Epic dream last night:
Demonic creatures of mercurial morphology fond of cutting themselves with glass had infiltrated The City. My objective was to track them down and eliminate them, armed only with some type of derringer (which might not even have been loaded), explosive sunglasses (evidently multi-use), and stilletto (literally, stilletto) heels. My only allies were a grappling gun and some big Amazon of a Dredd-style traffic Judge who took a while to realize that The Law had bigger problems than my weaving a stolen hoverbike between lanes.
Think Ada Wong vs. The Ghosts of Mars in Silent Hill, peppered with bits of Judge Dredd and Les Miserables.
The weird part is that these sado-masochistic demons communicated in what I took to be Russian. But I suppose that’s what comes of reading Tom Clancy before bed.