Saturday nods, and follows him in. This room has hazards; there's office gear scattered around, and the drones grab bats as soon as they realize the two fighters aren't gonna play.

"Hoi, chummer, fuck off!" She hollers an ancient Red Town war cry as a pack of them thinks to skirt the one-man tank show and plunge directly for her. Loken is busy with his own pile, covered in swarming drone limbs and entirely preoccupied. She plunges into the thick of it and rolls out the other side, drone limbs dropping in her wake. It's not enough. The mob, thinner but still kicking, reforms and lurches towards her. She dodges to one side -

But a drone hand grasps a handful of her too-large jumpsuit. She's arrested mid-motion, pulled off balance, and goes to one knee. Just for a moment, but that moment is all the drones needs. She's fast, not large; agile, not strong. They overwhelm her.

"Fuck," she mutters