Vance - 5.3

Pinned between the villain's mechanical palms, I strained with every ounce of strength I had left. The pressure was immense, my muscles burning with the effort to keep from being crushed. Blood dripped from my face, splattering onto the shattered asphalt below. My ensemble was in tatters, exposing fresh wounds, healing scars, and bloodied skin.

"Only a matter of time," the villain cackled, his voice echoing through the suit's speakers.

The SWAT team opened fire, their bullets landing in the exosuit's armor, barely penetrating the surface. One hit the visor of the suit, leaving a small crack along the right of the criminal's viewport. They continued to fire as I resisted being crushed.

The villain jeered, "Seems like everyone else here has performance issues!"

His grip tightened, and pain radiated through my body. Yet, even as fresh wounds tore open, they began to heal, my regeneration accelerating each second to keep me alive.

Desperation gave way to determination. I couldn't let this monster win. The lives of everyone here depended on me. With a guttural cry, I pushed against the mechanical hands, my fingers digging into the metal plating.

"Not... today," I growled through gritted teeth, muscles straining against the overwhelming force.

Agonizing moments ticked by, each second accentuated by the dings of dozens of rifle rounds. Slowly, painfully, I began to push the hands apart. The villain's laughter faltered, replaced by a growl of frustration as I gained ground against his technological terror.

The last of my wounds closed up, and a surge of strength coursed through me. My fingers dug deeper into the exosuit's palms, the metal creaking under the pressure as the SWAT team emptied the last of their ammunitions into the hull of the mechanical weapon.

The villain hissed, as the last of the fluid flowed into his arms and hands. The renewed force from the mech pushed his hands closer around me.

I let out a roar of defiance, gathering energy I did not know I had. With a great effort, I forced his hands farther apart. The pressure on my chest eased, and I could breathe again.

The remainder of my wounds mended. I felt strength well inside me, and with a final, herculean effort, I pushed the villain's hands wide open and wrenched myself free, ripping off panels from his hands.

"A made-man? Tonight, the only thing you'll have made is a cellmate," I said, my voice steady and strong.

The villain stumbled back, his grip broken. I stood before him, battered but unyielding. My body thrummed with renewed vigor. I launched myself forward, fists clenched and eager to return every punch. My fists became a blur as I assaulted the exterior hull with relentless fury. 

Metal plates buckled and tore away under the force of my blows. Wires and circuitry sparked and snapped, hydraulic systems hissed and whined, unable to withstand the onslaught.

I ripped the tubes containing the last traces of the emerald fluid from their sockets, the green sludge spilling onto the ground. The villain's power source dwindled, and the suit's movements grew sluggish.

Contrarily, my punches grew stronger with each strike, pummeling the exosuit into the asphalt. Bits of metal and machinery flew through the air as I tore the limbs of the suit off their joints.

I shouted in triumph, my voice echoing through the desolated scene.

The villain tried to respond, but his voice was drowned out by the sound of tearing mechanics. I cut loose, each punch fueled by a mix of righteous anger and personal vengeance. The once-mighty machine now lay on the pavement helpless, a shell of its former self without the green liquid to power it.

In a desperate move, the pilot activated the ejection seat, the chest cavity exploding open letting the thruster propel him out of the armor. But I caught the seat mid-air and slammed it back into the body of the mech, pinning the pilot against the mangled metal.

Gathering pieces from the tattered exo-suit, I shaped the metal around his arms and legs, trapping him in his seat. The suit now completely ruined, beyond any hope of salvage. The SWAT team moved in, their weapons trained on the criminal.

The leading officer announced as they advancing past me without a second glance., "You're under arrest!" 

Breathing heavily, I stepped back, releasing the tension throughout my body. I ran my fingers through my hair, slicking back the bloodied strands from my vision. Exhaustion washed over me, and my knees buckled.

I collapsed to the ground, my body finally giving in to the toll of the battle. The world around me blurred as I struggled to stay conscious. The SWAT team encircled the villain, securing him and reading him his rights. I had done my part.

As the adrenaline faded, a sense of calm settled over me. The hostages were safe, the money untouched, the villain subdued. Another fight, another victory. Glad to see my record in the courtroom follow me to the fisticuffs, but for now, all I wanted was to rest.

I closed my eyes, letting the sounds of the city wash over me, and allowed myself a moment of peace amidst the chaos.