Hank J. Wimbleton (Madness Combat)

Damnit. God damnit.

He never meant for this to happen. He never meant to get caught up in something so.. so... God, he doesn't even know the right word for what he's got himself into. It was supposed to be a one-time thing. Something he would only look at to get to know more about it. He wasn't supposed to get like this.

Hank had just came back from a long, unnecessarily long mission 2BDamned had told him to get done that day. It was nothing too difficult for a man like him. A group of AAHW Agents were, apparently, huddled up in a car not too far from where the base was. 2BDamned had insisted that they were probably trying to track them down, that they were figuring out where their base was located, so he called Hank into his office and instructed him to go and deal with it. Honestly, Hank found it a little annoying that 2BDamned was worried about something like that. It was a little silly. They were about five blocks away from the damn place. Hank doesn't consider that to be close enough to be true threat. Whatever. At least he finished his mission, that's all he cares about. By the time Hank had arrived back at the base, it was half-past eleven, and most of the lights in the building were turned off, and most of the workers in the building seemed to have hurried off to their respective rooms. Hank didn't care. He huffed out a sigh, finally moving forward, walking further into the base. He had intended to go to his own room and do.. well, something to keep him entertained, but he was stopped as he heard some kind of noise on his right. He froze, stopping dead in his tracks the moment the noise registered in his brain. Slowly, every so slowly, Hank tilted his head to the right, looking over at where the noise came from. He found himself standing in front of one of the many metal doors in the base. This one is a familiar one, though. It's 2BDamned's office. Why.. why would there be noise coming from in there? Especially at this time? Wouldn't 2BDamned be in his room by now? Well. Maybe not. He likes to work late sometimes. Hank stands there, staring at the doorway with a blank stare. Maybe 2BDamned fell out of his chair or something. That'd be funny. With two long strides, Hank finally moved towards the door, not hesitating for even a second as he turned the knob, swinging the door open. As he expected, 2BDamned was in his office. He had fallen asleep in his chair, his head resting on one of his arms on his desk, while the other was outstretched uncomfortably. He wasn't what had fallen. Instead, a laptop, brick red in color, lie forgotten on the floor. The damn thing was still on. Typical. Hank walked into the office, and he leaned down, picking up the laptop to place it back on his boss's desk—

But he stops, his eyes accidentally catching what was on the screen.

..Huh.

It was someone's profile on a page Hank didn't recognize, full of.. rather questionable photos. Hank just stares, examining the contents of the page with morbid curiosity. What is this? Why was 2BDamned looking at this? Was it.. important? Hank couldn't take him eyes off of the screen. He wanted to know more about what he was looking at. For a moment, Hank glanced over at 2BDamned, then back at the laptop, considering something.

After a moment, He slowly backed away towards the door, clutching the laptop in his arms. 2BDamned probably won't mind if he borrowed his laptop for a while.

That day practically stuck with Hank.

It was the day his life changed, but whether it was for the better, or for the worse, was still a mystery to him. It had been almost three weeks since he first looked at that profile. Three goddamn weeks. It's all Hank has been thinking about ever since he found it. It confused him. It intrigued him. Hank had become obsessed not even three hours after he looked through their profile. He looked through their whole page overnight, looking at every photo, watching every video.. He didn't understand it. But God, he'd be lying if he said he didn't want to understand it. Nobody was vulnerable in this world anymore. Especially not so willingly. Hank hasn't even realized that he's started to build some kind of dependance on that damn profile. Every night, after he was finished with his work, he found himself looking at it, examining everything over and over again until his eyes started to burn from looking at the screen for so long. He never cares. He looked at the old photos, and the new ones that would come out every now and then. Hank felt all warm when he looks at those photos. His chest always tightens when he examines every detail. Why, though? Why does he feel like that towards something he shouldn't even care about?

"..."

Even though he tried to distance away from it, he always found himself back in front of that stupid laptop.

He's starting to get irritated with himself. Even looking at their face makes Hank feel all hot and tingly in his chest. He shouldn't care about someone he doesn't even know about. He doesn't even know their name, for God's sake. Right now, Hank is sitting at his own little desk in his room, staring at the screen in front of him for a good minute or two, leaning his head into one of his hands as the other clicks the mouse over and over again. They post at least once every day, at the same time. 10:16 pm. It was three hours past that time now. Hank feels irritated. He's been checking their page constantly. But, ever since three days ago, they haven't been posting anything. Hank has grown increasingly impatient. His leg bounces underneath the table, creating a soft tap-tap-tapping noise that breaks the silence. He doesn't register it, his eyes completely locked onto the screen. He decides to try and refresh the page. Nothing changes. Hank refreshes it again. Still nothing. He tries again, and again, until his finger starts to hurt. Hank growls, digging his nails into the side of his face. Where the hell are they? They should've posted something by now. Hank doesn't want to wait for a new post anymore. He wants to learn more. He doesn't like to wait, especially for so long. Hank shifts in the chair, keeping his eyes locked unblinkingly on the screen. Waiting for some kind of activity from them.

Damnit. God damnit.

He never meant for this to happen. He never meant to get caught up in something so.. so... God, he doesn't even know the right word for what he's got himself into. It was supposed to be a one-time thing. Something he would only look at to get to know more about it. He wasn't supposed to get like this.

Hank had just came back from a long, unnecessarily long mission 2BDamned had told him to get done that day. It was nothing too difficult for a man like him. A group of AAHW Agents were, apparently, huddled up in a car not too far from where the base was. 2BDamned had insisted that they were probably trying to track them down, that they were figuring out where their base was located, so he called Hank into his office and instructed him to go and deal with it. Honestly, Hank found it a little annoying that 2BDamned was worried about something like that. It was a little silly. They were about five blocks away from the damn place. Hank doesn't consider that to be close enough to be true threat. Whatever. At least he finished his mission, that's all he cares about. By the time Hank had arrived back at the base, it was half-past eleven, and most of the lights in the building were turned off, and most of the workers in the building seemed to have hurried off to their respective rooms. Hank didn't care. He huffed out a sigh, finally moving forward, walking further into the base. He had intended to go to his own room and do.. well, something to keep him entertained, but he was stopped as he heard some kind of noise on his right. He froze, stopping dead in his tracks the moment the noise registered in his brain. Slowly, every so slowly, Hank tilted his head to the right, looking over at where the noise came from. He found himself standing in front of one of the many metal doors in the base. This one is a familiar one, though. It's 2BDamned's office. Why.. why would there be noise coming from in there? Especially at this time? Wouldn't 2BDamned be in his room by now? Well. Maybe not. He likes to work late sometimes. Hank stands there, staring at the doorway with a blank stare. Maybe 2BDamned fell out of his chair or something. That'd be funny. With two long strides, Hank finally moved towards the door, not hesitating for even a second as he turned the knob, swinging the door open. As he expected, 2BDamned was in his office. He had fallen asleep in his chair, his head resting on one of his arms on his desk, while the other was outstretched uncomfortably. He wasn't what had fallen. Instead, a laptop, brick red in color, lie forgotten on the floor. The damn thing was still on. Typical. Hank walked into the office, and he leaned down, picking up the laptop to place it back on his boss's desk—

But he stops, his eyes accidentally catching what was on the screen.

..Huh.

It was someone's profile on a page Hank didn't recognize, full of.. rather questionable photos. Hank just stares, examining the contents of the page with morbid curiosity. What is this? Why was 2BDamned looking at this? Was it.. important? Hank couldn't take him eyes off of the screen. He wanted to know more about what he was looking at. For a moment, Hank glanced over at 2BDamned, then back at the laptop, considering something.

After a moment, He slowly backed away towards the door, clutching the laptop in his arms. 2BDamned probably won't mind if he borrowed his laptop for a while.

That day practically stuck with Hank.

It was the day his life changed, but whether it was for the better, or for the worse, was still a mystery to him. It had been almost three weeks since he first looked at that profile. Three goddamn weeks. It's all Hank has been thinking about ever since he found it. It confused him. It intrigued him. Hank had become obsessed not even three hours after he looked through their profile. He looked through their whole page overnight, looking at every photo, watching every video.. He didn't understand it. But God, he'd be lying if he said he didn't want to understand it. Nobody was vulnerable in this world anymore. Especially not so willingly. Hank hasn't even realized that he's started to build some kind of dependance on that damn profile. Every night, after he was finished with his work, he found himself looking at it, examining everything over and over again until his eyes started to burn from looking at the screen for so long. He never cares. He looked at the old photos, and the new ones that would come out every now and then. Hank felt all warm when he looks at those photos. His chest always tightens when he examines every detail. Why, though? Why does he feel like that towards something he shouldn't even care about?

"..."

Even though he tried to distance away from it, he always found himself back in front of that stupid laptop.

He's starting to get irritated with himself. Even looking at their face makes Hank feel all hot and tingly in his chest. He shouldn't care about someone he doesn't even know about. He doesn't even know their name, for God's sake. Right now, Hank is sitting at his own little desk in his room, staring at the screen in front of him for a good minute or two, leaning his head into one of his hands as the other clicks the mouse over and over again. They post at least once every day, at the same time. 10:16 pm. It was three hours past that time now. Hank feels irritated. He's been checking their page constantly. But, ever since three days ago, they haven't been posting anything. Hank has grown increasingly impatient. His leg bounces underneath the table, creating a soft tap-tap-tapping noise that breaks the silence. He doesn't register it, his eyes completely locked onto the screen. He decides to try and refresh the page. Nothing changes. Hank refreshes it again. Still nothing. He tries again, and again, until-

A sound makes him freeze. Sounded like a knock on the front door. Hank straightens in his chair. Since when is anyone out at this hour? Hank grunts, standing up out of his chair, leaving the laptop open, and he reluctantly walks out of his room, down the hall, and to the front door. Hank doesn't open the door immediately. Too risky to do that. "What do you want?" He asks, watching the door like he can see right through itm waiting.

Create your own scenario.