My name is Princess Blaze, the Cat.
In all likelihood, it is my title that catches your interest, as it does most others. I've found it bears certain connotations, which utterly fail to convey the... difficulties of the post.
Of the nine robots in front of me, only four have aimed their guns at me. The rest are scattered along the x-axis, as determined by a random number generator, in an attempt to limit my movements. I disregard those five. I have no intention of fleeing.
Let me inform you, then, that there is little joy to be had in the life of royalty. Imagine, if you will, that you have no say in the most fundamental aspects of your life. Imagine that in place of peers, you have politicians, with practiced smiles and hidden agendas. Your education, your interests, your future... all of these things have been predetermined. Imagine living your life devoid of familial warmth.
I will not have time to reach the four Pawns, but I will not have to. I will fire into my clawed hands, shaping them into liquid orbs, adding enough cohesion to be thrown, and release them. My aim, guided by my subconscious, ensures they reach their targets. Gunfire erupts before me, bullets finding purchase in the ground around me, but I am unharmed, as predicted. I lower myself, and close the distance.
Such was my life, and I did not lament it overly. I merely adapted. I became that which was required of me. I learned words wielded well were weapons, and I armed myself as best I could. I did away with thoughts of friends, family, and love. I had neither the time nor the privacy to enjoy them regardless. I was to be a living image of perfection, unfaltering and unwavering. Mercy without leniency. Grace without frailty. Strength without hostility. I would be a queen who ruled justly, fairly, and wisely. What significance did my wants and needs merit, weighed against that on an entire nation? No, I knew my path, the one laid out for me, and I walked it proudly.
My fist connects with the nearest Pawn, imbued with the full force of my advance. The metal plating parts easily, and I pull the power source from it's chest. Throwing the core at my next target, it doesn't take much to ignite the volatile chemicals within, and it detonates like a grenade a moment after impact, shrapnel perforating the thin armor. Three remain.
It was not to be. My kingdom is dust. My lineage, forgotten. Those ideals I struggled to embody are all that remain of my days in the palace. I cast aside my family name, my history, my purpose, my life, and I created a new one for myself. I stand alone against a steel tide, armed with claws and fire. I embraced the abilities I strove to hide. I keep my title, only as a reminder of who I am, and everything that entails.
I pull the metal husk into place between myself and the furthest of the Pawns, and it rings with the impact of a dozen rounds. My other hand slings another fireball, and the second furthest falls. I throw my makeshift shield away, counting on the tracking software's delay in distinguishing me from the sudden motion. In that time, I jet towards the closest target, a jagged half-circle, keeping it from anticipating my movement. I throw it to the ground with one arm, completing my spin and hammering a plated boot into it's visor, fire at my heel. The metal skull shatters. One remains.
My name is Princess Blaze, the Cat.
I have little time before the final robot opens fire. I have no cover, and cannot attack from this distance easily. I gather my strength, throwing my hands out, and detonating the very air around me, the light and energy momentarily shielding me from conventional, thermal, and IR view. In the next instant, I am airborne, like a loosed arrow, fashioning my flames into afterburners, hearing them roar behind me as I race to intercept my last opponent before it recovers it's sight. I will not make it, though. It knows my location from memory, and levels the gun blindly. As a final gambit, I throw fire into the ground, debris leaping into my path, bullets ricocheting chaotically against stone as I close the few remaining feet. I twist under the worst of it, knock the barrel of the gun aside, and lance an arm through the Pawn, feeling it break around me like a child's toy.
My enemies always fall before me.