Lucas heard the shout for aide and only just caught sight of the commotion being caused closer to the building. He didn’t recognize Mr. Buzzcock, but the fancy finger banger was obviously being overwhelmed. Luke wasn’t a fighter, but Theo had taught him to never ignore someone in need.

[b][i]‘Do what you can, remember to use what God gave you, son.’[/i][/b]

The punk’s shout of pain was the call to action. His glowing blue eyes scanned the vehicles near him in a blink. There wasn’t much advanced tech to be found among the teacher’s lot, so he settled on a moped that was parked among the motor bikes. He placed a hand on the seat and released a small pulse, eyes shimmering briefly. He whispered a short command, nothing complicated; the little thing was hardly capable of responding to his power.

“Sick’em.”

With a roar of it’s tiny engine, off went the little steed with all haste in a wobbly line toward the battle. Baton-man went down with a dull thud of metal-meets-bad guy. The collision sent him right into taser-bro, resulting in a heap of jerk bag.