FactionGuerrilla
I'll do what I can.
Woods' expression became more incredulous as he listened to Lann's phrases. Adamantoise and Mythril 5th certainly did not ring any bells for him. At this point, if this were under "normal" circumstances, the soldier would definitely have written Lann off as a nut-job, but as he had figured earlier, this place was certainly not normal at all. It wasn't a dream, even though the setting certainly seemed too unreal to be true. The date was probably similarly far-off, by the sounds of it.
"Mythril 5th...? Doesn't sound anything like what we'd use in America..." The soldier frowned before glancing towards the other, larger group of misfits once more. This time, some kind of... inhuman figure tried to attack a glowing person, only to have his attacks go through. Similarly enough, his speech was just audible over the crowd for Frank to easily determine it spoke a language very well different from both English and any known man-made speech. But most of all, the biggest giveaway was the boy's exclamation towards the man's magazine cartridges.
"Magitech? Uhhh, I hate to break it to ya, kiddo, but these aren't magic wands or anything. They're just plain old bullets. Y'know, to shoot people with a gun?" The American pulled out one of the magazines, handing it to Lann. Unless he had the ability to magically hurl the rounds at a high velocity, the CIA operative highly doubted it would be lethal in his hands. But Lann's statement definitely confirmed his suspicions- Woods had a small theory, although he couldn't be 110% sure it was right- hell, he doubted even Einstein could science out this situation.
"Judging by what's going on 'round us, and what you've said, I don't think you and I belong in the same... Time or place. I dunno about you, but I have no clue how the hell I got here. And it seems that everyone else is just as confused as us-" Frank was interrupted- rather rudely- by the "explosion" of the mailbox. Most strangely, most of the folks in the train station didn't seem to give a shit.
"What the fu-?" The soldier nearly finished his sentence before realizing he was right next to a boy, forcefully biting his tongue right at the end to stop his sentence. He immediately was met with the metallic taste of blood, but ignored it for the time being- if he was lucky, it might even heal up like his palm did just a few moments ago. The blood was already starting to dry up as the American reached for his pistol holster once more, and was again met with thin air. Silently cursing- this time in his head- Woods grit his teeth before glancing at the other, confused folks too, trying to gauge their reactions and possible statuses.
The seemingly mobile, talking oven grabbed one of the letters for its squad to read- good to know that at least some of the folks in the station were acknowledging the letters. The robot was kind of interesting, though- the oven seemed to actually work, and the way it addressed the inhuman... thing with its oven open seemed to imply that it could weaponize its oven. Maybe it could. Maybe not. Maybe it was best not to see for himself unless absolutely necessary.
Some weird one-armed girl also snatched a letter for her own, who was pretty much a loner and seemed pretty pissed off- unfortunately, she didn't seem "stable" at all. The way Frank thought of anger was simple- it was just like football. If you channeled your inner rage, it could be used to push through some of the nastiest shit that the world can toss at you- he knew that from first-hand experience. But if you were running only on blind anger, you could potentially become a ticking time bomb that results in an aggressively suicidal move. But her appearance seemed a bit more futuristic- who knew what kinda tech shit she had packing. Best not to underestimate a foe, in Woods' eyes. It's way better to overestimate one, but he'd still try not to do either.
Finally, the more assassin-like man picked up a letter on the ground. Seemed kind of like a dangerous type like the armless girl, but unlike her he seemed a bit more medieval. Probably from a timeline that was from the past, by the looks of it. This was probably a given if Frank's hunch that nobody belonged in the same time period or "place" was correct. Whatever brought them here was most certainly not discriminating, as shown through all the different folks that seem equally as confused as he and Lann. But he digressed. As for the man, it was best not to overestimate or underestimate once more- but maybe that guy could be a potential ally? He was talking to a little girl earlier, making drawings for her. He was probably trying to look out for the kid- maybe his looks were a bit more deceiving and he was a bit more of a benevolent character than he seemed? Could work out for a good ally.
Seemingly done with his analysis, the SOG agent gestured for Lann to follow him as the American moved forwards, leaving the boy with the M1911 magazine in his hand.
"C'mon, kiddo, let's see what the fuss is all about," Woods stated before moving forwards. He did bump into a green-haired woman, barely giving her any notice until he inadvertently locked eyes with her. He stared for about a split-second before frowning, shaking his head, and moving on, leaving the woman only a shake of his hand in a mild "apology"- which was about the closest one could get to a full-blown apology with the Marine.
"Sorry, lady- gotta check out these letters, not your looks," The American said over his shoulder- probably just loud enough for the woman to hear- before leaning down, picking up the letter, and opening it up. Once Lann got close- if he wished- Frank would hold it over his shoulder for the boy and him to read, potentially allowing the woman he bumped into earlier to read the letter too.
Drakerus
Centurion_
