For a second, the clicking stops. There's no movement at all, the air strangely thick and still.

When Locus springs, it's when her back is turned. Suddenly, there's a mass of heat moving, a form that towers over her crashing forward, both fists raised and aimed to slam down into the midst of those four duplicates.

Eliminate each of them, if that's what it takes. Feed the Faceless, feed the In-Between.

He has his orders, after all, and that's all that's ever mattered.