Abel has reached his destination.

After touching down on the cracked and time-worn tarmac, he now stands in front of a warehouse. Its location is on the outskirts of Toon Town, miles away from the bustling noises and lingering, curious eyes that the city produces. Coupled with the last ounces of light upon the western horizon, it still gives the area a haunted appearance. The sources of light coming from the telephone pole and lit window didn't help the image much.

Abel's long since been used to the scenery, but he doesn't know whether the shiver that flitters through his body came from within or the wind brushing by him.

Much of Mother Nature's foliage has taken over the decrepit, wooden exterior, attempting to claim the building as her garden ornament.

Coiling tendrils lace through the wounded cracks and open spaces, crawling over the weathered planks as they try to infiltrate the interior. The overhanging trees form a copse around the building's perimeter. Several of their limbs scratch their tips across the metal shingles, creating an irritating noise whenever the wind picks up. Tallgrass and weeds blanket much of the ground where birds gather to search for insects, the others singing their melodies from the branches.

Over the years of its deterioration, the once company-owned building became a dumping ground. Having witnessed a couple of incidents involving some murders and a drug bust, it was practically falling apart at the seams when Benicio discovered it.

To shorten the exposition, when the ragtag mafia group was still establishing itself. They've worked on refurbishing some interior designated sections of the structure. Of course, Benicio had also called in a small construction team to both assist the group and to hurry the project along. Once that main objective was completed, the outside remained with little to no differences; however, the inside had gotten completely renovated.

The first toon Abel sees upon arrival is a fox, wearing only blue jeans with yellow patches sewn at the kneecaps. He's leaning against the building with both hands stuffed in the pockets. Usually bare-chested, unless it involves a special occasion, Abel's gotten used to seeing him with his white-furred chest on full display. As far as the rebel angel knows, the toon's the only guard who stands next to the entrance. He keeps a watchful eye towards anything or anyone having suspicious motives.

On rare occasions - or, to him, they're occasional - Abel would see Jack conversing with him. Today must've not been one of them.

For some reason, the fox toon kinda reminds him of a cat in that one short he's seen once, where a suicidal bird was wanting to be eaten by the feline but kept getting declined throughout the short… He mentally shakes the thought out. What a weird comparison.

Abel approaches him after taking several steps away from the path, raising a hand in greeting. "Hey, Fonzy."

The other toon nods back, a small smile etched on his face. "Nice to see you again, Abel. Still know the password?"

"Uh... It's Jokes this time, right?"

"Correct." The fox's smile turns into a genuine one. His white-tipped black tail waves behind him.

The angel does an eye-roll at the result, expressing impassiveness on his face. "Figures… He's gonna change it again, the next time I come back here."

Fonzy huffs in his quiet chuckling, half-heartedly shrugging at the rhetorical statement. "Afraid so. It is needed." His right-hand comes out of the pocket to shoot a thumb over his shoulder, pointing it towards the door. "Go ahead; the boss has been expecting you for a while. He's in his office right now."

"Thanks." Giving away a small smile, the angel opens the door and steps in. Before he fully enters, though, Abel leans back to point a finger at the fox. "Oh, 'n if ye see Jack, tell him that he still owes me 20 bucks when we did that poker night half a month ago." The cartoon angel doesn't see the other's nod after the door closes.

He makes his way inside, finding himself strolling through a long hallway. The walls were a juxtapose of bottom pinewood paneling and top gray drywall. They are parted by a similar wooden border strip.

Abel passes two entryways, the left having a nameplate labeled while the right has Garage. The first leads to the henchmen's conjoined living room and sleeping quarters; it also comes with a complimentary bathroom at its end. Besides himself, Elymas, Alice, and Boris, most of them make their residence here on the Ground Floor, almost in a free-of-charge state. In return for their services, they help out with whatever is needed to be done, whether assisting in large heists or doing simple chores with the Janitor. Within the other - the entrance now distant from the angel - is where Benicio's vehicle is housed and a set of steps going up to the First Floor.

We'll get to know about that floor later on.

Walking past his right are three similar doors, each nameplate sporting a different title.

The second entryway being passed next goes to the Restroom, where some things are seldomly better left unsaid. The only detail he could hint about the space is: It holds some hilarious and embarrassing moments within its walls.

The third to drift by him belongs to the Conference Room, where Benicio's family and other mafia family members discuss business matters, debrief each other on particular objectives, and other such important contents. Solo and multi-member missions are also carried in and out here, along with consultations being made before getting approved with the boss's consent. The one leading it has to go through the boss first, of course, unless he's included in the operation. Conjoint missions go through both boss' approvals if the selected families are dealing with the same objective and/or persons in their cases.

An example referring to the representatives in Jonathan's mafia family. They, and sometimes even Jonathan himself, come in for a few months at a time on various days since both families tend to work together if they come across each other's paths.

The last entryway being passed by before making to the end goes to the Waiting Room that then leads into the minute Infirmary. Although he hasn't met them yet, other than occasionally hearing their names, a doctor going by the name of Luna and her assistant nurse practitioner, Deeralyn, operate there. Although Luna, from what he has been told by Benicio, is not authentically full-fledged, mind you, but she is coming close enough to become one. Deeralyn, on the other hand, is a genuine, certified Nurse. They're currently the only duo in the group that has extensive knowledge in the medical field so far.

Fortunately, Abel has never needed to see them in order to receive their treatments. After getting injuries from a mission, he would simply travel to the town's hospital. It's not because he doesn't trust the two and their authenticity; he's just used to going to Toon Town's medical facility since his escape from the studio, is all. Of course, working alongside them in at least two or more heists would allow him to evaluate the two better than just coming to Headquarters while they're not in the same place.

Years ago, back when it was an extra storage area and him going through the beginnings of working with the configuring mafia group, Benicio didn't have any medical staff on-hand to treat the group of their injuries. A henchman or two knew how to sew ink-solidified skin back together - Benicio included. Another has some knowledge on how to take a bullet out and dress a wound in gauze. In conclusion, other than the three, the group wouldn't get any further than the basics if their wounds get too serious for them to handle alone.

One of the demon's reasons for finding someone or more to fit the bill was: 'If word gets out to the other mafias that one of us winds up in the city's hospital, especially towards those that'll use it as a bargaining chip or blackmail, it'd be trouble. We can't let any important info leaks trace back to us, no matter what!'

After hearing that, Abel believed the demon boss to be somewhat paranoid, considering that he's been going to the hospital for years and hadn't had anything like his personal information getting out into the public. He went along with the demon's paranoia way of thinking anyway, just to get the mini-ramble over with and to get back to doing whatever it was that he was doing during the time.

Thinking back for a bit, how ironic that turned out to be. Around a month after the seemingly prophetic dialogue was said, a small team of robbers was apprehended by the police force. They were trying to steal and release an en mass of personal patient information from the aforementioned hospital. However, he couldn't remember the finer details of the situation; just those pieces that he'd managed to retain from the newspapers. Luckily, what wasn't included in the whole mess is his documentations; those being in the small percentage that was left unscathed.

A small strip of the next month had gone by when renovating the room during the robbery incident. While the rebuild was happening, Benicio went searching in and out of the New York state for anyone regarding the title of Doctor and/or Practitioner. Days trickled by slowly after the completion until the mob boss had come back to enthusiastically tell the group that he'd finally managed to recruit a couple of new medical personnel.

Sighing out of disapproval, the angel stops in front of the last entry while simultaneously snapping out of his thoughts upon hearing a familiar voice spouting out yells and curses. With an eyebrow raised in inclination, he begins to wonder about what's getting the demon this riled up in the early part of nightfall. Probably griping on someone through the phone about something or someone again.

'Maybe his yellin' will finally awaken those that are asleep...' He mentally quips in sarcasm.

Sometimes, the angel would catch snippets of various conversations through the door before walking into the office - the things about what needs to be done and what not to be done being the most discussed matter. At one point, he nearly got hit in the face by the device thanks to Benicio's temper. The other even had to get a replacement telephone, having completely busted the previous one against the wall via throwing it, and had to wait until the new one was delivered on their doorstep.

Seeing that the skewed plaque strip entitled Boss's Office at the top hadn't been corrected yet, he goes to rap his knuckles against the wood when it gets paused by Benicio's irritated voice. "Bub, do ya have earwax in that head of yours?! Say somethin' that I don't already know!" A pause from the mob boss comes next.

The rebel hears the poor toon on the other end loudly rapid-firing a, rather disappointing, excusable explanation. It's no use in weaseling yourself out on Benicio.

"Hey, hey, hey! Quit speakin' for- Ju-Just shut the hell up for a second, will ya?!" The voice shuts up immediately. The angel can imagine a jeering frown and narrowed eyes taking place on the other's features. "Yeesh. For a penguin, ya talk too much… Or, squawk, I should say."

Lowering his hand, Abel silently chuckles, crossing his arms while waiting for his turn.

"Now then… Where was I goin' with this?" A moment passes before the boss speaks again. Dramatic much? "Oh, yeah... Are ya fuckin' kiddin' me?!" And there's the blow-up... "Hell no! It's not worth cuttin' my tail off on that damn deal!"

The angel's brows knit themselves. Cutting his tail off? What? What does he mean by that? A few shakes to the head scatters the thought apart and he lets his imaginative left ear get close to the wood.

More prattling comes through the telephone before it gets silenced by the toon boss again. "Look, if ya gonna continue spoutin' malarky an' bein' an idiot, then ya can forget the shipment agreement! Tell that head honcho of ya's that I'll be lookin' somewhere else for it!"

A loud clack and ring can be heard next, followed by low grumbling and a sprinkle of continued curses. Abel can imagine the other shaking his head and being done with talking to idiots for the day, adopting an irritated expression. He makes out several insults and something about the demon planning on getting himself a new target to practice on. An eye-roll is delivered before the angel gives a few loud raps to the office door, dispelling the demon's voice to a quiet, inquired hum.

"Oh! U-Uh, I'll be right with ya! Just a sec!" There's rustling coming through, flapping bouncing about, and a couple of squeals that lead to metallic bangs came along with the entourage of noises. Abel questions further about the happenings inside the room. Scuffling from shoes rush towards the entrance and the doorway swings inwardly to reveal the demon himself.

Both of them wear shocked expressions for a moment before recognition settles into Benicio's, the head of the mob's breaths coming and going in nearly undetectable pants. "Ah, Angel Face! Just in time!" A grin widens on his face while his hands splayed out in a welcoming gesture, excitement bubbling through the surface of his being. He beckons him in. "Come in! Come in! We gotta get down to business before daylight breaks out on us!"

Before he expects it, Abel's right wrist gets nabbed and then tugged on, sending him into the office with a 'Wah!' accompanying the transition. The doorway slams shut once the angel's through and he wobbles a little on his feet before correcting his posture.

The detail that his eyes initially take in is the darkness shrouding within the room's proximity, which began to weird him out. The last time the rebel was in here - by his speculations, it could've been during a heist that took weeks ago, this was well-lit by fluorescent lights. Not even the moonlight coming from the two windows can get rid of its lingering presence, their curtains and shutter blinds having been drawn apart, by the looks of it.

How does Benicio stand staying in this sort of environment? ... On second thought, he doesn't want to voice this question aloud just yet, deciding that it'll be saved for another time.

Where he stands now is in-between two armchairs for when clients come in, his front blocked by Benicio's oak desk. The angel watches as the demon boss rounds the left side of the furniture and takes his seat in his leather swivel chair. The object shouts out a clacking note. He retakes the lit cigarette from its ashtray and draws in smoke, looking like a chimney when the haze slithers through his teeth after being taken in.

Abel takes a glimpse at what's on the surface of the desk, seeing the furnishing in its usually littered, methodical mess. Papers are strewn about, either layering each other at different angles or stuck together by staples and paper clips. He couldn't make out much of their contents from his position. A black, articulating-arm desk lamp sits at one of the corners, its head hung above a sprawled out blueprint that details the path towards the storage space, and the clear tape kept the print still and open on any available cleared surface. Was it necessary to have that much tape...?

"So, this is all it?" Abel points at the design while asking, taking in much of the upside-down details as he could.

The cig is put back into the tray. "Yep! Had double-checked through all the things needed for the trip before ya got here. Hadn't left anythin' out yet."

Abel gives him a blank look. "Like that time ye forgot the hacksaw 'n lockpick kit while we were caged up by that tiger guy 'n his cronies?"

Benicio rolls his eyes in mild exasperation, then bobs his head from side to side. "Yes, I damn well forgot the hacksaw, along with the lockpick kit, Angel. Don't remind me."

The rebel smirks, amusement coloring his chuckling. "Jus' checkin'."

He sets a comical squint on the other toon. "Jeez, ya guys' like to blame me for my forgetfulness, don't ya?"

Abel casually shrugs. "Eh, it sometimes becomes a pastime when some of us have a day off from work."

"Oh, haha, hilarious…" Sarcasm drips on his tongue before the mafia toon sighs. He rolls his chair closer to get a better look at the diagram. "Anyway, let's go over the plan one more time."

He begins relaying the scheme to Abel as his pointer finger skitters across the blueprint from one spot to the next to indicate the specific details. Abel would nod and shake his head at different times and include his conjectures into Benicio's decisions. When possible outcomes pop up, they could either lead the duo home-free or in a pickle, so contingencies involving alternative routes come into play.

"... An', if we're lucky enough to get through this unnoticed, we could snag some smaller crates an' pack 'em into the backseat. That is if there's no time or no more room left available in the drunk." The mafia boss looks up expectedly at the rebel angel, using his crossed arms as support. "Well, that's it. Ya are all caught up. If this goes well, we'll be hittin' it big again."

"Emphasis on 'If this goes well'..." The angel toon repositions his chin on his palm.

"And, there it is! Was waitin' for that pessimism of ya's to show up!" Benicio quips, wearing a toothy grin. He then stood up and stretching his limbs over his head. "So, ya got everythin' ya need?" They drop down with a swing. "If not, the night's not gonna get any younger for us."

Abel casually smiles and takes out his brass knuckles, which has gotten them out of tight spots multiple times before, from hammerspace. "Been ready since I got here. Ye ain't ready yerself?"

Again, with the eye-rolling, but the mafia toon's earlier mood had been lulled from the anticipation. "Looks like we're all set then." He shoots back a grin, then gets a head start to the exit. "Let's get goin'."

One stroll through the corridor and a couple of steps into the last room on their left later, the duo find themselves within the Garage.

A bookshelf faces the back of the room, its contents mostly regarding vehicle repairs and instruction manuals. From the bookshelf's left are a few crates stacked up in a corner. From their left are a couple more situating in another corner. The elongated window - their blinds down - separates the two in the middle of the boxes. Two metal shelves hang across the opposite wall on the toons' right, each one possessing various tools and weapons that either are in need of fixing up or usage. An oriented strand table snuggles up beneath these shelves. Benicio's car, a 1946 Alfa Romeo Freccia d'Oro (Golden Arrow), is in the center of it all, though it leaves enough space on its right for other parked vehicles to occupy.

Both toons enter the vehicle. Before the mafia boss has the chance to insert the key into the lock cylinder, Abel already dons his seatbelt. One hand tightly grips the door handle and the other does the same on the seatbelt. Benicio sees this out of the corner of his eye, the item simultaneously slipping into its designated slot, and he snickers at the angel's anticipatory readiness.

Looking over, Abel raised an eyebrow at him in dry abashment. "What? I'm not takin' any chances of me dyin' while ye at the wheel again." He gets another chuckle and the rebel doesn't nearly catch the subtle teasing note embedded under the demon's hilarity.

"Heh, alrighty. Then, I'm sure ya won't mind me tryin' out this new, experimental engine I had installed beforehand." The mafia head nonchalantly continues poking fun at the rebel's reluctance. A couple of pats on the wheel were given. "It'll make my car go just a little bit fasterLike this!" And, as he spoke, the engine ignites by a simple key turn. You know, for shits and giggles!

Letting out a few initial revs, the machine comes to life at its command.

Abel jumps at the sudden noise and vibrations, letting out a surprised squeak. He immediately grabs hold of his seat with both tense hands. In seconds, his pie-cut eyes turn white and wide like dinner plates. "Nu-uh! Ye fuckin' with me, ain't ye, Demon?! Tell me that ye fuckin' kiddin'!" Even his entire face looks as if it had been drained of ink, perfectly capturing the incredulousness.

Everything about him went rigid, statue-like even, looking like if Diana went mayhem on a tornado with smeared make-up on her face. The halo dribbles down until it touches his hair, luminescence favoring a candle wax light. Angelic feathers puff out in a ruffled manner. The rushing, foreboding illusions swirling more violently than a thunderstorm isn't helping him calm down.

Benicio's laughter bursts out at the instant reaction, slapping a hand at his forehead as his back hits the driver's door.

With anger drowning the fear and swelling in his chest, showing itself in a form of deep gray blush, the angel starts beating his fists at Benicio's flimsy arm blockade. "It ain't funny, ye damn idjit!"

As one arm continues blocking, the other hand quickly turns the engine off. Benicio tries - and ultimately fails - to find his bearings through the comical onslaught of limbs. Several hearty chuckles and wheezes manage to slip from him before he spoke "R-Relax, Cherub! Hahaha! I'm kiddin', I'm kiddin'!"

One last punch strikes him at the shoulder before the limbs fully stop their waylaying.

Benicio couldn't wipe the grin off his face, even if he wanted it to. An invisible eyebrow nocks up when the mafia boss takes in the fuming toon's appearance. "What? Did ya really think I'd activate it so soon? I only use it when we're in a bind or when emergencies come up." He flashes him an innocent grin.

The rebel stays silent, brewing anger still swimming in his eyes and the blush stuck on his cheeks - the grin only adding fuel to the fire. He's looking like a chicken that had just gotten a rude awakening. It elicits more giggles out of the boss.

Just as the other toon begins to calm down, Benicio, shifting into a more serious expression, points at a small, navy blue rectangle on the left side of the radio. "But, no - seriously, though. Don't touch that button right there."

Uneasiness now hugs Abel's chest like his wings are doing now, his sight adverting from the dangerous button. Nothing like that should ever exist in this mortal plane, especially when it's in the hands of a reckless demon bastard.

Another question comes up in mind: How on God's green earth did the asshole obtain this hazardous thing in the first place?

You'd think: After all the times he almost avoided recking the damn vehicle itself, whether him getting chased by someone or him doing the chasing; crashing into high-rise buildings before finding out about what floor you're on; running over a couple of babysat kids' parents and the angel himself, the demon had to have thought twice about upgrading anything with an imaginary lethal warning attached to it. Letting the subject float for a bit, he'll let this slide for now and, if he remembers, mention this to Benicio once this heist is done.

The angel takes an inaudible gulp, watching in anxious anticipation as the other toon turns the key in the contact once more. The vehicle responds with a gentle, idle purr this time. Abel freezes up from it once more, the sound not helping his nearly settled nerves at all.

The garage door in front of them unfurls above their heads, metallic thudding filling in the background. It reveals Fonzy, with the small remote in hand, casually standing off to the side and the path connecting to their destination beside him. As soon as the way has completely been opened to them, in a blink of an eye, the vehicle rockets out of the structure. The machine's billowing roar, coupled with its squealing tires, voices its freedom.

The fox had jumped out of the way in time, having been shielding his eyes from the flying dust as the car sped off. When uncovering them, Fonzy spots the tire markings snaking across the tarmac before having them look upward. He watches as the last of the headlights disappear through the darkness, watches on as the road leads them into a larger section of forest that almost hugs the part of the city's border and flares out to the northwest.

"OH, SWEET, MERCIFUL, FUCKIN' GOD!" The angel screams from the top of his lungs. He's thankful for his wings blocking his view from the windshield as he would've possibly become nauseated if they weren't.

Abel's grip on the seat intensifies. His back went so far into the cushion from the force pressing against him that it could create an instant self-mold. His wings had enclosed over him as soon as they had hit the road, covering his head whenever the machine comes into contact with bumps and potholes.

The cartoon demon beams, side glancing at him for a split second, before turning back to the road. "NOT IN MY DAMN CAR, HE'S NOT!" He cries out an adrenaline-induced whoop, followed by maniacal laughter.

And while the car rips through the road at a bountiful speed that would have gotten the cops immediately on their asses if found, the scenery blurring past them in darker and lighter shades, Abel wonders if he had made the mistake of joining in Benicio's heist tonight. He would've used his wings - a safer way of transportation, in his opinion - than ride in this conglomerate mash of metal that could very well become their coffin if it crashes into something. The flight would've also slowed their traveling as well, but it'd be worth not going to Death's door.

But no, the damn demon didn't want any of it. Didn't want safety, didn't need anything slowing their progress, just the need for speed is all it takes. His recklessness will get him killed one day if he keeps this up.

As tired as his body felt since this morning, mind racing like the car itself in various sentences in part by the sudden boost of fear-invoked adrenaline, the rebel may have been glad to earn this small amount of rest before they reach their target.

That is if he could stop wailing his lungs out before they give out on him.

The cartoon angel's cries were carried throughout the entire journey. Whether if he remembers blackening out or simply closing his eyes during it, he couldn't say.

What he does know is, somewhere down the line, the vehicle comes to a slow crawl on the side of the road before doing a u-turn. It parks itself next to a grassy pathway with a forest green metal gate flanking its right. A secondary route across the road mimics this, except representing as a dirt version that cuts through a gate-less wooden fence. 'Looks like we've reached the machine shed.', he muses. Abel guesses that having the vehicle facing the same way to headquarters makes for an easier escape.

The rebel parts his quivering wings a bit. He watches the headlights blink out into the darkness, hearing the engine murmuring instead of roaring in the background. Just as the toon was widening them further, a hand touches his left-wing. Even though he identifies the hand belonging to Benicio, besides the fact that he's the only other toon in here, it still sparks fright within his heart and seizes his lungs.

A few seconds is all it takes for Abel to open the car door and bolt out of the car, barely hearing an "oomph!" on his way out. His left shoulder hits the pavement first as he tumbles out, wings stretching out to vainly stabilize himself. Every part of his body shook as if winter had ahold of him. The late spring's coming breeze doesn't reassure the rebel angel. The engine settles down to an idle slumber, keys letting out a couple of metallic tinkles while the other car door slams shut.

Footsteps jog around the front, scuffing noises come his way. The angel tilts his head up just in time to see Benicio take a knee in front of him. "Hey, ya gonna be alright, Abel...?" Voice earnest in quiet concern, he delicately places a hand on the angel's mildly sore shoulder, getting a small flinch in return. The demon toon quickly takes it off. "Uh... sorry." He utters out lamely before laying his hand on the other's back.

"Y-Yeah…" A inhale is taken; his body shakes lightly when it escapes. "Yeah, w-why wouldn't I be a-alright...?" Abel answers back in a hoarse voice, raising himself from his hands and knees to a sitting position. Dribbles of ink have managed to slide down his face.

A mischievous, sanguine grin adorns the mob boss's face. "Well, ya were screamin' the entire way... Probably blacked out at some point when I took a glance at ya - ya were slumpin' in your seat like a ragdoll, by the way. Ya also practically jumped out of the car after it stopped, an' had hit me in the face with one of ya wings on the way out, so... just checkin' to make sure." He gives a couple of pats between the shoulders.

The cartoon angel shoots a drooping, deadpan glare at the mob boss. "Great… As if that wasn't embarrassin' enough…"

Benicio doesn't comment on that.

His viewpoint shifts to the roadway. "J-Just give me a minute then."

And so, the boss lets him. In the meantime, he gets to his feet and takes his hand off the angel. As he waits for Abel to recuperate and regain his composure, Benicio leans against the side of the vehicle. Folding his arms over his chest, he looks up to the night sky and its cloud companions, seeing that the tufts are moving at a gradual rate. Tonight's moon is in its crescent phase, yet its luminescence shines as bright as its full state. A cloud and its wispy comrade pass the natural satellite. An owl hoots in the distance before flying over the toons' heads.

It's such a pretty night despite the potential racket they'll be making...

Hearing movement on his right, the mafia head turns his sight towards Abel, who is getting up off the ground and dusting himself off. Watching him turn around, the angel ambles up to Benicio until he stands in front of him, face set in a sober tone. He returns it with a simple smile. "Feelin' better now?"

The rebel tersely pokes his index finger to the demon's chest. "Next time, we're flyin'." The cartoon angel swivels on his heel after saying that, stomping across the road towards the designated building's dusty route.

"I'll take that as a 'Yes'…" He mutters. Jeez, and he thought he was bad enough when utilizing alternative transportation methods... Despite blanching at the thought of flying on the following filch trip, the mob boss forms one of his hands into a beak and mouths the angel's words in a jeering fashion.

Pausing at the entrance, Abel turns his back to it, not hearing the other's footsteps following him. Upon catching Benicio in the mock act, he's unamused by it. "Really…?" Receiving the demon's grin and wave, the toon rebel does an eye roll. "Ye comin' or what, Hotshot?! Like ye said earlier: We don't have all night!"

Having been busted, the demon instantaneously drops his hand to his side. "Wait! Hang on! I forgot to grab somethin'!" Quickly jogging to the left of the backseat, Benicio opens the door, grabbing the aforementioned item out from beneath the seat before shutting it lightly. Next, scampering up to where the angel is at, Benicio joins Abel's side and wags the piece of metal in the process. "Had to get the crowbar before we went in."

"Why am I not surprised…?" He gets a shrug. Before the boss could reply to the rhetorical question, however, Abel swiftly raises a finger. "Don't."

Now, it's Benicio's turn to transfer an unamused glare, his shoulders deflating. "Killjoy."

Thus, the two toons head to the entrance gate, crossing into their victim's territory.