Now is a very good time to retreat. The billow of toxic gas has bought them precious seconds, twisting and dissipating out in the draft from the storm outside. The deck shakes and the ramp rattles dully as the great shadow at the end of the room drops to the floor. Its presence seems to spur the others on. A handful at the front brave the edges of the gas to lunge forward through it. The two first and boldest spring toward Harley, and into the light...

And they're human-sized, these creatures. Roughly human shaped, too, though their heads are too narrow, their limbs angled strangely as they bound forward to slash at Harley. Everything else is hidden beneath the ragged cloth and scraps of metal bundling them against the cold- or the light. The glitter of the dagger each carries, however? That's all too clear.