Alright, here we go:
Two bullets flew through the air from the darkened doorway, leaving the silenced pistol with brief explosions illuminating a familiar bandaged figure, wearing red tinted goggles and combat gear. They flew to their targets and spread chunks of what was until recently the brain of the operator across his console. The corpse hit the console and as gravity took a final hold, it dragged down the screen, leaving a bloody smear.
Hank looked at the door controls and shut the door behind him. He pulled the corpse out of the way and wiped his forearm across the screen, removing most of the human debris from the display. He unclipped a security badge from the now stained shirt of the man and glanced at what it said. Pocketing the tag, he started to press buttons methodically. The display clicked and changed to his liking, as he progressed through the codes, making his move towards ends unknown.
Behind a desk in a darkened office, a silhouetted figure with an unmistakeable hair style sat up, removing his boots from the desk, anger in his maddened eyes. He slammed his fist on the writing pad, which flipped over to reveal a console, which he started hitting feverishly.
"YOU CANNOT KILL CLOWN! ERROR!" Flashed up on the screen in front of Hank in a shower of static and his typing stopped. He peered at the red flashes mixed in with the blackness of beyond. As Hank was about to resume his task, he saw the Clown sitting there, bashing at the console in front of him. Their eyes met and both understood the stakes being risked.
"It ends." Hank said. His brief statement was greeted with a canned laughter track over the speakers and the overwhelming sense that someone else was really laughing. As the imported hilarity faded, there was one male laugh, still giggling uncontrollably. The Clown stared at the screen, cold and emotionless.
"KNOCK KNOKC!" The words appeared on the screen and the clown knocked twice on the desk.
"Who's there?" Hank typed in, carefully.
"DISCO!" Came the response, the clown's face in the screen.
The camera pulled back, exposing the desk again and a large red button. "DISCO-" a bunched fist came crashing down on the red button and Hank's screens went blank. "NNECTED!" The laughter started once again and the clown threw a bottle of spirits from the bottom drawer of the desk at the security camera, blacking out the signal.
A deep rumbling engulfed the room that Hank was sitting in and the chair started to move across the room. He tried to stand and as the lights went out, to be replaced with the flashing red of the emergency system, he managed to gather his balance and the quake subsided, with the room surprisingly still in tact. Hank tapped at the keyboard, noting that nothing in the room seemed to respond to his commands.
Moving back to the door, he pressed the release key. But was greeted with a red flash and the indication that the door remained locked. He pulled out the swipe key and pulled it through the machine, before opening the doorway and going back about his business.
The corridor was dusty and somehow unfamiliar. From the distance, he heard gunfire, perhaps two floors above him. His brain being hardwired for combat, he made the decision to press on and discover what was going on. The rhythmic crack and snap of shots was most likely supplied by automatic rifles, he concluded. As he rounded a set of stairs and looked up, he found a corpse slumped in the stairwell, an AK-47 slung across his shoulder. No uniform or markings on the skin, but certainly not the usual agent type that the clown had sent to try and kill him of late. If not by anything else, the sandals gave this corpse away.
Hank grabbed the gun and two clips, before ascending another flight, towards the fire fight that was raging above. A shaft of sunlight lanced down the stairwell, as a door opened, causing Hank to pause, using the stairs above him as cover. A shout came through the corridor above him and he did not understand the language spoken. The door blew to again and Hank made his way up the stairs.
Outside, there was a pitched battle going on in the sandy compound. Gunfire was sporadic and messy, bullets pinging off the buildings and the wind was whipping the sand around into everyone's eyes. Neither side of the belligerents wore uniforms, making it difficult to tell one side from the other. As Hank watched, he decided that this must play into his hands, as they could all be called enemies. A group of men flinched and ducked as an explosion sounded nearby and he bolted from the door, staying low and moving along the edge of the building, trying not to draw attention to himself.
Stopping behind a pile of crates, he took stock of the situation. His silenced weapon would not draw attention to his presence, but the ammunition was precious and most of the combatants were armed with more plentiful AK-47s. Where Hank crouched, he saw one of the men, sitting on the other side of his crate, lighting up a smoke. His weapon was somewhat larger and had more potential. Crouching down and pulling a wire from his belt, Hank prepared himself.
In one smooth movement, Hank appeared over the top of the crate, slipping the wire around the man's neck, hauling him over the box, back to safety. He pulled tight and the man tried in vain to resist his impending death, to no avail. As the corpse went limp, Hank loosened the wire and removed the ragged scarf from the man's neck. Wrapping it around his face, to keep the dust from his mouth and nose, he moved around and picked up the weapon that necessitated the kill - a rocket propelled grenade launcher and a cache of ammunition.
The compound gates exploded in a shower of sparks and shrapnel, as a pickup truck drove through, following the explosion. A large calibre assault rifle mounted on the back started spewing out hot death and the combatants opened fire at one another with renewed anger and passion. Hank calmly stood, placing the RPG launcher on his shoulder and levelled it at the vehicle, loosing an explosive through the compound, into the windscreen of the vehicle. Screaming, the driver of the vehicle realised that the grenade was lodged in his chest and the gunman dropped the muzzle of the gun. He turned to run, but too late, as the device in his colleague detonated and caused the vehicle, its crew and the weapon mounted on it to explode, to the whoops and cheers of the local forces. Hank reloaded the launcher and grabbed two more shells from the crate by the side of him, as Kalashnikov rifle fire was released into the air jubilantly around him.
Noting that the flag raised over the building was a tricolour - red, black and green, with a white star and crescent moon in the centre, Hank climbed a ladder for a better look at the surroundings. As he reached the top of the ladder, a sharp guttural question was asked in a tongue that Hank had no idea of, nor any intention of learning. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder and stood there looking defiantly at the man, who walked towards him slowly. Suddenly, as he pulled a knife and moved in for the kill, Hank's reactions kicked in and he dropped under the lunge of the bearded man, lifting him up and over the barrier, dropping him into the compound below, with a thud. Putting the thoughts of his new "friends" becoming something else for a few moments, Hank surveyed the local area, watching vehicles laden with similar guns engaging one another in battles across the city. The heat of the sun was intense and only the dust swirling around necessitated Hank keeping the scarf wrapped around his head.