EMIYA SHIROU
Damn it. Mia had gotten some strange idea in her head and decided to steal Forest’s phone and run off with it at speeds well beyond human. Biting down a curse, Shirou ran back up the stairs to try to find her. He found her standing on the roof, trying (and failing) to use it to talk to Saber.
“Mia, I need that phone.” He walked over to the girl holding out one hand, the expectation clear that the object be handed over. His tone was soft, but his expression was serious.
LANCELOT
A fireball that the mad warrior couldn’t see slammed into his makeshift shield, but the car, now granted conceptual power on the level of a Noble Phantasm, easily endured the blazing heat, protecting the man behind it.
When the ground suddenly turned into boiling mush, he barely even noticed at first. Then the boiling mud started to cling to his feet, dragging his legs deeper and hindering his movement while burning everything it touched. It was more painful than actually damaging, but if he remained for very long his own armor would be turned into a makeshift oven, roasting him inside. There was also the fact that his progress toward the Servant had been slowed, enough to give the enemy another chance to attack before he could get inside of the caster’s range. He instinctively knew that hindered as he was, it was better to take the initiative out of the enemy’s hands than risk being attacked.
Yowling in fury, the berserker dropped his appropriated street sign for a moment to grip his stolen car with both hands, lifting it up over his head before hurling it at the man hovering above the hospital roof. It made a poor throwing weapon, but his strength and skill made up the difference, and 1,400 kilograms of super-empowered modern transportation flew towards the magician like a blast from a cannon.
Taking his improvised weapon back from the tar where he dropped it, Lancelot madly powered through the hellish goo bent on slaughtering the enemy. Making it to the end less than three seconds later, he sprinted to the nearest wall of the hospital before making an implausibly high jump, even hindered by the weight of his armor the barbarous strength in his muscles carried him over halfway up the side of the building before gravity clutched at him, halting his ascent. Refusing to be denied, the mad warrior grabbed at a windowsill, thin but enough for his armored gauntlet to grasp. Bracing his feet on the wall, he launched himself the remaining distance and easily cleared the roof, intending cut the Servant down where he stood.