It was late and Alistair was reading in his bedroom. Obviously having temporarily patched up their differences, he could hear Rocket and Julian deep in conversation. Rocket opened the crates with a crow bar and itemised the contents; Julian called 'check'. Alistair put down his book and got up, arriving at a room at the end of the hall being utilised as a makeshift warehouse. Watching Julian mark off the inventory, Rocket could be heard but was nowhere to be seen. Delilah, with her back to Alistair, sat noiselessly in a corner, maintaining parts of her exposed endoskeleton.

"You should be in bed," Delilah advised, using her sixth sense to announce his appearance. "Asleep."

"Couldn't sleep," Alistair shrugged.

"Don't make me medicate you," Delilah warned as he watched on curiously as she topped up her synth-fluids and integrated a fresh servo that would allow her arm to convert to Gatling gun mode twice as fast as before.

"Keep from under Rocket's feet," Delilah added as she soldered the connectors.

"Shoot 'em ups...ten packs of ten," Rocket itemised; Alistair did a double take, unable to see the soldier.

"Check," Julian repeated, neatly ticking off the manifest.

"Rocket?" He felt a faint draught on the back of his neck, which was followed by a playful jab to his right kidney.

"Gotcha!" Rocket frightened as Alistair jumped out of his skin.

Materialising beside him, Rocket shot him a mischievous grin.

"How do you like Hamley's new toy?" Rocket asked, showing off some serious bling. "Should help me with the ladies."

"Rohypnol wouldn't help you with the ladies," Julian remarked while Rocket handed Alistair a knuckle thick, polished titanium ring with a sparkly blue rock embedded in the band.

"Very funny Julian," Rocket said bemusedly, before turning back to Alistair. "This Imperceptibility ring is still in the prototype stage. Hamley hasn't worked out the energy limitations but I reckon by the time he gets to Version 2, it will be very, very nifty."

"That's pretty cool," Alistair said, sliding it down his finger. Instantly he disappeared. "Hey...where did I go!?!"

"Julian...do you hear someone?" Rocket feigned, pretending to search high and lo for the boy.

"I could do with one of these for school," he mused. Julian tersely snatched the ring off Alistair's imperceptible finger and the boy reappeared.

"It's not a toy my dear," Julian said, popping the imperceptibility ring back in to its secured case. "We only have two imperceptibility rings and they might just be the difference between success and failure on Christmas Day. The effects don't last long and the rings are a nuisance to re-charge. So until then, I'll look after the bling."

"What is all this other stuff?" Alistair asked poking his nose in to an open case.

"Alistair," Delilah warned. Rocket waved Alistair over and together they leaned in to a crate whilst Rocket pulled plastic containers from the shredded packing material and handed him a packet of luminous orbs.

"Sparklers, dozen-pack, case of 50," Rocket counted out to Julian who again ticked off the manifest.

"Take a peep at this," Rocket cooed, holding up a plump round for Alistair to admire. "Pulse shells - spiffy eh? This will frizzle-fry the Guard's armour and leave them a quivering mess!"

"Cor!" cheered Alistair.

"Now check these slugs out," Rocket gushed. "Carbon-fibre, hollow back electro discharge compressed air pellets that we call 'ticks' cause they burrow in and are very bloody irritating. You should hear them whistle through the air. Cop one of these in the gut and you're in a whole world of hurt."

"How so?" Alistair asked.

"The Futurist Guards battle armour is a cybernetic integrated shielding and combat system. Because of all the electronic whiz-bangery, this little pellet cracks the armour's outer shell then deploys a high voltage charge to their circuitry which in turn causes the armour to malfunction and give our little friend a painful jolt. How rad is that?"

Alistair didn't know what rad meant, but judging from Rocket's grin, it had to be good.

"You should see the high velocity slimers Snowblind uses. If the winds are right, he can knock a Aerofexoff its perch from Paris."

"What's a slimer?" Alistair asked and Rocket rummaged through the crate and produced an example.

"The slimer is a projectile capsule filled with a high-tack acidic liquid residue that burns the armour's outer shell and as it bubbles and sizzles, the molecules expand rapidly, like shaving foam. Eventually, the armour buckles under the strain and neutralises the Guard. End up looking like the Michelin Man. Snowblind never misses, so if he's around, keep your head down, eh?"

Alistair rolled the bullet around in his fingers and shuddered. Rocket slapped a matey hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry Alistair, we're not animals...we don't shoot to kill. The Queen forbids the use of 'real' bullets in her forces. Oh sure, we pack a wallop but we're a bunch on cunning stunts with our arsenal. Our job is to neutralise the enemy and leave them with bruises and headaches. Our hit rate is 99.9 per cent, our kill rate is 0. Hamley has designed a whole range of what he calls pacifistic weapons he calls 'mollifiers'. You should check out his battle tank!"

"Delilah is programmed not to miss," Alistair said recounting their rooftop escapade. "Made mince meat of a squad of Guards trying to take me in for processing."

Rocket leaned in and as if to share a secret half-whispered in Alistair's ear.

"She ain't Royal Forces, now is she?" he winked. Alistair handed back the slimer as Rocket searched the crate to find more goodies.

"Where's Chelsea?" Rocket enquired, "You two seem to be as thick as thieves," he added and Alistair shrugged.

"Plotting, I assume," Julian said sarcastically under his breath.

"She's very shrewd," Rocket laughed as he prised off another crate lid with the crowbar. "Her machine gun mouth and sassafras stance keep all of us on our toes."

"Our young Chelsea seems misunderstood," Delilah piped up; both men laughed.

"What's the difference between Chelsea and a Rottweiler?" Rocket asked then answered. "The lipstick."

"Shall I knock you in to line Mr Savage?" Delilah enquired, turning around swinging her detached left arm. Her furrowed brow was a definite sign she was not amused.

"Holy cow!" Alistair gasped.

"I think I'm good," Rocket said smartly and he and Julian stopped messing about and got back to their stock take. Delilah returned her mind to a row of mini rockets she loaded in to her shoulders. There were empty boxes of bullets as well as a can of WD-40 and Delilah sensed him watching.

"It's not polite to stare Alistair," she scolded.

"So what's all this?" Alistair asked, holding up an empty box. "What are you doing – reloading? Don't you think it would be better if you didn't load uo on stuff that might harm others?"

"We're not fighting their battles," Delilah said coldly.

"But I am and you're not a killing machine," Alistair replied dolefully. Delilah's eyes spun on their integrated liquitech cogs and her gaze remained steadfastly committed to her rearmament. Detached, she spoke up.

"There's much you don't know about me or what we're up against," Delilah answered as she connected her arm back in to the shoulder socket. Allowing her right arm to convert to the Gatling gun with an array of clicks, she squirted WD-40 in to the chambers before easing fatter shells in to the slots. With a petite groan, she leaned over and hoisted a length of alloy bullets and fed them into her internal backup cartridges. Alistair's eyes boggled at the sight of it.

"All of us need to be prepared and you should mind your own business. It might keep you alive."

"Slap down!" Rocket laughed and he took hold of Alistair's arm and diverted his attention. "Check this out," Rocket said brazenly, switching on a pulse torch and bedazzling Alistair. Immediately, Alistair spun wonkily as nausea bubbled through him. Clutching his stomach, he crumbled to the left, sliding down the wall, trying desperately not to projectile vomit. Bemused, Delilah snatched the torch off Rocket and looked ready to thump him.

"Must you be a prat?" Delilah queried as Rocket snickered immaturely as Delilah tended to the stricken boy.

"Sorry darling, that's a fine lesson on what a Pulse torch will do to you," Julian apologised, shooting Rocket a muddy look.

"Yeah, torches exactly like the ones the goons use on their Airships to keep the undesirables in check," Rocket quipped as Delilah eased a giddy Alistair back to his feet.

"You're lucky he didn't leave it on. Once trapped in the light, you have twenty-four seconds before you collapse in to unconsciousness. Give your eyes and brain a few seconds, and you'll get your bearings back."

Julian gripped his shoulder tightly as Alistair tottered. Feeling his senses slowly return, Alistair watched as Julian prised apart a small compact. He dabbed out the contents: two small slivers, one blue the other red, rested on the tip of each of his index fingers.

"Lean your head back, keep your eyelids apart and try these on for size."

Trying not to wriggle his eyelids, Julian softly placed the contacts lenses over Alistair's eyeballs and eased the boy's head forward. Alistair blinked and everything he gazed upon felt spaced out.

"Now, look at the torch again," Julian said. Alistair gingerly gazed in to the nauseating beam but this time, there was no knee buckling queasiness. Julian switched the torch on, off, on, off and on to prove his point.

"Trippin', eh?" Rocket beamed. "Hamley has finally perfected these 3D lenses for the plebs to combat the pulse torches. We get ours grafted as standard issue," Rocket added, pointing to a twinkle of high-end tech glittering across his eyeball.

It took a moment but Alistair quickly became accustomed to the off-kilter feel and Julian explained further.

"We want to retain the element of surprise for Christmas but eventually when the word gets out, the Futurist pulse torches will be useless. Then everyone can get naughty-naughty, verrrrynaughty."

Julian made Alistair lean his head back and removed the 3D lenses.

"I think that's enough for one evening," Delilah said, ushering Alistair along. "These things are not toys, Alistair, they are weapons. Nothing good comes from weapons."

"I wouldn't..."

"Of course you won't," Delilah snapped, cutting him off. "Nevertheless, you have a habit of finding trouble and trouble has a habit of finding you. Julian and Rocket don't need you detonating half of New London. Now, you're going to go to bed and you're going to get a good night's sleep."

Julian and Rocket snickered.

"Delilah!" he moaned, but she was having none of it as she frog-marched him back to his bedroom.