The passageway was cramped, allowing little space to move. Corrin moved on as fast as he possibly could in the tunnel. Inch by inch, they were making their way up a steep climb. The walls pressed up against him, seeming to get smaller and smaller. Sweat trickled down his brow, tearing up his eyes. He could not wipe them. He had no room. His head was hot, and his skin tingled with hair standing on end. Corrin was claustrophobic. Yet, there was nothing that could stop him from getting to O'Connor before the wretched Imperials. "We're almost there…" Jasper grunted in a voice that did not assure Corrin in the least. The walls shook violently as the sound of gunfire drifted through the thin steel. They crawled onward, listen to the agonized screams of dying humans. It went on forever. Finally, Corrin had had enough. He slammed his fist into the steel, denting it. The swelling on his knuckles washed away slowly as his new found energy flooded his body. His eyes were blurring. Speeding forward, he left the other two climbers far behind. The passageway faded into a mesh of grey steel color. He rushed on, blindly, blundering his way up the flattening steep. Suddenly, his head broke out in excruciating pain. He stumbled backwards, looking ahead. He had collided, head first, with a steel girder. "You better have been Frakking right about this, Jasper..." He murmured. It was silent. "Jasper?" He could not see behind, his neck only able to swivel so far. "Grange?" He cursed under his breath. He was alone. There was nothing left to do. He pushed on the grate. A mechanical voice boomed into his ear. What do you protect? Corrin froze, bewildered. The voice repeated itself. He delved into his mind. A pass code, what could…of course! "Libertas, Gaudium, Admonitu." he said, clearly. There was a small clank, and the girder fell. He took a deep breath and plunged into the light beyond. "Don't move." someone spat. Corrin obliged, completely still. "Number; rank; name." "11214, Sergeant Corrin…" but he was cut off. "Grant!" a second voice called in surprise. "You may stand." It was O'Connor. Corrin pulled himself up and looked around. The Offician Room was in full lock-down. Guards stood at every steel plated window, ever small vent, and all around the president. The door was covered with dozens of figures, pressing against its grated form; holding it in place. The President motioned for his bodyguards to part, and he made for Corrin. Smiling he extended his hand. Corrin winced, without reason, as he took his President's hand in his and shook. "I've heard stories." He laughed, dryly. O'Connor was not known for his humor. "Sir, you must realize the city is falling. We have to take you from this place!" Corrin urged. The President shook his head and placed his hand on Corrin's shoulder. "Sergeant, I cannot leave my people in the eleventh hour." O'Connor sighed. Corrin shot a scornful look at the bodyguards of the President. How could they let this happen? He had to be saved. They knew the Capital would fall. Corrin had not come to defend a relic of Merica's former glory; he had come to save O'Connor. He would. "No sir, I protest. I am taking you with me." Corrin shouted. He looked to the window, then back at O'Connor. "You will not live if you stay. The Capital will fall. we have to get you away…" "I am the one who decides what must be done, Grant!" The President roared, his face inches from Corrin's. "Don't…" the man breathed a heavy breath "tell me what to do." "I…" "I can stand this not further!" O'Connor cried. One of the guards stepped forward and placed his hands on Corrin's shoulders, preparing to remove him from the President's presence. "No…" O'Connor murmured. "Kill him." All was silent. The man removed his hands from Corrin and stepped back. They all stared at the President, dumbstruck. Then, it came. Corrin was staring at the man he had been trying to protect, eye to eye. O'Connor's face flashed with blue light. "Kill him!" the man bellowed, in a voice not his own. The lights blew out, and the room was suddenly illuminated in blue light, dancing off of the walls and in the eyes of the surrounding bodyguards. As if their minds became set, they all took up a fighting position. Corrin swung about, cornered, the circle of guards closing in. There was a great blast, as the room was flooded with light. The double doors were ripped apart in a vortex of red energy and dozens of soldiers were thrown into the air like rag dolls. "Get the Hell away from him…" it was Grange. Jasper stood at his side. They were both positioned in the shattered doorway, weapons raised, ready to kill. As one, the entranced guards fired on Corrin. He grunted as a single slug pounded into his chest. With new found agility, Corrin soared above the line of shells, blood trickling down his shirt. His own rifle fired into the crowd of Mericans. He shuddered, knowing that he was killing his own. Somehow, their will had changed. They were no longer truly Merican. The fight continued for only a moment as the few remaining guards were dispatched of. Corrin slid back to accompany his allies. The three stood as a single force of impending death, facing the final figure in the room: O'Connor. Jasper stumbled forwards. "Thank God, you are safe sir! I was afraid those treacherous…" He began. "Jasper, don't you see? This isn't the President!" Corrin warned, making for the Marine's side. Jasper turned, confused. "What are you…?" Then, he was gone, his body engulfed in blue flame. Smoldering gore splattered like rain across the office and sizzled on the walls. The smoke cleared to reveal nothing. Jasper was not but burnt ash. O'Connor cackled, his laughter growing louder and louder. Corrin could not move. Fear, for the first time, paralyzed him. In a matter of seconds, the man who had fought in Capar, who had saved his life more than once, and who had become a great friend…was gone. "How dare you…" Grange growled. He did not need to use words. Corrin saw the plasmatic blast rip through the air and impact with the President before Grange had finished speaking. Yet, when the light had faded, O'Connor was not gone as Jasper had been. His body slowly elevated from the ground, fading away like an old photograph. Slowly, Corrin saw it. The man was changing form. O'Connor was no more. A much more sinister figure was taking his place; taller, more slender. Corrin's eyes widened. He knew the features. He knew them all too well. The man landed on the ground, electricity crackling around him in a stormy pattern. "Thank you, friends, for releasing me from the clumsy mortal!" the man lifted his head. "I could not bare such weakness for much longer." Corrin could not believe it. The man that stood before him was grinning, a smug grin. "So, it has come down to this, Corrin; just you, me, and an innocent bystander." It was Riktus.