With Fenrir driving, Sanford and Jebus in the back, and Hank riding shotgun, the savior couldn't help but feel like this was the buildup to a climax in a b-list action movie from years ago. Granted, those usually ended with the group losing someone along the way, only for it to be revealed as a fake-out, and the heroes all either drive off into the sunset, or their separate ways. This was likely to end with someone dying, and if it just so happened to be Hank, then there would be very few to miss the man.

The ride to the facility was silent, no jokes to ease the tension, no last minute checks to make sure everyone was prepared. No final speech to rally the morale of the squad, just a silent drive to where they needed to go. Simple. As the building slowly came into view, Fenrir slowed down to a stop, and pointed to the glovebox. "See if there's any binoculars in there." Hank opened the glovebox, and handed Fenrir a rifle scope. "This- Fuck it, it'll work." Looking through the scope, Fenrir listed off the locations and number of guards he could see. "Okay, so, our best chance at getting inside undetected is if we slip around to the east side, take out the guards quick and quiet. Inside, we're going to want to find someone that's just recently been posted here, take the map they got, and find our way to Ragnarök's favorite interrogation room."

Sanford let out a small hum as he looked at the facility. "So, what? They're just gonna let us through the place like we own it?"

"Oh, fuck no. We have, realistically, around ten seconds before alarms starting going off everywhere in there. Ideally, about a minute before anybody recognizes you assholes. No offense." Tossing the scope over to Hank, the turncoat rubbed at his face. "I'm gonna be real, this is going to be a real test of everybody's endurance. We're probably going to being going up against a literal small army before we make it to your bartender friend, if she's even still alive at this point."

"She's alive." Hank and Sanford spoke in unison, tones offering no argument. Hank and Sanford kept their gaze on the facility, clearly tense.

"Right. Hey, holy savior, got anything to corroborate that? Some kinda mystic feeling in your bones or whatever the hell else?"

Jeb let out a snort. "As useful as being omniscient would be, I'm afraid that's not something I have."

Letting out a sigh, Fenrir hunched himself over the steering wheel. "Great. Thanks. Don't know why I even asked. After all, why would the world ever give me a goddamn break?" The high pitched screeching of Fenrir gnashing his teeth together rang out through the car, causing Sanford and Jebus to wince. "Alright. At this point we're just putting it off. Let's rock."

Rye breathed in shakily, unsure how long it had been since Jormun and Surt had started their 'interrogation'. An hour? Three? The bartender hadn't passed out from the pain yet, but it was getting harder every time they gave her a break to keep her eyes open. They had cut, stabbed, beaten, shocked, burned, and generally tortured her with a lot of ways, more than Rye could keep track of. It all hurt like hell. Sure, there was the few times Hank had made a point and stabbed or cut her arm a bit, but it was only to make a quick point, and the man had never taken childlike joy in doing it. But Jormungand was something else.

It was almost like she didn't quite understand what she was doing to the bartender, but the things she said turned that theory into dust. 'You're lasting longer than most people.' 'This one's my favorite, it gets in that one special spot that makes people scream so loud.' Just a couple of things the torturer had said that made it clear as day that she knew exactly the kind of pain she was inflicting, and she was taking great glee from the fact.

Surt, on the other hand, was a lot more hesitant and remorseful, constantly reminding Rye that the pain would stop as soon as she started telling them what they wanted to hear. Unfortunately, what they wanted wasn't what she could tell them. Oh yeah, let me just tell you how I threw myself at this random guy I met, and convinced him to turn against you all, yeah that's totally what happened. The thought almost brought a smile to Rye's face.

"Maybe she really doesn't know anything, and this is just a giant waste of time."

"Mmm, no."

"No? The fuck do you mean 'No'?!"

"She's just really good at keeping secrets. Hm, maybe we're going about this the wrong way. We're hurting her, but it's nothing that'll last, really leave a mark on her, y'know?"

"...And? We're gonna, what, start sawing off limbs? Maybe rip out an eye or two?"

"I was thinking we'd start at either fingers or toes. Start with the useless ones, then work our way up."

"You're sick, you know that, right?"

"I like to think of it as me being very enthusiastic about what I do. Besides, Papa wouldn't love me any other way."

The man let out a snort. "Of course."

Rye gulped, hating how their conversation had gone. She hated that she hadn't thought of anything to tell them to delay their torture even more. "C-come on, I'm sure that's not really needed, right?"

Surt let out a sigh. "Unless you have something that would explain why Fenrir decided to turn on us, I'm afraid Jormun here's going to start leaving some lasting scars."

Rye's mind frantically went back to the two times she had even talked to the man, before latching onto something he had said with a rage she hadn't thought he was capable of with how uncaring he usually presented himself as. "T-there might be something..." Rye gulped down a breath, trying to keep her voice steady despite the pain. "He said something about the AAHW killing a kid and trying to blame it on Hank and his friends. I-"

"HE WHAT?!" Rye flinched in her binds as Surt strode to her, grabbing her by the shoulders. "Did he give you any names?! Anything?!"

Rye shook her head with as much vigor as she could. "No! That's all he told me! If he told me anything important I would have told you!" It was true, if it was Hank or any of the other guys, she'd keep her mouth shut until they found her, or her torturers decided they were bored and finally killed her. But Fenrir? Sure, it sucked that Hank killed his brother, but she didn't trust the guy half as far as she could throw him. Rye wouldn't hesitate to throw him under the bus if she had any real information she could give.

Surt rubbed at his face, turning to Jormungand. "He knows."

Jormungand tilted her head to the side, raising a brow. "Huh? About what?"

"He knows that Loki's the one that poisoned Devin!" Surt started pacing, obscuring the light bearing down on the bartender every other second.

"But how? Papa made sure that nothing led to him."

"I don't know, and I don't want to know. He..." Surt stopped his pacing, tapping a finger against the corner of his mouth. "He's not going to stop until he knows for a fact that we're all dead."

"But that stupid kid just made brother weaker. He couldn't even shoot a gun straight, and it was going to get him killed eventually."

"You don't get it, Jormun. That kid was the last blood family Fenrir had. He-" Surt stopped, and shook his head. "Devin was the only thing keeping Fenrir from turning into a real fucking animal. Now..." Surt shrugged, as if he was already resigned to his fate. "Well, you've never seem him really cut loose."

"Please, how bad can it be?" As soon as Jormungand had finished her question, alarms began blaring.

"CODE BLACK! REPEAT, CODE BLACK! FENRIR HAS BITTEN THE HAND THAT FEEDS! REPEAT, FENRIR HAS-"

The voice cut off almost as soon as it began yelling into the intercom. Then, a familiar voice spoke up in place of the first. "You idiots fucked up. You could have just tried to come after me and the others. But no, you had to take the woman I love. And now you get to pay for it."

The intercom cut out, leaving the room in silence save for the loud blaring. Rye looked up, mouth agape. "Hank?"

Jormungand let out a huff. "'Woman he loves', huh? Alright. Let's see if I can't give her a face only he can love."

Rye flinched, eyes wide. "What?! But I gave you what I could!"

Jormungand scowled, grabbing a scalpel from the pile of torture tools. "Don't care, pissed off." That was all the warning Rye got before she was grabbed by her hair, and her head was yanked backwards, her glasses flying off somewhere. "Keep your eyes open, I want you to see it."

"Wha-" Rye didn't even managed to get the word out before the most excruciating pain she had ever felt in her life assaulted her senses. It took a few seconds before she realized that she couldn't see out of her left eye, thanks to the fact that Jormungand was currently using the scalpel to destroy it. Screaming out in agony, the bartender tried her best to jerk away from the surgical tool, but the psychotic woman's grip was too strong.

After a few more seconds of having her eye ruined beyond any saving, Rye felt Jormungand's grip vanish, and the scalpel was yanked out, causing one last flash of pain. The bartender thought she could feel tears pouring out from her eyes, but she wasn't sure if it was just the blood. Her vision was growing darker by the second, and she would have welcomed the embrace of unconsciousness, but before she could fully go under, a stabbing pain surged from her leg. Looking up, she saw the scalpel embedded into her leg, although it wasn't nearly as deep as it could have gone. Rye's vision was suddenly filled with a hand snapping its fingers. "Hey, stay awake! You're not allowed to pass out!"

The bartender shivered, barely gathering enough strength to whisper, "Please..."

Hank emptied the rest of the M16's magazine into a Soldat, turning his head into something looking like a cracked open egg, the yellow blood reminding him of egg yolk. Taking the G36 from the dead Agent, Hank fired a four round burst at an Engineer poking his head from the crate he had been using as cover, the last two rounds nailing him straight in the mask.

From his side, using a table as makeshift cover, Fenrir let out a growl as he blindly aimed over with a SPAS-12, calling out to Hank. "Y'know, we probably could have gotten there by now if you didn't MAKE AN ANNOUNCEMENT RIGHT IN THE COMM ROOM!"

Hank ignored Fenrir's complaint, instead focusing on the newest wave of Agents pouring in from the other side of the room. From somewhere behind him, Sanford kept up his suppressing fire with an MG42. yelling out to the psychopath. "Yeah, kinda with him on this one, bud!"

As the Agents thinned out, until only a few remained, Hank had only one thought running through his head, over and over. Be okay. Once the roomed had been cleared out, with Fenrir and Sanford letting out small sighs, Hank looked over to the two of them, finally addressing Fenrir's complaint. "I want them to know that they made a terrible mistake. I want them to know I'm coming for them. I want them to die afraid."

Fenrir sighed again, rubbing at the back of his had. "Alright, yeah I get that. But still, at least let us know when you're gonna pull some psychological warfare like that."

"No." Hank knew he wasn't exactly thinking clearly at the moment, but he really couldn't bring himself to care. "Alright, how much longer till we get there?"

Sanford reach into the back pocket of his pants, pulling out a smallish piece of paper, looking at it for a few seconds. "Keeping heading straight for two hallways, then we'll be right next to the armory, we could stock up on ammo and a few weapons. From there, we head out the second door on the west side, and then north for another two rooms. Easy enough."

Fenrir snorted. "Sure, just another walk in the park. Here's hoping nobody brought their boombox."

Hank let out a huff, checking the magazine to his rifle. "Why does everyone keep bringing that up?"

"Because in retrospect it's literally nothing compared to all the other shit you did, and the fact that you killed a dude over a fucking boombox is baffling to a normal person."

"But still."

Jebus let out a small cough, twirling his S&W 500 around his finger. "Can we please get moving? We're wasting much more time than we need to." With that, the group pressed on, clearing the hallways without much resistance, before seeing the door to the armory welded to the floor. The savior looked at it for a few seconds, before raising a hand, and slowly raising a finger at the door. The metal door began to groan, before the floor was ripped upward along with the door.

As soon as the door was flung upward, a hail of gunfire was fired out, Jebus holding out a hand, a faint red glow coming off of it. The bullets stopped midair, collecting until the gunfire stopped. Someone inside the armory spoke up in confusion, "The fuck?" As soon as the words were uttered, Jebus pushed his hand forward, and every bullet shot right back into the armory, shredding through anyone inside.

The savior entered the room first, scanning the room for any survivors of his counterattack. Seeing nobody moving, Jebus motioned for the others to follow. "Well, last stop before we find out if your friend is even here in the first place."

The trio ignored Jebus's pessimism, and scanned the armory for ammo, or a better weapon. Fenrir looked for shotgun shells, before he zeroed in on a box of shells that looked a bit different from what he was used to. "Holy shit... Hey, Hank? Wanna swap?"

The psychopath let out a snort. "Why the hell would I?"

The turncoat held up the box of shells, grinning from ear to ear. "Dragon's breath."

Hank's eyes widened, before he tossed his G36 to the floor, rushing over to Fenrir. "Give."

Fenrir laughed, handing his shotgun and the shells to the psycho. "Have fun with that shit. I know I damn well would." Hank ignored the comment, instead ejecting the regular shells that Fenrir still had, and loading in the incendiary rounds.

Everything burns. With that thought, Hank was ready to kill everything in his path. Looking to see Sanford had traded the nearly empty MG42 for an AK47, the psychopath breathed in deeply. Two more rooms. Hank could feel something in his chest, a kind of emotion he hadn't felt for a long time. He couldn't really remember what exactly it was, but he hated it, and he wanted the feeling to stop.

Taking point, Hank raised the SPAS-12, ready to turn anyone in his way into a charred corpse. And as soon as he exited the armory, Hank ducked under three rounds from a Glock, and fired, turning the offending Agent into a mobile bonfire, the poor man screaming in pain as he was cooked alive. The sight made Hank chuckle, loving the agony the Agent was in. Seeing the burning Agent to be the only one in the room, Hank walked past the burning man, barely hearing a shot ring out and the sound of the Agent falling to the ground. The next room was barren, except for the barricade of crates and whatever else they could cram together on short notice. Hank looked over to Jebus, and gestured over to the makeshift barricade.

With a sigh, Jebus held out a hand, and lifted it up, the barricade disassembling and floating into the air in seconds. The group tensed, ready for another surprise hail of gunfire. After a few seconds of nothing, the floating objects moved to the other side, and the group moved forward, Jebus forming a barricade around the door they had entered from.

As the group entered the penultimate room to their destination, Hank was confused to find a single person leaning against a wall, right next to a door. Everyone save for Fenrir raised their weapons, ready to end him, before Fenrir stepped forward, glaring at the man. "Surt. I thought you'd be out of here by now. Got a reason for sticking around?"

The man, built like a brick shed, reminded Hank of Sanford, with how he seemed calm. Surt nodded his head, fiery auburn hair swinging with the motion. "Jormun's in one of her moods again. She's taking it out on your friend in there."

Fenrir nodded. "Thanks for the heads up."

Surt shook his head. "It's the least I can do after what Loki did to-"

"Shut up. Nobody gets to say his name."

"Not even you?"

"I was supposed to take care of him. Look where that got him."

Surt sighed. "Con-"

Fenrir growled. "No! You all wanted Fenrir! So that's who you're getting."

The man opened his mouth, before he shook his head. "That... Yeah that's fair. Be seeing you, then."

"Get out of here, before I think twice about killing you last."

The man nodded, and began walking away, Sanford speaking up quietly. "So, we're just letting him go?"

Fenrir sighed. "You have bigger things to worry about. Like your bartender friend. Let's see if we can't get the drop on Jormun."

The group split into pairs, stacking up on either side of the door. Fenrir held up a hand, and gave a countdown from three. As the last finger went down, the group rushed into the room, with Hank in the lead. In the middle of the room, a woman was vigorously beating Rye, uncaring of the blood spraying across her face. Hank would have grit his teeth if he still had his lower jaw, instead taking out a knife he had acquired earlier, and rushing forward, stabbing at the woman from the side, aiming to dig the blade dip into her neck.

Unfortunately, the woman noticed the footsteps rushing at her from behind at the last second, and twisted away, the blade only barely grazing her neck. The woman kicked Hank away, with much more strength than she seemed to be capable of possessing. Quickly recovering, Hank threw the knife, and brought up his SPAS-12, ready to cook Jormungand alive. However, the woman simply caught the knife midair, and threw it right back, knocking the shotgun off course, the barrel jerking over to the direction of Rye's motionless body. Hank took a sharp intake of breath, thankful that he had some goddamn trigger discipline.

Jormungand let out a snarl as she reached behind her back with both hands, pulling out a pair of karambit knives. She swung her right arm, and Hank hand to duck down as the arm stretched further than it should have, pieces of flesh pulling apart, revealing a biomechanical horror of segmented limb. "You know, I'd say that I made your little whore of a girlfriend about as pretty as you, but I think I made you look a bit better in comparison, if I'm being entirely honest."

Hank glanced over to Rye, seeing Sanford looking her over. From the way the shirtless man shuddered, it wasn't look good for the bartender. Glaring at Jormungand from behind his goggles. "I'm going to shove this down your throat and burn you from the inside." The woman simply laughed in response, pissing Hank off even further. Rye will be fine. Focus. It was the only thing Hank could think as he rushed forward, sliding under another swung from Jormungand's grotesque arm, and firing at the woman's legs. If the bartender wasn't alive by the time they got out of this shithole, Hank would make the Sheriff's activation of the improbability drive look like a goddamn dropped ice cream cone.