Tyr's lungs were burning. His breath echoed rapidly around him in his helmet. His shoulders burned from carrying his light machinegun for so long. They were four floors below the main control room; their path back seemingly cut off by the same creatures that Eisha had encountered. His visor had already integrated the battle report into his own files; each of the creatures was immediately tagged with a block of red across the blue sacs and its face. Tyr didn't see these things as anything more than new targets: he knew how to kill them, he knew how they would try to kill him. He didn't care about anything else.

Vakarian held up a hand as he approached the corner of the white-tiled hall they had been traversing. Tyr sank to one knee, his eyes fixed on the turian and his finger tight around the trigger. It had been deadly quiet for the last twenty minutes. It was becoming unnerving. Tyr glanced behind him; the geth stared back blankly, the single eye examining him. Vei was facing down the corridor, rifle raised and body tense; his chest was rising and falling rhythmically as he tried to recover from the constant fighting. His eyes flicking back to the geth once more, Tyr swivelled to face Vakarian, who had risen to his feet and stepped cautiously around the corner. The turian gave a sharp nod, then lowered his rifle. Tyr rose to his feet and followed him, his boots echoing softly in the tense silence of the hallway.

"You do know where you're going right?" Tyr muttered to the turian, stepping up beside him. Unlike Vakarian, Tyr's machinegun was raised and ready. The corridor looked almost identical to the last one; which only heightened the tension in Tyr's body.

"I'm improvising," Vakarian said curtly.

"I was hoping you wouldn't say that," Tyr grimaced.

"Have you got a better idea?" The turian hissed.

Tyr glanced behind him. The geth was several metres behind, with Vei still bringing up the rear. He lowered his voice so that it was barely audible above the sound of his boots on the floor. "I need that geth upstairs in one piece."

"I'd quite like to keep him alive too," Vakarian muttered.

"This is different."

"How?"

"I've got orders."

"How is that different?" Vakarian frowned.

"Because I follow my orders," Tyr snapped at the turian. "No matter the cost."

"You'd make a good turian."

"I already make a good Revenant, why would I want to be anything else?"

"Garrus, you copy?" A voice crackled in Tyr's earpiece. It wavered for a moment – flickering between buzzing static and indistinguishable words – then Tyr vaguely heard it say. "Xin, get this cleaned up."

"Zhar?" Vakarian stopped walking.

"Listen to me," Zhar's voice came through clearer. It was calm, cold, and professional. "Cerberus is on your trail. They're using the creatures to pin you down; they're hunting you using your radio frequency – we used some of the facility's terminals to bounce the message around to keep them distracted for a while."

"So what do we do?"

"We've got the blueprints," Zhar said quickly. "I'll direct you to an elevator."

"Are you sure this will –," Vei started, the distrust evident in his voice.

"When I go out of my way to inform you that you're being hunted," Zhar cut off his subordinate in a stern voice, "I expect you to listen and obey every command I give you, because it's probably going to save your life."

"He's right," Tyr found himself saying, much to his own surprise; not to mention Vei's. "Besides, we don't have much of a choice."

"Fine, where to?" Vakarian asked Zhar.

"Straight ahead, then left at the junction."

The turian nodded and continued down the corridor.

"We heard you speaking with Garrus Vakarian."

The geth's voice came clearly through Tyr's earpiece. He tensed at the unexpected contact; his trigger finger almost tightened enough to let a round off into the back of Vakarian's head. It might have been messy, Tyr thought as he eased his finger off the trigger of his machinegun, but worse things could happen. He then turned his attention to the geth, turning off his suit's microphone and keeping the conversation private. The geth itself could communicate silently via electronic impulses sent across the frequency.

"Is the channel safe?"

"We have scrambled the frequency multiple times."

This didn't comfort Tyr much. But with those… things on his back, nothing really would. "Speaking about what?"

"Zhar has given you orders to make sure we survive this encounter."

"And your point is?" Tyr asked, twisting around the corner of the hallway to check the junction was clear. He gave a sharp nod, and the other three moved left along the path Zhar had set them on. For better or worse.

"We wish to thank you. We understand you would not ordinarily have wanted to follow this order."

"The hallway branches off in thirty metres. Follow it."

"Let's get something straight," Tyr now took up position at the rear of the group. "My personal views are not involved in this. I'm following orders because my commanding officer gave me them."

"Would this be the case regardless of the person giving the orders?"

"Why should it matter?"

"Ten metres."

"Would you accept that order from Second Lieutenant Eisha'Fenn vas Doranz?"

"She wouldn't have given it," Tyr frowned, still trying to work out what point the geth was trying to make.

"She does not inspire the same confidence?" The geth asked as the team rounded the corner into a corridor that was nearly identical to the last one.

"I can't explain how Zhar runs the First Company through words," Tyr said slowly. "He's seen as a hero. There's a certain respect for what he's been through. And he's a damn good soldier."

"This should bring you to the elevator."

"Is that all he is?"

Tyr had to pause for thought. He had only ever known Zhar as a soldier; in fact he'd only ever known anyone as a soldier after he joined the Revenants. There was a certain camaraderie amongst the unit that went beyond friendships. Maybe it was just the fact that no matter how bad your own nightmares were – there was no denying it, they all had them – there was probably someone who was feeling just a little worse than you were. Or maybe it was because despite his faults, Zhar inspired confidence in everyone he worked with. He was dependable, professional, and an expert in the field; all he demanded in return was respect – a respect that he had earned on countless operations. A respect that Tyr was happy to give him after his momentary lapse. But that was it: he had that respect because he was a good soldier. Soldiers looked up to him because he was the best soldier in the company, if not the regiment.

"Yes," Tyr said firmly. "Like all of us."

At that moment, the lights shattered. Tyr twisted around, flicking his visor to its night vision setting and waiting to see if anyone was approaching. Around him, the other three looked tense and strained as well. Their feet crunched on broken glass; the smell of burning metal hung in the air. Having asserted that they weren't under attack, Vakarian tentatively tapped his earpiece.

"Zhar, what just happened?"

"Cerberus… electrics… working on it."

"Say again," Vakarian tapped his earpiece, the tension evident in his voice. "Zhar? Tali? Liara?"

Tyr saw a flicker of movement at the end of the corridor. It suddenly dawned on him that if Cerberus disabled the electrics, then Zhar's plan to hide their position by bouncing the radio frequency off of active terminals would fall apart. The creatures would be on them moments after picking up the trail. Seeing another flicker of movement, Tyr reactivated his microphone and shouted to the other three.

"Hostiles on our six!"

"Let's move," Vakarian snapped at them, taking off down the corridor.

Tyr slung his machinegun over his back and sprinted after the others. They each stood out as blocks of varying shades of green on his visor: Vei was lithe and agile; the geth – Legion – was thin and skeletal, almost identical to Vei. Vakarian stood out the most distinctly – his thick, heavy armour making him appear as a single shade of deep green. From behind them, Tyr heard a guttural snarl. He pushed through the pain in his legs and kept running, desperate to reach their one chance of escape in the elevator.

"We've got… so… control," Zhar's voice crackled in Tyr's earpiece. "Trying… reacti… vator."

"What happens when we get there?" Tyr asked between breaths.

"Hold them."

Tyr gritted his teeth and kept running, not daring to look behind him. Dark blocks of black and green flashed past on either side of him, most of them barely identifiable. A flicker of intensely bright white-green flickered ahead of him. Zhar and his team must have regained control of the facility's electrics; the lights that hadn't shattered when Cerberus overloaded the system were now struggling to illuminate the shadowy corridor. Not far behind them, Tyr heard the grunts and snarls of the creatures as they began to close in on them. A curious thought crossed his mind: these creatures could shoot them, so why weren't they? There was no obvious reason for Cerberus to hold back on them. Tyr was given little time to ponder this thought, as they emerged into a large circular room. Just as he passed over the threshold, the door slammed shut with enough force to rattle the thick metal in its frame.

Vakarian stepped away from the panel, having overridden the safety locks on the door. From somewhere on the other side, a bloodcurdling screech emanated from the door. The creatures bellowed in anger, their prey having escaped them; but none of them made any attempt to break the door down. Still breathing hard, Tyr looked around at the room they had entered into in an attempt to distract himself from the noise. It was almost perfectly round, with four doors all directly opposite each other. By the door to his left, Tyr saw an elevator panel. The others looked the exact same as the one they had just come through. Figuring there was enough light to see by, Tyr flicked off his night vision.

"Legion, take a look at that elevator," Vakarian ordered the geth. "See if you can get it running."

"Affirmative," the geth nodded and began to examine the panel. After several moments, it turned back to them. "The elevator is functioning perfectly. It will take us almost directly to Zhar's location."

"Well that should just be perfect," a female voice said. The faintest trace of a quarian accent could be heard.

Tyr spun around, pulling his machinegun from his back. A female quarian stood there, her dark armour and tight black jacket drinking in the light. A mess of tangled black hair hung around her shoulders. Tyr had to take a second look. She wasn't wearing a mask. She – a quarian – wasn't wearing a mask! He glanced across at Vei, whose rifle was wavering slightly. Those creatures might have seemed like twisted, unnatural experiments, but seeing one of his own species like this shook Tyr to his core. He swallowed heavily and edged back towards the geth. Vakarian was moving back too, his eyes narrow and his hands tight on his rifle. Jan looked back blankly. Tyr scanned her for weapons, but all he could see was a short, thin sword strapped across her back.

"Legion, how long on that elevator?" Tyr muttered to it, not taking his eyes off of Jan for a moment.

"It will arrive presently," the geth replied.

"Oh, don't tell me you're leaving now," Jan scowled at them, as if they were leaving her birthday party. "I have to introduce you to my new friends! I'm going to introduce them to Zhar, who you kindly located for us. They'll be arriving… presently."

Tyr shut off his microphone and opened up a private channel.

"Zhar, your position's been compromised."

"I know," the Lieutenant replied. In the background, Tyr could hear gunfire.

"The geth – Legion," Tyr said quietly, "How badly do you need it?"

Jan grinned and drew her sword.

Zhar took a long time to reply. "He can stop the war between our races."

Nobody seemed willing to act first.

"Is that what's best for the Revenants?" Tyr asked, shifting his machinegun trained on Jan's head.

They were completely still. The geth's fingers worked furiously to speed up the elevator.

"It's what's best for our people," Zhar said, his voice almost lost in an explosion.

"I thought so," Tyr nodded.

Zhar was right. Of course he was right. Zhar was his Lieutenant.

Tyr looked from Jan to Legion and back again.

And he made his choice.

The roar of his machinegun filled the room, the bullets disintegrating immediately on Jan's shields. She darted towards him as Vei and Vakarian opened fire as well. Just as she got into sword-range, Tyr hurled his machinegun at her. The move caught Jan off-guard, and she took her time to check her run and duck under the weapon, allowing Tyr to unsheathe his knife and go on the offensive. He might be cut off from any help from Vei, Vakarian, or Legion, but that didn't matter now. Jan's focus was entirely on him, and completely off the geth.

Tyr struck out with a kick to Jan's stomach, sending her staggering backwards, then followed it up with a jab from his knife. Jan caught it on her gauntlet, then aimed a sharp kick at his leg. Tyr jumped backwards to dodge the move, then twisted aside to avoid a swipe from her sword. Out of the corner of his eye, Tyr saw the elevator door open. Vei, Legion, and Vakarian slipped inside, their rifles still trained on Jan. Tyr made no move towards the escape route. He had orders, and he was going to follow them.

"Tyr!" Vei shouted at him. "Let's go!"

"Tell Zhar that I followed his orders," Tyr called to him. "And tell him I was happy to do it."

"How touching," Jan smiled condescendingly. "I followed Zhar's orders too. Maybe Cerberus will help you too, Tyr."

"I'll die before that happens," Tyr narrowed his eyes and gripped his knife tighter. "Now go!"

Vakarian hit the elevator button and the doors slid closed. The last thing Tyr saw was Legion's face. Then Jan was on him again, her sword whistling through the air. Tyr moved to block it with his knife, but to his horror the sword cut straight through the diamond-tipped edge. The blade carried on and cut into the armour around his left shoulder, burrowing deep into the flesh below. A rune flashed on Tyr's visor to inform him that his suit had been breached. His left arm went numb. He rammed the remainder of his knife into Jan's chest. She wrenched the sword out of his arm and kicked him away, then turned her attention to the knife. With a sharp tug, Jan pulled the blade out of her armour; and to Tyr's horror, it was completely bloodless. He hadn't even breached her skin.

"You see," Jan tossed the knife away. "I'm better in every way."

Tyr pulled back his numb arm and began to circle Jan. She lashed out with her sword, the blade whistling towards his neck. Tyr caught her by the wrist with his one working hand and hammered his knee into her side. The other quarian grunted in pain as he pummelled her side, his knee striking hard and fast every time. As he went for the fifth or sixth strike, Jan kicked out at the leg bearing all of his weight. Tyr crashed to the ground, rolling aside just before Jan's sword impaled him. He scrambled back to his feet, but halfway up he was met by a kick to the chin and his head snapped up towards the ceiling. Jan kicked him again, pushing him back against the wall and knocking the breath from his lungs. Still spinning from the kick to his face, Tyr tried to dodge another kick, but he was too slow. His knee collapsed as Jan targeted the kneecap. Ligaments tore, tendons snapped, and bone shattered as the knee was forced backwards. Tyr howled in pain as he collapsed back against the wall. Then he felt a cold, hard, metal object enter his chest.

Tyr blinked. He hadn't been stabbed in the chest before. He tried to swallow back the blood gushing into his mouth, but he couldn't. He looked down at the sword, then up at Jan. And he made a choice. The choice that every person has in life - one that Tyr and all of his brothers and sisters made when he joined the Revenants. The choice to fight. He gripped Jan's hand and pulled the sword deeper into him, growling like a beast as it severed tissue, cut through organs, and grated against bone. Tyr pulled himself back to his feet, ignoring the pain in his shattered knee, and stared into Jan's black eyes through his rapidly darkening vision. They were filled with fear. Fear of him. Fear of Cerberus. Fear of Zhar. He released her hand, and punched her squarely across the jaw. He smiled at this last act of defiance as Jan pulled her sword out of him.