"And I thought humans were ugly… Nature can be very cruel to some people. Any chance we can outrun these evolutionary disasters?"

"Not in this traffic," said Ms. Fate. "It's so tightly packed I can't build up any speed, while those motor-bikes are weaving through the vehicles behind us. It's times like this I wish I'd invested in that air-to-surface missile system I saw in Motors of Mass Destruction magazine. Find me an open road, John, and those creepy bastards can eat my radioactive dust, but as it is… Prepare for boarding, chaps. And do try to keep them from chipping the paint-work…"

"Give me a rundown on the car's defences," I said. "What have you got that's new and nasty?"

"Not a lot, I'm afraid. The machine-guns, of course, but only at the front… The grenade launchers and the nerve-gas dispensers really need refilling; you know how expensive they are to maintain… And a few other bits and bobs, but that's basically it. I'm a street fighter, John; I don't really do that whole death from afar thing. I've always prided myself on being an old-fashioned hands-on sort of girl, dispensing personal beatings to bad guys."

"Isn't there anything you can do?" I said.

"Oh sure! I'll put on some Evanescence; that should put us in the right mood."

As the music blasted from the in-car speakers, I remembered why I only ever called on Ms. Fate for transport when there was no-one else available.

A motorcycle's roar contended fiercely with the music as a Hell's Neanderthal pulled up alongside.