As the rain of arrows came at Dieselpunk, she morphed her arms into large metal sheets, lifting them to block them from hitting any sensitive regions. She bit back her mechanical tongue at the archer's comments about how 'it takes more than a special quirk'. It reminded her of her hero school days, how she started out absorbing I-beams, how clunky she was and how much her classmates made fun of her. How dependent she was that her combat environment provide her with usable machinery. How she never managed to truly surpass her 15 minute time limit. How she irreversibly disfigured her face because of her quirk and her drunkenness. [color=a187be][i]"You think my quirk's special?!"[/i][/color] she thought to herself.

At that moment, a shining ray of hope shot out, hitting the flying heroine, reminding Dieselpunk that she had allies now. A nasty sounding rev, followed by some more purple smoke from Dieselpunk's pipes, and she fell down suddenly, creating a cavern under her torso and a wall with her arms between Midnight and the oncoming arrow, expecting it to either bounce off of her, or to explode. Sure, she couldn't actually hit any of these brats herself, she didn't have to, but she can protect those that could. After whatever effect the arrow was supposed to have wore off, Dieselpunk roared again and as wheels shifted to the soles of her feet. The squeal, the smell, and the plumes of white smoke peeled from the wheels as they began to spin, propelling the metal monstrosity that was Dieselpunk forward, as she attempted to tackle the archer into submission.