FactionGuerrilla
I'll do what I can.
Frank had blacked out immediately after taking the blow for his canine ally, so when he regained consciousness to see the feathered fuck on the ground he had thought it was all over...
...Until he saw the developing situation. The tailor was completely headless, his neck spewing blood all over the God-damned store, Lucario had been completely blasted through a wall, and some lizard asshole was standing over Woods' ally. Well, that wasn't going to stand for the blue-eyed Marine.
The American looked down at his stomach, where he had taken the blow, and slowly touched the open wound with his palm. The blast had completely ripped through his T-shirt, and left a deep bloody gash. He groaned aloud when his hand touched the charred skin- touching it felt like it gave him a nasty sting- and immediately let go. Frank was about to grab at his sleeve to try and make a tourniquet, but to his amazement the stomach wound began to heal itself just like it did to the cut in his hand earlier.
Okay, looks like I might not be out for the count... He thought to himself, pulling his ass back up onto his feet. Ignoring the temporary pain that apparently came with his body trying to recover from the magic blow, he slowly limped over to his M16A1 and picked it up, trying not to rupture any organs while he did. If it was just Frank and Lucario against this scaled bastard, then they would probably be in big trouble. Didn't Shilo volunteer to follow the duo? Her professional help would be greatly appreciated at this point- Hopefully she had just been trailing behind instead of going AWOL.
C'mon, Shilo... Where the hell are you? Frank almost murmured the words under his breath, but he didn't. Instead, he limped over to the feathery bastard and pointed his rifle at the tiny bird brain, with a scowl on his face.
"You better not fucking move. If you go anywhere, I swear to God, I will bash that fucking beak of yours so far into your head it'll stick out the other side," The CIA operative menacingly threatened. And even if the bird-fucker did want to heed his command, Woods still grabbed a nearby mannequin and pretty much toppled it over so that it squashed one of its legs- even if the tiny green bastard could escape from the heavy weight, it would probably also impair its ability to walk quickly.
In the meantime, Frank slowly moved into position, raising his M16A1 at one of the lizard's legs. As much as he'd love shooting to kill, the authorities- no matter how incompetent they were- probably wouldn't appreciate having a dead body turned in. He kept his finger on the trigger, but waited to see what the Pokemon would do first.
NAME: WOODS, FRANK
ID#: 19680517
HEIGHT: 6'
WEIGHT: 190 LBS
AGE: ~37 Y/O
EYE COLOR: BLUE
HAIR COLOR: BLACK
RANK: MASTER SERGEANT
AFFILIATION: US MARINES CORP, STUDIES AND OBSERVATIONS GROUP, CENTRAL INTELLIGENCE AGENCY
Ambient Music:
Location: Coat Tailor
Condition: HEAVILY WOUNDED
Emotions: Agitated
Current Weapon: Customized M16A1
Current Inventory: None
Main Actions: Nothing
thatguyinthestore YellowTemperence Nightwisher