Sloan peered through the opening. Only limitless corridors of cabinets sprawled onward. What the hell was this funhouse? Onto the tile around her plopped upside-down imps, squirming themselves upright like scarabs. First only a few, but soon they were piling atop one another, covering the ground in a writhing mass.

An imp clawed at her shin and she smashed it with a bootsole before swinging her gun and unleashing hellfire onto the crowd. The imps squealed as her light disintegrated them, but more and more came tumbling down. One sank needlepoint teeth into her ankle. She crushed it with her other leg but more crawled for her, cretinous dwarfs with stumpy proportions and misshapen limbs.

(Chapter 5)