Ms. Fate finished fastening her midnight blue cloak about her shoulders. It suited her. The cape made her look more like an experienced crime-fighter and less like a pervert in a fetish suit. The heavy leather cape swirled about her as she drew a handful of razor-sharp silver shuriken out of her belt. In that moment, she looked every inch the real thing; because she was.

"We could drive off," I said. "Thus avoiding unnecessary blood and suffering. Just putting it forward as a possibility…"

"Don't be silly," said Ms. Fate, making fists inside her gauntlets so that the leather creaked loudly. The knuckles were reinforced with steel caps. "I have my reputation to consider."

"Sorry," I said. "Don't know what came over me. Don't suppose you've got any battle armour built into that costume?"

"Of course not. It slows me down when I'm fighting. You really mustn't worry about me, John. It's sweet, but just a touch patronising. Worry about those poor bastards."

Her right hand whipped forward, with a practised snap of the wrist, and a silver shuriken flashed through the air to bury itself in the nearest trooper's left tit. It punched right through his body armour and buried itself deep in the pectoral muscle. Blood spurted on the air as the force of the blow slammed him back onto his arse. Well trained, though, he didn't make a sound as his fellow troopers trampled right over him in their eagerness to get to us.

"Some people would take a hint," said Ms. Fate. "But I can see we're going to have to do this the hard way. Up close and personal."

"Best way," said Lord Screech.

I looked at him, and couldn't keep from raising an eye brow. "Are you seriously proposing to involve yourself in a common brawl? I didn't think your kind lowered themselves to simple fisticuffs and putting the boot in."