They began to dance in perfect unison as their leader stood almost still, ranting out a manifesto that was in dire need of an editor. Their long hair flew. They all had multiple hair wraps, in identical black, deep red, and white, descending from their split-ended manes like whips or tentacles and lashing each other as they tossed their heads, for all the world like cheerleaders.
40 year old, male, motorcycle-riding cheerleaders.
Cheerleaders that could kill.