As per usual, Alliance intel was some two months stale. If there was, indeed, an ex-Cerberus operative in hiding deep within the Wards of the Citadel, they were very small and very quiet. With an exhale that seemed perhaps too grandiose for the occasion, Persephone Castaigne blinked into visible existence in a modest apartment, the latter itching with disuse.
Vigilance had been command’s buzzword ever since the attempted coup of the Citadel. Few significant casualties, but if not for the egregious Commander Shepard swooping in at the last minute to save the day, the war might’ve ended right then and there. It made the Commander look great, and C-Sec look like a bunch of children playing at being soldiers.
The amount of ridiculous security scans just to get from the Alliance garrison to the Presidium was absurd, and actively detrimental at that. It messed with the people trying to do their jobs, and promoted unease within the civilian population. The fact was, Cerberus simply didn’t have the manpower to try again. They excelled at subtle, unassuming takeovers that crumbled as swiftly as any significant resistance was encountered. Pro-Alliance propaganda had long since rallied around Eden Prime’s resistance movement. Couldn’t swing a space-hamster without being blasted by some sound byte about Profiles In Courage: Eden Prime.
Intelligence had been on a roll with Cerberus activities. A corrupt volus ambassador here, a sleeper agent within C-Sec there - and now, their plat de résistance: a Cerberus cell operating FROM the Citadel. If there was one thing Intel did better than blowing up rumors, however, it was sitting on their plush asses - leaving one Persephone Castaigne to do the difficult hacking and infiltration work. But now that she was here, it became clear that the
CERBERUS BASE dwelling had been unoccupied for some time. A moderate layer of TERRORIST EXTREMIST dust laminated the surfaces. She was careful not to rub a finger through it - it would be too obvious should a TRAITORIOUS BASTARD OF A person show up. A datapad, however, was more her speed. She grabbed it, establishing a wireless link before setting it back, waking her omni-tool’s hacking VI to scrub the encryption.
It took no more than the churnings of internal mechanisms from the door opposite for the lieutenant to instinctively duck and apply her Tactical Cloak, quietly praising herself for not disrupting anything. A week of surveillance without any comings and goings, and now, of all times, the subject appeared? Foul and fair luck, in equal measure. Perhaps not such a waste of time after all.