07-15-2018, 02:40 PM
[align=center][div style="width: 51%; text-align: justify; font-size: 10pt; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family: georgia;"]His body is acting on it's own at this point, adrenaline coursing through him. He's aware of those around him, but he's focused on Washington, who's struggling underneath him. He's about to jerk his paws, which would break his neck, until the smilodon throws his head back and strikes him right in the chin. His teeth squeal as they grind against each other, the action momentarily making his grip go slack, the male caught off-guard. Before he can get his hold back, he's suddenly barreled into, the force of it enough to at least push him off. However it was already obvious the being was smaller than him and as he faced the dragon, he wasn't concerned with getting them out of the way.
It was true, at heart, Maine--or Meta--had always been a soldier. He was made for gruesome tasks, ones that make most people hesitate. But him? He knew his place, and that place was being a machine made for war. Yet betraying the other Freelancers, the ones had considered good friends, that hadn't been easy for him. He had thought he knew what needed to be done. He prided himself in being able to do the unthinkable without blinking an eye, but it had taken a lot of coercing to get him to even consider it. Sigma was definitely a good negotiator.
The hellhound was about to rush at the large scaly beast when a sudden weight pressed down on his back, a loud, frustrated growl echoing from his throat as he shook himself to try and get whoever it was off. As sharp claws dug into his flesh, he made a grunting noise, though it wasn't nearly as painful as it would have been if he hadn't been injured many times already. More times than he could count.
He whirled around to face who it was. Somehow, Carolina was alive. It surprised him, but he kept his composure, another gurgled growl rippling through him. Looks like it wouldn't be as easy as he had thought. Ignoring the discomfort of blood seeping through underneath his armor, he would rush towards the leopard and would attempt to slam her onto the ground, throwing all of his weight onto her. He wasn't going to go easy on any of his former teammates, especially Carolina.
It was true, at heart, Maine--or Meta--had always been a soldier. He was made for gruesome tasks, ones that make most people hesitate. But him? He knew his place, and that place was being a machine made for war. Yet betraying the other Freelancers, the ones had considered good friends, that hadn't been easy for him. He had thought he knew what needed to be done. He prided himself in being able to do the unthinkable without blinking an eye, but it had taken a lot of coercing to get him to even consider it. Sigma was definitely a good negotiator.
The hellhound was about to rush at the large scaly beast when a sudden weight pressed down on his back, a loud, frustrated growl echoing from his throat as he shook himself to try and get whoever it was off. As sharp claws dug into his flesh, he made a grunting noise, though it wasn't nearly as painful as it would have been if he hadn't been injured many times already. More times than he could count.
He whirled around to face who it was. Somehow, Carolina was alive. It surprised him, but he kept his composure, another gurgled growl rippling through him. Looks like it wouldn't be as easy as he had thought. Ignoring the discomfort of blood seeping through underneath his armor, he would rush towards the leopard and would attempt to slam her onto the ground, throwing all of his weight onto her. He wasn't going to go easy on any of his former teammates, especially Carolina.
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