A civil war of Liams.
Liam never thought he'd see the day.
Then again, he never thought he'd go a little coocoo and lose his sanity, but what's fair is fair.
He was the epicenter of all the carnage. In all four directions, blood and grime sprayed in the air, coloring even the skies red.
Liam smiled to himself.
"I feel the urge to say something edgy, but I can't find the words."
He spotted a ripped off hand a few footsteps in front of him, trampled on by a group of Liams as they tore each other's guts out.
"What do you think, hand? Are we the good guys?"
The hand remained silent as blood continued to spray.
Liam nodded in agreement.
"You make a good point. Of course we are! We're the—"
"Stop talking to the hand, bastard!" a copy shouted from behind Liam, lurching at him like an uncoiled snake.
