One thing Locke didn't like so much about the Wing Edge was that he easily grew dependent to it, neglecting the fact that if he ever was displaced from where he threw it, it wasn't going to go looking for him.
And that was exactly what happened when he landed in a heap in the stage and his boomerang landed expectantly on the direction from where he leaped. He sat up, shook his head. The roar of flame awakened his spirit and he looked up with a wide smile when he saw the Malboro catching fire and flailing as it slithered backwards.
"That's it!" he yelled to no one in particular as he stood up to his feet and grabbed a nearby prop by his left hand. He sent the suitcase flying ungracefully towards the smoking monster and it landed with a hollow whack as the empty thing was cracked open. But by then, Locke was already upon it, landing another cut right on its side when it turned to meet him.
Another hop back when it attempted to smack him and he spun and slammed his sword at the back. No one said he was fantastic with the sword, though, but that was not his concern. The Wing Edge sat quietly a few rows ahead of him and he hopped chairs to get closer to it, the Malboro dragging itself around and giving chase.
"Don't stop now!" Locke advised needlessly, glancing over his shoulder.