One by one, the elderly residents shuffled forward, forming a human chain behind Farza. Mr. Johnson, the man who had thrown his food earlier, stood tall despite his trembling legs. Others joined – Mrs. Martinez with her worn walker, Dr. Kumar leaning on his cane, Ms. Thompson in her wheelchair – each adding their presence to the defiant line.
"This is getting tiresome," Rogers sighed, adjusting his tie. "Initiate containment protocol."
The robots' eyes flickered red, advancing with mechanical precision. Farza's hand hovered over his Z-Watch, heart pounding. Revealing his identity would put everyone at risk, but watching these people get hurt wasn't an option either.
Suddenly, the robots stuttered mid-step. Their movements became erratic, then violent as they turned on each other in a cascade of sparks and grinding metal.
"What?" Rogers spat, jabbing frantically at his wrist controller.
Juan's voice carried across the chaos, tinged with satisfaction. "Maybe next time, upgrade your firewall!"
As people scattered from the robotic melee, Rogers turned to flee. Farza sprinted after him, weaving through the panicked crowd. "Stop!"
Rogers spun around, his composed facade cracking as he pulled out a small device. "You should have stayed out of this!" He pressed the detonator.
The explosion rocked the building's eastern wing. Through the dust and debris, Farza saw Mr. Johnson directly in the path of falling concrete. Without thinking, he channeled the Z-Force energy through his body without transforming. He launched forward with supernatural speed, tackling the elderly man clear of the immediate danger.
But more rubble was falling. Juan was occupied with the rogue robots, and Farza couldn't reach his Z-Watch without exposing himself. Just as the debris was about to crush them both, it exploded mid-air, reduced to harmless dust by some unseen force.
"Are you alright, Mr. Johnson?" Farza helped the shaken man to his feet, scanning the rooftops for their mysterious savior.
"Yes, yes," Mr. Johnson nodded vigorously, clutching Farza's arm. "Thank you, young man. Farza, was it? You're as brave as my Hannah..."
But Farza's attention had already turned back to Rogers, who was climbing into a sleek private helicopter. "This isn't over!" he shouted over the roar of the rotors. "You'll pay for interfering!"
As police and emergency services arrived to manage the chaos, Farza and Juan slipped away from the crowd. "That was some amazing hacking," Farza grinned, bumping his friend's shoulder. "We'd have been toast without you."
Juan beamed, but his expression quickly turned thoughtful. "Did you see who helped us with that falling debris? The trajectory of the blast suggested someone with significant power..."
Across the street, unnoticed by the bustling emergency responders, Hannah "H" Johnson methodically cleared smaller pieces of rubble. She paused, watching her father gesturing animatedly to a paramedic.
"You should have seen him!" Mr. Johnson exclaimed. "This young man named Farza – he moved so fast! Reminded me of those heroes on TV, the ones with the colored suits..."
Hannah's lips curved into a small smile beneath her hood. "I'm glad you're okay, Dad," she said softly, approaching him.
Mr. Johnson's eyes lit up. "Ah, Hannah! My precious daughter! Can you believe they tried to take our home? But we showed them! That brave boy Farza and his friend – they helped us stand up to those corporate bullies!"
His daughter listened patiently as he continued his excited recount of events, her hand resting protectively on his shoulder. Under her sleeve, something glinted with a familiar energy – the same energy that had saved Farza and her father moments ago.