Frankie flew gracelessly through the air, landing with a heap on what appeared to be the remnants of a British phone booth excavated by Elohim's Malakh.  It wasn't bigger on the inside.  Frankie rose slowly to his feet, shards of glass sticking into his back as more ichor ran out of his body.  Really, at this point, he could barely stand, but the last thing he could do was show weakness.<br/><br/>He walked forward with confidence, his jaws dripping more of his ichor like some beast from hell.  He retracted the fangs to speak, deciding that his only real hope of replenishing himself was to finish this battle as quickly as he could.  "Is this all a game to you?  What are you doing?  Giving up an advantage in the middle of a deadly fight?"  Frankie's eyes blazed with defiance, showing no hint of his weakness as he surged forward, Barreling at her in a very clearly telegraphed haymaker.<br/><br/>...Which turned out to be exactly what he was doing, as he slammed into his opponent with the force of a freight train, cracking the bones of the fallen nearby as the dirt of the battlefield exploded outward, sending cracks through the earth towards the hole Frankie had dug earlier.