[@Amelian Draco][@The Kraken](Liam)
The trio of dirty men that had been holding Liam up had no intentions of letting the young man live-no the planned to kill him, rob him, and eat him (not necessarily in that order.) Still though it was obvious they didn't want to take the chance of getting shot or attracting the undead-for now they could play along. 

"Sure sure, bud. Hand em over." Joe spat while keeping his own gun, a .357 revolver, aimed squarely at Liams face. The skinnier of the quickly snatched the offered ammunition.

"Now how bout you toss us that gun to? Wouldn't want things to escalate here. Afterall we are all-" He was cut off mid sentence as he collapsed to the ground, a seemingly random hatchet protruding from his back. Groaning in pain he writhed in his ever growing puddle of blood. 

Before the fallen Joe's cohorts could respond (The two looking shocked at Liam as if he had somehow magically thrown a boomerang hatchet) a stream of fire literally shot out of the palm of some newcomer-the arc of flame landing on beanpoles dirty white shirt, sending the man into a screaming frenzy as he did his best to put the flames out. Sadly, instead of "stop drop and roll", he seemed to be trying the less effective method of "running around screaming." Needless to say his attempt failed. 

The last remaining figure seemed to be determined to just get the hell out of here, obviousley not wanting a fight now that the tables were turned. He riddled the car Liam and David hid behind, the piece of cover David had thrown the two behind ripping and shredding as the Uzi rattled away-the attacker doing his best to run away down the street in the process.

--
[@The Kraken](Kennedy)

Bushwhacker felt an extremely odd an somewhat painful expression play across his face as Kennedys voice crackled into his earpiece. Lifting his left hand to his mask he lightly caressed the area that was his right cheekbone, trying to pinpoint what this odd feeling was that had penetrated beneath his mask-then he suddenly realized (genuinely shocked) that he was smiling. Thank goodness no one could see his face. "No shit?" He asked back, clear disbelief in his voice. He couldn't believe The Maker was still running around out there-talk about an asset to bring in.

[i]No[/i] He had to remind himself [i]He's more then just some fucking Asset. He's a friend.[/i] [b]Was a friend you mean?[/b] Another, harsher voice chimed in. [b]Remember, UnderDog was a friend too. Look how that turned out, you pathetic fuck.[/b]

"Shut up." He barked coldly to the empty catwalk he stood upon, the inner monologue instantly ceasing as he went over everything Kennedy had told him-his mind rapidly going over each and every possible and potential outcome if Kennedy did get involved. Of course it had to be fucking Scabs.

"Listen Kennedy." He chimed back into the radio that sat in his ear. "If I know The Maker he should have a trick or two up his sleeve. As for the stranger, well, not worth risking a super over." He stated factual in his usual monotone voice, as if he wasn't talking about peoples lives. "Just enjoy the show for now. But keep an eye on The Maker...Things start looking dicey, go on and help the old man out."