Three chaps in high-vis jackets chucked Eve under the guillotine and strapped her arms down. The chap in orange rummaged elbow-deep through a crate of armbands. The chap in green scrubbed at the marks left on the blade by the previous sinner. The third chap cemented his authority by tightening his hardhat, clearing his throat and blunting a pencil into a clipboard whenever the other chaps dawdled.

Before them gaped an abyss wider than a night sky and blacker than a politician's heart. A chute hung over it from the business end of the guillotine. Hardhat booted a pebble over the edge, strained his ears against the silence of it not hitting any sort of bottom, then grunted and ticked a box off his checklist.

“Did you order in those bloody Nines or not?” said Orange-vis, plunging two arms and a leg into the pile of armbands.

“Keep your hair on.” Hardhat flipped through the clipboard. “They were out of stock. Jus’ turn a Six upside down.”

“A Six? They're half the bloody weight!” Armbands erupted from the box as Orange threw his hands skyward.

“Won't make no difference to her, will it?” Hardhat pointed at Eve, who lay under the guillotine over the abyss.

Green-vis gawped at her arse as he polished his blade. “You're far too sweet to be headed to the ninth, love.”

Eve struck; her leg leapt like a rattlesnake; knocked Green's hand against the guillotine; sliced off his fingertips. He fell back, inches from the drop, clutching his bleeding hand.

“Ought to be more careful around Nines,” said Hardhat, pressing an accident at work form between the newly-formed stumps.

Green replied by screaming.

“Cheer up, Reg. Heard of one bloke who lost his balls.” Orange ran over with a pair of armbands that sported the number 6 in permanent marker. “Hat, can you get her legs?”

Hardhat flopped onto them. Eve thrashed against him.

“Cor, I wish my missus was this lively,” he said as he clawed into the dirt.

“She’s plenty lively, your missus. Just ain't lively with you,” said Orange, face straining the same colour as his jacket.

Green regained linguistic capability and put it to immediate use by shouting “My hand, my hand, my hand!”

“Lucky you still got one,” said Orange. “Heard of one bloke who lost his arsecrack.”

“You do talk utter shite,” said Hardhat, bobbing up and down as Eve thrashed her legs. “Get a move on, lad, I feel like I'm on Dodgy Gary's wave machine.”

“Ain't easy getting a Six band on a Nine, boss. Gonna have to shunt it.”

“Then bloody well shunt it!”

There was a crack as Orange broke Eve's arm. She let out a faint sigh, the kind less suitable for reacting to intense pain and more suitable for remembering you forgot to buy milk. The first armband was on.

Green went pale and emptied the contents of his stomach—a bacon sarnie—into the abyss.

“Ain't right, shunting a sweet petite like this,” said Orange, clambering over Eve. He grabbed her arm.

“That sweet petite got my fingers,” said Green. “If I still had em, why, I'd go over there and give her a right shunting myself.”

Eve's broken arm contorted around on itself, shaking like a rabid dog. The armband began to inflate while she kicked at Hardhat.

“Lads...” said Hardhat.

“I'd shunt her toenails through her mouth, I would,” said Green. “I'd shove her knuckles through her kidneys.”

“Ooh, someone's getting lairy,” said Orange.

The armband inflated so much that its seams quivered like ants along the rubbery surface.

“Lads...” said Hardhat.

“Why I'd, I'd, snap off all her cuticles,” said Green.

“Blimey, her cuticles? You'd go that far, would you?” asked Orange.

“Lads!” shouted Hardhat.

“KABOOM,” said Eve.

The armband exploded. The force threw Hardhat back; he hit his head on the ground. Far off, his friends screamed as they plummeted further and further into the abyss. He jumped to his feet; gauged the distance to the van… ten paces if he sprinted. Why had they parked so far away?

Eve stretched her limbs skywards. A spiral-bound notebook appeared in her hands. She snapped it open and licked her lips.

“Won’t you play with me, darling?” she purred.

“No time for games when you work double shifts. Speaking of which, I must be off, pipe’s burst up in Old Town Square, kids’ll be bloody swimming in it before long…” Hardhat backed away, hiding behind his clipboard.

Eve flipped through her notebook in the same way a person unfamiliar with the alphabet might use a dictionary. Just as Hardhat shoved his keys into the van door, she tore out a page.