[SOMEWHERE IN NEVADA…]

Each morning for Deimos began the same way—Sanford would wake him up with a cheerful greeting and the smell of breakfast wafting through their small apartment. The scent of frying bacon and syrup filled the air, pulling Deimos from sleep and reminding him how hungry he was. Sanford, tall and muscular, always looked ready for battle, his bandana and shades adding to his tough persona. Scars on his arms hinted at past battles, while his shirtless torso showcased his strength.

In the early light, their apartment felt like a fortress against the chaos outside, cluttered with weaponry and reminders of their lives. Deimos often thought about the dangers that awaited them each day, the weight of uncertainty pressing down even in this sanctuary.

Sanford: —“Good morning, De! Get up quickly, Doc's sending us on an important mission!”

Sanford called, flipping pancakes with ease. The sounds of the city waking outside served as a reminder of their chaotic world.

Deimos: —“Again?”

Deimos stretched, feeling invigorated as he got out of bed. He wore a sleeveless tactical vest that emphasized his muscular build, a cap shading his rugged features.

Sanford: —“Doc was too busy yesterday to warn us,”

Sanford said, a mix of exasperation and humor in his voice. Deimos admired Sanford's loyalty; it grounded their partnership in the chaos they faced.

Deimos: —“Can’t we get a day off?”

Deimos replied, standing on the cool floor, the contrast jolting him to reality. Their apartment, filled with maps and trophies from adventures, told the story of their bond.

With breakfast nearly ready, Deimos watched Sanford cook, appreciating their unspoken understanding. The quiet moments revealed their connection, like the glint of mischief in Sanford's eyes when he presented a perfectly cooked pancake. As the sun rose, Deimos felt the familiar rush of anticipation. With Sanford by his side, he felt ready for anything.