"This is a waste of my time."

The Assassin did not feel embarrassment, yet she could not explain why she felt the need to curb her great height by slipping into a unnecessary battle-ready crouch. The ceiling was high enough to accompany her, but if she was to stand tall then her audience would be at her chest. Her eyes lingered on each piece of unknown equipment in this strange room – curiosity mixed with a need to simply understand and learn make for a particularly volatile mix. Stage lights and cameras, as well as technicians and much wiring snaking across the floor. A photo-shoot, of a kind.

"On the contrary," a man spoke, with blue-tinted glasses and data scrolling in a never-ending loop within the left lens. She knew him to be the Speaker; the (not so) human face to the alien logos of ADVENT. A figure of humanity's own for them to identify with, to associate. Humans are far from being elevated to a higher status if they must require such a person, the Assassin believes " – The world is ready to know that the Elders, blessed they be, have granted us with another of Their Chosen. Your face – your existence – ushers in a sense of peace for humanity. They will see and revere you as a child of the Gods, as it should be!"

"Having my face on display to every monitor capable of supporting your propaganda defeats the purpose of being an assassin. I am not supposed to be known to the mortal world."

"An assassin? No, no," he soothes, akin to one addressing a young child and Jax-Mon isn't sure either to cut his tongue first or sever his head. She does neither. "You are not regarded as such a thing. You are a protector, a peacekeeper. They will see you as a guardian angel, forever watching over their lives as you do away with the reckless, sacrilegious terrorists. They will liken you to a Saint."

"Your brothers have already partook in this," Hecate informs the Assassin quietly. It seemed like part of the job as her XO was to follow the Chosen everywhere she went that did not involve a mission. Naturally, the Priest would never complain, but she had not been out of the stronghold since she was ordered to wait there and it was difficult not to have her trepidation show. This wasn't routine for her.

That got Jax-Mon's attention. " – They have? Show me."

The Speaker gestures to the large preview screen mounted on the centre, to which the recorded broadcast loads. He hides his surprise well as the Assassin hisses at the sight of her brethren on screen, staring back down at them impassively with the Elders' likeness behind them, as if presenting Their children to the world.

To the Assassin, she found this false. She was the favoured child. She was Their perfection. The Elders would never be proud of the two brothers; after all, why would she have been made if They were happy? Better question, where did They find the time to have this photo taken in the first place?

Seeing the confusion on the Assassin's face, the Speaker deterred her attention away; "Ingenious, isn't it? The Elders have granted us a single image of Their likeness, so that we may create these masterful pieces. All we need is one picture and you will be free to leave."

"Doctored," demurred Jax-Mon. That soothes her. Of course. She hands Hecate her shotgun and katana before moving into the shoot, slipping down to a full resting squat, making it easier to be in frame. The lights dimmed, enshrouding the room with a soft glow illuminated from the dimmed monitors and the pinks of her psi-infused eyes. The room brightens when the image is captured and she can see herself in place of her brothers, backed by the praise of the Elders.

Jax-Mon drifts back towards Hecate, accepting her returned weaponry. "What do you think?"

"It is not my place to think, Chosen." she says. "Only to serve."

" – My XO should have the capacity to think, and quickly. To form.. suggestions, that I may deliberate over, or commentary for me to respond to." That wasn't quite what XO, the man's, job had him do. She delved a little deeper into those thoughts, though no name other than Central arose. An important enough figure that it stayed relevant within the transfer of the Commander's battle strategies. Perhaps she should research further into it, once her eternal task of cleaning away the traitorous scum has ended.

"In that case," the Priest simpers, "They have indubitably got your best side."

The Assassin smirks.


Breathe in … Breathe out …

She is a lotus flower. Her body is aligned with the Earth; her chakras open. With every inhale, life flows into her and upon every exhale, she purges the unclean within. Her mind slips into a state of tranquil bliss; transported beyond the confines of thought. She watches, like a third person in her own mindscape, the battles of first invasion and the simulations the Elders tested this Commander with. They were competent, but not perfection. Why would the Elders adore someone so inherently flawed – so unpredictable?

So.. human?

She sees the tactical blunders. She sees the fake soldiers die – and the echoes of grief and pained determination this human connected to their vast network felt. The simulated funerals of soldiers that existed in their memory. Yet still, they were considered integral. Necessary. Faultless.

If she was to reach what They aspired her to be, she must study these humans further. She must learn and grow. She was not perfection, but instead: wet clay. She will shape herself better and understand. There was no other way – humans were so.. malleable. It became as no shock to her now why They were so interested; so in love.

Breathe in … Breathe out …

Jax-Mon hangs in the air with delicate balance; a tightrope walker crossing without a pole to support. Her focus was absolute and her senses keen. The home away from home, as Hecate called it, was an adequate description to this inner chamber of hers. A place of security for her to be lulled by her masters' powers and let herself be rejuvenated –

Her lips twitch imperceptibly as she hears the mechanisms click and hum gently within the Darklance's laser targeting system. She was brought back to the ground with her mind snapping back to the present of the Hunter lining up a shot to take at her. Her eyes open to pin him with a glare, only to find herself staring down at the end of the muzzle.

" – Did I break your concentration?" he asks innocently, tone all but mocking in it's fake, friendly cadence. "You left the door open. Tut, tut, baby sister. Who knows what sort of monster could walk in and.. hurt you."

Her legs unfurl from under her and she slapped his weapon down so it was no longer pointing at her heart – and more importantly, away from her sarcophagus. "I promised all who enter here a swift death. That will include you if you do not leave, brother." she spits the word and forsakes proper address seeing as he was so intent on calling her a child.

"You're worried that I will destroy your coffin." he guesses. Jax-Mon's lips peeled back in a snarl, which more than confirms it for him that he was correct in such an assumption. " – I would never do such a thing! I'm hurt, truly, that you'd think I'd intentionally kill my lil' sis. I mean, what sort of brother would I be if I did that? Not a very good one, that's for sure."

"If you will not leave by choice, then I will make you!"

She shot out to tackle him to the ground and they both crashed to the floor in a tangle of struggling limbs and bared, fanged teeth. The Hunter, always one step ahead, predicted her intent before she had it in the first place, placing the sole of his boot on her stomach and using her momentum against her, tossing her behind him. Like a cat, her spine bends and twists her body to land on her feet, skidding a few inches away.

The Assassin diverts her sprint to the side, narrowly avoiding the bolt of his Darkclaw only by the fact she heard it power up, rather than a failure of the Hunter's aim. He seemed quite alive – enjoying the skirmish a lot more than he should. A challenge, after all, has presented itself and he was missing. Him. Missing!

She goes for a sweeping strike with her short sword – forced to instead parry a shot before it pierced through her neck. Keeping herself low and agile, she tries to find the most opportune moment to strike. The Hunter changes his plan of attack, instead flipping sides and propelling himself forward – and behind her with his grapple. Flanking shot!

He shoots before she has time to right herself to parry and the kinetic bolt lodges itself into her dominant arm. She cries out in pain, swapping her weapon hands and flourishing the blade to barely deflect another round. Calling upon her psionics, she melts into the wind.

The Hunter stalls. No movement. No sound. No Assassin.

He stalks closer towards the centre of the chamber; alert eyes sweeping every corner, trying to trace her signature. "Oh, my dear little sister, I pull cowardly dimensional rats like you out of the darkest corners of this world – there is no place you can hide from me."

Which is why she escaped his sight by hiding nearly on top of him, mimicking his movements like a perfect shadow, masking her energy signature from sight by sneaking it under his own overpowering one. Or so she thought.

Just as Jax-Mon was about to reach for the Darkclaw, he twisted around and pistol-whipped her across the face. The adornments on the butt of the handgun slashed, leaving twin lacerations across her mouth and upper lip. Staggering back, she had little time to recover as the Hunter's boot swiftly kicked her in the gut and forced her down to the ground.

"Bang." he flippantly jeered, letting the muzzle rest on her forehead. "You're dead."

He was given a hard glare for his troubles. His foot slips off her chest plate and his free hand extends. She takes it and he helps her to her feet. The Hunter waves his pistol like one might wag a finger as he tuts; "Good try. But not good enough. Try not being so predictable, you may have a chance of actually winning, then."

"So, this was a test?" she doubts his intent and rightly so. "You disrupted my peace, my sanctity, to test me?"

"You never know when the enemy might strike." He grins, slipping his gun back into it's holster. "They are hardly going to announce their presence like I had done. With a little more awareness, you could've stopped me at the foot of the gate rather than at the steps of your sarcophagus."

"You should not have been allowed entry in the first place."

Dhag-Mai straightens. " – Ah, yes. The Priest. She put up an admirable defense, but in the end she was in my way. So I took care of it."

"You killed her?!"

"I tried to. But, like all Priests, she can put herself in stasis when inflicted with a life-threatening hit. Luckily for me, that means I do not have to endure another lecture from my brother or the Elders about the Priest's importance. You've got a smart soldier in her." He pauses, tilting his head. "Maybe I'll poach her for my stronghold. Could always use someone with half a brain."

Jax-Mon hisses and shoved his shoulder. He throws up his hands in a placating gesture before they slackened by his sides. He understands that he was no longer welcome and more than done enough to sour her mood and ruin her meditation session. Which made that, all in all, a good day for him.


"I'm sorry."

"It is not your fault." the Assassin winces as the Priest continues to dab away the splatter of blood left by the Hunter's strike. She had since regenerated, thanks to Hecate's skill in restoration, but still her orange blood stained her skin. She fared better than the XO, in any case, whose white armour around her heart was scorched black by the Darklance's bolt. "I should not have underestimated my brother. A single Priest cannot stop a Chosen."

"I failed your directive. I await whatever punishment that you deem necessary."

An agitated sigh left Jax-Mon, but not entirely because of her. She sprung to her feet, before rising steadily. The Priest remained prostrate on her knees, head and heavy, restrictive helmet bowed.

"We must study." Jax-Mon declares. "You will learn what you can of my brother beyond that of what I was activated with and I shall train to become better. We cannot let ourselves be outsmarted – outplayed by these wretched fools."

The Assassin gently nudges her hand underneath the Priest's chin and lifts up her dipped head. "No more of that. I am not my elder and I seek no such respect unless it is deserved. Your punishment shall be to keep that in mind."

Hecate's lips twitch, but she does not smile. It bleeds into her soft-spoken tone instead. "As you will, Chosen."


It seems she was not the only one who did not take to these faithless abominations kindly.

Shrouded in shadows, embraced by loving dark, the Assassin watched patiently as the mask-clad male sifts through the snow laden ground. He moved as if he too, was born of void. But she can see the light; the warmth with every thud of heartbeat that rang so soundly in her ears. Fingerless gloves of cotton let his digits be nipped by the frost, biting his skin red. Why wear such worn and degrading armour in extreme conditions...?

It strengthens him, she thinks with a realization. He hones his body, conditions it to do better by exposing himself to the elements. I will incorporate this into my training.

She follows like a cloud, her footsteps too light to make even a touching imprint on the five inch snow. The male stops as the hill steepens down and she spots what he can see; a trio of freed ADVENT in fur lined armour, talking among themselves. One bears a tattered cape of his once high rank. Even Officers are able to defy Them.. ? The situation was more dire than she was lead to believe. She must do more research. Clearly, this was more than a mere few lambs straying from the flock.

The masked man lowers to lay on the frozen ground underneath the layers of snow. From down below, only the pinpoint tip of the rifle poked out the cover of white and high-ground. Shivering hands reach for a claymore on his belt, pressing it active with his thumb and tossing it. The mine sticks to the back of the traitor's cape, the owner unaware.

The rifle pops near silent; though the accompanying explosion was deafening. Jax-Mon clutched at her head, sucking in a sharp breath as white noise screamed in her all too sensitive ear-drums.

Three stood, now three dead, with only fire, scorched remains and a felled tree.

" – Final to Outrider. Pod one reaped." He spoke quietly into some hidden two-way radio, standing up and dusting off the snow from his plated armour. Jax-Mon calculated this to be a mistake. Consequence seemed to agree with her assumption, for a grapnel shot forth from the smoking fire and pierced into the man's leg. He let out a scream as the hooks pinned into the flesh of his groin and he was dragged from his perch into the Hells below.

She soundlessly jumped from the steep hill to get a better look.

Another like the officer stood in his fur-lined power armour, but this time, he wore a helmet. Full covering, unlike those that ADVENT typically issue. She could not spot any hazardous or harmful substances that would require a full mask. Clearly rogue. A weapon she known only as a 'ripjack' was pierced upwards through the masked man's chin. Two bare-headed troopers flank this mysterious captain and once the body stopped it's spasmodic throes of death, he kicked the corpse off his weapon and wiped the blades clean.

Efficiently executed. A shame she will have to kill them all.

As she approaches – she pauses as the captain's companion speaks. "Captain, our orders were clear."

The captain grunts. "Three of our brethren lay dead before you, sister. Four yesterday. Six, the day before. They are actively hunting us. This is the only language these – these Reapers speak. They act like they cannot tell the difference between us and our imprisoned siblings."

"Death will only beget death if you do not temper your fury, brother." the trooper insisted. "Betos did not accept you just so you can repeat the mistakes of your imprisonment."

He snarls, spitting a curse in their shared language, but ultimately does not comment. Instead, he straightens. "We must leave and warn Gamma. Outrider will not strike if we merge our squads. I am starting to pick up on her patterns. Come."

By the time the Captain realized only one of his two troopers were following, it was too late. He looked behind him to find only the grisly scene. No sight nor sound of his sibling. For once, he felt a primal fear for something he is not entirely certain of and prays he does not ever find out.


Jax-Mon learned that indeed, it was more than just a few stray dogs that needed to be put down. An entire faction full of impious traitors that required her judgement. Lead by one they see as a war hero. Betos. The ADVENT Network still has archived files on such a name, where only her rank and higher may access them. She was the first of the freed. Far before the Assassin's time – before Jax-Mon was barely a blueprint in Their design.

She calls her band of godless scum the Skirmishers. They were at war with the Reapers, as when they were ADVENT, they slaughtered thousands. Through the trooper she extracted information from, she learns that the captain's name was Pratal Mox. Another file under lock and key within the Network.

The Assassin delved deeper. What were your patrol's intention?

… The patrol was split into three groups, callsigned Alpha, Beta, Gamma. She was of group Alpha. The team that the Reaper blew up were Beta. Not what she asked for. She probed harder, pouring more psionic energy into the mind meld. … Four hundred yards away from the ADVENT facility. They were going to.. going to..

Jax-Mon shirked as feedback snapped across her mind as the trooper died, unable to survive the intense pressure of the Chosen's power. The Assassin bemoaned, cradling her own head as the power gifted to her by Gods burnt her thoughts. Keeping her arms close to herself, she curls up, riding out the waves of the searing pain, staring despondently ahead until she recovered, thanks to her body's unnatural speed of healing. She must temper her psionic strength.

She must learn.


A/N: So.. lore changes. That's probably highly apparent. It's stated in the lore documents that the Assassin was created to deal with the threat of Betos and the Skirmishers the moment she broke free of their control. Betos herself even remarks that her earliest, independent memory was the Assassin in hot pursuit. But for the purposes of this story, the Skirmishers have already been established as a faction and the Assassin's purpose wasn't entirely just to hunt them down. It'll be revealed why I think the Elders wanted to create a Chosen rather than ascend a human like they've done with the brothers.

The only thing that's important to keep in mind is that, well, the Elders already had an assassin in a way. The Hunter. For the context of this story, it was actually his task to hunt the Skirmishers, or any creature that defied the Elders' rule, but.. well, the Elders' patience is legendary, but not limitless.