THIRTY

Ilsa lowered her hood and sniffed the air.

“It smells dreadful here. Really unpleasant, dear.”

Rico smiled. “Well, that is the point, isn’t it? Drama. Horror. Death. Really dreadful smells. A theatrical event.”

“It’s all of that,” she said.

Rico glanced over his shoulder. The massive robot stood silent, light from the still glowing fires in the alley dancing on its mirrored hide.

“Come on, Fido. Be a good boy, and Daddy will get you a very nice bone.”

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