MadCom x Readers catharsis- requests temp closed

"The Dragon"|Platonic!AllXExperiment!Reader

Haha get ready for some omega angst and then omega fluff. SO sorry for how long it took to get out and how long the story is itself. 4327 words
note: the story takes place before the fall of Nexus, so the time of Arena mode in MADNESS: Project Nexus. that being said, "Nameless" is the arena mode character from MPN, there will be no spoilers for arena mode story. this is a third person story, where you are the "creature"; you will have many nicknames, and for simplicity, go by they/them.
requested by ARandomCreator

originally published: Feb, 10, 2023

CW// starved, caged/shackled, neglected, people are disgusted/horrified of reader at first , strong language all throughout,

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------An ATP Soldat trudged his way up the steps of a metro station, sleep still weighing down on his eye. He was early to his post, just the way he liked it. The red Nevadean sky was a soft pastel pink. The cotton candy clouds hid the few remaining stars as daylight arose. This Soldat decided to wake himself up with a cigarette. He lit the cig and inhaled; then felt numb. He watched the smoke slowly leave him through a hole in his chest. He hadn't even known enemies were nearby. He looked ahead and saw them.

Trying to radio for backup, his fingers failed him, before he eventually fell backwards to darkness. Lying on his back, the last thing he saw was the stars. Four mercenaries were the ones responsible. A tag team technician and explosives expert, a killing machine on his last tether, and a dissenter who rarely went on missions like these.

"I feel like something poetic just happened, don't you Sanf?" The shortest member of the team, Deimos, chuckled with his usual toothy grin. Sanford, his "best friend" (as the historians would say) just shook his head.

"I have no clue what you're on about, dude," he looked to the oldest member of the team. A finely dressed dissenter sporting a mohawk, "What's the plan again Doc? I think this lil' goober drained my brain!"

"We're here to pick up illegal weapons. Firearms, torture devices, grenades, whatever. After that point, it's up to Nameless as to what happens to it all." Doc didn't even look up from his tablet as he walked forward to the entrance of the metro, waving his hand to tell the others to join him. Deimos and Sanford both nodded in understanding, while the fourth mercenary, Hank, simply continued to walk, silently.

Although the AAHW was populated by idiots, their one smart brain cell must've come up with this place. An abandoned subway station, with most exits blocked off except the few that arrived at different AAHW buildings. Cargo of illegal weapons, either stolen or brutal in their way of harm, was transported between buildings using the rail system. The station was dimly lit by fluorescent lights that look to have never been changed. Leaks in the concrete ceiling would let droplets of rain through to puddle on the ground. It smelt of gunpowder, mold, and cigarette smoke; truly a detestable place. Room after room after room, the mercenaries took out the soldats, engineers, and grunts stationed there. Boxes and boxes of firearms, swords, grenades, even some amount of military grade armor. After any amount of cargo was secured, Doc would count the boxes, note what type of weapons, and send a message out.

"Hey what'cha tip-typing on that tablet of yours?" Deimos asked, looking behind him at the dissenter. Without even looking up, the old man answered.

"Sending an alert to the cargo boys. Cataloging what we find so they know what to expect and where to find it. Come on, we still have a long way to go."

///

After some time they started getting tired. Although professionals in murder, half a day worth of pure fighting wanes on them too. Exhausted, battered, and bloody, Deimos pulls out a cigarette and starts to light it.