Hell. This was hell. This was definitely HELL.<br/><br/>Fighting a human opponent was one thing - there was so much soft places, so many spots that could be exploited, so many points that could be struck and cause agonizing, incapacitating pain. Besides, humans had blood that could be manipulated. Turrets were only chunks of metal, plastic, and circuits. An electricity bender would be big help... He released a sigh. At least the turrets weren't concentrating on him. Their focus was, for now, on the others. Kensaki didn't feel much like self-sacrificing, and thus he'd be happier if it stayed that way, but he understood that he needs these people to get out of here.<br/><br/>He'd do something...<br/><br/>Staying out in the open would be dangerous. Scrambling to his feet, he rushed behind one of the pillars, hoping to go by unnoticed. A part of him sincerely cared about at least that white-haired girl, who so relentlessly threw herself into the fray to destroy the large turret. It was a considerable success, taking into regard how he viewed most humans.<br/><br/>A snake of red curled itself around his right hand, thin, but strong, pressing against his skin. He put his hand onto the pillar, letting the scarlet slither down it, quickly sliding along the surface of the pillar and down it. For now, it was almost liquid, moving so quickly across the floor, to reach its first turret. It would climb up it, invade its insides through any crack, any crevice, and once inside, twirling around the circuits, it would press them with a crushing force and destroy the turret from the inside. Riskier than just blindly firing blood-bullets at the turrets, but at least he wouldn't risk harming the others, or hitting something completely off guard.<br/><br/>Something brushed against his head. As he was peering from behind the pillar, he must have been noticed. The warmth of blood, trickling down his skin, switched some sort of internal psychical state on - it was like green on the headlights to him. He slowly raised his fingers to his temple to assure himself it was just that, blood, and marks of red that were left on his paper-pale fingertips only assured him off it. Damn.<br/><br/>Screw thinking about fighting the turrets elaborately.<br/><br/>Drop after drop of crimson blood were collected into small pellets and madly fired at anything that was nearby and moving with disgusting metallic clicking.