F!Hank X M!Grunt!Reader

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🆆🅰🆁🅽🅸🅽🅶: OOC, Cross-Dresser!Hank, Male!Reader, Grunt!Reader, Reader Insert, Female!Hank, Crack-Fic, Thicc!Hank, Honka-Honka, Booba, Gore, Blood Slightly Mentioned, Murder, Death Of Characters, Before Hank Became A Mag, Slight Mom Kink (Used As A Joke), Comedy (Light), Cussing|Swearing|Cursing (Light), Hank Uses 'He' Pronouns Until The Reveal,
🆃🅷🅴🅼🅴: Cross-Dressing Badass
🅵🅰🅽🅳🅾🅼: Madness Combat Series

[1]Your head shot up upon the sounds of the alarms going off, your cellphone no longer holding your attention. Glancing around, you took notice that the other Grunts were running around, prepping themselves. You pause to think,

'What was the alarm for again?' You thought to yourself, your knew it wasn't a Fire Drill, it kind of had a different sound entirely.

"HANK IS COMING!!" Someone yelled over the blaring sound. You snapped your fingers when you remembered.

Oh, yeah!

Oh, no...

You looked towards the entryway in worry, the distance sound of guns firing, Nevadians yelling and screaming, it's getting closer! Quickly throwing yourself from the metal chair, it fell backwards with a loud noise which went unnoticed. Flipping the lunch table over as you reached for your handgun, the holster giving you some trouble before it released the weapon into your awaiting hand.

Silence.

That's never a good thing.

Peeking over the table, the dinning room door opened, a grenade skidding in.

"TAKE COVER!" A Agent yelled, you didn't need to be told twice. But you can't say the same for the other morons. A loud explosion rang out into the small area, your ears going deaf, you were pretty sure they were bleeding. Your [EYE COLOR] eyes open wide, horror took over your face upon spotting a severed head landed within your lap. Red crimson staining the grey fabric you wore, you squirmed, knocking the limb onto the debris covered floor.

You weren't ready for something like this!

The simulation had been a lot easier then what laid out before.

You looked over the safety of the turned table, bodies of your coworkers all around, those alive cocked their weapons or heavily wounded making an attempt to flee but bleeding out at the last few seconds. Your eyes focused on the newest person entering, they strode in with purpose and confidence.

Hank.

Your grip tighten upon your small hand-held, that crazy bastard took in the sights of what's left as he reloaded his semi-automatics.

This is a man who knew he's going to win.

You're about to die!

The other Grunts didn't have a chance to open fire, Hank had been the first to move. The closest man with a knife was the victim, their blade wielding hand had been grabbed, pulling them forward as Hank brought the gun over. The barrel touched under the grunt's chin, blood lunched from the top of his head as the bullet passed through under the jaw and out of the cranium. It appeared to be like a volcano erupting. A chuckle escaped the red googled wearing man, with quite a bit of force, Hank threw the blade. The dagger lodged deep into another's face, the strength and forced pushed the now dead man into a grunt behind them. Both falling to the floor below. Your eyes wide with shock,

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