Shambling down the frozen escalator from the floor above in complete silence were about fifteen grown-ups. They were all wearing new clothes, festooned with hats and jewelry and belts and scarves, and carrying expensive new luggage. But it was a mess, like some awful costume parade. They looked like children who had raided their parents’ wardrobes. The clothes didn’t match, or were the wrong size, or were simply being worn in the wrong way. One man was wearing two jackets but no pants, another wore a dress, some of the women had things on backward, and they had smeared their faces with makeup. One wore her underwear on the outside, like some freakish superhero, and had what looked like a lampshade on her head. An impossibly skinny old woman wore a flashy Nike tracksuit, a fur coat, a long blond wig, and several strings of pearls. She carried a camera on a strap over one shoulder and had only one shoe. High heeled. Making her limp.

It was an eerie sight as they came down in a huddle, like a bunch of weird tourists.

“Kill them,” said Achilleus, and he raised his spear.

“No, wait,” said Maxie. “I don’t think they’re going to attack.”

“Who cares?” said Achilleus. “They’re grown-ups. Kill them.”

“Look at them. They’re harmless.”

“We’ll see about that.” Achilleus walked over to the group, which had stopped at the bottom of the escalator. They cowered away from him. One father, who had several ties knotted around his shirtless neck, raised his hand defensively. Achilleus struck his spear into his chest and he fell back. The other grown-ups shrank farther away. Achilleus advanced on them, herding them across the floor. They stuck together like frightened ducklings. Utterly bewildered. Achilleus started to laugh.

“Look at the silly sods,” he said. “They’re pathetic.” He grabbed the old woman and shook her until her wig came off.

“What do you look like? Eh?” he said, throwing her into the others. “The lot of you. You’re freaks. Morons.” He snatched a hat off one of the fathers and stuffed it on top of his own head.

“Come on, you sheep,” said Achilleus, steering the little group between a row of columns. “Show us your stuff.”

The other kids were starting to laugh now, and four of the older ones joined Achilleus, tormenting the grown-ups, chasing them around, tripping them up, until they were all crowded into a corner, shivering and gibbering.

The big kids prodded them with their weapons and pushed a couple over. Then Achilleus and Big Mick grabbed one of the fathers and dragged him across the floor.

Achilleus sniggered. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s see if you like heights.”

Laughing, they took him to the balcony, and before Maxie could stop them, they’d taken hold of him by the ankles and hoisted him over the side. He dangled there, his arms clawing at the air.