The smoke cleared and the Canadian with the LMG slowly came back around. He jumped a bit to hear someone call, "Friendly coming in." He might be abit strung out. A fight might get anyone at that point. Hayden watched distantly as things were gathered. And it's only as the discussion about potential prisoners being released that he finally starts to move again.

Slowly at any rate.

He pulls the spent drum mag free from the top of the weapon. Hanging it from his harness carefully, then groping for a new mag, managing to find one of the 30 rounders before managing to get it on the gun. He watches then starts to move slowly. Out towards the courtyard. Shaking himself once outside, looking up into the afternoon sun. He took a deep breath then started to turn, looking about getting some bearing in the scrapyard of the courtyard. Cages, real and makeshift. Some of them with piles of...well what looks like rotting flesh. Could be animal, could be human. Red pools of something dry and sticky. Hair and cloth sitting within them. Hayden makes his way towards the raised dais and the throne of scrap the woman had been sitting upon when they first met her. He stomps up there and puts a hand on the throne. Standing up there for a time just staring at it. And then a crash as he hurls the great thing down the stairs to the ground, one of the arm rests bending wickedly. He growls, "We are not the same, you sick twisted bitch!" He snarls and spits down on the throne, "You go to hell. I'll go to fucking purgatory. And while you burn, I'll rest in the cold neutral dark. Burn and waste away you disgusting hag!"

He's beginning to make his way towards the stairs, when he feels something catch his pants leg. He turns LMG at his hip, and looks down.

The shout he gives out, "Sean! Bethan! Kat!" When the other three join him, Hayden is throwing boards and pieces of scrap metal aside, buried under the pile are three large cages, within, about seventeen tired, but angry looking locals in one cage, and in the other two split between them are nine very abused tourists. Ranging from Brits, Canucks, Frenchmen, Scots and a pair of Germans. Looking tired, abused, beaten and very worse for their situation. One of the Canucks was the one to grab his pant leg, and it's that one a young man who's half hugging Hayden through the bars, babbling about the devil woman, "I got ya kid, I got ya. We're gonna get you guys out." He calls again, "Sean! Bethan, Kat! Come on, help me here!" He starts to hammer on the lock to one of the tourists cages with the hammer head end of his tomahawk. he looks over at his teammates, "We gotta get them out. They may not be an army but I'm not leaving them here!"

Meanwhile as the team work, several large SUVs roll into the area. Numbering twelve, each can sit atleast eight. Painted military black with tinted windows all around, looking to be quite well decked out. Maybe even armored. A few of them with a hatch atop them perhaps for someone to pop out and fire from within. It's all quite tidy as a para-military operation goes really. No markings on the SUVs give away who might be within. And through the fighting and the blockades they roll, in a few examples crashing through blockades like they're piles of paper clips rather then solids things found on the streets.

Still though Hayden works and finally with a crack he gets the first cage out, swinging the door open and starting to help the captives inside out of it, "Come on everybody come on, out quick and get out of the way."