Evan // Mort // OPEN
Mort had been eagerly following the people running for the gate, his trusty bat in one hand and a hand gun in his pocket. He paused, visibly, when he saw the assailants. He hadn't realized that 'defending their home' meant defending it from other people. People that weren't yet dead.
One of the guys was on the floor, an arrow in his head.
For all his fighting experience, Mort hadn't actually killed anyone. Hard to kill what was already dead.
He hadn't even lived here for a week. He hadn't so much jumped at the opportunity to fight so he could defend the good people of Sing Sing but more because he'd been bored. However, this was... Zombies were acceptable targets. Government people were more... morally questionable. There'd be no turning back if he got involved. There was a lot to consider, especially if he ever wanted to back to any of the safehouses in New York.
Ah, screw it.
They were outnumbered and he lived here now - Carpe fucking diem. He would throw in his chips with the underdog.
Nearby, a rather handsome man was being attacked by three others. It was easy to tell the Sing Sing folks from the governmentals. The latter wore uniforms, the former were generally more scruffy-looking. They fought more ferociously, too. Still, three against one was never fair.
Mort had the advantage because he was approaching from behind, so one solid blow later, the fight had become two against two. "Heya, handsome," Mort said, "need a hand?"