For a time, it appeared Tucker was on his own, wherever he was charging off to. Blood lapped at his ankles as he went, the echo of thudding heartbeats bouncing off one another in the enclosed space.

It would take time for him to realize that there was a shadow, lingering over him where there shouldn't be. And then suddenly, a shadowed weighty mass, as the two materialized at his back.

Peek-a-boo, motherfucker.

And Felix had lunged forward off of Locus's back, a glint of sharp metal gleaming in the light as he did so. He looked battered, broken, visor helmet smashed open, all the signs of someone who'd taken a very long fall.

Someone holding a grudge, and a very sharp knife.