The smaller, human-sized creatures are clearly trying to work their way around cover to flank the pair on the ground. From her vantage point up high, Natasha will be able to spot a couple darting off down a side-street, planning to circle round and come at her comrades from behind. The others pop in and out of cover with their pistols – save for the one whose masked head erupts with a burst of pale, luminous gas as Furiosa’s rifle finds its mark, and a moment later she sends its neighbor to the ground with a ragged cry.

The big one is another problem.

The closer it gets, the easier it is to get the demon’s measure. Even without the winged helm it must be close to eight feet tall, a bandolier of those spiny pistols slung across its chest. Up close, the eye slits beneath its angled brow are four in number, all glowing the same eerie blue. It advances on them, closing the distance swiftly even through the snow. It is not, however, prepared for Azwel's multi-pronged attack. The light of his blades flash from all directions, aside and above, and the creature's shield flares blue on all sides beneath the hammering assault... and perhaps even then it would hold, but for that last strike to the chest. There's a burst of light as the shield fails, scattering sparks into the wind as the demon snarls in outrage-

Then another flash, a blur of blue-white light, and suddenly it's right on top of them, one lower hand grabbing at Furiosa's shield to wrench it away, the other swiping to try and backhand her into the snow. The words it roars are unintelligible- but the contemptuous rage rings through. Its blades are raised against Azwel, either to slash at him if he gets in range or to parry another assault, and all its attention is on the one responsible for taking it off-guard. Furiosa seems to be practically disregarded...