[center][hr][hr][h1][b][i][color=f7941d]Griffin Lee[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://i.imgur.com/BggOSPY.gif[/img][hr][hr][color=f7941d][b]Location:[/b][/color] The Framework 
[color=f7941d][b]Skills:[/b][/color] Battle Axe Proficiency[hr][color=f7941d][b]Personality Traits:[/b][/color] [u]Brave[/u] [b]·[/b] [u]Prideful[/u] [b]·[/b] [u]Adamant[/u] [b]·[/b] Trusting [b]·[/b] Courteous [b]·[/b] Malcontent[hr][/center]

	Grif gasps for air as he lays collapsed on the cold office floor, his own weight acted against him as it painfully pressed down onto his broken ribs, a total of three [i]so far[/i]. Virtual simulation or not, the whole experience couldn't have been any more real for him, being reduced to such an incapacitated state in a matter of moments. But he wasn't a battle-seasoned, combat-capable soldier of three years for nothing; pain was no stronger to him. It could have been the coursing adrenaline, experimentally enhanced endurance or just sheer willpower but Grif would pull himself to his feet, propping himself with his axe drawn out. The very act cause more pain to swell up across his frame, he would've liked cave into the blunt trauma but he soldiered on through the pain. 

	In the midst of pulling himself together from being a wheezing mess on the ground, he would fail to take much notice of the glitches in the Framework; be it distorted voices, bodies twisted and displaced beyond the limits of the human body. At any rate, Grif was currently acting on battle instincts alone, his body on auto-pilot as he wearingly borders between conscious and unconscious. He would hurl his battle axe with one good arm at Pietro, the speedster somewhat distracted and glitching in and out. But at the last moment, a sharp jolt of pain would tear across his chest, his grip would slip and the axe goes off-course and would hit the ground, missing Quicksilver altogether, and the axe blade would dig few inches into the office floor. The entire motion would aggravate the broken ribs even further, nearly having him black out on the spot. 

	[color=f7941d]"I'm stil... standing here, one way or the other."[/color] Grif manages to croak out, both arms lowered at his sides, practically driven to complete exhaustion at this point. Yet he refuses to be beaten like this.