You have to get it together, Evelyn.

Despite the clearer threat, her focus had been on Boa, a stupid oversight that was now costing her. She’d taken his bait, blinking first metaphorically, and now she and the boy would be split up.

There was hardly any time to consider nursing the wounds or dwelling on her shortcomings as the man continued his forward charge, like a miniature earthquake made all the more pronounced by senses that were far more acute than average. She dove to the side, clearing the alleyway just as Gridiron emerged, careening head first into the shell of a car on cinderblocks, sending it crashing into the street. 

Though she was no Darkstar regarding the detailed research of the city's various threats, Evelyn was familiar enough to know about Gridiron. The man was a beast; part-man, part-machine, all power and no wit. He was strong, incredibly so, and impossible to stop once he began to charge. 

So she would give him nothing to charge at.

She leaped for him, claws manifested and raised as she dug them through the tattered jersey, into the heavy steel of his shoulders, raised in shoulder-pad-like ridges, placing her feet at his back for added purchase.

He stumbled momentarily, reaching back and pawing at her uselessly, her claws disengaging and re-engaging where necessary as she moved along his back avoiding his attempts at ridding himself of her.

Finding his attempts in vain, Gridiron grunted - an eerily mechanical sound - lowering his head and turning down an open street, ending in the remnants of on old brownstone. It took only a moment for her to realize what was happening as she lowered herself, doing her best to use the man himself for cover as Gridiron broke into a charge - barrelling at a speed even greater than her own as he collided through its walls.

Another shower of brick and debris fell over her as she dug her claws in, ducking beneath the man's back and shaking her hood free of it. He came to a sudden, skidding stop, boots tearing up sections of old tiling underfoot, the momentum hurling her overhead. He was able to catch her around the waist before she could reorient, forcing her to retract her claws to avoid breaking her fingers as he ripped her free of his back. Her senses struggled to reorient her as she was tossed, sent momentarily spinning through the air before she met the opposing wall hard - the force carrying her through the brittle and waterlogged drywall.

Her back screamed, the bones seeming to rattle within her as she twisted herself mid-fall, landing upright though her spine ached, a dull throb echoing at the base of her skull. Her hand moves under her hood to the back of her head, and when it returns, its tips are red with blood. 

Gridiron mumbled something unintelligible, his foot pawing at the ground, kicking up loose carpet as he lowered into a crouch, fingertips touching the earth as the glowing display of his masked face bored into her. 

They stood in the remnants of what was once a living room, a kitchen, and a hallway on either side. To the right sits an old couch, stained and reeking with scents she was glad to ignore, a singular table beside which sat a broken folding chair though it looked to have been picked clean over the years the place as abandoned as most of the Lower End.

Good, she thought. I won’t have to feel guilty about damage. It was something she knew Darkstar had always encouraged against.

‘Those people look to us for safety, and they live with the consequences of the destruction we reap. It must be kept to a minimum.’ She could almost hear him, voice firm and chastising.

The earth shook as Gridiron charged again, this time with enough forewarning for Catspaw to ready herself. A half-flip to the side, she grits her teeth against the discomfort radiating through her. She barely avoids being caught in his charge as the mountain of a man continues through the yard and into the neighboring building.

It grants her a momentary respite, as she rose to her feet, an arm reaching for her right ribs - which ached with a sharp and throbbing pain. She was certain something had been broken, and the realization driving home just how much a gap in strength she was confronted by. She could feel just how little she could afford to take many direct blows from Gridiron, and her own speed advantage became a diminishing factor with greater time and injury.

And there was the issue of Kid Rocket. Despite herself, Evelyn was distracted, the thought of the boy having been left to confront Boa alone, even the joke that he was, filling her with an uneasiness that felt contradictory with the goal she’d set out with - ensuring he carried on the mantle of Darkstar. 

She knew he needed to be able to handle such run-of-the-mill scum, and yet she couldn’t smother that nagging need to ensure the boy’s safety - the thought of something happening to him after losing Darkstar hollowing her insides with a creeping coldness.

She needed to end it quickly.

Gridiron roared, a sound that was equal parts monstrous and mechanical as he pulled himself from the rubble of the home he’d collided through, shaking his head with a grunt.

She was moving before she could gather himself, claws drawn with that comforting familiar buzz, as she pressed. She ducked low anticipating his response, drawing back and slashing across the man's side. His jersey ripped, revealing sickly pale skin below a corded steel where his armpit ought to have been, no sign at first of any damage before a scarlet stitch appeared across it quickly flowing a dark, thick fluid like motor oil.

Another roar as he swung, though his fist moved aimlessly overhead her hood nearly ripped free with the force of it, heart leaping into her throat. She dropped low, fingers outstretched with claw-points raised, driving upwards and across the side of his chest and helmet, her slash ending in a shower of sparks. 

The arm flails for a moment, hissing, sparking, and twitching before falling uselessly to his side. His helmeted head turns, gazing quizzically at it for a moment, before glaring at her.

He growled, gums and teeth gnashing beneath the mask as he reared back for another strike, notably slower than before. The right side of his jersey and practice pants were stained with black fluid, churning out in greater amounts with the movement. Catspaw dropped into a squat, leaning to the right and letting the massive fist hurtle past her as she reared back, slashing down and across the exposed bicep. The reaction was as volatile as the first. She was forced to throw up an arm to avoid a faceful of sparks as the arm twitched, Gridiron's fist opening and closing uncontrollably. 

She reared back both arms, preparing what she hoped would be a final blow, intending to rake her claws across the front of Gridiron’s mask, damaging whatever internal mechanisms allowed him to operate. 

He’d survive, she was pretty sure.

The whistle of movement and the sudden rush of air across her skin made the hairs across her neck rise, her senses warning her in time to manage a half-leap back and throw up her hands in defense as Gridiron’s helmet collided into her with a force that sent her reeling. She sprawled, the force sending her in an uncontrolled skid across the floorboards. Her head swam, pure instinct carrying her forward in a mad dash on all fours, barely avoiding Gridiron as he rammed headfirst into the wall. 

Stupid, the thought was like molasses, her ears ringing from the force with which she’d hit the ground.

Of course he was dangerous without working arms. His main method of attack was his helmet, usually used for ramming through or into things, however the headbutt was an obvious response after robbing him of his fists. 

She needed to be smart, she realized. Turning, still lowered into a crouch in case needing the added speed she found running on all fours, she raised one hand - claws manifested at the ready. She could feel the building sway, so faint she knew the brute wouldn’t have noticed, only clear through the vibrations she could feel through the air by her hair and pads of her feet.

More rubble crumbled from the gaping hole in the wall, the second Gridiron had created in the structure. All at once, an idea formed.

He struggled to his feet, trying at first to use arms that jerked and twitched at random, before slowly making his way to his knees, rising from the rubble. Dirt and dust cling to his arms and legs, sticking to the dark fluid that all but soaked him from the waist down, running in faint trickles from the deep gouges. He turns to face her, movements notably slower and with a strain, she could see in the gritting of his exposed teeth. 

“C’mon big guy,” she purred, baring her teeth, suddenly feeling every bit the predator again as she stretched the fingers of her raised hand, the glow of her claws reflecting off of the yellow lens of her goggles.

Her body ached, and she let that pain feed into that foreign, primal sort of instinct - a familiar yet alien rage setting her muscles alight with frenetic energy. 

“Come have a go.”

He growled, a deep rumbling sound, before springing forward with a sudden speed despite the loss of so much of that strange fluid that seemed to act as blood or oil in a machine. He sprang above her, crouching to avoid his head colliding with the ceiling and landing with such force it sent his legs through the floorboards and into the earth below. Catspaw was already out of the way, moving on all fours. Her claws dug into the ground as she brought herself to a sliding skid, turning in place to face Gridiron before the beast could collect himself.

He struggled to free his legs without the use of his arms, and she leaped overhead, making sure to keep enough distance between herself and any potential headbutt. He attempted all the same in vain, and she caught the side of his helmet with her claws as she threw her weight down, yanking the man into a backbend as she landed - releasing before he could stand and pull her from her feet. 

The half-man, half-machine screamed, and it was a sound that was more rage than pain as he pulled his a leg free. The display on his mask glowed, and she imagined could feel the glaring eyes beneath them - if he’d been left with the original organs during the unfortunate procedure. Faint trickles of liquid poured from the holes her claws had bored, a mix of the familiar thick black goo and scarlet blood.

So you’ve got human bits in there, she realized. 

It made sense, his head was the most protected part of his body - of course, it would be the part to house the weakest points. She doubted her ability to cause lasting harm…but it helped to know.

He shook his head, pulling the second leg free as he rose to face her, lowering his head with a grunt like a bull. The house creaked underfoot, and she could tell this was loud enough for both to hear though Gridiron seemed umoved.

Good. She was ready.

He charged, and she was back on all fours as she slid underfoot, one clawed hand swiping at his left leg as he fell forward, colliding into the third of the home's walls, back leg breaking through floorboards as the wall began to give way.

She was moving before it could all fall into place, darting out of the opening his first attacks had left as she emerged out and into the front yard. Behind her, she could feel the rumble of the earth as the waning foundation gave way, the home sinking in on itself in a mass. 

Catspaw pulled her arms close, pulling her hood over her eyes as a billowing cloud of dust rolled over her. She didn’t have to see to hear the results, the angry grunts of Gridiron as he tried to free himself from beneath the rubble without the use of his arms. She made her way to the edge of the foundation, now a veritable rubble, keeping her eyes on what she could see of Gridiron. He was subsumed beneath brick and glass up to his shoulders, only his head and neck free as she fought against the weight.

He would live, she could tell, but hopefully, it would be enough to hold him until the authorities could cart him off to Fox Island.

She placed a foot atop the helmeted head of the villain prompting another series of angry roars as he fought in vain to free himself. Her body ached, the rib in her side searing with the exertion that told her it was almost certainly broken.

It was freeing. Familiar. It had helped her forget, for the time. Evelyn stifles a sigh at the thought, the pain in her chest making it unwelcome. She still had to talk to Kid Rocket - had to ensure the legacy would be upheld.

The thought reminded her of the boy, and the villain he’d been left with, and her heart was in her throat, ribs screaming as she began her run back to where she’d left the boy.

A sound - loud, echoed through the streets, one she recognized immediately. A gunshot.

“Nathan!” she cried dropping down, catching herself on her hands as she broke out full bore.