Fire won't melt her claws no matter how hot it gets, but it will sear her flesh and take forever to heal. She skips the head and drops onto its shoulder, her foot claws sinking into it to keep her holding on as she uses both hands to start sawing at the arm socket, severing it at the base; the arm drops and hits the ground, leaving a dent. That's one, but it's still got the other.

And it's caught on to her; after a moment it starts emitting a high-pitched whining, nearly too high for human ears to hear, but she hears it plain as day. Her hands clap over her ears as it keeps screeching (horribly distorted by virtue of the fact that its face is mostly melted off), the sound reverberating in her head. It's not high or loud enough to burst her eardrums and render her deaf, that would defeat the point, but just enough to disorient her.

She lets go and drops the ground, breaking both ankles on impact, but they heal almost immediately and she's running, putting distance between them until the noise stops. She's thinking they could really use a third backup. She finds him -- oh, good, he's not dead -- but spins immediately to look at the Sentinel. It's blinded and flailing, one-armed, its head burning and interfering with its ability to sense the world around it. They have a few minutes -- maybe a few seconds -- before it figures out which direction they're in. She needs to cut that damn head off, but getting closer is going to be a problem now that it's figured out a good strategy to disable her.

By the way, hi, John, she's still not dead, somehow.