The road was a line of pavement that cut through the tropical wooden region like a deep scar. Though uneven and badly maintained it was a calm place. The only noise in the region being the general jungle ambiance as cockatoos were singing their songs, frogs nestled in their ponds of water, and the leaves blew slightly in the breeze.
This was not to be as a large old jeep drove through the route, "I Don't Give a Fuck (feat. Pharmacist)" blasting from speakers and scaring most critters away. In the front seat of the car, Hank sat, head bobbing to the music while chewing on an apple. After he had fixed up the jeep, the people of San Jacete gifted him enough food that should last him through the week and a decent supply of water. The guards also gave him some weapons like a pistol and a rifle.
The rifle reminded the mutant of an AUG while the pistol was like a Deagle but it looked more...bulkier. He's pretty sure he saw a similar gun being used in that game Deimos used to play, but it used 12.7mm. What was it again? Farout?
Regardless, the past few days have been...interesting.
For one, he FINALLY learned what this place was called.
Remnant was some kind of planet with a broken moon. Those shadow monsters were called the "Grimm" because of course they're fuckin called that. Regardless, apparently, they feed on "Negative" emotions because of course they fucking do, and are soulless monsters who just want to destroy.
The only reason why Humans still exist is because of two things, Dust and Huntsmen.
"Dust" as it was called wasn't actually Dust but magic elemental crystals that were "Totally not magic, guys."
Why the fuck you'd call crystals "Dust" he wouldn't understand. Maybe the one who found them had severe brain damage due to lead poisoning and everyone felt bad for him when he called it Dust so they just rolled with it.
Other than that, there were four kingdoms across the continent, Huntsmen were basically superheroes who killed Grimm and that was the gist of it.
Eh, it's more stable than Nevada that's for damn sure.
Well, it would be if those bastards stopped bothering him.
"Fucking flying scat-rats!" Hank cursed as a few baby Ravagers harassed him. He pulled the pistol and began capping those levitating scrotums mid-flight. Several fell on the windshields like the parasites they were and splashed against it.
The jeep bumped slightly as it ran over one of the corpses, much to Hank's ignorance. Regardless, he rolled down the jungle dirt way, a cloud of sand dust trailing his behind vehicle.
Hank grunted as he drove, he saw more of those Grimm things off in the side. And while Hank might have enjoyed killing this was getting annoying.
One of the oversized furry's lept from the treeline and Hank shot the thing while it was in mid-air. The bullet blew a chunk off of the thing's head, making it flop and land harshly on the hood of the car before falling off the jeep.
Hank sneered at the corpse as it passed by, "Damn dirty piss guzzlers. Making me waste my homicide-pellets."
Hank sighed and holstered the bulky pistol, listening to the song as he drove through the dirt roads. The ride was dull as hell but the environment was pleasing to look at. Hank almost missed seeing the sun again, bathing the surroundings in light. Now ain't that a sight.
Whilst looking around, Hank's eyes spotted a sign, off in the distance. A peak of interest growing within him. A decrepit sign was hidden slightly in the overgrown foliage. Hank looked at it for a moment, humming to himself as he slowed down the car.
He stared at it for a moment, trying to decipher its meaning before he realized what it was trying to tell him.
"Oh right." Hank murmured, "I can't read Balkan. But this looks like it leads somewhere fun."
Hank turned where the sign had pointed him, driving along a narrow dirt road towards what was hopefully a gun and booze store he could raid.
A few minutes later, he spotted some slightly tall houses with Asian-style elements. Hank parked the car outside the building and stepped out, he eyed the buildings with a hint of nostalgia and a smile on his face.
"Ahhhhh...a good ole rural Asian town. Seen em once and you've seen em all. Only thing missing is the smell of napalm." Hank chuckled. Now he just has to avoid all the sweatshops and he'll be just fine.
He reached into the jeep and pulled out his trusty pistol and slung his rifle over his shoulder. Walking into the nearest building to do some pilfering.
Kicking the front door open, he entered the shop with a flashlight and pistol in hand. He slowly scanned the area using the flashlight. Hopefully, this place had some spicy ramen or something useful in general. Maybe even a blender.
God if he found a blender he'd be the happiest man alive. Just one would be enough to sate his love for bladed things that spin rapidly, gosh he can't wait to-
*Clatter*
The sudden noise made Hank snap his head to the right, towards a broken counter. Hank looked at the counter for a moment, then shrugs before walking over to it casually.
"Alright whoever you are, come out, and let's get this over with," Hank groaned. Shining his light into the darkness, the thing shuffling around in the darkness. Hank crossed his arms and waited impatiently.
Then out of the darkness came out a...dark chipmunk with a white mask on its face, with the fluffiest tail Hank's ever seen.
Hank gasped as he leaned down to pet the little rodent, "Awwwww. Hey lil guy, how something as tiny as you-"
The chipmunk let out a dangerous screech, then leaped on his face and began to bite and claw. All hell immediately let loose as Hank began to shout aloud while clawing at his face, "FUCK!"
Hank grabbed the thing as it clung to his mask, its claws digging into his face. It wouldn't let go, biting harder in retaliation, so Hank stopped and began to punch at the Grimm as hard as he could instead. It kept dodging his attacks, however, jumping to and forth all over his face. As Hank wound up another punch, it jumped off his face and let Hank punch himself instead.
Hank cursed in rapid succession as he shook himself off of the stars orbiting around his face.
Sneering Hank looked for the chipmunk, the Grimm scurrying around in the darkness before it kept at Hank again and bit down on his leg.
"OWW YOU FU-!" Hank slammed his leg into the wall as the chipmunk leaped onto his shoulder and dug its teeth and claws into his flesh. He began flailing around like a madman, slamming his body onto the ground and looking like he was doing the worm. The Grimmunk screeched at him in defiance, narrowly avoiding being crushed to death each time. Eventually, Hank bashed his own body into a window, breaking it as a result as he crashed to the ground, shards stuck into his body.
The Grimmunk jumped off the bleeding Hank and ran off to a nearby building, the chitters sounding like a laugh. With a growl, the Mutant rose to his feet and chased the little fucker down. The Grimmunk rushed into a nearby deserted building, which Hank broke through by smashing through the old wooden door. Unfortunately, someone had left a rake on the ground which he walked into, the stick slamming in between his legs.
"Ohhh my gnads!"
As if expecting that, the Grimmunk jumped Hank from behind, biting into the back of his neck. The Assassin yelled and slapped at his back wildly, missing the creature every time. Unfortunately for him it then crawled into his shirt, hurting him from the inside. In a fit of blind agony and rage, Hank threw himself into the streets again, rolling on the ground. However, it seems that he ended up rolling into a puddle of mud, spraying him in the dirty liquid and blinding his goggles.
The Grimm finally got out of his pants and rushed into a nearby ruin of a kindergarten. Wet, bleeding, and with broken balls, Hank was hot on the thing's trail. He entered the kindergarten, his eyes scanning the room.
He saw the little shit sitting on top of a chair, just glaring at him.
Hank rushed at the creature, blinded by rage. He was so blinded that he didn't notice a large number of marbles on the ground causing him to slip backward with a yell. His foot accidentally also hit a nearby closet, which promptly fell on top of him. What made it worse was that the closet was filled with cutting supplies such as scissors and blades.
"AAAARRRRRGGHHHH" he yelled trying to get the closest off him, "THIS IS A KINDERGARTEN?! WHY DO THEY HAVE SO MANY FUCKING SCISSORS?!"
Throwing the shit off him and pulling a few of the blades that had lodged themselves into his body, Hank managed to catch the Grimmunk running jumping out of a window. Hank followed suit but tripped AGAIN on a nearby toy car, throwing himself again towards the window and landing outside on a pile of glass shards.
He managed to catch the little fucker running towards another house. With a scream, Hank crawled into a sprint before running into the building. Upon inspection, the place seemed to have been a restaurant and the Grimmunk just slipped into the kitchen.
Pulling out the pistol, he followed the creature into the kitchen, his gun aimed straight at the front of himself. He kicked the door open and after frantically looking over the place, he found it standing there glaring at him atop of a gas tank.
Hank pulled the trigger.
And only then realized what it was sitting on.
"Oh."
The entire town shook as the restaurant was blown to nothingness, a large mushroom cloud rising like a spire at the center, accompanied by a shroud of fire and brimstone. Hank was tossed through the town, his body finally landing in a nearby house, onto an old bed where he crashed with such force, it caused the floor under the bed to give in and make both fall into the basement.
There Hank lay, groaning and in agony. The Grimmunk loomed over its prey, the slaughterer of thousands as it let out a victory screech. Hank growled and grabbed the furry demon and began to squeeze down on its body, trying to pop the beast like a zit. The Grimmunk squealed at him and clawed at his hand but Hank stayed firm and squeezed, crushing its tiny body. Hank screamed, flattening the creature flat and grinding it into dust in his hand before tossing the now finely scattered fragments into the air.
"FUCK THAT TOM AND JERRY SHIT!" Hank growled petulantly before sighing deeply. He leaned down, exhaling tiredly and stretching his limbs. Then let out his inner frustrations in a shout, "I KILLED A FUCKIN T-REX, HOW DOES THIS SHIT EVEN HAPPEN?!"
"A vicious struggle for certain." the Interrogator said gruffly, though it didn't take a genius to know the man was amused. His face, which looked like it had never smiled before, was noticeably twitching in amusement. His lips were curled in a slight arch, the beginnings of a small smile.
"Yeah yeah blow that sunshine outta your ass pal." Hank snorted, "You fucker, that thing crawled out of Satan's asshole and you're laughing..."
This time a small, dry chuckle did escape his lips as the Interrogator nodded.
"Continue then."
It's been a few hours since the attack of the Grimmunk and Hank had managed to waddle his broken, scorched, and bruised body towards the closest ruined clinic. The building wasn't that big, mostly looted and abandoned with a few skeletons here and there. However, he did manage to break into one of the storage rooms after sending a punch at it.
There he began grabbing all sorts of painkillers, ointments, and other medical drugs to take care of himself. Most of his clothes have been taken off, his mutated and bandaged form exposed to the lab as he pulled out glass shards with clippers. The shards were thrown into a bloodied glass of water as he dug into the injuries and pulled out any minor shards.
Painkillers had been administered via both pills and injection, with some amphetamines ingested and a few shots of vodka. The rest of the vodka was used to disinfect wounds after he had cleaned himself up, and extra bandages were used on some of the more serious areas. Fortunately, his new mutated physique gave him a better regeneration rate, he would heal faster though it was probably reliant on his metabolism.
He was gonna need to eat a lotta chicken.
As he pulled out the last shard he looked at the mirror, a frown forming on his visage. The entire body was a stitched-up nightmare, Frankenstein's monster-like scars reminded Hank of the explosion in Club M, yet due to the mutation, they looked closer to surgical ones.
His veins glowed a faint red, illuminating slightly in the darkness. Speaking of veins, his right arm was a fucking mess, up to the shoulder and right chest was a layer of red chitin which ended at his elbow, being replaced by arm of blackness. There were still faint stripes on the arm and spikes that jutted out here and there, yet it was an abomination.
He flexed his hand, a small surge passed down it before dissipating. He looked down at the rest of his massively muscular structure, toned abs, bulging biceps, and hunky legs. His brawny appearance was a far cry from his equally muscular but more athletic and mesomorphic than the now buff but endomorphic form he held.
With a sigh, he bandaged the last of his wounds and took a swig of a nearby bottle.
He spat out the contents, as he realized he accidentally took a swig from the ethanol.
With a growl, his razor-sharp, lipless teeth glistening in the light. He rebandaged most of his body, some hints of blood still peeking through the new bandages. He equipped his clothes and strapped his weapons back on. Groaning, he stood back up, his mind directed at looking for a nearby ruined liquor store. Footsteps reverberated through the ghostly halls as he made his way out of the clinic, lights flickering slightly as he passed through the aged structure.
As he got out he noticed the sky had become slightly grayish, a dead and depressing aura. With a grunt, he scanned the area looking for some seven-eleven or its Remnantian equivalent of it. Eventually, he spotted a small shop, window busted and a boney corpse still clinging to the door. With a shove, he removed the corpse from his path and entered the shop.
Scavenging, he looked for all sorts of foodstuffs and whatnot, usually taking a bunch of fast food like bars of chocolate and candy in general. He also got some protein bars and vitamins just in case he was low on those. Finally, he went to the booze selection, taking some "Fuck OFF" kamikaze, a few bottles of rum, and finally a large bottle of whisky.
WIth foods and drinks both in toe and backpack, Hank made his way out of the small shop, his morale partly restored at the prospect of drinking and driving.
Hey, it was a straight road, what could possibly go wrong?
Regardless as he poked his head out, his eyebrow rose.
At the other side of the street, two dudes were standing with their backs turned to Hank. They had sleeveless jackets, torn jeans, and protective leather padding on places like shoulders and knees. One of them even had a scarf that covered the lower side of his face while the other wore a Panama hat. Both seemed to be Hispanics, like the other people he met in San Jacate.
"Por los hermanos, where the fuck is this guy?" the hat dude growled as he looked into a nearby building.
"Maybe he's already gone?" Scarfdude spoke as he let his knife dance between the fingers, "Place is a Grimm-infested mierda, so they probably got eaten long ago."
"Impossible, tracks are fresh and so are the supplies so they are probably hiding." he looked through another building, "Boss wants this asshole brought to him, no one gets to pass our turf without our knowledge."
Ah, Hank understood now.
Bandits.
With a silent sigh, Hank placed the bag and food back into the store, he'd come for it later.
But for now, it was time for a homicide.
(PLAY: MADNESS: Project Nexus OST: Locknar - Thunderground)
Finally getting out of the store Hank snuck towards the scarfy, both bandits still having their backs turned. As he loomed over the dude, he put his hand over his victim's mouth before grabbing the spinning knife mid air and stabbing scarfy several times through the neck. Once the bandit's eyes were glassy Hank dropped him like a sack of potatoes.
The sound alerted the hat-bandit, "Huh? Alejandro, you doing oka-"
Hank with a bloodied knife in hand threw it at the bandit, the metal piercing his neck and making him gurgle blood. He was finished off via Hank grabbing his head and snapping it backward.
"Two down, several more to go."
Picking up a nearby rusted pipe, Wimbleton made his way through the street. His eyes while relaxed were attentive; looking for any of the bandits he could bash their heads in. After passing a few streets he came across a small group of them, hanging around a plaza with a fountain in the middle. Most were either scavenging around the place or seemingly looking for him.
Not letting an opportunity go, he came out of hiding and rushed the closest bandit. The pipe went towards the unsuspecting man and cracked his skull open, splattering gray matter all over the place. Several of the bandits turned towards the source much to their horror, seeing the headless corpse of their friend while Hank cracked his knuckles.
"OH BOY HERE I GO KILLING AGAIN!"
Not giving them time to recover from their shock, Hank closed the distance between another bandit, punching her with a nexus punch. The bandit's upper body exploded upon contact and covered the murderer in blood. He then went towards the next one and with his mighty hands crushed the bandit's skull. After two more deaths, the bandits finally shook their shock away and went on the offense! Several of them were armed with cheap hunting rifles while others wielded axes and machetes.
For Hank, this was just another day as these twats shot with the accuracy and professionalism of a grunt; pisspoor and barely above standard.
Dodging the shots, Hank rushed another bandit which went for a slash with his machete. Hank grabbed the arm mid-swing and broke the hand with enough force to crush a jawbreaker. As the screaming bandit dropped the blade to clutch his hand, Hank caught it and slammed it through their chest before pushing down and gutting them.
He then pulled out the blade and threw it like a frisbee, decapitating another one who charged at the mutant.
"Shit! He just killed Daniela and Pedro!"
The others continued opening fire, but Hank raised his right arm, the bullets ricocheting off the black chitin. His then body slammed into the nearest gunner, turning their body into a gory explosion as the force behind said charge and his arm was that of a speeding train. Hank then grabbed the other's rifle and bent the barrel upwards.
Dropping the gun, the bandit fell back, as a yellow stream ran down his pants.
Hank grinned behind the mask and pulled out the pistol, blasting the bandit's head off. Fortunately for Hank, the gunshots attracted the attention of more bandits who were making their way towards Hank's location.
Unfortunatly for the bandits, Hank had a massive murder-boner right now.
INCOMING WAVE: GOING GOING, GONE!
The bandits came from all over the place, like the cockroaches that they were. Poorly armed with the trigger discipline of a fuckin mule, some of these brainlets charged at Hank with their guns instead of shooting at him like a normal person from afar.
Hank didn't really care, he just saw more lambs to the slaughter.
Pulling out the AUG he let out a series of shots, thinning their ranks out of the charging asshats. One of them; a chick with a sledgehammer, went for a swing at the mutant. Raising his right arm, Hank blocked the swing causing the hammer to break upon impact. As the bandit stared at her broken weapon in eyes quivering Hank's rifle slammed into her face and caved it in.
The masked menace turned back towards the others, letting out shots at the pissants; dropping them like the maggot-birthing flies they were. One of them ran at him, swinging an axe at Hank. The mutant sidestepped the attack and shot the dude through the torso. Letting out a few more shots and downing another person, he used the rifle as a makeshift club and smacked someone's head off with it. Strapping the rifle back onto his backside, Hank picked up a fire axe and twirled it in his hand.
A grin formed behind the mask as the deranged assassin felt a song commin!
"I once had a friend named Joe, the biggest lumberjack in old Idaho!"
Some of the advancing bandits stopped for a second, as their eyebrows rose upon Hank's jovial singing.
"He worked like a dog from day to day, he drew ten cents an hour for his pay!"
Hank then with the might of a bull, shot towards one of the bandits; the axe slamming and bisecting them. As the bandit fell apart like a split log, Hank turned towards another who was chopped in the midsection.
"HOLY FUCK!" one of the bandits took a step back, "SHOOT THAT PSYCHO!"
The bandits with guns began opening fire with their lever-action rifles only for Hank to either gracefully dodge the shots, block them with his crab-arm, or ricocheting off some of the armored plates over his coat. Dread filled the victims' hearts as Hank still sang.
"Come Saturday evenin' it have him a ball, it'd ride him along the Idaho Falls!"
The axe dug into one of the loser's skull before being pulled out and slammed into another bandit's gut. Said bandit yelled and gurgled only for Hank to pull the axe out and exposing the bandit's guts to the world. As they fell to the ground clutching their spilling intestines, Hank stomped that bastard's skull beneath his heel.
"But now old Joe he's laid to rest, he forgot this slogan that he learned best!"
Hank's head snapped to the other bandits who at this point were either hastily reloading, running away, pissing themselves or all of the above simultaneously. He let out a chuckle before speeding up, the axe raised and shining with blood.
"Don't you cut timber on a windy day, stay out of wood better listen what I say!"
The axe hacked through the bandits like a violent tornado made up of razor blades and psychosis. Blood splattered across the walls, limbs flew across the plaza and screams echoed.
"Winds and top flowers go either way, don't you cut timber on a windy day!"
Some shots actually made it to Hank, yet were not much for his thick skin, ending up in non vital areas, or just hit the armored plates. Regardless even if he felt any sort of pain, Hank couldn't help but ignore all as all that was keeping him going and giving him immense joy was the catharsis of destroying his enemies.
As the last bandit tripped upon a rock, Hank slammed the axe into him.
Several times. Blood and gore splashing all over himself and the surrounding area.
He kept chopping the bandit down to size, up until the axe broke.
And as he stood over the pile of corpses, ridden with bullet holes, slashes and covered in the blood of his enemies, Hank laughed joyously.
WAVE DESTROYED: "BROWN BAG? YOU NEED A BODY BAG!"
"Oh yeah, that felt real good." the psychotic Nevadan exclaimed. A shot of relief ran through him and he sighed. He definitely needed that, especially after what happened prior. He glanced around at the glorious carnage he created.
"Now then, I wonder if they have anything nice on them." the psycho chuckled dryly, gazing at the mutilated corpses with interest. He proceeded to loot the corpses of whatever valuables he could find. At first, he didn't find anything of value but after a bit of pilfering, he found some mint gum, which was always a plus. The fact that it has a stronger taste was an even bigger bonus.
Other than that there was just the usual garbage like small knives and maybe some 'dust' rounds.
He didn't care what kind of dust it was, he just grabbed the ammo, turning it into some shitty bags. If he could find clips for a pistol he could make a "Skittles" flavored clip, each shot coming in a different color of the rainbow.
"Huh, neat…" Hank muttered, holding up one of the knives he picked up. He ran a finger over the blade's edge, noting its craft and sharpness. He groaned once he noticed its shit quality and slight rust. Eh, as long as it stabs.
The Interrogator sat back, his eyes widened and mouth slightly agape.
"Y-you killed them just like that?"
"Yep, more came and I went back to hacking and slashing. Was kinda fun after a while when they got scared. They'd shoot at me, scream when they realized it was futile, Wham, bam, 'Oh god, my brains, you hit me in my brains.' easy as that."
"I understand what it is to take a life." the Interrogator spoke up, his eyes becoming stone-cold, "Being in the Atlas army means defending the world not just from the Grimm but those who want to hurt others. For the defense of the innocent, I will gladly stand before the darkness."
He crossed his arms, glaring at Hank.
"You on the other hand relish in slaughter." a sneer was forming, "I understand that these were bandits and that they are scum...but the unnecessary brutality? Gutting them, crushing their heads beneath your heel? Singing while chopping them apart with a fire axe?! You are deranged!"
"Alright, Mr 'Gotz Eisenschwantz' let me clear up some shit for you because you're being a prick right now."
Hank, even though he was still sitting, loomed over the Atlesian, a slight aura of dread running down the man, "First things first, that self-righteous stick up your ass? You gotta pull out or else you're gonna end up with an infection. I've seen it happen with people and their dragon-dildos, ain't pretty."
"Second, don't give me that 'Muh Morality' bullshit you fuckin dolt. For someone who's talking out of their ass about being morally superior, you sure ain't being loved by the people in that shitty little town under the clouds."
"Thirdly, I don't care." Hank sat back down, "Morality is a freakin spook anyway. People by nature are egotistical and trying to be some goody two shoes only ends up with you getting cucked by someone who doesn't have any of those limits. And what the fuck are you crying about, it's not like I killed non-hostiles or a few randoms. Bandits are literally the lowest form of scum, bullies who can aim a gun and who think they are all hot shit."
"Those fuckin losers probably act even worse at times, cause ACTUAL problems to decent people. Don't get me wrong, I don't kill bandits and scum because I want to help people or anything, it's pure enjoyment and easier because no one is gonna miss em. But that's the fuckin point." Hank slammed his hand on the desk, "No. One. Is. Gonna. Miss. Em."
"And what makes you different from them?"
"I'm better." Hank chuckled, "I am a professional, a slaughtered. I can actually back up my own shit and don't need to steal from randos like a hobo. I've got skills, might an a reputation; As the greatest ass-kicker in the world. If I want to steal or get something I'll raid a Nexus facility , know why? Because there's a modicum of challenge in that. Bandits don't have the same ambition; they are the bottom of the barrel.
"Besides, I'm doing you assholes a service, if the bandits get scared shitless they attract the Grimm away from villages and cities, so it's a win-win, right?"
The Interrogator rubbed his face, a frustrated sigh escaping him.
"Continue your story…"
"RUUUUUUN! FUCKING RU-" A knife made it through another Bandit's neck.
Hank's foot stomped over its corpse, the once ruined buildings in the back covered in new bodies and blood. Some Grimm actually interfered after he dispatched a lot of the bandit scum, yet got sent to the shadow realm all the same.
Hank stretched his back, and then placed his hands on his hips. "Another day, another pile of corpses!"
It wasn't much compared to his pile in Nevada but it was honest work, and Hank was always proud of himself when he did a good job. Whistling a tune he made his way towards his Car only to stop when he spotted someone standing over it. He was of a generic build, some light gray jacket, with overly stylized emblems. His baggy pants were complimented by combat boots, and he had wavy white hair. His eyes reminded Hank of a snake in a way, cunning and cruel...and also smug.
"Well well well…" the newcomer's snarky voice drew out. "You're the one coming in my turf…"
"And who the fuck are you exactly?"
"And a potty-mouth too?" The stranger hummed. "You've got a lot of balls talking like that after thrashing my Gang, big guy."
"Your Gang?" Hank laughed. "So these losers were with you? Those shrimp-fry dumbasses were just another Monday for me."
"I suppose you have a point." The "Bandit" growled. "If it wasn't for that bitch Branwen driving me and the old gang out, I wouldn't have to use south-mistral stock."
"'South-Mistal Stock' ?" Hank chuckled. "What makes the 'Northern' stock better then?"
"Most people there are born criminals there. Those guys you took out were generally outcast criminals or outlaws that fled from San Jacet or other shitty hovels." Hank's opponent spoke, a strange silver-white sword hanging from his shoulder. "Still I guess I should thank you, now I can get an actually competent crew."
"Well, you're welcome then Jackass." Hank clasped his hands together. "Now if you excuse me I need to get to my car and-"
"Oh I don't think so...you see I can't let some upstart ruin the name of Jihz, leader of the Caza Blanca having his men butchered by some walk-the-forest-fuck mongloid."
"Gee that's not a very nice thing to say." small sparks ran down Hank's arm, "You know there are easier ways to commit suicide."
"Suicide? No." The sword was raised, and madness overtook Jihz's eyes. "Homicide."
Hank had reflexes that no man could match, being able to perceive the world at a slower pace. However, Jihz took two steps and then slid on the ground at horrific speeds. The Bandit went for a swing, one which Hank managed to barely block with the crab arm, and even then there was a slight scratch on the blacked chitin.
Before Hank could even shake the rattles off, another swing came. This time it connected with Hank's backplate, leaving a gash in the titanium plate. Like some super-sonic ice skater, Jihz circled and rushed Hank from every direction, his sword going for deep cuts. Though Hank managed to either tank or block several swings, some had cut through his jacket and even flesh leaving small cuts.
Snarling, Hank felt his Tec-sense flare as Jihz went for a stab. Not letting that happen, bullet-time came on and Hank twisted his body to dodge the attack. As Jihz was close enough Hank mustered all of his might and swung his tree-trunk arm at the Bandit. Though the hit connected, not just was Hank caught off guard that Jihz didn't turn into a puddle of Gore, but he didn't expect the dude to suddenly flash in some white light. Though the Bandit was flung towards the nearest tree, Hank had also felt as though his blow had.. 'slid' off his target slightly.
The Bandit grunted before shooting back up.
"Not bad for a Downie!" Jihz twisted his sword around his arm. To Hank's surprise, the sword turned into an Assault rifle like some freakin Michael Bay Transformer, which was aimed directly at the Mutated assassin.
"Oh."
The trigger was pulled and dust rounds flew, causing Hank to sidestep the shots and run behind cover, the closest being a telephone booth. Groaning and pulling out the pistol he had, he shot out of cover and let out a few bullets, each one landing on their mark. Unfortunately, the glow appeared again and the bullets seemed to slide off somehow, the Bandit laughing.
"You Idiot."
He let out another stream of bullets, much to Hank's annoyance.
The Mutant jumped back into cover, his brain working on overdrive.
So shooting and punching doesn't work; fucking annoying.
However no one is invincible, so he'll have to try to find a way to beat him by using that BIG PULSING brain of his. If Jihz had no open weakness, maybe he'll accidentally expose one when he's caught off guard.
An idea formed inside Hank's mind, as he knew what to do.
Manly as he his, he rose from his cover and did something a certain Joseph would be proud off, He ran away….IN PRETEND.
ADAPT
OVERCOME
IMPROVISE
"What the fuck?!" Jihz yelled as Hank dashed towards the ruined town again. "GET BACK HERE YOU COWARD!"
The Mutant majestically rushed into the buildings and disappeared as though he had turned into particles. The Bandit meanwhile used his speed and rushed into the building Hank had jumped into, only to find it empty.
"YOU CAN RUN BUT YOU CAN'T FUCKIN HIDE!"
Unfortunatly for Jihz, Hank had been a hide and seek champion back in his childhood. It's been an hour since the battle had begun and Jihz was still looking for the tall muscular and dark mutant. A growl escaped him as he kicked over a trash can expecting the Mutant to fall out of it.
Unfortunately, all that fell out were a bunch of copies of Kevin Smith's He-man adaptation, a digital copy of Fallout the Frontier and Fleetwire's rotting corpse.
"GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH" The bandit raised his arms. "WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?!"
Unbeknownst to Jihz, Hank was sitting in a nearby bush, chuckling slightly as he gazed at the raging dumbass. While the bandit had been running around trying to find him, Hank went full Batman and stalked his prey instead. As Jihz was clueless about his situation, Hank did as a predator did best and like an Owl observed.
The way Jihz moved was usually by sliding. However he wore no roller skates and the ground wasn't exactly slippery, and yet that asshole was rushing around like a fatfuck in an Alpamare waterslide.
That's when Hank noticed it.
There was a faint glow on Jihz's feet; a barely noticeable white outline glistening over the boots. The movement, the way damage just seemingly skimmed past him even though Hank knew for sure he had popped a cap into that fucker...
Sliding
Slipping
Skipping
Skimming
The bastard controlled friction, didn't he?
Hank then pondered to himself. His opponent's name was Jihz… and some parts of his body glowed white… he controlled friction. Immaturity took over as a grin formed behind his mask. "BWAHAHAHAHAHA!" Hank fell out of the bush, clutching his stomach."HIS NAME IS FUCKING JIHZ-"
A foot instantly connected with Hank's face.
"WERE YOU HIDING IN THAT BUSH THIS ENTIRE TIME!?1!1"
Beta shows outrage at being bamboozled.
"Yes."
Sigma Male Gridset 169: Admit your superiority without hesitation.
"YOU MADE ME WASTE THREE HOURS!" Jihz pulled out his weapon. "YOU'LL PAY YOU FOR THAT!"
Beta pisses and moans about wasted time that they will forever have lost due to their retardation.
"Yes, I did."
Sigma does not give a fuck about Beta being a smoothbrain.
SIGMA MALE GRINDSET RULE 177013: Ignore people whose names are a reference to Masturbation, laugh at their faces and waste their time.
Jihz was pissed.
"ABSOLUTE-!" A Nexus punch connected with Jihz's face. However, unlike the other times Hank has stabbed, shot and smacked the Bastard, the punch didn't just connect but the white light instantly shattered.
Alongside Jihz's upper body which splattered across the street and covered Hank in red.
"Wait, that worked?"
He expected the nexus punch to maybe daze or distract the Bandit while he figured out a way to beat him, but apparently hitting a man really really hard worked.
It just works.
Huh, Neat.
Shrugging, Hank pilfered Jihz's wallet and then made his way back to the car.
Sup ya'll
Another Day, Another Chapter.
I'm not gonna lie had trouble sleeping tonight cause I was worried that people aren't gonna like this fic. Sure it's only been two chapters and it's been fun writing but I'd be lying if I didn't admit that since this style of writing is a bit new to me, I'm worried this fic will be forgotten. Especially since this is a passion project of mine and friends. Regardless I also went to the dentist today so correcting the whole chapter took some time today. Anyways onto the reviews!
Edgar115: IT IS A DONUGHT OF LIES! GLAZE SUPREMACY BOI!
flitterflux: Thanks bro!
whatsupman: Thanks for sticking around, and well I certainly hope the slaughter of Bandits was up your alley! Anyways, the "Kill em all route" just makes the most sense you know? Hank isn't a good person; he's the closest thing to a Murder Hobo with a lack of empathy for his enemies and the other 'meat sacks' that stand in his way. A normal RWBY fic would have probably dropped him close to Vale where he Meets team RWBY and goes on wacky adventures, but that doesn't make sense because Hank would probably murder anyone in his way in the most brutal fashion and Team RWBY would NOT like that at all.
So I had to find a way around that; how do you make these two types of character meet without one of them trying to Brutalize the other? Well after a long brain session and lots and LOTS of Cocktails, me and the bois came up with a nice setup. As for Hank's combat, he's gonna have some weapons on him; one a trophy from a certain forgotten character with a BADASS huntsman weapon and another he's gonna have commissioned in Mistral which is just pure evil. Otherwise, he's using what he can find alongside the sword.
And yeah there's gonna be some characters that eventually come over!
nantono: Hank is not an Anti-hero. He's really not. This is a man who will kill for the slightest excuse to kill. Granted he enjoys 'fights' more than straight up murder but he also has no hesitation to kill someone if they annoy him, or wrong him. Dude literally blasted a guy in a park for dancing, that's not very 'heroic'. However, I'll say he's not as morally fucked as Tricky and is probably chaotic neutral compared to Tricky's full-on Chaotic evil.
GameMax10: I'm just gonna say it; you will LOVE how I plan to introduce him to team RWBY properly in Mistral.
Kriegy50: It's similar and while originally there were plans to do it similarly well...uh let's just say some Project Nexus lore shed some light on WHAT Nexus 'Enegery' really is and it suddenly makes sense why Aura a manifestation of a SOUL gets so fucked up.
Ashton Chane: Something like that; Hank is gonna change up some things here and there, some of the better others...well...
Anyways see ya tomorrow and I really hope you enjoy this story.