>AGI DC: Autopass: Advantage

The emergency exit slams open with a forceful kick, crashing straight into the automaton and shattering its fragile sense of balance. Servos whir and click with frantic speed as it staggers away, but your opening salvo turns out to be less effective than you originally anticipated; it doesn't quite topple over, and it's already beginning to recover.

Ah, well. You set your hopes high and expectations low; this, too, is well within the bounds of your plan. Either way, the first strike is yours.

>STR DC: 15/20/35
>|Halved by Advantage| DC: 8/10/15 | Roll: 8
>[Bare Success: EXP NULLIFIED (Character Gen)]

As you lunge for the bot, the Doubt shields its face with its blade, attempting to ward you off. It deflects your charge somewhat, bleeding momentum, but the tight confines of the stairwell mean you were never really relying on that much to begin with.

Teeth grit, you duck beneath the flailing sword, narrowly avoiding a nasty scratch from its curved, rust-pocked tip. Droplets of sticky liquid splatter across your face with its passing, but you can hardly get any filthier than you already are.

>AGI DC: 7/12 | Roll: 11
[Bare Success: EXP NULLIFIED (Character Gen)]

No time to think. One hand, scarred and leathery, jerks the overextended limb forward. With such a high-set center of gravity, it's easy to pull the Doubt into your tempo. With your other hand, you scrabble for the black cables that act as its tendons, twisting it up in your grip. If you can just tear it apart–

In a display of terrible rudeness, the Doubt interrupts your thoughts by leaning in and slamming its steel-plated face against your skull.

Your head snaps back, stars popping across your vision–

>CON DC: 12 | Roll: 13
[Full Success: EXP NULLIFIED (Character Gen)]

–and a bloodthirsty grin rips across your face as you shove back.

Your neck strains with the effort, but the automaton slowly, surely begins to give ground. This certainly won't do your nascent concussion any favors, but you find that you simply don't care. Your blood is pumping, sweat beading–a guttural snarl tears free from chapped lips, overwriting the hissing servos and grinding gears churning within your opposition.

You will win, and you will survive.

>+2 to STR

Conviction reignited, you twist your grip, tangled wires digging into tanned flesh, and yank downwards.

>STR DC: 10 | Roll: 13
[Full Success: EXP NULLIFIED (Character Gen)]

With a crisp twang, the cable snaps. The oversized gear acting as its elbow spins wildly, then clatters to the ground. The lethal limb detaches with little fanfare.

Now a good 10 pounds lighter, the Doubt - quite literally disarmed - lurches to the side, balance utterly lost. It twists to gaze at you through its crimson lens, sparking and flaring. Black tar drips from its wound, splashing to the floor to mingle with spilled blood.

[2/4]

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Pay Your Taxes Quest (Project Moon) - File 1