A rapid, digital flicker— more static than anything tangible— sees her silhouette snap from the ground up onto rusted catwalks, fingers snapping around the edges of her translocator. The advantage of height buying her maybe a second or two before she can actually start to pull away.

"Gracias por el recordatorio, amiga, but I'd really like to not think about that right now!"

Ahead the path cuts sharply right; she can see it on the display Cortana's brought up, hovering just at the corner of her vision, shaking occasionally alongside the vibrations of Locus' frenzied pace.