Percy knew what was coming, he was sure of it. With a burst of divine magic, he cloaked himself once more in the mist, willing himself to be unnoticeable to the others in the car. He fumbled with the phone in his pocket for a moment before he managed to pull it free and rattled off a quick text and shoved the phone back in his pocket, dropping the illusion.

They drove for nearly an hour in silence, but as they drove into an industrial park, John pulled over to the curb, and Tony finally spoke up.

"There's a chop shop a block from here. They've been cutting up stolen cars for the family for years. Geronimo, the bastard running the joint, is an old buddy of Sal. We're going to go in, hit 'em hard, and show 'em what happens when you turn on the family."

"We killing 'em?" Asked John. Tony's face soured, but nodded. Neither men looked particularly pleased with the task. Percy was, if nothing, ambivalent. If this was a chop shop, it meant everyone inside was dirty or part of the family. As far as he was concerned, that made them expendable. Enemy combatants who knew the score of the life they lived. It might not have been the healthiest coping mechanism, but it was what he needed at the moment. The familiarity of combat. Duty. It was what had allowed him to get this far, and he needed the comfort of that mindset these days more than ever.

He glanced out the window. The industrial park was in the older part of the city, from when Gotham had been a steel manufacturing hub. This area of the city reflected that. The manufacturing buildings lining the skyline were old and decrepit. Falling apart at the seams and long since abandoned. Through the dark and the rain, Percy could just make out a set of lights near the end of the street. As the only lights still working on the run-down street, it wasn't difficult to discern that it must have been their target.

"Out," ordered Tony. His voice was clipped. Tight. Oddly professional sounding from the otherwise ostentatious man. Percy pulled himself from the car, and followed Tony to the back of the car as he opened the trunk. John turned the engine off and followed. Tony reached into the trunk and brushed aside a number of discarded jackets and a blanket. Pulling on a small hinge, he opened a hidden compartment. Percy felt his stomach tighten as he gazed down on a number of automatic weapons.

Tony grabbed a compact machine pistol and handed it over to John, before grabbing a second and passing it to Percy. Wordlessly, Percy accepted the weapon, running his fingers along the smooth groove of the trigger guard. Behind him, he could hear chambers open and assumed that the others were going through the same exercise.

His body began acting on instinct as he went through the seemingly ritualistic routine of checking over his weapon. He wasn't overly familiar with this particular model of machine pistol; he'd always opted for heavier weaponry. He checked the magazine, it was an extended thirty-three rounder, he rammed the magazine back home and racked a round in the chamber. It was a comfortable enough fit in his palm, though perhaps a bit on the smaller side. All the same, it would do. He reached down into the trunk, and gripped a couple of additional magazines and slipped them into his back pocket.

Tony stepped around the car, peering through the darkness at the assembled cars. He reached into his pocket and pulled his phone free. He punched in a number and hoisted it to his ear.

"All set?" he waited a moment and nodded, "All right, we'll go in the front, the rest of you go around back and take care of anyone who punches through." He ended the call and stuffed the phone back in the pocket of his coat.

"Come on."

The rain seemed to grow in intensity as they marched through the darkness. Good, it would act as a mask for their approach. Within ten minutes, they were lined up at the outside of the factory. Even over the thrum of the rain, Percy could hear the sound of heavy machinery. He unconsciously began to scan the skyline for potential overwatch threats, but found none.

"I'll go first," he found himself saying. Tony turned and looked at him, a frown on his face. But even he seemed to recognize the threats of being the first body through the door. Finally, he nodded, and made room for Percy to pass by him. Kneeling to the ground, he checked the door, and was unsurprised to find it locked.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a utility knife. He extended the screwdriver apparatus and jammed the flathead into the lock. He didn't know how to pick a lock subtly, but he didn't need to. With a sharp jerk, he shattered the locking mechanism and the door opened with a click. Between the rain and the sound of machinery inside, the shattering was masked entirely.

He glanced up once more, scanning the skyline. He half-expected a darkened silhouette descending down on them from on high. But he saw nothing, and sensed nothing. He looked behind him at Tony and nodded. He stood up, and pulled on the handle. The door opened easily, but Percy winced as the old hinges creaked and groaned. He stopped the pull when the door was half open. Just wide enough for Percy to slide through, and he shimmied inside. He heard the door creak more as John was forced to open it wider for his considerable bulk, but Percy ignored it.

The door opened up into a reception area. A number of empty chairs were staggered around in the corner by a fake potted plant, opposite an unoccupied desk and terminal. There was a door behind the terminal, behind which Percy could see into the massive factory floor. He could see the flash of sparks as dozens of heavy saws chewed through metal.

Percy vaulted over the desk and stacked up beside the door. He peeked around through the window of the door. Scattered across the factory floor was nearly a dozen cars of various makes and models. He could see about a dozen men all concentrated on their work of tearing apart the body kits and engine blocks of the cars. Expanding his senses outward, he could feel about a dozen more scattered throughout the factory. Glancing up to the higher level of the factory, he saw a number of crisscrossing catwalks over the factory floor, likely remnants from the factory's old smelting days. Thankfully, he couldn't see or feel anyone on the catwalks. Still, he sighed. This was going to be ugly. At a minimum, two dozen men, all of whom were more than likely armed.

But this was what he'd signed up for, and he'd gotten through worse. He glanced behind him, and with a jerk of his thumb across his throat, he sent a silent message to Tony. He nodded back, and Percy grimaced.

No prisoners. No survivors.

Steeling his resolve for imminent combat, he slowly opened the door. He could try and do this quietly, to try and pick off a couple of them one at a time in silence before the shit hit the fan. But the boys behind him were juiced, running on nothing more than adrenaline and gods only knew what else. There would be no going soft and silent on this one. So he opted instead to pick his targets carefully. He blocked the door with his body, ensuring that the others wouldn't be able to get around him as he scanned the kill box. There were three men near him, their backs turned and not paying attention. He moved silently forward, his weapon shouldered and took aim.

The weapon burped, and three rounds slammed into the back of the first man. He jerked, before collapsing forward, dropping the heavy saw in his hands as he fell. Before the man had even dropped, Percy was already putting three more rounds into the next man. The final man had only just managed to turn around before three more rounds slammed into him.

John let loose a battle cry, charging into the factory his weapon spewing wildly. Percy rolled his eyes. Well, he could at least appreciate the enthusiasm. Percy ran, hunched over, and took cover behind the car the dead men had been working on. Peeking over the hood, he spotted a pair of men about a dozen yards away. They had thrown down their tools and had pulled free a pair of handguns. The weapons were burping lead in the direction of where John was still screaming and shooting. He could see Tony hiding behind a second car a dozen yards away, firing away at somebody at the other side of the factory.

There was a scream, followed by a loud thud, and Percy turned just in time to see as John collapsed to the ground, blood pouring from several holes in his abdomen. Tony watched as John's body fell to the ground with, his eyes closed and blood coagulating under him. Tony's eyes grew wild, whether it was in fear or in rage was uncertain. Though it seemed the fear of failure outweighed the very real threat of death, as Tony redoubled his efforts.

Shooting up behind his cover, he fired wildly into the throngs of men, who quickly ducked behind the cover of the cars. Torn between agitation and mild admiration for the man's brazen stupidity, Percy followed suit. Moving forward with quick, precise steps, Percy moved through the garage, picking off targets as he moved.

The bad guys seemed to feel the mounting pressure, and they began to route themselves further and further to the back of the shop. A shiver went up his spine, and Percy dove behind the body of a nearby car just as a mass of bullets slammed into where he'd been standing moments before. The shots had come from the catwalks above, and as Percy craned his neck skyward, he saw five men dangling their weapons over the edges of the catwalks, and firing down into the crowds below. To make the situation worse, Percy watched as a nearby doorway shot open and another six men scrambled out onto the catwalks.

Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he glanced over to Tony, who was far too preoccupied with what was happening on the other side of the floor and too overcome with battle lust to pay attention to what was happening. Percy hesitated for only a moment, weighing the positives and negatives before ultimately deciding he was a dead man if he did nothing. Snarling in agitation, Percy threw a new magazine into the compact pistol, before throwing a slew of shots into the upper catwalk. One burst slammed into a man, who lurched awkwardly, before toppling over the catwalk and landing with a metallic "thump" on the roof of a nearby car.

With one last glance over his shoulder at Tony to ensure that he wasn't paying attention, Percy crouched, and launched himself into the air. There was a brief moment, as he flew through the air, that the men on the catwalk seemed too stunned to do much more than gawk at him. One man even rubbed at his eyes to make sure he was really seeing it happen. Meta's might have been part of everyday life these days, but most normal people didn't actually see one in action unless a meta was duking it out with a Leaguer.

Percy, not one to sacrifice an opportunity, opened fire, and the goons' hesitance cost them dearly. A storm of bullets slammed into the collected men on the catwalks, who had conveniently lined themselves up in a neat little line. Walking his compact up the line, by the time Percy's feet landed on the metal grates of the catwalk, the five men on Percy's side were down.

The new arrivals, finally having overcome their shock at seeing a man jump two stories into the air, began firing Percy's way. But expert sharpshooters these men were not. Darting forward, Percy moved unpredictably, his superhuman agility allowing him to move faster than the gangbangers could aim. Firing as he moved, four of the men were dropped by the time he got to the corner. As Percy bore down on the last two men, he depressed the trigger, only to be met with the depressing "click" of an empty magazine. Growling, Percy whipped the empty weapon at the nearest man. The man recoiled, blood spurting from a thoroughly broken nose. Closing the distance quickly, Percy reared his foot back and slammed his heel into the goon's solar plexus. The man grunted as the air left his lungs, and Percy could feel through the soles of his shoes as the man's ribs fractured under the blow. The force of attack, shot the poor man backwards, where he slammed into the gunman behind him, toppling the pair into a heap on the ground. Grabbing the pair by the shirts, Percy hefted the men in the air, and bodily tossed them over the guardrail. Their brief descent was capped by a sickening crunching noise, as they slammed into the ground.

Walking over to the railing, Percy glanced down into the still ongoing battle below him. Tony, whether by an act of the gods or through sheer dumb luck, was still alive. Though it wasn't looking particularly good for the man, as he was pinned down by three of the remaining men, who continued to bear down on him. Percy considered briefly, letting the man simply die. Tony was scum of the earth, and Percy was more than willing to let the man die. But he was useful to Percy, and it would beneficial to have someone to vouch for him to the rest of the family.

Jogging over to one of the dead goons by the doorway, Percy picked up a discarded weapon. Another compact machine pistol. Percy took careful aim, and with three well aimed depressions of the trigger, the remaining three men on the floor below dropped. Grunting, Percy callously tossed the pistol to the side, and turned to the doorway behind him. But before he could grip the handle, the door violently shattered and Percy barely caught a glimpse of an enormous white mass, and flowing green strands of hair before the blinding shape slammed into him.

The wind left his lungs as Percy was thrown backwards. His back connected with the railing, before it shattered under the force of the blow. Percy and his assailant were thrown free of the catwalk, and careened down to the factory floor below. Snarling at his own lack of awareness, Percy wrapped his arms around the man's enormous torso and reversed their positions. Not a moment later, a jolt shuddered through his body, as the pair slammed into the roof of a parked car. The roof crumpled under the force of the impact, and Percy was thrown free of the assailant.

He landed roughly, tumbling along the ground for a few seconds before managing to throw himself back to his feet. Skidding to a stop a few dozen feet away from the car, he got his first real look at his attacker as he slowly got to his feet. He was a monster of a man. Maybe just shy of seven feet tall, and built like a bull. His torso was a mess of tattoos, though the centerpiece of the body art was the hammer and sickle of the Soviet Union. His face was covered in chalk-white paint. His lips ruby red and mimicking a wicked grin. His balding crown was adorned by twin leaf's of dyed green hair that fluttered out like a pair of angel wings. But the most eye-catching part of the man, was the lack of his left arm, as though it had been violently torn away from the shoulder up. Wrapped up in his massive hand, was the handle of an enormous sledge hammer.

"Holy shit…"

Percy turned as Tony appeared from the side of a nearby car.

"Mr. Hammer…"

"Who?"

Tony shuddered, taking a cautious step back. He didn't answer Percy, instead he raised his pistol and tried to fire, but the weapon clicked. Tony looked down at the weapon, as though the instrument had betrayed him. Mr. Hammer noticed the weapon, and let loose a violent roar of fury. Hefting his hammer, his hand blurred as it raced through the air. Tony didn't even have a chance to react as the metal head of the sledge hammer slammed into his forehead. A sickening "crunch" reverberated around the factory as Tony crumpled to the ground, his face little more than bloody paste.

Percy sighed. So much for having Tony around to vouch for him. Turning his attention back to Mr. Hammer, Percy rolled his neck and received a serious of pleasant crunches in response. With another snarl of fury, Mr. Hammer charged forward. Percy met the charge head on, catching the man's massive hands around the wrists. Smirking, Percy brought his foot up and violently kicked the massive man in the groin. Mr. Hammer stiffened, his eyes crossing in pain as he collapsed to his knees. Bringing his hands up, Percy brought them together and smacking the man in both ears. Mr. Hammer screamed in misery, blood pooling out of his ears as both of his ear drums were ruptured. With one final punch to the middle of the large man's forehead, his eyes rolled to the back of his head before collapsing to a heap on the ground.

Rolling his shoulders, Percy kicked the man one last time in the temple for good measure, and walked over to Tony. Maybe there was some small hope for the bastard. But the sight of the man's broken face put that to rest.

"Fuck" Percy whispered. "What a mess…"

But, there was nothing to do with it. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he dialed the number for their direct supervisor, a Capo by the name of Max Gilligan.

"The fuck do you want Binky?"

Percy rolled his eyes at the nickname, but otherwise ignored it.

"We're done here, but there's a problem,"

Gilligan swore on the other end, "Who's dead?"

"Tony and John,"

Gilligan swore again.

"The fuck happened?"

"John was a dumbass and Tony got smacked by some dude he called Mr. Hammer."

"Who the fuck is that?"

"How the hell should I know?" Percy snapped back, "Big mother fucker though, only had one arm and looked like he just left a Joker cosplay convention."

"…" Gilligan was silent for a few seconds, before sighing. "Alright, well get the fuck out of there. I'll let you know where you're going next. And one more thing…"

"Yeah?"

"Good work."