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[sub][@Sickle-cell][/sub][/center]

Robin's garage wasn't exactly the fanciest place in Boston, but it at least had character.

If 'character' was another word for 'a complete mess', anyway. But hey, things to do, people to see, murderers to befriend! Being a cape had never left her much time for interior decoration, or even basic maintenance. It wasn't like the whole place was covered in dust, anyway - just 90% of it. She glanced over towards the car resting inside. Thing was a complete rust-bucket, really, but she'd mostly fixed it up. Somehow. It'd probably hold together if nothing else.

One of these days, she'd have to learn how cars actually worked. But today was [i]not[/i] that day.

Hey, it [i]ran[/i], didn't it? As for herself... she grinned as she caught sight of her own vehicle. It was, without a doubt, one of the crappiest motorcycles she'd ever laid eyes on. Thing had barely worked when she got a hold of it - hadn't even had to pay the dude to take it off his hands, seeing as it was on the way to the scrapheap anyway. After replacing all the important parts, it ran like a dream, and while it wasn't huge, it was manoeuvrable. Besides, the chipped exterior worked for her; there were upsides to having a bike that looked too crappy for people to want to steal.

[color=cyan][i]Gotta hurry.[/i][/color]

Oh yeah, the Circus. Man, this was gonna be a long day. Particularly considering how she was gonna spend the next few hours.

After making sure the doors were all locked, and scribbling 'CLOSED' on a note in the window for good measure, she nodded to herself. A hidden compartment at the bottom of her desk revealed a small key, and she turned to the door at the back of the shop. Her workshop, so to speak.

She wrinkled her nose as she entered, the smell of disinfectant hitting her. It beat the smell of blood, at least, which lingered no matter how much effort she put into scrubbing the floor. Not the kind of thing you could bring a cleaner in for, either. The bed in the centre of the room was clean - she wasn't dumb enough not to sterilise everything whenever she got the chance. As much as anything else, Automaton dreaded a hospital visit, considering how obvious her cape status would be to anyone looking deeper. Infections were a no-go.

It took a few minutes of getting materials together before she locked the door behind her. Twirling a small scalpel in her hand, she took a deep breath and sat down on the bed, resting her right arm on the table. A strip of fabric in her mouth to bite down on, if only to keep her from biting into her own tongue, and preparations were done. No time to put it off any longer. 

The first part was always the worst, as the blade dug into her flesh, blood welling up. Deep, and then cutting, slowly and carefully, in a small rectangle - the tug of her flesh as it resisted the blade only forcing her to keep focus. It wouldn't to do have her hand slip, and straight lines were important. She bit down on the fabric, hard. This was [i]so[/i] much worse than the morning had been, blinking stinging tears out of her eyes. Cold. It was cold, but the pain flashed hot.

And then removal. A chunk of flesh from the palm of her hand hitting the floor with a dull squelch. Hollowing out one's own flesh was never a pleasant experience, certainly not when there was [i]bone[/i] to think about. [color=cyan][i]Eurgh.[/i][/color] Yeah, that wasn't a fun thing to look at. It was lucky she hadn't eaten anything recently. But she couldn't exactly stop, either, even if the sight of her own tendons was completely stomach-churning - god, why did they keep [i]moving[/i]?

Involuntary twitching aside, the procedure itself was going fairly well. All she had to do was keep going, ignore the metallic stench of blood and hot-cold strikes of pain that assaulted her senses, then it'd all work out. She knew what she was doing. It was fine.

[color=cyan][i]This is gonna be a long afternoon.[/i][/color]

[hr]
Robin woke with a burning in her throat, the bitter taste of bile in her mouth as she spat out the makeshift gag. [color=cyan][i]Ew.[/i][/color] She hated that part. A glance at her hand, experimentally opening and closing it, at least confirmed the procedure had taken. Standing up, she walked out of the workshop, making her way through to the bathroom. Scrubbing off the blood was a pain, but the wounds themselves had healed perfectly. A glass of water helped with getting the foul taste out of her mouth, though she grabbed a breath mint for good measure. No point in feeling disgusting; she'd need confidence tonight.

It was getting dark by the time she cleaned herself up properly, so Robin donned her mask once more, a jacket and gloves pulled on to cover her arms, and trousers for her legs. Normally she didn't bother hiding anything for cape work, but there was no point in giving the game away too early this time. Looking relatively normal, except for the mask, would at least grant her the element of surprise.

That, and she wanted to make her first impressions in the ring, grinning as she looked at the open palm of her right hand. Speaking of the ring, it was time for her to get going - for once, she really didn't wanna be late. After all, it'd really suck if she got there too late to even participate. She could already feel anticipation building as she began to run, smiling to herself.

[color=cyan][i]I always did wanna visit the circus.[/i][/color]