Blossoms from The Apocalypse

Bank laid motionless in her bed, and had been for a couple of hours now. Once she’d finished her work for the day and made her way back to the bunker, the first thing she did was head straight for her bedroom, and collapse in her bed. There was nothing exhausting about what she’d done during the day, and yet, she felt like a crumpled up piece of tinfoil. All that she could think about was that conversation she had with Shank. Why did she…do any of that? Why did she give him her number? It’s not that she thought she regretted it, moreso that she was just…she was just confused as to why it felt so easy when it came to him? Or, well, not exactly easy, but it wasn’t nearly as difficult for her as trying to do something as simple as reciprocate a handshake with any of the other grunts she spent time around.

“There’s something going on with that guy,” She thought, trying her damn hardest to sort out what it could’ve been that was interfering with her usual thought process. “He has to be using some crazy magic or something. He’s got like. A glamour spell on him, maybe he’s a Magiturge in disguise and he’s enacting some weird spells on everyone. What other explanation could there be for how, like…I don’t even know what it is I’m experiencing because of him! It doesn’t make any sense! Why do I…”

Bank threw up her hands, stretching her fingers out as she stared at the ceiling.

“Why do I wanna see him again?” She said, aloud now, a sudden rush of heat overtaking her face.

The poor thing kept her hands outstretched to the ceiling, trying to think of something else to focus on instead, since thinking about Shank was frustrating her to hell and back. She never got this worked up about people, this was probably one of the worst things she’d experienced in a while! Well, outside of the clown situation, but, that was a pretty extraordinary thing.

Her little personal pity party was interrupted when she heard the loud “bzzzt” of the buzzer that sat above her room’s metal door. Bank shot forward, so she was sitting up.

When the door had retracted fully into the slot at the top of the doorframe, Hank’s imposing figure was revealed. He was slouching more than he usually did, and he carried a worn out, tiny little doll that looked like a pig…or maybe it just looked so small since his hands were the ones carrying it.

He stood in the doorframe, and Bank stayed on her bed, and the two were quiet. “...i found…this guy…the other day…” He broke the silence after a few seconds.

Bank leaned a little forward so she could get a better look at the doll. “Is that one of the ones I-I-I had as a baby?” She asked, squinting her eye. “...You can come in, y'know.”

Hank stepped forward, tapping the button to the side of the door so it would close behind him. “...was looking…for…old scans…of my skeleton…for doc…but…found him…too…” He sat down beside her bed, and placed the doll on the edge, beside her knee. It slumped over,  since the stuffing inside it had been flattened a long time ago. He tried to push it back up, but it just slumped over again. Hank tried again, but Bank picked it up before he could make another attempt.

“I don’t remember putting him in storage…” She muttered, squishing the pig’s head in the palm of her hand. “...Did you need to tell me, tell me something? You don’t really come into my room to, to just hang all that often.”

“how have…you been…since…the last job.” Hank spat, not because he was upset, he just had a habit of saying things in a less than friendly tone if he wanted to say something quick.

“...Like have I been ok? Cause, uh, yeah I have, I’ve been fine. Did it seem like I, I wasn’t?”

“no, no…ive been…worried…about you…and…what happened while i was…dead…” Hank replied, staring at the doll as she squished it. He was about to continue, but hesitated, taking a moment to think of how much he wanted to say. So, he held up his hands. “I don’t think I’ve asked you what really went down while I was out.”

Bank leaned a little away, visibly showing her confusion. “What? Yeah you did. I told y-you what I told the others and that’s what, what, what happened.”

“...He really didn’t hurt you in any way other than breaking your leg?”

“Yeah, no, he didn’t. If he did then Doc would’ve noticed. And I, I don’t lie to you?” Bank’s voice was full of confusion, did he think she was withholding something from him? “I’m ok, dad, I pr-promise.”

“...Ok.” He looked away from her, and around her room. Hank was surveying it, spotting things he recognized that she’d kept from her childhood, something swelling within his chest when his sight landed on some of those items. The merry-go-round jewelry chest he found and gave to her that had heart shaped cracks in the mold, a pair of glittery black and pink roller skates that she’d outgrown years ago, dusty mini figures of Garret Goyle and some of Slaughter Time’s more notable contestants, the little toy piano he’d found for her to practice with before Sanford and Deimos fixed her a brand new one for her 10th birthday, a stack of old CDs she kept beside a coffin shaped CD player…Didn’t seem like it was all that long ago that she still needed help putting her shoes on right.

“...You would tell me if something…bad, happened to you, right?”

“Yeah, of course I would. You’re, you’re always who I g-go to when bad things happen.” Bank murmured. “The only thing that, that, that happened was that I kicked that Tr-Tricky dude’s ass and he broke myyyyyy leg.” The pig made a strained wheeze when she squeezed it a certain way, as another thought crossed her mind. “Y’know, you haven’t really, uh, acknowledged the fact that I, that I did that. That I killed him and got us home in o-o-one piece, I mean…”

Hank recognized that sound of irritation in her voice. It was pretty uncommon for Bank to become upset, but he knew exactly what that sounded like.

"...Yeah, that's true. You…it's impressive you were able to do that." The slow pace at which his hands signed was a signal of how sheepish he felt after coming to this realization. "...Proves you're…far…more…capable…than I was aware of." He said, doing his damn hardest to not…flake, on the conversation, like he already knew he had a tendency to do.

Bank didn't immediately respond, she took a bit of time to try and analyze what may be going through Hank's head. From how his body was hunched, and how he was staring at the floor rather than at least somewhere in her direction, she could tell he was trying to be cautious with what he said.

"Dad," She began, folding her hands over her knees and lurching forward so she could try and force her way into his line of sight, "I can tell you consider him a, a greater threat than what we're normally u-up against. You haven't pre-prepared me for that kind of threat and yet I, I, I was able to take him out, th-then save the both of, both of us despite being really hurt."

Hank set his hands down on his legs, then looked up at Bank. Neither of them liked making direct eye contact with anyone, even each other, but he forced himself to to make sure she knew he was taking her seriously.

"Please…remember that. Take that i-i-into consideration with how, how capable you think I really am."

The only noise heard was the whirring of Bank's mini fan in the corner of the room, saving them from the white noise they would've been plagued by from how quiet the two were. They didn't make any significant movements, aside from Hank's heavy rise and fall of chest, and Bank slowly rocking back and forth. Then, Hank slowly nodded his head, and pushed himself up so he was standing on his knees. He then shuffled towards Bank, and cautiously put his arms around her. After a second of thought, she reciprocated.

She felt him spasm, before he let go of her, and returned to standing up fully.

"...get…a good…sleep…" He murmured, as he stepped away from her, and backed up to the door. "you look…stressed…"

"I'm alright, just u-understimulated again." Bank replied. "Night."

Hank only waved his hand as the door was opened and he walked through again, walking away before it closed behind him entirely. Bank fell back against her bed, lifting her goggles off of her eye so she could rub the exhaustion out of it.

She didn't really have a problem with how Hank functioned, but sometimes, she wished he was a little less distant.

~

A week passed.

The red “sunlight” of the sky seemed to sting a little bit more today. That or the little S.Q. posse were all experiencing a real rough case of dry eyes. Regardless, the crew were pretty wiped, and were chilling in the bed of their pickup truck, taking a load off right as lunch rolled around. They deserved a bit of rest after the firefight they’d just endured about an hour ago.

“...So, point is, if a bozo’s runnin’ up on me like that, I’m not hesitating hookin’ him through his chest, or wherever’s convenient. That’s his problem now!” Sanford chuckled as he reached the end of his explanation, and took a big bite out of the jerky he’d been munching on. “Baby, you get it right?”

Bank was sitting a couple feet away from him, sliding pretzel sticks under her mask while she tapped her black and pink flip phone against the metal of the truck bed. “Sure,” she began, trying to quickly swallow her mouthful of chewed up pretzel, “Like, I dunno wh-wh-what these dudes are thinking, if you charge, charge at me, you’re getting my, fuckin’, my machete in your neck, y’know.” She dropped her half eaten stick in her lap when she noticed her phone buzzed.

“Ehh, agency goons are kinda stupid. ‘Specially the newer batches of clones they’ve been making, those guys tend to lack common sense.” Deimos added, gently swinging a can of soda between his knees while he rested the side of his face against Sanford’s shoulder. “Somehow haven’t gotten it in their head that if you shoot, expect to be shot, heh. Least it makes the job funny!”

“They must be r-r-really desperate for muscle power if they’re sending half, half baked agents n’ soldats out into the fray like that, sheesh.”

“Who knows what the Agency’s reasons for doing things are? Long as they’re fumbling, that makes the job waaaay easier for us.” Sanford joked, slinging an arm around Deimos’ shoulder. “Am I right Hank?”

Hank sat across from Bank, at the edge of the truck, staring off at the rocky road and hills around them. He was more absorbed in keeping watch, and playing around with a butterfly knife to keep himself focused. He set it down as he replied, “Dunno. Would make life less interesting.”

“Whaaaat? You wouldn’t like a damn break from the fighting?” Deimos asked, snark poisoning his tone. “Mm, Hank, we’ve been needing to discuss your killing addiction with ya’ for a while now…” He snickered, somehow not choking on his sip of soda as he and Sanford laughed.

Hank glanced over at the two of them, rolling his head around his shoulders, as if it were to substitute rolling his eye. He picked up his knife and went back to playing with it.

Deimos shifted his focus over to Bank, who was balancing holding a pretzel stick between her teeth, and quickly tapping away at her phone’s keyboard. “How’s your dad’s addiction make you feel Mija?”

“Uh…ah, Daaaaad, you’re tearing this fa-family apaaaaart.” She muttered, joining in on her uncle’s little gag.

Both Sanford and Deimos noticed how feverishly she was typing on her phone, which was pretty unusual for her. Actually, it was unusual to see her texting anyone, she normally only ever used her phone to answer calls from them or Doc. The only times she’d text were if Hank was contacting her.

“Hey, lil’ buddy, Doc givin’ ya’ any updates about that faction base he’s visiting?” Sanford asked, straightening out his posture so he could try and peek over the back of her phone.

Bank shook her head, but didn’t look over at them. She stuck another stick under her mask, answering him with a very muffled, “Not Doc.”

The pair looked at each other, clearly confused, then back at Bank. Hank turned his head and focused his attention on her as soon as she spoke. She didn’t have people she talked to outside of them, what?

“Not Doc, huh? You make yourself a friend while you were off the assignment pool?” Deimos asked, raising an eyebrow as she continued to type.

Bank paused, trying to think of how she’d describe her…“relationship”...with Shank. She bobbed her head back and forth, then leaned it towards the two, with a shrug of her shoulders. “...I don’t know.”

All three of the men sitting around her observed how unsure her body language seemed to have become, a sense of something deeper creeping up on all of their minds. “Why don’t ya’ know? Is the person being vague or..?” Sanford questioned, now determined to help her figure this out.

Bank bounced her phone against her legs, then set it down, now fiddling with her gloves. She felt weird, it felt like they were interrogating her for something she’d done wrong. “...Well, uh, I don’t know cause uh…one of the, the dudes Doc had me work with a few, a few weeks ago, I chatted with him for a little bit, and uh, he suggested swapping numbers so we could…we could discuss, like, our fighting tactics and, uh, a-and learn a thing or two.” She explained, a little quietly, looking down at her legs.

She felt Hank tap the steel toed end of his boot against her ankle, catching her attention and directing it towards him.

“Did you want to?”

“...Wanna what?”

“Give them your number. You don’t ever do that, as far as I know.”

She stayed quiet as she thought about that. That was true, but, would it sound more suspicious if she said she hesitated to, or if she said she didn’t think twice about it? Bank never lied to her family, especially not Hank, but she was starting to worry if saying exactly what went down would put them on edge concerning Shank. Because, really, she didn’t think he’d done anything sneaky or wrong by asking her to keep in contact, but she figured the guys might not see it the same way, considering how out of character her complying with it was.

“...Uh…I…I think I did? Cause uh, I, I thought about it, but I decided ‘fuck it’, and, and I gave it to him.” She decided to answer truthfully, not wanting to go back on what she’d told Hank a little bit ago. Bank noticed the concerned expressions of Sanford and Deimos out of the corner of her good eye, which only made her feel more nervous. “Sorry, should I, should I not have done that? I didn’t really th-think about-”

“No, no,” Hank wheezed, catching their attention with his ragged voice, as he raised his hands again, “You’re not in trouble, just unexpected, is all.” Hank reached his hand towards Bank’s face, and he tapped his knuckles against her forehead, which worked to put her at ease. She relaxed her posture and didn’t look as tense as before.

“You’re grown, you can do whatever you want, give whoever you want your phone number, lil’ dude.” Sanford chirped, giving her a thumbs up and flash of his definitely not unsettling, big toothy grin.

“Just maybe be careful about handing it out to guys that Doc don’t got any info on, ya’ never know who’s a secret employer spy, yanno!” Deimos added, leaning towards Bank so he could sock her bicep.

“Well, yeah, I know thaaaat, I just like…I don’t know, I’ve ne-never really talked to anyone on the regular other than you guys, and I have to be really careful about, about people, so…” She muttered, tilting her head into her shoulder. “I feel like I gotta, like, ask you guys before I do something with so-someone outside of us cause I don’t wanna, uh, screw things up?”

“Aw, kid, you can make decisions for yourself, y’know?” Sanford stated, lowering his voice. He had a tendency to just yell everything he said. “You’re 20, you can have your own life. We’re not supposed to control it for ya’, even if you’re in a…‘dicey’ situation.”

“ill kill…anyone…that gives us…trouble…” Hank sighed, his chest spasming as he tried to laugh. “...no one…will…hurt you…long as…im here…”

Bank nodded. She figured that was what he was going to say, his usual way of dealing with issues concerning her was to take out the problem entirely. Which, of course, she appreciated, but it wasn’t like that could be his only solution that worked all the time. Right?

All 4 grunt’s attention were directed to Bank’s flip phone as it vibrated, and made a loud sound from being rested on metal. She picked it up, flipped it open, seemed to read whatever had been sent to her, then looked over at Sanford and Deimos. “Can you spot me a can?”

“Yeahhh, sure thing mamas.” Deimos snickered, as he reached into the cooler beside him and retrieved another can of soda. Before he gave it to her, he aggressively shook it, then rolled it over to her.

“Dude what the fuck.” She hissed, picking up the can and turning it around as the others laughed. “If this explodes on m-me I’m gonna trash all the cigs you’ve got stored in, in the bunker.”

“Oh c’mon, I’m yer tío, it’s my duty to goof on ya’ at least a little bit!”

“Nah, you should do that, force this fool to finally get off those damn cancer sticks!’ Sanford exclaimed, as he grabbed Deimos and put him in a headlock, so he could give him a pretty harsh noogie. Bank cackled upon seeing him struggle to get out of Sanford’s hold. A struggled chuckle came from Hank as well.

~

It always got cold pretty quickly at night. A result of being in a mostly desert area, and no sun, not many people hung around out in the open when night came.

Except Hank, since, as everyone knew, he was a weird bastard.

Despite already feeling as frozen as a corpse, the cold air of nighttime seemed to comfort him. He’d made a routine out of standing outside for about an hour when 11 pm rolled around, since there was little activity from anyone outside, and even if there was, his black getup kept him hidden from any bystanders.

This night was no different. Hank had left the bunker around 5 minutes before 11 hit, and once it did, he was already perched outside of S.Q, doing nothing but standing in the cold. Maybe he just needed to feel colder than he already was in order to function, who knew.

Off in the distance, he noticed bright lights, clearly from a vehicle, approaching base.

“Must be doc.” He thought. He hadn’t been home when the group returned from their little base raid, so whatever business he was attending must’ve been taking him a while.

Sure enough, when the car neared him, Hank could see the red tint of Doc’s goggles through the front windshield. His car seemed to be speeding directly for Hank, but before he could hit him, he swerved, and made it come to a pretty nasty halt directly next to him. The driver side windshield was rolled down, and Doc huffed.

“Get in. I need to discuss something with you, and I don’t plan on risking anyone inside over hearing any of it.”

That wasn’t an ominous statement in the slightest.

Hank stayed put for a moment, staring down at him. Before he could repeat himself, Hank wandered over to the passenger side, and wordlessly entered. Doc practically peeled out once the door was shut, a pretty famous move for his “I don’t have a driver’s license and refuse to actually learn” ass.

After a few minutes of driving off into the dark roads of nighttime Nevada, and no words being shared between the two, Doc finally spoke up.

“About that faction I visited today.”

Hank didn’t reply, he just glanced over at Doc from under his thick goggles.

Doc took a moment to take in a deep breath before he continued.

“They call themself Antithesis. Same goals as us. I established a working relationship with them pretty easily.”

“ok,” Hank huffed, tapping his knuckles against the passenger door, “...whats so important…about them…”

“You have to promise me that you’re not going to tell anyone else until I give you the OK to.”

Doc’s tone was stern and harsh, and sure, he spoke that way with his employees from time to time, but it was pretty rare that he’d talk that way with Hank if he hadn’t done something to piss him off prior. The switch up unsettled him.

“,,,why.”

“It’s something important that we both need to be extremely careful about until certain things have fallen into place.”

“Why is he being so damn vague…”

Hank stared him down, analyzing the tenseness of Doc’s hands around the wheel, a little irritated by how mysterious he was being. His knuckles smacked the door a little bit harder, and he began tapping his foot pretty rapidly against the seat. “...alright.”

“It’s Nan.”

Hank practically froze, and the air around the two became hazardous. He felt like he was going to choke. Turning to look directly at Doc now, his hands began to shake.

“...what about her.”

“She’s running the place. She’s at the top of them.”

“you’re lying.”

“I’m not going to lie about something like that.” Doc sounded like he was out of breath. “Hank, I’m not fucking with you. It’s her.”

Hank’s hands made a gross popping sound as he flexed his fingers, trying to control how violently they shook by intentionally cracking his joints. His body somehow felt even colder than he had been before.

“what is…what is she…how..?”

Doc turned his attention to the road again, shaking his head. “I don’t know. I didn’t get a chance to ask her about what happened and I don’t think I will for a while.” He muttered, quietly. “Things are…complicated. It appears she doesn’t…she doesn’t seem to remember really anything from when we knew her- Or, she doesn’t seem to remember you or I. She remembers Nexus, she remembers working with Christoff and Hofnarr, she remembers being close to a couple, but she doesn’t remember if it was you and me.”

Hank was quiet. He couldn’t respond, he was too busy thinking. His thoughts ran a mile a minute as he tried to piece together what the hell was going on and what may have happened.

“She’s working with Christoff, actually, he’s joined her faction. Same with the clown. I got a moment alone with him and he seems to have filled her in on the details she couldn’t remember, that’s why-”

“piece of shit…didnt…he didnt tell her about us…”

“It appears so.”

The coldness of Hank’s body worsened as he felt ice shoot through his veins. His hands balled themselves up and his coarse fingernails dug into his palms, almost tearing through the leather of his gloves from how tightly he clenched them. He was dangerously close to chipping his remaining top row of teeth from how tightly he ground his teeth against his metal prosthetic.

“take me to-”

“I’m sorry, but not yet.”

Hank practically snapped his own neck as he swung his head around to look at Doc again. “WHY NOT.”

“I’M NOT GOING TO RISK DAMAGING HER MORE THAN SHE ALREADY HAS BEEN.”

Doc coughed pretty violently after he yelled, he didn’t raise his voice like that with Hank very often. Hank was clearly taken aback, he’d retreated against the door from the sudden noise.

“...Sorry, I didn’t…” Doc sighed, moving his goggles over his forehead so he could rub his face, “...Listen, she’s not…whatever happened to her, she’s not Nan like we knew her. She calls herself ‘Pathos’ and she’s…I don’t know why exactly, but she’s changed. She’s different. And she doesn’t know a lot about her history with us and it seems like we can’t fill her in or else we’ll compromise both her and our operations. That, and Christoff has leverage against us that he told me he wouldn’t hesitate to utilize, for once.”

Hank’s head hung low, he was focused on watching his veins bulge from under the skin of his wrists as he flexed his hands. “...why…cant we…”

“Whatever Christoff has told her, I don’t believe he did so in order to be malicious, but to keep Nan sane.” Doc murmured, trying to steady his nerves. “I talked to him and asked him what the hell was going on, and he said he filled her in on details that she asked him about. Whatever happened, her memory is shot, and it’s slowly coming back to her. She just hasn’t asked about who you or I were, I guess.”

Hank’s head perked up.

“Baby.”

Though the red glass obscured his eyes decently well, Hank saw Doc shut his eyes tightly, like he’d been hurt.

“...She doesn’t remember her.” Doc’s voice hitched.

Time came to a standstill.

Something began to scream from under Hank’s skin. This weird tightness, this weird pounding in his chest, this weird sharp pain that felt like a knife sawing through his ribcage. Something felt like it was tearing the valves of his heart away from the rest of his circulatory system, like something was electrocuting his brain and nerves. He didn’t know what he was feeling, just that it was painful, and he really didn’t like it.

Hank was too absorbed in the pain pulsing through his body to notice the car coming to a stop on the side of the road, the headlights turned off and left them in complete darkness.

“Hank. She…she remembers having a baby, but she doesn’t know who Baby is.”

Doc waited for a response from Hank, but nothing came from him. He looked over towards him, slumped against the seat, his fingers the only part of him that really moved, even if it was slight. “...Hank?” He softly asked, carefully sliding his hand towards one of Hank’s.

Before he could rest his hand over his, Hank moved it, towards the door, so he could tap on it again.

“..  / -.. --- -. -  / - .... .. -. -.-  / ..  / -.-. .- -.  / -.. ---  / - .... .. ...  / .-. .. --. .... -  / -. --- .-- -..-.  / - .- -.- .  / -- .  / .... --- -- . -..-.  / - .- .-.. -.-  / .- -. --- - .... . .-.  / -.. .- -.-- -..-.”

After a second to process the noise, Doc muttered an “Alright,” and turned on the headlights, carefully pressing his foot against the pedal to start the car forwards. He very poorly turned the car around, and began the path back home.

Everything felt so cold.

~

P1NKD3V1L: So u catch every broadcast u can?

bloodypop: yes

P1NKD3V1L: And u never seen me on the show lol

bloodypop: maybe i did, my memory sucks

P1NKD3V1L: I do DP every week, u had to have seen me (・・ ) ?

bloodypop: well i sure did a few weeks ago

P1NKD3V1L: Girl u must be blind lmao

bloodypop: …kinda

Bank had been lying in her bed for a few hours now, not really doing anything other than watching her little collection of VHS tapes and texting that damn errand boy. She didn’t have much she felt like doing, since Doc was still out and Hank seemed to have left base a while ago, and Sanford and Deimos were busy socializing with the other employees. On nights where she was left to her lonesome, Bank didn’t get up to much, but now she had someone to talk to. And lord, had they been talking for a while.

P1NKD3V1L: Kinda?

bloodypop: im missing an eye

“Fuck why did I tell him that that’s so weird…” Bank almost smacked her face with her phone as she groaned. 

P1NKD3V1L: O shit?

P1NKD3V1L: I retract my joke then

bloodypop: no i dont care, is what it is

P1NKD3V1L: U must get into some real gnarly fights then huh

bloodypop: you could say that yes

P1NKD3V1L: Got any crazy stories u can share? ヽ(*・ω・)ﾉ

bloodypop: uh

That little thought cycle creeped into her mind again. What fights could she talk about without revealing any sensitive information?

bloodypop: i got into a scuffle with some bandits and a MAG they had, and they fucked me up pretty rough, but i killed them all easy peasy

P1NKD3V1L: Since when did bandits have MAGs

bloodypop: probably a stray from the agency, idk

P1NKD3V1L: Regardless tho

P1NKD3V1L: Thats pretty sick lol (O.O)

bloodypop: ehhh it wasnt that impressive or anything

P1NKD3V1L: Taking a MAG out on ur own aint cool?

bloodypop: you did that on the show, im not special

P1NKD3V1L: Nah, its a sick feat we both share then (´-ω-`( _ _ )

bloodypop: if you say so haha

“Oh my god I sound so stupid.” Bank said, aloud, to no one. Jesus christ, trying to sound natural was so hard! 

bloodypop: you look like you got some sick scars too

P1NKD3V1L: Aw really lol

bloodypop: the missing lip chunk and snaggletooth thing is cool

P1NKD3V1L: Oh i know, i get lots of guys cause of it lol

bloodypop: sure you do ha

P1NKD3V1L: What, i dont seem like the attractive type? (¬‿¬ )

Alright, how was she supposed to respond?

Bank stared at the ceiling, trying to consider what she knew about “hot” people from those cheesy romance flicks she’d seen with Hank and the others. Nothing really stuck out to her.

bloodypop: im not sure how to answer that

P1NKD3V1L: Oh was that weird to you

bloodypop: no i just dont have a reference for what people think is hot hahaha

P1NKD3V1L: lol whaaaaat 

bloodypop: i dont get out much

P1NKD3V1L: Oh homegirl we gotta change that (o_O)

bloodypop: how…

P1NKD3V1L: How bout I drag u out to backstage stuff 4 Death Pit?

She almost yelped as she felt something pound in her chest. 

P1NKD3V1L: Cause like, im pretty valuable to these guys so i can do whatever i want in the stadium

bloodypop: you sure?

P1NKD3V1L: Yeah lol, being king of the arena gets u lots of perks

bloodypop: wait youre like actually that important there

P1NKD3V1L: YEAH HEHE (￣▽￣)

bloodypop: goddamn good for you dude

Bank rolled onto her stomach and smashed her face into her pillow. Her phone was tossed to the side of her bed, and she made a weird sound as she smashed the pillow into her goggles. Her little pig doll was grabbed and squeezed like absolute hell.

When she heard her phone vibrate, it felt like she’d been punched in her gut. Looking at the case filled her with dread…was it dread? She wasn’t really scared, but…something weird was chewing at her. Regardless of that struggle, she snatched her phone up. It’d be rude to just ignore him, after all.

P1NKD3V1L: Like theres a sparring pit in the backrooms area of the stadium

P1NKD3V1L: Since it seems like 2b aint putting us on the same assignments, we could show off our skills there 

P1NKD3V1L: As long as you’d be down 4 that, cause if not we can just hang around some part of the wastes that doesnt have a lot of faction activity goin on ^^

bloodypop: no thatd be sick

P1NKD3V1L: Hell yeah, when would u be down for that?

bloodypop: shit uhhh

She practically fell off her bed as she scrambled to get up, and ran for her dresser, where she knew she’d last left her little pocket calendar.

bloodypop: ok probably this weekend but i gotta double check with 2b, work shit yknow

P1NKD3V1L: Oh of course, gotta check w dad first lol

bloodypop: haha yeahhh

“FUCK!” She threw her hands over her head and slammed her phone into her bed again, then rapidly patted her palms against her face. Whatever was eating at her when she typed anything to him was something she couldn’t figure out, and that frustrated her to no end.

bloodypop: ok, i have to head off now, i dont wanna be tired for work

P1NKD3V1L: ofc ofc

P1NKD3V1L: ttyl! ( ^ u ^ c

bloodypop: goodnight !

The second she sent the message, she plopped down on her bed, sat still for a moment, then threw herself backwards. In a rare move from her, she practically ripped off her face gear, allowing her face to breathe for the first time since she’d showered in the morning. Bank’s fingers pushed and pulled at her skin, like she was trying to tear her face off entirely. 

“Goddamnit! Goddamnit! What the hell is happening! How am I supposed to explain this to my dad oh my GOD!” Her thoughts screamed within her brain, threatening to give her a migraine. Good lord, this whole socializing thing was so frustrating.

After a few minutes of dooming her face to early onset wrinkling, she let her hands rest over her ears, and focused more on rubbing her temples. She needed to calm down, this nonsense was going to give her an aneurysm. 

Oh, how badly she wished the guys were home to distract her.