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YANK BAR
Yanking, pulling, twisting, heaving. The bar remains put. You push. A gear groans laboriously. The bar suddenly snaps, and the machinary lurches forward, pent-up energy seizing the moment and overdoing things, hoping to make up for lost time.
Metal bits and screws pop free. A regulator of some type breaks, and the machine spins out of control. You are buffeted back, not from an object but from the rapid acceleration of wind. You fly through the air.
You land on your side, skidding across the floor. The air is knocked out of you. You have hit your head, and your mind momentarily cannot make sense of its surroundings.
Orbs of light float, produced in your confusion. It settles, and you regain your senses. The wind is howling, kicking up dust, swirling it. You shield your eyes and duck your head. You seem alright.
Where do you go?
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