[center][img]http://txt-dynamic.cdn.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjQ0LjNjZDNjYy5RWFYwYjIxaGRHOXUuMAAA/th3-machine.regular.png[/img][/center]
[center][sub][i][@Duoya] [@Sickle-cell] [@Migyudon] [@Old Amsterdam] [@Kiddo][/i][/sub][/center]

This was a terrible idea in so many different ways, but Automaton wasn't going in this to win; she wasn't even going in for a real fight, no matter what the crowd would have to say about an early withdrawal. It was a test, an experiment, part of a bigger picture - [i]her[/i] bigger picture, not anyone else's. Work-ons, weaknesses, a new train of thought.

And it was probably a little late to realise that Wonderland were just as willing to throw her under the bus as Gladius had been. Of course, there was a chance that this was all just a coincidence and she'd gotten this matchup on pure bad luck, but Boston wasn't a safe place to believe in coincidences. Like they said - it's not paranoia if everyone really is out to get you. Or out for themselves, in this case, but that made sense. Collateral damage.

Seeing that the heroes had turned up to the Circus at least reinforced that particular theory. So much for principles, huh? They were as much of a gang as anyone else here, and the self-righteousness they maintained in light of that left a bad taste in her mouth. All against criminal activity until a point needed proving, huh? Soon as the public eye wasn't on, they were just like anyone else. Yeah, everyone in this city really was a self-interested asshole. Her included, of course, but she'd never claimed not to be. Not being a murderer was enough for her to feel okay about a few petty thefts.

But as far as the Protectorate went, it really wasn't a good look... she smiled to herself. [i]That[/i] would be something to think about later. If she wasn't a quadriplegic within the next half-hour.

[color=cyan][i]Could really be more positive about this. Maybe he'll just break both my legs.[/i][/color]

At least her systems were working alright, new addition and all. Nothing was likely to break on her without someone else breaking it. But whatever was about to happen in the cage, it was time to face the music. Deep breaths. Calm. No point getting worked up. She smiled to herself as she entered the arena - knowing she had every intention to quit as soon as the going got tough. Would it look cowardly? No doubt, but pride wasn't much use to a dead girl.

Pulling off her gloves and jacket, she tossed them aside, metallic enhancements gleaming in the harsh light. The arena itself was more intimidating than she would have liked, and Sickle was [i]creepily[/i] silent. Totally looking forward to turning her into confetti, if she had to guess, an idea that her internal organs weren't exactly on board with. She wasn't sure if she could actually smell blood, or if her mind was just playing some cruel trick.

[color=cyan]"Don't suppose we could talk this out? Y'know, one to one, cyborg to blood-bender, thief to self-righteous murdering psychopath?"[/color] She laughed slightly - okay, she [i]knew[/i] how much trouble she was in, but apparently running her mouth and talking complete nonsense was how she coped with the inevitability of death. Looking at Sickle's mask, she sighed. [color=cyan]"...yeah, didn't think so."[/color]

Relaxing as much as she could, Automaton prepared for the fight to begin.