[ Zack wakes with a start, jerking upright on the concrete floor as he sucks in a breath and coughs it out. The sound is - definitely unhealthy, and the pained groan that follows is ample confirmation. He isn't going to complain, though. Not when he thought the last breath he drew on the other side was going to be just about it, for good.

Operating on instinct, he rolls up to sit, grimacing as he presses a gloved hand to his chest. His wounds are healed, but it feels like only just barely, and this place is... Is it Midgar? Or... somewhere else?

Bright blue eyes glowing faintly in the dim, cloudy dark, he spies a glimmer of motion from just beyond the broken down room where he's sitting. ]

Hey! Is somebody there?

[ Zack whistles, a bright, impressed sound, as he admires the mechanical chocobo that that weird draw and the set of mystery keys in his pocket have led him toward. It looks twice as bulky as a real bird, maybe even tougher than Shinra's mass produced security bots. The shiny, purple finish is a nice touch, too, way more stylish than anything standard issue.

But - when he reaches out to check for the ignition and try to start it up, it gives him a shock so strong he jumps back with a yelp. The chocobo judders and twitches in place, as if attempting to flap its wings, then the engine coughs and winds down with a sputter.

...On closer inspection, though, there are more than a few broken and bent wires. Some of the plates have come loose, too. ]

Man. Figures I'd get saddled with a hunk of junk.

[ Weirdly, Zack's feeling better, after the storm. It could be that dangerous, monster-filled combat is just more his speed - but probably it's more so because of the healing effect the rain brought with it. (If he's a lot bothered by the scales that are now scattered across his chest and back, where half-healed wounds were before, well. He's doing his best not to show it.)

Of course, that relief is short-lived when the brief, peaceful quiet after is ended abruptly by the first shattering crash of storm-blown debris smashing into the cracked asphalt behind him. What looks like part of an old barn roof crashes against the ground, sending chunks and splinters of wood spraying outward in all directions. Zack ducks reflexively, shielding himself with his arms as a few pieces bounce harmlessly off him. Better him than someone else, though; he's tough enough to take it.

The air clears, and he looks up with a hint of relief. ]

Well, that's—

[ A twisted hunk of metal nearly as big as the roof now splashed across the road starts whistling down out of the sky, cutting him off. ]

Not good! [ Especially when he's not the only one out here. He sprints for the convoy, flagging down anyone in sight as more debris bounces off the road - or tries to punch a hole right through it, in the case of the heftier stuff. ] Get under cover!

[ Fair warning, anyone who doesn't look like they're moving fast enough (or like they might not be able to) is in immediate danger of getting carried to safety. ]