Four Painful Years

Just run away.

>RUN TO THE FORKLIFT

LUCA: “Run.”

JULIE: “B-but what about…?”

LUCA: “We’re fine. Run.”

You duck out of the impending danger and bolt towards the back door. It proves incredibly difficult to not turn back. Leaving everyone behind like that… It feels so wrong. Skidding to a halt, you make it to the door and reach for the handle.

… No. You can’t. This is your fight to lose. You don’t care how “fine” they’ll be, allowing anyone to get hurt in your stead is a despicable thing to do. You have to help them. But how? You’re not big and strong like Mustafa. You’re tough, but not as tough as Luca. You’re not as fast as Trent or as keen as Maxwell...

You look to your left. Parked in the charging station are Panzer and Janice, your beat-up metal babies. An idea brews. It’s not a good idea, it is in fact a terrible idea, but at this point you don’t really have a choice.

You abandon the back door in favor of Janice, the faster of the two. Once inside you gun the lever and drive like crazy. Hopefully you can get back before something terrible happens to your friends. Sure, it’s four against one, but... the man’s a monster. What if he overpowers them while you’re gone?

What if they can’t handle it?

>Luca: Reveal a few thousand of your power levels. Just enough to deal with this old-timer.

You round the corner. From what you can see through your watery eyes, everyone’s still alive.

The impact is going to be a doozy. Due to the safety measures on your average lift vehicle, you will have to keep your foot on the pedal right up to the last moment, or the breaks will engage and the forklift will stop immediately. You might’ve been able to weigh it down with something had you the time to go looking. Too late now. With any luck, the sheer force of meeting the wall won’t kill you. It’ll just knock you out and free you from this god awful headache.

A gun didn’t do the job. Let’s see how the bastard holds up under four-and-a-half-tons of thirty-mile-an-hour iron justice.