2021-01-16 - Fistful of Dollars

All quiet on the Chehalis front, and for now that's how it's staying if Rhys has anything to say about it. And he's had things to say about it, in the immediate run up to 'now'. Some of the quieter sets of eyes in the organization have been sent by in the last days, and the accountant has had the information passed on: how the place is far less abandoned than it looks, not that that part's news; how they're trying hard to make it look that way, and how the home team (that's us, fellas) might be able to make use of that.

"No walking patrols, but there's likely watchers in windows, maybe hiding in some of those shipping crates. If we're careful and quiet though, and keep those vantage points in mind, we may be able to sneak past a lot of the perimeter security. In other news? It's lookin' kinda meth lab in there, so careful about making anything blow up that you didn't mean to. And try not to mean to until and unless we're ready for that. We've got at least ten people in there, maybe some more, but it's hard to tell who's aiming for a career in chemistry and who's more interested in ballistics. I have," he lifts his phone, "a handy little track on his phone right now, courtesy of a friend, so we ought to be able to narrow down where our new best friend is hanging out a little better than 'somewhere in there', if what they say about all those satellites up there is true." A bright grin, with that. And now, looking like time to see if it is.

Whatever the world knows about COah Kelly is on fucking goddamn hold. He's angry, and even by his own admission calling him 'difficult' lately is the tip of the ice burg. These assholes hurt his town, hurt his business, hurt his crew's ability to make income, crippled their drug trade, made him move the date of his fucking wedding... and made taking his dog for walkies a real bitch. He's told his lieutenants he wants heads, answers, and Darryl DuBois strapped to a fucking chair so he can have a 'conversation' with him.

Tonight's about guns and sending a message up for Reyes that he's fucked with the wrong goddamn town - sincerely, Joey Kelly. Is there shit on hand to take down some infrastructure? Fucking right there is! Angry green eyes watch the building and he is, for all it's worth, keeping his tone cute but trying not to snipe at his own people. Felix might not care about that shit but to Kelly it does.

"Good. You run across civvies? Subdue em. Anyone with a weapon is fair fucking game. I want DuBois."

Cris learned his lesson last time dealing with Daryl's boys, so this time he's dug out his ballistic's vest in the hopes of not adding any new holes to his torso. He's strapped to the nines, and dressed head to toe in black, including a knit cap over his hair and a jacket that's loose enough for ease of movement. "I'll even put a bow on his fucking head." He's checking the magazine of his favored gun, the Walther PPK, for the umpteenth time.

The whisper-quiet noise of the Chevy Volt's engine doesn't really give away that the car approaches the group with its headlights turned off, only the crunch of the gravel under the tires. The younger Monaghan and his passenger coast to a stop a few yards from the group, "See, I told you we had time to 'borrow' this thing. Looks like the party is just about to start, Vic."

Seth makes his way to the back of the little electric car and pops the trunk, removing the party favors for tonights gathering. Sidearms are slid into holsters and a scoped AR-15 with a bump-stock is slung over one shoulder. He is dressed all in black, from his gloves to his boots, a knit cap also pulled down low over his head as he approaches the others, nodding a greeting.

"I feel dirty being in this thing. Electric. Jesus if we get in a car chase we're dead." Vic has been waiting for this moment for months. Ever since she and Cris tracked down Joey's missing car and saw the plan to frame the man with it, she's been ready to get back at Reyes' organization. The enforcer gears up beside Seth, dressed in all black, BDUs, turtleneck, leather jacket, boots. Her hair is tucked up under a black wool cap. She has a nasty looking rifle in her hands, one usually only the military gets its hands on, the FN SCAR- L COC. She also has her Glock in a shoulder holster, her batons in a holster on her back, and a knife strapped to one thigh. She's here to party, clearly. She has other gear on her, stored in her magical pocket of holding in her coat, extra magazines, tools like picks, rope, duct tape, zipties, and more. As they join the crew, Rhys' information is tucked away methodically in her brain, and Joey gets a silent nod of understanding. She glances towards the cranes towering over the site. "Do we want a sniper set up, to make sure no one gets out? And that reinforcements don't get in?"

Itzhak ain't Team Felix, a'ight? He's Team Joey. It's a subtle but important difference. He's got no guns. Obviously. He can't fucking shoot. He's got no armor--no visible armor. He's got something far worse than guns, something invisible, something wild. And a set of brass knuckles, and a knife. Always that. Silent, scowling, he's paying attention to Joey, and to their surroundings.

Vic slings her rifle to her back and tugs on her leather gloves. "That crane on the east side of the compound looks like a perfect way in, without getting spotted by their container lookouts. I'm up for a climb, anyone else?" She grins, ferally. It's a scary look for her. She is all predator tonight. She begins heading towards the east side of the compound, keeping low, checking every few meters for any movement on either side of the fence.

Cris kisses a crucifix that hangs around his neck and tucks the pendant back into his shirt. "Right. Up and over." Weapon drawn for now, barrel pointed towards the ground, he sweeps forward with his shoulder leading, keeping a look out and cover for those breaching the fence.

Joey surveys the area and nods, "The back and the top get less attention. Crane it is. Itz Make us a hole. If you fall off the damn crane? Keep it to yourselves." in brief: let's keep this fuckign quiet. "Vic, Take Seth, and Itzhak up the chain. Cris? You and Rhys... you're with me round the other side. We meet up there. in the middle. Cris, we're gonna leave em some presents on the way." He gestures to the point in the middle. "This lets us clear our way out ahead of time and cuts back on reinforcements. I want people in place though. When we draw their attention? Slam em from behind."

Itzhak is uncharacteristically completely silent. When normally he's running his mouth and swanning around and being his big fabulous queer self, not now. Not tonight. The violinist and performer and garrulous mechanic are all boxed away. The way he moves isn't a swagger, it's a slink. He gives Joey a meaningful 'boss, you know I can't sneak for the life of me' kinda look, and then he's moving to get bolt cutters out of his satchel (how did they fit in there??) and make a damned hole.

Seth tracks Vic's eyes over towards the crane and nods in agreement, "Good entry point. I'm in," the other enforcer affirms. He's seen this look in Vic before, someone is in for a very bad time, thank god it isn't him. He secures his own rifle to his back, tugging at it to make sure that it is secure and looks to the others, "If we need a distraction, feel free to use the car. It's a piece of shit anyway," before he follows along in Vic's path jogging on light feet to catch up to the blonde.

Yeah, dark clothes, body armor, and various guns of all kinds of fondleabilty are the order of the day, and Rhys is not found wanting. He looks as comfortable as anyone with it all, giving the equipment an efficient check as they prepare. There's also a taser tucked in a handy pocket, because sometimes it's easier to get info out of someone before there are holes in them. Should the opportunity arise. Everything seems to be set to his satisfaction, and there's a quiet buzz of energy through him. It's not the taser. The crane gets an appraising look when Vic suggests it, and he makes a couple quick adjustments to ensure things are firmly settled as he considers it. Okay, it looks kind of fun, but there's a quick nod nonetheless to Joey's declaration, and a quick salute. Half-joking, that, but it's still executed like there's a fair bit of muscle memory in there. "Works for me."

Vic keeps low, moving swiftly and quietly across the open space, ignoring the burrs that stick to her pants and hat. Fortunately, leather doesn't seem to stuck to the little things. She reaches the crane, and she moves to the chain, leaping up to grab hold and climbing it swiftly, hand over hand, booted feet clenching the chain with every hoist. She balances on top of the arm, and gestures for Seth to come up, before she picks her way down the metal arm to the cab, and drops to a crouch beside the machine.

There is a sharp nod from Cristobal to Joey, seeing no fault in that plan and more than happy to oblige. As they slip in through the opening that Itzhak creates, he makes hand gestures that are easy to interpret. He points to his eyes and then starts indicating places around the yard that are the best vantage points for baddies to be hiding and keeping an eye out among the shipping containers. A slice across his throat means they should check and take out those targets as quietly as possible before they proceed further.

Why is this crane so goddamn obstreperous when usually physical objects love Itzhak, adore him, want to serve his every whim? This crane ain't so hot on him. He slips, grabs the chain, mutters, "C'mon, baby, don't be like this." Another with the moving Song may have cursed the damn thing against movers, he kinda thinks! But he convinces the crane to let him have his way with it, and slithers down to the asphalt looking cranky. He shakes flakes of rust off his gloved hands, his magnificent beak pointing at the warehouse.

The Underboss, former Enforcer flashes Cris a look slightly amused. Almost like old times. And then there's Rhys like a fucking shadow where even Joey has to hold his breath for a moment. The devices are meant to catch attention. Small. Remote. Not much more than a flash bangs on some and on others? It's gonna be like the Forth of fucking July. He rolls against the truck, Beretta drawn keeping an eye on the outposts and then the crane. Awesome. He waits for the crane crew to move a little more, checks the yard and with the other two makes light on the feet to press forward again. There is a few minutes before that yard's going to get a bit loud.

Following Vic's lead, Seth moves in a crouch through the underbrush as he largely ignores the burs that adhere themselves to the fabric of his clothing. There will be time to deal with that annoyance later, but he has more pressing things on his mind a the moment. The enforcer reaches the crane, watching Vic ascend to make sure the other enforcer doesn't have a tumble, she climbs the chain with ease however so Seth is next up. He leaps onto the chain and hand over hands the ascent, making it look like it was almost effortless. Reaching the top the younger Monaghan runs along the top of the crane arm like one of those dextrous American Ninja Warriors, the soft leather of his boots making a soft patting sound as he drops down next to Vic.

There are benefits to being relatively small, and one of them is there's more stuff you can use for cover without any weird twisting or such. And Rhys may or may not have been Gray Harbor Elementary's hide-and-seek champion four years running (or mostly not running, since that's a good way to get seen). Certainly he's sneakin' like a sneaky thing right now, silent and slick. A few equally clear gestures including a nod or two answer Cristobal, indicating the places the recon suggested were the most likely for watchers to be watching; between that and their current vantage they should be able to get a good assessment. And as they go, there's a little package tucked here, and another gently stuck there...

Vic gives Seth a hand down, and then Itzhak as well, wincing as the mechanic nearly tumbles off the chain a few times. When the trio are back on terra firma, she gestures towards the side of the warehouse, then to the west. There was a door on that side, to one of the offices. They can wait hunkered down by it until Rhys gives the signal about which building their target is in. She leans an ear to the door to listen.

Cristobal mostly covers Rhys and Joey as they drop little presents in strategic places, but at one point he peels off from the others, rolling his shoulders against the side of storage container and around its corner. Low to the ground he creeps, sliding his weapon back into the holster to replace it with a KBAR because he has his eyes set on something. Or rather, someone. There is no quip to announce his presence, just a sudden movement and a brief moment of wrestling his hand over the man's mouth before that keen edged blade slices neatly from ear to ear. Lowering the body down quietly to the ground, Cris drags him into the container to bleed out in the shadows.

Joey looks to Rhys and points to him and then up up up where the guy sitting century with the assault rifle is. That's a GREAT spot for a sniper and for them to not assume their guy is missing either. He pointsto the weapon that came with and then ...well fuck there's another one. He makes a gesture of 'cover me' to him While Cris is tidying up on one he's going to try to head after numero dos. Here's to scaling that thing quickly enough...

Seth takes up a position at Vic's back to cover the other enforcer while she is doing her ultra low-tech surveillance of what is inside, reaching around to unhook and sling the AR-15 into his hands before racking the slide and thumbing the safety off. He reaches up and pats the former cop on the shoulder, letting her know he is good to go and is watching her back.

Free assault rifles are tempting, particularly since if you have them someone else doesn't! Rhys would be perfectly pleased to have another, and though there's a hint of hesitation, might not have argued with being sent to take over that spot for sniping, if it has a decent view of where they're going. The slight change of plans isn't exactly ideal, given the cause, but on the other hand, there's a bunch of explosives planted in this general area now. Moving on has things to recommend it as well! He slides through the shadows, though it's not quite so one-with-them as he hurries a bit more. Good enough, anyway. His attention focuses a bit more directly from their surroundings as a whole to the job of, indeed, covering Joey.

Itzhak slinks close to the corrugated metal to listen too. What he hears makes his eyes go wide, and he glances to Seth and Vic. "They got a lot of unstable shit in there," he mouths, near-silent, "and there's a bunch of 'em, too. Jesus." That swear is silent.

Vic grimaces at Itzhak. She narrows her eyes, then pokes about to see if she can connect to him mentally. She can only seem to do it with other readers. What do you mean, unstable shit? she thinks at the mechanic. She can't reach Seth the same way, sadly. She keeps still, listening for any noise coming from outside of the warehouse while the other two eavesdrop.

Cris emerges back at Joey's side, flicking blood off his knife and wiping the remainder on his pant leg and tucking it away. His doesn't even have a chance to realize they are spotted before Joey is already on the move, going at that storage crate like a spider monkey. He just locks eyes with the guy and sort of shrugs in a 'sucks to be you' gesture.

Joey wasn't aware how ravenous for revenge he really was until it's on and the man in front of him, above really, draws in that breath which is about to be his last so, ya know, it's best that he made it a good one. Good for him. It's a quick headlock and after a small scuffle about it a neck snap. Quick and quiet. The sort of feeling that might haunt his limbs later but right now he's got people on this mission to keep alive and a city to defent one morally rehensible act at a time.

If the city could afford super heroes they'd have cleaned all this up by now. Right now Ms. Simmons and her tiny dog?
She's got this group of thugs. Joey takes his phone, and gives the weapon a toss down to Cris before rolling the body off the back side, grabbing the edge, and hopping down trying to land quiet.

"I count four to six to be exact," Seth says quietly in retort to Itz. "The good news is they don't know we are here. We can get the drop on them. What I don't know is if Reyes is with them or not." the enforcer quietly says to his teammates. "Pop the door, toss a couple of flashbangs in and we might have enough time to get the odds into our favor. What is our situation on the door?"

Itzhak, crouched there, long skinny legs folded up and one big gloved hand on the wall, sends back to Vic in a flourish of delicate, muted violin music. (He sounds like a violin, in the kythe. Go figure.) His music forms a picture of things he's seen: meth labs, jugs of unstable chemicals sitting around, open sewer pipes. And a bunch of idiot criminals not respecting their materials. That's how you lose a trailer park. He glances at Seth, and slinks over and eeeever so gently, ever so cautiously, tests the door. <<Deadbolt,>> he sends back. <<I can throw it with the Song, but we know some of these guys have it too. They might hear me.>>

Rhys gives a small breath of a relief as Joey takes the guy down with no need for further action on his part; the taser wouldn't reach from here and a gunshot would likely announce them almost as well as the watcher could have. This is much better. Aside from for the now-dead guy, and possibly Joey's sleep tonight. Or possibly not. That dude knew what he signed on for, right? The accountant scans the area as they move on and continue toward the building that his app says contains their ultimate goal. And probably a lot of things you don't want to breathe or set on fire, though those don't show up on the phone.

Vic gives Seth an approving nod at the relayed info. She texts the information to Joey on a burner phone, everyone was doubtless given one for this op.

***From Vic (to Joey): 4-6 inside e. wh - full of boom chems. Door locked. Is target in this building? Orders?

She shields the light from the screen inside of her jacket, waiting for a reply. She shakes her head at Itzhak. <<If we are told to go in, I can pick it traditionally.>> She holds up a hand to indicate they need to wait for a response from the boss.

Cristobal catches the rifle as it's tossed down to him, checking the bolt before slinging the strap over his shoulder. He's at the side of the container to offer Joey a hand down, taking some of his weight to allow a smooth and quiet transition down. Eyes go to Rhys for direction of their main target, ready to head off on their heels and cover their position from the rear.

Joey leans on Cris and takes the help down. Cowboys get killed. Teamwork makes the dream work. Wonder how that works with a team of cowboys? Huh. The idle shit Joey thinks about at times like these. He tests Vic

From Joey (to Vic): Yard clear. North Warehouse. Not river. Look for get away cars in case. Sitrep?

Thankfully he's not on voice to text. He looks Cris over and nods and then from Rhy's phone to the path. Close to the building, below the windows might work best. Being a warehouse that shouldn't be too bad to do.

Seth blinks, his eyes just widening and blinking in surprise as he shifts his gaze over to the unspeaking Itz. "I heard people could do that," the enforcer says in hushed tones, "but nobody has ever done it to me. That's just weird..." Pause. "I don't know if we have a choice so we may just have to take that chance," he adds, not knowing that Itz and Vic have their own conversation going, "I don't think I can pick that, can you Vic? Otherwise, we just wait till we hear from the others and do it as they coordinate."

The phone seems pretty sure, which is pleasing. Rhys makes a note to buy the Friend a coffee and maybe see about creating some interest in future work opportunities. The pair with him get a glance and a tilt-lean of the head to indicate the northern warehouse as their destination. Yep, that's the one there, and he continues toward it, carefully, assessing it and its surroundings as they near it. What options do they have for finishing the approach, and entering? Any good way to get a look in? The answers to these and other questions, next time...

<<She says she can pick it,>> comes Itzhak's violin to Seth. He sounds amused. Seth's never heard the mind Song before and they picked a hell of a time to bust his cherry. <<I'm waiting.>> He hikes his eyebrows at the other two, meaningfully, and he waits.

Vic texts back:

***From Vic (to Joey): E. WH not aware. Heading to N. Bldg.. Back door on n. side to stay out of sight.

She pockets the phone and gestures to the two men with her, then to the north building. "Target is in there. We'll go round back," she whispers. Then she begins to move to the north building, rounding the side to creep along the back to the door at the far end of the structure.

As the creeper mccreepersons head along the outside of the warehouse, Cris keeps his back nearly flush along the wall and cross-steps his way along. Side arm now in hand, he keeps the barrel pointed up, elbows bent and prepared to cover and provide suppressive fire when they make their entrance.

Itzhak thumbs-up to Vic (his violin giving a little glissando of assent) and...okay, he's not that sneaky anymore, but even he can manage this, slipping around the side of the building, letting those old B&E instincts float to the top.

Joey eyes the building and pulls out a tear gas container. Guess what? he's the fucking football coach for teh reason. He catches Itzhak's eye for GO LONG, BUDDY! and throws that up there for him. It's some trust but the guy hasn't been hit in the head by anything short of a fist yet, so.... "Wait for it. Spread out." NOW is the time they get ready for this. Joey gets up closer to the door sliding a mask from his bag in place. This was discussed before hand. First one that comes out gets popped. Just to say hi.

The younger Monaghan holds up a finger in a 'one moment' gesture and reaches around to a pouch at his back to pull out a small roll of fishing line. He slowly ties one end to the door handle and the other to the loosened pin of a flashbang that he carefully rests against the door with the key slightly placed in the gap between the door and floor. It's a crude and quick job, but hopefully, it will give them a heads up if someone happens to come out that back door. Once the trap is set, he quickly catches up to Vic and Itz, running in a crouch to be as low as he can be and still mobile.

Mask time! Rhys slides his into place and the phone into his pocket for the moment, with a nod to Joey. Yes, this was discussed beforehand. He takes up his assigned spot, drawing and readying a gun for that friendly greeting they'd discussed. As long as it's not Daryl himself who emerges first, anyway. Or at least the aim'll probably change. The earlier energy's still there as he settles into that initial spot, but it's settling into something more channeled, now.

Itzhak's busy pulling a mask out of his satchel of tricks and settling it on, and neatly catches the thrown tear gas grenade at the same time, in his other hand. Quick upnod to Joey. Nice to have something go ever-so-briefly right! He holds up three fingers and looks around, making sure everybody's paying attention. Counting down, to two fingers, to one finger--and he kisses the grenade via a mask bump and hurls it through the window. KK-SSH! goes the glass and then the hissing of the gas goes ssssssssss as it pours out within the building.

Vic's mask is pulled from her coat pocket of holding and put on. She picks herself a spot and unslings her rifle. She goes down on one knee and levels the weapon at the back door, marking the distance and adjusting her scope. If it's Daryl that runs out first, he gets it in the knee, if not, she's aiming for heads. As the big guy comes out first, she takes her shot. He moves so much from coughing, she only manages to graze his side with her bullet and curses under her breath.

Cris gives a wicked, tilted smirk that has his lips rising a little higher over one canine than the other as he unclips his mask from his belt and slides it down over his features. His voice is muffled as it comes through the CM-6M filtered valves. "Ding dong, Avon calling." And then he's moving his positioning so that none of the 'friendlies' will be in his line of fire when shit hits the proverbial fan and the gas canisters go in. Knowing they have the advantage, he stands out in plain view with a proper almost relaxed stance and as a form appears in the midsts of smoke that billows out, he squeezes off his rounds towards center mass.

Joey in standing there like some manner of bad news plague biker. He's prepared at the very least and when the guys run out he ducks as in coming fire pours in on the targets. He closes the gap leaning to the side and coming in low with that knife aiming for under the seam in the body armor. What is bulletproof is not as often knife proof. A WHOLE lot of faith his team ain't gonna gun him down and be like 'Felix, bad news man... but I hear there's a job opening!'.

Screweing around with the boobytrap on the door of the other warehouse causes Seth to lose the time it would have taken him to get the mask out of his pack, so he has to go without. As the two bodyguards rush out and the gas along with it, the briefest exposure causes the enforcer's eyes to water just enough to throw off his aim, a sneeze causing the tip of his rifle to drop at the moment of fire so the bullet simply grazes the leg of his intended target. Annoyed by his own ineptitude, Seth growls low in his throat and takes aim for another shot at the other bodyguard, since Joey and Cris seem to have that one well in hand.

Itzhak has eyes for one man and it's Daryl DuBois. After that agreed-upon first figure comes stumbling out, he comes out of the night and smoke at him, left fist and brass knuckles first. WHAP! Solid hit to the guy's bicep, that must hurt like hell. If Itzhak has his way, DuBois is going to be introduced to many, many more fists in the near future.

Rhys's picked a good spot for that door opening -- that was the point, after all -- and he waits, ready for it, until it does. Knowing Joey's going to be going for someone as well helps with avoiding being friendly fire, and he already has the gun aimed about right for center-mass on an average guy -- well, average thug at the least -- when the trio fall out of the door. The closer of the bodyguards is greeted with a well-placed shot to the chest, though his armor does a good job of mitigating the impact. Alas.

Vic gets Daryl's attention and one of his bullets chunks through the meat of her thigh, passing through cleanly. She grunts and summons her mover ability to shield herself, before she turns her rifle on one of the thugs pouring out of the other warehouse, one who seems to be leveling their weapon at Seth.

Rhys shifts position to take what cover is available by him; it's not enough to count as proper cover, but better than absolutely nothing, right? Theoretically, anyway, though really it's the armor that deserves the credit for him not already coming home with more holes than he left with. He gives a grunt at the impact, and a deeper breath when there isn't a pain to follow, or at least, when it's not worse. Bruises beat bullet holes. It throws him off a bit, though, and the next shot goes slightly off. Hits, at least, but not as solidly as he would have preferred. Luckily, teamwork makes the... guy die. No time to think of better rhymes; he turns at the sound of approaching backup and picks one, leaning out a bit farther and taking a focused moment to aim.

The bodyguards go down and Itzhak's Song billows around him in a silent roar. Armor and weapon and the thing that lives inside him with his music--the time for stealth is over and the time for going hard has arrived. And he's going hard after Daryl. "HERE, asshole!"

Cris isn't as accurate the second round, needing to adjust his aim to allow for Joey to go in for the kill without risking injury to his boss. It hits higher in the chest, and the man appears to be wearing a vest, as the round hits but doesn't puncture through to flesh. It's time to pivot and reassess.

Joey is woefully NOT intimidated by someone sticking their gun or anything else in his face. Turning only allows the guard to turn and expose a weakness in his defense. Joey grabs the gun and the guard's hand and puts his head next to it so that it fires past, and pushes up with the knife, twists, and yanks it out . The gun is taken in hand as he drops the guard to the side. The gun turns and aims at Darryl, "DuBois, you wanna call off your dogs... we're gonna have us a talk." No he's not. Not really. Not technically. "You went and fucked up the wrong town, peanut."

As the head of his target makes an impression of an overripe melon smashed with a wooden mallet, Seth drops the tip of his rifle, pivots slightly on his knee, and raises it again to take aim at Daryl, aiming low for a shot at the kneecap or ankle. Hope that Daryl doesn't miss walking. Not like he will be missing it for very long anyway.

As the Thug fires on Seth, Vic's rifle spits loudly and slams a shot into the man's gut. He clasps at his bleeding belly and falls to the ground. That's what you get for shooting at her boyfriend. Or whatever he is. THEY ARE NOT USING LABELS OK!? For her efforts, she takes another graze from Daryl's gun, before Itzhak turns his lights out. Vic sucks air through her teeth at the bullet that slams into her upper chest, but fortunately passes through without hitting anything critical.

Cris trades shots with one of the goons, no satisfaction that his bullet hits more square than the one that skims his side, tearing through the fabric of his coat and shirt and finding the spance of flesh above his hip that isn't protected by Kevlar. He feels the familiar sting, but has no time to pause and reflect on the severity of the wound as his lips peel back from his teeth and expose his teeth beneath his mask. This isn't Daryl in his sights, he doesn't have to play nice. His next aim is for the head.

That other Thug wants to run up on Joey with a gun? Well Asshole #47 meet the crazy sunnovabitch that never asks Felix 'why'. The gun comes up and it's a gamble. it's really a too close space. It's gonna suck either way but he grits his teeth. He rolls the knife over the back of his hand to reverse this grip on it, spins putting the thug's gun right to his body hoping it'll at least be a through and through, and brings the knife down into his chest with a THUD! Someone's going to need to be King Fucking Arthur to get that back out again and they can then rule over all the other fucking idiots. His head tick tick ticks towards the chemist and tells him, muffled, and out of breath, "Don't run... you got a job to do." Yeah, Joey's really that crazy and the back of his sweater is glossy where there's a fleshy exit wound.

Itzhak slams those brass knuckles into DuBois hard enough to knock him down and out. CRACK! Oooh that's gonna leave a cracked rib, or a cracked sternum, or some light internal bleeding. "That's how we do it on the Lower East Side!" he growls. Then--pop! he takes a bullet himself to the chest and he flinches, hissing in pain, Song flourishing to shield himself. And pop! pop! and Joey takes a much worse bullet to the chest and Itzhak snarls wordlessly. But he's got to secure Daryl and he sets to doing that. Motherfucker is not escaping vengeance.

It's a riskier gamble than Joey might even have realised, because that's the same guy Rhys has in his sights -- but thankfully, the accountant's paying attention, or else lucky, because either way the shot clears the boxer safely and with room to spare, hitting solidly into the thug's chest. A knife following it is surely more than anyone could have taken; the man collapses, his chest a bloody mess and every other aspect of him kind of moot. Joey gets a worried look for the state of his own being, but the guy's still up, at least -- and there's more to be handled.

As Vic's boyfriend, or whatever he is (THEY ARE NOT USING LABELS OK!?) takes aim at Daryl, the bullet from the now gut-wounded thug passes through the meat of Seth's upper chest just above the vest. Obviously, this plays a bit of havoc with the enforcer's aim as he reactively jerks the trigger, and the round that was supposed to hobble Daryl causes nothing more than a scratch along the man's chest. Seth spins on his knee, dropping the rifle, as one hand goes to press against the now bleeding exit wound, the other retrieving his sidearm and drawing it up to aim at his attacker or his attacker's friends. Whichever the sights line on first.

Vic shifts her scope from the thug she dropped, to another one who seems to be aiming his pistol at De la Vega's boyfriend. She really, really does NOT want to have to explain to Javier why his man came home full of holes. That would not go over well. She squeezes off a shot. The guy's stomach basically explodes in a burst of red. Ok, no uncomfortable convos ahead with Ruiz. Yay!

"Boss, we need to do cleanup here. I can take the bodies to the other side. We need to wipe the rest. Our DNA is all over the place. We brought bleach, but blowing the meth lab will probably be easier and more thorough," Vic points out. "Get Daryl out of here. Anyone more than scratched up go with the boss. Monaghan, Rosencrantz, you're with me. Seth, light up that lab. Itzhak, we need to make a door and toss the bodies through. We got about 7 minutes before the cops get here, if they do."

Cristobal doesn't flinch as he squeezes the trigger. Doesn't flinch as the guy takes the bullet square between to the forehead and his head snaps backwards with that vacant look in his eyes. The gas mask is simply, numbly removed from his face as the firefight around him silences but the ringing in his ears remain. Slowly, his frame shifts out of his firing stance, and he walks over to the fallen body and crouches. Gloved fingers swipe over an unseeing gaze, shuddering the goon's eyes for the last time. Oblivious to the others or what he should be doing for the time being, Cruz is saying a prayer over the body.

Joey turns on instinct as the broken toothed human sized single cell organism turns cackling at Rhys. Joey told him to stop but instead he started moving around. Leaving his knife buried in Bozo he tackles the chemist to the ground. The vial of whatever that was goes shooting off to the side instead. Safe. Holy shit. The cool part about the gas mask is you always look awesome and they can't see you wincing and swearing. He could have offered the chemist a job actually... but not with his head facing 180* the wrong direction. With a wince he pushes himself to his feet and he looks up to Vic and nods. Then the team.

"Bodies out here. Cris go get the other two from up front. Rhys, mask up, sweep the office, Darryl goes in the trunk. Vic, disposal. Seth, Itzhak? Get the plastique off the smart car we blow the office with that, then the yard with what's there. I'm giving you 5 minutes. Let's move."

'At him' is pretty much the worst place Rhys can think of for some methhead to be throwing a bottle of god-knows right now, though he wouldn't be a fan of 'at the others' either, really. He shifts away and again there's the dance of bullet and melee, his shot burying into the would-be mad bomber's abdomen just before Joey reaches the guy and takes him the rest of the way down. A pause, as things quiet, and no one further seems about to appear. "How bad's it?" he asks the boxer, though the way he eyes the wounds suggests the best he could do about any of it is likely 'apply pressure and call someone who knows what they're doing', so it's just as well they're moving on right at the moment. He nods to the plan, with another only half-mock salute. The mask is, handily, already on. "Some of the chemicals they're gonna have here will do us some favours, fuck up any DNA around and light things up like Christmas. Better living through chemistry. I'll take a look for 'em while I'm sweeping." He makes sure the mask is seated well, and heads off to the warehouses to make good on this.

Itzhak is bleeding his very own blood into his dark hoodie. He ignores it, picking up Daryl (a bloom of his Song) and getting him to the trunk, to swap out with C-4. In goes one asshole, out come presents for all the other assholes. Then he's racing across the asphalt to get 'er done, one hand clamped to his chest. His heart sure is going fast.

"I'll get the lab," Seth says as he presses his hand to the wound on his chest to keep pressure on it. He looks to be about to ask Itz a question, but the New Yorker runs off before the words leave Seth's mouth. Shrugging his shoulder and starting towards the southern warehouse he calls out, "Ok, I'll assume you have the office well in hand. Let me know when you want the lab to go because once I start that thing up it is going to make like a Rolling Stone and never stop."

"All right, lets get the bodies into the lab and blow it, that should take care of everything." Vic grabs one of the corpses by the boot and drags it to the warehouse proper. Then she goes back for others. Making it look like they screwed up and blew themselves up is nice. The bullets in them will likely put the lie to it though if anyone looks too hard.

There is no time to play step and fetch and haul. Cristobal just stands in place over the fellow with the blown out skull and closes his eyes. Concentrating. 'Tapping in' like August taught him. He remembers where the two Sentries were felled, imagines their clothes. And mentally tugs. Two more bodies appear by invisible guide wires to add to the pile for disposal in the lab.

Joey nods to Vic letting her be the relay box He's hurting. There's work to be done and he pulls up the remote for the party poppers up front to go. "Well the people in the other building are gonna wish they called in today. Ain't my fuckin problem. Rhys, get someone from medical ready for when we're inbound? Good job. Mow move your fucking asses. Seth... get ready to make a wish." And it takes care of the stolen car! a tidy day. He folds into his car and tosses Itzhak they keys. "Make the thing go. Back to to my place for the rally point." Don't take a nap...don't take a nap... so sleepy. Fuck these guys. He waits for folks to get clear and waits for Seth to call it and he pushes the button to detonate the front and... it's a beautiful sight.

Office: officially clean. Rhys snags anything in there that looks useful or interesting, because hey, never know and, for example, files are kinda his jam. Might be information they could get from them that Daryl won't be willing or able to share over tea and toast. Worth spending a little of his time on while he's in there anywhere. The appropriate chemicals are in the other warehouse, and he snags enough to doctor the areas most likely to have anything the home team particularly wants obfuscated, and handily it's not work that needs a careful hand. Not when it's about to get blown up, anyway. It's quick, and by the time everyone else is ready, he's heading to join the others, brushing off his gloves on his pants. "Already sent a text," he tells Joey with a nod, "They'll be waiting." But first... big bada boom?

"Is this a bad time to mention I never done this before?" Itzhak says, with a manic grin, jogging back bleeding, big ribcage heaving. His eyes are wild, adrenaline running like a king tide. "Be fast. I fucking mean it. Be fast. Vic, get 'em out. I'm driving." Taking a deep breath--ow that FUCKING HURTS--he grits his teeth, and lets it out in a song. On-key, as always, but shaky, quavering with breathlessness and pain. Lifting a hand, he draws it down the air, his fingertips throwing sparks as he sings.

From the dusty mesa her looming shadow grows
Hidden in the branches of the poison creosote
She twines her spines up slowly towards the boiling sun
And when I touched her skin, my fingers ran with blood...

And something happens. Reality ripples, parts, draws aside. On the other side...the Other Side. Itzhak's power used for nothing good, here, nothing sacred. It's bitter like the blood he can taste. He bolts for Joey's car. Vrooom goes the throaty engine and the tires squeal as he races off.

Seth reaching down to retrieve his rifle on the way to the breach in the Veil, Seth slings it over his good shoulder, the movement causing a wince of discomfort to the enforcer as he secures it against his chest. "Ok, everyone ready to get out of here, because this place is going to go up like Rome when Nero was fiddling around. One. Two. Three."

Do you know that saying that cool guys don't look at explosions? Well Seth must not be that cool because he walks backwards into the breach, concentrating and sending that wave of power that first started this weird trip of his all those years ago, focusing the flame on a singular point right into one of the drums where the most volatile of chemicals are stored. Maybe it still counts if he doesn't see the final explosion?