- He's cut off mid-sentence as she punches him in the face. 

He goes down, hard - not just down but back, the force of her blow sending him flying across the room. He slams into one of the stalls - through it - into the wall. 

Several things sound like they just broke. He's probably one of them. 

The woman takes an almost surprised step back - 

And then the guy's friend shouts, "You sympathizer bitch - !" and tries to pull his gun. 

She punches him almost reflexivly. He goes flying into a different stall.

There's a lot of people shouting. Security closing in on her, assuming this is an argument that turned into a brawl, trying to break it up - 

She looks at them. She looks at the crying machine. She looks at other machines, cringing in corners or slouching despondently. She looks at the pathway to the still cheering - heckling - crowds. 

And something snaps.

A gun manifests in her hands in a flash of gold. She shoots down one of the security guards - spins and shoots the other - 

One bullet each, and they're dead. 

There's a lot of people reaching for weapons now. 

"Warning," says a box floating beside her. "The current course of action is not advised."

"Too fucking late." She opens fire on anyone pointing a gun at her. 

When the first shot is fired, Martin scrambles to protect the machine cowering on the floor, shielding them with his body as best he can. 

Ivy steps off to the side, finding a good vantage point from which to observe the melee. 

Kit started grinning when the first punch was thrown, and laughing in delight when it was followed up with a second. 

He doesn't bother getting himself or his crew out of the line of fire; if they get shot, they'll heal. Instead, he hangs around, tripping people who try to flee, jogging their elbows as they're about to fire so they hit their friends instead, and generally adding to the chaos. He laughs the whole time. 

She pulls out her swords once things get chaotic enough for melee - her Pod floats above her, droning out analytics on those around her, dropping some kind of forcefield to defend her from projectiles - 

She's fucking deadly, even as a girl in a tight-fitted black top and miniskirt comes running from the back rooms, a small and plain but well made sword in her hands - 

"You survived the fall of YoRHa and this is what you're doing?!?!" the woman shouts at the newcomer. "You fucking coward!" She closes - the newcomer's strong on the defense, stronger than anyone else who's been fighting - 

It buys her maybe a couple extra seconds of life, before the woman cuts through her neck and she collapses. 

"Anybody else want to fucking go?!" the woman shouts. "Any of you fucking cowards got a good excuse for this bullshit?! You're supposed to be soldiers! Where the fuck are your posts? You're as bad as the enemy!"

That enrages a few people who'd previously been inclined to get the fuck out - causes an upswell in anger, hardens resolve, and several start trying to actually coordinate mobbing her - 

She bares her teeth and restarts her dance. 

Her enemies don't last long, no matter how powerful. And machine lifeforms start attacking her too - many of them crying out in fear, begging for their lives - 

She shouts something at her Pod, and a wave of crackling energy disables her opponents - she kills any androids this took down, leaves the machines - sets off at a blinding sprint, a shock wave trailing around and behind her, to work her way through the facility and kill anyone hiding behind their slave army - 

She's quick, and the machine lifeforms very very quickly stop fighting, instead blinking in confusion and looking around. "Are - are we free?" one asks, its yellow eyes flickering.

And then the woman skids back into the room. She was gone maybe thirty seconds, definitely far less than a minute. "From these assholes," she says, stabbing the larger of her swords into the ground. Her guns and the smaller sword return to their sheathes in golden sparkles, and the Pod comes to float beside her. 

Then she turns to eye the Mechanisms - she hasn't tried to attack anyone who wasn't showing aggression to her, so she hasn't done anything to them. "Thanks for shielding him," she says to Martin, almost grudgingly. Then, to Kit: "I didn't need the assist."

"No, you did not," he says with open admiration.

"I hardly did anything, really, it just feels wrong to be standing around while there's a perfectly good brawl going on. You, though—you were incredible."

Suspicious blink. "Fighting is what I do."

"And you do it so well."

He bows. "Kit Sinistre, at your service." 

"...I'm Gunner number Thirteen. People keep calling me G13."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Gunner number Thirteen." 

Because that wasn't, exactly, an invitation to use that nickname, so until he has a better sense of how she feels about it—or gets a more explicit invitation—he'll go with the name she introduced herself by. 

"I'm Martin, and our friend over there who's forgotten to introduce herself is Ivy." 

Ivy looks up from poking at the exposed wiring sticking out of a downed android. 

"All of the bodies I have examined so far are androids," she reports. "There is a ninety-one point seven percent probability that Gunner number Thirteen is an android as well." 

She snorts. "Just ninety one point seven percent? I'm insulted. What do you think I am, a fucking machine lifeform?"

"You are highly unlikely to be baseline human, but that only rules out one possibility out of thousands. There are enough strange things in the universe that it's difficult to account for all the unknowns," Ivy explains calmly. 

She squints. "You saying you're not from this planet?"

 "Oh, right, I forgot to mention. We're space pirates! This is..." He shrugs. "Eh, let's call it a vacation." 

Martin quietly goes around the room checking whether any of the rescued machines are in urgent need of repairs, fuel, or anything else.

A bunch need repairs! Including the disassembled mother of the crying stubby that kicked all this off. She... Needs a lot of repairs.

Martin wouldn't call himself a mechanic, but he's done enough repairs on himself over the years that he knows his way around a spanner. He reassures the crying child (they might or might not be a child, but that's how he's subconsciously thinking of them) that he is going to do his very best to help their mother.

Do any of the machines want to help him find the tools and spare parts to repair this poor lady? (And if he's really lucky, one of them might have some experience with repairing other machines and will know what to do.)