A loud bang.

Run.

A sudden rise in the room temperature.

Get Out.

Ringing in ear.

Leave.

Heartbeat.

Dead.

No.

Sounds, a voice. Female, sweet, gentle. Angela.

He tries to speak and fails. Tries to teach over to her but fails. Tires to see but is met with darkness.

"You'll be fine! I pro-"

Silence.

xx

The scent that filled the room was distinct, it only existed here, or it should have. The smell of iodoform was gone, but how? That distinct smell of disinfectant was missing from the one place it should be and instead smelt of blood and smoke. The sound of people coughing came next, machines beeping and people. What happened?

You blew it up.

Blackness again.

xx

A bright light that could blind someone filled the room, there was nothing to be seen besides a shining white light, or at least for the few seconds because slowly a silhouette appeared, an angel? No, Angela.

"You're awake." The angelic voice said but there was no response, just a failed attempt of trying to communicate. "It's okay, you need to rest, I'm doing my best." This would reassure anyone, hearing a doctor of the likes of Angela Zeigler would be confident in the process that was taking place. Though those who knew what those words meant were terrified.

Sore throat but no sore body. Something wasn't right, there were no machines and no beeps, no wires and no nurses. What happened?

You blew it up.

Angela was all that was in sight, everything else seemed to be suspended in nothing. Limbo. Perhaps death had come and taken what belonged to it and Angela was fighting a losing battle. Perhaps this was the end.

"Are you all right? How are you feeling?" The sweet voice asked and her hand came to feel for a fever, but there was no touch. Angela's hand was right there but there was no feeling. "How… how are you doing that?" Were the words that followed her, she seemed confused and amazed – the way her eyes lit up when she was greeted with a new challenge but the way her brows furrowed with utter confusion, her lips were curled in a manner that no one probably ever saw; fear – what am I?

Hours seemed to have passed without being able to utter a word or feel another person's touch. The ringing was still there as well as the taste of dirt. "An-Angela…" An unrecognisable voice; it was his. "What... Where am I?"

Angela looked up from where she sat and walked over to the figure on the bed. Her movement were slow and almost scared. "Gabriel…" As the doctor stood over her patient she looked over the scars she was unable to patch up. There were still beaten bruises all over his chest and legs and arms, some darker than others and most large enough to occupy the whole surface area. "I am so sorry. There was nothing I could do to get you out of this state."

Angela crying was something Jack hated seeing. Jack. "What state? Where's Morrison?" His memory was jogged but the reason why was fully intact in the man's mind. Though the moment he sat up he realised something was clearly wrong, there was no weight to his body and now that he was coming back to his senses he noticed that the smell of smoke was still there, it was coming from him.

"What did you do to me?" Gabriel spoke out of visible anger and confusion. Looking over his body was all the man needed to know that things weren't normal. There was a paleness over his skin, one that resembled that of a corpse, not to mention that there was smoke rising from his body, vanishing in the air. It wasn't thick like those of the cigars he and Jesse smoked together, it was light and it faded quickly. Like a ghost. There's no such thing. Maybe not before.

Gabriel got up from the stretcher and looked around for something to look at himself properly, a mirror, something. Though his feet weren't on the ground, the layer of smoke, the lightness, it was his body, he was floating in the air. "Qué en cojones?" Spanish, his mother tongue, came out so fluidly that it scared him a little- Gabriel was never one to speak in his native language unless the opportunity called for it and this was certainly one of those that terrified him to the point he needed to speak Spanish.

"Gabriel… Jack is dead." Angela said, her voice pained. The ghosting figure came undone and he fell on the ground with a loud thud, his body was still weak from the shock. "He's dead and you're… I'm so sorry I couldn't save either of you." As the blond spoke her voice hiccupped, and her breath hitched; Gabriel needed to get out of there.

After searching the man found his clothes and a large hoodie, quickly he dressed himself despite the way his body protested. There was a mirror in the corner, half of it was missing and there was a part of him that thought Angela brought this here just so he could see what became of him, of his body. The mirror was stained, covering in layers of dust that seemed to have been collecting over the days, maybe weeks. He saw half his body and between the scratches and missing pieces he managed to see what his face looked like at the moment. Still him. But dead.

"You… You did this to me." Gabriel spat angrily as he punched the mirror, watching it shatter against his fist. Expecting blood, he got nothing but smoke and a new scar. The dead don't bleed. Not if they were like him. Stepping over the broken glass the man found his way out of the room, pulling the hood over his head and searching for a way out. Something that turned out to be much easier than he'd ever expect considering the commotion that was this place. Clearly it wasn't the med bay, instead it was a medical tent built here. But where was here?

Stepping away from the space he turned back and saw something that sent a chill down his spine. The headquarters was in ruins; dust had collected over it making it seem as if there was a giant angry cloud above the facility. Overwatch is dead. You killed it.

Mission Complete.