"Pretty sure I was about to cut your head off." Arty's lips twisted in a smirk and his right hand began to spark as he stalked closer to robocop. He'd seen what he could do, felt the energy before the blast, and now knew what to look for to avoid it in the future. The other man moved with the confidence and assurance of one suited for combat, the kind of stance and posture you'd expect to see from a greek hero or a modern comic-book protagonist. It was almost TOO cool, if Arty was being honest. I mean, how is it even possible to catch the light from all the right angles and be completely photogenic in the midst of an all out death brawl in the woods? Apparently it was possible though, cuz this guy was pulling it off. 

He could have sworn he felt a smirk develop beneath the mask as they close the distance, and when they finally reached melee range and the other man launched his attack, Arty returned the smirk with his own. The opposing sword came in from his left, a hard and fast swing leaving little room to avoid, but Arty had no intention of avoiding. In an instant, a brilliant white blade flashed into his hand with a low crack of thunder and met the oncoming blade, severing the metal in two as it passed. The cyborg didn't even have time to gasp in shock (if indeed he actually were capable of gasping) before the blade arced back around and severed its head from its shoulders, the swing augmented to inhuman levels of strength and speed by Arty's powers.

Turning back to face the remaining fighters, he raised his arms, sword still shining brilliantly in his right hand, and gave the group a dark smile. 

"Three for zip, bitches. Who's up next?"