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

There were times when Robin suspected that she was a goddamned idiot, and this was one of those times. As Sickle raised his arm to block, she didn't have time to stop her strike, eyes widening as she withdrew the blade and saw the blood moving around the wound. [color=cyan][i]Really should've picked out that coffin.[/i][/color]

Knowing it would be impossible to stop the attack, she fell back onto the ground, raising armoured legs and bringing her left hand up to cover her face as the needles flew towards her. The armour thankfully seemed to keep the attacks from doing major damage, though she didn't know how many more barrages it would stand. Still, in her hurried defence she couldn't cover everything, and she felt an explosion of burning pain across the right side of her face, accompanied sudden silence and a wave of dizziness that washed over Robin as most of her ear was torn away.

If she wasn't in the middle of a fight, she'd have been sick all over the sidewalk. As it was, she was seriously considering it. Hard to comprehend that sort of injury, she figured, metallic muscle exposed and glinting in the moonlight. Had she screamed? She thought so. Her breaths came shuddering, unsteady as shock threatened to sink in. But it was an instinctive reaction to the pain, nothing more, and her earlier determination hadn't faded.

Would that even regenerate? No time to think about it - whatever happened, having blood pour from the side of her head wasn't exactly the best-case scenario here. What little healing ability she had would [i]probably[/i] keep her from bleeding out, but that wasn't much of a blessing. She'd been in over her head in the first place, and the more this went on the more hopelessly outmatched she'd be.

The fight was a lost cause, really, and maybe that was why she kept fighting. Because... well, it was a goal. And turning away meant what? Another day fixing cars in her garage, waiting for some gang leader to call her in? One more expendable meat shield, a cog in someone else's machine. She didn't know what she was chasing with this, but it was something. Substance. Desperately trying to prove she wasn't just one more nobody.

She wondered what the hopelessness of it all said about her. A harsh laugh escaped almost unwillingly, whether at that realisation or out of frustrated defiance she wasn't quite sure. [color=cyan]"Guess that's the bleeding question answered, huh?"[/color] Her right hand made contact with the floor.

[color=cyan]ᴄʟᴏᴀᴋɪɴɢ: ᴀᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ[/color]

And she fired the pulse directly into the ground with a slightly muffled boom, the recoil sending her flying towards her opponent at high speed. The movement itself was uncontrolled, but along with the camouflage it was at least unpredictable enough that she might get a good hit in. Finding herself going feet-first, she aimed to sink an armoured knee into her opponent's ribs; knocking the wind out of him and keeping him down seemed like the best chance she had of getting anywhere.