Rye glared at the man revealing his name as Fenrir. The man had come in and started asking for Hank, and Hank, the dumbass that he was, decided to come out and had tried to kill the man. After a quick scuffle, the Agency employee revealed himself to be a traitor, apparently willing to work with Hank for some reason. And now, after explaining to Deimos and Sanford that the situation they had gone through had resolved itself, the four men were sitting at one of the tables, drinks in hand. There were guns next to their drinks, and Fenrir sipped from his rum and coke. "Alright, so, where do you want me to start? Project members, our purpose, or why I'm betraying their stupid asses?"

Deimos raised a hand, just finishing his current mouthful of beer. "How 'bout you start with who the fuck you are, and whatever it is you're talking about?"

Fenrir rolled his eyes, and scratched at the corner of his mouth. "Well, I'm with a special team within the Agency, and I was given the designation "Fenrir", and my main target is "Odin", and in case that's not clear, that's you Hank. Our entire team is usually referred to as "Ragnarök", cause, well, you guys are the 'gods' that we're going to kill. On the Agency, there's Loki, Fenrir, Surt, and Jormungand. On your side, there's Odin, Baldur, Thor, and Heimdall. Now, it's not exactly a one to one metaphor, cause whoever decided on who was who is apparently barely literate, but considering it's the Agency, that's not really a surprise to anyone, now is it?"

Deimos raised his hand again. "Alright so I'm not really sure what any of that meant. There's like one of your stupid Agent assholes for each of us, right?"

"Yeah, just about. If there were more of you guys, I'm sure they'd designate the right gods and who kills who. So, Loki's the one that's kinda in charge of the rest of us, although nobody really listens to him, on account of him being a raging asshole. Surt's an okay dude, although he sorta has this tendency to fuck with his implants and usually sets some things on fire. Jormun... Okay I'm gonna be completely honest; I haven't actually seen her hold off violently stabbing something for more than five minutes, tops. She also keeps her blades coated in a really potent venom, so make sure you don't get so much as a cut." Fenrir paused, taking another sip from his drink. "Now, onto what they can actually do. Loki is hard to describe. Most of the time he kinda just vanishes, and I'm not really sure if he somehow has invisibility, or if he's really good at making sure everyone's attention is somewhere else. Either way, you want to keep him in your sights. He may be the worst fighter out of us all, but he's still no slouch, so be careful. Surt, he's got a lot of implants that set things one fire. Like, he basically has a fucking flamethrower implanted in each finger, so uh, yeah. Maybe shoot his hands off first, try to nip that shit in the bud."

Hank narrowed his eyes at Fenrir from behind his goggles. "And what about you? What do you have?"

Fenrir grinned, showing off his metal teeth. "Well, aside from my chompers, I got these." The man held up a hand, and after a few seconds, metal spikes pushed up about an inch from his fingertips, barely smaller than the width of his fingertips. "They're a pretty nice trick to catch someone off guard with. All it takes is a quick thrust to the throat or through their chest, and someone's usually down for the count. Most of the time though I don't really need them. So, y'know."

"And why didn't you use them against me?"

Fenrir let out a snicker. "A few reasons. First off, I wasn't planning on fighting you that seriously to begin with. Second, they wouldn't really give me that much of an edge against to. And third..." Fenrir trailed off, staying silent for a few seconds. "That one's personal."

Sanford looked up from his buffalo wings, swallowing the last bite of the last wing. "Alright, so, what's you're plan?"

Fenrir glanced to Sanford, before doing a double take of Sanford's bone full plate. "I'm sorry, going off track for like a minute. How many wings did you eat?"

Sanford glanced at the plate. "I dunno, like fifteen, maybe twenty. I don't really keep track when I'm hungry."

Fenrir gaped at the man for a second, before shaking his head. "Okay, ignoring that for my own mental health. Alright, so, plan. To be honest, I genuinely thought it would take me a bit longer for you guys to hear me out. So, y'know, this is gonna be barebones as fuck, and probably dogshit all around. But our best bet is to divide and conquer. Loki is going to be the hardest to get alone, and I want him out of the way as fast as possible, because if we give him time to prepare it's not gonna be pretty when we finally get around to him."

Hank tapped his fingers against the table, lost in thought. "So, how are you going to tell us where and when you're getting them alone?"

"Well, this is probably going to take a while, especially after we take the first one out. They're going to be on guard, and likely not going to leave anywhere without either a squad of canon fodder with them, or each other. So, I guess I'll drop by whenever I have news. Well, important enough news anyway." Fenrir glanced to Sanford and Deimos. "Oh, and you two are gonna wanna lay low for a while. Gonna have to spin a tale about how I got at least one of you. Maybe Sir Smokesalot over here."

Deimos coughed up his sip of beer, glaring indignantly at Fenrir. "Fucking excuse me?! I can totally take you! Especially if I have Sanford backing me up!" Sanford nodded along, crossing his arms.

"Well, maybe. Thankfully we won't have to actually find out. And the Agency is stupid enough to believe me on that. Although I might need a little something as proof." Fenrir looked the man over. "Hand over those smokes."

"FUCKING ESCUSE ME?! I'll have you know, these are premium cigarettes that I had to kill multiple people over just to get!"

Sanford let out a snicker. "You got those for like eight bucks at a shitty gas station."

Deimos turned to glare at his partner. "You know, some solidarity would be pretty cool right about now. Not saying I'm expecting it, just that it'd be nice right now."

Fenrir tapped against the table, drawing their attention back to him. "Well, it's either the pack of smokes, or it's gonna be your stupid hat."

Deimos lunged across the table, attempting to grab at Fenrir. "YOU TAKE THAT BACK RIGHT THE FUCK NOW!"

Sanford let out a sigh, the plate of bones making a mess on his bare chest. "Deimos, just give him the pack. I'm gonna go get a paper towel. Don't kill each other, please." The man only shook his head as he made his way to the bathroom.

Deimos grit his teeth, glaring at Fenrir. "Fine. I can get another cigarette pack. Fucking bullshit..."

Fenrir rolled his eyes. "Yeah whatever, now don't move." Fenrir grabbed Deimos' hand that was passing the cigarettes over with, and stabbed into it with a finger spike, letting the blood drip onto the pack.

Deimos yanked his hand back, curling around it. "WHAT THE FUCK?!" Deimos grit his teeth, looking at the wound. It wasn't too deep, but it hurt like a bitch at the moment. "Fucking warn me if you're gonna do something like that next time! Shit..."

Fenrir shrugged, smearing the blood around the pack a bit. "Yeah, but it wouldn't be as funny as watching you flip your shit like that." The man pocketed the cigarettes, content with his 'prize'. "So, you got somewhere to lay low?"

Deimos clenched his bleeding hand into a fist a few times, before glancing up to the man. "Yeah, we have a few places in case something happens and we need to regroup. You're not going to find out where it is, so don't even think 'bout asking."

Fenrir chuckled. "Wouldn't dream of it." The man knocked back the rest of him drink, rubbing at the spot Hank had managed to sink his knife in when he had surprised the agent turned defector. "Well, you all have fun with whatever it is you do when you're not out slaughtering hundreds at a time." The man waved lazily, before heading out.

Hank, Rye and Deimos all kept their gaze on Fenrir, with Deimos and Rye glaring at his with a fire in their eyes, while Hank watched, almost looking uninterested in anything the defector had said. Deimos looked like he was about to flip the table, only managing to calm himself after slamming a fist against the table a few times. "Fucking..." The hacker growled, and turned his attention to Hank. "Hank, please tell me we're blowing that asshole's head off as soon as we see him again!"

Hank let out a small breath. "No."

Deimos froze, opening and closing his mouth a few times, before letting out an explosive, "What?!" Rubbing at his face, the man gestured to the door Fenrir had exited. "Hank, you can't honestly believe that guy! I mean, this is probably a trap!"

"Maybe. But, worst case scenario, we have to kill one more person than we thought we would. And it's not like he can get the drop on us with the way we are. You're going to keep an eye on him, or at least you're gonna keep reminding us to keep an eye on him."

Deimos let out a sigh. He looked like he wanted to say more, but stopped as he looked up, spotting Sanford returning. "Ford, you know this Fenrir guy's going to try to stab us in the back the first chance he gets, right?"

The shirtless man sat down, and shrugged. "I'm not really sure. He didn't really give us any motivation for why he wanted to betray the Agency, and we can't really verify any of the info he's given us right now. We're gonna have to talk to Doc, see if he's heard anything about any 'Ragnarök'. For now, you keep your head down, and I run some missions by myself, maybe ask Hank or Doc for some support here and there."

Deimos let himself sink into his chair. "Great. Guess I'll be cooped up in a shitty safehouse for a while."

Hank sighed. "Anyway, putting all of that aside for the moment, where were you two yesterday?"

Deimos perked up, raising a brow. "What? We were on a mission. Ry-" The table bumped violently, and hackerman let out a yelp. "Fuck! Sanford why?!"

The demolitions expert ignored his partner. "Yeah, looks like we forgot to tell you two. Rye tried messaging us but we keep our off-time stuff off so it doesn't distract us in the middle of a mission. Only realized she sent something at some point in the night, and I'm pretty sure she was already asleep by then."

Deimos looked at his friend in confusion. "What? Didn't Rye-" His words earned him another kick from under the table from Sanford. "Fuck! Alright, shit. I won't way anything. Christ..."

Hank looked from Deimos to Sanford, and then glanced to Rye, who was conveniently focused on cleaning glasses. "Right..."

Deimos looked between Rye and Hank a few times, confused. "Wait, did something happen?" Hank turned his gaze to the wall, suddenly finding the dark grey color and simple design incredibly interesting, causing Deimos to perk up, grinning. "Ayo? Did you two finally fu-" Deimos pushed himself out of range of Sanford's third kick. "Ha!" Unfortunately for the hacker, Sanford simply walked over to his partner and smacked him upside the head. "Fuck..."

Sanford returned to his seat as if nothing had happened, and looked to Hank. "Any reason you asked?"

Hank sighed, and pulled up his goggles to rub at his eyes. "Eh, not really. Rye just needed a place to stay, and I was the only one available. It's not that big of a deal."

Deimos grinned. "Ah, so you..." Glancing to Sanford, the hacker gulped. "Y'know what? Nevermind. So, how's that going for you so far?"

"Well, she made breakfast today, so that was pretty alright. Last night..." Hank looked at the hand he had used to hold onto Rye's, remembering the words they had exchanged before they had fallen asleep. "Last night was good." If Hank could smile, he was sure he'd have a giant shit-eating grin under his mask.

Deimos gaped at the man that had slaughtered thirty people over a fucking boombox. Hank looked, well he didn't look happy. Deimos was pretty sure that Hank could never look happy, but he sure as hell looked peaceful for once. "Dude, you have it bad."

Hank blinked, shaken out of his reverie. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Deimos scoffed. "Nah, it's better I don't say anything more. I like being able to actually chew my food." Hank narrowed his eyes at hackerman, before he shrugged.

The rest of the work day had passed without much incident, only a few drunken patrons needing to be cut off, and those usually sobered quickly when they saw Hank's glare from across the bar. The drive back to Hank's place was quiet, with the only sound filling the silence being shitty old music coming from the radio. During the drive, Hank felt his communicator vibrate slightly from his clothes. Quickly parking the car, Hank pulled out the communicator, seeing that Doc had sent him a message that simply asked, 'Hank, why is Deimos listed as dead in the Agency's database?'

Hank rubbed at his face. Everybody seemed to have forgotten to fill the man in on the situation. Hank quickly typed out a response. 'Some guy calling himself Fenrir showed up, gave us some information that we haven't really verified yet, and took Deimos' pack of cigarettes as "proof" he was dead.'

'Fenrir?'

'Yes. Said he's part of a team called Ragnarök.'

When he didn't get an immediate response, Hank headed inside, seeing Rye already on the couch with the TV on. She perked up, and quickly pat the empty cushion next to her. "C'mon, there's some old reality show that just started."

Hank would have smiled if he could, and instead let out a affectionate huff. As the man settled himself onto the couch, Rye seemed to decide that she would be more comfortable laying down, and settled her head on Hank's lap. The man froze for a second, looking down at his... fuck what even were they at this point? After a few seconds of thinking, he decided he could figure it out later, and instead started running his hand through Rye's hair, causing her to giggle and shift slightly to give him an easier time.

Thinking back to his earlier conversation, Hank let out a content sigh. Yeah, I guess I have it bad.

And honestly, Hank was fine with that. It was a nice change from his usual life constantly filled with missions of slaughter and destruction. For the first time in a long while, Hank felt like he could just sit back and breathe. When he felt the buzz from his communicator, Hank reached for it, before he stopped. Maybe, just maybe, he could think about it later. For right now, he would keep his attention on her. Where he felt it belonged.