[ Hana's recall had always been her 'ace'. Here and now, though? Fleets of Meka were not in high abundance. They worked with what they got. Hana fixed and salvaged most of her more ambitious attempts that ended in a "Nerf This!" callout. Through updates in the recent years, Hana knows how precious her Meka was, how much she relies on it – more than she can rely on herself at time. When Winston drops that bad news – that one of the few remaining units were not ready for disembarking to her... she feels helpless. The salvage team was already en-route, but it does not use to know her machine would be out of commission for days, if not weeks during maintenance.
There are times, uncharacteristically, she would sulk – but now – no. Hana stumbles to her feet with her gun aimed. Firing a few green-sparked shots in Slade's direction when Dick found himself in quite the pickle. There wasn't time for her to lament and wish she had Meka with her. A handful of shots were bringing her back to reality. It wasn't ill-aimed, she goes for weak spots. His collarbone, his bicep – something to loosen the grip and try and get him off. If the energy bullet pierces his suit, so be-it but she was more desperate to try and pry them apart. Give Nightwing a chance to breathe. ]
Save the beef for a burger, idiot!
[ Not like she's a tsundere, just angry – okay. By now, she's getting the impression her gun was the equivalent of a fly - buzzing around and just causing annoyance. Hana drops it with a mad dash, scooping up the two escrima sticks tightly between her gloved grasp. They feel foreign, feel heavier than she'd imagine – but the electricity doesn't spark just yet. Hana kicks sand up, rushing towards the two without common sense at all. Slade has no 'weapon' in his arm by the time he was focusing his strength to break the non-bat, and that was the level Hana thinks she can take him. An overarched swing slams one stick directly down into the side of his shoulder – almost as if it was some swan song for Slade's attempt to take Nightwing's. Her second swing was caught at the wrist, nearly breaking it right then and there. It was close to it, making her fumble the stick directly next to Nightwing. Hm. He bats her off easily, sending her rolling back into the sand with a sobbed gut-wrenching grunt, leaving Deathstroke to focus his attention down for merely a moment – enough for Hana's electrified stick to be thrown with all the force she could muster to any of his upper extremities, preferring a 'headshot' above all else but... we'll see if it hits. ]
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There are times, uncharacteristically, she would sulk – but now – no. Hana stumbles to her feet with her gun aimed. Firing a few green-sparked shots in Slade's direction when Dick found himself in quite the pickle. There wasn't time for her to lament and wish she had Meka with her. A handful of shots were bringing her back to reality. It wasn't ill-aimed, she goes for weak spots. His collarbone, his bicep – something to loosen the grip and try and get him off. If the energy bullet pierces his suit, so be-it but she was more desperate to try and pry them apart. Give Nightwing a chance to breathe. ]
Save the beef for a burger, idiot!
[ Not like she's a tsundere, just angry – okay. By now, she's getting the impression her gun was the equivalent of a fly - buzzing around and just causing annoyance. Hana drops it with a mad dash, scooping up the two escrima sticks tightly between her gloved grasp. They feel foreign, feel heavier than she'd imagine – but the electricity doesn't spark just yet. Hana kicks sand up, rushing towards the two without common sense at all. Slade has no 'weapon' in his arm by the time he was focusing his strength to break the non-bat, and that was the level Hana thinks she can take him. An overarched swing slams one stick directly down into the side of his shoulder – almost as if it was some swan song for Slade's attempt to take Nightwing's. Her second swing was caught at the wrist, nearly breaking it right then and there. It was close to it, making her fumble the stick directly next to Nightwing. Hm. He bats her off easily, sending her rolling back into the sand with a sobbed gut-wrenching grunt, leaving Deathstroke to focus his attention down for merely a moment – enough for Hana's electrified stick to be thrown with all the force she could muster to any of his upper extremities, preferring a 'headshot' above all else but... we'll see if it hits. ]