The assassin was tired. Tired of living, tired of killing, tired of being unable to atone for the things he had done. He could not afford to allow his mind to wander completely, but he couldn't help from slipping into another memory. Her seaweed wrapped body, lowering slowly into the sea, taking his heart with her – a small boy looking up at him with tears in his eyes – the taste of ocean and bile in his mouth. His reverie was halted abruptly by a shuddering noise and a rumbling in the cable he held – the elevator! His first instinct was to swing over to the side, avoiding the car and letting it pass by him, but something made him reconsider. The three commandos downstairs, heading to the same place he was, racing him towards Nassana. In a snap decision he decided to take a risk. Using lightning-fast reflexes, he unclipped the harness from around the cable, and pushed himself out from the wall, landing deftly on the top of the elevator car with knees bent to absorb both impact and sound. He crouched in place as he rose up several floors, then came to a halt.
He could hear several people entering the elevator, then the rumble of a deeply bass voice,
"D'you really think they'll be stupid enough to use the elevator?" It was a Krogan, one of the massive species of warriors, build like tanks and bred for war. His query was answered by a female voice,
"We have the stairs blocked off. The only other way up is through a maze of air ducts. They're either going to run into our forces at the north and south stairwells, or they'll run into us. Be ready." The assassin recognised the cockiness in the woman's voice; she was an Asari commando, one of an elite team of biotic specialists who trained in the use of the innate, telekinesis-like abilities that many species possessed. He himself had some of these talents, and they could be very useful in combat. The marine-led team on lower level was going to face some very difficult opponents if they chose the elevator. It was the logical choice, though, and the one he would have chosen had he not known his way through the ductwork. Going up staircases blockaded with guards would be foolish. The elevator only had so much space, and so could only hold so many opponents before it got to the point where there was no manoeuverability. If the trio downstairs was smart, and he had no doubt that they were, they would take the elevator, and he would be getting a free ride to one of the topmost floors. He resumed listening again when they came to a stop. Sure enough, the moment the doors slid open, there were shots being fired. He heard the distinctive whistle and explosion of a flashbang grenade, and a Krogan yelling "Charge!" followed by more gunfire. A Turian voice called out "One down!" The assassin wondered if it was the Krogan who had fallen. This marine-led trio was good. Krogan were excellent shock troopers, unafraid to charge at their enemy, and able to heal from wounds much quicker than other species, almost instantaneously at times. That this group was holding their own against a group that contained at least one Krogan, an Asari commando, and two others, judging by the sounds of things, was impressive. Even more impressive was the speed with which the rest of the elevator's ambush team was dispatched. Before he could even begin to wonder how each side was faring, the shooting stopped. He heard three pairs of feel walk onto the elevator, and a woman's voice saying,
"Now let's get up to that bridge."
The marines had won, and the race was back on.
It was actually exhilarating, being on top of an elevator as it hurtled upwards towards its destination. This was definitely faster than climbing. The high-speed car was made with the intention of preventing long wait times, so it did not take long before they were several floors from the top, and began to slow. He prepared himself to simultaneously open the emergency hatch and pull himself up out of the elevator's path, but found his preparations unnecessary. The team in the elevator had stopped one floor below the top, a smart move, as that floor was less likely to present the same resistance at the elevator doors as the top. It was a simple matter of climbing up one floor, and opening the hatch onto the roof. He stepped out from the hole and pushed the hatch closed again. The small maintenance room on the roof offered him a place to collect his thoughts and prepare himself before moving forward. The marine would be taking the bridge across. She would have to fight through the uppermost floor first, and then whatever guards were on the bridge itself. He, however, would have a head start on her, and the brunt of Nassana's forces would be distracted by the more obvious firefight on the bridge. There would probably be little to no resistance on the roof, and the top of the bridge covering, while windy, would not have the same defensive capabilities as the actual bridge underneath. He removed his sniper rifle from the holster on his back. The sub-machine gun might have made things easier should he encounter a larger force than expected on the rooftop, but the rifle was silenced, and he was going for stealth. If he was lucky, the security forces wouldn't know that he and the marine team weren't one entity, and they would focus their attention on the bridge itself.
He opened the door cautiously, peering out into the dim evening light. His eyes were excellently adapted to seeing in the dark, green irises and black sclera catching as much light as the evening could provide. There were three mercenaries on the roof that he could see. None of them were paying close attention to the door that he emerged from, so he slipped out noiselessly into the cool air. The guard closest to him was down before he could turn his head, a swift jerk breaking his neck. The other two turned to react. One was met with a sharp jab to the windpipe. The last of the three put up the most fight. The assassin grappled with her for a moment, but in the end he had the upper hand, and her neck was broken, just like the first. He now had the whole roof to himself, so he took the moment to set up his rifle to shoot, peering through the scope to the other roof. There were two guards there, both oblivious to his presence in the dim light on the other roof. He squeezed the trigger once, twice, and they were down. Killing was an art, and he was an artist.
It was easy to make his way along the bridge cover. The wind was powerful, gusts buffeting him with a force that might have put another in danger of falling, but he was not only agile; he was also strong. Keeping his centre of gravity low, he hurried across the open expanse, and vaulted lightly onto the roof of the other tower. There was no remaining resistance on this roof, and he was feeling more confident about reaching Nassana first. N7 operatives weren't the type to go blazing through a building and then sneak through the final floors. They would be fighting their way over the bridge soon enough. He, however, had just discovered a stroke of good luck.
The two guards he had dispatched from the opposite roof had left the stairwell door unlocked. He slipped inside and made his way noiselessly toward the air duct opening. This would lead to his final destination. He paused for a moment, blinking in surprise as he realized; he was not going to die tonight. What he had hoped would be his final mission, a way to avoid his fate, was going much differently than expected. The marine operatives had dispatched so many of Nassana's mercenaries that he would be facing very little opposition on his escape. It would be interesting to see the outcome of this race, and to meet his opponents. He pushed the thoughts aside for the moment, focusing on the task at hand. He could hear gun fire coming from the bridge. A smile played at the corner of his lips; he found himself looking forward to meeting these marine operatives, discovering their story. He doubted that they were here just for a corrupt businesswoman.