Lillian Deleterious. By profession, she is a nurse. She takes blood pressure readings, dispenses medication, and calmly reminds people to drink more water. Yet several hospital security reports strongly suggest that she is also capable of neutralising minor criminal activity during her commute.

There have been incidents.

On one occasion, a would-be thief produced a handgun during a street robbery. Witnesses report that Lillian responded by kicking the gun clean out of his hand, retrieving it, and then calmly asking if anyone needed medical assistance.

Another time she allegedly prevented a robbery entirely by launching what observers described as a “pre-emptive flying kick of discouragement.”

The police were grateful.

The robber reconsidered his life choices.

Lillian later apologised for the inconvenience and offered everyone chamomile tea.

The police were grateful. Sir Timothy nicknamed her "Our Pocket Rocket". Even Marcel Tower, former Scotland Yard Officer, mentioned her in his next speech at the annual police festival, citing the episode as a fascinating example of how one might respond in such situations — or, strictly speaking, how one probably ought not to.

Despite her modest size, Lillian is one of the fastest players on the cricket team. When running between the wickets she moves with the urgency of a nurse answering an emergency call—swift, decisive, and leaving several surprised fielders wondering what just happened.

As a batter, she is fearless.

Lillian believes in attacking the ball early, often with the quiet determination of someone who has already dealt with more dangerous objects than a cricket ball before breakfast. Bowlers quickly learn that a tiny figure advancing confidently down the pitch is rarely good news.

Her teammates describe her batting style as “bold, direct, and mildly alarming.”

Bowling, however, is another matter.

Lillian dislikes bowling intensely.

When forced to do so, she delivers the ball underarm, with the resigned expression of a person being asked to assemble flat-pack furniture during a medical emergency.

Her reasoning is simple:

“If the batter wants the ball, I will give it to them politely.”

No one has ever argued with this philosophy.

Off the field, Lillian’s great passion is herbal infusions. Chamomile, peppermint, nettle, ginger, hibiscus—she knows them all and recommends them enthusiastically.

Teammates who have just witnessed her perform athletic feats resembling low-budget kung-fu cinema are often handed a mug of calming herbal tea moments later.

It is, by all accounts, a confusing but comforting experience.

Among the team, Lillian Deleterious is held in a curious mixture of affection and cautious respect. She is cheerful, generous with tea, lightning-fast between wickets, and very likely capable of disarming most minor criminals before the umpire has finished adjusting his hat.

Opponents underestimate her at their peril.

After all, the small nurse politely sipping herbal infusion in the pavilion may also be the fastest runner on the field and the only person present who can defeat a robber before tea.

And she will almost certainly offer him peppermint afterwards.