Hoping that Emery had not been hurt by the blast, Rye moved blindly through the smoke. A weight suddenly attached itself to his back and before he could shake it off, a garrotte was slipped around his neck. With quick ease, it tightened. Rye's neck was thick with muscles from the field work he had done daily and from the wrestling that he engaged in with Dyson. With is uninjured arm, Rye flailed at the person on his back, clawing for a purchase. His hand tangled in a mass of hair and he yanked. A female flew over his head, disappearing into the smoke.<br/><br/>With single minded focus, he continued wading through the smoke. A breeze stirred causing the smoke to thin in patches and it was then that Rye saw Emery backing wild-eyed away from Stark. Everyone knew Stark. His cold blooded demeanor, his deadly accuracy with any weapon but his devotion to his sledge hammer. Rye chuckled ruefully in his head. The guy must think he is Thor or something with that damn hammer. Rye could see him talking, taunting Emery but still couldn't make out words due to the ringing in his ears.<br/><br/>Time seemed to be swirled with cold molasses as Rye couldn't move quick enough to draw Stark from Emery. He slipped in a patch of blood and gore but regained his balance as that persistent female came charging out from the smoke.