[And then he's being physically moved with such sudden force that his body tenses up, ready to have to throw his friend or grapple with him or otherwise be put into a fight mode.
And it's a good and proper response, too, when Frank is fucking shot. Frank, who normally wears his kevlar vest, who is not wearing his vest at current, why the hell wasn't he wearing it out hunting--
The bullets don't pass through, in spite of the power, and Frank leaves him to do his work. Clint, for his part, breathlessly pulls his bow to hand and nocks an arrow. He doesn't have a good shot on the guy given Frank is taking up all the immediate space, Frank who gets shot even more except...
The sinewy string under his fingers thuds rapidly in time with his heartbeat, a thing he hates has happened to his weapon. He keeps his eyes and ears open, even as Frank delivers a blow, several blows, that are both crunchy and squishy. There isn't anyone else in the immediate area that he can figure. Loner, seeing a chance and fucking it up, maybe. What they're going to need to do is lock down the area, secure a perimeter, make damn sure no other stragglers are loitering around.
For the moment, though. For the moment, it's just them again.] Frank. [He isn't bleeding out he isn't dying he's still standing-- Clint makes his way over, at the ready, spinning himself in a slow circle in case there's anyone else, and he sees nothing, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything these days, does it?] Frank!
no subject
[And then he's being physically moved with such sudden force that his body tenses up, ready to have to throw his friend or grapple with him or otherwise be put into a fight mode.
And it's a good and proper response, too, when Frank is fucking shot. Frank, who normally wears his kevlar vest, who is not wearing his vest at current, why the hell wasn't he wearing it out hunting--
The bullets don't pass through, in spite of the power, and Frank leaves him to do his work. Clint, for his part, breathlessly pulls his bow to hand and nocks an arrow. He doesn't have a good shot on the guy given Frank is taking up all the immediate space, Frank who gets shot even more except...
The sinewy string under his fingers thuds rapidly in time with his heartbeat, a thing he hates has happened to his weapon. He keeps his eyes and ears open, even as Frank delivers a blow, several blows, that are both crunchy and squishy. There isn't anyone else in the immediate area that he can figure. Loner, seeing a chance and fucking it up, maybe. What they're going to need to do is lock down the area, secure a perimeter, make damn sure no other stragglers are loitering around.
For the moment, though. For the moment, it's just them again.] Frank. [He isn't bleeding out he isn't dying he's still standing-- Clint makes his way over, at the ready, spinning himself in a slow circle in case there's anyone else, and he sees nothing, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything these days, does it?] Frank!