Alistair Raven and the Stormtrooper in Stilettos (Book 1)

Part 3 - Chatter 4

"Xray Specks," Elvis laughed as he brought a sonic scrambler to Alistair's temple. Chelsea shrieked, immediately covering her breast and her privates and Alistair threw his hands to his face, peering through ghostly skeletal fingers. Elvis' scrambler set his vision back to normal and Chelsea recovered her dignity.

"Beginner," she grumbled. Elvis scanned them once more to ensure there had been no corruption and gave Julian a thumbs-up.

"Listen here mateys," Julian lectured. "Eye-Fi  is reserved for combat situations. So you're an exception to the rule. On Boxing Day we lock them off. So don't go blabbing to anyone you've got them installed or I'll just have to remove them. With toothpicks!"

The children promised Julian they would tell not a soul.

"Now, follow me," Julian instructed as Delilah took over the operation of the opticon and licked her lips, sadistically eyeing off the line of Tommies waiting for their 3D upgrades. Julian marched the children down a level, with Capt Baker waiting for them at the armoury, whereby Julian flashed his wrist over a sensor and the thick steel rolled back on its hydraulics.

"Welcome to the Arsenal," Julian announced, as a motion detector turned on the lights. The room lit up, metre by metre, and Capt Baker used both hands to slide down the banisters without his feet touching the steps. Following Julian, they strode through rack upon rack of armour, helmets, leather battle jackets, boots and shielding.

Passing into the next room, there were numerous locked cabinets and Alistair eyed off the abundance of ammunition shells sorted by calibre and designation. Signs pointed to thoroughfares to other rooms filled with rifles, grenades, arsenal, flares and flashes. Chelsea poked her head around the corner and saw a couple of armoured tank suits and gunnery apparatus.

"Holy cow," Chelsea marvelled. "How big is this place?"

"My dear, size doesn't matter," Julian replied succinctly. "Put it this way, if I wanted to end the world...I could."

Passing through to a locker room, the soldiers' personal spaces were spread equidistantly around the walls; a long metal bench ran through the middle. Alistair and Chelsea paused to read the call sign names above the lockers.

Thatcher, Kasbah, Useless, Flash, Lola, Roxanne, Walrus, Crazee, Bunnymen, Dreamer, Shadowplay, Black-Dog, Gray Cell Green, Fish, Napalm, Sunburn, Sheila, Rocket, Doubt, Twisterella, Arcadia, Angie, Snowblind, Unbelievable, Abacab, Pinball, Ladytron, Love Cat, Creep.

At Fish and Pinball's lockers, a candle vigil fashioned a puddle of wax on to a pottery plate. Someone had scribbled the words 'valour' and 'sacrifice' on the locker doors with a thick marker pen; two others, Lola and Angie, had had their names crudely crossed out. Chelsea lingered at her father's locker – Alistair hadn't realised his call-sign had been Walrus - where she discovered a never before seen photograph of her dad and mum cradling her as an infant. Swiping the photograph, she did so well to hide her emotions.

Julian gave Chelsea a brief hug.

"Chin up sweetie," he consoled.

Capt Baker yanked back a set of heavy doors that rolled along tracks, revealing a wardrobe of sorts. Julian unfastened a clasp, parted a flap then removed two identical outfits - a cross between a latex leotard and a kevlar armadillo's hide.

"It's about one hundred sizes too small, don't you think?" Chelsea immediately scoffed.

"It might be tight but you should squeeze your plump bum in to this," Julian smirked. Capt Baker shoved Julian's shoulder playfully.

"Plump?" Chelsea yelped.

"Don't give her a complex," Capt Baker warned and Julian miaowed like a scat cat. Alistair thought Julian was still pulling their leg and Chelsea crossed her arms over her chest in a huff.