Marian's voice fractured into something inhuman, each repetition more mechanical than the last.
"Over here. Over here. Over here."
Arthur lunged toward her, but the world exploded before he could reach her. The warehouse wall disintegrated in a shower of concrete and twisted rebar as something massive tore through. Ten meters of corrupted metal and writhing mechanical limbs crashed into their position.
The Blacksmith.
Four spider-like legs supported a torso that defied reason—a fusion of Rapture technology and something far worse. Across its upper body, dozens of glass cylinders protruded like grotesque decorations, each filled with bubbling red digestive fluid. Inside those cylinders, Arthur could see them. The Nikkes from Squad Eleven. Their bodies suspended, slowly dissolving, faces frozen in silent screams as they were broken down into component parts.
"*SCATTER!*" Arthur roared.
The squad exploded outward as tentacles lashed down, each appendage tipped with injection needles designed to penetrate synthetic flesh. Arthur rolled behind a concrete pillar, his prosthetic legs absorbing the impact as debris rained around him.
A tentacle shot toward Marian. She stood frozen, her corrupted systems preventing flight, her mouth still forming those terrible words. The appendage pierced her chest, and Arthur watched in horror as red corruption fluid pumped directly into her core systems.
Her body convulsed once. Twice. Then she went limp as the Blacksmith retracted its tentacle, pulling her upward. A cylinder on its torso opened with a hiss of hydraulics and toxic vapor. Marian disappeared inside, the red fluid immediately beginning its work.
"No!" Arthur's voice broke. "MARIAN!"
"Commander!" Scarlet's shout cut through his shock. "We need orders! *Now!*"
Arthur forced himself to think past the rage and grief. The Blacksmith pivoted on its mechanical legs, scanning for its next target. Its core—if it had a vulnerable core—was somewhere in that massive torso, protected by layers of armor and those horrific cylinders.
"Nyx! Target the legs! Mobility kill!" Arthur's tactical mind reasserted itself through sheer force of will. "Rapi, Anis, suppressing fire on the torso! Look for weak points! Scarlet, Lyra, you're with me—we flank left and find that core!"
The Screamin' Eagle roared first. Nyx's upgraded strength allowed her to maintain stability as the rocket launcher bucked in her hands. The explosive round slammed into the Blacksmith's forward left leg, blowing away armor plating and exposing hydraulic systems beneath.
Rapi moved like a professional, her assault rifle barking in controlled bursts aimed at joints and seams in the Tyrant's armor. Anis positioned herself beside a support pillar, her grenade launcher sending high-explosive rounds into the creature's midsection. Each impact created small breaches in its defensive shell.
"Left flank, moving!" Arthur sprinted along the warehouse perimeter, Scarlet matching his pace while Lyra found elevation on a stack of shipping containers. His prosthetic legs ate up the distance, his assault rifle ready.
The Blacksmith recognized the threat. Four tentacles lashed toward Arthur's position simultaneously. He dove into a slide, his mechanical body allowing maneuvers flesh and bone couldn't replicate. The tentacles struck concrete where he'd been, their needle tips screeching against the floor.
Scarlet opened fire, her SMG stitching a line up one tentacle. The creature screeched—a sound like metal tearing and digital screaming combined—and redirected its attention.
"Core location identified," Lyra's calm voice came through comms. "Center mass, beneath the cylinder array. Heavy armor, but I'm seeing stress fractures from Anis's grenades."
"Signal to Monarks," the young sniper's voice carried barely controlled fear. "I have a shot on those stress fractures. Permission to engage?"
"Negative," Arthur replied, circling to the Tyrant's exposed flank. "Distance is too great, and we need you for overwatch if we have to retreat. Delta, status on incoming hostiles?"
"Multiple contacts converging on your position," Delta reported. "You have maybe five minutes before you're overrun."
Five minutes to kill a Tyrant-class. Arthur had done it before, but the Reaper hadn't been carrying five Nikke bodies worth of enhanced processing power.
Another tentacle shot toward him. This time Arthur didn't dodge—he grabbed it with his prosthetic hands. The goddesium plating held against the creature's strength, and he used the momentum to swing himself upward, his rifle coming up to fire point-blank into the tentacle's base joint. Synthetic muscle and hydraulic fluid sprayed as the appendage partially severed.
The Blacksmith shrieked and swung its torso, trying to shake him off. Arthur released his grip, landed in a combat roll, and came up firing. His rounds sparked off armor but kept the creature focused on him.
"Nyx! Second leg, same target!"
The Screamin' Eagle spoke again. The already-damaged leg exploded completely, hydraulics rupturing in a spray of lubricant. The Blacksmith's weight shifted, its balance compromised. It crashed partially onto its right side, the cylinder array tilting at a steep angle.
Inside those cylinders, the dissolving Nikkes rolled like grotesque decorations. Arthur forced himself not to look at their faces.
"Core is exposed!" Rapi called out, her professional assessment cutting through the chaos. "Sixty-degree angle, upper left quadrant!"
Arthur saw it—a seam in the armor where the core's red glow pulsed beneath layers of corrupted metal. But it was recessed, protected. They needed something with penetrating power.
"Lyra! Can you make that shot?"
"Negative. Angle is wrong, and armor is too thick. I'd need—" She paused. "Commander, if Nyx can hit the cylinder array directly above the core, the rupture might create enough pressure differential to expose it fully."
"Those cylinders contain Nikkes," Scarlet said quietly.
"Those Nikkes are already dead," Anis replied, her voice flat and bitter. "They've been melting for hours. All we can do now is make sure they didn't die for nothing."
Arthur's jaw clenched. Another impossible choice. Another terrible calculation. But Anis was right—the Nikkes in those cylinders were beyond saving. Marian was beyond saving. All he could do was prevent more deaths.
"Nyx, target the cylinder array. Center mass. Maximum charge."
"On it." Nyx's upgraded systems allowed her to load and charge the Screamin' Eagle faster than before. She braced herself against a support column, her enhanced muscles absorbing the weapon's recoil compensation. "Firing."
The rocket screamed across the warehouse, trailing fire and smoke. It struck the cylinder array dead center. The explosion was immediate and catastrophic—dozens of pressurized cylinders ruptured simultaneously, red fluid and dissolved Nikke components spraying across the Blacksmith's torso. The creature convulsed as its own digestive system backfired, the caustic fluid eating through internal systems.
And there, exposed by the rupture and the creature's thrashing, was the core. A massive crystalline structure pulsing with stolen energy, its surface cracked and unstable from the sudden trauma.
"All units, concentrated fire!" Arthur commanded. "Everything you have!"
Six weapons spoke as one. Lyra's sniper rifle cracked repeatedly, each shot precise and devastating. Rapi and Scarlet's assault weapons stitched patterns across the core's surface. Anis's grenades exploded in sequence, each blast widening the cracks. Nyx loaded and fired again, her rocket finding its mark despite the Blacksmith's frantic evasive movements.
Arthur emptied his magazine, reloaded without looking, emptied it again. His prosthetic hands moved with perfect precision, his enhanced body allowing firing patterns that would tear human muscles apart.
The core fractured. Then shattered. The Blacksmith's shriek reached a pitch that shattered remaining glass across the warehouse. Its legs spasmed, its tentacles flailed wildly, and then it collapsed like a puppet with cut strings.
As it died, its torso convulsed one final time. A hidden cylinder on its underside opened, and a body tumbled out onto the concrete floor.
Marian.
Arthur was running before conscious thought caught up, his enhanced legs carrying him across the warehouse in seconds. He slid to his knees beside her, his prosthetic hands hovering uselessly over her corrupted body.
Red veins spread across her synthetic skin like poisoned rivers. Her eyes glowed with that terrible crimson light, flickering now, struggling against the corruption. Her beautiful features were twisted, her mouth moving to form words her damaged vocal systems could barely produce.
"Over... here... over... here..."
Behind him, his squad formed a protective semicircle. Rapi and Anis approached slowly, their weapons lowered but ready.
"She's corrupted," Rapi stated, her voice gentle despite the clinical assessment. "The infection is throughout her entire system. Bringing her to the Ark would be a catastrophic security risk."
"We have to leave her," Anis added quietly. "Or..."
She didn't finish. She didn't have to.
"I'll do it," Anis said suddenly. "Commander, you shouldn't have to—"
"Protocol prevents Nikkes from harming other Nikkes," Rapi interrupted, her hand on Anis's shoulder. "Our programming won't allow it. It has to be—"
"Me," Arthur finished. His voice sounded hollow in his own ears. "It has to be me."
His hands shook as he drew his sidearm. The weapon felt impossibly heavy, heavier than his prosthetic arms should be able to register. He moved closer to Marian's corrupted form, kneeling beside her.
Her glowing eyes brightened fractionally as he approached. Some fragment of recognition fighting through the corruption.
Arthur raised the weapon, aiming at her head. His hands trembled despite the mechanical stability of his prosthetics. This wasn't combat. This was execution. This was killing someone who had trusted him, who he had promised to bring home.
Marian's broken voice managed two more words.
"Over... here... Commander..."
Her damaged hand moved slowly, painfully, reaching up to touch the barrel of his weapon. She adjusted his aim, helping him find the precise angle that would destroy her core processors instantly, without suffering.
Then she smiled. Sad and small and achingly human.
"Thank... you... bandage..."
Her finger, still possessing that terrible corrupted strength, found his trigger finger. Wrapped around it. And pulled.
The shot echoed across the warehouse like thunder.
Marian's eyes went dark immediately, the red glow extinguishing like a candle in the wind. Her body relaxed, the tension of corruption finally releasing. She looked almost peaceful.
Arthur's hands continued to shake. He couldn't lower the weapon. Couldn't move. Couldn't think past the ringing in his ears and the weight crushing his chest.
"Commander." Scarlet's voice, gentle but urgent. "We have to go. More Raptures are coming."
Arthur looked down at Marian's body. They couldn't take her. No time, too dangerous. But he couldn't leave her like this. Not after everything.
His prosthetic hands moved automatically, muscle memory from his Outer Rim days taking over. He pulled medical supplies from his pack—clean white bandages, completely unnecessary, completely meaningless. He wrapped them carefully around the wound in her head, covering the damage he had inflicted.
A bandage for a Nikke who couldn't bleed. A gesture of humanity in a world that had forgotten what that meant.
"Commander, *now*," Nyx urged.
Arthur stood. His squad surrounded him, their own damage evident. Lyra's left arm hung at an awkward angle, synthetic muscle torn and sparking. Scarlet's armor showed deep gouges where tentacles had nearly penetrated. But they were mobile. They were alive. They could still fight.
"Extraction," Arthur said, his voice mechanical and distant. "Double time. Watch for corruption vectors. If anyone shows symptoms—"
He couldn't finish that sentence.
They ran. Through the warehouse, into the ruined streets beyond, toward the LZ where Torres waited with engines hot and extraction ramps down. Behind them, Rapture howls grew louder as reinforcements converged on the Blacksmith's death site.
Arthur didn't look back. Couldn't look back. Because if he did, he would see Marian's body lying alone in that warehouse, wearing bandages that meant nothing and everything, and he wasn't sure he could keep moving if he had to face that image again.
The shuttle lifted off just as the first Rapture patrols arrived. Signal and Delta's covering fire kept the enemy suppressed long enough for Torres to gain altitude and bank hard toward the Ark.
In the troop compartment, Arthur finally lowered his weapon. His prosthetic hands were steady now. Perfectly steady. Too steady.
Scarlet sat beside him, not touching, just present. Across from him, Rapi and Anis remained silent, their expressions carefully neutral. Lyra clutched her damaged arm, and Nyx checked and rechecked her weapons with mechanical precision.
They had won. They had killed a Tyrant-class Rapture, rescued survivors, completed an impossible mission against overwhelming odds.
And Arthur had executed one of the people he had promised to save.
This was command. This was leadership. This was the price of treating Nikkes as human—accepting that sometimes, humanity meant showing mercy through the most terrible means available.
This was victory.
Arthur closed his eyes and tried not to see Marian's sad smile behind his eyelids. He failed.