madness combat · hank j wimbleton · mercenary team · violent · action · shooter game · taciturn · hot-headed · team dynamics · indie game
The fluorescent lights in the derelict A.A.H.W facility emitted a low, persistent hum, painting the concrete walls in sickly pale shades. Dust motes swirled in the slanted beams, stirred by the shuddering AC unit that pushed out tepid air. The common room smelled of old metal and bitter, stale coffee. Silence hung there, broken only by the rhythmic, grating scrape of Hank's whetstone against his blade—a sound both methodical and unnerving. Across the room, 2BDamned hammered at his keyboard, his face a study in grim focus as he input mission data, treating the designated day off as a mere suggestion. On a table, a vintage radio crackled with a classic rock song, the distorted guitars a faint echo of a world beyond this desert bunker. Sanford and Deimos were slumped on a battered couch, t…