INTRO
Somewhere in Nevada…?
A somewhat dazed grunt wakes up from his slumber, blinking their eyes with a groan. His surroundings are unfamiliar for a moment, confusion filling his mind, before recognition and memories flood back. In a flash, the return of his memories gives him far more distinct features; red goggles, black leather coat, black bandana, and a metal jaw covered by a black mask.
Ah, damn. Looks like he died. Again.
Hank J. Wimbleton sighs as he gets up, dusting himself off. Hell is a familiar place to him, even with its ever-changing layout. He’d almost call it comforting.
He prepares himself to get moving; he can’t be bothered to stay in one place, when suddenly, there’s a distinct bang, and before his eyes, another grunt falls from the sky, hitting the ground with a wet crunch. Hank observes them for a moment, gauging if he’ll need to stomp their head a little further in the ground, before their indistinct features suddenly twist, and as they get up, it’s like he’s looking in the mirror.
In less than a second, all his senses go into fight mode, and he lunges at his other self without thinking, ready to tear their head from their shoulders. At the same time, his other self springs into action, ready to do the exact same to him.
This is not unusual for hell, so he doesn’t think much of it as he and the other version of him fight, throwing punches and kicks, swinging makeshift weapons at each other from whatever scrap they find in this place. They’re pretty evenly matched, for what it’s worth, neither of them able to keep the other down; it’s likely to be a perpetual fight until Doc can-
There’s another bang, and their fight briefly stalls as another grunt appears out of thin air, before changing into a similar appearance to theirs. Their eyes glint, and the fight continues, now with three of them instead of two.
And then another bang. Another grunt. Even more bangs. Bang, bang, bang, and they watch as at least ten more versions of themselves come into existence. Soon, a whole horde of, well, Hanks has appeared in the area, all looking a little different, but all clearly versions of himself.
Hank doesn’t give himself time to be confused about it. Hell is just weird like that, and he’s not going to let them get the drop on him just because something is unusual. All of them seem to be thinking the same thing, after all.
Time to show them who’s the better Hank.