Despite the sickening noises which rose from the lower level, Sam's attention remained on the two blinded drones which lashed the air in front of them in the vain hopes of making contact with their target. The expanding capsaicin-based foam had completely obscured their sensor eyes, which told Sam plenty about how their targeting systems and optics were set up; they clearly had no contingencies for active scan which would penetrate any semi-solid matter. That information seemed like it lost some value when the two halted their desperate flailing and, seemingly in complete sync with one another, pitched forward on their forelegs and began scraping their sensor eyes against the narrow band of carpeting which ran the length of the mezzanine.

Sam backed away, uncertain of any course of action which might carry with it a chance for survival. She could hit them again with a Shrieker, but she'd seen what that had done to even those members of her group [i]without[/i] enhanced senses. The foam had been a desperation move on her part, and had already served its only purpose by allowing her to position herself to deliver the one killing blow she'd managed. That victory now seemed shallow as she found herself flanked.

"Guys!" She shouted, attempting to maintain composure. "Go for the eyes! It's your best chance to crack 'em!"

With that, she backpedaled past Ashley and made for the laundry room. She had absolutely no idea what she was going to so, but she knew it had to be [i]something.[/i] Hopefully, a ritzy place like this valued the concept of a fully-stocked cleaning closet.