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He had just come back from the mission.
After reaching his destination, he parked his hijacked motorcycle near an empty parking spot.
He then opened the front door, letting some scent of dust and woods getting flown outside of the building.
The Warehouse- or what he considered as his temporary home until further notice- looks the same just like the last time he left it.
He would bother to call Doc to check on his wounds, but that could be for later, as he didn’t want to interrupt the doctor’s evening sleep.
It doesn’t help as well as both of his two partners- Sanford and Deimos- are still on the mission. Maybe they went to Gil’s at times like this. Probably friendly chat or some shit.
He enters a large room which was used to put unnecessary boxes and other scraps inside, as they don’t usually used them after all.
He sat on a large wooden box and adjusting his position to make himself comfortable.
Then he waited.
…
…
…fuck it, it’s too boring in here.
He rested his right hand to his chin, try to think about something in his mind to entertain himself while waiting.
Maybe on how he manages to hijack a motorcycle to replace the broken van? Nah, too classic and cliché to talk about.
How about the time when he accidentally spook Deimos when he enters the bathroom half- awake this morning? No, that one had been talked about before.
About recent mission?
Hm, sure, why not.
He adjusted his sitting position again.
That mission, went to the A.A.H.W building, politely asking them for some stuff, snooping around their stuff, shooting the noobs, went further, found a batch of cloning chamber, destroy them, goes to the upper floor.
He grinned.
Yeap, that’s what he remembers.
What’s next?
Goes to the upper floor, found some noobs, shoot them, Sanford was there, he uses his hook yanking some agents, then-
Hold on.
Sanford was there?
He stopped thinking.
Why was he there? Didn’t Sanford have mission with Deimos today?
Wait, that mission was from three days ago.
He shrugged that one mind off.
Nevermind. Try again.
He inhale. Then exhale.
Okay, okay. Maybe the building doesn’t have an upper floor. I didn’t go to the upper floor. I went downward, to a basement.
He feels his right leg starting to go numb, then lifted it to his left.
At the basement, a couple of the agents arrived. Soldats even got dispatched. Ambushed them, manage to get wound up. Doc bring me the medicine, manage to patch me up before I start-
Doc? As in 2BDamned?
…Yeah?
He’s not supposed to be there.
He jolted awake from the thought.
Yeah, Doc was in his room, sleeping.
Or is he?
…try again.
Harder.
He sighed heavily.
…Okay. Maybe back from the start? I got an intel from Doc, telling me to raid an AAHW building not far from here. Hijacked one of them smooth motorcycle. Enters the building, killing the noobs, destroy the cloning chamber batch.
…
Go on.
He puts down both of his legs.
There’s a locked door. He couldn’t enter the door. Got help from his cousin to hack through the system, while he carefully playing around with lockpick to unlock the lock. And then-
…
Then…
He felt his head got hit with a pang of pain, like having a painful migraine.
He put both of his fingers to his forehead and massages it, trying to ease the pain.
Since when did he have a cousin?
Is he implying Deimos?
The pain in his head becoming more and more stronger. He hung his head low.
What are you trying to say?
How come he have forgotten the recent mission? Why isn’t he remembering anything?
What’s the beginning?
Where’s the end?
The head massaging becoming more to clawing the skin out. A thin drip of blood coming out from the clawing spot.
The pain, ..it’s unbearable.
He didn’t got this shit before he gets resurrected after The Club incident.
The Club.
Many Grunts were partying in there.
Then, a word came into his picture.
RESURRECTION.
Revive. Came back to life. Body, no, tube.
That cloning chamber room, the one where it’s located from his last mission.
God fucking damnit, his mind had to have fucked him up to tell that, didn’t it?
The pain in his head starts to ease a bit. His mind is still talking with the other.
What did you see in there?
Clones. Lots and lots of clones. They’re too young to know this world I’ve made.
They’ve made an attempt to-
He cuts of his thoughts and closed his eyes, trying to shrugs off the vision he had in his mind.
The pain in his head eases more by itself, until he felt good again. He lowers down his hands.
The question appears again.
What else did you do there?
…
I looked at ourselves. All of them. They were young there.
I never knew how much have I changed from how many times I have been resurrected back to this world.
Never thought a second that I would look back at myself again after all these years, not just from my dream. And there are lots of ‘em.
So,..
Hank lower his head more, as if he’s speaking to someone who acts as his therapist or some shit.
‘Did you DESTROY it?’ His mind gently asks.
The cloning chamber?
…
…
…
He shook his head slowly.
I didn’t.
I fucking didn’t.
Hot waters- what he would like to call it other than tears- starting to form over his eyes, then stacking itself up inside the goggle. It slowly blocking his vision, so he gently removes it, letting his teared- up eyes getting exposed to the outside light.
The water, it’s still flowing.
He looked up.
He never thought that one day his own mind would bring that shit back up again after seeing those fucked up shit from his previous raid. It’s not even a night time for God’s sake.
He didn’t know why he made up those previous made-up stories to his mind earlier. To whom he was going to fool?
He didn’t know.
He literally didn’t know.
He fell down onto his knees, embracing the pain he got by sudden falling from the impact. His legs were bled as it sliding with the floor. It hurts, but it doesn’t matter.
What hurts more was his emotion.
He tries to sob silently, but the muffled sound he made didn’t help out that much as it didn’t filter his runny nose causes him to feel like he’s sobbing much more than he should have.
Crying.
When was the last time he had cried?
Carefully, his arms embrace his feet, his body lean forward, forming a fetal position.
The rough cement on the floor doesn’t help at all, making the situation much worse than before.
He was known for not having little- to- no emotions covering all over his face.
However, on this specific evening, Hank J. Wimbleton couldn’t hold on to his years and years of struggle anymore.
He could've just continue to hold on ‘till midnight and cried himself to sleep, not letting anyone seeing him in this weakened state.
Another reason is that despite his part of the neck had been fixed to the comfort of his needs, it doesn't help that his vocal chord is still permanently broken and let out the sound of hoarsing monstrosity like a grotesque monster he was.
Sounds horrifying? Yes.
But he let it all out anyways.
-------------------------------------------------------
Doc was suddenly jolted awake by the sound of a grotesque- like monster coming from downstairs.
God, what was that horrifying noise?
Carefully, he got up from the bed- a mattress on the floor, to be precise- and get his M24 sniper rifle from the armory and went downstairs.
There, the wailing becoming much louder every second.
Doc could feel like both of his eardrums was about to explode if he stayed there a little bit longer.
While slowly moving forward towards the source, Doc’s mind wanders about of any possibility of where was the sound coming from.
Is there any MAG got lost and let out its feelings in here?
A decade- years old emergency alarm in the warehouse suddenly think that today is the best day for them to let out their majestic voice?
Is it a secret stress signal coming from Deimos himself that they all didn’t know?
Doc gets more closer to the source of the sound when all of a sudden,..
.. it stopped.
Not like becoming immediate silent after the sudden noise, but instead the sound is still there. It’s just that it becomes more quieter every step he takes.
He had reached the side of the door, not far from the crying noises. Then, he heard a voice, a familiar voice coming out from the other end.
“Shh, it’s okay there, you big lug. You’re fine now. No one can hurt you anymore,” A gentle voice is soothing the sobbing sound, making it to become much quieter than the last time.
There was a small whisper of, ‘Am I doing this right?’ and ‘God, what should I do now?’
Doc recognize the sound.
It was Deimos’.
Glad to know that both Sanford and Deimos have come home from their mission a little bit early than he expected.
He peered over to the door, putting his hand on its side and leaned forward.
He saw Deimos crouching on Hank, while comforting him as he patted on the man’s left shoulder. The latter seems to be crying before it now turns to a silent sobbing for God knows how long now, while Sanford attempted to lift up the person-in distress by putting his hands over his right shoulder.
He sighed deeply.
The sighing alerted all three, and they turn towards Doc.
“Alright, I’m here. What happened?”
“Uhh….” Deimos sheepishly grinned.
“…we don’t know?”
That raises an eyebrow on the latter.