The sound of metal clinking together fills your ears, something subtly odd about the sound; you look 
down at yourself trying to work out what is causing it. As it has for many nights now it is not the 
familiar dull gleam of your armour that greets you, but jewellery and brightly coloured fabric. The 
gentler and higher-pitched chime of the clipped-on earrings and cheap stage jewellery around neck 
and wrists still sounds odd to your ears. There were times when you wondered, secretly, if your 
superiors were taking the Michael, but they were right; uncomfortable though the assignment may be, 
you're the best man they have for it.

You check over your disguise quickly; the long skirts with the stripy leggings underneath, the overblown 
blouse barely restraining the fake breasts, the enormous wig. The makeup you already know is perfect, 
having spent a good half hour applying it.

Someone slaps you on the bottom familiarly; you turn, forcing yourself not to glare, to see one of your 
partners in crime grinning. "All set? Tonight's the big one." He laughs, not knowing that he's your 
quarry. "Get this right and we'll be set for life, we'll be loaded!" You fake a smile and hope for a 
distraction.

"Places!" As the cry goes up the bustle around you becomes focussed, everyone rushing to be ready. 
Through the open doorway you can hear the noise of the crowd fade and die as the orchestra starts to 
play. "Come on then, Dame Twanky, time to go earn our adoration." The principle boy makes his way to 
the stage; you follow him, the excitement of it all building once again, and you find yourself regretting 
that this will be the last night you tread the boards. You shake your head in amusement, the clink and 
chime of the jewellery filling your ears as you step through the doorway and once more you feel the 
weight of your armour as the darkness of backstage gives way to the great outdoors and the patrol.