Bushwhacker huffed and puffed as he ran his way across the trash strewn parking lot just outside the giant casino he had been calling home for the last three weeks-Kevlar might have been the best for stopping bullets and zombie bites but it sure as hell made you work up a sweat. At least that's what a normal person would have thought, Bushwhacker though honestly just felt naked when not clad head to toe in his custom made black kevlar outfit-hell, he even still wore the full faced leather mask that was practically a heatstroke waiting to happen.

In his mind though he felt great-the cool air coming in just off the river offering his tightly armored body a slight moment of relief. For the moment being his mind was focused souley on the task at hand.

HWACK

The sickening sound of steel cutting and crushing through bone rang out as he effortlessly dispatched a shambling corpse with what appeared to be a jet black medium sized (and abnormally thick) machete, the undead creature having gotten a little to close for comfort. He just had to finish setting his last charge and then he'd be set to run back inside and enjoy the show. Finally reaching the far end of the building he double checked to make sure the coast was clear before bending over and fiddling with a large coffee can sized tube. After a few minutes of playing with the odd object he took a step back to admire his handiwork-seemingly satisfied he ran off in the direction he had come, actually laughing along the way. The last months worth of work was about to pay off.

Mainstream media (what was left of it) would tell you that this absurd strain of Zombie Virus had originated a mere three weeks ago-but that was an utter fucking lie in the Bushwhackers mind. You see not only did this world renowned self made hero monitor the happenings in his own city like a hawk but likewise he made sure to keep tabs of the goings on around the world-after all as his father always said, shit rolls down hill. It was because of this maddening commitment to justice and safety that he had not only picked up the first reports of deranged group atackings occurring in both Southern Iraq and Israel but he had actually been able to follow the string of ensuing outbreak-the myriad of interconnected news stories about “enraged or insane mobs of people” having been somewhat easy to follow once he knew what he was looking for. On day two he knew this growing spread of violence was highly unlikely to be contained (even so he sent word to all the higher ups he knew government and military wise; both in the states and worldwide.)

Of all the contingency plans Bushwhacker had created (and he had created QUITE a few) none of them had ever factored in the possibility of undead zombie virus. The fact of which made him kick himself in the head most nights-after all if Blue Tessla could shoot lightning from his fucking hand why would it be so far fetched that a strain of virus might mutate enough to control corpses? It was just poor planning on his part.

Upon the realization and firm belief that he was witnessing the start of an outbreak the likes of which humanity had never seen Bushwhacker quickly went about using his vast resources to create a place that he believed would better whether the coming storm-he was quick to accept the fact that he would not be able to save everyone but like Noah in the old testament maybe he could save just enough. Maybe.

He definitely couldn't do it without the help of other supers though-of that he had become painfully aware as he poured his heart and soul into the various mathematical algorithms and theorems he had come up with in the ensuing day-of which all the results pointed to the fact that without help from certain “X factors” the community of survivors he envisioned was unsustainable. It was because of that reason he had found himself out front of his Casino and hotel resort at 10:30PM during an all to real zombie apocalypse-but if he didn't finish what he had come out here to do there absolutely 0 chance of hope for the city-maybe even humanity.

Luckily Bushwhacker, who for all intents and purposes was in actuality a completely and utterly normal human, was able to reach his desired destination without anymore trouble. Reaching the opposite end of the building from where he had left his coffee can like explosive charge the Bushwhacker quickly clambered over a guard rail onto what resembled an old dirty window cleaning unit; the ancient invention resembling a railed in catwalk with four large safety cables connected to the roof that allowed him to enter and exit his safe haven without opening any ground doors-a very useful tool when some of those undead bastards could run at you faster then an Olympic runner.

Quickly getting back to his feet The Bushwhacker wasted no time in operating the little panel that stood up to about his chest-the simple buttons and levers allowing the window cleaning unit to move not only up and down but side to side as well. Recently he had been coming and going from what he had designated as the “exit room” which was in actuality an old hotel room on the third floor-Reversing the way the door opened and locked followed by quickly smashing the window out was all it took to turn it into a rather effective entry and exit way. From what he had seen so far even the fastest of zombies, the type that contained a minuscule amount of power when compared to the real Blur, could at best only take a running jump that would more often then not wind up with them simply bashing their brains in against the second story riot glass windows.

“vaaaa-riiiiiiiiiiii” The sturdy catwalk unit squealed to life as Bushwhacker wheeled himself upwards on the lowest control setting-the faster he went the louder the lift sounded which meant more zombies coming to investigate the noise; because of that reasoning he never went above “2” on the speed dial. Instead of getting off at the broken window that lead to the third floor of his hotel Bushwhacker continued to work the controls upwards-he was hell bent on getting a good seat for the show.

After a few minutes of patiently climbing skyward in his mechanical lift Bushwhacker reached the roof of the building as the lift he rode in snugly found its way into the company approved safety harness, locking into place with a loud metallic “Ca-LUNK”

Of all the places in the massive Casino he called home this one by far had the best view of the City: from the top of the sprawling twenty story building he could make out the entirety of the vast manufacturing district to the North and the oddly creepy empty theme park to the East-just down the river he could make out what had been a rival casino, the massive building resembling an old world steamboat. All things considered it was a fairly good spot to take shelter, not only were they a good stones throw away from any major suburban area but the surrounding manufacturing district provided ample supplies for both survival and maintenance.

Laying down on the cold metallic surface (which he totally couldn't feel beneath his costume) the Bushwhacker stared up into the sky; momentarily admiring the view of an unobstructed starlight sky. It was the type of beautiful sight that made one pause and recollect; Bushwhacker often coming to the conclusion that Earth was probably better off full of zombies then humans. Tearing himself away from this dangerous train of thought he pulled what looked like a garage door opener out from the confines of the jet black utility belt strapped to his waste.

With the flick of a button the quite night erupted in a somewhat audible 'put put put put' sound as all the charges Bushwhacker had meticulously laid for the past hour set off simultaneously-the result of his homemade detonator.

“ALIVE INSIDE! SAFE COMMUNITY!” The words filled the air in a sparkling display of red and blue explosions, as the words started to fade another volley of makeshift fireworks filled the air exploding into a giant green emerald arrow that pointed downwards towards the casino. Now all he had to do was wait and hopefully a handful of other enhanced individuals would see his message and make their way here; after all there wasn't much left of the city, he figured whoever did see his little message would inevitably make their way here-super or otherwise.

As he watched the green emerald arrow fade away into the night sky he felt no joy or success-instead all he could think about were the events that had unfolded in the past month, the maddening memories flashing through his mind like an old back and white film:

Like most civilians around the globe the people of Kansas City had been extremely slow to react to the vast reports of both infectious outbreaks and mass rioting spreading across Europe and Africa-like many they had believed themselves to be safe within the isolated bubble that was America. Usually this would have been the case; only it turned out this new newfangled strain of virus seemed to be crossing mountains and oceans with little to no effort-a problem only compounded by the interwoven airlines worldwide. It was by sheer paranoia and the way Bushwhacker monitored world news that he had gotten whiff of what was happening in time to do anything about it-and even his normally well crafted plans crumbled within weeks.

But now he had a new plan, and this time things would be different. He'd make sure of it.

fwip

The muffled popping noise briefly sounded in the morning air as yet another shambling corpse had its head seemingly spontaneously explode-sending the rotting creature sprawling to the trash riddled asphalt that made up the Star Hotels parking lot. Three stories up lay the cause of this random zombie cleansing; Bushwhackers black armor clad body just visible behind a large sleek looking rifle that he was working with the skill and efficiency of a man that completely knew what he was doing.

He sat perched on the same catwalk like window cleaning contraption that he had been using the night before as he surveyed the parkinglot. From a higher view it became clear that he wasn't just randomly shooting zombies-instead he was doing his best to keep clear what looked like a myriad of red arrows that had been spray painted on the ground; all of which lead directly to the perch below him.

Apparently he had not only set up the nighttime display to draw attention to his location but he had also taken the time to spray paint the bulk of connecting City Streets and parking lot. Afterall he didn't expect survivors to just be able to pinpoint his location from one brief firework display.

Lillah

The message was out. Lillah wasn't a super but she made a great scout: lean, unassuming, quick, and so it was one of her expectations to keep an eye out for others--wanted or otherwise. And as the fireworks lit up the sky, she was already out and looking for stragglers to help escort to the casino. Zombies were attracted to noise and color and stimulation in general, so the buddy system was pretty important in post-outbreak America. She had been followed the spray paint guides in their opposite direction, hoping to meet someone following them, but now she slowed to a stop at a street corner.

Her light brown eyes gazed about slowly, and she pulled the single barrel shotgun off her back. And waited quietly, attentive for any sign of movement or sound. The young woman wasn't tense--in fact, her slumped shoulders and lazy frown indicated boredom if any feeling. After several minutes, with no sign of movement, Lillah slung the shotgun over her shoulder and started moving again. When she came to another stop, it was at another corner--with various abandoned streets all leading to her. She was visible to anyone--or anything--in any of them.

So she dropped the shotgun back into her hands and waited. Again.

---

Vivian

Fresh blood pooled around the body, his blank eyes widened at the fireworks above. Vivian stood over the man, gaze raised at the message in the sky. "Poor boy, just missed your chance," she commented as she holstered the pistol under her jacket. She crouched and pulled his bag off his limp body, pulling it open and dropping its contents onto the grass. They were in the park; she had been warming up to the guy and the wanker had finally let his guard down around her. His mistake, she thought now, shaking the new water bottle before taking a swig.

Her nose wrinkled and she coughed, barely keeping the liquid down. That wasn't water. She sniffed the opening and looked again at the plain plastic bottle. "Nice," she decided, capping the alcohol and dropping it into her own bag. Everything else? Useless: a wedding ring, a family photo, and a dead cell phone. What the fuck was this guy even doing? she thought, then narrowed her eyes at the corpse. Probably planning on mooching off me, she realized, standing up again as she slung her canvas bag over her back.

Brown eyes rose again to the sky where the message had been and she started in that general direction.

Kansas City, David found it ironic that he was in another city named after it's state as he walked through the suburbs. The city look like every other city he had been through, cars in the middle of the street, random half-eaten bodies lay on the ground, and the undead wonder mindlessly. He was with a small group of survivors, but they wanted to avoid the city. Something about a number of the local supers being turned making the city more dangerous, but that was the story with most major cities.

A series of loud bangs brought his attention to the sky. “ALIVE INSIDE! SAFE COMMUNITY!” appeared overhead fallowed by an arrow. David couldn't remember the last time he saw fireworks. He wasn't the only one enjoying the show. A handful of undead wondered onto the road, first looking at the sky then turning to him. He chuckled as he pulled out a hatchet, from his trenchcoat, that he had found a while back. The closest one moaned and stumbled forward. David rushed it and brought the hatchet down on it's forehead. It slumped to the ground as another came from his left. Sidestepping it as it lunges at him, he swings the hatchet hitting it on the back of the head. Two more came this time. Leaving the hatchet stuck in it, David reach into to a pocket and pulled out a metal lighter. Lighting it he then held his other hand over the flame for a moment. A ball of flame formed in his hand as the two undead came closer. David moved his hand in a fast slash movement and the flame blasted the two on their backs. He then held his hand out with an open palm. The clothes one them had caught fire, and now David forced the flames to cover them and increase in heat. In a moment all that was left was ash and bone.

Pulling his hatchet out of the head he left it in and cleaning it, he faced where the fireworks had gone off. That light would bring more than just survivors, he thought to himself. David didn't know how he felt about joining a new group, but it might be smart to at least investigate it. Setting the hatchet in a loop on the inside of his trenchcoat, David set off in the direction of the the fireworks.

William spent many nights awake. He found that he slept too soundly at night, so instead he slept during the day when he was a much lighter sleeper. Even then, however, he only allowed himself so much sleep at a time. This night was no different as he surveyed the broken skyline. The higher up you were, the safer you tended to be, William had figured this out early on, so when the safe house he had been in previously had fallen The Maker made himself a home atop the carousel.

He had muffled the electric motor that turned the wheel, disabled all the lights, and moved the control box from where it was mounted on the ground and worked it into the unit he now called home. The next thing he had done was set up solar panels he had scavenged from around town and wired them into batteries he took out of hybrid cars that were left in the parking lot. The carousel was powered by this contraption, and its quiet operation helped to not draw any more Zombies near. It worked well, up to that point very few Zombies had even attempted to climb up the frame after him. Even when his coughing fits had lead more of the horde towards him then he was happy to see.

He thought briefly of his daughter. She was the first person that he knew that turned, and she was the first that he had to put down for good. But, in life, in her childhood - she loved this old park. It was alive in Shoemaker's memories, just as she was, bright and vibrant. His eyes glared out into the darkness. His eyes shifted to the right as the words faded from view. He didn't need to read them, when he saw where the arrow pointed he knew what it was about.

"Trying again, aye Bushwacker?" The Maker growled, he slid the welding mask over his face and flipped the switch, the electric motor hummed and brought him down towards the ground. The zombies in the vicinity drew closer. He stopped the motor when he was about six feet off the ground. He whistled a single quick note, he opened the door to his unit and waited for the Zombies to come near. Crouching low he started cracking the skulls open of the Zombies that drew within striking range for him. It would be a long trek through the night to get there, but if William knew Bushwacker it would be worth the effort. Once the Zombies were dispatched in the immediate area, he jumped down, closed the door with his tongs and made his way, quietly, carefully towards the casino.

Put put put put put put put.
BANG. POP. BANG.

The shots rang out like a nostalgic Fourth of July celebration. Flashes of red and blue filled the sky, causing Kennedy to reminisce about the days of old when she would run about the streets with a sparkler in one hand and a party popper in the other, the hot July night causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stick to her with just the slightest coating of sweat as a cool breeze would run through the plains.

Another crack of a firework brought her back to this reality. The one where she could turn into a tiger or a mutant or a fucking T-Rex for that matter, and the one where the dead walked the streets as the living once did. The AR resting comfortably in her hands reminded her that they were a part of a different world now, one that hopefully had more survivors than the few that had been hold up in this casino.

She did as the others were tasked to do, cautiously acting as a scout or rescue unit in the delightful event that Bushwhacker's little explosive display had drawn the attention of anyone else around the City that had managed to survive. Kennedy could already hear the moans and grunts of the zombies beginning to get agitated by the loud blasts above. The black rifle in her hands was steadily brought to her shoulder as she stepped forward, ready to fight whatever may come her way.

---

BANG. POP. BANG.

The sudden detonations shook Liam from the sleep that he had ever so briefly fallen into. From the sixth floor of a now abandoned apartment complex, he jolted awake and in one swift motion raised the 9mm that had been resting in his palms to scan the immediate area for any threats. An unnatural glow came flowing in from the windows of the apartment he had taken refuge in, casting an eerie aura across the young man's exhausted face. Dark bags now lay underneath eyes that once held a bright green glow, and a dark shadow of facial hair was taking over a face that used to hold a clean shaven and sharply chiseled jaw. The glow from the fireworks outside almost made the man look like he belonged with the crowd of undead out in the streets.

Blinking several times to clear his vision, Liam was finally able to read what the bright words spelled out across the sky before they disappeared into a faint glowing shadow across the star spangled sky. Survivors? It made him skeptical, especially considering the amount of trouble they had gone through to draw attention not only to themselves, but to every zombie likely within a five mile radius. Still, he was running low on supplies and he was unfamiliar with the area. He had to leave his truck behind some miles back in a horde situation, and now traveling by foot, he didn't see a better option.

Cautiously, he checked that his pistol clip was full and that his second clip was ready to go before he grabbed his pack and headed for the fire escape. The road was beginning to almost churn with zombie activity, a few well placed shots from the first level of the fire escape cleared the way enough for Liam to hit the pavement with a clear path and a running start towards the source of the fireworks show.

@The Kraken(Kennedy)
"Hey Kennedy." Bushwhackers monotone voice crackled over a radio sitting not far off from the young woman. Of the fourhundred some people that had made up their growing community only Bushwhacker, Kennedy, and Vivian were left-it spoke volumes to how competent the girls were in his mind. Even better she followed Bushwhackers directions to a T-which is how she had wound up playing lookout on the roof of the hotel. "You got eyes on anyone yet? So far I don't have eyes on anything-except shamblers, of course." He let off another shot, putting a corpse permanently to the ground. "And let me know if you see any scabs or runners. So far we've been pretty lucky." Although he had spent almost a week alone with the woman he called Kennedy it was clear he held no personal affection for her. In all honesty he didn't entirely trust the woman-which was saying alot, when at the end of the day she was actually the individual he trusted most.

@Kidd(Vivian)@Mr Rage
As the two supers made their way towards the Casino they had no idea they were on a collision course for one another-the sets of arrows they had been following converging on the same large city street, the four lane road stretching for about 3 miles directly to The Star Hotel and Casino. Like most streets this one was also rather empty save for the randomly strewn about bodies and trash-a fair number of car wrecks, stalled, and abandoned vehicles littering the eerily silent road.

No sooner had they caught sight of each other and exchanged a few words were the zombies upon them-a runners mangled body literally exploding forth from the window of a nearby store as two scabs-with their bulletproof skin-drug themselves from the wreckage of some nearby cars. Less worrisome were the handful of sh amblers pouring from the broken storefront window.

@The Kraken(Liam)@Amelian Draco
Surviving his dash from the fire escape Liam navigated his way to safety with the talent of a man somewhat trained in militaristic engagements-setting off in the direction of the firework display. Just as the sprawling building came into view Liam was taken by surprise, three rather dirty but well armed men randomly bursting forth from the back end of a van with tinted windows. It was clear just by looking at them, from their grime covered bodies to the sick look in their eyes, that they were the type that had been surviving the outbreak by preying off of others. "Lookie Joe, told ya them fireworks would bring us somethin good!" A skinny beenpole of a man shouted at the largest of the group while keeping his double barrel trained on Liam. Little did the trio notice that David, the ex hero, had just so happened to make his way onto the same street-practically turning a corner and arriving behind the van. He could just make out Liam being held up by an unknown number of men in the vans backend.

@Kidd(Lilah)
Lilah, one of the soul survivors of the original Casino Community, deftly made her way around the infected city streets. Bushwacker, the often times aggravating leader of the three person community, had sent her out to investigate Childrens Mercy Hospital. The large building she now sat in front of, silently awaiting the telltale sign of a zombie-luckily after a few moments she heard nothing but silence; allowing her to venture past the man made (and extremely gore riddled) barricades infront of the hospital.

For the past two weeks the whole group had been able to make out the large building that was Childrens Mercy Hospital each night- the rather tall structure illuminating in the night like a beacon. Unlike The Star, which Bushwhacker had instilled a fierce “no visible light policy” at night, the hospital would fill the night with zombie attracting light. Bushwhacker assured both Kennedy and Lilah (in one of their brief encounters, he normally kept himself locked away) that this was just the hospitals generators kicking on of their own accord-nonetheless he had sent Lilah out to quickly scout the location on the off chance that there was a surviving community there-if not she was to evaluate the medical supplies left and determine if a future supply run there would be worth it.

Vivian

Vivian had used her last bullet to kill McCorpse; she kept the gun, of course, all she needed was some 9mm and she'd be set to use it again. And despite this, she wasn't worried. In her hand she carried a...street sign. Attached to a pole lighter than one that would keep it in the ground. She must have switched it out herself, and the layers of rope kept her art together. The street sign once said "WASHINGTON ST" but the edges have been sharpened, creating a post apocalyptic glaive for the young woman to use and only leaving "ashingto" readable--and barely. It was free of visible blood stains; she kept it clean.

Then she stopped. A welding mask. Creepy. Her hand had twitched at the sight of the man, instinct drawing it to the gun under her jacket--then it slowly dropped. Didn't want to spook the psycho. However, She had barely said hello when the crash of shattering glass filled the night air, and her gaze flickered to the runner just as he was upon her. Fear filled her eyes, but her body moved on instinct. She had been in real fights against living (but not for long) people--supers--so a zombie? Albeit a fast one? Blood splattered on her clothes as he fell in two pieces before her, both her hands on her polearm.

"Well shit," she gasped, the fear fading and adrenaline kicking in only after the kill. "You can kill me after we handle these guys, m'kay?" It was only then her foreign accent was obvious, not that it warranted much concern.

---

Lillah

Just the generators my ass, Lillah thought, as she carefully navigated the fleshy barricades. She avoided staring, feeling goosebumps rise on her skin and her knuckles turn white as she gripped the shotgun. Still, her face remained stone, somber. She walked into the hospital, lowering her boots quietly as she did. The hospital was oddly quiet despite the lights being on as she explored. She peeked around corners before going down them, and she would occasionally slip behind a closed door to get an inventory on potential supplies. Most places were pretty much untouched or in need of a passcode or electric pass to get in.

However she came upon a door only cracked open, its lock broken. Her perpetual scowl deepened and she slowly moved closer, peeking in...The room was of modest size...and empty. Nudging the door open further with her barrel, she found it was a place to keep various medications. Well, of course someone would break in here. But who? She stopped in the middle of turning back, and her gaze scanned the shelves carefully. Whatever she was searching for wasn't there, and she rolled her eyes before leaving the room to continue her venture.

With each room and hallway explored, it appeared this place was empty and she grew tired of having her guard up for nothing... So it lowered. And she turned a corner freely-- and saw a figure. A slow, lazy figure shuffling toward her. She jumped in surprise, gripping her gun with both hands again as she took aim. The bang bounced off the walls, making it seem even louder than the shotgun already was as she shot at him.

@Kidd(Lilah)
For the past few weeks Tod had found himself following a peculiar pattern-having been stuck inside his own mental prison he would spend each day wandering the halls of Childrens Mercy Hospital looting and scavenging the vast number of fresh corpses from whatever zombie assault had occured the night before. Like moths to a flame each night the undead horde would come, the mindless killing machines unable to ignore the call that was the large well lit hospital amidst the blackened ruins of the city. Each night they would come, and each night he would fight them until there were none left. At this point he genuinely couldn't believe he was alive; it was some sort of sick cosmic joke-the hero that could only save himself.

So, much like every other day, he had been wandering the halls of the gore covered hospital high as a kite off a handful of some unknown pills-whatever they were they sure made him feel loopy and, more importantly, slightly forget the events of the outbreak.

Needless to say he was slightly caught off guard as a solid shotgun slug tore through the thick fabric of his crusty brown leather jacket and T shirt-the large softball sized hole exposing his muscular arm and shoulder blade beneath. Miraculously the direct hit seemed to leave him completely uninjured for the most part-the only sign of trauma being a large purplish bruise swelling up at the moment. It looked painful, but the honest truth was he had so much adrenaline and drugs coursing through his veins that he merely felt like he'd been flicked in the shoulder blade-a flick that had knocked him off of his feet and onto the dirty corpse strewn ground.

Groaning he drug himself halfway off the ground-his hazy eyes locking with Lilahs from behind his tight dark red leather mask. "Nice shot." He comically quipped in a rather gruff and somewhat delirious voice while turning his gaze to the wound. He had to fight the urge to laugh-here he had been trying to die each night, and then this good Samaritan comes along and shoots him-only he just so happened to have activated his power two minutes prior, leaving him somewhat bulletproof. It looked like Gods sense of humour struck again.

@Tuxedo Fox
Lillah
Her target fell to the ground and, but slowly rose again with a bitter comment. She lowered her gun, mouth falling open in exasperation. Oh my god, I just shot someone, Lillah thought fearfully. "Oh my god," she repeated aloud. "I'm-I'm so sorry--are you okay?" In her worry for this man, she slung the shotgun over her back and approached quickly. Her eyebrows furrowed together as she searched his body and finally settled on the bruised shoulder. Not bloody or torn or broken shoulder. Simply bruised. As if the mask wasn't enough of a give away, she asked, "You're a super hero? Oh thank god." She released a shaky breath and ran a hand down her face, head shaking.

Lillah wasn't the most emotionally intelligent human being, but killing a living person? That'd fuck her up--something she never thought about until this moment, and she ignored him for a moment to regain her composure. Finally, she looked to him, and narrowed her light brown eyes. "MinuteMan?" she guessed, the waver out of her voice. In her panic, it didn't click, but now she realized that something was off about him. And it wasn't his super powers. Her mind wandered back to the hall where she found the room full of drugs, and her eyes wandered around at the bodies and the lights then back to his hazy eyes...

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her scowl returning.

@Kidd(Lilah)
Tod seemed to be blocking out most of what Lilah had been saying; his blurry eyes focused solely on the hole in his clothes that his right hand was now preoccupied with touching-as if he couldn't believe his favorite jacket had received even more abuse.

"MinuteMan?"

The sound of the strangers voice made Tod reach up and feel the hardened leather that encased his face-as if to confirm the womens wild accusation that he was indeed a hero. She followed up the apparently surprising possibility with a question of just what he was doing here. The part of him that was still sane thought it rather odd the woman asked so many questions for someone that just shot a stranger-but then again this girl was obviousley crazy, afterall he thought, she had been able to recognize such a low level hero like Minuteman.

"I uh-" He cut off, his rough voice grunting as he fully pulled himself to his feet. Dusting himself off he continued on. "-I was just...Well, I don't exactly know. Its...its been a few rough weeks, ya know?" He finished with a brokenhearted grin as he talked to Lilah like they had just bumped into each other at the laundrymat as opposed to the copious amounts of corpses, blood, and body parts that surrounded them.

The radio that sparked to life next to Kennedy caught her attention, drawing it away from the falsely busy streets below as she reached for it. She took the small short wave device in her hand, while her other raised a pair of binoculars to her eyes. "Nothing yet, just looks like-" She paused her speaking when her vision passed a pair of bodies that had a different look about them than the rigid and uncoordinated movements of the shamblers below. "Hold that thought."

Kennedy set the radio back down beside her and closed her eyes to focus in silence for a moment. When she opened her eyes again, they were abnormally large and fiercely yellow. The binoculars took a place next to the radio, as she had no need for them anymore with the eagle sharp vision she now possessed. Now, she could make out the bodies of two people, one of which she recognized by his welder's mask. The other, a female who was soon ambushed by a runner, was unfamiliar to her.

Kennedy picked up the radio again and her voice cracked over the line. "Looks like our friendly neighbor The Maker might be in need of a little help, I count one other survivor plus him and-" Let's see, that runner's done for. "- two scabs closing in on them. They're pretty far out still." She didn't know what Bushwhacker's course of action would be, but she didn't want to act without his say-so. It had been hard enough without being hold up in this fortress, the last thing she wanted was to get kicked out for pissing him off.

---

Liam had ran through the motions as he made his way through the wracked city street. Point, shoot, slice, run. It was as if he were running a play in a football game over and over again as he moved along. When he could, he spared bullets and used the K-BAR knife at his hip to gut the shamblers that stretched at him with pussing limbs. His feet moved quickly and reliably beneath him, almost in a mechanical motion.

Just as what he assumed to be the source of the beckoning call came into view, he was taken off guard as the back doors to an assumed to be abandoned van burst open to reveal a handful of beat thugs. When the gun was pulled on him, he immediately threw his hands up in the air.

"Whoa whoa whoa." He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. "Easy now, can we put the gun down and talk about this like civilized human beings?" The words Liam spoke probably did him no good, but they served to buy him a little time to think himself out of this situation. Unfortunately, staring down the barrel of a gun left little room for thinking, especially when the fight would be three on one.

"Look, I don't want any trouble... I'm just a kid, I don't want to die, alright?" He said, trying to show the worry on his face and play off of sympathy. "Is it the bullets you want? I found them in this car a couple streets back, here, take them." That was a lie, but he handed over the ammo anyway and hoped it would be enough to walk away from this. He should've known those fireworks were too good to be true...

David had moved casually through the city, it would seem that the fireworks have drawn the attention of most of the undead. He only had to deal with two undead both caught under an overturned car. Turning a corner he began to hear voices behind the other side of a van. Dropping into a crouch, David moved behind a car to get a better view. He didn't like what he saw, from what he could see a man held a scruffy younger man at gunpoint. He could hear what he guessed where two more on the other side of the van maybe more. The guy seemed to be trying to bribe his way out of the situation. If David wanted to save this guy he would need to be quick and smart.

Pulling his hatchet out of it's loop, David crept around the side of the car to get a better angle on the group. He could just barely see the arm of another outlaw on the opposite side of the van. Don't think this could get any better, he thought, tempted to keep moving forward. In a fluid motion, David through his hatchet at the man pointing his gun. It rotated once before hitting him square in the back. As he fell, David pulled out his lighter and put two fingers on the flame as he lit it. Sidestepping to see the man behind the van, he pointed his two fingers at him. After a moment a line of fire shot out and hit the man in the chest, knocking him down. Without thinking David charged towards the the scruffy man, jumping at the last second to knock him out of the line of sight of anyone who was left.

@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.

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

"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."

@Tuxedo Fox

Lillah crossed her arms when he answered, her eyes wandering around the hall again. She swallowed and watched him as she thought; would this guy be okay to bring back to the casino? He didn't seem much like a hero in this moment. He seemed...gone. "Yeah, I know," Lillah agreed, eyebrows furrowing together. She awkwardly fell into silence. She didn't know how to deal with this, she didn't get people or why they do the things they do. She had her own problems but she wasn't getting high and fighting a bunch of zombies for the fuck of it. Internally, she was screaming and heat was slowly creeping up her neck and cheeks. Externally, she tried saying anything.

"Okay, we need to leave. You're attracting unwanted attention and that's dangerous and stupid. Shut off the lights and come with me," she said. "The casino is being built up as a safe haven again. There's a couple people. But supplies, too.

"And I'm sorry I shot you--I should've been paying attention and I wasn't. And you freaked me out." Lillah glanced away then back to him, shoulders dropping a bit.

Another person? The maker thought as he saw Vivian come around the corner. No worries, we are both heading the same direction, safety in numbers. The makeshift weapon in her hand caught his eye, even more so when she used it to cleave a Zombie right in two. She seemed capable enough herself to not be a detriment. As the shattered glass opened up the way for more shamblers to make their way out into the street. Shoemaker turned towards the sound of scraping metal in time to see the two scabs making their way out of the wreckage.

"Not sure I'll have time to kill ya, even if I had wanted to," Maker said, his voice was tinny and flat through the welding mask. The runner taken care of by his new 'companion' William decided to focus on dealing with at least one of the scabs. Not known for anything other then being too hard to kill because of their metal skin, they were right up the hobby-smiths alley. Many a time had his tongs and hammer been used to force a shape into metal and brass was easier then most to manipulate with brute force. Taking a deep breath the maker charged at the closest scab with his tongs open and in each hand. First he slammed the tongs into the abominations neck pinning him against the same wreckage that it had pulled itself from. He locked the tongs so he could hold them in one hand and keep them tight around the Zombie's neck. He un-holstered the 30 pound blacksmith hammer at his hip and brought it down squarely over the eye of the metal skinned foe. A sound something between a clang and thud came from the Zombies head. One blow wasn't enough as it struggled against the tongs at its neck. A second strike, the same sound again. Giving a cough of effort, this was really starting to get too hard for a man his age, he repeated the blow again and again until finally the sound changed to something different, something wetter. A few more well placed blows he would let his weight off of the corps and search for whichever foe was closest to him now.

He had taken too long with the last one, he already knew.

"Coulda fooled me," Vivian said, watching as he turned on the scabs. She had only one run-in with a scab and she had been the one who fled. She was not equipped with the strength or supplies to deal with skin like that. So, as the young woman left him to deal with the scabs, she turned on the shamblers so she could buy him some time. Hell, maybe him and the scabs would take each other out and she could loot the body after--but that would only happen if she focused on the task at hand.

It would be an easy one for and even easier if she could use her powers. However, so close to a potential safe zone, she didn't want to risk giving herself away. So as a shambler grabbed at her with a fleshy arm, she only stepped back, then forward to slice through its neck. Then she moved onto the next one, not allowing herself to stand still or else the shamblers--although slow and utterly stupid--could eventually gang up on her. She exercised an eerie cool control over the area, a zombie not stepping an inch out of her perception or expectation. And with each head to drop, she picked up the speed, a grin slowly manifesting on her face as she twirled and twisted her weapon. Step, slash, slash, turn, step, slash, step, turn, slash--

The dance quickly ended and she flicked the blood off her blade, a new light in her eyes--then a flicker of realization. Oh right, she thought, checking on the Maker. He had finally beat through the scab's skull but just in time for the other one to grow a little too close. "Look out!" Vivian warned. Even with his life in danger, she didn't dare teleport. Instead, she closed the distance with her short legs. And half way there, she realized she wouldn't make it on foot. Oh well, she thought.

Look out! The shout came from Vivian as he finished up with the gore from the first scab. The second scab came in too close. He didn't have much time to think about his options, no real chance to counterattack, his best bet was a defensive move. He had forced himself into a corner with the vehicle wreckage that had hidden the scabs from view, so he couldn't simple duck and cover. The next best thing he had at his disposal was the corpse of the first scab. William grabbed the corps' arm and gave it a rough tug, drawing it directly into the path of the open jaws of the oncoming Zombie. Giving him something to gnaw on for a moment would give William the chance to counterattack. With his opportunity available to him now, The Maker once again wielded his tongs to grab hold of the lower jaw on the scab. With the sickening force of a man who had worked his whole life in construction and hobbying as a blacksmith he twisted the tongs attempting to rip loose the lower jaw of the remaining scab. The crunch was audible, though it remained attached. William tried it again this time with a grunt of exertion to aid in the effort, which was rewarded by nothing but a wheezing coughing fit.

Getting more leverage by putting one of his steel toed booted feet on the scabs shoulder he reaffirmed his grip and with one final jerk tore the lower jaw free from the scab. He tossed the jaw through the air with the effort, dropped his tongs with a clatter and with one large double handed swing of the hammer, The Maker delivered an uppercut blow through the roof of the mouth that sent the now liquified brains out of every other hole left in the head.

Breathing heavy he shook the gore from his hammer, picked up his tongs and did the same. He let out a sigh with the effort of bending over to grab his tongs. Well, The Maker said looking over at Vivian now that the immediate danger had passed, The names William Shoemaker, they call me The Maker for short. I imagine you're on your way towards that light show from last night. I'm headed there myself, shall we keep each other company for a while as we walk?

Of course he didn't mean with conversation, or anything else for that matter, but talking in the open was dangerous, the undead hordes were drawn to sound more than anything. Not waiting for a reply he started walking down the road in the direction of the arrows.

Liam clenched his jaw together as the man pried for more than just the bullets he offered up as payment. A large part of him knew that it wouldn't be enough to just walk away, but he had hoped that playing on his youth would have at least tugged at a few heart strings. Unfortunately, these thugs weren't the type to take pity.

Liam went to slowly reach for his gun as the other man was asking for it, but when his speech was suddenly cut off, Liam halted his movement and watched as the man fell in a fluid motion. A hatchet protruded from the man's back as if a phantom had attacked in a whim. The thoughts that began racing through Liam's mind were cut off by a blast of fire that came from his side. He tried to move out of the way, but a heavy weight hit him and sent him to the ground before he felt himself being pulled behind a separate car. The sounds of the other two men screaming could be heard.

"What the hell!"

Bullets began to spray the car that his back was against, and he turned to grab the gun only to realize he had handed over all of his shells except for the five that remain in the clip. As the last bastard unloaded his sub-machine gun, Liam finally looked to his side to see what, or rather who, had tackled him to the ground and pulled him out of the way. He locked eye contact for a brief moment until he heard the bullet spray stop, at which time he turned to unload three bullets at the fleeing SOB. Unable to tell whether he hit him or not, but satisfied that he wouldn't be returning, he turned back to the man in the trench coat beside him.

"Thanks for saving my ass." He eyed the man a moment, skeptical of why he may have done so. "Liam," he stuck his hand out to shake. You could tell a lot by a man's handshake... like if they intended to kill you.

@Amelian Draco

David had stood up when the man next to him began firing. He held lit his lighter just encase he could get a shot, but the he was to far away to be sure. Now he looks this man, Laim, in the eye as he held out a hand. He took his hand, taking hold of it with a strong grasp. "Blackflag the Pryofaker, or now that those names don't matter, David." Letting go, David walked over to grab his hatchet, "to many of people like these idiots now adays." He pulled the hatchet out of the man's back and put it away, then looked Laim over. Strong build, scruff face, he seems to be the type of people that can survive one his own. He could be heading my way though. Removing his mask and reviling his own features, "now don't go telling everyone my secret identity," his tone heavy with sarcasm. Hopefully he hadn't done anything wrong that involved Laim. Back then good or evil seemed to be almost a coin flip for him.

Before the outbreak David probably would have let things take there own course, but by now he was tired of seeing this type of event. Pointing to the painted arrows on the ground, "if you're fallowing these we could travel together. Strength in numbers or something like that, and I'm sure that guy will have 'friends' around here somewhere. Even if David thought he could handle himself, everyone made mistakes. There was also the chance that this whole community thing was a trap for easy pray, and he didn't want to get caught in an ambush.

@The Kraken