Renton Station: Round 1-Mercy Metford Vs. Steambot

Mercy Metfords' room was fit to be a battlefield. Scraps of metal, designs of ghastly weapons, and articles of clothing were scattered about the floor. There were even the remains of one of her own bone hoop skirts she had dissected for the crinoline and fabric. She had always been like that, as far as she could remember; having her things lying about everywhere made her feel at home.
Mercy screwed a gear onto her weapon, finishing it. The gear was for decoration and had no use for the efficiency of the weapon, but she liked decorations. The gear made it look cute, like a bow on the head of a little girl—an admittedly odd thing to compare to something so devastating. Truth was she had finished the weapon long ago; she simply added the gear. However, in her eyes, the weapon had only been truly complete at this point.
She called it Lady's Manners, as the gorgeous engraving on the side of the gun suggested. She gave the weapon an once-over, admiring her handiwork. It was a multi-functional steampunk revolver bigger than her head. It consisted of well-oiled stainless steel with a soft leather grip and a red oak finish. It was loaded with stone pellets as big as her fist and metal slugs that could tear holes through steel as if it were butter. It had ten rounds of each, giving her a total of twenty shots. If she ran out of ammo, the gun had three claws attached to the end, each sharp enough to split a hair. It was also handy for close-up combat. She did not like wasting ammunition.
Mercy flipped one of the two switches on the side of her gun, and then pulled the overly-large trigger. The trigger complied with the slightest pressure, and the claws lashed out like savages.
She licked her lips—she was going to enjoy this.

Lady's Manners had been hung on the ticket booth/makeshift weapons storage case. The owner of the weapon stepped onto the starting zone. The audience roared for the fight.
Shilus, who was standing above the audience, introduced Mercy and her competitor. Her opponent was a seven-foot tall two-hundred pound robot by the name of Steambot KF7/26G. The light at the center of its head was unwavering, like an unblinking eye.
Mercy herself was barely 4'9, pale, had fleshy pink eyes and colorless hair that stood in all directions but those obscured by her hat and goggles. Her crinoline dress—which came with its crinoline built-in, but was removed by a certain mad scientist—was a faded dark pink and, besides cuffs and a ribbon, was all but undecorated.
"I love a challenge," Mercy taunted. "Shame I won't be getting one today."
The bot made no noticeable reaction.
Both competitors were quickly frisked for any weapons not built into them. Arabella Brinton did a rather quick though thorough search on Mercy, but the teen scientist still felt complied to snap at her for being too touchy. Once Levi Hardesty had finished checking Steambot, Mercy lowered her goggles over her eyes. They were a dirty shade of yellow and enlarged her eyes to comical proportions.
"Go!" Shilus shouted. The battle had begun.
Neither of the competitors wasted any time. Steambot levitated a foot off the ground and went after the girl at blinding speeds.
Mercy was a nimble person. She ran straight to the ticket booth and managed to make it halfway there before Steambot caught up to her. He stopped in front of her, ready to crush her. She ducked and slid under him but, much to her disgruntlement, she managed to lose her hat in the process. There was no time to fume over that now.
She pushed herself back up and made a mad dash the rest of the way as Steambot rose again. She was able to grab Lady's Manners just as Steambot began to advance on her. She spun and shot a stone pellet at him. It hit the light at the top of his chest, but also succeeded at cracking the top of the glass dome at the center of his chest. The impact repelled the bot backwards, but it quickly recovered and went after her again.
She scrambled to the back of the ticket booth and shot him in the head. It was well-aimed and broke the light, putting it out. Again, the bot was repelled, and recovered only a bit less quickly.
The crowd saw Steambots' relentlessness and began to jeer at Mercy. She heard things such as coward, little girl, and easy win. If she wasn't busy with this bot, she swore she would march right in there and blow each one of their heads off.
Unfortunately, she should have been paying more attention to the bot. It had caught up to her and punched her square in the face, knocking her to the ground and her weapon out of her hand.
Lady's Manners was out of reaching distance and too far for her to make a mad dash for it. She got up, wiped her bloody nose with a sleeve, and charged at him.
Steambot was large, but slow. It made to grab for her, but she was too fast. She grabbed onto it, swung around and hopped onto its' back. There, she lashed out completely, dismantling large pieces of the bot and destroying everything in sight that could be destroyed by bare fists—which was more than one would choose to believe.
Most of the audience actually laughed at this; she looked like a pink and white monkey picking large lice from a metal ape. Finally he grabbed her and threw her across the room onto one of the ticket barriers. She heard a pop as she landed.
That's the shoulder, she thought in a well-that's-just-dandy way.
But Mercy's attack, which was more or less an adrenaline-induced episode, caused lasting damage to the bot. It moved much more sluggish and jittery now, and lost a shoe attempting to tear off Mercy. This was a problem, as its shoes were the cause of its levitation.  It fell, creating a loud thud.
As it moved to replace his shoe, Mercy moved for her gun. Both opponents were moving sluggish due to their injuries. Mercy's arm swung awkwardly at her side.
Mercy grabbed Lady's Manners as Steambot still struggled to fit on his shoe. With one hand, she flicked one of the two switches on the side of the pistol-like device, and then fired a metal slug straight through Steambots' head, and even managing to leave a hole in the wall behind him. Unfortunately, this was the dressing room, but she could worry about that later.
Despite the ferocity of the slug, it seemed to have little to no effect on the bot. He began to levitate again. Mercy shot both of Steambots' shoes with slugs, grounding him.
"You cannot stop me, human," Steambot said in a booming, inhuman voice.
"Those'll be your first and last words, metal-brain," Mercy spat, not paying much attention to what Steambot had said.
She shot three more slugs in its chest, missing the dome every time. But that's not to say it was an accident, and practically proved her aiming skills by removing one of his arms with a well-aimed slug. She shot the knee of the leg on the other side, removing his leg.
"Timber!" Mercy yelled as Steambot buckled and fell slowly, almost comically, on his side. For a second she thought she had won, and the relief sent a wave of agonizing pain from her dislocated shoulder. She screamed through clenched teeth and almost dropped her gun. Then Steambot began to move again, rolling onto its front and crawling to Mercy.
"Die, goddamn it!" She yelled, sending her last two slugs into Steambots' side. The bot was incredibly slow now, but continued to advance.
The bot stopped moving suddenly. Again, Mercy thought she had won, until the dome in the center of his chest began to glow red. The bot began to crawl faster and more feverishly toward her. Before she could comprehend what was happening, the bot grabbed onto her ankle with his only arm. As she struggled to flip the switch on Lady's Manners, he dislocated her knee. She shot off his arm with three pellets before the pain set in.
She stumbled on her side, biting her cheeks until they bled. Mercy was the type of person who would rather die than show weakness. She scrambled on her belly and slid behind the phone booth farthest from her faster than a teenage girl with such an extent of injuries should; however,  quite a few of the audience members had seen a young drug dealer or two preform such feats in their lifetime.
"Just quit now, while you have dignity," she jeered as she sat bloody, bruised, and in serious need of medical attention. Typical Mercy.
The bot shuttered suddenly, and then began to repair itself at an incredible speed.
"Goddamn it," Mercy muttered under her breath. But by the time she leveled her gun to aim, it was too late. Steambot was fully functional again, as if the fight had never taken place. A typical contestant, broken and tired like her, would have given up and begged for mercy. But Miss Metford was a deranged woman, and wouldn't beg for her namesake however dire the situation may be.
Mercy thought fast—something she rarely did—and looked for a weak spot. There was no way she could go through the same thing again. There had to be some sort of shortcut.
Then it hit her—the dome. That must have been its weak spot; she cursed herself for not finding it sooner. So much for being a mechanic, she thought.
As the bot rushed towards her at incredible speeds, Mercy aimed and fired her last two shots onto the dome. Glass shattered, wires broke, and gears fell apart. Steambot fell backwards for the last time.
Mercy threw her good arm into the air, which was still tightly clutching Lady's Manners. "Woo hoo!" She yelled as enthusiastically as a teenager with such incredible injuries could. Then she gave into her injuries, slumping on the wall and slipping out of consciousness.
"The battle is over!" Shilus announced. "Steambot is incapacitated! Mercy is the winner!"
As the audience cheered, Shilus leaned to Dr. Juliet Norbury. "Get Mercy to her room and fix her up."
"Yes, ma'am," Dr. Norbury complied.

Mercy awoke to a substantial amount of pain. As she waited rather impatiently for her vision to clear, she thought, am I dead? Worse, did I lose?
"Are you awake?" A woman beside her said.
Mercy turned her head to her. "Am I dead?" she asked weakly.
"No," the woman replied. "You just fought Steambot, remember? You won."
She turned to the celling. "Yay," she said in a happy but monotone voice. Then she noticed her arm in a sling. She pointed to it.
"This is going to be ready for my next fight, right?" She asked seriously.
"Mercy, aren't you in pain?"
"Yeah," she answered. "I like it." Then she noticed where she was. "What're you doing in my room?"
"My name is Doctor Juliet Wolfe Norbury. I after the fight, I helped—"
"Get out," Mercy interrupted.
Juliet stared at her.
"Get out of my room."
Juliet complied. She knew when to give her patients space. But she would be near by—Mercy was a crazy one without the anesthetics.
When the doctor left, Mercy Metford smiled lazily to herself. Wonder who the next piece of dead meat will be, she thought.