[center][h3] Michael and Franklin [/h3]
Level 4- (30/40) EXP / Level 3- (24/30) EXP (+1 EXP)
Location: Ancestral Farmland, Land of Adventure
Wordcount: 223
Michael's Stress: 40 / Franklin's Stress: 40  [/center]
[hr]
[color=39b54a]"Sorry!"[/color] Franklin cried out, wincing as he watched the machete accidentally bounce off of the Centurion's helmet. Throwing machetes wasn't something he had practiced often, as he almost always fought with guns, and it showed. With a motion, the machete re-materialized in his hand. With a more careful aim, he tossed it at the Thing a second time, adding onto the wave of attacks the group was directing towards the creature. As the machete warped into his hand again, he stepped back as Bowser approached, attacking the creature. He instead turned to the swarms of husks, letting Bowser and the others handle the Thing. With the machete in one hand and his nine-millimeter pistol in the other, he leapt into the fray, tossing the machete in a wide arc to cut down as many of the husks as he could, before raising his pistol and trying to shoot down the floating scarecrows. 

Still decently far away from the fighting, Michael's scope trailed over the enemies. He didn't want to risk shooting at either of the big targets yet, since the number of allies attacking them in melee made it a dangerous task. He instead settled his crosshairs on one of the foremen, seeing as they appeared to be leading the mass of husks forward. Steadying his aim, he pulled the trigger and fired.