(2019-03-10) Casual Violence
Bullets, Knives, Blood — oh my.

Kate slowly pulls into the pizza place parking lot, putting the truck in park as she turns to rifle around in her purse. "Do you think two large pizzas will be enough? I don't know how much I'm going to be able to eat. I feel like I still have Thai food in me." She glances up at August, frowning. "I also totally didn't ask you what you wanted on your pizza. I'm sorry." She finally finds her wallet, buried among all the women things in there. She turns off the truck and reaches for the door handle, using a long leg to help her open the door so she can hop out.

"I'm sure it will. One for Max, one for us and Max." August grins, sliding her hands into the pockets of her coat. She glances back to Jackson in the backseat, looking delighted, as always, to be going byebye with people. "I'll eat almost anything and pick off what I don't like, except pineapple, which leaks all over everything, and is frankly disgusting on pizza." She reaches back to ruffle Jax, then glances out the window.

It's a warm, clear day and it seems like everyone and their dog is determined to get out and enjoy it. A few college students leave the pizza place just as Kate and August pull in, talking about a rugby game they're planning on catching on ESPN later.

"Worse comes to worst, I'll just order another one to be delivered." Kate mutters, watching Jackson get all happy in the back seat. She slides out of the truck, snickering as she goes to shut the door. "You're right about the pineapple on pizza. Gross. I think one of the pies is surpreme, and the other just has pepperoni on it." She pulls her purse after her and waves to a few people as she walks toward the entrance of Pietro's.

August reached for the door to push it open, then pauses. She glances down a few spaces to a car parked there. "Katie. Make it quick, ok?" Normally, she might not say something, but there's a couple of dudes in the car down there not getting out. She pushes open the truck's door and slides out herself, one hand in the pocket of her jacket. Her stilettos hit the pavement audibly, a click sharp. She grinds a little loose grit under the sole. "I'm gonna keep an eye on some questionable dudes down the way."

Kate turns to look at the car August points out, eyebrows raised. "Quick. Got it." She opens her mouth to say something to August, but shakes her head, pulling the door to the pizza place open so she can step inside. The pimply teenagers are quick to get her order, chatting about this and that as she pays for it. She picks up the boxes, debit card between her lips as she heads back out, using her back to open the doors, swinging around as not to jostle the boxes.

There is indeed a black, imported sedan parked a few spaces down from Kate's truck. Two men inside; the one in the passenger seat is on his cell phone, while the driver is watching August. He meets her gaze when she looks over, but doesn't smile. Cell phone guy is a wiry looking Asian man in his thirties, and the other one is a taller white guy with a shaved head.

August leaves the door to the truck ajar. "Floof, stay." She says this to Jackson, then takes a few steps away from the vehicle, toward the back, her gaze flicking around briefly, then back to the men. She slips both hands into her jacket pockets, her long hair down and wildly curly. Her heels signal her steps, a slow click, click, click as she takes long strides like she's just getting out to stretch her legs. Maybe she is.

The car with the college students revs up as the doors slam, and after a few moments more, it peels out of the lot, leaving Kate's truck, a few other empty parked cars. And the black sedan.

The sound of a door opening breaks the stillness of the afternoon, warm sun on asphalt and the steady drip, drip, drip of melted snow in the building's gutters. Cell phone guy climbs out of his car and slams the door. His cell phone goes back into his pocket, and something else comes out. His hand is kept at thigh level, dark eyes on August as he wanders over. "Hey. Ma'am. Do you know where I might find the Food4Less?" He doesn't look like a guy who's trying to get to the grocery store, particularly. But maybe he's out of milk.

August glances over her shoulder, looking once more time around the lot, her gaze leaving the sedan for a moment. The back of her neck is tingling, and through that's not exactly a super-rare occurrence in a woman who likes to walk the town alone, often at night, to and from truck and diner or tattoo parlor, it certainly gets her to pay attention. Particularly when neither of the men in that sedan smiles at her. Aug's nothing if not accustomed to the way men generally respond to her. That look is not it. When one of them approaches her, August takes a long step back if she needs to, to keep her body out of his reach. "Sure. It's down near the Wok and Roll." Her hands stay in her pockets.

August takes several steps back from query dude. Fuck that. "Stay right where you are."

Another car come squealing into the lot right about then. The driver kicks the brakes, skidding the tires into a long stop about ten feet from where August has backed way the hell up. Three men and a woman, and the way it's stopped pretty much boxes in anyone trying to get out. The two rear doors open and a man and woman climb out, while cell phone guy continues to advance slowly on August. He doesn't look terribly bothered by her backing up, and now it's fairly obvious that he has a syringe in his hand. It's prepped with a little tap of his thumb. "I'll keep that in mind," he tells her. "Turn around. Up against the truck. Not gonna hurt you unless you're stupid." The new arrivals? Definitely have guns.

While August is being a good citizen, giving directions to the lost, Kate has finally got her order and is making her way out of the pizza place. She's distracted and juggling a few things at once, but when she looks up, she sees August talking to one of the guys from the sedan. Her steps are unhurried, until she hears August tell someone to stay where they are. Another car shows up, people are getting out, and Kate looks confused. "August?" She calls out, she's almost to the truck now, pizzas still in her hand. "The hell is going on out here?"

Whatever it is that sets August off about the man, and there's certainly something, it has her backing further into the parking lot and away from both him and the truck. "KATE, RUN!" The hand in her jacket pocket squeezes twice. Reports sharp in the relatively quiet day. A puff of material puffs out of her pocket, a single neat hole cut into it. That dude was definitely not interested in Food4Less, and the syringe in his hand is proof enough of that.

It's about that time that August takes off herself, guns or not, without waiting to see the outcome of what she just did. Her heels are audible on the pavement, and it's a good thing she has a lot of practice in them. The others will either catch her or they'll shoot her. August isn't about go to down with whatever's in that syringe voluntarily, because there's no way it ends well.

Several things happen quite quickly, then. As Kate is stepping out of the pizza place with their lunch in hand, she'd see a wiry looking asian guy trying to hem August in against the truck, with something in his hand. Then all hell breaks loose. August fires on him, the round goes shallowly through his shoulder, and drops him back against the sedan with a bark of pain. He tries to make a last-ditch effort to lunge at August, but drops the syringe, and clutches at his shoulder. "Fuck."

Then as August begins sprinting away, the man who climbed out of the newly-arrived car fires on her with a soft pop of a silenced round. It slices through her thigh, shredding muscle and ricocheting across bone, before plugging the truck squarely in the rear gate.

The woman who climbed out of the second car trains the muzzle of her weapon on Kate as she steps out, and barks, "Get in the car, now." Cell phone guy, meanwhile, has recovered the syringe and is hastily trying to put some pressure on that shoulder wound.

Kate drops the pizza, but instead of sprinting away she runs toward August when she sees her get shot in the thigh. She doesn't get very close to her friend before there is a gun on her, and she edges toward the car indicated. She gazes at August, trying to see how injured she is, shooting a worried look toward the truck where Jackson is.

Of course, of course August just broke a narcotic painkiller habit in time to eat a round to the thigh. Of course she did. Aug's shriek of pain is high and cuts off shortly as the tattooer's gait is altered by an unfortunate projectile. She goes down hard, losing one stiletto. "No, no, no, Katie…" Her voice is thin, though the adrenaline is helping her deal with the pain right now. It'll be worse later. Her long hair spills against the lot pavement as she tries to get up. Yeah, that burns like a motherfucker. "Fuck, fuck."

From inside the truck, Jackson oofs and leaps into the front seat, about seven seconds from busting out that ajar door treat the shooters to some 85 pound English Mastiff justice. He barks several times first, unsure yet of what's going on.

"I said GET THE FUCK IN. GET IN. NOW." The redhead with the gun seems a bit amped up. Maybe she's just panicking, because this isn't going how she thought it would. Or maybe she figures if she terrifies Kate, she'll be more compliant. The door to the car is tugged open, and cell phone guy meanwhile is moving in on the downed August, and trying to sink a knee into her belly to keep her pinned. Unless she manages to fight him off, the sharp end of that syringe is getting jabbed into her arm. Jackson's plans for wreaking havoc, unfortunately, are thwarted by the other guy who climbed out of the car. He stalks over and locks, then slams the door, keeping his gun trained on August the whole time.

Kate was inching toward the car, her eyes on the redhead with the gun. "I think you have the wrong people, just go, let me call an ambulance for my friend." She turns to look at August, and when she sees the man pinning her down, brandishing a needle she changes her plans. She sprints toward August, no clue what she's going to do when she gets there. "Get off of her you asshole!" She calls out, her hand balling into a fist.

August is rolled over and ready to fight when the guy with the needle comes for her again. Now he's probably dropped it or it's dirty, and that's got August fighting him as soon as he comes for her. Her hands, now out of her pockets come up, and she makes him work for it. "Get the fuck off me!" She's clearly still trying to catch her breath, but an arm block is completely ineffectual and after a brief struggle, in which she barely even manages to smash a hand into his wounded shoulder, the syringe is jabbed into her arm.

August isn't fast enough to keep him from injecting her, the knee in her belly only a split-second distraction. The contents of the syringe don't take effect for a moment, she keeps fighting with him even after she's been injected. One of those clawed hands goes right for his eyes, though the other remains pinned across her chest. Somewhere in the mix she loses her other shoe, a long scuff up the side of it.

That redhead looks a bit trigger happy, to be perfectly honest. She really, really wants to shoot someone, and as Kate takes off at a run - in the wrong direction - she hoists her gun and takes aim. There's a muffled pop of the round leaving the chamber, but instead of clipping Kate, she merely puts another hole in her truck. At this rate, it's starting to rival Olivia's 4x4 for bullet holes.

Then just as Kate takes her swing at the guy with the syringe, the big fellow who'd gone over to shut the truck's door moves in close and backhands her with his gun. Hard. That's going to give her a raging headache once her ears stop ringing.

The wiry asian guy howls as his eyes are clawed at, but manages to get the syringe's payload in, and rolls off the taller woman to clutch at his face. Which is right about when Kate comes for him.

Kate has had very few lessons on how to punch things. Something must have stuck, because she manages to pop the guy with the syringe with her right fist, attempt to pull him off of August. She pulls back to hit him again, but before she can swing, she's hit hard with the butt of a gun that drops her. She is seeing stars right now, one of her hands clutching at the place where she was struck.

August's hands come off the Asian dude as he moves to get up, and she starts to follow, but everything goes a little sideways. She does her best to get her hand into her pocket, but her jacket's twisted under her and her limbs don't seem to be cooperating properly. She drops back to the pavement and it's not but a few more heartbeats before she really starts to go out, whatever was in that syringe doing its work. "Katie…" Softly, it's all she has time to say.

Aug's tall frame goes loose against the pavement, limbs akimbo, blood seeping from a wound in her thigh, soaking her favorite skinny jeans slowly in blood. Her silver eyes fall closed. She's still breathing, though.

Another car door opens, and the guy who's been observing a good deal of this from the passenger side of the second car that pulled up, climbs out. Dark-skinned, neatly dressed. Also with a syringe in hand. With August down for the count, he makes his way toward the temporarily stunned Kate, and primes the injector as he draws in closer. August is given a light shove of his foot into her ribs as if to confirm that she's lost consciousness, and he jerks his chin toward the redhead and the other guy. "Get her inside. I'll deal with this one." Then he attempts to roll Kate over onto her back, and jab her too in the arm with the needle.

Being hit in the face fucking hurts, but Kate registers that someone is walking toward her. She doesn't get a good look at the man when he rolls her on her back, a hand coming up to keep him from hitting her again, or whatever he's going to do. The needle sinks into her arm, and everything feels heavy and cold. There is a moment where she clumsily tries to get back to her feet, barely making it to her knees before whatever was in the syringe takes her out too.

It doesn't take long for the group to clean up and get the fuck out of dodge. August is hauled up and slung over the one guy's shoulder, and carted off to their car. Though instead of going in the back seat, he unlocks and cranks open the trunk, and tumbles her unconscious, bleeding body inside. There's a quick check of her injury done, and some very basic first aid applied, but anything more elaborate will have to wait until they get.. wherever they're going. Kate, likewise, is hoisted up by the black guy and hefted into the trunk of the black sedan. Doors are slammed, Jackson is left with his face probably pressed to the window of Kate's truck, and off they speed to parts unknown.


If you needed a description on the amount of time it takes Maxon Lentz to show up to the parking lot of Pietro's, he'd probably settle for 'Potentially Catastrophic.' There's a relatively heavy police reaction to the call of shots fired, the entire lot cordoned off, with red and blues still bouncing off of the buildings on either side of the street. He had, of course, walked there after his pizza was a no show, as well as the two women and a dog he had been expecting.

It took a little persuading, eventually settling on the most tired-looking of beat cops stuck manning the cordon as the target of his gesticulating, arguing and possibly momentary pleading to get an over-sized puppy relinquished to him, although most of the persuading came from Jackson himself, beelining for the Man as soon as someone finally summoned up the courage to open the truck door.

The 'Important' things done, Max retreated to an alleyway half a block south, Jackson in tow, and sent off a whole bunch of hasty messages on his phone as he watches things unfold, waiting for what he now considers to be the inevitable.

The rumble of a truck's engine is heard out on the street, at the mouth of the alleyway. No horn, though Max does get a ping on his phone: I'm here. Hang a left, and half a block to the east. Those cops better not be keeping an eye on you. The day's starting to dwindle into evening, and there's a bite in the air. Maybe snow later tonight.

Max is kneeling, face pressed up against the side of Jackson's head and giving the dog reassuring pats and words when his pocket vibrates. Straightening up when the message is read, the directions are followed, and Max emerges in his heavy surplus jacket, collar pulled up to his chin. He's keeping a firm grip on the lead someone had the foresight to attach to Jackson as he approaches.

There's a battered looking silver truck parked there, right where Sevin's message indicated. It needs a good wash, and probably a new engine mount given the tone of its idling. The man inside shoves the passenger side door open, and flicks his gaze from his phone to the big guy approaching with an equally big dog. His brows are furrowed, expression terse as Max presumably climbs in. "When did you expect them?" he asks, scrolling through something on his phone, then holding it out to the man once he's settled. "I'm going to need you to tell me where to go." He digs under his seat briefly, and comes up with a walther p99. A twelve-round clip is loaded in, and it too is passed across to Max.

Max, as polite as ever, watches the passenger door be opened for him and promptly ignores it to usher Jackson in first. There's a little bit of pushing needed when the dog decides that the front seat belongs to him, but he soon squeezes, kicks and muscles his way into the back, happily appropriating a leftover chew toy once Max slips himself in. Sevin is given the most cursory of glances, with Max's expression largely remaining neutral, even as the rear-view mirror is checked. "'More than thirty minutes, less than an hour an' a half." he replies as he pulls the door shut, meeting both the offered phone and pistol with… it might actually be apathy. "Uh- That's… Second left, hit the 10." is the initial direction, the pistol given a one-handed press check and a perfunctory once-over.

It's clear that this vehicle sees a lot of canine occupancy. The back seat is dusted liberally with fur; and Sevin's apparently given up on the upholstery itself, which is gnawed down to the supporting structures and coated in dog slobber. "Second left. Understood." The egyptian fellow's voice is low, and outwardly he seems calm. Not bored, not apathetic, but simply unfettered. What's going on on the inside may, of course, be another matter.

There's a slide of his gaze toward the big man's profile, then his shoulder, and a fraction lower. Like he's noting something under his coat. Then the older man turns his attention to driving. Quick shoulder check before he pulls out onto the main road, and of course he drives a stick shift. Because he's an over-controlling asshole. "The nine pound DA trigger pull and four-and-a-half pound SA is a bit odd, if you're not used to it," he notes of the lender gun, eyes on the road now. "Seatbelt on," is murmured close on the heels of that advice. Because, again, over-controlling asshole. "Any unexpected visits or people watching your house, in the last few days?"

Oh, if only the two women were still conscious. They'd get to watch Max dutifully follow orders. Which he does, by pulling on the seatbelt as soon as it's mentioned. There's a little extra length pulled out to wrap around the coat without snagging, but it's snapped home without too much trouble. "Hard to say." Is the reply to the question, Max's clicking his tongue against the side of his mouth to watch a few people on the sidewalk as they pass them by. "Pretty sure one of my neighbours is movin' into production of somethin', so there's been coming and goings. Whole place is white fuckin' noise." Which, y'know, swings and roundabouts for a guy like Max. "Second junction, looks like the foothills." The phone is waggled, and the technical comments on the weapon in his other hand are filed away for later.

The truck is old, but it has eight cylinders and can haul ass when it wants. Or, more accurately, when he makes it. And people who follow his orders tend to be entrusted with things like his second favourite gun. Which means he doesn't need to relinquish it from the man beside him. Which probably makes him happy. "Second junction." He repeats the instructions again, downshifting as they come to the intersection, then swinging onto the road that'll take them out of town. He feeds the vehicle a little more gas once the road starts to open up, and notes quietly, "I think they want us to find them. That, or they're as incompetent as the last dollar store thugs who came for Kate." His tonguetip presses against the inside of his cheek. "Either way. We should plan for it being some sort of fucking trap."

A beat, and a glance. "Have you ever killed anyone?" Hell of a question to ask.

Taking a moment to turn in his seat to check on their backseat passenger, and finding him content with a new best friend chew toy that is in the process of being destroyed, Max places his loaner firearm in the passenger door well, leaving both hands free to check the loaner phone and scratch the side of his nose. Both equally important. Sevin's quick run-down of the probable party they have waiting is met with a nod. Well, two nods. Three nods and a "Shit, I'd feel bad if they went to all that effort for nothin'. What say I go set that trap off an' you do… Whatever it is you do. I'm real distracting when I wanna be." His question? Unanswered. There's only a sniff from the recently scratched nose.

Whatever it is he does. Well, that would be teaching physics. Ostensibly. Sevin shoots another brief glance Max's way when he makes that proposal, and rolls his jaw slightly. Left to right, and left again. He barely knows the guy, and here they are drawing up plans for storming some place they haven't had an opportunity to case out in advance. It's a hell of a lot less prepared than he'd like to be, but eventually he gives a curt little nod. "All right. If you think you can pull that off. I'll cover you, then." Fairly soon, the town is left behind and they're encroaching upon more mountainous terrain. Acreages and summer homes dot the rugged hills, and the GPS signal is leading them to a spot about two miles out, up a short access road that takes them deep into the treeline. "You didn't answer my question," he notes as they pull onto the gravel with a thump and roll of the truck.

"Either I get their attention enough that you've got an easy time of it-" Max starts, placing the phone on the dash once they've nothing but an access road to traverse. "Or I get shot down and they're distracted by that an' high on an adrenaline rush. I've got nothing to pull off but me bein' me." Whether or not Max is entirely pleased by the notion is pretty hard to tell, what with the whole 'covering feelings with jokes' he's so damn fond of. "And I tell you, man. I am very good at bein' me." Any addition he has to that, though, is cut short by a quick look down to pull his phone from a pocket, remembering something, and sending off a very quick, curt message. "An' no, Sevin. I didn't. I'll pull my weight. But if you've got a choice to cover my ass or get in there and save theirs? Don't be a fuckin' dumbass, A'ight?" Accent full out, might as well be Max's game face.

Sevin kills the engine about a quarter of a mile out. Hopefully far enough that it won't be picked up by anyone who might be waiting for them. There's a little log cabin nestled in amongst the trees, in a small clearing with sparse snow cover. Footprints are visible leading toward the tiny dwelling, and there are two cars parked out in front: a black imported sedan and a smaller grey hatchback. There's some blood in the snow, too.

"I don't doubt that you'll pull your weight." The words are offered quietly, and he doesn't make any move to get up right away. Maybe he's thinking on how hard he wants to push, on the question of killing people. Eventually he seems to decide that this isn't the time. He'll presumably find out, soon enough. "I don't believe they'll kill them. And I'll do my best to keep you alive."

He unfastens his seatbelt and leans into the back briefly, sliding a rifle out from under the rear seat. It's a long-nosed gun, possibly an MRAD or something similar. He doesn't bother with a tripod, but selects an optic from a case on the floor back there, under the watchful eye of poor Jackson who has no fucking clue what's going on right now, and screws it on quickly. "I'll need a signal from you, if it's clear." Meaning, he's good to come in.

"I'll do my best to not fuck up your sight lines." Max replies, turning to watch the physics teacher unpack some seriously heavy duty lecture materials. He takes it in stride, though, giving Sevin a nod, twisting back to peer through the windshield while optics are attached, and then reaching down for the loaner walther, before having second thoughts and leaving it where it sits. "One Rifle. One in the window, think I see a third." He mutters, pointing out the first with a finger before moving to slowly open the door, considering a couple of options. "You gimme two minutes. Imma see if I can't use those trees. If he spots me, I'll bluff best I can and make a whole lotta noise. If the fucker looks twitchy, you go with your gut." That's.. that's as far as the plan goes, apparently, Max dropping from the truck with a nod, hanging out behind the door until he's sure Sevin's set.

Sevin looks over at Max when he seems about to leave the gun behind. And his brows knit slightly. "What the fuck are you doing? You can't go in there unarmed." Unless he's got a mighty interesting plan he isn't sharing. The rifle is held under one arm, hand around the stock, muzzle pointed at the ground as he cranks his door open. "Take the fucking gun." His gaze turns toward the house when the shooters are identified, and he notes their positions with an agitated breath blown out his nose. "Two minutes. I still think you should take the goddamned gun." Then he swings out of the truck and hikes around to the tailgate, where he's going to set up shop. If Jackson makes any noise and gives away his position.. well, he'll burn that bridge when he gets to it.

Inside the house are four people. One outside, as Max noted, guarding the perimeter. One is in the bedroom in the back, keeping an eye on the women and checking his twitter feed on his phone, while the other three are in the living room arguing about payout. All five have guns. The sixth has gone to take a leak in the trees, since the cabin lacks a functioning septic system.

Jackson, oh Jackson. Max would blow you a kiss, but you might get excited and barky. Sevin? Sevin does not get blown a kiss either, despite the probable lack of barking. He does get a little quirk of the mouth as Max narrows his eyes. "Who… Who said I was unarmed?" A hand pats his hip, forever covered by the slightly-tighter-looking baggy coat, and the man gives a wink that could quite possibly be his last as he heads into the treeline, following a perpendicular path from the truck to avoid approaching the perimeter guard's eyeline as best he can, moving from tree to tree and ducking low the second a wayward pee-breaker comes into view.

Max's decidedly unstealthy approach goes miraculously unnoticed by the guy hunkered down in the treeline with the rifle. He's not looking in the big guy's direction, which is unfortunate for him but possibly to Max's advantage; considering that the guy coming back from taking a leak has spotted him, and stops cold when he realises he's been caught with his pants down. Well, not literally. But notably, without a weapon. So he does what any self-respecting idiot would do, and takes off at a run for the house. "Hey! Hey Frankie, we've got company!" The shout goes up, and Max has a moment to react before 'Frankie' or anyone inside the house does.

Katherine wakes up, but for a moment everything is confusion and pain. She tries to sit up, only to find her ankles and wrists tied tightly bound. The drugs have made memory a little fuzzy but then things suddenly come back slowly. "August!" She pulls at her bindings, hissing in pain before she spots August on the chair. She looks as if she might want to scoot in that direction before she spots their babysitter. "Don't suppose you can loosen these ropes, they're biting into my wrists." She tries her best to sound harmless, aiming a pained look in his direction. "Please." It's always nice to be polite.

August is tied up and tipped into a chair, her long hair dragging almost to the floor from where she's slumped slightly to the side in the round backed, horribly upholstered monstrosity. She seems to have been relieved of her pants, so it's a good thing she elected to wear lingerie today. Her left thigh is bandaged fairly high up. Auggie doesn't move. Maybe she's got slower metabolism than Katherine.

Outside, Jackson is a quiet dog most of the time, except when he sees his people in obvious distress. He lays in the back, making short work of someone else's chew toys. He's a hard chewer.

'Oh dear. Well, this is why I don't do in-depth plans.' would be the main thought that runs through Max's head when he, so focused on trying not to tread on anything that would make a noise, walks into a tree and treads on something that would make a noise. The result causes a sound not unlike that of a 200lb man trampling through a forest. Unfortunately, Max's brain is currently slowly slipping under a soft haze of rage at the fact he fucked up so early on in what was a very, very basic plan, so what comes out of his mouth is instead a grunted "MotherFUCK." before he's bursting out of the trees at a sprint to run Call-Of-Nature Thug to the floor

The guy who's supposedly on guard duty looks a bit put out at having his catchup time on social media interrupted by one of those pesky girls. At least it isn't the troublesome one with all the tattoos. They may recognise him as the lanky little asian guy who spent the better part of ten minutes trying to jab August with a needle. He scowls a moment, then puts his phone down and moves over to check the rope securing the brunette. A little tug here and there, a tiny bit loosened though she'd still have to work to get out of it. "Don't try anything," he mutters at her. He sends a glance Aug's way, then goes back to flop in his chair with his phone.

Outside, the unarmed guy is off at a dead run, boots crunching the snow, yell after yell going up as he bolts for the house- and is slammed into the ground by a two hundred pound man hard enough to send them both briefly tumbling. It knocks the wind out of him, and Max will have a moment to react before he starts struggling and trying to choke the big guy out.

'Frankie', by now, has figured out what's going on, and cocks his gun before taking a shot at Max. It clips him across the arm, but it's a flesh wound and likely won't slow him down much. Sevin? Who the hell knows what he's doing. But probably still lining up his shot, like the meticulous person he is.

Katherine rolls her eyes when the Asian man tells her not to try anything. She wonders what he'd do if he was tied up, surely he'd try something. She tries to ease her wrists out of the rope, being as nonchalant as possible. Her eyes are on August as she does this, silently willing the pale woman to wake up. She shifts around a bit, trying not to draw attention to herself, especially when the rope starts to cut into her wrist for real. She turns her head as she hears some commotion, and then the loud report of a gun being fired, but it's not clear what is going on. She eyes the twitter nerd, wondering if he'll go check on that.

At the sound of the gunshot, August's eyes open a sliver. She surveys the room for a moment, shoulders tensing when no one's looking right at her. She closes her eyes nearly all the way, long lashes still. When Twitter Guy turns his back to look after the gunshot, Auggie slips an hand free of bonds she's been loosening slowly for at least ten minutes. Her long-nailed fingers skim tattooed flesh before she dips into her bra, slips something out, and tucks her arm behind herself again. She's good at that at the very least, and must have been awake for some time. She doesn't so much as fumble, or twitch, once she's settled again. A moment later, August groans.

Meanwhile, in the great outdoors, Max finds himself rolling off of his back and slamming his hands to the floor. He came out on top of the bear-like tackle that found the unfortunate unarmed thug going all a-sprawl alongside him, and uses the brief moment of advantage to try and get a hold, giving a solid go of dropping his shin across the man's throat and pulling him closer with angry, angry grasping hands on the back of the head. That might be why Frankie's shot only clips his arm. Frankie's shot is for sure why there's an angry bellow from Max, though. Ah, Adrenaline. What can't it do?

The sounds of angry scuffling and grunting issue from the ground in front of the cabin, where Max is attempting to crush a guy's throat. He, on the other hand, is trying to return the favour. Though with significantly less leverage. Max, suffice to say, is winning.

Frankie, realising his shot hasn't achieved the desired result of dropping his target, hoists his rifle and tries again. This time, he has to spend a moment tracking Max as the two become entangled, and it delays his shot.

The twitter nerd is completely oblivious to August trying to slip her bonds, though looks up briefly at the sound of gunfire. He slips his phone away again, draws his gun from the waistband of his pants, and steps closer to the door to check the hall. The three guys in the living room are moving for the front door, and one of them busts it open just as Max succeeds in shoving the poor guy's windpipe through the back of his neck. From the direction of the parked truck, a thundering shot cracks the air. And Frankie drops like a rock, suddenly missing a good deal of his head. Just as well, as he was about to pull the trigger on Max's immobile form.

Kate isn't making much headway with her bonds, in fact, she's made it worse. She's rubbed one wrist raw, and it's bleeding a little bit, and while that's a downside it also provides a little more slickness to ease her hand out of the rope. We'll see if she can manage it. She scoots along the bed now that the twitter nerd is distracted, the worried look on her face clearing a bit when August groans. "August? Are you okay?" Before she can lean in to check - though her hands are still bound so there isn't much she can do, another loud shot is fired, startling her enough to almost tip her off the bed.

August opens her eyes enough to glance toward the doorway, and Twitter nerd peering through it. She nods to Kate, "I'll live," she says very softly. Probably. She's wearing her usual makeup—so it's hard to tell if she's pale or not. Her lips are stained black by matte cosmetics. She looks okay, though she's likely in some considerable pain. "Are you okay?"

It actually takes the addition of a booted foot to the back of his calf for extra leverage, as well as some very, very angry grunts of exertion to get Max the sensation he was working towards. That being the feeling of a throat somewhat crumpling against the pressure of his shin. There's no time for satisfaction, though, as that front door is busted open, and Max is far too close to that for his liking. This would normally be the moment where he considers options, but… Y'know. Red Mist and all. There might be a little throat blood on his jacket. The second he's thrown the soon-to-probably-be-a-body aside, he's scrambling for that busted open door. To slam it back shut again and keep on runnin' around the building.

Twitter nerd looks a little uncertain as to whether he should stay put, or go help out with whoever's being shot at. He elects to stay where he is, gun lofted, and a brief swivel toward August when he hears her speak. The muzzle is jerked at her head. "Sounds like your boyfriend decided to show up after all." Then he points the gun at Kate, and takes a step closer. "The fuck do you think you're doing?" He reaches for her bound arm and attempts to haul her to her feet roughly. Which might just cause her to topple to the floor, depending on how steady her legs are.

Two dead bodies outside, and three goons trying to get out to even up the score. One of them makes it through before Max manages to shove the door shut, and takes aim at him as he darts off into the treeline. Another crack of a high-powered rifle shot displacing the chill air, and he goes down too with a round that tears through his temple and keeps right on going, lodging itself in the wall of the cabin. The other two won't be thwarted for long. But maybe long enough for Max to make himself scarce.

Kate opens her mouth to respond to August, but before she can actually answer the tattooed woman, she's hauled to her feet. She lets out a pained yelp, twisting to try to get away from twitter nerd, which only jerks her shoulder worse. She stops fighting lets her legs crumple beneath her, hoping to at least drag the asshole with her toward the ground. That's when another shot rings out, the nerd's words registering before she glances down at her locket.

Thanks to Kate's impression of a dead weight, and Twitter guy's reluctance to drop her, he's indeed pulled closer to the floor by her gambit, and that brings him within range of August's tender mercies. These include include two moves as she lunges forward in her seat. One: Auggie's left hand sweeps out to wrap around his gun, which she shoves wide of both herself and Katherine. She doesn't let go even after: Two: In an upsweep with an open blade, she slashes across his throat at an upward angle, blade biting into his flesh. August isn't likely to let go of the gun if she has any say in the matter, though TwitterGuy does begin to bleed shortly. He's gonna need to see a doctor about that. She seems upset about the syringe still. A bit.

Max absolutely makes himself scarce as soon as that door shuts, carrying on around the building at a run, and going so far as to place a little distance between the exterior wall and himself. Oh, wait, no. He was placing some distance between the bedroom window and himself. Just in case TwitterGuy wasn't having a bad-enough minute, it's only added to by the mass of man that slams through tempered glass with a shoulder, covering his face with his arms but still catching a few of the tiny pebbles to the hand and side of his head. The yell that comes from him might, MIGHT be "DROP IT." It's hard to tell, it's mostly throat gravel and rage at this point.

Twitter nerd goes down like a sorority girl, his gun skittering out of his grip and Kate somewhere underneath him. Growling, he tries to shove his elbow in Aug's face when she comes at him with her knife, and manages to clip her pretty good across the cheek. Then he attempts to roll on top of her and pin her to the floor, but he's suddenly got a knife in his neck. He gurgles and lets out a panicked scream, clutching at his throat and probably spraying blood all over Aug and Kate in the process. Then the window is shattered by the force of Max hurling himself through it, and he tries to turn his head away from the onslaught of glass that sprays the room with a cacophony of sound. Terrified, he lies on the floor in a shuddering, bleeding heap, not daring to move a muscle when Max makes his entrance with that booming shout.

Outside, the two remaining guys from inside the house have busted their way out. One of them takes a round through the thigh from Sevin's rifle, and drops back against the wall of the cabin with a roar of pain. The other guy seems to realise what's going on, and dives back inside with his gun poised to fire.

Kate had no clue that August was unbound, she's a great actress. When August launches herself from her seat, she startles Kate who has no clue what to do for a few moments. Once she realizes what's going on she is attempting to help keep the man unbalanced, right up until blood sprays in her face — and mouth (ew) — which automatically makes her retch. She gets knocked back on her ass and then the window explodes, glass flying in the room slicing a cut across her forehead and one of her arms. Another shot is fired, but the chaos in the room seems somewhat contained, so after a few moments of silence, "Can someone get these ropes off?" She shudders again as she tries to keep the earlier muffin in her stomach.

August falls the rest of the way out of her chair when she catches a spray of blood, turning her head away and pressing her lips closed. She's well trained in all the nasty things blood carries, as it's part of her job. She's not a wimp about it, but she's not down with drinking the blood of her enemies, no matter how much they've pissed her off.

The wall of Max smashing through the window has Augs jerking back to try to move, unfortunately lifting both legs in a full-body wince. That, however, hurts like a motherfucker so she sucks in a harsh breath and immediately stops moving, glittery glass falling all around them, perhaps not quite reaching her where she's landed. She breathes hard, trying to get her heart rate under control. Mhm, good luck with that, August. She clutches her knife in her hand still, having lost control of the gun somewhere in the chaos. She can't get up to fetch it. Her ragged breathing is loud in the aftermath of all that sound.

It's a quick scan that Max does of the situation, his breathing heavy with slight exhaustion as he watches Twitter nerd severely regret every choice that led up to this point in his life. The two women are given a split second appraisal: Prone, under a bleeding out guy, but alive, and having just stabbed a bleeding out guy. Excellent. I mean, his face suggests fire and death could befall them both at any time, but he's in a different mindset right now, don't you worry about that. They're not even given a second look before his heavy boots stomp out into the hallway, glass crunching underfoot, having heard another gunshot and knowing that the mathematics don't add up to a 'cleared' house just yet.

Which, y'know, has him walking right into view of the one remaining unwounded guy, their gun ready.

Its usefulness limited, what with most of their quarry either downed or retreating inside the house, Sevin unloads his rifle with quick, practiced hands and shoves it into the bed of his truck. Jackson is probably barking up a storm by now, but it doesn't seem to shake his focus as he withdraws his trusty old sig saeur from the front seat and racks the slide. And starts ambling on over with a look on his face like this just won't end well. Poor shot-in-the-leg has dropped to the floor of the porch by the time the egyptian reaches him, panting and clutching the wound in his leg. And is casually shot in the face at nearly point blank range. Brain matter sprays the wall of the cabin as his body slumps over, and then Sevin begins shouldering his way inside.

Meanwhile, the asian guy is about two minutes from bleeding out on the floor of a shitty cabin in the middle of bumfuck, Colorado. And it's a good bet he is regretting a good deal of what landed him here. "Please," he begs in a scratchy, gurgly voice, as Max steps out into the hall.. and face to face with a tall black guy with a gun, who suddenly doesn't quite seem to know what to do with it. "Are you Malone?" His hand shakes slightly around the weapon's grip, his shoulders jumping as he hears another shot from outside.

Kate isn't going to struggle to get up or get free, she's pretty much accepted her fate at this point. She can hear what is going on in the other room, and is briefly confused at why Malone is being brought up, her brow furrowed slightly. Her gaze shifts toward August, and then her eyes close, a small victory achieved for now when she doesn't vomit.

Finally, August catches her breath enough to say, "Katie, if you can help me sit up, I can free your hands." Her voice is strained, a bit reedy. The tattooer seems to be having some trouble dealing with the pain of falling out of the chair onto a shot thigh, despite some kind of medical intervention courtesy of their kidnappers. Apparently she also heard what the dude on the floor rasped out, because she's turning to look at him. "Goddamn it. What did you say?"

Max's hands are immediately up in the universal gesture of 'I'm unarmed', hovering around shoulder height as a shaky gun is pointed in his direction. The pop of a gunshot actually has less of a reaction than the words that leave the last-man-standing's lips. It's a slowly dawning expression of realization, his hands dropping ever so slightly, adrenaline bleeding out of his system as he takes a hefty, heft sigh. "Motherfucker. Put that thing down before you hurt yourself. Or my friend behind you hurts you." Yes, it's the slowly dawning realization that this guy is probably a hired goon that doesn't know a damn thing.

"…please," repeats the guy on the floor lying in a rapidly spreading puddle of his own blood. "P.. pl.." His breathing tapers off to a reedy whistle, and the word never makes it out of his throat. August is treated to a pair of dark eyes fixed lifelessly on her, until someone thinks to cover them up or throw something over him. Jackson is still going nuts in the truck, and the guy in the hall surely realises he's fucked now. Particularly as the front door is shoved open, and Sevin's rangy frame slips through with a handgun cradled in both hands, muzzle aimed at the back of his head. He seems content to let Max do the talking. He's just the backup, after all.

"You're not Malone." That's what dawns on the goon after Max has finished speaking. He doesn't dare look over his shoulder; he probably has a very good idea of what's waiting behind him. Swallowing, he murmurs, "I've got a message for him, though." His big, dark eyes look nervous. He swallows again.

Come to think of it. The living room has a strange smell to it. Almost like those two kerosene tanks sitting in the hall by the bedroom door are empty, and their contents were used to liberally douse the floor.

Kate tries to ease up so she can help August, but there isn't much she can do while her hands are bound. She scoots toward the tattooed woman, ignoring the glass and blood on the floor. "Tell me what to do." She says, turning her head toward August. She is pointedly keeping her gaze away from the dead man, who just begged for his life. "I think these guys were after you." She says very quietly, eyes shifting toward the living room.

"… Right." Aug's clearly not the top of her game right now. "Can you scoot closer?" She rolls over, then reaches up for the side of her chair to pull herself up slowly, then reaches over to grab on to Kate to keep herself upright. "Sorry, sorry… my leg is fucking killing me." She reaches over to try to take hold of Kate's bonds if she can turn enough. "I don't even know what the fuck…" She takes a breath to steady herself before she moves to saw through the bonds. Her knife's very sharp and she's very careful with it. "Katie, I don't feel so good. We need to get out of here, but I don't think I can walk."

Max notices the shift in attitude and intent from the man with the gun, the swallowing, the murmuring. His own hands don't even move. "Buddy, you really don't." God, he's aware of the voices in the next room, so acutely aware. "I've been right where you're standing, a job that went wrong from square-fuckin'-one, not worth the pay, and you know it's goin' sideways from the start. You think what? Doin' somethin' to those two'll send a message to Malone? Only fuckin' thing it'll tell him is he needs somethin' else to occupy his time with." Keep him talking, keep him distracted, too little information on his plan, let Sevin move. Thoughts, all thoughts that flick across Max's mind. "You got screwed, kid, but there's an open door right there."

He really did get screwed. It's in his eyes, the knowledge that he's in way over his head. That this was a dead man's mission from the start, and that they were never meant to win this fight. Light it on fire. Send a message. The guy starts to reach for his pants pocket, gun still trained on Max. And Sevin makes a decision. Discharge his gun and risk a stray spark that feeds on the kerosene and starts a raging blaze. However minute the chance. Or give the guy the chance to whip out his lighter, if that is indeed what he's going for, and make damned sure they've got a mess to contend with.

He squeezes the trigger the second he spots movement, and the round goes through the guy's throat and lodges there. Luckily. No sparks, no fire. Just a whole lot of dead bodies. And one mortally wounded guy who collapses to the floor, gurgling and suffocating on his own blood. He's not dead yet, but give him a couple of minutes.

August makes short work of the bindings on Kate, then pulls them free. She flicks her knife closed and reaches up to tuck it back under her sweater. It's a modest blade, barely an inch, but an inch is enough in some cases. Some cases. The tattooer grabs hold of the chair, then tries to pull herself up from the floor with her good leg and her arms. She's shaking the whole time, but she just barely manages to do it. She drops heavily onto the chair, glances at the doorway, the window, and then looks down to Kate. "Can you walk? You should get out of here."

Kate manages to get to her feet now that her arms are untied, rubbing her shoulder as she kneels near August. "I'm not going anywhere, let me look at your leg." Whatever makeshift bandage was wrapped there has long since fallen off. She turns to tear some strips out one of the sheets. "We need to get you to the hospital." She mutters, not sure how to begin to deal with a gunshot wound. "Hey!" She calls out toward the living room, the shooting and yelling has stopped, at least. "August needs help, we have to get her to a doctor."

Right as the man in front of him moves, Max's hand instinctively raises to block his face with a forearm. It's almost like he knew what was coming, and most of the exit wound spray is blocked from landing across his face. Sevin doesn't need the snap of his fingers and pointing to the door to the bedroom, at all, but Max does it anyway before giving the collapsed body a perfunctory kick to both arms, spreading them away from the torso and turning on his heels to drop back in to the bedroom, stepping clear of the doorway with a "-Oh, she needs lots of things. Ladies." Ah, adrenaline bleed off. Enjoy Max at his dumbest.

Sevin gives Max a bit of a funny look for the snapped fingers, but steps around the twitching body on the floor and follows along dutifully. His gun is still held in both hands, muzzle swung toward the guy who bled out on the floor as he sidesteps around the sizeable puddle of blood. Then his pale gaze shifts to August for a beat. Then Kate. Cool, quiet, assessing. Once he's sure the asian guy isn't getting back up, he shoves his weapon into its holster at his ribs and moves toward the grey-haired girl. "Can you walk?" A glance at her leg, and he hitches his chin to Max. "I've got a first aid kit in the truck. Think you can go grab it while I get her out there?" Then his eyes cut back to Kate, and he double-checks that she doesn't have any obvious injuries that would prevent her from being ambulatory.

August shakes her head, trying to get the trembling under control. She seems to be having a bit of trouble dealing with this level of pain, which is saying something considering the other things she's been through in this body in the last two years. Aug winces as Kate checks her leg, which has probably started oozing again. "Hospital would be great, thanks." She tips back in the chair and does her level best not to vomit. The room's cold as hell right now, and she's in (very fancy lace) panties and a fluffy sweater. They dumped her jeans and her belt somewhere when they were doing unconscious first aid.

"No." No to the can you walk question from Sevin. "So it'd be really fucking great if we could fuck off out of here fireman style." Actually, it's going to really fucking hurt, but no pain, no morphine. Or whatever.

Kate stands up straight, bruised and bloodied, but most of that blood isn't hers. "Let's just get out of here, how can we tell if there aren't more of them somewhere. Where is the woman who was waving a gun around?" She leans to look out the window, frowning. "Someone should call Anthony, and I'd really like to vote that the someone isn't me." She wipes the back of her hand against her face, wincing when it comes back bloody. "Christ."

Max, having given the two others a once-over, nods to the two in greeting that is, fairly, missed given the whole situation. He's actually giving August a double-look when Sevin steps in, stepping back and out of the way to just nod once again at the mention of a first aid kid. "You got it. Be quick about it." Like they need telling twice. With those words, he's out of the door, actually going to do what he said. There's a small pause as he gives another little prod with his boots to slightly-moved hands in the hallway, but that's just for his own sense of safety on the way.

Sevin might just be reconsidering this plan to haul August out of here over his shoulder. Max is the more logical option, though the egyptian has certainly shouldered his weight in gear while in the military, and is likely no stranger to it. He doesn't even make any cracks about August's bitching as he bends and slings an arm around her, and attempts to hoist her up and over his shoulder. No cracks about cutting down on the tacos, either. Nope. Though he's probably thinking it. "Max will get you fixed up. Just try to relax, and tell me if the pain gets worse." A beat. "And keep talking." Kate's arm is touched on his way by, a grunt as he struggles a little initially to balance Aug's weight across his shoulder. "We can worry about that later. Come on." And out he goes. What the fuck was he thinking, not making Max do this.

August is jostled good when Sevin slings her over his shoulder, her long limbs probably throwing off his balance a bit. She winces at the shoulder to her belly, having pretty much forgotten about the knee she took earlier until just now. Her long hair is tangled and dirty, from dragging on the ground in the lot and then getting sprayed with blood earlier, not to mention whatever was on the cabin floor. "Move your ass, Sevin. Stop fucking around." She just manages to say that, though it's more a hoarse whisper than anything else. "If I keep talking, I might throw up." Oh god the bouncing steps. The shoulder to her stomach.

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