Blossoms from The Apocalypse

“Ok, listen, this is gonna sound r-really strange, but you just gotta hear me, hear me out on this, ok?”

Bank’s hands were flapping pretty quickly beside her stomach, her back was hunched like she was preparing to lunge at the men in front of her, and she was chewing on her lips underneath her mask. It’d taken hours for her to work herself up to this point, but she was going to beat herself up if she didn’t take action for something she wanted, for once in her life.

Hank was busy organizing(?) wanted posters in the corner of the common room, while Doc and Deimos were occupied with sorting through various files and data on a laptop, and Sanford was still chowing down on the large breakfast platter he’d prepared for everyone that morning. All of their collective attention was focused on Bank once she spoke up.

Doc leaned away from the computer, so he was relaxed against the cushion of their worn out couch. “What’ve you got for us kid?” He asked, folding his hands over his stomach.

Bank took a loud gulp of air, and held the sides of her tank top tightly as she tried to get her mouth to move. “Today, Today, I want to go out, ok,” Fear suddenly struck, and she paused, because she was intimidated by what their answer would be. The guys took notice of her hesitation; it was pretty obvious. Hank motioned his hand in a way that silently said “You can do it”, and the other three gave her soft spoken words of encouragement.

“...I want to go out with, with a friend of mine. We were talking, and I, I wanna go hang with them, on my own, we wanna head over to the Death Pit stadium-”

“You…you’re not partic…participating…” Hank chirped, almost jumping out of his seat. He felt like he’d just had a heart attack.

“NO! No, no no, we’re not entering the arena! I promise, I promise.” Bank replied, throwing her hands up like she’d been swarmed by the feds. “We’re just going to spec-spectate! Just watch, don’t worry, we’ll be fine.”

Hank stared at her, and slowly sat back down, his quick spike in adrenaline coming down pretty fast. “...ok…go on…”

The other guys observed Hank’s little moment of panic dissipate, then turned their focus back to Bank. “So yer just letting us know yer gonna be out for the day?” Deimos asked, sounding a little confused. Doc gave a puzzled tilt of his head, and Sanford just nodded and appeared to say “Sure thing!” through a mouthful of food.

“Um…I…I guess so?” She muttered, standing up straight. “Well, I, I was more thinking like I, like I had to…ask…if I could..?” She mumbled, looking down at the floor as she rubbed her cheeks. “...I-I know you guys keep saying that I’m, I’m big now so I can do what, um, what I want, but, uh, I don’t know, it feels weird not asking f-first…”

“Ah, well, ‘s appreciated, but kid, it’s your life.” Doc stated, waving his hand. “Just let us know when you’re gonna go out n’ get up to shenanigans before you do, that’s all.”

“Who…who are you…who’s this person…” Hank sighed, craning his neck so he could give himself a bit of pressure to keep himself leveled.

Bank flexed her fingers, then wobbily pointed at the computer. “Um, one of the, one of the guys Doc hires on, Shank, he has information on hi-him if you uh, if that’d make you feel better. I’ve been texting him f-for a little while now-”

“Oh, is that the Hank fanboy? You been gettin’ all buddy-buddy with him? That’s ironic, heheh.” Sanford mused, in between a bite of bacon strips and a swig from his bottle of whiskey.

“Sh-shut up, he’s nice! And really patient with uh, with how I talk and, and all that kinda shit…”

“Aheh, lil’ buddy, I ain’t trying to poke fun at ya’, it’s great yer making buds of your own!”

“Just kinda funny the first grunt you befriend doesn’t know yer the kid of their idol, heh.” Deimos chimed in, as he quickly typed away at the computer. “Ah, yeah, here Hank, guy’s from N.P.S, info on ‘em looks pretty alright.”

Hank got up from where he’d been sitting in the corner, and walked over to the coffee table Deimos and Doc had been working around, crouching down beside him so he could look at the computer screen. It took him a couple of minutes to read through the file and attached addendums to it; he wasn’t nearly as quick at reading as Deimos was. Bank stood in silence, a little anxious by what conclusion Hank might come to.

Once he was done, he grunted. “...doc…do you…trust him…”

He rolled his head from side to side, popping some stiff joints in his neck and shoulders. “Trust’s a strong word. There’s not much evidence I have on him that makes me think he’d act maliciously though, so I wouldn’t worry.”

Hank nodded, and focused back on the file in front of him. From how his mask moved, it looked like he was probably moving his jaw around while he was thinking.

“...just…text me…a few times…while you’re out…”

The little curly q strand of hair that had a habit of peeking out from beneath Bank’s bandana practically jumped as she perked up, now excited. “Oh, Oh ok, sure sure! I’ll, um, I’ll be fine, you’ll know I am, promise.” She cheerfully exclaimed, now bouncing on her heels as newfound energy rushed through her body. “Ah, I’m gonna go shower now, um, and I’ll probably leave here in an hour or so, uh, so, so if you need me to do anything just tell me once I’m dressed.” She said, as she began snapping her fingers, and jogged off towards one of the corridors leading into the common area, not waiting for an answer from the rest of them.

They watched her leave, quietly, since there wasn’t really much to say as she walked away. Then, Deimos stood from where he’d been rocking at the computer, and stretched. “Alright, see ya’ in a few minutes, I need a smo-”

“No, actually, that can wait.” Doc interrupted him, motioning his hand at him to suggest he sit back down. “I need to fill you all in on that faction we recently laid down a partnership with.”

“Without Baby? I can call her back, hold on-” Sanford was trying to say, until Doc interrupted him too.

“I don’t want her to hear about them yet, that’s why I’ve waited a few days to tell you. She’s been around us when we’ve gathered like this, I haven't gotten a window of time where she was absent.”

Both Sanford and Deimos asked, “What?” in unison. It was really weird that Doc would intentionally leave Bank in the dark about the going ons of their operation.

“What for? Why isn’t she allowed to know about what’s happening with them?” Deimos muttered, slowly plopping himself back down on the ground.

“Yeah, didn’t you have her go with that guy to deliver supplies for them like a month ago?” Sanford said, muffled again, as he finished off his plate of food. “Hank?”

The two men looked back at him, expecting Hank to argue against Doc’s explanation.

He shook his head.

“...whatever…doc says…”

That wasn’t what they were expecting to hear, so they were still a little perplexed. But they had to shrug it off, and returned to Doc’s gaze.

“Great,” He began, reaching for the computer so he could turn the screen towards him, presumably to pull up any information he was about to relay about Antithesis, “Now listen carefully, because we’re working with circumstances that are out of our routine…”

~

Bank found it a little strange that Hank didn’t say bye to her when she left the bunker. Sure, there’d been times where they didn’t greet each other or tell each other goodnight, but that was usually because one of them was busy elsewhere. They always greeted each other and said words of departure whenever they were in the other’s presence. So it was weird that he just kind of…gave her the cold shoulder when she left.

Was he upset that she was going out with someone he didn’t know? She knew Hank could be petty, he could be INCREDIBLY petty, but she’s his kid! He was never petty with her.

“…Whatever. I can always ask when I’m home.”

Once she’d left the bunker, it took about 5 minutes before Shank pulled up to S.Q, driving a pretty heavily armored truck. He must’ve been considered highly trustworthy over at N.P.S. if they let him take such a prized vehicle out for personal use.

Thankfully, this time, the car ride to their destination was far less awkward to endure. Small talk came easier if you were familiar with the person? Who knew! Her stuttering was still pretty rough, but at least she wasn’t dropping conversations prematurely like before.

The drive to the stadium wasn’t that long. About an hour after they departed, they were pulling into the back lot area of the giant arena, away from the hustle n’ bustle of regular fans who were arriving in droves to get inside. Bank probably would’ve shot herself the second they left the truck if she had to deal with that.

A few security checks later, and they were walking through the employee’s only backstage areas of the stadium, the normally loud and bombastic noise and energy from the arena itself muffled behind concrete and steel. There were TV screens placed periodically on the walls beside them, allowing whoever was walking through to catch the action despite being hidden away from it. At the moment, it looked like a small woman dolled up in tech gear and what looked like dinky little arcade toy guns was facing off against a Massive that was decked out in armor littered with spikes. Poor thing didn’t stand a chance.

“...So like, do the dudes running this shit just, just let anyone come on to fight, regardless of skill or qualification orrrr..?” She asked, trying to balance her focus between keeping up with Shank and seeing how this fight would play out. He had long legs, her tiny ass had to jog to keep up.

“Well, it’s not like I know anything about the vetting process, but from the look of the people that get let in, I’d guess they have some standards you gotta meet!” He replied, turning to look back at her, and stop in his place once he realized she was falling behind. “Not very often I see people that look like they’re teenagers, I haven’t seen anyone that looks like they can’t throw a punch, or doesn’t have at least a little muscle mass on ‘em, or like they’ve got a handicap that puts them at an unwinnable disadvantage, or-”

“YOU! SHANKY BOY! I’M GONNA THRASH YA’ ASS!”

The two were caught off guard by a loud yell, which was accompanied by heavy and quick footsteps that shook the ground pretty violently. From farther down in the hall, they could make out the figure of someone, who was practically charging for them. As they neared, their details were easier to make out.

Bank knew who this was; another regular on Death Pit’s roster of fighters, and a particularly feared one at that, Boxxy. She was a frighteningly brutal and strong zed, who dressed like she was always ready for an underground rave and copied the style of mask that Tricky guy was known for. Her K:D ratio was something to admire, as she had yet to lose a single match. No matter how unlikely the win, she could take it with horrifying results. Bank had seen a number of formidable contestants fall in a matter of minutes the second Boxxy was sent into the arena. Her fights were always pretty entertaining.

“I AIN’T LETTIN’ YA’ MUCK UP MY PERFECT RECORD WITHOUT SCREWING UP YOURS IN RETU- OOOOOO?” She exclaimed, coming to a cartoonishly quick halt as she neared Shank and Bank. She was absolutely massive, standing a head and a half taller than Shank. And he was already a pretty tall dude! “WHO’S THIS LIL’ MINI HANK LOOKIN’ GIRL WITH YA’?”

Bank was trying her damn hardest to keep herself together, the shaking and the yelling immediately made her feel uneasy.

“Hah, alright, Box, this is Bank, she’s my pal, I was gonna show her around the sparring area n’ test out our skills on each other.” Shank stated, with a cheery grin, as he patted Bank’s shoulder. “I dunno if you’ve seen her on the show, but this is Boxxy, she-”

“I’M THE QUEEN OF THE ARENA! IF YOU KNOW DEATH PIT, YOU KNOW ME!” Boxxy shouted, throwing her arms up so she could flex her muscles, like she was challenging Bank. “YOU COME DOWN HERE TO PRACTICE FOR A FIGHT OR WHAT?”

Thankfully, because Bank’s face was completely covered up 24/7, the fighters beside her couldn’t see how viciously she was chewing her lips, or how violently her eye looked around, trying to find something to focus on that wasn’t directly in front of her. She grasped at her jumpsuit, tightly, the veins in her hands bulging from her skin.

“...I’m…I’m just seeing…just looking around…” She muttered, through gritted teeth, trying her best to not sound put off. That’d just be rude.

“LOOKING AROUND? WHAT FOR? YOU SHOULD TOTALLY THROW YA’SELF IN THE PIT!” Boxxy shouted, leaning forwards so she was at a closer level to Bank. “OR NOT, ACTUALLY, YOU’RE A CUTE LIL’ THING! WOULDN’T WANNA MESS UP A LIL’ BABY DOLL LOOKIN’ THING LIKE YOU! THE CONTESTANTS CAN BE REAL BRUTES, YANNO?”

“Mhm!” Bank’s short response was forced from behind a tightly shut mouth.

“...ARE YOU A FIGHTER ANYWAY? YOU LOOK LIKE YOU GOT A BIT OF MUSCLE!” She chirped, a sinister giggle beneath her words. Before Bank could react, Boxxy reached towards her, and picked her up from under her armpits, taking her off of the ground and a considerable ways into the air.

Words could not describe the impending doom those she was about to experience.

“Woah, Box, you can’t just-”

“HEHEH, YOU MUST REALLY LIKE HANK, HUH? THAT WHY YOU BUDDY'S WITH SHANK OVER HERE? I DON’T HEAR MUCH ABOUT HANK KINNIES RUNNING AROUND-”

Boxxy received a quick but hard kick to her stomach, making her squeal, and drop Bank out of surprise. Bank scrambled to her feet and practically scurried away from her, her trembling hands held in front of her like she were preparing to grab anyone that came at her.

Shank reached towards Bank. “Hey, you go-”

“DON’T TOUCH ME, DON’T TOUCH ME, D-DON’T TOUCH M-ME.” Repetitive words came rushing out of Bank’s mouth once she opened her lips.

“...OH! WHERE ARE MY MANNERS? MY PAPAS TAUGHT ME BETTER THAN THAT, SOOOOOOORRY!” Boxxy shouted, holding up her hands as she took a few steps back. “YOU WANT ANYTHING TO MAKE YA’ FEEL BETTER? FOOD MAKES ME FEEL BETTER, WE GOT LOTSA HOT DOGS IN THE LIL’ FOOD STAND PLACES-”

“Shut up shut up shut up you’re so loud, you’re so loud.” The little wobble in Bank’s voice was pretty hard to miss, as was the way her body started to shake, as she slowly moved her arms over her ears so she could grab her head.

“Oooook, hey, Box, you’ve gotta go talk to Apollyon about your match schedule, right? That’s what you were on your way to do?” Shank spoke up, grabbing Boxxy by her wrist so he could prompt her to walk away with him.

“OH! PROBABLY? I DON’T REALLY REMEMBER HAHA!” She mused, absentmindedly following his lead. “WELL, NICE MEETING YA’ FRIEND, SORRY TO FREAK HER OUT! TALK LATER AHAHAHA!” Boxxy happily skipped away further into the hallway, not really caring when Shank let go of her and stopped leading her.

They watched as she left, and once she’d disappeared behind the bend of the corridor wall, Shank looked back at Bank, who was trying everything in her power to keep herself composed, despite already having lost that composure.

“...Hey, sorry, I didn’t realize she was gonna, uh, do any of that, do you want me to take you somewhere secluded? So you don’t have to worry about being seen?” He asked her, as he slowly walked back over, keeping his hands ready at his sides. “I know I certainly don’t like being seen when I meltdown either.”

“...when I meltdown..?”

“There’s a small storage closet a little ways down the hall, I can take you there to destress for a couple of minutes before we head off to the sparring pits, does that sound good for you?” Shank spoke a little more quietly as he got closer, trying to make sure he didn’t make too much noise. “Is it ok if I touch you so I can take you there, or do you just wanna follow me?”

“...F-F-F…” Bank forced noise out of her tightly shut mouth, still tugging and grasping at her bandana and headband as she trembled. She tried pointing forwards, and took a few wobbly steps in that direction. Shank nodded, then waved his hand for her to follow him, as he started down the corridor once more.

He led her to a door that housed a small janitor’s closet. Bank practically leaped inside, and backed herself up into a corner, hugging and scratching at herself as she made weird noises. Shank looked around to make sure no one was there to see them hiding in the storage room, then closed the door behind himself. In the darkness, he crouched down, a foot away from Bank, just observing how she was handling the stress.

“There anything you want me to do for you? Or I can get you that helps you get through this?”

Bank didn’t really register that he’d said something to her, she was more focused on staring into space, rocking back and forth, chewing on her lips and tongue and pulling at every part of body she could grab. Her thoughts were racing with sudden regret at ever thinking it was a good idea to go out on her own, that it was a stupid idea to try and open up and meet new people without her family holding her hand while she did so, that she was an idiot for thinking she could handle herself around people she didn’t know. If just being spoken to loudly and being touched was enough to make her lose her mind then clearly she wasn’t fit to be out on her own.

When she finally did realize he had said something, she then tried to focus on trying to figure out what the fuck was even the question. It took a bit of effort, but she had her little “Eureka!” moment, and figured it out.

“...Pr-pressure…”

“Pressure?” Shank asked, sounding a little confused.

“Pressure. Pr-pressure. Ah…pressure, press-pressure, on me, on me, on me.”

They shared a breath of silence as Shank tried to figure out what she was talking about, the loudest sound around them coming from the squeaking of Bank’s boots as she rocked back and forth.

“...Ya’ like pressure? Like, a real tight ass hug?”

“Mmm!”

After a moment, Shank shuffled forward, and cautiously put his arms around her, hugging her pretty tightly against his body. Bank didn’t move, or stop pulling at any place she could grab on herself, she just waited for the pressure to hit. But it wouldn’t.

“...m-more…” She squeezed from her throat, still breathing hard and heavy, digging her nails into her skin. Shank nodded, and tightened his hold around her.

Now she could feel it- pressure around her torso, pressure squeezing her muscles, stabilizing her pulse, and making it easier to think, allowing her to focus on something other than the panic she was experiencing. Pressure that was making her feel safe again, pressure that gave her body warmth and security, pressure that told her mind that everything would be fine, she just needed to steady herself. She didn’t need to grab and pull at her clothes or her skin, she didn’t need to grind her lips and tongue into shreds, and she didn’t need to pluck her eyeball out of her head. Oh god, thank the higher powers that pressure like this existed.

They stayed still, silent in the darkness, the only movement from either of them coming from Bank, as she gently rocked herself against him. Her little weird noises of discomfort slowly began to disappear, and her scrambling, scratching hands stopped trying to bother every inch of her body she could reach, coming to rest on her knees. Once she truly felt like she was put together again, Bank leaned away from Shank, which prompted him to let go of her pretty much instantly. The two stared at each other, like they were expecting the other to say something before the other did.

“...S-sorry about that.” Bank forced herself to cough in order to make noise, then actually speak. She slid her hands behind her neck, rubbing the small bit of her exposed hair from underneath her bandana. “I uh, I didn’t mean to freak, to freak out like that, I don’t-”

“Nothing to apologize for man, it happens.” Shank replied, showing off his gold fang as he treated her to a warm grin. “I’ve gone through it lotsa times before, I get it. Sorry for not stopping Box from, uh, doing all that, I didn’t expect her to get so touchy.”

“Is she just like that? Cause, uh, I’m pr-pretty sure I’ve seen her on, on, on the show, and she sure looks like sh-she gets fuckin’ handsy…”

“Aheh, well, usually she keeps it to herself! I dunno why you interested her so much.”

Bank nodded her head, then sighed, as she leaned it back into her neck. “Ugh…I still wanna, uh, I still wanna do the whole ‘showing off your skills’ shit, but um, I just…can we just sit here for a little bit before we g-go do that?”

“Yeah, yeah, ‘course, we don’t gotta rush over there anytime soon!” Shank replied, giving her a thumbs up as he smiled. “The arena event is gonna be going on the entire day, that room isn’t gonna see any use for a whiiiiiiiile.”

A sigh of relief escaped her mouth, and she rested her head in her hands, now fully relaxing into herself. “Thanks.” She mumbled, rubbing her face beneath her goggles. Thank god Shank was so nice, she had no clue what she would’ve done if he wasn’t so understanding of her.

…He was just so patient and nice to her…

~

Days where there wasn’t anything pertinent to attend to were dreadful for Hank. Not having something to do bothered him beyond belief; it’s why he never refused an assignment given to him by Doc. Like daughter, like father.

Since he wasn’t given any important task to take care of, Hank decided to spend his time sharpening all of the blades he kept stocked in his dingy little bedroom. He hadn’t gotten a chance to sharpen them in a while, and he’d certainly taken notice of it. Trying to cut an agent’s neck open hadn’t been as smooth as usual, the past couple of times he’d used his knives.

Hank’s collection was pretty impressive, so sharpening would take a good chunk of his day away. But he didn’t mind that, the repetition of the routine kept him in a trance that took his mind off time and all the things happening around him. It was like his own little slice of “zen”, a little peaceful and quiet activity he could do on his lonesome with zero input from anyone around him. The focus was a nice break from his normally muddled thoughts, which, sure, he could deal with the bustle of shit bouncing around his mind, but a moment away from it was greatly appreciated-

BAMBAMBAMBAM!

- Until a loud knock on his metal door startled him out of his focus, causing his hands to jolt, and the blade of one of his knives to nick his thumb.

“¿Qué onda, güey?” Deimos’ unmistakably raspy voice called out from behind the door as it slid open. When Hank turned back to look at the door frame, he found both Deimos and Sanford standing just beyond its frame, jovial as ever. Sanford was tossing a little white paper bag up and down in his palm. The thud it made when it hit his hand indicated it was stuffed.

“We just got back from a drive to find some replacement parts for my n' your hearing aids, passed by that little bakery that’s just outside Nevada Central n’ picked some stuff up.” Sanford explained, as the two filed inside the room. “Ya’ look like you could use something to chew on buddy.” He stuck his hand a little ways into the bag, then pulled out a fluffy pouch of bread that was oozing grease.

Hank stared at the little steamed bun in between Sanford’s fingers, rubbing the blood out of the cut in his finger, trying to figure out what was stuffed inside the bread just from the smell emanating from it.

“...carnitas..?”

“Y’already know it!” Deimos chirped, plucking one from the bag for himself, which he immediately tossed in his mouth.

“Give It.” Hank practically barked, shoving his hand out towards the pair like they owed him. Sanford gently tossed the bun over to Hank, who grabbed a dirty plate that was sitting on his nightstand and placed it over one of his knees, before he bit into the meat bun.

“Sooo, what’s the big guy been gettin’ up to this lazy sunday?” Deimos asked, as he plopped himself down on the edge of Hank’s worn out bed, while Sanford relaxed himself against the wall beside the door frame.

Hank was too busy trying to make it through a bite without letting a majority of it spill onto the plate before he could get it down his throat. Eating without lips was such a pain in the ass.

“...You've been working on the knife club, eh? Haven’t seen those girls in prime shape in a bit, I was wondering why you hadn’t fixed ‘em up yet.” Sanford murmured, after taking a second to look around at the array of knives scattered about in front of Hank.

“...didnt…have a lot…of free time…lately…” Hank mumbled.

“Ya’ never thought about askin’ Doc for some time off?” Deimos asked.

“...dont want it…”

“Ah, sure could use it though, man. You’re looking more like a corpse than you usually do!”

Hank scoffed, before tearing into the carnitas bun again.

“Mm. You’ve been doing alright lately?” Sanford asked, which got Hank to stop moving. Though they couldn’t actually see it, they knew he was giving him a taste of one nasty side eye.

“...doing fine…”

Deimos chuckled, catching their attention. “You sure about that? Seems like something’s eating at ya’. The emotional constipation just being aggressive?”

An annoyed grunt came from Hank, no answer. The only sounds he made were a result of him struggling to chew his little treat.

The other two men looked at each other, sharing a slightly uneasy glance. They waited until Hank had gotten his food down before trying out a different tactic.

When Hank extended his hand behind him again, they knew what to do.

“...another-”

“Nu-uh, not ‘til ya’ start talking buddy.” Sanford interrupted him, prompting Hank to snap his head around to stare him down. The staring contest was tense.

“...wasnt hungry anyway.”

Deimos patted his hands against the mattress, a sharp whistle prefacing his words. “We can see yer nose cartilage twitchin’, don’t deny it.”

Hank raised his arm and tapped the exposed muscle of what was left of his nose, unsure if Deimos was just teasing him or not. When he set his hand back down, he leaned his head back, relaxed against his shoulders, and sighed.

Offering his plate towards Sanford, he simply grunted. That was enough of an answer for the pair.

Sanford reached into the small paper bag again, and set another carnitas bun down on the plate. When Hank retracted it back into his lap, he asked, “There something going on with Baby?”

Hank shook his head. “...what…makes you…say that..?” He mumbled, as he took another bite out of his fresh bun.

“We ain’t stupid, seems like there’s something going on with her, or at least something going on with you n’ Doc related to her.”

“Yeah, it’s real weird that Doc would wanna purposefully leave her in the dark about something all of us are in on, and even weirder that you don’t put up a fight about it. What’s going on?” Deimos added, his jovial tone settling into a slightly more serious one.

Before he spoke, Hank (attempted to) wolf down his snack, somehow forcing himself to not choke through sheer will, as he adjusted how he was sitting on his bed. Now facing the two men, his fingers twitched as he raised his hands.

“I can’t tell you what’s going on, but Baby isn’t the focus of it.”

The look of surprise on both Sanford and Deimos’ faces wasn’t all that unexpected to Hank. He himself didn’t know why he let up and decided to talk so easily, it usually took a lot more prying to get anything out of him.

A loud “Hm!” came from Deimos as he folded his hands over his chest. “Can we at least know why ya’ can’t tell us nothing? Yet?” He asked, furrowing his brow as he tried to think of any explanation to his question.

The dark figure before them slowly titled his head back and forth, his fingers wiggling as he thought of what to say. “...Has to do with stuff from my n’ Doc’s younger years. Don’t wanna talk about it, I know he doesn’t either.” He paused, and squeezed his hands together, needing another moment to figure out his sentences. “Tricky situation, can’t tell you much else than that.”

“Would Baby be hurt if she knew what was going on with you two?”

“I don’t know. She…”

Hank had to pause again, as he came to a troubling realization.

“...She’s getting harder to read these days…”

Despite the fact that neither Sanford nor Deimos were the ones with Hank’s brain powering them, they could sense a certain…dread…crash over him like a tsunami.

Uneasy quiet enveloped the three of them, none really sure of what to say or do next…until Hank shrugged.

“...shes tough.”

Sanford raised an eyebrow at Hank’s statement, while Deimos made a confused frown. Was he just gonna brush it off like that?

Hank took notice of their confusion. “Kid can handle it when it comes her way. Just gonna let her enjoy things as they are before it inevitably changes.” He explained, waving his hand. “You know how much she hates change.”

Deimos scoffed at that. “Yeahhh, poor thing would rather kill a god before she let anything about her life budge at all. Can’t blame her, but holy shit, heh.”

It took them a second, but the other two men quietly snickered.

“Mm, well, you’ve been unnaturally cooperative with us,” Sanford mused, shuffling closer to the bed and knife pile, “So here’s the rest of these puppies as a thanks. There’s something like 5 more buns in there.”

Before he could even set the bag down beside him, Hank snatched it out of his scarred hand, and dumped the remaining buns onto the plate in his lap. He raised it up to just above his chest, and began nibbling at the little treat pile he made.

“Hey now, we didn’t spend months helping you learn how to eat again after yer jaw got all fucked just so you could eat like a dog!” Deimos exclaimed, cackling to himself as he pushed himself forwards, so he could give Hank a light punch to the back of his shoulders. Hank’s torso jolted in a way that suggested he was trying to laugh too.

He reached behind him so he could smack Deimos’ fist away. “youre…one…to talk…” He wheezed, nodding his head towards Sanford, who gave him a puzzled grin. “...this guy…cooks…you act like…you’ve never…tasted food…before…puerco…”

“PIG?! Pinche cabrón, sorry that I like my husband’s cooking! It’s real sad you don’t get to know what that’s like!” Deimos exclaimed, erupting into furious cackling as he flipped Hank off. The other two couldn’t help but crumple into laughing fits alongside him.

“...all…he makes…is soup…”

“Yeah, and I make a damn good soup. Don’t act like you don’t get all relieved when you see me working at the stove.” Sanford retorted, treating Hank to another one of his definitely not unnerving in the slightest grins. Hank just shook his head, and returned his focus on consuming the rest of his reward.

He didn’t normally like all the cheery noise that was brought wherever Sanford and Deimos went, but something about it felt a little comforting at the moment.

~

bloodypop: im still ok. dont worry

Normally, Bank wouldn’t have felt impatience creep up on her so quickly when waiting for a text back from anyone, but she had a small fear that she’d get in trouble for being distracted with her current activity and not responding to the next text she was about to receive. Which was pretty silly, since it only took about half a minute for a response.

murderfaic: ok. are you gonna be home for dinner

bloodypop: probably, will tell you if things change

murderfaic: then stay alert

bloodypop: will do

“Hey, you ‘bout rested up yet?” She heard Shank call out to her from the other side of the room, where he was stretching his arms back and forth over his chest and around to his back. “Don’t mean to sound pushy, I just prefer practice with another person n’ not those holograms!”

It’d been around an hour since the two had found their way to the sparring pits Shank had told her about. They weren’t all that special, it was just your average backroom area turned into a sort of mini-combat training gym, where the walls were lined with various weapons of all kinds, and benches were placed in a way that formed tiny arenas where people were supposed to train. There was a somewhat high tech looking projector situated above these little rings, that, with a couple of pushes of buttons at the keypads situated along the walls, would display holograms that one could fight against.

Shank first demonstrated how the holograms worked, by giving off a pretty lackluster combat performance against some of them, just to familiarize Bank with it. Unbeknownst to him, she was already more than well antiquated with the sleepwalker program, since that was how she began her combat training when she was a young tween. It was just a little more advanced than what she was used to, since the VR part of it was actually real life now. Those training buddies didn’t look any different to what she already knew, though.

They’d been taking turns taking on waves of the training buddies, upping the difficulty on each new attempt as they both worked through their warm up. “Warm Up” was too weak a phrase, but for those two, it was the best way to describe it. That was until they both took a good 10 minute break, where Bank had taken her chance to update Hank about her well being.

She was a little surprised by his question, as she had completely forgotten the original idea was to face off against each other. But being reminded that that was what she was here for reignited the excitement she’d felt about going out today.

“Right, I’m, uh, I’m good to go,” She replied, quickly stuffing her pager inside the little travelbag she’d brought with her, “Do you, uh, did you wanna just do l-like hand to hand or uh, you wanna use those dummy weapons on the w-wall orrrrr…”

“Oh those aren’t dummy weapons, heh. We can go weaponless if you want, I wouldn’t wanna slice you up or nothing serious like that!” He chirped, whistling an upbeat tune as he messed with the settings of the wall mechanism, configuring the match settings for a round of fighting between the two of them. “You got any restrictions on how we fight? Like, how rough, what kinda tactics are allowed, where we can hit, any of that?”

Bank looked off into the distance as she thought about that. She hadn’t even considered the idea of rules or limits, which was strange, because she would’ve needed to come up with some sort of explanation that wouldn’t sour Hank’s opinion on Shank if she came back all bruised and bloody from the kind of sparring she’d been expecting to get up to with him. While she considered her options, she slid the top half of her jumpsuit off of her shoulders, and stretched her arms around her body as she shuffled over to one end of the mini arena.

“Uh, I guess just, don’t try to like, br-break my bones or anything like, like, like that. And, uh, no gut punches, I just started m-my period today. Aside fr-from that, go nuts?” Bank stated, as she raised her fists and adjusted how she stood, so she was ready when he came at her.

“Aw, sorry ‘bout that, I always hated the first day the most. But ah, if that’s it, then for sure shortstack!  Don’t worry about nothin’ with me, you can do whatever, I don’t care hehe.” Shank murmured, as he too settled into place opposite from her in the arena.

Bank tilted her head. “...He knows..?”

“I’m ready once the alarm buzzes, you too?”

“..Mhm.”

“Tight!”

The air felt tight around Bank as she listened to the pre-match timer countdown to start, like this was some super important test she was about to endure and needed to prepare everything within her in order to pass. She knew if she lost a round to him, he wasn’t going to think less of her, but wow, did the tension in her body certainly make her think otherwise. Was this really that important to her social life? Good lord.

BZZT!

Without a second thought, the moment she heard the buzzer sound, Bank took off running towards Shank, and he did the same. Almost like they were mimicking the other’s movements, they both wound their arms back in preparation to punch the other. But as they neared, and Shank threw his hook, Bank practically snapped her body to the side, and instead dodged. Before he could react properly, she flung her arms around his waist, and swung herself back, forcing him to follow. Bank let go and hopped away mere seconds before his head and shoulders were smashed against the floor, and a loud gasp of pain was ripped from Shank as he crumpled. Bank’s eerie stare would have burnt a hole through his skull with how focused she was on watching him recuperate, then painfully pushed himself to his knees.

She was a little afraid to see how he’d react to being beaten so quick- she’d heard countless stories from Hank and her uncles about how touchy defeat was for most grunts, and she’d seen it first hand while out in the field. Bank knew better than to expect the same kind of violent reaction when they had explicitly agreed to this, but watching him slowly pull himself up…anxiety rushed through her veins regardless.

“...Ough, god damn, you can toss people around just like that?” Shank groaned as he came to stand, rubbing the back of his neck and shoulders forcefully. A flustered grin was plastered across his face.

That spike slowly began to dissolve as she watched him laugh about it. Bank moved her hands around her biceps, and squeezed the scars around them tightly. “...I, uh, I-I’m just strong enough t-to, I guess. I pull that move on my, m-my, um…on Hank, all the time, it pisses him off, ahaha.” She muttered, looking down at her feet. “I’m constantly w-working to get my strength up.”

“You can pick up and throw down someone like HANK?” He exclaimed.

It caught Bank off guard, and made her shift her gaze onto him, where she was met with a bright face that screamed wonder.

“Holy shit, you’re incredible!” Shank mused, a giddy tone in his voice.

The sound of someone so awestruck over something she could do made Bank feel this weird prickly sensation pulse through her body. Like wave after wave of goosebumps, or like she was receiving weak electrical shocks to her body. It was…strange…but a kind of strange that she…liked? It didn’t really feel all that bad…Maybe this was the kind of ego boosting feeling that her dad talked about getting and enjoying from seeing his wanted posters.

Maybe this was a good feeling?

She was too focused on deciphering what she was experiencing to notice Shank moving back into his starting position in the ring, until he said her name. She stared at him for a couple of moments, before a chill ran through her body, and she regained full focus.

“Ah, uh, sorry, sorry. You don’t, you don’t wanna take a quick br-break after that?”

“You kidding? Hell no, let’s get right back to it, that felt great! I wanna see what else you got.” He eagerly explained, patting his chest as if he were inviting her to hit him again. “Ready to tussle?”

Bank was a little shocked with his enthusiasm- but then that sensation ran through her skin again, and she was certain that what she was feeling was good.

“...Yeah, yeah, ready again, l-l-let’s go, heh.” She sighed, and, unexpectedly, even to her, she laughed, and it sounded genuine. She didn’t catch it, but the sound brought a delighted look to his face.

Once again, positioned opposite of each other at each end of the ring, the two stared each other down with the razor focus of a blade as they waited for the buzzer to sound. Eager to pounce again, the second it did, they bolted. Contact was made when Shank managed to land a grab on one of Bank’s arms, allowing him to spin her around and pin her back against him. Before he could make another move, Bank swung her head back against his chin, throwing him off just enough to where he let go as he stumbled back and yelped.

“Oh you’re vicious!”

Immediately turning on her heels, she launched herself at him, just as he regained his composure. They both let out pained yells as they swung at the other; Bank’s fist collided with the side of his jaw, and Shank’s elbow was rammed into her ribs. Bank gasped for air as her breath was knocked out of her, allowing Shank the opportunity to get the upper hand on her, and very swiftly trap her in a horribly tight headlock. Bank grabbed at his arm, digging her nails into his skin, as she thrashed against him, trying to get loose. But Shank kept his hold, refusing to relax his strength for even a second. Bank struggled, and struggled, and kept struggling; normally, she’d never resort to this so quickly, but she didn’t want suspicious bruises to explain away when she arrived home. So, she slapped her hand against the floor rapidly, and wheezed, “Mercy..!”

Almost instantly, Shank unhooked his arm from around her neck, and instead lifted her up in order to straighten her out, gently holding her as she violently coughed. It didn’t take long for her to regain steady breath, and once she had, Bank relaxed against him, slowly sliding a set of her fingers across her neck to feel around. Nothing felt wrong externally, and she certainly didn’t feel something wrong internally; Thank God.

“Hah, ok, I’m fine…cool…”

Bank felt herself be jostled around as Shank gently shook her, turning her attention to his worried smile.

“Sorry, that too much? I was just about to let go.” He asked, gently, an embarrassed chuckle beneath his words.

She feverishly shook her head. “No, no, no. I’m going a-a-all out on you, I want you to, to go all out o-on me, ‘else it’s not fun.” She explained, rolling her head back against her neck and shoulders. “There’s n-n-no point if we’re both ho-holding back.”

Excitement returned to Shank’s smile. “Hell yeah, you get it!” He cheered, which got Bank to laugh again.

Thank goodness her face was covered, because Bank felt a peculiarly warm feeling flush over her cheeks when she observed how his expression softened at the sound of her laughter. She wasn’t really all that good at identifying emotions in other people, but she had a feeling that was a sign of…something positive, concerning his opinion of her.

“You should probably take a few minutes to recover though, getting choked out’s kind of intense, heh.” He muttered, patting her back as he led her over to one of the benches bordering the ring. She complied, because, well, yeah.

Once rested upon, they returned right back to the ring, right back to the action. Their shared interest in just bodying someone else was such a brilliantly wonderful coincidence, as it made Bank’s desire to interact with another person skyrocket from its previously apocalyptically low level. It certainly helped that Shank was pretty damn good at fighting, and posed a challenge to her; he didn’t go down with just a strong left hook and swift kick to the knees. That made things far more exciting for her. And, well, how sweet and friendly a guy he was just the cherry on top for her.

For once in her adult life, she was fairly certain she could call someone her “friend,” and actually mean it.

~

By the time they’d called it quits, they’d thoroughly worn each other out, and were more than happy to make their way home. With little trouble returning to the truck, aside from a quick detour when they ran into that Boxxy chick again, they were off on their way back to S.Q. an hour before Bank’s usual dinner time.

When they arrived, the red sky was dimming, and most of S.Q’s employees were busy elsewhere from the garages that led into base. So, they were mostly left to their lonesome when they rolled up. Bank felt a strange pang in her chest when she thought about leaving the car. But, alas, she had to.

“...I, uh, I really wanna do, uh, do th-this again. Or, like, just hang out again. Y-you’re cool.” She said, before she hopped out of the truck.

Shank snickered. “Heh, well good, I was hoping the same. You’re a tight chick!” He replied, leaning back into the driver’s seat as he snapped his fingers and gave her a show of his finger guns. Once again, he made her laugh.

Bank dipped her head as she finally exited, and began to walk off. Then, she realized she literally forgot to say “Goodbye,” so she turned around and flapped her hands at him as she continued to walk away, backwards. The gesture seemed to amuse him, because she could see him laughing from behind the window, and he repeated the motion. Thank goodness, he was so cool.

The squeal of tires echoed as the truck pulled out and drove off. Then, she was left in relative silence as she made her way to the entrance to base…but she felt the presence of someone in there with her. She didn’t have any psychic abilities or anything like that, but she could just sense another person watching her. So, she looked over to where she figured someone would be hiding, or rather, waiting, and clapped her hands.

“Hi. I, I know you’re there Hank.” She called out, now rubbing her hands together.

It took a few moments, but Hank’s large figure appeared before her, his red goggles appearing to glow in the darkness as he stared down at her. He muttered a short, “...hi.”

The two stared at each other in silence for a few moments, then began to walk together.

“...was…he nice…to you…”

“Mhm.”

“nothing…happened?”

“No, n-n-nothing bad happened. We just hung out at, at, at the stadium and shot the shit.”

“...you’re not…hurt then…”

“Mhm, I feel great.”

Her tone may have suggested otherwise, but Hank knew his daughter just sounded like that. He knew he could trust her to be honest with him.

“What’s, uh, who’s making dinner?” She asked, when she looked up at him, trying to read his body language to see if he was relaxed or not. It seemed like he was.

“...deimos…making…steaks…”

Bank slapped her hands together. “Fuuuuck yes, I wanna t-tear into something, hah.” She murmured, excitement once again flashing her within her mind.

Both father and daughter appeared to be satisfied with how the day unfolded, and their night was uneventful, aside from their nightly routine of a cheery banter filled dinner, and relaxing until they went to bed. Thank god, nothing catastrophic happened during the day. That was what both of them had feared the most.

Maybe this change in Bank’s life would be a welcome one, afterall.