Aztech had just been on patrol around Santa Monica, soaking up some sun, when Mefisto zoomed in out of the sky like the fist of a very unhappy god, smashed him through a building or three, then threw him a mile or five down the boulevard. That all happened in about 4 very confused seconds, which, (he didn't know whether luckily or unluckily) was not the hardest he'd ever been hit. He'd blame Suit's sensor package, but Mefisto had never shown up on them before anyway. Stupid demons.
At any rate, Suit was screaming a damage assessment at him: aerial stabilizers offline, HUD was messed up something fierce (even messed up battery life display, it was flickering between 97% and 43% every two seconds like clockwork), goo gun gummed up from a misfire, thermal lance optics defocused and functioning at 40% efficiency, shielding was flickering (meaning the capacitors were probably out of alignment). Suit said he'd need about four minutes for self-repair to get everything going again, but that probably meant ten or so since Mefisto wasn't exactly keen on letting up, and he wasn't going to try and go Green and get to somewhere safe a couple miles out to fix himself up without the stabilizers. He'd just fall out of the sky and have more problems to fix up.
At any rate, Suit's self-repair protocols were burning current like it was going out of style, which was a pretty big part of what was keeping Aztech in the game here. Hopefully he could just channel his inner Ali and just float like a butterfly for a couple minutes, just long enough for the shock gloves to get a good charge up, then he could start swinging back. Mefisto didn't have a whole lot of staying power once he started getting hit. Glass jaw, or glass cannon, or something his nephew was always saying. Glass definitely featured in there somewhere.
"I will tear that mask off your face, pendejo, and then all the world will know that you have been dishonored at my hands!" his opponent roared, spittle flying out of a mouth with far too many teeth that were far too sharp, and unfortunately spattering on the faceplate, even as he nailed Aztech with another glancing blow that still cracked the plating on his upper forearm.
A demon luchadore. It wasn't the weirdest gimmick out there, not by a long shot, but god-damn if he wasn't a heavy hitter for someone who was, at best, a C-list villain (The Times had a table of his villains over the years, and public opinion had shelved Mefisto pretty far down in the C-list. This town made a spectacle out of everything.). Frankly, he'd probably try to figure out a more permanent solution to this problem (an exorcism or something? Did those work on demons, or was that just ghosts?), if it wasn't for the fact that Mefisto was 1) incredibly stupid most of the time, 2) not all that big a threat anyway. Guy just wanted a fight every now and then, and sure, souls or whatever, but luckily he was a pretty lousy dealmaker. Really, if he'd just pick these fights somewhere where Aztech didn't need to worry about 'property damage' or 'innocent bystanders', he'd be a lot happier to slug it out with him. The desert or something. Send a letter a couple days in advance, you know, get an RSVP.
"Thermal lance at 98% and powered up; shock gloves at 85%," Suit notified him even as Mefisto delivered an uppercut that launched him a couple hundred feet up. "Breastplate at 43% integrity. Rerouting repair nanites. Additionally, you have a call from LAW HQ."
Great. Probably Shrike looking to vent at him about that 'Detroit Firebug' again.
"Can you get them to hold? I'm kind of in the middle of something."
"Flagged: Urgent."
Dammit. Definitely Shrike. He was already groaning even as he cratered into the asphalt below him, and Mefisto pulled back his fist, crowing his exultation at 'finally unmasking the Son of Quetzalcoatl' or whatever stupid thing he was thinking today, before a 50-mW pulse from the thermal lance punched him center mass, a look of confusion blooming on his face even as Aztech knocked all the expression off it with a fist of his own and the 200,000 volt door gift it brought with it (a little something extra to really blow the lights out, since it wasn't like a little electricity was going to kill a proper demon anyway).
As Mefisto slumped insensate to the ground, a few tendrils of static still playing off his mask, Aztech let out a sigh. "Accept the call. I'll need to arrange pickup for this lug anyway."