Upon hearing the loud roaring of the motorbike behind him, The Rocket sighed. Countless supervillains legitimately threatening lives, of course somebody was going to hunt down the petty thief. He glanced back at the encroaching hero, and started putting more oomph into his je-double take

"WHAT THE FUCK. WHEN THE HELL DID FUCKING [i]BATMAN[/i] MOVE TO FUCKING CLEVELAND." Oh god, run. Run, you shitty wannabe villain, run. Fucking Two-Face and Joker running wild, and Batman goes and chases down Kite-Man.

With a sigh of regret and dread, he turned his head to meet Crisis' gaze. Rocket's helmet wasn't nearly as stylized, a rather simple little affair with a completely smooth faceplate save for the two holes where he had the goggles inserted for his eyes. Truth be told, he had scrapped that son of a bitch together from old scrap he had pulled out of a landfill and banged it into working headgear.

Out of politness's sake, Rocket gave him a curt wave with one hand, other still holding onto the strap of the bag he had slung over his shoulder.

Then the knives hit, promptly jamming straight into the left hip thruster and stoppering the whole thing up, which left Rocket hanging in midair as it sputtered and stopped. The explosion pellet, while it [i]did[/i] manage to knock around the workings of the back turbine and force it to stop, also managed to throw Rocket even farther forward through the air and past Crisis. He slammed into the concrete, face first, and had maybe a split second to groan in pain and humiliation. Fortunately for him-or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it-that's when the rockets detected that the back turbine and one of the hip thrusters was down, and activated as an automatic compensation. His shoulder retrorockets and knee jets immediately kicked on, and he shot down the street even faster than he was with his bounding leaps. 

On his face.

With a shriek of metal and concrete, Rocket's skidding body threw up waves of sparks as he slid down Pearl Road face down, arms flailing at his side as his systems forced him in the direction he was going in when his back turbine and hip thruster failed.

"FwubadubawafufufuckfuckfuuuUUUUUUUUUU-" 

A crunching sound, and another loud crash beckoned Rocket to look back. Oh, hey, the first stroke of luck all fucking day, somebody threw a goddamn dumpster and some cars in between him and the psychopath chasing him down. The resulting pileup from the hulks of metal had pretty much clogged the entire road, and hopefully would keep that jackass off of his back. He sighed, then looked forward. Then look back down at the road, and sighed again, a good half-second before smashing into a van as he finally started getting proper lift. As he was flung to the side, he bounced off of a car, off of another car after that, before he was firmly embedded in the side of a truck's trailer. Rocket grabbed hold of the trailer, checked to make sure the bag was still in one piece, and then waited as the truck drove further north, across the bridge over the Medina Freeway and towards the heart of Cleveland.