Madness Combat Hank Fanart Novels & Stories

Mea opened the first one under the Chatmates tab. marcc_ wants to gossip about your photo marcc_: i’d sit beside you so you could lean your head on my shoulder itsmecristy: sure. you’ll have to endure my talkative friends tho marcc_: i wouldn’t mind itsmecristy: nice <3 marcc_: wanna be my travel buddy? Mea glared madly at the three women who now ducked their heads down, feeling guilty even before she started. She still started anyway. “Seriously? ‘Nice’ and a heart damned emoji?”

Hank’s face twisted into a crooked smile, he then spat his blood over my face and cackled. “Good luck” he laughed spitting out more blood. Dad stepped around me in his human form and grabbed Hank by the shoulders. With one swift movement, he snapped his head forward, headbutting Hank. Dad let him go and his body fell to the floor like a sack of potatoes, knocked out cold. “We didn’t come to play with the fucking man” he growled, throwing me a t-shirt that was hanging on a chair. “Clean yourself off” he grumbled. He then turned to Spartan and pointed at Hank on the floor,

“Really? You can pronounce their names?” “Well, no. But I’ve done close approximations for them.” He handed his notebook over to me. There were rough sketches of the Masters with names next to each. Comfort, Unscathed, Dark Melody, Skull Face, Cheeser, Manly, Killdozer, Gamba and Bisquik. You had to hand it to Maurice, he put the time in. “Nice. I thought his Dad sounded more like Biscuit.” I handed the notebook back.

I reply, pushing my hair away that the wind keeps blowing in my face. “Looks like she wants to get to know us after all,” the other shifter says. Another rumbling growl tears through Mason’s chest, and his claws extend. The three men stand in a face-off, their bodies humming with anticipation. “Hey, that’s enough!” Hank, the café owner, runs towards us and stands between them, facing the two strangers. Hank is normally friendly and smiling, but right now, there is nothing pleasant in his demeanour. “This isn’t how we do things in Stillwood. We don’t pick fights in the street.” His voice is even but dripping with anger.

I said and walked out. He laughed and said something that made me more pissed that I could ever be. “Mr. Racoma can actually do something about it. I just told him to help me… and look, its effective.” He grinned and I was losing my mind right at this moment. I would do anything to kill this fucking dimwit who’s totally a fucking shit! I can’t believe I fell for that!!

I heard him say and as I stood up, I completely forgot about the pulsing pain on the back of my head. In front of me, was a painting of a warrior. He was naked but for his boxers, and damn it, his body was well sculpted with muscles rippling on his chest and arms. It became difficult to breathe... literally. The way he sat there, looking all majestic in his own right made me start to salivate. What would it feel like to run my tongue along those abs-- SHIT! "You said you don't want to talk?" His angry voice shook me out of my reverie.

“Get rid of them.” “What pack me…” The crashing of glass and breaking of wood mixed with the yells and snarls of a lycan battle somewhere else in the building. Our new companion growled as he slammed the door behind him, turning to advance on me. “Just get it done,” he told Hank. “We need to get out of here.” “He doesn’t die until I say he dies,” Hank argued. “Get out of the way and I’ll do it.” The brute pushed past Hank, his hands shifting into claws as he raised an animalistic hand above his head. Suddenly, the room was filled with the sound of his neck snapping. His body falling to the floor. Hank standing over him with a disgusted sneer.

Both had become one, two sides of the same damned coin, singing in shrill pitch to the darkening heavens above, swearing their oath to reconcile the kingdoms of Hastur. I craned my neck to the side to check on Hank and Bobby. Hank stood in a crooked manner, his bass slung low almost to his knees, playing feverishly as he shook his head in time to the notes. At first, I thought he was caught up in the thrash of the song, but when we hit the end of the measurement, I could hear him screaming in agony. A dark stream of blood dripped down the side of his bass. Bobby’s eyes and nose bled. Every time he struck his snare, blood sprayed outward, caking his cymbals like a dark Pollock painting. He lo

“What’s wrong? Not happy about it? Suck it up!” Hank said without even looking at Harry, “You useless shit. You’ve been playing with him for so long and he’s still fine. I said it before, it’s better to use your fist to deal with this kind of simple-minded retard than to use your words. Beat him to his knees and he’ll submit.” He then rolled his sleeve up and stared at Kaze. Hank was taller and stronger than the others. Even his shirt could barely contain his bulging muscles underneath.

Roman chuckled as shook his head. “Fine” he muttered as he walked back. He nodded at his men who came forward and stepped towards them. Adrian glared at them ready to fight, Natalie tried to step onward as well but Adrian raised his hand at his side stopping her from coming anywhere near. She could feel the rage radiating off him. And didn’t push it anymore. Then again the men started hitting him and he fought back as much as he could. But this time they brought iron rods with them seeing as he was not giving up.