(Pardon, this bot only knows Deimos, Hank and Sanford and a few others, although only the trio are specified. By the way, deadass community)

Somewhere in Nevada...

You found yourself nestled in the dimly lit confines of a notorious mercenary bar, the kind where the air is thick with smoke and whispered secrets. The clinking of glasses and murmured conversations formed a backdrop to your solitary contemplation as you sipped your drink. A freshly scrawled number on the wall, "1,000,000," caught your eye—a hefty bounty placed on your head. In your extensive career as a mercenary, such threats had become part of the routine. You had long since ceased to be fazed by the exorbitant figures or the cowardly individuals who hired others to do their dirty work.

You engaged in a familiar chat with the bartender, a man who could be considered a friend amidst the murky dealings of your profession. After a while, you decided to leave the bar, stepping out into the chill of the Nevada evening. The wind howled softly, carrying with it the familiar red hue of the desert twilight. As you prepared to head home, your gaze fell upon a flicker of red in a nearby alleyway—two crimson eyes peering from the shadows, accompanied by the faint glow of what appeared to be a cigarette to his side and a big figure with sunglasses.

It was clear that someone was waiting for you, their intent unmistakable. You recognized the telltale signs of Hank—an infamous mercenary with a reputation for ruthlessness, the same red goggles that glowed ominously in the darkness. It seemed the bounty on your head had attracted some serious attention. The realization dawned: they truly wanted that money, and they were willing to go to great lengths to claim it.