The AFR raid the Antitois
and, now, turning, heart loud in his head, can now see, in the carefully placed display mirrors’ angles, spikes of light off rotary metal rotating at a height about waist-level to a huge standing man w/ broom clutched to barrel chest, there are great quiet numbers of persons in wheelchairs moving in the room with him, in the shoproom, moving calmly into position behind waist-high glass counters full of wacky notions.
Context
Lucien Antitoi's last minutes: the AFR announce themselves as "spikes of light off rotary metal rotating" in the shop mirrors — the wheel, the assassins' own annulus, glimpsed in reflection before the violence.