diagrams, but never actually practised it. Sludge fired twice, but he must have missed because Mrs Warp did not stop. Mrs Warp then pulled something from her pocket and threw it towards Sludge. Sludge could be seen to half-grab it, push it away, and then scurry around the other side of the fountain in the centre of the lawn. The brief flash from the hand-grenade Mrs Warp had thrown showed that she had adjusted her direction and was now heading towards the fountain. Sludge rolled around the edge of the fountain and fired a volley of shots, none of which hit Mrs Warp.
Sludge launched himself across the fountain, and was clearly surprised, judging by his yell, to be hit hard by Mrs Warp. They fell, thrashing into the water of the fountain. Mrs Warp hit Sludge again and again, while Sludge replied with blows of his own.
‘She’s amazing, how does she do that?’ Hector asked in awe.
‘I think it’s because she’s not fighting Sludge, as Sludge would beat her in a fight,’ said Kate in a tone of horrible realisation. ‘I think the French have repelled Sludge but been betrayed, and that man she is fighting is trying to save us from her; he’s trying to save us from Mrs Warp.’
‘Oops,’ said Hector, ‘let’s go downstairs, but take the gun.’
A short time later they were downstairs. Kate and Hector had quickly dressed. Kate had the gun tucked into her shorts. Hector had unwisely hidden the bomb in his underpants. Bandit had followed them down, hoping to join in the fun. As expected, Mrs Warp was already back in the kitchen.
‘Everything’s all right dears. I think that Mrs Sludge has left us alone for the moment.’
‘You didn’t kill him then?’ asked Hector.
‘No, I tried, but she’s, he’s, she’s, he’s, surprisingly strong,’ said Mrs Warp in her usual, calm, pleasant tone.
‘Now, let’s have you two off to bed,’ she added, smiling reassuringly.
‘Shouldn’t we get help for the people that have been hurt?’ Kate asked.
‘Is Burt hurt, Burt hurt, Burt hurt?’ Mrs Warp asked.
‘Sorry,’ said Kate, confused. ‘I don’t know who Bert is?’
‘There is no Burt here, ear, bear, fear, vinegar,’ said Mrs Warp, shuddering slightly.
Kate noticed a fizz and a crackle, and then Hector tugged at her arm and was pointing to Mrs Warp’s legs.
They had holes in them, and lower holes had water seeping out.
‘She’s a cyborg,’ yelled Hector, just as Mrs Warp lent forwards, gripped the kitchen table and crushed the thick wood to splinters.
Kate saw Hector dash around the kitchen and open a small door.
‘Hector, what are you doing, run!’ yelled Kate.
There was a burst of machine gun fire as Mrs Warp’s chest opened to reveal two barrels with flame flying from each one. Mrs Warp reached for the fridge to steady herself and pulled it to the ground. As the fridge contents rolled to the floor Bandit took his chance, and threw himself head-first into the food.
Kate and Hector ran for the stairs, and scrambled up. At the first landing Kate paused to turn and look. Hector hit her hard in the side with a half-shove, half-rugby tackle.
‘Keep going, keep going,’ he yelled.
It was lucky they did keep going, as moments later a volley of machine-gun fire ripped through the place they had been standing. Mrs Warp was staggering about firing. Most of the bullets were exploding into the staircase, sending wood splitters flying everywhere. Mrs Warp’s right arm began revolving wildly, making it difficult for her to keep her balance, there were sparks coming out of her neck, and a small fire had started near her bottom. Mrs Warp was definitely not human.
Kate stood transfixed as Mrs Warp advanced towards the stairs still firing. As her foot reached the first step she stopped firing and spoke. She still had the same smiling face, but her voice was very different; she sounded like a robot with a cheap speech synthesiser.
‘Would you like a cup of hot chocolate, is that why you came downstairs?’ asked Mrs Warp.
‘Go away,’ yelled Kate, just as she noticed that Hector was missing.
Mrs Warp began to advance unsteadily up the stairs. They were creaking and groaning, which was not surprising given that most of the top step had been shot away by the machine guns in Mrs Warp’s chest.
‘This will do the trick,’ yelled Hector, appearing suddenly with the axe he had taken earlier.
Hector began to chop at the tattered top step. The creaking grew louder, and as Mrs Warp was just four steps from the top, the whole staircase gave way. Mrs Warp fell, briefly. Her hand caught the edge of the landing as she fell, and amazingly she held on to the rest of the staircase with her other hand.
Hector advanced with the axe.
‘Don’t do that,’ said Mrs Warp, in her robot voice, ‘I want to tuck you in.’
‘Rip our limbs off more like,’ said Hector, as he raised the axe once more.
‘No Hector,’ yelled Kate, ‘You can’t cut nanny’s hand off.’
‘She’s not a nanny; she’s a murdering robot on a mission to kill us!’ Hector exclaimed.
Mrs Warp smiled and looked from Kate to Hector. Kate was momentarily lost in thought.
‘Fair point,’ said Kate, ‘Get on with it.’
It took quite a bit of chopping to remove Mrs Warp from the landing, but her hand finally came loose and she and the stairs fell. As if to underline her robot credentials, Mrs Warp never once cried out or complained. When she hit the ground she picked herself up and muttered something in her robot voice about making hot chocolate. She fizzed, crackled and disappeared into the kitchen with her bottom still on fire.
Hector and Kate slumped onto the floor of the landing. Only now did the question of what to do next hit them. They were stuck in a French château with no way down from the first floor, and a mad murdering robot was making them hot chocolate.
‘What about the servant’s stairs?’ asked Hector, ‘Really big houses like this have servant stairs, don’t they.’
‘No, not here, I think they must have removed them, probably security,’ Kate answered. Kate buried her head in her hands.
‘Oh no Hector, what are we going to do?’
‘It’ll be all right,’ said Hector, ‘we seem to have been given a sporting chance.’
‘Oh yes,’ replied Kate sarcastically, ‘a mad robot that intends to give us hot chocolate and then murder us, and just in case we escape another madman is on our trail who can thump holes in prison walls. Very sporting!’
‘Why don’t we shoot her?’ asked Hector.
‘Have you seen the number of holes in her already, and they have made no difference,’ said Kate, despondently.
‘No,’
