Felix's body jerked as the knife flew free, sailing towards Tucker's grasp. The merc's head cocked, in the meanwhile. "Huh. Well that's new."

About all the consideration given to this newfound power of his before he darted forward, sliding low to sweep Tucker's legs out from under him. The real Felix might have taken the time to expound on what he felt about this new scenario, but this version? Only a nightmare. Locus's memory of him, reflecting everything he'd been in life.

Vicious. Petty. Relentless. And he didn't need the knife to be a danger.


Meanwhile, York's unexpected take on dealing with the monster was enough to give him pause. In there, somewhere, Locus was there, staring outwards from the grasp of this unending agony and hopelessness. To have York stop, dead in the middle of all of this, and reach out to him?

It didn't fit with the memory. It didn't fit...was this not how it had been? Was this real? You don't have to listen to him anymore.

The monster takes a ragged inhale, before snarling low and rasping, that jaw opening wide and exposing jagged teeth. If York moved like prey, he could justify moving on with this but if he didn't...

If he didn't, then what was really going on here? York was here to save him. From what?