"Huh."

Their path came to a stop. No more open doors. No more broken walls. The corridor just stopped.

"Are you sure we're heading the right way?"

"Speak for yourself. You can smell them too, right?"

Ross was correct. The stench of Sentinels was the strongest in this dead end, but the place was empty. The only thing Tora could hear was her own breathing.

Ross studied the complicated-looking machines lining the sides, tapping her chin. The scene seemed like it came straight out of a sci-fi film. Dimmed screens stood atop humming machines. Lights flashed here and there. Tora kicked the ground, looking for a secret trapdoor. Carlos would be helpful about now. She wondered what he was up to.

"Makrl will do anything to deter you," said Ross in a low voice.

"I know," said Tora mildly.

Ross slapped her arm.

"I'm serious! I wouldn't put anything past him. If he can kill Damien..." Ross swallowed. "I wouldn't put anything past him!"

"I know! Geez." Tora stepped back and squinted up at the ceiling next. "I've fought against this kind before. Remember that TV series that Carlos liked so much, with the triple-crossing professor that nobody trusted? Turns out he was rooting for the kid 'cos of some old romance with his mum but the head dude wanted information on the bad guy—"

"Yes, I know."

"And we spent most of season six hating him 'cos he killed the head guy—"

"Yes, I know," Ross said, irritated.

"Sentinels are like that guy, except the loyalty will always to their own kind. But he can quadruple cross or more. And they've got lizard brains. They can't love or pity." Tora shrugged. "It's common knowledge."

"But if he knows your weakness, he can manipulate you."

"They're only words. They can't affect me."

Ross snorted derisively.

"I haven't heard something so ridiculous since meeting Carlos."

Tora scowled. She flicked the light switch on the wall. No effect – not that she expected any.

"How come you remember that series so well anyway? I thought you were always saying Carlos goes through TV series like an addict on drugs. Even Damien can't always keep up."

Damien's voice said out loud made her chest ache.

"That episode played when Carlos found out my real name."

"So?" Tora couldn't see why Ross looked so furious.

"He complimented it."

"Rosalind is a nice name."

"Yeah? Not in my household." She shuddered. "Jesus freaking Christ."

Tora shook her head and turned. Her words died on her lips. She blinked.

"Ross."

"Yeah?"

"Look at the sign on the wall."

Ross followed Tora's pointed finger. A green sticker was at the top near the ceiling. In square white letters were 'ARE EXn'.

"Are exen?" Ross read out loud.

"Yeah... what?"

Ross ran her hand down the blank wall underneath. There was nothing out of the ordinary.

"Do you think...?"

"That this is bull? Heck yeah." With a running start, Tora leapt through the air and slammed her heels straight at where Ross's hand was moments before. To her surprise, the whole rectangular area shimmered and vanished. Tora landed on all fours and leapt to her feet. Where the wall was there now lay a stunned Sentinel in a heap on the floor.

"You mad?" muttered Ross.

"Always. Why?" Tora grinned.

"What if Markl hears us?"

Tora gestured. From beneath the machinery and behind closed doors, more Sentinels emerged, clutching weapons.

"I think they were expecting us anyway."

Ross grimaced.

"Just watch out for their weapons. If they're any good at Lyre stuff, the effects can be... surprising."

"Thank you for the kind consideration."

There were perhaps ten Sentinels, none of them Tora recognised nor had much reservation about; probably just pawns.

"Don't play around now, Tora."

She didn't need telling twice. Markl approached the Artefact with every second and Carlos's life remained at risk. Tora threw up a wall around the closest Sentinel, who held a short sword. She clenched her fist. The forcefield shrunk. The Sentinel struggled against the pressure, but didn't cave in like a crushed bug as she expected. The metal plates pressed against each other, holding up.

Two Sentinels rushed at her from her left and right, clutching thin swords. Tora dropped her shield and windmill-kicked him in the chest.

The impact sent a shudder up her leg and the Sentinel flew backwards. The armour didn't crack like she expected. They dived at her, weapons swinging. Tora parried their hits with the forcefield. They were unrelenting: every opening she revealed, they would strike. A flurry of movements followed her every attack, and yet none of her own hits cracked their armour.

She caught the right-sided Sentinel by the gauntlet on his wrist. His blade, glowing red, passed in front of her face by millimetres. The hairs on her fringe curled, the stinging scent of burned hair reached her nostrils. She shifted her weight and carried him over her. The sword pierced the other Sentinel's chest and passed cleanly through like it was cheese. The injured Sentinel's blade flew towards her head.

She jerked back. It skimmed her cheek. Pain sparked across her face. Weapons fell with a clang. The flying Sentinel crashed into his colleague into a heap. Tora picked up the dropped blade.

The first Sentinel made to scramble up, but his sword had melted into the armour of the other Sentinel, welding the blade with the body. He tugged furiously, but it remained silver and unrelenting.

Tora kicked him with her heel. He went crashing down. With one foot, she slammed him down onto the floor again as he made to get up.

She raised the bloodied sword.

A jolt of electricity shot up her leg. She dropped it with a clatter, swearing. She kicked off the hand of the half-dead, speared Sentinel.

"The hell?"

She wiped her cheek, reaching for the blade again. She stopped. Her hand came away dripping with blood. She wiped it with her other hand – same again. It was barely a scratch!

Taking advantage of her surprise, the downed Sentinel scrabbled for the sword she had and jabbed it at her. She reacted too slowly. She twisted; it struck her just below the ribs, narrowly avoiding her major artery, and it passed through to the other side.

She snarled. One hand clamped onto the Sentinel's gauntlet. She brought her other arm up and smashed her elbow it with all her might onto his.

The armour cracked, as did the bones below. The Sentinel screamed. Tora threw up a shield. Its form shimmered for a few moments before solidifying. She pushed it towards the Sentinel, slamming him against the wall. His armour cracked further, spreading up to his shoulders.

"Goddamn balls!" She panted. A small puddle of blood grew at her feet. With her spare hand, she yanked out the embedded sword. A spurt of blood followed, spraying onto the cracked tiled floor. The sword clanged onto the ground. Tora groaned, clutching at the wound. As she dreaded, the bleeding wouldn't cease. "Balls. Balls."

She grunted, maintaining the forcefield against the Sentinel. He gasped, struggling for breath. The cracks on his armour spread across his chest. His eyes bulged, his face reddening. His mouth gaped like a goldfish out of water.

Tora continued to push. By the time she let go and he landed in a heap on the ground, he'd stopped breathing.

She landed on one knee, scowling. The wound should have stemmed – hell, it shouldn't have bled so much in the first place. And yet it continued to seep, as if something was purposefully keeping it open. Her breathing increased. Her head felt light.

A shadow loomed over her head.

She turned instinctively and rolled out of the way. A sledgehammer smashed onto the spot where she was moments before. She sprang like an unloaded spring, tackling him to the floor. He fumbled for another weapon. They landed in a pile of limbs and blood – mostly Tora's. He fingers grappled beneath the visor. He turned his head left and right, pushing her away with his one free hand. His other swiped at her with a dagger. She jerked her head away. She slipped her fingers beneath the helmet, found the eyeballs – and pressed.

His howls were music to her ears. He dropped the dagger.

She jumped up and almost blacked out. The world spun back into clarity. She kicked him, hard, in the ribs, and turned. Tora sighed, ignoring the throbbing pain at her ribs.

She leapt at the nearest Sentinel. Knocking the weapon out of his hands, she snatched his hands and gifted him with an uppercut right under the chin. His head snapped back. Cracked pieces of his helmet cut at her knuckles, sending pain tearing down her arm. His feet left the ground.

A deft hand grabbed his throat and threw him straight at the crowd surrounding Ross. Ross split another copy. The real her danced out of the way. The Sentinels collided, scattering like bowling pins.

"Jesus, Tora – is that your blood?"

Tora bent over, staring at the small swimming pool growing at her feet. The entire bottom half of her jeans were soaked black with blood.

"That sword – it's got stuff in it."

Ross brandished a needle-thin piercing sword in her right hand. It looked like it came straight out of some 16th century period drama.

"They all have, yeah." Ross held the blade up, lined between her eyes, before pointing it at the few struggling Sentinels. A few more copies materialised beside her, holding the same weapon. At her hip was a sheathed dagger. "But some of them came in useful."

She cast a sideways glance at Tora.

"You gonna live?"

"Probably not." Tora grinned, a rush of nostalgia washing over her. It was almost like old times. Initial underestimation of the enemy, her butt kicked, Ross to tell her off, and then to save the day with some fancy strategy. Her legs shook. She'd lost way too much blood.

She turned back into a Shifter, black leathery skin replacing her pink human ones. Her dark hair bleached to straw yellow. Her eyes turned from bright blue to liquid golden. Fear flitted across the Sentinels without visors over their faces. Their stances wilted. They must have recognised her appearance.

"Why not do this earlier, idiot?" said Ross, her eyes straight ahead. Tora cracked her neck left and right.

"It takes energy, Ross. Cimerus is better at this lark than me. I heal, but I can't keep shifting like this."

"Bloody demons," muttered Ross.

"Don't mind me. I'm done bleeding."

"You should go ahead."

Tora thought she'd misheard.

"Ex-squeeze me?"

"I can take on the rest. You go get the Artefact. We're running out of time." The Sentinels accumulated again, bloodlust in their eyes. "I'll open a path."

"Where?"

Ross gave her a withering look befitting of the ice queen and pointed. The initial 'ARE EXn' green poster now read 'FIRE EXIT' and beneath that was a doorway.

"Huh. Fire exits that lead down? They should fire the architects."

Ross sighed. "Your desire to emulate Carlos will make him proud."

With that, Ross accelerated to the Sentinels. Her copies followed close, their fake thin swords waving in the air. Ross lowered the tip of her sword. It scraped along Tora's blood puddle. She lifted it again and thrusted, straight and true, into the weak spot at the base of their throats. For a short moment, the blade bent slightly as if about to snap – just as Tora thought it would – but then slid straight through.

Blood trickled silently along the sword. Ross withdrew. The dead Sentinel collapsed. She dashed to the next one. One of her copies lunged at the next target, who reacted as if it were real. He swung. The staff passed straight through the illusion. He paused, confused.

The real Ross rammed her shoulder into his back. He stumbled forward, caught off-guard. She brandished her sword. Before the Sentinel could so much as lift his head, she thrusted its thin body between his shoulders. This time, the sword punctured his armour like a needle through fabric. The Sentinel screamed.

Ross's other copies led the rest away from the fake fire exit. Tora glanced at her lieutenant. The grim determination took her back to the good old days. She grinned.

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