Round 'em Up
Fatima crouched near a service conduit opening, skillfully balanced on the ludicrous heels of her stiletto pumps, holding a hunting knife in her fist. Time and time again, Artemis had scolded her for training in her high heels instead of in gym shoes. But Fatima had always argued that she never knew what she would be wearing when danger struck. Besides, the pressure of a single woman's stiletto was about the equivalent of an elephant's weight on a man's chest.

It was one of the few arguments she'd ever won.

Force of habit, combined with an intense hatred for the assigned boots for her uniform, had her wearing the shoes when she first spotted the rodents. But while a stiletto heel had the pressure of an elephant, it didn't quite have the accuracy of a knife.

She didn't look like the sort of girl who'd be comfortable hunting down rat monsters. She was California, through and through. All she needed was a purse with a lapdog in it. But Fatima had never been very good at living up to--or down to--expectations.

In the end, she was a hunter. More so than ever since Zelien. But she didn't like to think about that.

Choose Your Own Adventure
Run into Fatima pretty much anywhere. I'm flexible!