Ana asks you to wait. "I have to do some brain surgery with a soldering iron," she says.

Soon, she pushes back from her desk. Blocky, black chunks of metal and exposed wiring wreath a small cracked viewscreen.

Her voice is hushed, as if a child were sleeping. "There wasn't as much left as I had hoped—a fraction of a percent—but it's him."

She carefully lifts the frame. "He's light," she says in surprise. Then, louder: "You in there, Red?"

The screen flickers soft orange. Ana beams as she turns to you.

"Let Zavala know I'll bring Rasputin to the Tower. Whatever happens next, we'll face it together."

Rasputin's screen pulses weakly with blue tones, then holds strong: a rich, vibrant purple.