Save a Princess, Slay a Dragon

Arstotska was one of those small, barely known Eastern European countries than sprung out of nowhere overnight and now had an embassy in New York, in one of the newly built financial districts. Sadly, the embassy had barely been open a month when someone decided that the imposing classical Greek-styled building with its gold plated walls, columns, pediments and other Greek architectural elements was a bit too good to pass up a target.

One fine brisk morning the street where the Embassy was located erupted into chaos. A Giant Mecha in black paint with flame decals, standing roughly three storeys tall, decided one day to just drop from the sky and begin blasting away with its giant chest laser. The medieval dressed Embassy guards fight back with assault rifles, but that proved about as useful as using harsh words on the thing. It already collapsed a whole section of wall, revealing offices within, and was determined to keep up this attack. Police and Meta Response Division arrive, but the robot used its extending limbs to flip their vehicles over.

Some passersby, jaded to all these attacks going on, just looked at the incident and shrugged, resuming ordering their hotdogs. Just another crazy day in New York.

All she had wanted was to finish her morning rounds, but someone just had to make things complicated. Due to the massive mechanical creature's size, traffic started piling up by the mile. Grace was getting caught at almost every stoplight. She wasn't too keen on showing off her speed in public, so she had kept it strictly to a jog level today. But of course, the universe had a bone to pick with her. By the time the girl heard the screams through her music, she had taken out her earbuds and looked down the street. "Oh sugar honey iced tea..." she had grumbled before speeding into the nearest apparel store. One of the cashiers at the counter grew very disturbed by the sudden gust, but was even more surprised when a teenager in a black spandex and purple-colored armor suit emerged from the changing room. "Don't worry about it, I'm only here to help." Grace grumbled and waved before vanishing.

She emerged before the mecha with a squinted gaze. She was fueled up and ready to go, but she still had no idea as to how she was supposed to take this thing down. "Hey, you up there! Can you hear me?" Grace shouted with cupped hands. Someone had to of built this thing, so she assumed it probably had microphones or something along those lines. Was it intimidating, yes. Was she a little panicky already, maybe. 'Keep your cool, you can handle this...'

Upon closer inspection, and probably to the speedster's heightened reflexes, she would have a good amount of time to see the Mech's less than perfect construction. It used less than contemporary materials and frankly, resembled something from the cold war or older, given all the fumes it was exhausting and all the big bulky cables that were exposed. The mech had lots of welds and rivet patches. For all its repairs though, the thing was still an effective war machine.

The thing pivoted 180 degrees at the waist, the cockpit now facing Dispatch. The pilot was protected by a glass canopy atop the mech, but aside from height and the glass, little else protected the pilot.

"Oh what is this? Little girl think she is superhero?!" The pilot was European, and arrogant, loudspeakers in the mech letting him communicate with the outside world. His chest laser cannon was still charging, and so settled on dealing with Dispatch using a shoulder mounted gatling gun. The thing revs up for a moment, then immediately begins spewing hundreds of bullets Dispatch's way, the weapon's signature high pitched sound filling the air.

The sudden screech of the speakers was enough the make Dispatch flinch, so the bullets were just sprinkles on the cake. Her legs worked on their own and got her out of the way and behind the mecha, but it didn't leave her unscathed. Not too used to bullets whirring towards her, she hadn't been too effective in dodging them all. One scraped her shoulder, leaving a noticeable mark. "Now was that called for?" She murmured, looking at the office building her had smashed.

"I don't think you can hear me too well, all the way up there." Dispatch bent her knees then sprinted up the stairs of the office building up to floor that had the gaping hole that had been caused by the war machine. "This any better?" She called out, easing her hands in a questionable manner. As she did this, Disoatch noticed her wound was starting to close.

Dispatch was about to slam down some justice on the mecha, but someone's ranting kept her from going through with it. She could barely hear what he was trying to say, to be honest, but she decided to attempt at replying. "Don't worry, guy, I got this covered." The girl replied, a brow raised. Looking at a clock on one of the desks, which miraculously was still functioning, she noted that this was taking way longer than she would've preferred. "Alright, mech' , we gonna do this or not?" She grinned and bent her knees, leaping onto the machine.

The Mech's rudimentary sensors tracked Dispatch. Wrecker fails to get the Mech's pilot attention, super speaking power not listed in his profile.

"Argh! Get outta me way already!" No, it seemed the pilot was content to monologue, having no way of practically hearing them. Infact, he would just ignore Wrecker and continue plowing through the building, using its big mech arm to rip into the embassy, even if Dispatch got in the way. It reaches the blast doors of the main office and rips them from the hinges, causing great alarm with the embassy guard.

"The King! Get to the King!" they would shout, racing to the main office, where a bunch of men in suits were guarding an important looking older man in a suit...

Only when the speedster decided to start something, did the dieselpunk mecha decide to try and shake her off. By shifting some levers, he causes the Mecha to start shaking violently.