asked.
"Mr. Wimbleton, one of the conditions under which I invited you to my university is that you would not harm innocent people. This includes direct action as well as inaction. This applies to you as well Mr. Sanford." Nezu explained calmly. Hank grimaced.
"Deimos."
"Hmmm?" the Hacker hummed smugly.
"Find an escape route that can facilitate roughly 20 people. And kick his ass off the channel." Hank ordered before shutting his radio off. Glancing around the room, the Merc spotted a series of switches with red lights above them. He flicked one, causing it to turn green and a cell door to slide open. After releasing all of the prisoners, he turned back toward them and picked up a beretta before tossing it to a middle-aged man.
"W-what am I supposed to do with this?" the man asked. Hank glared at him for a moment.
"Defend yourself." The Merc replied before leaving the room.
His nose was immediately assaulted by the smell of sterilizers and anesthetic. Dozens of X-Ray radiograms and dissection photos lined the walls. A table surrounded by lights and surgery tools stood in the middle of the small room. The corpse of a young man laid on top, looking like he had been gutted like a fish. Hank glanced at a file next to the corpse labeled "Onima."
"Dissection and vivisection. Trying to figure out how their quirks work so they can reproduce the effects?" Hank pondered as he continued.
03:13
"OUT!" Deimos shouted as his gun clicked empty and he jumped backward, narrowly dodging an engineer's slash. Sanford snapped off two quick shots from his revolver in reply, piercing the enhanced soldier's left lung and eye. Ducking below an ax swing, the Demolitionist smashed an agent in the jaw with his right hand before wrenching the ax out of the man's hands with his left. The ax was buried in the agent's neck before he could react.
Deimos leaned against the wall for a moment while pressing a hand to his chest. When he removed it, the limb was crimson red.
"Hey, San! Toss me a bandage!" Deimos yelled as he returned to his feet. The cut was shallow but painful. The Demolitionist gave a slightly concerned look before tossing over the requested medical supplies.
"You alright?" Sanford inquired. Deimos nodded as he wrapped the white cloth around his chest. He hissed slightly upon tightening the fabric down. Once the bandages were secure, he gave his teammate a thumbs up. Sanford nodded before tossing a knife over to the Hacker.
"I gotta pack more ammo for these outings," Deimos sighed. "I think Hank's starting to rub off on me. I don't know how he does the whole swap after every two or three kills thing." Sanford shrugged in reply. Deimos glared at his AUG for a moment, wondering if it would shoot if he stared hard enough. He gave up a few moments later and tossed it to the side.
Sanford held a hand up. Deimos immediately froze. Not even breathing, he closely listened for something in the distance. A faint, high-pitched noise. Dozens of them.
Sirens.
"Damn," Deimos cursed. "Sounds like we've only got five, maybe 10 minutes tops before they start storming the building." He paused once more. The shuffling of feet, directly ahead. A pair of agents burst through a door labeled "roof access". The first one in snapped his P226 up in front of him, only to have a flying knife sink itself in his throat. The other, armed with a baton, turned to look at his fallen comrade, not noticing the ax before it cleaved his skull in half.
Sanford reached down for the handgun, only to have his hand smacked away. He glared at Deimos, who wore a cheeky grin.
"My kill, my gun, remember?" the Hacker asked in an unflattering imitation of the Demolitionist. Sanford scowled in reply and stepped into the roof access room. He gestured to the ladder.
"You have the handgun, you first," Sanford replied. Deimos gave an annoyed sigh but quickly scaled up the ladder. Sanford watched as he quietly lifted the hatch. The Hacker stuck his arm out through the opening before firing four quick shots. He climbed the rest of the way up.
Sanford ascended the ladder. When he reached the top, he spotted two dead engineers next to a helipad. A small helicopter sat on top of the pad. Deimos had a wide grin on his face.
"Deimos, no." Sanford immediately scolded.
"Deimos yes!" the Hacker shouted as he jumped into the cockpit. Sanford sighed and grabbed his radio.
"Hank. We got another problem." Sanford groaned. He heard a growl on the other side of the channel.
"What?" the Merc asked.
"We found a helo, but it'll only fit the three of us. On top of that, police can't be more than two minutes out. They'll probably try and breech in five or ten minutes, if we're lucky." Sanford explained.
Hank pinched the bridge of his nose before checking his watch.
03:19
"I'll finish clearing the bottom floor if you can get the civvies into the main lobby. Send them out to the police after checking them for weapons. That should buy us a few more minutes." Hank ordered.
"Understood," Sanford replied soberly. Hank turned the radio off before pivoting back toward the large hermetic door blocking his way. A scientist cowered next to him.
"P-please d-don't kill me." the man begged, sweat soaking his hair and clothes. Hank glanced down at the man before gesturing toward the door.
"Open it." he snapped his gaze toward the man, causing him to flinch. "Now." The man shakily got to his feet before taking off his glasses. He leaned toward a small scanner, staying still as it emitted a bright flash.
"Access. Granted." the machine chirped. The man gave a sigh of relief. He turned to ask if he could leave.
Hank walked through the doorway as the scientist's corpse slid down the wall, a bullet hole in the center of his forehead.
Entering the next chamber, Hank immediately stepped back behind a wall as a hail of bullets pounded into the concrete next to him. He hissed through his teeth as blood dribbled down his right shoulder. He quickly checked how many rounds he had left in the 1911 clone he picked up.
Three. Two in the mag and one in the chamber.
Taking a deep breath, the Merc stepped out as soon as the bullets stopped coming. Time slowed to a crawl as he watched a soldat struggle to slap a new magazine inside his M4, while another was aiming down the sights of his G3.
Hank watched with morbid curiosity as a bullet sped out of his handgun before tumbling through the second soldat's skull. Just as the bullet was leaving the back of the soldier's skull, Hank sped toward the first one. He jammed the end of the barrel under the soldat's chin and fired. Yellow blood sprayed the ceiling.
The room was filled with large glass vats, each holding a relatively muscular man with breathing equipment: cloning vats. Hank tapped on the glass of one of the tanks, causing the developing agent inside to twitch for a moment. Fire erupted along the man's right arm before it was extinguished by the nutrient-filled fluid. Hank cursed under his breath.
"Gotta destroy this place before they can send any more information back to the main base." Hank thought.
Snatching the fallen M4, hank sprinted into the last room. Quickly sweeping the area for enemies, he spotted one scientist in a hazmat suit and…
The Merc froze.
Bright orange hair. A snake-like distended jaw filled with razor-sharp teeth that lacked lips or skin. A maddened grin stared back at him from inside a reinforced glass chamber. The scientist frantically typed away while Hank took a step back.
The Clown laughed. It guffawed. It cackled at the sight. Hank fired off a burst of 5.56 at the small containment chamber. The bullets barely left a scratch. The laughter grew louder. The scientist's typing grew even more frantic. Hank aimed just as the scientist slammed his fist down on a small red button. 5.56 rounds ripped the man's skull apart, but the damage was done.
The glass surrounding Tricky lowered. Before Hank could even react, the Clown dashed forward, smashing the Merc in the gut. Hank leaned forward as the wind was knocked out of him, before smashing the creature across what remained of its jaw with the butt of his gun.
Slowing down time, hank attempted to dodge a flurry of punches thrown by the Clown, a dozen thrown in the blink of an eye. Even with time seeming almost frozen, the punches seemed to speed toward Hank as if nothing had changed at all. Three strikes bashed the Merc's jaw, sending him flying backward.
Pressing the advantage, the Clown almost seemed to teleport forward before wrapping its clawed hands around Hank's throat. In one smooth motion, Hank swung the tip of his steel-toed boot into the Clown's face while drawing a knife he stole off an agent. Tricky stumbled backward while Hank landed in a crouch.
Dashing forward, Hank slammed his fist into the Clown's face before swinging at it with his knife. Before the blade could come into contact, Tricky grabbed the Merc's wrist and swung him to the side, throwing him across the room. One of the lenses on his goggles cracked slightly as his face smashed into a computer console.
Tricky giggled behind him, before pausing at a beeping sound. Hank jumped to his feet and glared at the Clown. A small, metallic collar around the madman's neck began glowing red in time with the beeps. The Clown seemed to scowl for a moment before his usual grin returned.
"G-g-g-goodbye, Haaaaannnkkkk." The words sounded unnatural as they rolled off its tongue. A red light began to envelop the Clown. Hank hurled the knife as hard as he could. The blade sunk into the Clown's flesh, causing it to howl in rage and pain as it disappeared in a flash of red light. Hank grimaced as he pushed his right arm back into its socket. Reaching into his coat pockets, he fished out several bricks of C4 he had stolen from the base's armory. He began making his way up to the roof, planting the explosives along the way.
03:26
Deimos nervously glanced back and forth from the weak and injured civilians to the emergency stairwell.
Hank's never late. Something must have happened in the lower levels. I should have asked Sanford to come down here with me, he could probably help these people better than- His thinking was interrupted as a little girl tugged at his pant leg. He looked down to see a girl who couldn't have been older than eight.
"Is Mr. Red Eyes going to be ok?" she asked quietly. Deimos raised an eyebrow before mentally facepalming. He squatted down to look her in the eye.
"You bet he is. Nothing could hurt ol' Red Eyes. Now, go meet the nice officers, ok?" Deimos offered his hand to the little girl. She hesitated for a moment before taking it as the Hacker guided her to the front of the lobby. A middle-aged woman swept the girl up in a hug before glaring at Deimos. He gave the woman an apologetic shrug. Walking past her, Deimos called for the attention of the civilians.
"Ok, people! Listen up! When I give you the signal, run over to the police! Don't stop, don't look back, just move!" Deimos shouted. He turned before kicking open the glass doors. Dozens of police were taking cover behind hastily set up barriers and patrol cars. A Special Assault Team van had just pulled up.
"Civvies comin' out!" Deimos shouted before waving his hand for the others to move. The police barely had time to react as over a dozen scared and injured people sprinted out of the building. Deimos ducked back inside just as Hank came out of the stairwell. Blood dripped down from his right wrist.
"You alright? What happened down there?" Deimos immediately asked. Hank held up his hand and merely pointed upward.
"Fine, but you'll tell us both later," Deimos replied, annoyed. They rode up the elevator in silence, while Hank kept the thumb of his good hand over the detonator.
"Civilians?" the Merc asked.
"All cleared out. We just need to get out of here." Deimos responded. The elevator came to a halt and the doors opened. Sanford was pacing in the middle of the room. He looked up with a small frown, which quickly became a scowl upon seeing Hank's injuries.
"What the hell happened down there?" Sanford asked, angry. Hank glared at him for a few moments before replying with one word.
"Clown."
Sanford stopped dead in his tracks while Hank walked past him. Deimos's eyes widened at the answer. Sanford clutched his head and side for a moment, phantom pain erupting throughout his body as memories arose.
"N-no way. You killed him. I saw the footage!" Deimos shouted, panic beginning to form in his voice before he tried to calm himself down. Hank glanced back at them.
"Later." He spoke in a calm, flat tone. Sanford stared at the Merc for a moment, wondering how he could be so calm. Glancing down, he spotted Hank's injured hand clenched into a fist, small rivers of blood flowing out of the injury. He wisely chose not to press the issue.
They climbed onto the roof and took a moment to survey the scene below. Over a hundred police officers were gathered below, with several hundred citizens gathered behind them, eager to try and see what was going on. Several news helicopters and a police chopper circled overhead. A spotlight shined down on the trio. They began sprinting for the helicopter as it tracked them. Deimos and Sanford tried to obscure their faces.
They climbed inside the AAHW helicopter and immediately took off. Hank waited thirty seconds before pressing the detonator. The police pulled back as the glass windows of the building shattered and concrete crumbled. The building collapsed in on itself, leaving nothing but rubble behind.
Deimos wove in-between skyscrapers for a few minutes until he was sure they'd lost the news choppers. He leaned back and gave a sigh of relief before lighting a smoke.
Sanford constantly looked around to see if they were being followed while Hank wrapped a bandage around his wound. Grabbing the radio, he thumbed through the channels until he found the correct one.
"Where do you want us to land, rat?" Hank asked gruffly. A staticky chuckle came through.
"Would you kindly land on the helipad on the northern side of the campus? I'll have someone with a light to guide you in." the principal replied. Hank turned the radio off.
"You heard him. Northside." Hank ordered as he leaned back. His vision began to darken. Memories of laughter and blood plagued his mind.
Hank awoke to Sanford shaking him with a concerned look on his face. The Demolitionist said something, but it sounded distant and muffled.
"Speak up, nudist." Hank tried to speak; his words came out slurred. A burning sensation filled his insides. His mind began racing, trying to diagnose the problem. Slammed into hard metal several times. Multiple strikes to soft tissues. Internal and external bleeding, possibly a concussion, and definitely broken bones.
He heard the voice of an old woman and felt something wet and soggy touch the side of his face. Suddenly, the pain began to fade while his vision grew sharper. After a few more seconds, he jumped to his feet.
"Calm down young man," Recovery Girl spoke sternly. "You've just recovered from several life-threatening injuries. You should've been unconscious or possibly dead." Hank grunted in reply as he rotated his hand while feeling his wrist.
"Ah, Mr. Wimbleton. It's good to see you're back on your feet." Nezu greeted as he approached the group. Hank grimaced behind his mask but said nothing in reply.
"Once you and your team have finished organizing yourselves, please come meet with me and several others at the administration building. I will warn you; they are not amused at being awoken at such a late time." The mouse-like being gave a small chuckle. Hank rolled and cracked his neck before glancing at the other Nevadans. They nodded to him.
"Let's just get this over with now," Hank replied. Nezu adopted a small grin before leading them toward the building.
"How long has it been in containment?" a soldat inquired. A researcher glanced down at his notes before replying.
"Roughly 49 minutes. The subject has been much less aggressive compared to how it normally behaves. The tertiary site would usually have a fatality once a week." the researcher replied. Studying the being for a few moments, the man then returned to taking notes.
"I assume from the explosions as well as the emergency relocation protocol activation, said the site has been destroyed?" the soldat asked. The researcher gave an affirmative hum. The soldier glared at the knife that was still stuck in the subject's chest.
"Has anyone tried to remove that blade?" the soldat inquired. The scientist chuckled.
"If you'd like to stick your hand in the tiger's cage, be my guest. Until then, 6812, I'd suggest you and your men leave it alone. It almost seems happy for the first time in months." The researcher sighed before taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. "And I can't tell if that should terrify me or not."
The soldat nodded before exiting the observation room. The researcher remained for another hour before packing up his equipment and leaving.
Inside the cell, the Clown rocked back and forth. It stared down at the crimson stain on its claws. Blood. His blood. The Clown giggled. It thought it would never get to see, never get to feel, never get to taste that blood again.
"Scenario… obtainable," it muttered to itself between chuckles.
The laughter grew louder, before finally reaching its crescendo.
"VENGEANCE!"