Work Text:
Somewhere in Utah.
Hank held the rifle tightly in his hands as he took aim. The crowds beneath him meant nothing. All he needed was his shot.
“Hank?! HANK?!” A voice over his intercom rang out. “What the FUCK are you doing in Utah?!”
“Taking care of some business, doc.” Hank replied, his voice barely a whisper. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Hey, dude, while you’re there,” Another voice popped up in his ear. Deimos. “Could you get me a Book of Mormon? I’ve been meaning to use the pages of one of those for a-”
“Shut up, I’ve nearly got it.” Hank quietened him down and readied his aim, just as his target was coming into view.
Charlie fucking Kirk.
Right in plain sight, the tiny faced man was. Arguing with someone over shootings.
Hah.
Hank squinted, finger hovering over the trigger.
Out of the target’s mouth spills six pretty little words.
“Counting or not counting gang violence?”
BANG
Hank pulled on the trigger, and the bullet flew. Charlie staggered back, blood spurting from his neck. And then he dropped. Like a sad sack of potatoes.
“Holy shit.” 2B guffawed over the intercom
“Holy shit.” Hank smirked, as much as he could with that jaw. “Right. I’m off.”
“Yeah, get back here soon as. Don’t want continuity breaking again, especially not in a dumbass fucking fanfic. Get back here so we can kiss sloppy style.” 2B laughed a little, voice fond.
“Of course. The sex we’re about to have will be amazing.”
Hank disassembled his rifle, calm as can be, and left the chaos of the scene in a swirl of wind.
“...He’s not getting me that Book of Mormon, is he?” Deimos sighed.