Strut right out and announce herself with a dramatic entrance

The Velvet Vixen emerges from the shadows like she’s about to deliver a Grammy-winning performance. Her cape billows (dramatically and also annoyingly), her boots clack against the concrete with theatrical purpose, and her voice rings out over the night air:

“That’s far enough, you criminal dames! Step away from the warehouse before you get a full serving of justice, served hot and fabulous!”

The two women standing guard blink at her. Then they both burst into laughter.

The blonde, chewing gum and twirling her tommy gun, turns to her partner.

“You seeing this, Delilah? We got ourselves a trick-or-treater in April.”

Delilah, the brunette, leans on her gun like a walking cane.

“Oh, I see her. Question is—do we shoot her, or do we ask for an autograph?”

Velvet Vixen plants her fists on her hips and thrusts her chest forward, attempting to regain control of the moment.

“Laugh all you want now, ladies—but in five minutes you’ll be the ones tied up and begging for mercy!”

The blonde whistles.

“Oooh, kinky. Should we be scared, D?”

Delilah shrugs with a grin.

“Only one way to find out.”

In a surprise move, both women toss their tommy guns to the ground with a clatter and begin rolling up the sleeves of their pinstripe jackets.

“C’mon, sugar,” Delilah purrs. “Show us what you’ve got.”

“I hope you’re better with your fists than you are with one-liners,” the blonde adds, popping her gum.

The two saunter forward slowly, cracking their knuckles, circling Kendrick like sharks in heels.

Kendrick stiffens, her mask damp with nervous sweat. Her heart is racing. This is exactly what she wanted—and now she has no idea what she’s doing.

“Okay,” she mutters to herself, “first fight. I can totally do this. How hard can it be? I’ve seen dozens of movies.”

She lifts her fists in what might generously be called a “stance.”