And he goes rigid, just like that. Felix curses and kicks at the gear, tugs at the chains, but Locus isn't moving. His head sags forward with a deep, pained rumble, and for a moment it's almost as though he can rest.

But it hurts. It tugs and pulls at his tendons, his bones. He needs to move, needs to bring Sombra into the fold, and not even this is allowed to stop him. If his body rebels, it must be broken and reformed.

Oh to Hell with this...

And a second later there's three knives, thrown in quick succession over Locus's shoulder, aimed directly at Sombra.