Wednesday walked the halls in no particular direction, wandering aimlessly. She shuddered and thought about the past few shows.

Once, there was a juggling act where Burtininkas threw balls back and forth with her. In the middle of the performance, when she caught a ball, it burst into flames.

Another time, they were knife-throwing. One just happened to slice through the hem of her dress, exposing….leave it at exposing.

Yet another time, she had been strapped to a concrete block, dropped in a tank of water filled with oil on the top, then the oil was set on fire. No way up or down. Burt watched her struggle a second, then, as the last bubbles escaped her lips, he had Milton snap his fingers and the tank vanished, water splashing on the stage.

She had tried to retaliate, oh yes, but every time, it was as if Burt knew exactly what she was going to do before she did. She threw a knife at him, he chucked flaming scimitars conjured from nowhere!

Yes, maybe it was time to try something else…