"You have got to be joking," I groaned. "Do you know how cliché that is? A batgirl? I mean-"
"SHUT UP!" the not-so-blonde thing roared angrily. I looked at her, eyebrows raised. What was she? Bat wings, fangs, claws, black hair, murder in her eyes…obviously another whacko Eraser-thing. She suddenly dove at me and delivered a punch to my side. I slammed into a tree and heard a crack. It felt like my arm had been broken at impact, and I was probably right. The tinted glasses fell off and there was a tinkling noise. I looked down blankly to see pieces of crushed wire, glass, and more glass. Crap.
There was another lame war cry as the she-thing leapt at me, clearly ready to slice me like an onion. I closed my eyes and ducked to the side, falling on what felt like a bunch of rocks. Ouch. Sharp splinters flew into the right side of my face, making new scratches and cuts. There was a screeching wail, and I squinted to see that her hand was bleeding bad. The idiot had punched the tree and gotten splinters in her fist. It looked like she was attached to a demented hedgehog.
A rough hand pulled me up, forcibly turning me the other way. I could hear the ex-blonde cackling evilly and rasping, "Now that we've got Number 13, we can leave." She came closer, and I could actually feel her breath on my face as she hissed, "You're lucky they want you in one piece."
Lucky? Yeah, right. More like doomed, I thought to myself. Hey, I'm not exactly the most optimistic person ever. What's so great about being an albino werecat freak? I could hear yells, probably from the bird kids, and a scream. Rough Eraser hands pushed me into what felt like a helicopter, judging from the leathery seats and smooth metal floor. They didn't bother tying me up or anything, knowing I was helpless.
"Aren't you happy?" I heard one of the Erasers cackle. "We're going back home."