Dawn broke pale and cold over Sector Eighteen. Arthur woke before the scheduled time, his mind already churning through the day's objectives. Around him, the squad transitioned from standby with practiced efficiency—weapons checked, supplies distributed, mental preparation complete.
Ash studied her datapad one final time, confirming their approach route. "Four kilometers northeast. The crash site is in an old transit hub—lots of structural damage, but the main concourse should still be accessible."
"Rapture activity?" Arthur asked, accepting a nutrition bar from Nyx.
"Light patrols yesterday, but that could change. The Reaper moves through this sector periodically—if we're unlucky enough to cross paths with a Tyrant-class, our only option is run and pray."
Scarlet's crimson eyes narrowed. "Tyrant-class?"
"Apex predators. Bigger, faster, meaner than Lords. They hunt other Raptures as much as they hunt us." Ash's expression was grim. "Shepard reported seeing one three weeks ago. Called it the Reaper because of how it cut through a squad of soldier-class units like they were nothing."
Lyra checked her rifle's scope calibration. "How do we kill something like that?"
"We don't. We avoid it." Ash slung her weapon across her back. "Ready?"
They moved out into the gray morning, following Ash through the industrial wasteland toward Sector Eighteen's transit district. The ruins grew denser here—collapsed overpasses, derailed train cars, shattered platforms covered in decades of rust and vegetation.
Twice they spotted patrols and melted into cover, waiting with held breath as Ant-types scuttled past. The third encounter forced a detour through a partially flooded underpass, the squad wading through waist-deep water that reeked of chemical decay.
By mid-morning, they reached the transit hub.
The structure had once been grand—vaulted ceilings, wide concourses designed to move thousands of people daily. Now it was a tomb of shattered glass and twisted metal. Ash led them through a service entrance, her movements careful and deliberate.
"Crash site is in the main terminal," she whispered. "Center concourse, near the old departure boards."
They entered the vast space, and Arthur's breath caught. The terminal stretched hundreds of meters, pillars rising like skeletal fingers toward a ceiling mostly open to the sky. And there, amid the wreckage of what looked like a transport vehicle, lay Commander Jane Shepard.
She was sprawled near a support pillar, her body twisted at an unnatural angle. Dark stains spread across her tactical armor—blood long since dried. Her red hair was matted with debris, her face pale but recognizable from the file photos Arthur had studied.
Ash approached slowly, her expression carefully controlled. "Commander," she said softly, kneeling beside the body. "I'm sorry it took us this long."
Arthur gave her a moment, then moved closer. Shepard had been dead approximately eighty hours—near the absolute limit even for the brain shelter's preservation capabilities. They had no time to waste.
"Ash," he said gently. "The shelter."
She nodded, retrieving the black container and setting it beside Shepard's body. Her hands were steady as she opened it, revealing the gel matrix interior designed to cradle and preserve neural tissue.
Then she pulled a compact surgical saw from her pack.
Arthur reached out, covering her hand. "No. I'll do it."
Ash looked up sharply. "Commander—"
"She was your leader. Your friend." Arthur's voice was firm but gentle. "You shouldn't have to carry that memory. I will."
"You're not trained for this. It has to be done precisely—cervical separation at C2, minimal damage to the brain stem and spinal connection points—"
"Then guide me through it." Arthur met her green eyes steadily. "But I'm the one holding the saw."
For a long moment, Ash stared at him. Then, slowly, she nodded and handed him the device. "Thank you."
Scarlet and Nyx maintained perimeter security while Lyra kept watch from an elevated position. Ash positioned Shepard's body, supporting the head carefully.
"Incision at the base of the skull, horizontal cut through the soft tissue first..." Her voice was clinical, detached—the only way to get through this. "Now the saw. Steady pressure, let the blade do the work. Keep the angle consistent."
Arthur forced himself to focus on the mechanics, not the reality of what he was doing. The saw's vibration traveled through his goddesium hands as he worked, following Ash's instructions with grim precision. Blood and preservative gel mixed together. The smell was chemical and metallic.
"Almost through. Careful of the spinal cord—there. Stop."
Ash's hands took over for the final separation, her movements practiced despite the tremor Arthur could see in her fingers. Then Shepard's head was free, and Ash was lowering it into the brain shelter's gel matrix with infinite care.
The container sealed with a soft hiss. Biometric locks engaged. The display panel flickered to life, showing neural activity patterns that meant Shepard's brain tissue was still viable.
"She's got a chance," Ash whispered. "We actually did it."
Arthur cleaned the saw, his stomach churning but his expression controlled. Behind him, he could hear Nyx's quiet curse of relief.
"Monarks, this is Shifty. Do you copy?" The operator's voice crackled urgently through their comms.
"Copy, Shifty. We've secured the package and are preparing to—"
"Abort extraction route Alpha. Major contact incoming from the northwest. I'm reading a Tyrant-class signature moving directly toward your position. ETA four minutes."
Arthur's blood ran cold. "The Reaper?"
"Affirmative. It's moving faster than standard Tyrant parameters. You need to go *now*."
Ash secured the brain shelter to her pack with swift, practiced movements. "Southeast exit. There's a maintenance tunnel that leads to the old subway system—"
The terminal's northwest wall exploded inward.
The Reaper emerged through the dust and debris like something from a nightmare. It stood ten meters tall, its frame a nightmarish fusion of organic curves and mechanical precision. Six limbs—four legs and two elongated arms ending in blade-like appendages. Its torso was armored in overlapping black plates that seemed to absorb light. And its head—a elongated skull shape with multiple glowing red optical sensors—turned toward them with terrible awareness.
"RUN!" Arthur shouted.
They scattered as the Reaper's chest opened, revealing a massive cannon assembly. Red light built in the barrel—
The laser beam carved through the terminal like a blade through paper. Stone exploded where Lyra had been standing a second before. Superheated air scorched Arthur's lungs as he dove behind a pillar.
"Southeast tunnel!" Ash was already moving, the brain shelter secured. "Two hundred meters!"
They ran. Behind them, the Reaper gave chase with horrifying speed, its limbs carrying it across the terminal in massive strides. Another laser blast vaporized a section of ceiling, raining debris.
Nyx turned mid-sprint, her rocket launcher already tracking. "Eat this!" The rocket streaked toward the Reaper's center mass—
The Tyrant's blade-arm moved in a blur, *slicing the rocket out of the air* before it could impact. The explosion washed over its armor harmlessly.
"Oh, you've got to be *fucking* kidding me!" Nyx reloaded on the move.
They reached the tunnel entrance—a gaping hole in the terminal's southeast wall—but the Reaper was closing fast. Its optical sensors blazed with red light, and Arthur realized with sick certainty that it was charging another shot.
"It's going to collapse the tunnel!" Scarlet's voice was sharp with recognition. "If we're inside when it fires—"
"Then we fight." Arthur turned, raising his rifle. "Shifty, tactical analysis—where's the core?"
"Scanning—stand by—" The operator's voice was tight with stress. "Core signature is in the upper torso, beneath the primary armor plating. Commander, you can't take a Tyrant-class with small arms—"
"We don't have a choice!" Arthur sighted on the Reaper's advancing form. "Monarks, concentrated fire on the chest assembly. We crack that armor or we die here!"
Lyra was already climbing to elevated ground, her rifle finding purchase on debris. "I need a weak point—"
"The joints where the arms connect," Ash called, taking position beside Arthur. "The plating has to flex there. If we can compromise the structural integrity—"
The Reaper's cannon fired.
Arthur threw himself sideways as the beam carved through his previous position. The heat was so intense his tactical vest began to smolder. He rolled, came up firing, his rounds sparking off the Tyrant's armor with negligible effect.
Scarlet circled right, her SMG chattering as she targeted the joint Ash had indicated. Nyx flanked left, waiting for an opening. Lyra's rifle cracked from above, each shot placed with surgical precision at the same weak point.
"It's working!" Ash's voice carried desperate hope. "Keep hitting that spot!"
The Reaper's attention shifted toward Lyra's position. Its blade-arms rose—
"OVER HERE!" Arthur sprinted into the open, firing in full auto, making himself the biggest possible threat.
The Tyrant turned, optical sensors locking onto him. Its chest cannon began cycling up for another shot. Arthur had perhaps three seconds to live.
Nyx's rocket struck the damaged joint.
The explosion tore through compromised armor, ripping the Reaper's right arm completely free. The Tyrant staggered, and for the first time, Arthur heard it make sound—a mechanical screech of damage alerts and structural stress.
"CORE IS EXPOSED!" Shifty screamed over comms. "Right side of the torso—you've got maybe ten seconds before it compensates!"
Lyra's next three shots went through the gap in rapid succession. Scarlet closed to point-blank range, dumping her entire magazine into the wound. Arthur saw the glow of the Reaper's core—a pulsing red sphere the size of a human head—and understood what had to be done.
He charged forward, drawing a high-explosive grenade from his vest.
The Reaper's remaining blade-arm swung toward him in a killing arc. Scarlet threw herself between them, taking the impact meant for Arthur. The blade punched through her torso and *kept going*, shearing through her lower body entirely.
Time seemed to stop. Arthur saw Scarlet's eyes widen with shock and pain, saw her legs separate from her torso in a spray of hydraulic fluid and synthetic blood, saw her begin to fall—
He caught her with one arm while his other hand activated the grenade and *threw it directly into the Reaper's exposed core*.
"DOWN!" he roared, hitting the ground and covering Scarlet's body with his own.
The explosion was apocalyptic. The Reaper's core detonated from within, the blast tearing through its entire structure. Shrapnel and debris rained across the terminal. Alarms shrieked. Secondary explosions rippled through the Tyrant's systems.
When Arthur looked up, the Reaper was on its side, smoke pouring from massive rents in its armor. Its optical sensors flickered and died. The threat was eliminated.
But Scarlet—
"Arthur." Her voice was weak, pain-threaded. She lay in his arms, her body ending at the waist, legs scattered meters away in ruined pieces. Hydraulic fluid pooled beneath her. "That... really hurt."
"Ash! Medical!" Arthur's hands shook as he tried to assess the damage. Scarlet's systems were failing, warnings scrolling across her visual display.
"We need to move her *now*," Ash said, already beside them with emergency repair supplies. "She's losing pressure fast. If her core goes into protection mode—"
"Standby," Scarlet whispered, her crimson eyes finding Arthur's face. "Put me... in standby. Can't... help anyway..."
"No. Stay with me—"
"Arthur. Commander." Her hand touched his cheek, the movement weak but deliberate. "Do it. Please. Don't... make me... suffer."
The words broke something inside him. He looked to Ash, who nodded grimly. "She's right. Standby will preserve her systems until we get back to full medical."
Arthur leaned close, pressing his forehead to Scarlet's. "I'm going to carry you home. I promise."
"I know." Her smile was faint but real. "You... always do."
He accessed her emergency override protocols—codes she'd given him weeks ago in trust—and activated standby mode. Scarlet's eyes dimmed, her systems powering down to minimal preservation state. The pain left her expression, replaced by peaceful stillness.
Nyx was already fashioning a harness from their gear. Together, she and Ash secured Scarlet's torso to Arthur's back, distributing the weight.
"Can you move?" Nyx's golden eyes were hard with determination and barely suppressed grief.
"I'll move." Arthur stood, feeling Scarlet's weight settle against him. His prosthetic legs took the load without complaint—built for exactly this kind of burden. "Shifty, do we have a clear route?"
"Affirmative. The Reaper's death seems to have scattered nearby patrols. You've got maybe a thirty-minute window before they regroup. Take the southeast tunnel—I'll guide you to the fastest extraction point."
Arthur looked at his squad. Ash carried the brain shelter with Shepard's preserved head. Lyra's armor showed scorch marks and stress fractures. Nyx's rocket launcher was nearly out of ammunition. And Scarlet—
He forced the thought away. They would make it. He would get them all home.
"Monarks," he said, voice rough but steady. "Move out."
They entered the tunnel and began the long journey back to the Ark, leaving the Reaper's smoking corpse behind in the ruins of the terminal.