Using [Vampiric Speed], Rip darted around Denthead, as he had started calling this last hostile robot, and put some distance between them. While running, he reloaded the Webleys.

The bot raced after him, moving surprisingly fast for such a large, bulky machine. An image of all those spare parts the Septic Rats prepared for enhancement flashed through Rip’s mind.

This thing is enhanced inside and out, he thought. No wonder they’re so hard to kill.

Fortunately, [Vampiric Speed] gave him an edge, and he felt a strong sense of gratitude once again toward the Verez sisters for their boons.

Speaking of which . . . where are they?

Ahead he spied the masses of disabled bots, all standing in neat rows, limp-armed and heads bowed. He dodged between them, with Denthead closing the gap now that he ran at a normal pace.

Rip found he could only use [Vampiric Speed] for short bursts. He decided the girls could cross this entire cavernous room while using it due to higher skills.

Again, he found himself wondering just how old they really were. If they were like the legends of vampires on his world, they could be ancient. Even 100 years old would be weird, he thought.

The clanking sound of fast-moving steps behind him jarred Rip out of his speculations. Suddenly, he found himself running out of broken-down robots. He hurried out into an open space on the floor.

The last of the lines loomed ahead, but they looked stalled. In the distance he could see literally tons of destroyed robots littering the lower steps of the stairs.

“It’s a robot traffic jam!”

He found the sisters lying down on the floor, and headed toward them. A burst of [Vampiric Speed] opened up distance between him and Denthead again.

He skidded to a stop, a look of concern on his face.

“Are y’all alright?”

Liza lifted her head off the floor and glanced at him.

“We overdid it, Ripley. The others all have silver saucers on their fronts.”

Hilda came to her elbows and looked back at Denthead, racing straight toward them.

“That one has no silver, sister.”

“I am so tired!” Liza snapped.

“We need to get this one. It bothers our Ripley.”

The robot ran forward, arms outstretched with eyes focused on Rip, closing to within 30 feet or so.

“You get him. I am tired.”

Hilda glared at her but she poofed into a black mist and streaked toward Denthead. A black cloud formed around his head, and he slowed to a walk, unable to see. Then he stopped.

The cloud seemed to soak inside him, as Hilda found crevices in his metal body and exploited them.

Rip heard a series of small pops and Denthead stopped moving altogether. Smoke from within him seeped out, coming up and out of his eyes and mouth.

The black mist left the robot and drifted quickly back to Rip and Liza, where Hilda reappeared with a poof.

She sat down, almost falling, and Rip noticed how drained she seemed. At that moment she no longer appeared to be a young girl, but an old and weary woman.

“Don’t look at me like this, Ripley. Give me a moment.”

Rip dutifully turned and glanced back toward the destroyed control booth.

He noticed a door in the wall about 50 feet from the booth. It swung open and a sewer trooper ran out, followed by many more. They wore the usual trench coats and gasmasks.

“Uh, girls . . . we’ve got company. My [Mechanical Discernment] says they’re not enhanced. At least, their gasmasks aren’t. Which I’m pretty sure means they’re not.”

The sisters turned and gazed in the direction he pointed. Twenty troopers raced across the floor, weaving in and out of the neat lines of disabled robots, heading straight for them.

“Oh, thank God!” Hilda said. “I’m so hungry.”

Both girls shot away, blurring across the open floor then through the rows of broken bots. They attacked the men like frenzied wolverines. Rip watched as they ripped out throats without stopping. Between the two of them, the troopers were eliminated in a matter of seconds.

Just as fast, the girls fell on the bodies, their faces sinking down into the remaining flesh of the necks and slurping down blood in noisy gulps.

At that, Rip rubbed his face and turned away. Even from a distance, it was not a pleasant sight.

“Nope. Not gonna become a vampire.”

Hilda appeared next to him suddenly. He glanced up, realizing she must have used [Vampiric Speed], but it almost seemed like teleporting.

He also realized she must have heard his offhand remark from that distance, too.

“It’s not so bad,” she said. “I’m sure you’ve made a mess while eating before.”

She had not bothered to clean up, and the lower half of her face glistened red with blood.

She smiled, fangs showing, and blurred back to the feast.

He sighed and sat down on the floor, feeling the fresh bruises left by his most recent encounters. He debated whether or not to use a healing potion.

Lost in thought, staring up at the ceiling, it suddenly occurred to him that he had not heard anymore dynamite exploding recently.

Rip looked toward the stairs and the huge piles of metal jumbled up there.

He heard metallic crunching and squinted, trying to get a better view of the base of the stairs. A line of robots steadily pushed through the rubble, shoving aside fallen comrades. He could barely make out Chance and Twig dancing around. They seemed powerless to stop the bots from breaking through.

“Girls? You about ready to get back to work?”

Liza looked up from her last body, chin dripping blood.

“We cannot get close to the rest, Ripley. The silver!”

He nodded and reached into his wallet.

“Yeah, I think I’ve got something that will help with that.”

He pulled out a screwdriver and held it up for both to see.