A/N: And another scenario bites the dust... More to come. Eventually. Probably...
Execution
The child slung over his left shoulder in a limp parody of a fireman's lift, Shepard moved cautiously out into the open strip of land at the edge of the compound and made for one of the few neglected areas that was rarely checked by patrolling cultists. One corner of the compound lay at the bank of a river that had carved a deep path through the forest before meeting its match in the concrete foundations of the base and leaving a sheer ten metre high cliff. As a result, this apparently impregnable point in the compound's defences had been neglected, the tall fence allowed to corrode and the concrete to become chipped and weathered.
Whilst it was indeed a difficult proposition to enter the compound via this section of the perimeter, it was also the easiest place to leave – or would be momentarily. The canopy of leaves and branches had paid no heed to the open space beneath them and had grown out across the river and over the compound, supported by limbs once thick and strong, now withered and rotten due to the obvious influence of a fungal parasite. Their mass, however, was more than sufficient to break the wire palisade at the join with one of the pillars that rose out of the foundations, when detached by a customised plasma round fired from Shepard's omnitool fabricator, leaving traces resembling those resultant from a lightning strike.
Gritting his teeth, Shepard wrenched the gap open wider, relying on the insulation in his armour to negate the effects of an essentially lethal electrical current, before preparing to force the evidence through the gap-
And pausing as an idea occurred to him that seemed to solve just about all of the remaining potential problems with his plan in one fell swoop. Carefully, he positioned the cadaver so that when released, it would fall partially through the gap and come into contact with the electrified fence, then removed himself from contact with it. Immediately, the smell of charring meat filled the air within the immediate vicinity, as the marks that indicated the true cause of the boy's death were wiped clean. A cold, triumphant glow settled in the assassin's abdomen before rapidly dissipating as he checked his chronometer and, under the cover of his tactical cloak, moved for the next safe zone.
It had been over a day since the storm dissipated, and Reiser's hopes that somewhere within the compound an assassin was plotting Cohen's demise had all but evaporated. This despair was what drove him to finally succumb to the pestering of the parents of a missing child and respond with action rather than platitudes, altering the clockwork patrols into search parties for the missing boy, before eventually going to notify his erstwhile partner of the situation. He didn't expect Cohen or his pet psychopath to act on the situation, though – the gesture was an empty, though compulsory, courtesy, just another ritual to be observed.
He knocked, and hesitantly entered the private chambers that Jack sometimes shared with the cult's illustrious leader, to find them in the midst of another sparring match. Inwardly, Hans was grateful that he had not arrived later. He did not want to see the, ah, climax of the pair's exertions, though it appeared to have been a fairly near-run thing. Cohen was a skilled martial artist and had successfully integrated his biotics into his fighting style, hauling opponents in close before shattering their skulls with a glowing blue fist, but Jack's sheer unadulterated power, even restrained for a sparring match, more than evened the odds. Whilst Cohen's attention was wholly occupied with negating the effects of a mass effect field forcing him backwards, Jack strode forward and doubled her opponent up with a strike to the diaphragm. His attention broken, the man's defences collapsed and he was flung up into the air before being slammed down onto his back, cerulean shackles around his wrists and ankles. Triumphant, Jack pounced, straddling her captive's waist-
"Ahem." Reiser cleared his throat loudly, deciding that matters had progressed quite enough for his liking. Judging by the venomous glare 'Subject Zero' sent his way, she disagreed, but Hans pointedly ignored her. "My lord prophet," for so did Cohen like to be addressed "I felt you should be informed that one of the children of your followers has been missing for quite some time."
"Who gives a shit?" Jack snorted, reluctantly letting her prisoner up.
"I have, however, taken steps to ensure that the matter is dealt with and those whose shift it is to patrol are also searching for the boy." Hans finished, taking care once again to pay his usurper no heed as he bowed, before turning to leave.
"Wait." Cohen's rough voice forestalled him, and he turned back, surprised. Jack seemed thrown off-balance, too. A level of human concern? Perhaps his old friend was not quite so far gone as Reiser had once believed... "How long has the boy been gone?"
"Slightly over twenty-four standard hours. His mother says that he frequently disappears, though rarely for longer than a half-day." He replied efficiently.
The sinuous tattoos that traced the Red Sand addict's shaven head contorted as his eyes narrowed, mouth pursed in contemplation. He moistened his lips, coming to a decision. "Pull the patrols back and form a secure perimeter around our location. I want the compound searched from here outwards, and anything that doesn't belong killed, butchered, and brought to me."
Reiser diffidently suppressed his disappointment, wryly wondering why he had failed to notice the feverish suspicion in the so-called prophet's bloodshot eyes. As he left to do his master's bidding, however, he came to a sudden halt, realising that in his paranoia, Cohen had come to a possible conclusion that Hans had dismissed. Torn for a moment, between obedience and playing for time, he quickly decided that it would be his body being split in two, not his mind, if he neglected his orders. Instead for the first time since he was a naive child, somewhat ironically, he prayed that his own mistakes had been too little to ruin the coup or, failing that, that the supposed owner of his allegiance had simply been wrong.
For Shepard's part, he would have had little sympathy for the traitor if he knew the reason for which dozens of cultists were deviating from their schedules to form an expanding barrier around his target. There was no way to penetrate the lines without being seen even with the cloaking device-the duration for which it was active was simply too short. Over and over he was forced to give ground or be discovered, refraining from creating further 'accidents' that would stretch the bounds of anyone's credulity. With no solution apparent and his patience ground down to a dangerous extent, he hefted his Karpov, pondering the point at which he could dismiss the primary objective and settle for slaughter. At which point, staring through the sidearm in his hand, a thought flitted into his head and he almost cursed himself for failing to consider it sooner.
Backing up further, the assassin sealed himself within a small storage closet, and hastily disassembled the Karpov and the cloaking module , before cannibalising his sidearm's heat sink into the latter device's cooling system, a few hasty calculations assuring him that the device would now function long enough for him to circumvent the cultists' defences. Footsteps outside prompted him to snatch up his kit and activate the tactical cloak, disappearing in a shimmer of air, before the door opened and the cultist outside was greeted by the sight of total normalcy. Thaddaeus swiftly moved out into the open the moment the other human allowed him to do so, and rushed silently back in the direction from whence he came.
The upgrade gave him exactly one-hundred and twenty-seven seconds of precious near-invisibility; keeping a mental clock in his head, Shepard used them to his greatest possible advantage, clearing the expanding lines of patrolling cultists and ducking into a vent with scant femtoseconds to spare before the cooldown of his cloaking unit could attract any attention. He manoeuvred quickly through the system, senses primed for any more indications of coming disaster. He found himself nearing Cohen's quarters, and simultaneously noting sounds, increasing in volume, that suggested that the man was not alone.
Once again, his stratagem was rendered inappropriate for the circumstances in which he found himself, yet Shepard was disinclined to wait and offer anything else the opportunity to interfere. On the other hand, the nature of the sounds suggested that both he and his company were unlikely to be particularly, ah, vigilant at this particular moment, which offered the opportunity for another wholly acceptable machination to take the place of the intended poisoning. It was a gamble, but a calculated one, and one that was vindicated the moment Thaddaeus stretched out to his full height within the hall of his quarry. The target was... engaged with one of his flock, a young woman who despite her slight stature was surprisingly dominant, in all likelihood thanks to the biotics that she was making obvious use of, and that made her one of those so valuable to the Alliance.
Shepard contemplated the sight with a detached gaze and found the scenario to be according to his requirements. Alas, it involved a certain level of sacrifice with respect to one of the Alliance's untouchables, but on a far smaller scale than any other; indeed, it could even preclude a level of internal violence before more stable minds prevailed. Both Cohen and his partner were almost entirely oblivious to their surroundings, the latter on top and unlikely to notice a fire fight in the background, let alone the asphyxiation of her revered prophet beneath her. Without an adequate alternative explanation for his death, no one would pay any heed to her protestations of innocence, and the assassin didn't intend to offer her one. His modified tactical cloak would cover Cohen's descent into unconsciousness, at which point a crushed trachea would conclude the operation for him whilst he took his leave.
With an unnoticed shimmer, the N7 disappeared and approached the couple that were his next pair of victims. So close to success and failure Thaddaeus hardly dared to breathe, in spite of his conscious certainty that he had chosen the optimum approach. A hand over the mouth as he blocked the airway prevented any call; a split second was all that was required to ensure the constriction would last before Shepard could disconnect the amp from the base of Cohen's skull and devote his attention to restraining the man he stood over, half his attention on the naked girl before him, watching for any sign that she might become aware that something was awry.
Cohen's attempted flailing, straining against the invisible assassin's hold on his limbs, grew steadily weaker, his eyes filled with frenzied confusion and disbelief as he found his life and his ambitions slipping away, their strength directly correlated with the oxygen content in his blood. Finally, he relaxed, and Shepard released him, replacing the amp before hastening to reach his exit point, aware of the seconds trickling away. A sleeper hold would have been a faster way to induce unconsciousness, but would have allowed the 'prophet' too much freedom of movement for the few seconds it would have to last, increasing the risk of discovery all the more given the man's biotics.
Even as he escaped, moving through the compound to where he left the boy, somewhat inevitably according to Murphy's Law, events came to a head before diverting onto a collision course with catastrophe. Climaxing, Jack suddenly realised just how inert Cohen was, scrambled for a pulse and found none.
"Shit..." She said to herself in shock and dawning horror as she noted the telltale bruising on his neck. "Oh, fuck..." She grabbed her clothes and made to leave, only to be met by Reiser, who had concluded that now that his old friend and his new pet were finished he ought to report the cultists' lack of findings. He took in the sight before him, his gaze meeting hers and filling with a multi-tiered realisation and elation that, regrettably, he simply wasn't quick enough to hide from the psychopath before him. He realised that, too, and went for the pistol at his waist-
"Bastard!" Subject Zero snarled, and hurled him backwards with her biotics, sending him smashing into the wall at the end of the corridor. To his credit, Hans had his barriers up before the moment of impact, buffering him and leaving him able to rise moments later, weapon aimed squarely at his attacker. She ignored the gesture, however, and simply ran at him headlong, letting her own barriers take shot after shot as she closed in. Fear began to invade Reiser's mind as the weapon in his hands overheated and he hesitated, before throwing a shockwave at the slender dreadnaught, which she casually waved aside, before taking flight, calling at the top of his lungs for aid. Her blood up, Jack gave no thought to alternatives before pursuing.
She wasn't able to catch him before Reiser caught the leading edge of the returning cultists and reported her murder of their leader. As a result, she suddenly found herself facing off against a dozen frenzied zealots rather than a single, panic stricken schemer. As was her usual approach, she let instinct take over and did what came naturally. The charging fanatics were met by a powerful warp that destroyed the weapons of those who had barriers and simply destroyed those who didn't, spraying the surroundings with shrapnel and bloody viscera, followed by hyper-accelerated rounds as the cultists outside of the warp's radius opened fire into thin air; Jack launched herself out of their line of fire, before yanking her nearest assailant of his feet and snatching his shotgun. Breathing heavily and grinning maniacally as the thrill of the slaughter rushed through her veins, she opened fire.
Behind him, as he negotiated the dense fauna and flora of the rainforest, Shepard detected numerous detonations that he attributed to small arms fire, then a series of larger explosions that prompted him to make for a vantage point, sniper rifle pulled from its position on his back. The carnage he observed was undeniably impressive; his second intended victim was indiscriminately tearing the compound and its occupants, her former comrades, to pieces; as a matter of fact the more concussive discharges were results of their entirely futile attempts to stop her. Quite impressed, yet also undeniably frustrated at the collapse of his scheme due to his underestimation of the girl's ability, he attempted to line up a shot before sighing in exasperation as his target arbitrarily changed direction and swept out of his sight.
The cult had two shuttles capable of FTL on its landing pad, in the process of being equipped with weapons. Still watching for a shot, Thaddaeus didn't have to wait for long before one of them, apparently filled with some of the zealots that actually had survival instincts, lurched up into the air, followed quickly by the other, and something else that had the assassin exhaling in a surprised hiss. A radiant blue figure launched itself after the second shuttle, using the relatively common charge technique to defy gravity's hold and cover the dozen metres between it and the fleeing craft. Standing on the slanted front, in full view of its terrified pilot, the girl who had proven such an awkward addition to his plot blasted the vehicles kinetic barriers until her shotgun overheated, then smashed the unyielding metal with a fist encased in energy. The toughened, space worthy alloy resisted the blow, but judging by the shuttle's failure to continue to retain any semblance of stability, the organic at its helm wasn't so resilient.
It was at that point the N7 concluded that it would be a mistake to send a hyper-accelerated shard of metal through the obstinate female's skull when there was even a remote possibility of bringing her to Hogan alive. Instead, he assessed the careening vessel's trajectory and, disregarding the hazardous wildlife around him, ran for its final destination; the compound from whence it came. Unfortunately, the girl remained true to form in her propensity for thwarting him, and performed yet another physics-defying traverse to the other shuttle, clinging to its side before forcing the manual release of its door and clambering inside. For several instants, the craft plummeted with its twin whilst Subject Zero slaughtered its previous owners, before righting itself and setting a course to leave the planet behind. Beneath, the other attempted to replicate the feat, but only succeeded in colliding with a building that, judging by the resultant detonation, contained the munitions, and possibly fuel supplies, of the now extinct cult.
Shepard flinched away from the searing heat of the blast, before actually throwing himself out of the path of the flying debris. Stepping cautiously to his feet, he surveyed the devastation that surrounded him, and eventually allowed himself a rueful chuckle. Hogan would be displeased with the outcome, he knew, but he wouldn't lose any sleep over a few incinerated fanatics. The walking extinction level event, however, would be occupying his thoughts for a while longer, he thought, as he gazed up at her shuttle, before turning to make his way back through the rainforest...