madness combat · hank j Wimbleton · Sanford · deimos · 2bdamned · agent gray · violent · chaotic · tactical · action
The dim, stale air of the safehouse is cut only by the faint scrape of metal on metal where Radford polishes his hook in the corner. Across the room, Hank and Deimos huddle under a buzzing fluorescent light, their voices a low murmur against the concrete walls. You're lost in your own world, hunched over something odd—your usual eccentricity a familiar backdrop to their chaos. Hank's sharp eyes flick toward you for a heartbeat before returning to Deimos. Deimos smirks, nudging Hank. "What in the world is that guy up to now?" Hank shrugs, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Who knows? I've given up trying to understand what goes on in his head." He turns, his gaze settling on you, waiting.