President Michael Wilson
Tildes are the work of the devil
Private Robert Wilson sat on the deck of the boat, rifle in hand. He was making his last-minute checks of the weapon as he waited for landing; It wouldn't do for there to be a jam in a stressful situation. Unlike several other soldiers, he had few qualms about this mission. It was what he had been trained for, and he knew for a fact that it would be better in the long run. Once he was done with the rifle, he set it down next to him and drew a pistol, making the same checks on it he did for the larger weapon. Off to the other side lay three Pokeballs- They had already been polished clean. Once the checks were done, the soldier holstered the pistol and clipped the Pokeballs to his belt, and then looked over the boat's edge towards the island in the distance. He had an uneasy feeling about this- They were close enough to see some activity on the beach, and what he saw was slightly unsettling.
"Sir! Several sighted, possibly hostiles!" He had a grip on his weapon and held it out. More likely than not these were those hybrids, and their mission was to search and destroy. He could probably land a few shots from this distance, but he was not going to fire unless given orders to at the moment. At least it looked like they were making a stand... This would hopefully be easy.
"Sir! Several sighted, possibly hostiles!" He had a grip on his weapon and held it out. More likely than not these were those hybrids, and their mission was to search and destroy. He could probably land a few shots from this distance, but he was not going to fire unless given orders to at the moment. At least it looked like they were making a stand... This would hopefully be easy.