Felix, meanwhile, had nothing but time. He could wait him out, until Locus eventually succumbed to his wounds, and damn if Washington and Carolina weren't here. 'We don't need to beat you, we just need to waste your time', indeed.

But something suddenly clicks, deeper than instinct, and as he bounds back from that quick swipe of the Sim Soldier's foot, his head cranked back towards the direction Locus had gone. Oh no he fucking doesn't...

With a snarl, he turned, bending low to swipe for his fallen blade before retreating after his partner, leaving Tucker behind in the blood and gore.


Because something curious was happening where Locus and York were. Something about this was so starkly, vastly different from what his mind expected this to go, it seemed to jar him off track for a moment. It was as if the fog cleared, long enough for him to wonder what was happening here.

He couldn't speak, but the noise that came out of his throat was a question, horrifying as it might have been. A second later and he sank back away from York, still monstrous in shape but clearly no longer intending to rip him apart. One massive, bleeding hand lifted to press against his skull, the chains woven through his limbs clinking as he did so, and a disoriented rumble echoed from his chest.