Hank couldn't really focus on much except the vast wasteland in front of him, uncaring of whatever got in his way to the bar. There was a constant ringing in his ears, and the voices of Sanford and Fenrir saying something was too muffled to understand. But he didn't care, all he needed right now was to make sure Rye was okay. She had to be okay.

As time passed, the ringing in his ears began to fade, and Hank could finally understand what the other two were talking about. "For the last time, if I wanted to kill you two, I wouldn't waste my time helping your stupid asses. I'd just put a bullet in your heads!"

"Oh, so you getting Deimos out of the way, and us as far away from Rye as we could, yeah that's all just a big coincidence!"

Fenrir let out a growl. "If you really think I'm trying to kill you, why aren't you just getting rid of me, then?"

Sanford let out a sigh. "Because if you're actually telling the truth, then you're out best chance of making sure she's safe and sound. And as much as I don't like you right now, I'm willing to take that bet, as long as it means Rye's fine by the end of the day."

The only sounds for a few moments was the wind rushing past the trio, and the engine roaring. The turncoat spoke up again, all aggression having drained out of his tone. "You all really care about her, huh?"

"She's the one out of all of us that's just trying to live a normal life. Well, as normal as you can get in this shithole. She doesn't exactly jump with joy at the idea of killing a whole room of idiots that can barely shoot a gun. She's not defenseless, but she sure as shit doesn't love violence. Not like the rest of us. Well, except maybe Doc, he just does what he needs to do." Fenrir let out a hum barely audible over the engine and wind.

The rest of the drive was spent in relative silence, Fenrir and Sanford apparently finding an understanding for the moment. The shirtless man's foot kept tapping against the floor of the car, and his hands were clenching and unclenching constantly. Usually he was the perfect picture of calm, even when he went up against reality breaking bullshit like Tricky. But right now, cracks in his demeanor were starting to form, and he wasn't sure how long he could keep his poker face up.

As the buildings zoomed by, the shirtless man felt a pit starting to grow in his stomach, every second closer to the bar making the feeling more intense. Eventually, the car had screeched to a stop in front of the bar, Hank taking a pistol from the glove compartment. The psychopath kicked the door in, gun at the ready for any Agents in the area. Right behind Hank, Sanford could see that the bar had seen better days. Half of the bottles behind the bar were shattered, with clear bullet holes running along most of the walls, tables and bodies littering the floor randomly.

Sanford recognized a few of the bodies as regulars that kept coming even after the gang had started showing up. Dean, an older gentleman, was slumped over by a wall, his chest caved in with a table leg. Jeff, the local drug dealer that knew better than to try to sell anywhere near the bar, seemed to be missing half of his skull, maybe he had been on the wrong end of a shotgun.

After a few seconds of tense silence, the group ready to take out any straggling Agents, Sanford began checking the other bodies, hoping that he didn't find his friend. After searching for a few minutes, the man let out a small sigh of relief, not seeing anything that would suggest Rye's death. Hearing a sudden gasping, Sanford kicked a chair up into his grip, ready to smash it down onto an Agent. However, instead of finding some mook that had decided to show up at the worst time, the shirtless man saw a hand flailing weakly from under a pile of tables.

Motioning to Fenrir, the two got the furniture off of the body, finding a man with only a gunshot wound to his shoulder. He looked pale, and there was a sizable pool of blood, although the wound didn't seem to be gushing out blood at the moment. Sanford kneeled down, shaking the man awake. "Hey, the hell happened?"

The man blinked sluggishly, slowly focusing on Sanford. "There... there was a woman... started a fight, then..." The man took a few heavy breaths, closing his eyes. "Agency stormed in... wanted the bartender... Massacre..." The man stopped talking, passing out. The only thing that showed he was alive were the slow rise and falls of his chest.

Sanford let out a sigh, pushing up his shades and rubbing at his eyes. "Great. Looks like good ol' AAHW wants something from Rye..."

Fenrir began setting up a table, a bottle of the bar's most expensive top shelf bottle, and three shot glasses. "Probably going to interrogate her for anything you guys might have let slip to her. None of you were really all that discrete when it came to casual time off."

Hank pulled up a chair to the table, aiming his pistol at Fenrir. "Yeah? And how do we know you didn't just keep coming by so they knew when to show up?"

Pouring a shot, Fenrir ground his teeth together, a high pitched screeching sound emanating from his mouth. "Because, again, I wouldn't waste time trying to buddy up to you assholes. I'd just kill you and get it over with. Although, there's a chance I wasn't as careful as I thought I was when I made my way down here."

Sanford was next to sit down, rubbing at his face. "Alright. Is there any places you can think of that they'd take her to? Anywhere they're especially prepared for us?"

The turncoat let out a sigh, before he poured two more shots for his companions. "There's a couple that come to mind. And there's one that's probably the place we're going to end up at regardless. The good ol' shithole facility Loki keeps his 'family' holed up in. Middle of fuckall nowhere, heavily fortified with Soldats and a couple MAG Agents, practically a fucking maze unless you've been there a while, and full of experiments that makes us all look like perfectly normal members of society in comparison. Honestly, we're going to need a whole ass arsenal, and the power of Christ on our side if we want to pull off a rescue mission like this." Fenrir held up his shot, seemingly resigned to the suicide mission.

As Sanford picked up his own shot, Hank stared at the small glass. "Think you can get a straw for that?"

"For fucks sake. Fine." Getting up and heading over to the bar counter, Fenrir leaned over, finding and grabbing a small straw for the psychopath. Setting it in the shot glass, Fenrir glowered. "Better?" Hank said nothing in response, only holding up his glass. The three clinked their shots together, with Sanford and Fenrir knocking theirs back in a second, while Hank quickly sipped at the straw. "So, it's definitely been a time in my life that I've known you two."

"Yeah, feeling's kinda mutual."

Hearing the door to the bar open, the trio looked over to see a newcomer. Upon realizing who it was, Sanford's mouth fell open, while Hank pointed his gun, and fired until the magazine was empty, and then threw the gun for good measure. Unfortunately, Jebus simply held out a hand, the bullets stopping midair before they fell harmlessly to the floor. "Really, Hank? That impulsiveness is going to get you killed one day."

"It already did, fuckwit!" Hank spat back, understandably pissed at the sight of one of his nemeses.

The seemingly holy man let out a sigh. "Of course. Luckily for you, I'm not here to put you down for good."

Sanford, knowing when to pick a fight, and when to keep Hank from getting everyone killed, decided to take over speaking privileges. "Alright, so what are you here for?"

Jebus held his hands together behind his back. "I'm here to offer my assistance."

"Bullshit." The trio of men responded in unison.

The holy man sighed. "As understandable as that reaction is, I'm being quite genuine here. See, despite breaking away form the Agency, and wanting to just live my life for a bit, I've been keeping tabs on you Hank, doing my best to keep your destructive tendencies focused on a greater evil. Now, imagine my surprise when I saw you and the woman on an outing together. You two looked almost normal."

Hank clenched his hands into fists, growling. "Get to the fucking point."

Rolling his eyes, Jebus leaned forward, smiling. "You, Hank, seem to be affected by your little girlfriend. She appears to have a bit of a calming effect on you, as minor as it is. Honestly, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were actually in love with her. Ah, but I'm getting off topic. She keeps you 'docile', for the lack of a better term. And, as much as I hate to admit it, you're far better off with her than whatever it was you were doing on your own, even if it means the poor girl gets dragged down with you."

Sanford took a step forward, placing a hand on Hank's shoulder, the psychopath visibly shaking with rage. "Alright, you help Hank, and it keeps him from flipping his shit and hurting a whole lot of people that don't need to be hurt. That about sum it up?"

"In as many words, yes. Besides, I don't believe that you have the capacity to actually refuse my assistance. After all, it's as he said," Jebus, gesturing to Fenrir with a smirk on his face, repeated the turncoat's words, "You'll need the power of Christ if you want to rescue your friend."

"Y'know, I was being a sarcastic asshole about it, but I won't complain when literal divine intervention is just dropped in my lap." Fenrir shrugged, on board with the idea.

"Yeah, that's because you didn't have this asshole hounding your ass for years!"

Sanford let out a sigh, patting Hank's shoulder. "Yeah, but is some petty bullshit more important than getting Rye back?"

The psychopath let out angry growls, before huffing. "This is the only time I'm willing to do this, got it?"

Jebus chuckled. "Of course."

Rye returned to consciousness painfully, opening and immediately shutting her eyes at the harsh light aimed directly at her face. The bartender tried to move her hands to shield herself from the light, finding herself incapable of moving. Slowly squinting down to her hands, she found them strapped down to a chair, the bindings more than tight enough to keep her in place.

Looking up, she couldn't see anything past the harsh light beaming down at her. Fortunately, she could still hear well enough, and the sounds of shuffling made their way to her ears. "Alright assholes, what do you want?"

"Oh? It seems she still has some fight left in her. Jormungand, you really did hold back. I'm quite impressed." A figure stepped in front of the light, and while she couldn't make out any features, the silhouette had an air of superiority over everyone around them. "Usually I would offer refreshments, or a bite to eat, but I'm afraid this isn't the best time for pleasantries. My son, bless his poor, misguided soul, seems to be in the rebellious phase of his life." Rye wasn't exactly sure what the guy was talking about, but it seemed to be whatever the fuck Jodi was saying before that whole shitshow happened. "Now, it all seems to stem from that bar you work at. Of course, there's a perfectly rational explanation for it, such as him being tempted away from the cause."

The bartender blinked in confusion. "What the fuck are you even talking about?"

The figure sighed, apparently disappointed. "Fenrir, I'm sure you've seen him. Metal teeth, unruly hair that he absolutely refuses to keep tidy, general pessimistic attitude."

Rye's eyes widened. "Wait, you think I have something to do with him doing whatever it is he's doing?"

"Well, what else could it be? I took care of the leech sucking the lifeblood at his side, and put his focus where it truly belongs. The people we are quite literally made to kill."

Oh dear god he's an idiot. "Alright, so, let's say for the sake of argument that I'm telling your friend to ditch whatever you guys are doing. Why would he listen to me? What could I possibly tell him that would change his mind?"

The figure tilted his head to his side, inadvertently letting the harsh light beam down straight at Rye's eyes once again. "Seduction, mostly. Or feeding into his paranoia. He keeps thinking we're out to get him, when all we really want is the best for him, like any family should."

"Uh-huh, right. Or, maybe, and I'm kinda just spitballing here; you're all fucking crazy and he doesn't want to be a part of that anymore?"

The man sighed, turning and walking back into the shadows. "Well, it seems that doing this the kind way isn't producing any results. Jormungand, Surt. Do try to keep her alive long enough that we get what we need to bring Fenrir back to his senses. We can't afford to waste any time with petty family squabbles." As the man left, and cart with a tray carrying various tools was wheeled out into the light.

Jodi's voice rang out, giggling. "Oh, I just can't wait to get started! Ooh, Surt, what do you think we should start with? Pulling off her nails, teeth, or something else?"

A gruff voice rumbled out. "I don't care. Let's just hurry up and get what we need. I don't like it when they can't fight back."

"That's because you're thinking of this like it's a fight, silly! This is information extraction, and that means we can do whatever we want! Hm, well, since you're not giving me any ideas, let's go with the car battery first."

Car battery?! Rye began to struggle, trying to get the bindings against her wrists loose, as Jodi stepped forward, holding a pair of jumper cables. "Hey, Jodi, look, no hard feelings, right?"

The crazy woman giggled. "Of course not! You just need to tell us what you did to get big brother to hate us so much."

The bartender gulped, starting to shake in her forced seat. "But I didn't even do anything..."