A/N: Five years. I am so sorry. Fear not, however, because my love of Madness Combat has stayed strong all these years. Also don't worry about Lunar-Monster's comments. She's my irl friend and I understand her delightful weirdness~. Thank you all so much for reading this story and I can't wait to get to the current timeline and beyond.

"Do you ever stop talking?"

Not a week after the conversation on the front step, Sanford and Deimos were bickering again. They were driving to HQ for supplies and, right off the bat, Deimos complained about wanting to drive. From there he continued to ramble about how back home he regularly participated in drag races and worked on cars in his spare time.

"You know, I've always had a thing with machines," he had bragged, tucking his hands behind the headrest, "That's probably why they paired me with you, seeing as you can't even boot up a computer." It was then Sanford snapped at him, gripping the steering wheel with the intensity of wringing a human neck.

"What's that?" Deimos mocked, "Did I hit a nerve?" He was being particularly annoying today; had Sanford pissed him off recently and this was retaliation?

"Oh, I know, we should talk about it," Deimos perpetuated, "Why don't you communicate your feelings to me, Sanford?" Sanford hit the brakes a little harder than he normally would so Deimos would lurch forward with the momentum.

"What did I do to deserve this attitude?" he asked gruffly, wrenching the gearshift into park, "Did I unplug your laptop too fast, take your spot on the couch, what?" Deimos kicked his door open, no longer joking.

"Why're you so touchy?" he griped, "I was just messing around." The two got out of the truck and started towards the looming HQ building.

"When are you ever not messing around?"

"Plenty of times! You never notice anything! Honestly, I'm shocked you can handle yourself in combat without me holding your hand." At this Sanford pulled Deimos away from the door and shoved him against the wall, pinning his throat with his forearm.

"Listen, kid," he growled, "I don't like you." Deimos cocked an eyebrow at him, unimpressed.

"Really? I had no idea."

"Don't interrupt. Now, I don't care where you come from or who you think you are. I have been fighting and killing men since you were playing with action figures while your mommy made you snacks. Don't think I'm above kicking your skinny little ass." Deimos's eyes flashed, provoking Sanford.

"Yeah?" he ventured with a smirk, "Go ahead. Do it. You some kinda sadist, old man?" The two glared at one another for several tense moments, Deimos silently egging Sanford on, daring him to throw a punch. Sanford struggled with himself, wanting desperately to pummel that impish face to make it stop smiling but remembering something Barnaby had told him a long time ago that stayed his hand.

"You're so violent…but that's not how you always were, was it? Whenever you feel like hurting someone outside of combat, try to remember the times you were calm."

Sanford held his position a moment longer, trying to recall a happier time. A young woman's face appeared in his mind, soft features, brown eyes, sandy blonde hair falling around her neck in gentle waves. Sanford took a deep breath and released Deimos, his aggression fading.

"It's not worth it right now, he grumbled, refusing to look at his partner as he reached for the door.

"What's the matter, Sanford?" Deimos antagonized, following him inside, " I thought you said you weren't above kicking my ass."

"I'm not. It's no use doing it here when we'll only be here a few minutes. I'd rather wait."

"So what, you wanna wait to beat me up in the comfort of your own home?"

"Essentially."

"Dude, that's fucked up." Sanford sighed, trying to keep the image of the woman clear while avoiding looking at Deimos. He made a left past the elevators to the supply wing, his irritating partner trailing behind.

"Got to be a little fucked up to work here," he said, "What, did you think you were normal?"

"Compared to you? I'm an innocent little choir boy."

"You? Innocent? Now I'm sure you're kidding."

"I said compared to you, dumbass."

Up ahead Sanford noticed a higher-up by the name of Moira standing near the door to the medical supply room.

"Having fights again, boys?" she called to them, her nasal voice cutting through Sanford like nails on a chalkboard. A wave of disgust filled him as they neared her; Sanford had never liked Moira much.

"Last I checked, that was none of your business, Moira," he hissed, stopping to stare her down. She crossed her narrow arms over her chest, the shoulder pads of her suit straining against the fabric, and shot him a condescending look.

"Check again," she sneered, her burgundy colored lips curling, "I'm overseeing you two for the next three months." Deimos, despite the width of the hallway being more than enough to fit three people, pushed Sanford aside to speak to Moira.

"Whoa, what're you talkin' about, lady?" he asked, looking mildly panicked, "What did we do?"

"It's not so much what you're doing," a voice from behind them said, causing both of them to turn, "What you're not doing is cooperating." Sanford felt his stomach drop as he recognized the speaker.

"Director!" he choked out, "Sir…"

The Director approached with his hands in the pockets of his trousers, his grey suit jacket open. He took one hand out to push his gold framed glasses back up his long nose. He did not look amused.

"Sanford, let me ask you something," he said, reminding Sanford in that moment of a high school principal about to slam him with a month's worth of detentions, "How is it that you and Deimos scored the highest compatibility in the history of this organization but you can't stand to be in the same room together?" Sanford swallowed, trying to rid himself of the lump that had formed in his throat. But before he could speak, Deimos cut in again.

"What kinda compatibility we talkin' here?" he asked.

"Deimos, now is not the time…" Sanford warned. Deimos raised a hand to silence him, his eyes focused on the Director.

"We matched your combat techniques and ran a personality test," the Director explained, "Unless there was some kind of fluke, you two were a perfect match, which is something the AAS has never seen before." Deimos frowned.

"A fluke?"

"Yes," Moira answered, "which is why we're going to test you both again today." Both mercenaries in question gave the same expression of disdain.

"So that's why you didn't reassign us," Sanford grumbled.

"Precisely," the Director responded, "Now if you'll follow me…"

Three hours later, Sanford staggered out of the test room, his legs stiff from sitting so long. Moira waited for him in the hall, giving that disgustingly smug smirk he so hated on her.

"Are we done now?" he asked, rolling his shoulders.

"You are," Moira replied, "for today. Once Deimos is done with his exam, we'll let you go so we can analyze the results." As she said this, Deimos dramatically stumbled out of the opposite room, exaggerated horror on his pale face.

"No more," he pleaded, "That was worse than midterms." Moira laughed.

"Go on," she told him, "We'll let you know our findings tomorrow." Sanford grasped Deimos by the arm and tugged him toward the elevators.

"Let's go before she changes her mind," he muttered to him.

"She would do that?" Deimos whispered, his voice high and panicked. Sanford nodded solemnly. The pair accelerated their pace to freedom, a truce formed for the remainder of the day.

Meanwhile, Moira retrieved the test papers from each room to review them. She shook her head as she read through their answers, feeling exhausted already.

"I just don't get those two," she mumbled to herself, "How even the fuck…"

A/N: Wow it feels good to publish for this story again. I know not much got done in this chapter but we're getting to some good stuff soon. Thanks again for reading!