Furiosa is distracted on two fronts at once; she fires at the creatures coming at her directly and is very gratified to see a couple of them die or explode or...whatever that was. On the other hand, she feels the need to keep half an eye on the sniper. If she and Azwel are still pinned down, they're proper fucked.

A quick glance at the roof, and the visibility is still terrible, but she's in time to hear the gunshots and catch a brief coppery flash of Natasha's hair. If that situation isn't under control, it's about to be, she thinks.

Azwel's hail of blades is impressive as fuck. Everything is so fast and so bright she can't be sure whether it's hurt the demonic creature or not, but she dares to hope. She makes no noise as the shield gets ripped away--for the moment it's irrelevant--but clings to the rifle, raising her metal arm to meet that flying backhand. Maybe it'll hurt them both.

She rolls and tumbles in the snow, but as many times as she's fallen from a moving rig and lived to tell about it, she'd be ashamed if that made her miss a beat. She's up on her knees a moment later. The Taurus will be better at close range; she pulls it from her hip holster and aims at the back of the demon's legs. Hard to tell if a projectile will get through the armor, but if they can bring it down, between her and Azwel, she's pretty sure they can exploit whatever weak points it has before it gets back up.