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In retrospect, he probably should have kept his mouth shut. That seems to be the reasoning for just about everything that happens to him, in truth, but he's not about to admit that, especially not aloud. It's been a crappy month. It's been a crappy few months, actually, but who's counting? All he knows is that he's sick and tired of this city and the way it picks and chooses how and when to fuck up his life, and he's maybe a little more reactive than normal because of it.

This entire Purge nonsense, Nate has decided, is bullshit. The very fact that it's a thing people capitalise when they write it on flyers or even say it is indicative of how ridiculous it is. Nate's a goddamn thief and even he doesn't know who thought it was a good idea to let a bunch of would-be criminals run around unchecked for an entire night. Some part of him had kind of been hoping it would all fizzle out to nothing, but then he'd heard the first gunshot ring out at hardly past 6:30, the first molotov cocktail thrown through a window across the street from him shortly after.

There'd been a rush of people running and screaming, some barricading themselves inside their houses and others making for the streets with weapons, and somewhere in the midst of the confusion Nate had ended up with his gun pointed at the guy who just yesterday had made him coffee and chatted idly about the weather. He'd been trying to pull a goddamn burlap sack over some poor girl's head like they're in some kind of horror movie, and luckily Nate had enough presence of mind to have his .45 on him. One thing had led to another and Nate's not sure when exactly Jimmy the barista decided that they were enemies, but it was probably something to do with Nate telling him he made a crappy cup of coffee while flicking the safety off.

He hadn't counted on Jimmy having a friend in all this though, and the bat cracking across the back of his head had taken him by surprise. He'd gone down like a goddamn ragdoll, and now he's the guy with the fucking burlap sack over his head, tied to a chair.

"This is honestly next level, even for Darrow." Nobody answers him, which isn't really a surprise. There's a throbbing pain in his head, the sack smells like old compost and breathing is more difficult than it should be, but he's not panicking. He's been abducted before, and he's pretty sure Jimmy isn't as smart or evil as Marlowe or Rameses. He's hoping not anyway, because after everything, this would be a really crappy way to die.

"You definitely just lost yourself a loyal customer," he continues, calling out to the empty silence. His voice reverberates back to him, so he's guessing he's in some kind of basement, or warehouse maybe. He definitely doesn't have his gun anymore, which just tops off his day. He tries to think of whether he told Chloe or Coop or anybody where he was planning to be tonight, but with the entire city in chaos he has no idea where they might be, either. He shifts as best he can, testing the strength of the ties around his wrists and ankles. Plastic digs into his skin but nothing budges, and Nate rolls his eyes inside the sack. Zip-ties, just great.

There's the sound of a door opening, strange creepy music filling the room, and then the strike of a match. He can smell incense, and for a beat he thinks this has to be the weirdest kidnapping ever, but then the sack is blessedly removed from his head and he can see. The only light is from candles and it takes him a moment to blink through the darkness, but eventually he makes out the shapes of a bunch of people standing around him in a circle, heads bowed. His eyes are drawn to the man directly in front of him. He's bigger than Jimmy, probably about Nate's size, but more concerning is the knife he's holding.

"Oh hell no," Nate starts, shaking his head. "Thanks, but I'm not interested in joining your creepy-ass cult. I mean, I didn't read the fine print, but nobody told me that's what happens when you fill up your loyalty card."

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For someone who loves to break the law, Chloe is of the mind that the entire concept behind the Purge is utter bullshit. Part of what makes her so good at her job is that she doesn't get caught and the idea of the very thing she's spent years crafting into a near goddamn art form suddenly being available to every idiot to do without consequence is insulting. And, further to that, the thought that people need to blow off steam in this manner every seven years in order to decrease crime is laughable, because it sure as hell doesn't seem to be working in this city and she can't imagine it working anywhere else.

She had planned on staying in. She'd planned on riding this out without even so much as looking out a window, she had planned on watching TV with her .45 in one hand and the remote control in the other, but she should have known better. One doesn't retain the ability to follow through with most plans when one finds themselves attached to a certain Nathan Drake. It's his fault. It's obviously his fault. She doesn't worry about anyone except for him, because this is the sort of night she's sure pings all of Nate's heroic little buttons -- and a few of her own, but she'll deny it to the day she dies -- and when he doesn't answer his phone after the fourth call, she knows something is wrong.

Coop, on the other hand, does answer his phone and without really explaining why she's concerned -- because that would mean admitting to concern in the first place -- she asks him to meet her at Nate's apartment, although once she arrives, she doesn't even have to go upstairs to his place. There on the ground, obscured by a few bits of trash, is a very familiar gun. Someone else might not recognize it as Nate's, but Chloe knows his gun about as well as she knows other parts of him and she picks it up, checks the safety, then tucks it into the back of her pants.

"You bloody idiot," she mutters, looking for something else. Another clue, another bit of information to tell her what's happened to him and it's just as Coop is arriving that she spots the blood.

"Now now, I know I've made some mistakes but I thought we were past the point of insults," Coop said but his tone was serious, concerned. He didn't necessarily know if him coming along was the best idea but Nate was still his friend, no matter what, and if Chloe needed the help, he'd use his unique skillset to try and help her.

He just really hoped he didn't have to handle a gun or throw a grenade. He was never good with weapons and he was never going to be good with weapons.

Coop stepped up closer to Chloe, eyes narrowing at the sight of blood. He asked a stupid question because now, along with concerned, he was nervous. "Is that his blood?"

"You, darling, are lovely," she answers, but her voice is tight with worry and she sounds distracted, crouched by the bit of blood she's found. There's no way to know for certain it's Nate's, but given its proximity to his gun -- and that she can identify beyond a shadow of a doubt -- she's willing to place a fairly hefty bet on the fact that it is.

"I don't know," she admits, standing again, then producing Nate's gun from where she'd tucked it into her belt. The safety is on now and she just holds it in her palm, but it's comforting anyway, having Nate's gun in one hand and her own in the other. "But this is and it was lying on the ground near the blood. Nate wouldn't just toss his gun."

Then her graze is drawn to another shining patch of blood on the sidewalk and another just beyond that. It isn't a lot, but it's enough to form a path and she points it out to Coop, following it toward what looks like an abandoned warehouse just half a block over.

"Did he bleed a trail?" Coop asked, sounding both surprised and impressed. He probably didn't exactly mean to bleed them a way to either find him or something telling them where Nate was but he'd done it anyway and Coop had to give him his dues for that. Hopefully he wasn't bleeding enough to do damage to himself -- not permanent damage, that is.

"Could have been someone tried to mug him," Coop said, trying for the simple explanation, the most rational thing to happen even if he knew that wasn't the case. Not in this city. "He carrying a lot of money around lately? Do any jobs that maybe pissed someone off?"

"On a regular night, I might buy that, but tonight?" she asks, gesturing around. From down the block there's a scream of anger and then a loud series of thumps, as if someone is hitting a car with a baseball bat and, given the circumstances, that's probably exactly what's happening. "I doubt it."

The warehouse looks as if it's seen better days, graffiti decorating the exterior, but when she tries the door, Chloe finds it locked. An abandoned building like this would have been forced open long ago by people looking for a warm, dry place to sleep and she frowns as she checks the door again, then leans forward and presses her ear against the wood.

"There's music coming from in there," she says. "And... chanting?"

Overhead is a small window, probably not big enough for Coop to get through, but Chloe is sure she can wriggle inside and open the door for him once she's there. She nods up at it, then gestures for him to get closer. "Boost me up. I'll unlock the door from the inside. Something's going on in there."

Coop heard the music and voices just a few seconds before Chloe did. He put his ear closer to the exterior, listening to see if he could make anything out. There were words that he recognized but in the order they were being chanted did not make sense. He tried to make out Nate's voice but couldn't pick out any one voice.

"Did he go to a fucking party?" Coop grumbled though he wasn't serious. There wouldn't be blood and things left behind if Nate had gone somewhere to have some fun. He was a dumbass but he probably wouldn't be going to a party especially on a night like tonight. It was just bound to go wrong.

"Please tell me you didn't wear shoes with a heel," Coop said, cupping his hands together and waiting for her to step up. "You better not leave me out here either. I'm unarmed and pretty. That's like a pheromone to some people tonight."

The Purge is definitely the worst idea this city has ever had, and not only because Nate's pretty sure he's about five minutes away from having his organs harvested. Being tied to a chair in an abandoned warehouse would be bad enough, but they won't stop chanting, and the whole thing is just getting creepier by the minute. There are spots in his vision when he blinks but Nate can still make out the hooded figures in front of him, and it seems almost as though the circle is closing in a little more with every word.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he knows he has a head wound, because he can feel the throbbing and his hair feels matted, even though he can't touch it with his fingers. He knows it's a bad sign, knows it's going to make thinking clearly tougher the longer he sits here fighting to stay conscious, but he knows there's no way in hell he's letting himself close his eyes. His mouth keeps moving instead, and eventually Nate doesn't even know what he's saying really, but that doesn't matter. They're not listening to him anyway and the important thing is that he keeps himself focused. He really, really wishes he had his gun, but he's gotten out of worse scraps without it.

"Get it together, Nate," he mutters to himself, tugging at the zip-ties again. He can't trust that anyone is coming for him, because there's a good chance nobody knows he's even missing. He has to get out of this himself, and so he's working on steeling himself, getting ready to tip the chair over and maybe snap it. He knows it'll be hell on his shoulder, but it's better than being ritually sacrificed by Jimmy and his devil-worshipping barista cult.

"Don't worry, I'll save both your pretty asses," Chloe says, although she's already halfway up the wall with Coop's help when she speaks. Pulling herself up on the ledge, she realizes she feels at home for the first time since she arrived in Darrow in this moment. It's too bad Nate has to have potentially been put in danger to give her this, but as she drops down quietly into the warehouse and turns around to unlock the door, Chloe knows she's finally completely in her element.

The chanting is louder in here and she can see candlelight flickering on the floor from a room toward the back. There's a bit more blood on the floor, enough that she's sure of their path, but not so much she's worried Nate might actually be dead, if it's his blood at all. She can't see anything inside the back room, not from angle, so she hurries to unlock the door and get Coop inside.

For a moment she's worried the door is going to squeal tellingly when she opens it, but the hinges move soundlessly and she opens it only wide enough for Coop to slip inside with her.

"Can I give you this for now?" she whispers, holding Nate's gun toward him. "You don't need to shoot it, just look threatening."

Coop waited nervously while she shimmied her way up the wall and then he shifted from one foot to another when she disappeared. He only let go of a breath when she opened the door and he slipped inside quietly.

"You are asking a lot of me, lady," Coop said but he took the weapon anyway. It was heavier than it looked, warmed by her hand and powerful. Deadly. He used weapons when needed but he wasn't a fan. He didn't need guns where he was from when he was equipped with magical immunity, a Marilyn and someone like Phil in his head telling him where to avoid.

He took a deep breath and nodded, pointing the weapon low but keeping it ready. Just because he wasn't a fan didn't mean he didn't know how to use one of these.

"What the hell's he's gotten himself into?" Coop whispered, shaking his head. "Has a group of people found him and made him their king? They could do so much better."

There's a moment where the music stops and then starts again, repeating the same song, like it's coming from an iPod or something. Nate's never been part of a cult, but he's pretty sure the music is meant to be more ominous than that, and he rolls his eyes. His head throbs in protest and his vision swims and he regrets that quickly enough, groaning.

"Seriously, you couldn't even fork out for better audio?" He's almost offended. If he's going to be kidnapped and ritually sacrificed, the least they could do is make it a proper enterprise. "I've gotta say, this is the worst kidnapping I've ever been a part of. You guys could take tips."

It's maybe not the worst ever, because at least they've succeeded so far. Maybe Rameses was more of an asshole, maybe Marlowe was infinitely more threatening, but he still can't move, so they've done something right. Apparently insulting their operation is the last straw though, because the man with the knife moves forward and Nate feels the cold blade along the side of his neck. He doesn't flinch, he won't give them that, but he does feel his heart-rate pick up.

Somebody else moves from behind to roughly pull a gag behind his teeth, and oh, Nate thinks. Apparently his running commentary is no longer welcome. The rag is tied off too tightly, sending a lancing pain through his skull, but Nate ignores it, trying to work out instead how he can use the closer proximity to his advantage. He could throw himself backwards and hope to take them by surprise, but the knife at his throat stops him.

"I have faith in you," Chloe says to Coop, gently and quietly clicking off the safety on her own .45 and lifting it to shoulder height as she creeps forward. The music stops suddenly, then starts up again and she glances back at Coop with an arched eyebrow before Nate's voice suddenly cuts through the din of bad music and worse chanting.

He's been kidnapped. By someone who apparently doesn't have very good audio and the comment almost makes her laugh, but she knows that's not how she wants to draw attention to them right now. First they need to see just how many people they're dealing with and then they're free to make all the sarcastic comments in the world.

Sliding to the side, Chloe presses herself against the wall just outside the door and risks a quick glance inside.

"A dozen people in robes," she murmurs to Coop. "Nate's bound to a chair. One of them has a knife." But she's willing to bet none of them are in possession of a firearm and she she throws a small grin at Coop and then shrugs as if to say she doesn't have much of a choice here.

"You know he's not a virgin, right?" she asks as she steps into the room, gun still lifted. She trusts Coop to follow her lead. "I thought that was the sort of thing you blokes went in for."

Coop was going to let her take the lead. Rescues were not his thing. He was the one who had to be rescued sometimes but he was never leading the charge, guns out while he left a trail of bodies behind him. So, Chloe could do her thing and he'd back her up and hope that he didn't have to shoot anyone.

After rolling his eyes at Nate's sarcasm, Coop fell into step behind Chloe and raised the weapon, trying to train it in the direction of whoever these people were and away from Nate. Friendly fire -- yeah, Nate would not forgive him for that one.

"Oh god, you're one of those people," Coop said under his breath, watching Chloe start to taunt the people that had kidnapped Nate. It wasn't wise to poke the bear and here was Nate and Chloe, doing exactly that. "If I get shot, I'm gonna be so pissed at you both."

But, he wasn't shying away. He was doing his best to provide ample backup while not getting himself kidnapped or shot in the face.

He's steeling himself and is just about ready to say to hell with it and try his luck at escaping anyway, but then he hears Chloe's voice from somewhere across the room. He doesn't know how she managed to find him or how she knew he was missing in the first place, but he's suddenly absurdly grateful that she's here.

He can't see her very well from the position he's in and craning his neck to try leaves his throat more vulnerable than it already is, so he just has to hope she was smart enough to bring her gun.

He can hear a second set of footsteps shortly after, and when he hears Coop's voice he looks up at the man with the knife and shakes his head, smirking as best he can around the gag. If he could, he'd tell him he's kidnapped the wrong guy. Nate has gotten his way out of stickier situations and he's reasonably confident he could have handled this alone and then kicked all their asses, but it'll be even easier now.

He just has to hope Coop doesn't shoot Nate. He knows guns aren't Coop's favourite thing ever, but he hopes he at least knows enough to point it at the right person.

"How did you get in here?"

Chloe recognizes that voice and she turns in the direction of the hooded man who's speaking, squinting at him in the candlelight before she lets out a surprised laugh. It's the guy who makes her smoothies every other morning, the one Chloe tips so well because he has a nice ass. Next to him is the girl who sells tacos at the best food truck Chloe's been to in years and she can't believe she actually recognizes the people who are apparently in a cult and have kidnapped the man who's most certainly not her boyfriend.

"Magic fingers, love," she answers. "Which you might have discovered, had you not kidnapped my... Nate. Hands up, all of you. Including you, handsome. Knife on the floor first, though, don't make my friend here shoot you."

She nods for Coop to aim his gun at the man who has his knife at Nate's throat, praying he's kept the safety on. It's not that she doesn't trust him with the gun -- she's sure he could manage in a pinch -- but he's admitted he doesn't like weapons and she figures the sight of the gun is enough in a moment like this.

This was like every action movie he'd ever seen. Heroic entrance, big talk and now, Coop was sure it was going to be time for a hail of bullets, blood and bodies. He just wanted the bodies to not include himself or his friends.

His hands were surprisingly steady when he raised them to point at the man holding Nate hostage. He frowned, brow furrowed while he took in that whole scene. He had to wonder why Nate had been the one to be kidnapped. Had he let his big mouth get the better of him? Or was he just some...fertile male they were going to breed?

He hoped it wasn't that last one. He also hoped that if he had to shoot, he didn't hit Nate.

"Including your Nate?" Coop asked, almost amused. "Almost a Freudian slip there, love."

This kind of thing has always suited Chloe, he thinks. It's been a while since they've been in this kind of situation but he can admit he likes seeing her in her element, even if he has to be tied to a chair and gagged. If he were less concerned with not being murdered, he might have paid a little more attention to the hesitation when Chloe refers to him, but that can wait. He's told her before that she suits playing the hero and he knows she'd roll her eyes at him and argue, but she does.

Coop looks a little less at ease, but so long as he doesn't slip and shoot Nate in the head, he doesn't really care.

He does care about the knife that's still at his throat, though. Despite Chloe's warning, smoothie guy hasn't budged, and Nate feels the blade press a little firmer against his neck. "Drop your weapons," he orders, and Nate has to give the guy that at least. He's got balls.

He doesn't expect Chloe to relinquish her gun so easily, though. This should be an easy fight, .45 against knife, but then Nate hears the click of a safety being turned off and when he flicks his eyes upwards he can see that smoothie guy has more than just a knife. Damn.

Nate shifts against the bindings again, and in response the knife presses firmer again until Nate starts to feel the sharp sting of it, the first beads of blood pooling. "Put them down or he dies," the voice says again, and by Nate's reckoning he's still outnumbered two to one, but that doesn't seem to have stopped him.

It was more than just a slip and while, not all that long ago she would have called Nate her boyfriend without a thought -- even in front of someone else she was sleeping with -- not all that long ago he'd also been a free man. Now she tries not to consider what they are, not because she feels particularly guilty about sleeping with Elena's husband, but because considering what she and Nate are to each other always leads to troubling thoughts.

And Chloe very much prefers to lead life untroubled.

She's in the midst of throwing Coop a dirty look when the gun appears and Chloe's look of irritation turns to one of exasperation. The knife is pressing too hard to Nate's throat for her to do anything like rush the guy and she's an excellent shot, but he's too close to Nate for her to want to take the risk just yet.

"Trust me, darling, if he hasn't died yet, you're not going to be the one to do him in," she answers, her voice dry and steady despite the way her heart is beating quickly. She's not wrong, Nate has been in worse situations than this, but that doesn't mean she feels good about what she knows they're going to have to do.

People are probably going to die here tonight. Chloe's job is to make sure it's not anyone she cares about who goes down. She nods at Coop slightly, trying to indicate that she wants him to go around the group. They know he's here right now, but she can be a distraction when she wants to and she steps forward, still holding her gun.

"Besides, if you just kill him outright, doesn't that mess up the ritual?" she asks.

This was a fucking action movie. A goddamn action movie and he'd somehow stepped right into it and now he was either going to die, going to be some kind of hero, or he was going to be one of those people in the background that everyone forgot about while shit exploded and burned. He really hoped he could at least be some kind of hero. Even if people later found out the label was misplaced, it was better than dying.

Coop took a breath and finally started to move, creeping around the edges of the group. Some of them looked but most were focused on Nate and Chloe which meant he could move a bit quicker than if people were looking at him. He kept the gun up just in case but he really didn't want to use it. Really didn't want to kill someone.

He kept his eyes on Nate to make sure he was still okay as he moved, listening to Chloe taunt these people and shaking his head in exasperation. Hopefully they didn't call her bluff and kill Nate just to spite her.

If she keeps this up, Nate's not sure they're going to care much about ruining their ritual. The only reason he's here is because he messed up their first attempt at a kidnapping, so he's reasonably sure they wouldn't hesitate to just grab somebody else if he dies. He has no intention of dying, but the longer they stand in this stalemate, the more concerned he is.

Coop's moving, Nate can see him out of the corner of his eye, and he's glad that at least they seem to have some kind of plan. Knowing Chloe, there's a good chance she's making the entire thing up on the fly, but he trusts her. He knows he always works better without a plan, though he's sure Chloe would argue the point.

What he really wants, is for someone to untie him and ungag him, but there's not a lot he can do right now except sit tight and wait for somebody to make the first move. He tilts his neck a little, still trying to avoid the blade of the knife, waiting for any opportunity to be presented to him.

"I didn't know we had to kill someone!" a shrill voice suddenly pipes up from somewhere in the group. Chloe can't see the woman, but it's a good sign, a little sowing of dissent which works well in their favour.

"Shut up, Karen!" someone else snaps.

"You shut up," a third voice chimes in. "I know that guy, he's pretty nice. I don't want to kill him."

Chloe looks to Nate first, tries to figure out what his chances of getting out from under that knife are without an injury, then decides it's not worth the risk. She shakes her head at him, just slightly, telling him she doesn't want him to move. She's moved herself enough now that she can get a decent shot at the guy holding the knife and the gun, but from out of nowhere, another guy appears on the other side of Nate, flanking him.

Which is where she needs Coop to come in. With a slight jerk of her chin, as more members of this supposed cult begin to argue about whether or not they should kill Nate, she tries to indicate what she wants him to do. He doesn't need to shoot the gun, after all, all he needs to do is use the thing as a club and the man standing on Nate's other side will go down in a heap.

"Shut up all of you!" the guy with the knife shouts, pressing it too hard into Nate's throat at the same time and Chloe knows she can't wait any longer. Her gun lifts and slides into place and she squeezes the trigger, the report very loud in the enclosed space. Her shot takes him high in the shoulder, not placed to kill him, but enough that the knife and gun both go flying and he's thrown backward several stumbling steps before he collapses on the ground.

"Hit him now!" she shouts at Coop, moving forward to try and get the gun.

Coop, thankfully, doesn't try and make a witty remark. He doesn't try and be funny even if he wanted to say something about Chloe ordering him around and telling him what to do. He could have mouthed off with something flirtatious and funny but even he knew it wasn't the right time. Nate had a knife to his throat, he was carrying a damn gun and there was some inept cult trying to sacrifice his friend to some god.

What the hell kind of people had he aligned himself with? Darrow was going to drive him into drinking more or straight into therapy. Possibly he was going to take a beer to a therapy appointment or something.

Coop took a quick breath and stepped up to the man holding Nate. He drove the butt of the gun down into the back of his neck, doing it once more for good measure to make sure the guy was going to end up a crumpled heap at his feet. The man fell back into his legs though and Coop stumbled, proceeding to drop the gun on the unconscious man's face and busting his nose open.

"Goddammit," Coop said, swiping the gun up and making a face. "I hate this city."

They're arguing, and Nate has to refrain from rolling his eyes when it first starts up. They're so unbelievably bad at this it would be laughable if there weren't still weapons trained on him. For all that some of them seem suddenly less inclined to murder him, the ones that do want to are still disappointingly adamant about it.

All of the discord is making smoothie guy antsy though, and Nate feels the blade press dangerously close before a shot rings out and he stumbles backwards. Chloe has made her move, and Nate has a second to be concerned about the other guy at his side before Coop knocks him down and splits his damn face open. He cranes his neck around, sees his own gun in Coop's hand, and a feeling of relief washes over him. He'd thought he'd lost it, but at least the two of them have found it and brought it with him. He's going to need it, because Nate is going to shoot his way out of here if he has to.

He doesn't necessarily want to. Nate's not the kind of guy who kills people for fun, and he'd prefer to avoid it wherever possible, but he can't deny that he's done it plenty of times before.

He can't do anything while he's tied here though, and Nate struggles against the zip-ties again, making a frustrated noise against the gag. The woman who had argued against killing him is screaming something, but Nate's more focused on the guy Chloe shot. There's blood running from his shoulder but he's already moving to get up again, reaching for the gun again.

Chloe gets there first, though only just, and she pulls back her foot and sends her boot hard into the face of the guy she's just shot. He howls as his nose breaks, but he seems desperate to spill Nate's blood and he doesn't stop moving toward the gun on the floor until Chloe steps on his outstretched hand and then bends to pick up the gun, holding them both trained on him.

"Nate. Coop. You boys okay?" she asks without taking her eyes off the guy on the floor. He's not the only danger here, though, and she's sure all three of them know it. Parts of this ridiculous cult might seem to think killing Nate is a bad idea, but there are plenty of others who seem to be thirsting for someone's blood. She doesn't have the slightest idea what they might be trying to do here, but she knows she doesn't want to find out.

Carefully, she tucks one gun into her belt, then ducks to scoop up the knife. Still moving slowly, still with her gun trained on the guy on the floor, she goes around behind Nate and works the knife carefully into the ties at his wrists to cut him free. Her hand is shaking just a little, the only indication she'd been at all worried that something here might go terribly wrong.

"Keep your eye on that one," she says to Coop, nodding to the man on the floor. "I'll get Nate free and then we'll tie him up. I'm sure he's got an extra zip tie or two."

"Just fine. Stressed. Pretty sure this whole thing took a few years off my life and I really need to start going to therapy but I'm alive," Coop said, shaking his head and glancing at Nate. He looked a bit bruised, battered but alive and that was the important thing.

Once the dust settled, Coop was going to give Nate so much shit for being caught up by some inept cult. It was something Coop would do and get caught in because he was an idiot but Nate thought he was smarter and this just proved that Nate was more like Coop than he thought.

Coop did as he was told, keeping a watchful eye on the man on the ground just in case he tried to play hero and go for one last ditch effort to try and save whatever he and his cult had been trying to do.

He can't really answer her and she's got her eyes on the guy on the ground, not on Nate, but he nods anyway. She picks up the knife and moves back towards him with her gun still pointed, and Nate's glad that for all that Coop might be freaking out, Chloe knows what she's doing. They've done this plenty of times before, and maybe he's not usually zip-tied to a chair with a gag in his mouth, but this is more or less familiar territory.

The knife slips between the ties and Chloe cuts him free quickly, though when Nate glances down he can see the way her hands shake a little. It's unlike her, but he doesn't have time to ask any questions, and he knows she's not going to answer them right now anyway. Instead, he pulls his hands free and tugs at the gag straight away. "That tasted like ass," he says, making a face and rubbing at the marks on his wrists where the plastic had dug in. He lets Chloe continue cutting him free with the knife, turning to give Coop a little wave. "Hey, Coop. Fancy seeing you here."

He blinks when his head swims a little, but he shakes it off. He still needs to get himself - and now them - out of here alive; he can pass out later, it's fine. "Gun," he says to Chloe once he's free, gesturing to the spare one at her hip. "I'd really like a gun."

From the floor, the guy who'd had a knife to Nate's throat, the one she'd just kicked shouts, "Do something, you idiots!" Chloe passes his gun off to Nate, settling it into his palm with a smile that borders on dark and then she turns, her foot lashing out again, kicking Nate's kidnapper in the face hard enough to knock him out.

Later, when she thinks about it, she considers that to be the tipping point. She, Nate and Coop are all armed, but they're outnumbered and even though there are a few cult members whose loyalty is wavering, there are still enough who do not like seeing their leader kicked in the face. There's a cry of rage from somewhere in the group and suddenly they're rushing forward.

"Back!" Chloe shouts, gesturing at Coop to head toward the door they'd come through. The front is open, they'll be able to get out into the street, though that doesn't necessarily mean they'll be safe. It will give them more places to hide. Without a thought, she steps in front of them both, raising her gun again, squeezing off a round into the teeming crowd.

"Goddammit, I really didn't want to have to run for my life," Coop barked, backing away towards the door. He held the gun aloft, making sure to swing it to and fro to keep those that wanted to advance back. He didn't want to shoot the thing but if it came down to him or them, he was going to aim, shoot and hope he didn't take anyone's eye out.

That would be gross.

Sure footed and quiet, he backed towards the door, trying to cover Nate and Chloe while they walked. That was his job, right? He was the cover, the guy who made sure neither of them took bullets in the back. He only wished he was better with the tough talk. So, he just put on his best scowl and kept his gun cocked and aimed, acting like he did this all the time and that he wasn't shaking in his proverbial boots.

Kicking the guy in the face seems to be the thing that spurs them on, and Nate's glad for the familiar weight of the gun in his hands when he finally stands free of the chair and raises it. It's not his gun, but it'll do in a pinch. The crowd of people starts to rush at them, and maybe Nate has a gun in his hand but they're still severely outnumbered and he doesn't know how many of them are hiding weapons. His finger settles on the trigger, steady like it has a thousand times before, only then Chloe steps in front of him.

If he had more time he might have rolled his eyes at her. She knows he can handle himself, despite the current evidence to the contrary. She's watched him shoot his way out of stickier situations than this, but she still steps in front and nudges him behind like he needs protecting. The shots she fires cuts off any protest he might have made though, so Nate focuses instead on getting Coop towards the door. He hasn't fired a shot since coming in here and Nate knows he won't want to. He's hoping for Coop's sake that he won't have to.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees a hand go into the folds of the robe the person's wearing, and Nate turns and fires without waiting to see what he might be holding, the bullet hitting him in the shoulder. "I'm never buying coffee from these assholes again," he mutters, walking backwards towards the door with his gun still raised. If they manage to get out of this, maybe he'll even swear off the stuff altogether.

He risks a quick glance back at Coop, just to make sure he's still there and moving, and then he fires another quick shot at the garage door mechanism, hearing it spur to life behind them. "Chloe!" he calls, warning her quickly that they have their way out.

If not for the giant mob chasing them, she would laugh, hearing first the shot, then the rattle of a garage door sliding open. They could have just gone for the door they'd come in through, but she'd been careful to close it behind them so as not to indicate their presence and it would take a precious few seconds to get it open again. This is faster, it's better.

And it's so much more Nate.

She moves in that direction, catching up with Coop for a moment and plucking his sleeve so he knows where they're headed. Almost at the same time, she shifts the sight of her gun and squeezes the trigger again, sending a bullet into one of the robed figures that seemed to be coming straight for Coop. She meets his gaze, shrugs a little, then heads for the rolling garage door.

"Go to my place," she says, because none of the cult members will know where that is. "If we get separated, both of you meet me there."

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