Unlike Sarah, I've never had the "pleasure" of meeting Stan in person. Before tonight I never wanted to meet him. However, almost a decade of experience introduced his "type" to me. This is why I wasn't surprised that Ben could stow away out of the thousands of back alleys and hideouts. Instead, he chose this "rustic" place (I hope I'm using that word right).

By plugging the tracker into our car, we traced Stan's location to a local bar sandwiched between a tattoo shop and a yogurt place though it was clearly the oldest building. One of the windows was covered with taped cardboard, and the chipped brick showed years of weathering. However, what caught my eye most was the big black wooden board with a crudely drawn image of a frothing mug shaped like a fist, with the title "Punch Drunk."

When we parked in a discreet back alley, we started to change clothes. Espionage has never been my strong suit, but being assigned to the Paladin, I'm willing to try new things. Through the trunk, we dressed in Detriot police attire, complete with fake IDs, search warrants, and even cuffs. Due to my injuries, Sarah got done first, meaning she already got a good look at the place before I even entered.

"I can already tell this place is going to be trouble," she said depressingly.

"How so?"

She then grabbed my shoulder while pointing at a small insignia near the wooden title. It featured a black and white-winged skeleton in a motorcycle cap and jacket.

"That symbol belongs to the Highwaymen Motorcycle Club. a One percenter motorcycle group since the 50s. They've done everything from distribution to assault."

"Do you just have these groups on speed dial or-"

"Regardless of Stan potentially bribing them or not, a fight may be unavoidable," she said pragmatically.

My ribs started itching at the mere mention of the word "fight." Regardless of what I said, any future conflicts were bad. Multiple clocks were ticking here. Still, I wasn't too worried about realizing Sarah's wording.

"What do you need me to do?" I said willingly.

"Follow these instructions. I'm not going to repeat them twice."

A couple of minutes later, we strolled right into the bar. Unfortunately, the same coarseness carried into the inside as well. The wooden floorboards had egregious warping and jagged cracks strewed about. Every chair or table was either down a leg or dented. Only the beverages were up to date, featuring a wide selection of exotic drinks, sculpted shot glasses, and even a whole set of Cuban cigars. And most surprising of all: coasters.

My focus then drifted to our potential enemies. Staying on brand for their gang, the nine people in the room were dressed in ripped jeans, motorcycle gloves, and other biker gear. Their hungry glares and apparent bandages made me feel like bait in a shark tank. Still, they stood at the ready while their "boss" rolled in. A middle-aged man with a hefty build and gray mustache walked up to us. His fingerless gloves, sunglasses, and fingerless gloves gave him a fearsome appearance as he spoke for his crew.

"Anything we can help you with, officer?" he said gruffly.

Ever the conversationalist, I took the lead.

"Maybe you can, good sir. I'm Detective Ozwald Macrom, and this is my partner Dorothy Walnut," I said confidently while regretfully having too much fun making the fake IDs. "We have evidence to believe that you may be harboring a fugitive. However, if you just let us search the premises and or apprehend him, then we can be on our merry way," I said casually.

"Do you have a warrant?" he said in deadpan.

Sarah silently pulled it out expectedly

"As you can see, we already have that. So now, if you can just comply, we can be out of here in five minutes," I said nicely.

The second those words left my mouth, the entire mood of the bar shifted. What little pleasantry remained as the bike leader developed a devilish snicker.

"Nah, I think you should get out here in five seconds instead. Before I make you," he said pridefully.

We didn't budge an inch as I looked far more seriously towards the unlucky man. Any attempt to keep guises left as I mixed the truth with my next words.

"Look, if you haven't noticed, it's been a tough night. We don't need to make it more difficult than it has to be. Let us through," I said bluntly.

I got my answer in the form of a jab to the face. They might as well have swung his fist toward a boulder. The attack was so telegraphed I had no problem grasping it. Sarah's earlier words then started to ring inside my ears.

"Before we even enter, you take the lead. You're the bigger and a better speaker. Do your usual Cormac charm but when you do, take note of your surroundings. They could lead us to whoever's the badest person in the room. If a fight occurs, make sure said person takes the first swing. Beyond that point...,"

I powered through the numbing pain in my side to tighten every muscle in my body. Nothing was held back as my hand transformed into a cold iron grip so hard I drew blood from his knuckles. Milliseconds later, bones compressed hard enough to pop. Overwhelming power turned regressed years of hardened composure into that of a scared child.

"Gahh! Let go of me, you crazy bastard!" he said before unleashing another jab.

I smacked the blow away like you would a child's. Then, I lifted my free hand and balled it up. The last words of Sarah's speech still ring.

"Hit them with everything you've got," she said coldly.

I let James Cormac vanish briefly, replacing him with the soldier Artillery. There was no room for mercy here. Herculean strength condensed every muscle, making my fist grow so heavy I might as well have a hammer in it. My legs and hips braced the incredible weight underneath them. I launched my fist straight towards his face when the tension became unbearable.

In vain, he tried to block, but it was pointless. He might as well have been an ant defending against a boot. For a brief second, I saw his face concave before he lifted him upwards, along with his blood and teeth, before descending back like a thunderbolt. Utter awe shook through the entire gang, pausing them for several seconds before the nearest guy tried to finish where their leader started.

The effort had their punch deflected and throat chopped by the Paladin in one motion. Then, following my brutality, she unleashed a decisive elbow to the jaw before giving a liver shot that stunned him. Finishing her combo, she then knocked the downed man into the front of the bar before doing a reverse spin kick to the head.

Bypassing the rule of three, the other seven combatants finally broke out of their stupor and attacked. Here Sarah's tip on watching surroundings came in hand, not that I ever needed the suggestion. I learned that fights were unpredictable long ago, meaning I had to be. When I realized the depths of my strength and accuracy, I started seeing anything in my hands as a weapon.

I held true to that fact as I instantly pitched a shot glass across someone's face. If that didn't bring him down, Sarah's flying knee did. We kept up this tempo for a few seconds, deflecting and crowd controlling in perfect sync. However, we quickly got broken up when a madman with a chain swung down.

Despite my injuries, I didn't dare let him harm Sarah, promptly grabbing the weapon and tying it around his neck. His neck wouldn't hurt for long, though, as I instantly used his face to block a brass-knuckled punch! But, then, a brief second of shock consumed us as the man crumpled.

Subtly I saw the assailant look genuinely remorseful before trying to clock me again. They never got the chance, though, as I instantly cracked my chain across his eyes. From there, I barraged him with blows, keeping him off balance. I couldn't finish the job; this time, a petite girl swooped down with a knife in hand.

Each blocked pierce still found blood as I tried body slamming her into the counter! Unfortunately, the move did more damage to me than her, as she used the momentum to roll away and aim the knife at my eye.

Thankfully a nearby coaster saved my life as I used it to block the attack. Before the woman could counter back, I grabbed her leg and pulled hard enough to have her head crashing against the counter, along with several bottles. That brief jolt gave me enough energy to break the coaster across my knuckleduster foe and finish the chain guy with a stab to his hand using the free blade.

At that point, though, I was practically spent. A pressing weakness carried over me as I saw my partner with her back to the wall. Literally, two men had both her arms trapped while another proceeded to beat on her. Once I saw her bloody lip, I wanted to move until I saw my partner's eyes were still steady.

When the next punch got winded up, Sarah instantly retaliated. She violently dodged the strike while delivering a rising front kick to her attacker's jaw. I swear I could see his brain rattle like a drum, the shocking sight startling Sarah's captors enough to strike. Decisively she dealt a crushing head butt to the man on her side before twisting behind her other opponent to leap behind the wall and flip over him.

In seconds she had her man in a headlock, proceeding to give him several crushing knees to his sternum before he collapsed. Exhaustion claimed her soon after, as we spent the next minute heavily breathing amidst our defeated enemies. Immediately, the fight settled, and a persistent knocking started reverberating throughout the bar.

Following the sound, we turned up towards a locked broom closet haunted by a loud voice. After fiddling with the locks, the door immediately flew open as a man in a dirtied-up and bloodied brown business suit fell to the floor. After a whole day of bloodshed, we finally had our guy. Immediately to recover like he owned the place, excitedly saying.

"Finally, felt like I was going to suffocate in there. Get me a good whiskey, and I might add another thousand to your pay," he then looked up to see us both.

I swear I could physically see Stan's gears turning, pretending to be a shriveled victim while saying.

"Oh, officers, I'm so glad you arrived. These ruffians seem to have taken me hostage," he said panicky.

A complete role reversal happened, as Sarah was the one to speak first.

"We aren't officers," she said while leaning down to Stan's eye level.

"Then, who might you be?" he said fearfully.

"That's classified, but if memory serves, I was the "bitch" who promised to take you piece by piece if you evaded justice. And I'm still ready to if you try to resist," she said with conviction.

A stark realization shook Stan to his core as he blurted out.

"Oh fuck."

Seconds later, we escorted our prisoner out to the bar. Ever the optimist, I thought that meant that this entire night at least had a happy ending. However, we were greeted by one last visit before we could even exit the door. A golden spider-like drone with a singular red eye stood in our way. Unlike its predecessors, though, this one carried a voice, albeit very gravelly yet commanding.

"Greetings, agents. I appreciate the struggles you've gone through to procure our ally. Unfortunately, though, I must suggest you hand him over," the robot said ominously.