He has enough time to say "oh, fuck!" before his feet catch up to his brain and then he's just running. He's fast. It's probably faster.
But it's all metal, not organic -- he should be able to stop it. Not while he's running, he can't focus on it long enough, but if he can get up out of its reach, he can break it down. It is easy to make anything man-made malfunction; improbable over impossible, that's what he does.
Assuming it's not made of Primium. Assuming there's no countermagic woven into it. Assuming it can't climb. There are a lot of assumptions he has to make here and he doesn't like any of them.
No other choice. It'll catch up to him if he tries to run much farther, and he's really not keen on figuring out what that needle is for. He hits the sidewalk from the street and uses the momentum and the wall to leap for the lowest rung of the ladder. He catches it, thank God, and the whole thing creaks dangerously as he pulls himself upwards. He suspects that it can't support his weight for very long but he's got long legs and long arms and if he can make it all the way to the top he can probably reach the roof.
Please don't be able to fly, he's thinking fervently.
While he's climbing, he makes one offensive move -- attempting to disable it or slow it down. It's giving off steam, which means heat; it's easy enough to flip one force for another. Cold, he's thinking and it's concentrated straight at that thing, his willpower focused on this one act. He knows he can channel his will to alter reality; that's not a dream thing, that's a real life thing. It's as instinctive to him as breathing.
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But it's all metal, not organic -- he should be able to stop it. Not while he's running, he can't focus on it long enough, but if he can get up out of its reach, he can break it down. It is easy to make anything man-made malfunction; improbable over impossible, that's what he does.
Assuming it's not made of Primium. Assuming there's no countermagic woven into it. Assuming it can't climb. There are a lot of assumptions he has to make here and he doesn't like any of them.
No other choice. It'll catch up to him if he tries to run much farther, and he's really not keen on figuring out what that needle is for. He hits the sidewalk from the street and uses the momentum and the wall to leap for the lowest rung of the ladder. He catches it, thank God, and the whole thing creaks dangerously as he pulls himself upwards. He suspects that it can't support his weight for very long but he's got long legs and long arms and if he can make it all the way to the top he can probably reach the roof.
Please don't be able to fly, he's thinking fervently.
While he's climbing, he makes one offensive move -- attempting to disable it or slow it down. It's giving off steam, which means heat; it's easy enough to flip one force for another. Cold, he's thinking and it's concentrated straight at that thing, his willpower focused on this one act. He knows he can channel his will to alter reality; that's not a dream thing, that's a real life thing. It's as instinctive to him as breathing.