The Call 5.11
Steve exited the bathroom of the -kinda- motel room they rented yesterday. A very small and cramped single that barely qualified as a closet, much less a room. But it was cheap and off the beaten path. Plus later when the authorities tracked them down to it, it should be funny.
As the skit demanded, his dark suit was smart, just pressed but in a way that gave it a crisp yet casual air. Black tie knotted swinging with his movements over the unstained white of his shirt. Fedora on his head and raybans over his eyes. Likewise, Greg was seated at a makeshift table similarly dressed.
Approaching his friend, Steve couldn't help but feel the tenseness in the air was still prevalent. Similarly to how it always was right before they kicked off a job, and very different from when they used to do this kind of thing back in Brockton Bay. It might have been that it had been a long time since they ran a fun skit, but it was more likely the lack of time and difficulty of what they were going to do.
Also the likelihood of getting shot and killed was a thing too, Steve mused silently.
"So," Steve asked vaguely.
"Yeah," Greg agreed to the unspoken question without losing focus on the terminal in front of him.
"Well. Fuck."
Snorting, Greg didn't reply though his lips twitched in dark amusement.
Letting his friend work, Steve moved toward the window. Cigarette pack pulled from his suit as he tried again to mentally review their options. However, his thoughts kept drifting back to Greg.
Whatever he'd done to himself had resulted in a distinct lack of blackout. Not one since they left the Normandy together. That in itself wouldn't have been that eye catching, but Greg hadn't been idle with his power. He tinkered a few VI's on the shuttle and he did something with that terminal when they got here that let him have access to things Steve was pretty sure they weren't supposed to have access too.
No blackouts. Not one.
Steve should have been ecstatic for his friend. All the years he watched him struggle against his power. All the times he noticed Greg's depression after waking up realizing he was missing days and not being able to do much to help his best friend except lighten the mood.
When Greg first said he figured out a fix, Steve thought maybe he wired up a self shock system or something to keep him from falling deeper than Greg wanted, or something that would keep him from falling at all during inconvenient times. That would have been more than enough. But, that wasn't the case. Greg hadn't slipped once. Been normal this whole time, no slips into thought, no tinker fudge or even twitchiness. Hell, Greg wasn't even showing tinker obsession when using his power like other tinkers they knew of. Not even any weird muttering.
Steve was worried. That something was going to happen and take this away from Greg. In the last few days Greg had been at peace with himself in a way that Steve hadn't ever seen before. Confident in his power for the first time, ever. Acting more like the best friend he'd been before Tonic.
If this didn't last…
His worried thoughts were interrupted by Greg's curious drawl, "Man, these guys are everywhere."
"S'up?" Steve asked, moving behind his friend.
"I got access to the personnel records last night and sent them to Atlas to see if there was anything there we could use. Check it out," Greg said, pointing at the bit of data that caught his eye.
"You sure?"
"Atlas is."
"How did he figure it out? I'm not seeing anything here that connects up like that. This place isn't exactly the kind of hangout you'd expect those guys to work."
"Dunno," Greg answered. "But he's got direct access to the Brokers Network and all the other data crap we've been hoarding. He flagged the guy after I sent him the list."
Steve scoffed, "Cerberus. Man how'd these guys get spots in a turian shipyard anyways?"
"Probably the same way we did," Greg replied. "Corporate outsourcing for cheaper labor. Most of the stuff going on around here is grunt work. Way above important people's pay grade."
"Shit man," Uber snorted. "God bless the almighty dollar. Am I right?"
"Credit, but yeah man. That's a thing here just like it was back home," Greg said, shaking his head while eyeing the name and data Atlas had sent them.
Guy had been here a while. Several job changes as he worked his way through various assignments. The most interesting bit though, was Atlas's reports of several 'incidents' that had taken place around the shipyard.
Work orders to repair sensor coverage that had -for no reason anyone could figure out- suddenly stopped working. Misplaced materials that ended up labeled as 'shipping errors'. Little things that didn't seem like much, but Atlas had found links pointing to the guy as having either worked in those areas, or been in the area hours before the issues. Greg scrolled down, showing Steve several other names that had similar links to strange stuff. Not a lot and nothing that would stand out unless someone was really looking and knew where.
One of the biggest issues they had with this skit was how to do it without seriously hurting anyone. This wasn't like hitting a villain. Despite turian society being hardcore military based and their target being a military shipyard, they weren't the enemy. But, for those same reasons, hitting the place meant dealing with defenders who weren't going to play cops and robbers with them. Escalation was unavoidable, and that meant dead bodies unless they could find a work around. They needed to sow enough chaos and confusion that they could reach their target, steal it, and get away without anyone getting badly maimed, or killed on either side of the game.
Not an easy feat. Turians took their security as seriously as they seem to take everything else. Hardcore.
"Remember when we did the SHODAN skit?"
Blinking, Greg frowned. "I remember the name Brockton Gazette gave it. That whole thing wasn't our best moment. It got fucking weird after it went through your anime collection."
Steve slowly grinned.
"You're a sick bastard, dude."
"Look," Steve said. "I'm not saying a viral AI that would force them to go all the way, that would just be fucked up. But a limited viral VI that acted like that while chasing them around..."
For several long moments, Greg remained still. Eyes moving back and forth to thoughts only he could see until finally, he smiled.
"If you can't beat them with intelligence, baffle them with nonsense," Greg chuckled.
"Right?" Steve laughed. "Can you do it?"
"Dude, it's done," Greg scoffed. "If nothing else, it's a hell of a distraction and exactly what we need. But we're going to need a starting point that connects to everything for it to work. Not just the areas we're accessing. If that's going to be in play, it has to be everywhere within the shipyard. That isn't going to be easy, these guys have there shit together."
Still smiling, Steve reached over Greg's shoulder, finger resting on one of the problem names they'd been discussing a moment ago.
"Dude, the Space Nazi's have already done half the work," Steve said, smirking.
Greg's smirk matched his friend as he saw what he meant. "I hate Space Nazi's."
XxXGatecrashXxX
When the airlock opened, Paige instantly looked away from the terminal she commandeered in the CIC. By the time Liara walked through, Paige was already out of her seat and approaching.
"Anything," she asked desperately.
Looking somehow sympathetic and frustrated, Liara shook her head. "I'm sorry."
The tension in Paige's shoulders deflated as she slumped.
"I hate to ask," Liara hesitated. "But does Taylor have a predisposition to disappearing like this?"
"No, never," she answered before trailing off to the thought that suddenly overtook her.
"Paige?"
"There was one time," she replied lowly. "And nothing good came from it."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
Looking uncomfortable at the implication, Liara placed her hand on Paige's shoulder. "I have agents combing Illium for information. Looking for data on who she met with, the ship she boarded and where they went. My agents have never failed me in the past. We will find them."
"Thanks," Paige said, trying to let Liara's words encourage her before smiling weakly. "Shepard wanted to talk to you. He's in the planning room going over the heist details Sharee sent. When you hear something..."
"I will notify you immediately," Liara assured her. Giving Paige a last comforting rub to her shoulder, Liara walked away toward where Shepard waited.
Sighing, Paige half flopped back into the recently vacated chair. In front of her a picture hung in the air. Three people walking up a boarding ramp that led into a space ship. In front, an unfamiliar asari woman, half turned as if she was speaking to the two behind her. However, where the woman in front wasn't someone Paige recognized, she had no trouble recognizing those that followed her.
Dinah was being half carried. Face hidden by the last woman, Taylor. The picture clearly showed half of Taylor's face. More than enough for Paige to see the worry, anger, and frustration that etched it like the bugs stenciled into the arm that held Dinah.
Clearly, something had happened. Whatever the reason Dinah had for knocking out Chakwas, she was paying for it now. Worse, whatever that reason was somehow convinced Taylor to willingly get on a strange ship. Going so far as to even deactivate her omni tool. Going completely dark for the last few days.
"Atlas?"
The AI's avatar immediately appeared to the right of her console. "How may I be of assistance, Siren?"
"Please tell me you found something."
"I am sorry," Atlas responded in his multi toned voice. "I have combed through various data sources and have not found any information on the incident. Nor have I found any more detail on the ship Matriarch departed on other than it is an unregistered zara class cargo ship. No flags registered with any agency we have access to."
"I don't understand," she said. Blowing out a breath, Paige fully sank into the chair. "Are you sure Dinah didn't say or do anything after she left Med Bay?"
"No," Atlas replied. "As you are aware, Dr. Chakwas prefers Med Bay to be a closed system, as much as possible to ensure the privacy of her patients. I was unaware of Vates actions until Dr. Chakwas contacted me requesting her location. Vates left Med Bay and proceeded directly to the airlock without deviation where she departed the Normandy. I saw no reason to inquire nor interfere. At the time I was assisting Engineer Donnelly and Engineer Daniels contain power spikes due to incorrectly manufactured components that were installed in the Normandy's drivecore. The components were malfunctioning."
"Why would Dinah do this. Why now?"
Atlas didn't answer at first, his holographic avatar softly pulsing giving Paige the impression he was thinking.
"Perhaps the incident on Omega where Vates pushed herself to unconsciousness caused her power to reveal something time sensitive and critical. Vates has never displayed a predisposition for manipulation in past interactions."
"Yeah, I figured as much considering she bolted the second she woke up," Paige huffed. "But what could be so important that Dinah would attack Chakwas instead of tell her? Or, hell, me? I was on the ship. I would have helped."
Atlas didn't respond, not that Paige expected him to. The only person who knew why Dinah did what she had, was Dinah.
Sighing again, Paige closed the window getting up from the seat once more. "I need to make sure we have everything ready for the heist. Keep looking Atlas? Find them."
"I will continue my endeavors," Atlas replied immediately.
"I know you will," Paige said gratefully as she walked away. Thoughts worried as she tried to hold back the dark thoughts her fears were pushing.
'Oh, Taylor. I hope whatever this is, isn't what it looks like...'
XxXGatecrashXxX
Looking through the narrow hallway, Dinah watched the figures sitting in the pilot's and copilot's chairs. By the time she regained enough of her senses to force herself out of the infirmary bed to look for Taylor, it was already too late.
She intended to go with Taylor to the meeting. She needed to, had to. To make sure. But pushing her power as hard as she'd been doing for so long had took it's toll. Her incapacitation stealing away her shot. And now, now she didn't know if it had worked. If it had been worth it.
Taylor sat silently, hands dancing over the controls. Occasionally opening an extranet page, looking up something only to close it a few seconds later. A pattern repeated several times. Next to her, the asari woman likewise worked in complete silence. In tandem with Taylor in a way that was creepy in it's accuracy.
Taylor hadn't spoken to her. Hadn't visited her in the infirmary when they returned. Hadn't even checked on her once since they left the planet. Hadn't actually spoken at all since Dinah woke. Just sat there, helping the strange asari woman pilot the ship to who knew where.
Sighing, Dinah continued watching trying to ignore the gnawing pit in her stomach that was only partially influenced by her thoughts. Eventually wrapping her shaking arms around herself. Trying to keep her rebellious body from distracting her. Hopefully it would pass soon, but Dinah didn't put too much faith in it. They'd been steadily getting worse over the last month and whatever detox treatment they'd given her pretty much guaranteed it wasn't going to go away until she found something to take the edge off. Not likely for a while. Either Taylor or the asari woman had gotten rid of anything that would have helped.
For all her concentration, no answers came from her observation. Her power as unhelpful and silent as the duo in front of her. It was all she could do to repeat the same phrase over and over again.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry but it worked. It had to have worked…"
XxXGatecrashXxX
Leet's hands were a blur over the terminal keys as he fought with station security to keep them from getting a message off station or from getting organized. Part of his mind on the task, some on their situation. Most of it though was on friends who were probably waiting for them on Bekenstein.
Atlas had been light on details when he asked earlier. Saying that there was a situation involving Taylor but that Dinah was with her and it wasn't a critical issue. Shepard was going forward with the heist, so they had to get this thing done fast, get away clean, and burn hard to catch up. He'd give them details when they arrived.
Altas seemed more interested in the data from his upgrade. Leet was too, and was more relieved than he was willing to admit when Atlas said that everything was working better than projections estimated. He'd not just gotten rid of the blackouts, but also -for the first time ever- could honestly say he had full control of his power. He tinkered now because he wanted to, and that made everything worth it. Atlas even disabled the fail safe Leet installed saying that it was no longer needed.
Shaking off those thoughts, Leet returned his attention to the present. Taking in each of the ten screens floating around him.
Mechs were live everywhere. LOKI's stalked without the accustomed weapons the security droids were known for. Scattered around were various FENIS units barreling chaotically like a mosh pit of puppies that had been cooped up too long. But the one's that got the biggest reaction, came from the YMIR's thunderous steps as they slowly chased whomever was closest to them.
Dock workers ran panicked through cargo strewn bays. Engineers activated omni tools attempting to hack the rogue mechs to stop them. Their attempts never lasting more than a few seconds before the viral VI would return, once again sending the mech marching. Security and other personnel who found weapons were shooting despite the fact the mechs weren't returning fire.
Through it all, the mechs marched. Occasionally their shield emitters popped rendering them vulnerable to weapons fire. Whenever it happened, FENRIS mechs would rush in acting as distractions until the shields recharged. They'd lost a few so far, but there was still a hell of a lot of them in play. No matter what was going on, LOKI's and YMIR's never ceased in reciting the pre programed phrases that sowed as much chaos as their uncontrolled activation had.
These guys were going to be so pissed when the smoke cleared.
Staring at one screen that showed a LOKI slowly walking toward a dock worker it had trapped in a corner, Leet asked, "Dude, what does LOKI stand for?"
"Dunno man," Uber answered distractedly. "Why?"
"I looked it up once but couldn't find anything on the acronym. They're just called LOKI's. It's seriously bugging me. Why give something an acronym but not tell anyone what it stands for?"
"Right right. If it's bothering you that much, just make up something."
"Alright. Thoughts on LOKI then?"
"How about; Lightly Organized Killing Inorganics?"
"Good enough for me. It fits anyways," Leet nodded. The dock worker found his spine. Either that, or he realized the mech stalking him really wasn't trying that hard to keep him in that corner. Leet wasn't sure which as he watched the man pick up a pipe, hit the mech hard enough to send it stumbling sideways before he bolted. The staggered mech immediately turned around and followed. Moving faster than it had just moments ago.
But no where near as fast as that guy was running.
"Awesome," Uber returned. "I named the LOKI's, you get the dog mechs."
Finishing adjusting a program to keep the communication lockout in place, Leet allowed himself to take a moment to watch a couple of the aforementioned dog mechs. The pair of FENRIS mechs gamboled through a squad's attempt to bunker down. One leaped over the makeshift cover, knocking the turian down and sending his rifle clattering down the hall. The other took out the legs of an unarmed human. Preventing him from running for the dropped weapon. The mechs constantly moving while using their bulk like a spasmodic battering ram.
"How about; Frustratingly Energetic Neurotic Rampaging Illiterate Synthetics?"
Uber laughed loudly, almost deactivating the welding torch configuration of his omni tool. "Man, that fucking works. Those things are a menace. Seriously, you didn't even need to do much to get them to freak out. Half the programing was already there."
Chuckleing, Leet nodded agreeing with his friend before his attention was diverted to the heavy stomping on the level just below them. Making sure everything was still smooth on his end, he looked over the edge.
A YMIR slowly approached a salarian engineer as he frantically hammered away at his omni tool. Whatever he was trying to do didn't seem to work as the YMIR hissed steam through its joints while it lumbered forward unaffected.
"Come on. Don't be a bitch," the hulking construct of heavy armor plating and weapons barked. It's booming synthetic voice counterpointed by each heavy footstep shaking the deck plating. When it spoke again, it's synthetic voice somehow sounded in both monotone and disapproving. "The safe word is 'Skynet'."
"Skynet! Skynet! Skynet," the wide eyed alien screamed hysterically.
"I lied. There is no safeword," the YMIR immediately responded raising it's massive arm. The tri fingered hand rotated once before the mech lowered it. "Assume the position."
Screaming, the terrified man below ran out of sight for all he was worth. The YMIR stomping after, chastising the running figure saying, "Do not run, you know you want it."
"YMIR," Leet said to Uber. "Go."
"Dude," Uber scoffed. "Yon Murderous Intelligent Robots. All the way. Those things are crazier than your Doombas."
"Well, these are," Leet laughed. "I can't wait to see just how much of this gets on the news."
"Pffft," Uber noised. "Don't worry about that. I cut loose a drone that will upload the feed to the extranet of everything going on here. Except for us. They're going to have to work for that shit."
"Not to EO, right?"
"Of course not," Uber answered dismissively. "Man, I want people to see this shit, not to fuck us over. Had Atlas set up something random with a VI to shoot the vid to the networks after we hit the relay."
"Nice."
"I thought so. Also, I'm done," Uber stated, stepping back looking pleased with the extra tie downs he welded to support the grav grapple holding the Thanix cannon to the shuttle.
"Sweet," Leet said looking at the hacked command center he'd set up. "Good thing too. We're out of time."
All monitors showed that the locals had decided enough was enough. Armed and organized squads moved, raining mass accelerated rounds into mechs not bothering to defend themselves.
Setting his last trick to upload, Leet headed toward the shuttle, climbing in. Likewise, Uber joined him taking the pilot's seat.
The easy part was done. Leet never doubted they'd get this far. Thanks to the Cerberus infiltration that Atlas found, they had all they needed to override and take over the shipyards systems. From there it was laughably easy to fly in, grab a canon that was awaiting installation, and strap it to the shuttle while everyone was running in fear of getting fisted by perverted mechanized security turned sex bot.
Best of all, later when the turians had time to figure things out, the finger was going to be pointed right at Cerberus. Cuz, seriously. Fuck Space Nazi's.
No, it was the getaway that was always going to be the real issue. He knew despite the communication blackout, that these guys knew something was going on and all it would take to figure some of it out was to look. Also because of the blackout they weren't going to just let an unregistered shuttle stroll out of here with a Thanix cannon strapped to it.
Which put all the rest of this on Uber and his flying skills. Leet doubted the ships waiting for them were going to let him play with their systems as easily as he had on the station. Even stacking the odds in their favor with everything he'd done so far, it was going to be a near thing.
Obviously not sharing his thoughts, Uber was relaxed in the seat next to him, hands dancing over the interface. After a moment, he leaned back. Seemingly taking in the moment before they pulled their last stunt.
"It's a fuck ton of light years to Bekenstein, we got a big ass cannon strapped to the roof of a stolen shuttle, half the turian military waiting to shoot us, it's void black, and we're wearing shades," Uber stated.
"Hit it."
XxXGatecrashXxX
"This is the best idea, ever. Of all time," Shepard deadpanned. Hands easily sliding aside the holographic window in front of him letting him pull another to the front.
"You'll be fine," Rockford's voice encouraged him.
"Do I look like a vid star?"
"Well, if you were, then this party would definitely go differently than we want it to."
Letting his eyes drift from the screen in front of him, Shepard looked to the one showing Rockford's image. In the background, he could see Marino sitting in a chair watching a vid screen that was displaying something that had the man laughing harder than Shepard had seen another laugh. The toddler in his lap laughing along with him, though it seemed more for joining in then for any understanding of whatever it was on the screen.
Rockford's face took up most of the screen. Her time here had obviously been sent in the sun, something that Shepard thought worked for the woman. She was smiling wryly at her own comment, though he noticed it didn't reach her eyes. Obviously worried about her teammate but unwilling to let it interfere with the mission. Something he could appreciate, though it was slightly shocking to see that kind of steel in someone that more closely resembled a civilian than a soldier.
This was the first time he'd interacted with her on this level, much less worked with her. Unlike Hebert, Baker, Richardson, and Marino, Rockford wasn't a combat specialist. That didn't even include the fact she was the mother of the youngest member of the Normandy. But that didn't stop her from obviously knowing her stuff, and having spine to run mission command flawlessly.
Returning his eyes to the page hovering in front of him, he took in the mission details she'd uploaded to him via the omni tool he was given specifically for this mission. Around him the well maintained vista of the planet Bekenstein passed unnoticed as his aircar flew along.
"Why Solomun Gunn," he asked.
"It's classy," Rockford replied immediately.
Taking his eyes off the page, he turned to stare silently at the woman.
"Also, we've already established that cover," Rockford chuckled at his look. "It's the male flipside to a cover Matriarch uses. Uber used to use it before we came here. You know, when we needed to do something that wasn't supposed to include explosions and gunfire. It didn't take much to get that out on the extranet to sell it. Between Liara and Atlas, your covers impregnable."
"Well, at least you gave me a military background," Shepard sighed.
"References, actions, connections and links in data that can't be confirmed as well as articles in 'Badass Weekly'," Rockford amusingly informed him. "That last part was Liara's contribution, just so you know."
"Of course it was," Shepard sighed, wondering when they turned his old friend against him.
"Besides, Donovan Hock likes his mercenaries," Rockford continued. "Especially those mercenaries who don't care about who's paying as long as the credit's clear, are willing to get dirty to get the job done, and have a high success rate. He's always on the look out for the next up and comer. He practically jumped on the information we made available to one of his agents to invite you."
Making a noncommittal noise, Shepard continued committing those details to memory. Past jobs, key events and most importantly, the names associated with everything.
"I'll be listening and watching with my power," Rockford assured. "It won't be the same as having Matriarch in play, but the lag shouldn't be that bad. I'll be here should anything go sideways or you forget anything. You're wearing the ear pieces, right?"
"Yes." Shepard answered.
Next to him, Mcabee shifted in her seat. Another issue he had with this mission. Like Rockford, Mcabee wasn't a fighter, but here she was. Willingly walking into something that wasn't just dangerous beyond her ability to handle, but had a high likelihood of going very bad at the first slip from any of them.
Even worse than the fact he wasn't wearing armor since they were supposed to be attending a dinner party, she wasn't either. Instead, she wore a dress that left a lot of her legs exposed along with a plunging neckline that dipped to her navel. It was a the kind of dress he'd expect to see at a high society gala, not a rogues gallery.
"And what happens when 'Allison' isn't as advertised?" Shepard asked.
Mcabee answered. "I might not be able to beat people to death with their own livers, but I've been a villain long enough to fake it. More than long enough to do my part, anyway."
"That doesn't explain the inconsistency. He's expecting a pair of mercenary captains."
"And instead he's getting a mercenary captain and his arm candy," Mcabee returned unconcerned.
"Lawson could have pulled off the part. More importantly she has combat training and she's a biotic."
"True, but can you actually imagine Miranda trying to play the part without breaking someone's spine when they grabbed her ass? Besides, she can't master Hock," Mcabee argued easily. "I can play the part of an obedient airhead pet better than Miranda can. That's going to make more sense to a dirty bastard like Hock than a woman who stands as a man's equal and makes sure they know it. He'll probably assume the details were just incomplete due to how secret we are. You do run a black-op merc company known for working without leaving any evidence."
"You that certain?"
"I'm certain that we know better what kinds of people these are than you do," Mcabee answered surely. Her voice carrying a slightly dark edge. "You might have killed more villains than we have, but we've dealt with more on a personal level. Just how our old line of work was at times. I'll be fine. All you have to do is get me a couple of minutes alone with Hock. I'll do the rest."
"And what happens if this does go sideways and the shooting starts?" Shepard tried to argue half-heartedly.
"Then I'll just have to jump behind my convenient meat shield, husband," Mcabee laughed teasingly. "Don't worry though. If everything goes to plan there shouldn't be any shooting. Not once I get Hock to send his people away. By the time they get back, we'll hopefully own the place."
"If the mission is that easy, why are we playing this game?" Shepard groused. "More importantly, why am I doing this? There had to be someone else in the crew better suited to this kind of thing."
"We need someone who can play the part of an unstoppable ruthless mercenary captain," Mcabee answered. "Who else on the crew knows enough about the gritty details of this reality, looks and can convincingly play the part?"
"Also just in case because of the non-humans Hock keeps for security," Rockford continued after Mcabee finished. "Siren's power won't work on them and we don't know for sure what they're going to do after she master's Hock. For all we know, he's got contingencies in place against him acting weird. He's paranoid enough and from what my power's observed he's expecting something to happen today."
"He is? What?"
"I don't know, but something," the woman on the vid screen answered. "He didn't explain to his captains. Just told them to be vigilant and to keep everything locked down hard while the party's going on. He seems to think whoever it is has their eyes on his vault."
"That sounds like sending them away is going to throw up flags," Shepard noted.
"Yeah, that's the catch," Rockford agreed. "But without Matriarch in play, we have to run with Plan B to deal with whoever has Hock concerned. If they show up sowing confusion, it's going to complicate our own objectives."
Sighing, Shepard nodded, changing pages again. This time for the layout of Hock's house. His eyes moved taking in the fortifications, walls, and rooms. In addition, under the house was what looked like an entire munitions manufacturing plant. Something that interested him greatly, and was half the reason why he agreed to this madness.
Disruptor Torpedoes and Javelins weren't the kind of thing you could just pick up at your local arms dealer. The kinds of people who would sell them, were also just as likely to use them on you instead. Also, if Rockford's intel was accurate, Hock had a couple of GARDIAN turrets in there. Cerberus had only installed two on the Normandy, and those were forward facing with limited fields of fire. For full coverage, they needed at least another two.
However, that was also half the problem. Hock wasn't stupid. He had a small army here, was already expecting trouble, and had the home field advantage. Even the location was remote, sitting high on a hill that gave the estate clean lines of sight for miles. A single ring of guard houses lining the outer edges of his property complete with AA turrets.
It wasn't a house, it was a God damn military base.
He was supposed to infiltrate the house with nothing more than the two of Hebert's team mates. Neither of which had any military experience. One wasn't even going to be there but instead would be acting as field command while her magic power gathered intel. The other, who was more fashion diva than infiltrator, would be going with him where she would use her own brand of magic to temporarily indoctrinate their target. All the while, a third party was going to be in play, and none of that accounted for the fact that the dirtiest who's who of the day was going to be in attendance. And all he had was this nice suit, a pistol, and his biotics.
Best idea, ever. Of all time.