Adult Content Warning
This work could have adult content. If you continue, you have agreed that you are willing to see such content.
-
Tags
Summary
A half-cocked plan begins to form in your mind, though you can’t quite tell if it's from the blood loss, or your own inability to stop yourself from trying to fight the Prime Assets Murkoff was determined to pit you against. “Aw, Poor baby Lupa can’t find his own food?” Even injured, you still manage to project your voice loud enough to draw his attention from across the lot, poking your head out from the doorway to get a good look at his face scrunching up in rage. The way he rushes towards the stairs cursing and raising his sawed off shotgun up has you ducking back into the doorway, loudly slamming the door to further incite him. You use the precious few seconds he spends tromping up the stairs crawling under the half busted wall into the little office cubicle to retrieve the rickety chair tucked under the desk and give it a harsh shove. It squeaks slightly as it barely rolls under the jagged drywall, before conveniently toddling right into the section of floor just out of the doors swinging range.
You give Franco a little dose of his Medicine.