drawing the attention of the drones who have now flooded the platform and formed into rows. He shouts towards them:
COME ON ASSHOLES! DINNER IS THIS WAY!
They don’t question his intention, the flare is fascination enough to override any sense they have, and without a seconds pause they turn and sprint towards him screeching and grunting wildly. He turns and runs, his eyes on the sleepers, his ears on the pack behind. The mission to get the weapons looked pretty much scratched at this stage but the stadium ahead was still the destination. If the people there had weapons, they’d be using them soon.
Suddenly he trips and falls. His ankle snared in something and he reaches back towards it to free himself.