Hanko does a thing in London.

 Hankolijo stood up, his head pounding. He took a look at his surroundings... It was a dark, foggy alleyway, a dumpster and rusty ladder the only things there. Hank rubbed the back of his head where he felt a sharp pain come from. He looked at his hand, covered in blood. He was hurt badly... but from what? The last thing he could remember was... He groaned, falling to his knees. The pope... He killed him... But he came back to life... Then turned into the fat devil... And it turned into a blur after that. He recalled amaze, and the image of the devil... He was God there. Hank groaned again, forcing himself up once again. He took a few shaky steps before collapsing. He pulled himself up once again, opening the trashcan and frowning at the smell. He took out a large bone, and, using it as a cane, he moved along the dark street. His eyes had gotten used to the dark, and he could see the silhouette of a large mansion. But this was certainly not the forest. Hank was comforted by the fact Gacko was still there with him, but he could definitely use his immortality. The pain was almost unbearable, and he knew he required medical attention. Where were those pasta guys at? Did they make it out of Vatican? How long was Hank passed out? It was the middle of the day when the three men confronted the pope... SO many questions, and Hank needed answers.
 Hankolijo coughed as he moved through the smog. He saw a pair of glowing red eyes glare at him from the ground. Hank jumped back, only to realize it was a rat. Hank shivers and pushes forward until reaching a dead end, a single metal door next to him. Hank opened it up, the door hinges squeaking, making him flinch, which caused more pain. Hank walked into the dark, checking his belt for his equipment. He had somehow lost most of it, but he still had his flashlight, dagger and Swiss army knife. He flicked the torch on, looking around the dark room. It was a large, deserted storage area, filled with dust covered crates and construction supplies, rusted tools and outdated household goods. The building reeked of mold. Hank noticed only one door at the other side of the area, a padlock on it. Hank approached it, seeing more pairs of red eyes and sounds of tiny feet move across the dusty floor, but he didn't pay attention to it. Rats weren't what he was worried about. He examined the lock... he could crack it no problem, but h didn't have the time, and he would need both hands, and Hank required one to hold his balance. He instead placed the flashlight in his teeth, pulled his dagger from his belt, bashing at the padlock. He heard the rats scatter around at the noise, but kept going, until he saw the lock fall down... and felt a pair of sharp claws embed into his leg, causing him to scream in pain, dropping the torch from his mouth.
 Hankolijo jumped, turning around and slashing where his legs were just at. He heard a shriek, and a thud as something dropped to the ground. hank moaned in pain as his makeshift cane fell. He pushed himself through the door, shutting it behind him as fast as he could. He heard another shriek, louder and more abrupt. He looked leaned against the wall, feeling something behind him. He places his hands on it, realizing it was a light switch. He flipped it, covering his eyes at the sudden brightness of the bulb above his head. He looked at the door that was covered in a greenish-yellow liquid. Half of a small, black humanoid, no larger than a rat, laid there, apparently crushed in half by the door. Hank shivered. What the fuck was that thing? He turned around, hearing a quiet voice speak in the near distance. He started moving towards the sound, holding his hand up against the wall for balance, getting dizzier with every step. He eventually just collapses on the ground, his sight blurring out. The last thing Hank sees before passing out is a pair of legs stopping in front of his face, next to them- a small pair of hairy feet.


Hankolijo was woken up by a strong scent. His eyes slowly opened up, and he saw an elderly man holding a brown bottle to Hanks nose. The man pulled the hand back, smiling. "Welcome back, Hank!" he said, handing the bottle to a monkey in a suit. Hank raised an eyebrow, and turned towards the man, speaking quietly: "Who... are you?... How do you... know my name?...". The man smiled wider. "I am Bookkeeper. I know all. And I know how your tale ends..." he said, and Hank sat up straight. They were seated by a desk in the middle of a large room, surrounded by seemingly infinite bookshelves. A dialogue began that lasted for several minutes. "What is this place? How did.. How did I get here?" Hank asked. "My domain... The place of unlimited knowledge. You may ask me any question that comes to your head." "...What date is it?" "Well, If you mean in London where I found you, then it is the 8th of April." "The 8th? But... we confronted the pope on the 6th..." "Yes. You were trapped in the misfortune realm for two days, Hank." "...What happened to April and Takenso?" "They left Vatican and returned to Tokyo. The real pope returned to his duties. You defeated Misfortune, although taking quite the bit of damage in the process." "Do you know... everything?" "Yes. I know all that has happened and all that will happen. I know how your tale ends, remember?" "And... what will the ending be?". The bookkeeper showed first signs of any other emotion other than happiness. He still smiled, but his eyes were sad. "It will not be the happy ending you deserve, Hank.". Hank sighed, considering the response. "What... now?" he asked. "I can not interfere with the stories of the mortals... Only they can. So I may only return you back to where you were before I collected you." "Who... are they?" "They are the shadows to watch down upon you on your daily routines." "And... who were those... things attacking me back there?". The Bookkeeper sighs. "Morspallidum has minions everywhere. I encountered some just yesterday. Morspallidum overuses the inter-dimensional transportation system, causing instability. It is why I had to... dismiss... a client... Now, do you have any more questions?". Hank shook his head for a response. The Bookkeeper smiled once again. "I shall keep my eyes on you... your tale has truly intrigued me.". He then snapped his fingers, and Hank blacked out once again, feeling a slight scent of mold before all senses were cut off to him, leaving nothing but his own mind to him.


 Hankolijo opened his eyes. The pain came back to him, dulled down. He groaned and stood up, looking around him. The hall was quiet once again, other than scraping of tiny claws against the door had come through. He managed to stand up, but, looking down, he noticed that his leg looked pretty bad. He felt like collapsing once again, but Gacko crawled over to his ear and exclaimed: "COME ON, BRO! PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER AND GET THE FUCK OUTTA LONDON! You're gonna catch some kind of disease or something. Smog and stuff, you know?". Hank smiled, starting to walk onward through the halls, ignoring the pain and the smells surrounding him. He made it to a door with a small glass window. Behind it he saw street lights and several people walk around the fog. He attempted to open the door, but it wouldn't budge. Hank sighed, trying to pry the door with his knife to no effect. He uttered a swear before starting to bash his body against the door, wincing at the rush of pain in the back of his head. He kets crashing against the metal over and over again, the people passing by looking at the door suspiciously, but not bothering to inspect it. Hank eventually collapsed, leaning against the door. He sighed, laying his head back. "Fuck..."
 Hankolijo smiled, the cold metal feeling nice and soothing on his wounds. He closed his eyes, only to fall back as the door opened up. He gasped as his head hit the floor. "What the..." he began, but was pulled back by a pair of strong hands and forced into the back of a van. He could only say one thing for sure- it was a military van. Fuck. He looked around the small compartment, completely empty except for a small bench. The van began to move, and Hank tried to open the door. It didn't. Figures. Hank knocked on the wall separating him and the driver. "Yo! The fuck is all o' this?" he exclaimed. A speaker came on (One Hank hadn't noticed. Hidden or something. Fancy.), and a distorted voice spoke: "Hank Lijon, you have been taken under arrest by the pentagon. You have been charged with destruction of government property, trespassing, multiple murders, treason, petty theft, grand theft, racketeering, assisting an attack on a government site and armed assault.". Hank whistled admiringly. "You made a list. Nice. I don't even remember half the stuff on it... Heh. So, what are you gonna do now?" he asked, but didn't receive a response.
 Hankolijo knocked on the wall repeatedly until the speaker came on once again: "You shall be transported to pentagon HQ for interrogation. If we have your full cooperation you shall be set free and you'll be given a complete pardon of all previous offences." the voice spoke. Hank thought for a moment. "That sounds a whole lot like what the Foundation told to class D's... So I don't quite trust that." he said, pulling out his dagger, stabbing at the door. There is no effect. Hank repeats this on the wall separating him and the driver, not even leaving a scratch. "Well, I suppose it makes sense that a government-issue armored car can't be destroyed with a knife. GG, bros." he said, sitting down on the ground. He once again noticed the pain. "For the record, I might be bleeding out here..." he said, and the can stopped. Hank smirked, but frowned immediately. He wasn't immortal. He couldn't risk it.