"Relax, the party's started," Julian called up the gangplank as he casually reapplied black lipstick, peering over the edge at the Pleasuredome and Emancipation Square deep below. Delilah keyed escape co-ordinates into Tunny, adjusted her jerkin, and then left the Saskatoon in ready mode. She rejoined Julian back out on the pier as Julian puckered his lips. Offering the black lipstick to Delilah, she declined. The fabricant checked the locater for positions and did a double take.

"Is this correct?" she asked, passing him the locater.

"What the Dickens – is this thing working?"

"Correct me if I'm wrong but are they both heading towards the 401st floor of Bigger Ben?" Delilah asked, pointing to the ascending bleeps.

"Oh dearie me," Julian groaned.

"I told them to stay out of trouble!" Delilah growled. Trying to reach Rocket. Bigger Ben's emergency evacuation protocols enacted and Delilah looked up sharply, sensing complications.

"There's a fresh squad of Guards in the terminal," Delilah said coolly as she converted her arm in to the Gatling gun. "I will peacefully incapacitate them. Then we fetch the children."

"Peacefully incapacitate? So you did take Alistair's advice. How humane," Julian congratulated. "And here I was thinking you were a cold-hearted, killing machine." Delilah turned to face him with a vicious look in her eyes.

"I am a cold-hearted killing machine."

"Well, you can't go traipsing off on a rescue mission," Julian conceded. "You have to pilot the ship."

"This is not a negotiation," Delilah established.

"No..." Julian returned serve. "No it isn't."

Replacing the lipstick tube in his pocket, Julian spun his bow-staff in his hands, the silver blade cutting through the night.

"Care to dance?" Pacing back down the icy pier, Delilah kicked in the doors, flinging them off their heavy hinges. Julian stamped the base of the staff into the ground, and purred a warning.

"This is not my idea of a good time."

Delilah, with less pomp and ceremony but with as much bravado, proceeded to open fire. The surprise of seeing a heavily armed Pleasure Bot gunning in their direction put the confusion of the military breakdown in to perspective. Delilah's hand whirred and Julian realised she hadn't been jesting about incapacitating them all.

"I guess the Three Laws don't apply to you," Julian remarked as Delilah vanquished the lot of them.

"I have primary programming and secondary programming. When someone threatens my boy, I react in the most hostile way possible."

Delilah singled out the squad leader; leaning over, she hoisted him up off the ground with one hand. Even with the face-shield down, Julian could hear the fear in the Guard's digitised voice.

"Mercy," he begged.

"It's the least I can do," agreed Delilah, frizzle frying their radio frequency. "Take your men and leave and never return or I will not be so forgiving." Balancing him against the wall, the squad leader ordered the other dusted Guards to retreat, and they did, meekly crawling towards the exit.

"I should say something pithy and spiteful," Julian said, heading for the lifts whilst Delilah scanned the terminal for more Guards.

"Not every occasion requires an aside," Delilah tutted.

"Is that so? Why don't you be a dear and mop up here and when you're done, go tend to the ship," Julian directed, tossing her his staff, leaving Delilah looking betwixt and between. Julian saved her any second thoughts as he jumped in the lift and winked.

"Darling, if I'm not back in time..."

"If you're not back in time," Delilah said passively. "We shan't be here."

**********************

Hitherto, Futurist armour was impervious to malfunction but now it began to flash System Failure in the Guards' visors as Elvis' worm corrupted their networks. The Goodnight Kiss had a magnificent domino effect: the pulse torch shielding program in their helmets failed then their weapons, rendering them vulnerable. Heavily armed Guards stationed around Emancipation Square and the Pleasuredome, felt their stomachs churn and keeled over in debilitating nausea.

A barely functioning goon lined up Rocket and went to squeeze the trigger; his helmet cracked like an egg as Snowblind shot with precision. With astounding accuracy, Snowblind repelled any attempt at a defence. Cutting a swathe through the pandemonium, the Tommies stormed the stage, overcoming the weakened security and encircled their detained colleagues. Unsure, garbled orders by section leaders demanded an immediate crackdown. Paralysed with fear, every soul was now considered a part of this renegade action. As Guards congregated in blackspots away from the pulse torches, the back-up was non-existent, the external comms silent.

"Where is everyone?" an older Guard demanded as he tugged off his crippled armour.

"Zero tolerance," an overkeen squaddie yelled, shooting blithely in to the crowd, before his visor failed and he stumbled in to a heap.

"Whatever," the older Guard sighed. "And can someone get those ruddy torches off?!"

Sunburn and Shadowplay secured the perimeter and began pinging hiding Guards; they didn't have time to grumble, covering their colleagues with shells of masquerade gas that wafted over the crowd.

Flash slid across the stage and tripped one executioner, who in turn, vainly tried to put up a fight but Flash subdued him with a sizzling taser. Dreamer, Casbah and Useless cornered the other two executioners, who drew daggers. Three against two was never a fair fight and the young Loyalist soldiers tasered them into submission, shoving them down the stairs at the back of the stage.

"Rocket!" Snowblind grizzled over the secure line, spotting the Dread Arrows. "Them hot-shot birds are flying back!"

"Right lads, let's pack this up and get sorted ASAP!" Rocket bellowed, corralling the Loyalist rescue squad. "Time is of the essence!"

The Dread Arrows had completed their U-turns and had been ordered to raze the Pleasuredome but as they returned, their guidance systems faltered. Dread Arrow 3 clipped Dread Arrow 4's wing and the pilots jettisoned as their fighters exploded in the sky. Dread Arrow 2 plummeted in to the Thames. The remaining Dread Arrows limped eastwards, stuttering across the city and eventually the pilots ejected as their craft fell from the sky in to the Essex wastes.

Back in the private box, Chancellor Malachy screamed out orders and hurled abuse as he scrambled about, shielding his own eyes.

"It's a coup," a Government Minister screeched as he was being herded with his brethren to an armoured vehicle. A senior officer requested Malachy's orders.

"Shoot the seditionaries!!! I don't care, kill them all if you have too" Malachy implored. "Blow up the 'Dome. To hell with them all."

Back on stage, Archie could see a bedazzling light down the slit of his nose and the blindfold. "Keep your eyes closed," he barked over the cacophony, warning his death row mates. "They've got those bloody torches on," he warned. Thatcher nestled up beside him, rubbing his hands behind his back trying to ease his binds.

"Col Rose? Is that you?" Thatcher asked.

"Nae," Archie replied curtly. "But I suggest you keep your wee head down laddie, as all hell is breaking loose."

Flash crash-tackled Archie and Thatcher as bullets whistled overhead. The old man struggled whilst Flash snipped at the binding around Archie's wrists. Unbound, Archie proceeded to slap Flash about the head.

"You'll nae be taking me back to the clink," Archie protested, lashing out and kicking Flash, who copped a glancing heel right in the lips.

"We're on your side," Rocket said as Archie kicked out again and narrowly missed Rocket's groin. Archie continued to lash out, like a frog in a blender, looking comical with his squinting eyes hidden behind the blindfold. "Listen, we're here to rescue you and our men. Stop kicking us will you!"

"Sod off lad," Archie sneered. "I'll die fighting on my feet this time, you'll nae have me on my knees ever again." Striking Rocket's nose, Rocket lost patience and tasered the old man.

"There's a heart starter for you old man! Now, Ravenmaster, we're here to help you," Rocket said, wiping his bloodied nose.

"What did you call me lad?" Archie wheezed as Flash eased him to his feet.

"We're Loyalist soldiers," Rocket reconciled. "And Flash here is mute."

"Loyalists?" Archie said stunned. "Naw.  I thought I was the last one?"

Archie reached out with tentative fingers, found Rocket's shoulder and gripped it tightly. Flash dabbed his split-lip and felt for loosened teeth.

"Sorry lads," Archie chuckled. "You should have said so earlier. Now...what's the plan?"

"We're trying to keep it simple," Rocket suggested as the other Tommies herded their colleagues and the other confused political prisoners together as a steady stream of pyrotechnics continued to provide them cover.

"Keep your eyes shut tight for a few more moments," Rocket warned. "Then it should be right." Like magic and as Rocket predicted, Snowblind looked down his telescope and shot out the pulse torch.

"Everyone, the simple plan is to scramble to Bigger Ben," Rocket shouted. "And that's an order!"

"Who went and left you in charge?" Thatcher asked as he tugged off his blindfold and looked about the rabble that was responsible for this rescue mission.

"Oh, I'm not in charge," Rocket responded, hustling the men forward. "Flash is...and he says ROLL OUT!"

"You heard the man," Col Rose reinforced, reassuming command. "Cut the chatter and roll out!"

The Loyalists scurried off the gallows' platform, dragging the political prisoners with them, where Roman Innuendo waited, demanding an interview. Instead, Rocket smacked Innuendo in the chops spinning him like a top and stared menacingly down the camera.

"Ich bin ein Englander! Oh...and Merry EXPLETIVE CENSORED BY NBBC Christmas!!!" With a broad grin, Rocket blew a kiss to the millions of Red Carpet Massacre viewers then brushed past the cameraman. Scattered Guards tugged off their helmets and slowly regained their senses, watching, mouths agape, whilst a rag-tag bunch of Loyalists made their escape. Shadowplay and Sunburn fired bulbs of masquerade gas, shrouding the escapees in a cloud of pea-green, soupy mist.

Without the unity of command and thousands of happy-clappers stampeding, Guards began to lash the masses with their rhythm sticks, vainly trying to regain control. As the gases dispersed through the 'Dome, some Guards carrying unauthorised side arms, opened fire in a stunted counter attack. Steadfastly, Snowblind minimised much of the fight back with pinpoint accuracy and issuing instructions for the safest path from the 'Dome across Emancipation Square and on to the forecourt steps of Bigger Ben.

"Well done lads.  See you on the bird," Snowblind radioed in as he rolled over and abandoned his post. Snowblind never saw it coming; his blindside betrayed him and he spun about on to a Guard's dagger.

"Bastard,"he hissed as he bled out and squeezed off a final round, killing the Guard with his dying breath.