It was just another ordinary day in the workshop, and she was in the groove. Just deep enough in the madness place to bend, without being so deep as to break. She wields the steam-powered hand saw with deft motions, cutting part roughs from iron billets and rods with the ultra-hard blade and thinking about how it will all balance so elegantly when it comes together. Weight and counterweight and spin and inertia...

She is humming 'The City Must Survive' and ignoring the showers of sparks on her heavy waxed work clothes, ignoring Mr. Vikkers, her assistant and minder for this shift. (It's best not to think too much about the minders. They're here to help. To steer her away from the deeper madness.) Well! Usually she has more finished parts to work with, but it's so much faster to just make them herself-

There's a loud thump and a crash behind her. She turns to see some sort of monstrosity thrashing around. It has mirror for a face and it's- IT'S WRECKING THE LOADER ARM! ALL HER HARD WORK!

She's supposed to run for cover. Mr. Vikkers is- Pulled the big red lever on the wall, and a steel shield descends around him as an alarm sounds.

The anger overrides that.

"Who do you think you ARE, barging in here! Wrecking MY WORK!"

All she has to wield against it is a hand saw and whatever is lying around her. She has bare seconds to make something- Her eyes turn to the acetylene torch and its tank of flammable gas- But seconds are not enough. It orients to her and lunges. She lashes forward at the image of herself in its maw with the power saw, the only weapon at hand-