This was the first time that Tony had thought all that hard about the detailed biology of the creatures stalking through this wasteland, and largely he was concerned with the very immediate possibility that they were both ugly and venomous. Running with his heart in his throat would not be doing him any favours if that was the case, though a potential rapid death running through his veins and a certain immediate end if he stopped was a pretty easy choice. He only slowed down for a moment, sweeping down to scoop up what looked like a dislodged dart of rebar and throwing a glance over his shoulder as he did to spot the Seymour shaking off the grenade melting through its throat to start galloping toward them again. Tony didn't slow a second time, only twisted his body to javelin the metal he had picked up down the next hallway that they crossed, hoping it crashed through something that made enough noise that it redirected the beast's attention.