5. Ribbon-style flow crusher

                                    

                                          
My threat assessment module spiked. A little late there, buddy.
The impact knocked me to the floor. It felt like being hit by a projectile weapon.
As my face hit the floor (ow), I replayed the footage. She'd ejected a ribbon-style blade from its housing. The spinning blade had struck me in the shoulder. The projectile's trajectory tore a jagged hole across my back.
(I'm not sure and I'm never going to check, but) I think the blade sliced my organic tissue into the grated floor below us. There's nothing quite like being reminded that I'm made out of meat.
Objectively the injury was a deep gash. Subjectively it felt like she'd punched a hole right where my sternum should be and liquefied my muscular tissue. I could feel inorganic parts exposed to air. A steady flow of fluids gushed from my injury. My right arm popped out of my socket.
I writhed on the putrid floor with pain radiating from my injury. (The part of my brain that wasn't screaming told me that the blade was a ribbon-style flow crusher used for blending dry solids. Thanks, brain. What a big help.)
I had plenty of time to feel stupid, too. Mixing blades were supposed to be used for machines to mix chemicals. I didn't even know that they could be weaponized like this.
I dialed back my pain sensors so that I could try to calm down. I settled for labored breathing.
If she had hit me in the face instead of my back, she could have killed me. I should never have come back.
I smelled like death. Not pleasant when you're focusing on breathing to avoid an involuntary shutdown.
My arm laid next to me like garbage. I stared at it in disbelief. Mandali had disarmed me. Ha ha. (Sorry.) 
Well, that was one way to fix my injured shoulder. Ha. (Sorry again.) 
As my senses came back to me, I realized that if I failed, I'd become garbage too. 
I laid there for a while longer to let my veins seal, which would minimize fluid loss. I watched through the cameras to see what Mandali would do next. She at least had the decency to seem horrified by her own actions. I killed the whole surveillance system. I didn't want whoever had been responsible to have evidence that I was still alive.
Mandali had ruined my outfit and torn through several layers of clothing. That was the unforgivable part. (Note: sarcasm.) (I wore four layers of clothing. Not for warmth, but because it made me feel safe somehow.) (Also it's great for quickly changing my appearance while in crowded transit rings. Now all of the shirts would be conspicuous.)
My inorganic parts had wrecked the mixing blade, so she wouldn't be able to cut me again.
Then again, there were five other mixing blades listed in inventory. She could get a new one.
I shoved to my feet, unsteady. My organic vision flashed white and diagnostics yelled at me to minimize movement. I had to neutralize her.
Mandali dropped the mixing blade housing and took three steps backward. "No, wait..." she said. "No. Please, please—"
I didn't say anything. I advanced on her, intending to kill her. She scrambled back into the proprietary room. I caught the door before she could close it. She stumbled.
For an instant my shadow eclipsed her. Something in her eyes looked so vulnerable. She was helpless. Like Cyan.
I only needed one arm to break hers.
She screamed. It was blood-curdling. The humans in eyesight made themselves scarce.
"Shut up," I said.