Mark pulled his own Sig from his holster, sliding a 9mm mag in, nodding.
"Mine is pretty pish. So that's good to know." Mark replied, sharp as ever as he pulled the shades up onto his forehead, looking to Ross, who pulled in by the front of the bar. The suburbs of Nogales could be seen down below in the valley, and the US border near that. It was a border town alright, and this was not a place anyone had jurisdiction, the Sicarios did their work here and didn't like any Federales coming in their way. A good amount of money kept them out of sight, at least.

"Alright Ross, you know the drill. You know the route. Just be ready. Ellie, just be ready for things to get messy. Ross might need another pair of hands." He said, Mark aware he had control of the situation, well, as best as he could, even in this madhouse. 

Stepping out of the car at the front of the bar, a few people looked on, and they couldn't have been more foreign if they tried, as Mark nodded to Athena, leading the way as he looked over his shoulder, Ross putting it into first and pulling away, getting ready to get around the back.
"As I'll ever be. Follow my lead, and make sure you keep on your toes. Shit could get real, any second." Mark said, brimming with confidence that came with being wired to this sort of insane shit. The rag was in his pocket, and he knew exactly how this was going to go.

Walking in, it was quiet, with a few locals, and a few sharper dressed men. Some authentic, no-bullshit Mexican music was playing on the stereo, and Mark almost liked it. It was a fairly large bar, but he'd already seen the exits, the prices on the wall, and who to suspect was going to be dangerous when shit got real. Which, in about a minute, it would.

Walking up to the bar, Mark leaned in, as the barman looked over, and said something in Spanish. Mark could only reply with the best he had to give.
"Tequila, por favor. Dos." The man on the other side of the bar replied, as Mark looked to Athena, then around the bar, aware they stuck out like sore thumbs. Any second now, someone was going to approach them, and tell them to fuck off. They were not tourists, they were federales, out for someone, and they hadn't cottoned on who. The barman poured the Tequila, the tension feeling like it could be cut like a knife, as he brought it over, Mark sliding pesos across the bar, sipping then downing the shot with ease, looking back.

"Mas." More, he asked, as the barman poured another. But he'd seen their man in the corner of his eye. Athena had been eye candy, he'd been keen to drink. But he was ready alright. The bottle still lay on the bar, as Mark turned away with it, the barman away grabbing a shot glass, Luis in a corner with two chums.
"Que pasa, senor..." One man said, as Mark walked away, bottle of Tequila in hand, brushing the man off, walking towards Luis, nodding to Athena, as he walked up to the trio, looking over.

"Luis, I'm going to ask you nicely. Come with us, have some Tequila. Or this will get difficult." The Scotsman was clear, the ginger angry bastard now already processing just how this was going to happen. Somehow, it took a psychopathic tendency to just figure it all out and make this work, if this was going to be relatively bloodless, but brutal. The two men sat by his side at the table, and Mark was already calculating the way out, and how long they would have.

"Que?" The man asked, as Mark shook his head.

"I don't do "QUE" for an answer, dickhead." Mark smirked, as he took a lighter from his pocket, then suddenly, did the unthinkable. He smashed the bottle against the man on the left of Luis's head, and the Tequila smashed into pieces, as he chucked his zippo into it, the spark catching the high alcohol content sprit that had mostly gone over him. The man was fucked, but the fire just threw all shit out of the window for everyone, the man with a bottle smashed over his head and near unconciousness now being lit like he had petrol all over him. The other man rose, taking a gun as Mark moved quick, grabbing his arm and twisting it over to force him to drop it, pushing him towards Athena to sort out, as he stopped Luis from running and taking his pistol out, punching him hard in the gut and putting rag to mouth, stuffing it into his jaw, as he yelled through.

"VAMOS!" Mark yelled, as a couple of men got up, grabbing pistols and one even with an Ingram Mac-10, taking Luis's body by the neck as he left the rag in his mouth, and took his own Sig out. 
"Go, go, go!" Mark yelled, as he dragged the man, going slowly and surely into unconciousness, moving out of the stall and away from the other men with guns, who weren't able to comprehend who the fuck to shoot at, or what the fuck was going on. They were clearly his local friends, and didn't want to get him dead, which for Mark, was a convenient part of the plan.

Dragging him, he kicked the fire door open and the loud pounding Mexican music was now muffled, the light coming down hard on this cloudless afternoon, Ross with the window down and the boot open. Mark didn't need to fire a round, but he was ahead, and guessed that Athena may have needed to fire back at them, given he'd moved so quick with Luis in a chokehold and dragged out. Throwing Luis's limping body into the back, he slammed the boot shut, as a couple of men moved out of the front, Mark elegantly using the Rover for cover and popping a couple of blindfire shots, before darting into the passenger's seat, covering Athena's movement back as Ross hit first.

"Fuck, move, move, move!"