I don't own Overwatch.


7. A Bird, a Brit, and a Mech


Her eyes felt puffy, whether it was from the crying or the minuscule amount of sleep she got, Hana didn't know. She rolled onto her back, unfurling her spine like an old accordion before sinking back into the springy mattress. She scanned the bed with her hand, making angels in an attempt to find the phone she had thrown away last night. The darn thing was under the mattress itself. She turned it on.

5:45AM.

With a groan, she flung the device onto the carpet. It was early. Too early. She should be streaming right now, stomping on ego-filled teens who had more brawn than brains when it came to StarCraft. That always brought a smile to her face.

Hana licked her lips. They were parched, salty from dry tears, and a whole evening without fluid. The inside of her cheeks felt arid, moistureless. With a thirst in mind, she tumbled out of the bed and onto her feet. There had to be water somewhere. Even if they did expect Hana to just lay in bed, they couldn't seriously think that she could sleep in a totally foreign environment comfortably. Dusting herself off, Hana quickly realized she was wearing the same clothes since leaving Salesian Academy on the flight to Nepal.

Shit. Are they going to give me new clothes or what?

Trudging over to the door, she unlocked and opened it, finding herself squinting hard at the rays of the naked sunrise bleeding through the crystal window pane. Once her vision settled, she looked down the hall, her gaze resting on Angela who had a markedly spotted lab coat flowing from her slim frame. She was lifting what looked like a heavy cardboard box. When their eyes met, the blonde looked like she had a mini heart-attack. Almost dropping the box in her hands, she came to an abrupt stop.

"H-Hana! You're awake!" Angela said.

"No shit," Hana replied, using the back of her hands to rub the rheum out of her eyes. "What does someone have to do to get some water around here?"

"Oh, I'm sorry… I forgot to tell you you're free to use whatever facilities you need," Angela said, her arms giving in as she crouched to the floor, placing the box down with a clunk.

Peering over the top of it, Hana froze. A tint caught her eye. She recognized that hue of aluminum varnish anywhere. "Is that… Is that my—"

"Your computer?" Angela said with an exhale, standing and regaining her breath. She ran a hand through her frizzed hair, its golden fibers having been through some sort of gale. "A friend and I decided it would be nice to try and make your change of surroundings as seamless as possible. So we went back to Korea to get some of your things."

Hunkering down, Hana rubbed a hand against the slick surface of her computer's tower. It had been cleaned. Recently, too.

"Did you… did you clean this?" Hana asked.

"Yeah. It was a bit dusty so I had a go over at it. Compressed air. Nothing wet," Angela replied. She was visibly exhausted, having the complexion of someone that had jet lag twelve times over combined with running several marathons. "There's more boxes back at the helijet with some of your other stuff - mostly just clothes."

Clothes?

"Thank God. I'm surprised you haven't given me one of those prison jumpsuits yet." Hana clicked her tongue, looking up at Angela. "Wait a sec. How'd you get in my apartment?"

With a wry smile, Angela said, "When you've read a bunch of old crime fiction, you learn a thing or two about lock picking."

"So it looks like Goody Two-Shoes does get her hands dirty sometimes." A stray thought of Angela handling Hana's undergarments dug its way into her head.

"There wasn't any ill intent in mind, so I think it's justified," Angela said. Her body swayed slightly, almost as if she were about to topple over. She caught herself at the last moment on the window ledge. Hana felt something like concern… but quickly cut the feeling from her mind. "Oh, I almost forgot. I wasn't quite sure if you wanted this but I got it for you just in case…"

Angela reached inside her long coat, digging out a familiar silver photo frame.

It was the picture of Hana and her parents.

Angela held it out at arm's length, offering it to Hana to which she grabbed instantly. Hana continued to stare at Angela, unblinking, perplexed. It showed on her face when she quirked a brow. If it had been anyone else that had just given her the frame, she wasn't sure she could restrain herself from the rabid consequences. But it was Angela. She must've seen it sitting on Hana's desk and knew what had happened the last time she had touched it. Nevertheless, she had taken it, and brought it back.

Why is she being so nice to me?

Looking back to the photo, Hana thumbed the frame's corner, a wistful longing in her chest. "Thanks…" she muttered. It took every ounce of actin and myosin in her being to not clutch the thing to her sternum.

Smiling with both eyes and mouth, Angela said, "My pleasure."

There were two kinds of tired. The first being the type that just needed a good night's sleep to remedy, and the other one needing so much more. With her slumped posture, crinkled hair, and baggy eyes, Angela was most definitely the latter. It made Hana ask the question: Did the girl really stay up, fly back to Korea, break into her apartment, just to get her stuff? It seemed so out of place. What did Hana even do to deserve such kindness?

"Why are you doing this?" Hana asked.

"Doing what?" Angela replied. One could hear the fatigue in her voice.

Hana narrowed her eyes. "You know what I'm on about. I bet that old lady didn't even tell you to go get my stuff."

"You're right. Maybe I just want to make things a little easier for you, now that you're going to be part of the team and all. It's a big change, believe me, I know."

"That's another thing I don't get. How long did you say you've been working with these people?"

"About two years now. That was when I transferred to Salesian, remember? But I was always in contact with the other members, over video calls that is. That was until a couple months ago when I was finally able to meet them in person."

"Does that mean you've been looking for me for two whole freakin' years?"

"Pretty much."

Tucking her chin slightly, Hana couldn't help but feel a little hubris that someone would be willing to go to such lengths just to find D•Va. She had covered her tracks well. "What took you so long?" Hana asked.

"I didn't expect it to be you. Simple as that. We never even spoke until a week ago."

Hana swore she heard a tinge of disappointment in Angela's voice.

Grabbing the box by its underbelly, Angela carried the beige cardboard into Hana's 'bedroom'. Following closely behind, Hana gently placed her parent's photo frame on the desk.

"I'll go get the other boxes," Angela said, looking as if at any moment she could fall asleep.

"Uh… no," Hana said to which Angela raised an eyebrow. "Tell me where to go and I'll get them. You look tired as fuck - go to sleep."

She smirked. "Are you worried about my well-being?"

"No. I just don't want you messing with my stuff," Hana said in an undertone. Little did Angela know, Hana really did feel concern, mixed in with a little guilt.

Sighing, Angela stumbled out of the room and pointed down the corridor. Before she could utter any directions, however, there was sudden chiming in her lab pocket, a faint glow coming from the white fabric. Fishing out her phone, Angela smiled apologetically before answering the call.

"Winston? Yeah, I made it. You were right, it's heavier than it looks… What? Yes, she's awake." Pausing, Angela's eyes widened, staring into space. "They're here? We can't— It's much too early, isn't it? I don't care if Ana wants to, we shouldn't be making Hana—" Back and forth, Angela argued with the person called 'Winston'.

At the mention of her name, Hana's interest was piqued.

The phone conversation ended with Angela sighing, defeated. "Fine. We'll be right there." With a tap of her phone, disconnecting the call, Angela looked to Hana with those depleted eyes of hers. "Looks like sleep is going to have to wait." Walking a few steps down the hall, she gestured for Hana to follow. "We're going to meet up with some of the others. And… please don't freak out about Winston."

"Freak out? Why, is he ugly as heck?" Hana asked, shoving her hands into her pockets, following Angela. "I don't think I can freak out more than I already have."

Looking over her shoulder, Angela winked. "You'll see."


When Angela told Hana not to freak out, the latter simply assumed she just meant don't give off a bad first impression. So when the two walked through a high steel doorway and into the vast expanse of a hangar that must've been the size of a football field, Hana was overwhelmed to say the least. On the opposite side of the hangar was the open stretch of the Swiss Alps, melding into the metal of the Hangar's floor and walls. But that wasn't what caused Hana's jaw to drop open.

It was the gigantic gorilla wearing what looked like a freaking space suit. It stood on all fours under what Angela called the 'helijet' - a light gunmetal craft that had a pair of ducted fans as wings, rocket pods on its base, and guns protruding from its side doors. It looked right out of a Hollywood action set. The gorilla waved before knuckle-walking towards Angela and Hana.

It waved. It waved.

Hana had watched nature documentaries during her humanities classes and knew that all primates had some level of intelligence. Waving might not have been that difficult for the animal... but when it stood right in front of Hana with square glasses on the bridge of its nose, Hana forgot how to breathe.

It's got glasses.

...

What the actual fuck.

"Greetings," it said in a low gruff voice.

Startled, Hana jumped behind Angela, her blood curdling as she grabbed the girl by the shoulders. "It can talk!?" Hana exclaimed.

At the word 'it', the primate noticeably winced. "The name's Winston. I'm the chief scientist around here," he said, pushing his glasses up. "A pleasure to meet you." He nodded his head politely.

"It's got a name too!? What the hell did you feed this thing!?"

"Hana, please," Angela said, gently taking Hana's hands off her shoulders, squeezing them slightly in reassurance. "Winston's a person with intelligence, like you or me. In fact, he may be even smarter than me. He was genetically enhanced as part of the experiment on the Horizon Lunar Colony."

The Horizon Lunar Colony..?

A moon base, if Hana recalled correctly from her science class. There was a week where people had flooded the streets with tributes and patronage because of an event on the colony. Something about the scientists having all been murdered by experimental gorillas, taking the moon base for their own. One of them had escaped and managed to flee for refuge on Earth. The news said it was a scientist, nothing about it being one of the goddamn gorillas.

Silence gripped Hana's tongue as she peered over Angela's shoulder. Winston didn't look like a monkey that could break into a frenzy at any moment. In fact, the yellow eyes behind those glasses looked calm, tranquil even, so he couldn't have followed the other subjects and went on that blood-borne rampage. The wrinkles in the gorilla's almost-black skinned face told Hana he was old, but without being an expert on primates, she couldn't put an exact number on his age. Angela stepped aside, giving Hana full view of Winston.

"Uh… so you can talk?" Hana asked slowly, unable to take her eyes off the lowland silverback beast.

"Yes, very much so," Winston said matter-of-factly. "I'm also proficient in mathematical physics, complex linguistics, combinatorics, and - if the situation requires - am also well-versed in philosophy."

"Holy crap. An actual talking monkey."

"I'm not a monkey," Winston said, looking bored all of a sudden.

Hearing the sound of Angela giggle, Hana turned to see the girl with a hand covering her mouth, a bright smile behind it no doubt.

"What's so funny?" Hana asked.

"Oh, nothing. Everyone's reaction to Winston is different. I think yours has been the best so far."

Yeah, well, it's not every day you see a talking Harambe.

"Now that introductions are over..." Winston cleared his throat, bringing a fist to his mouth, "I think it's time we get to business."

There was the sudden sound of boots against the grated floor as a familiar voice spoke up from behind.

"Not yet."

Pirouetting on her feet, Hana saw it was the old lady, Ana, dressed in that light blue armor of hers. Beside her were two other women. The first had tanned bronze skin that reminded Hana of the old lady. Not only that, but she also had the same tattoo, under the opposite eye, just visible behind the shaded tint of her aviator teardrops. Her shoulders were broad, holding up a black calfskin jacket that enveloped a casual white tee. Dog tags hung from her neck, pointing down to the ripped denim of her jeans and a pair of stained umber boots. Her stance and robust figure exuded a certain kind of serenity. Was this the daughter Ana had mentioned?

The other girl just had a huge grin on her face.

When the trio stood before Hana, Angela, and Winston, the taller woman looked Hana up and down with a critical eye, scanning her skeleton.

"You're kidding me," she said, taking off her shades and placing them on the top of her head. Her accent was the same as the old lady's.

"Try to be kind, Fareeha," Ana said.

The woman called Fareeha harrumphed, seemingly dissatisfied with something. She twisted her mouth. "No," Fareeha said, shaking her head. Golden beads dangling from the woman's inky, shoulder-length hair swayed from side-to-side. "Mother, I refuse to believe you're letting her into our ranks."

"What's wrong?" Ana asked.

Fareeha motioned to Hana. "Just look at her! How would she help us in our struggle? She even doesn't look like she could break a twig."

At that, an anger bubbled inside Hana. "Oh yeah?" she said, lowering her eyebrows and curling her hands into fists. "How about we test that theory? I bet I can whoop your ass right here, right now." She felt Angela's hand grab her own as if to say 'that's not how you make a first impression'.

Baring her teeth, Fareeha took an aggravated step forward. "What'd you say to me?" she said with a grunt. Before she could take another step, the freckled woman held Fareeha back by grabbing the neck of her jacket.

"Hey, woah - calm down there, Big Bird!"

In a thick British inflection, the woman urged Fareeha to settle, letting go of the jacket. She blew at her hair - a spiky, chestnut mess - as she bounced up and down towards Hana. She was slightly shorter and looked dressed for an arctic expedition with the chocolate-shaded flight jacket she wore. There was also a soft cyan glow coming from the girl's chest, under the jacket's material. It was circular and had the same look like that superhero Hana had read about in one of those vintage comic books… Metal Man? Iron Hero? Something like that.

"This is D•Va we're talking to, Birdy! The world's best StarCraft player! Show a little respect will ya'?" the girl said. She held out an open hand towards Hana. "The name's Lena! Some of the others call me Tracer, but you can call me whatever you gosh darn like! Sorry about Hothead over there."

Fareeha exhaled through her nose.

Cautiously, Hana relaxed and slowly took Lena's hand in her own, lightly grasping it before the woman shook vigorously. She made a tiny squealing noise.

"I can't believe it! Sorry if I'm acting a bit weird... but you're actually the first celebrity I've ever met!" She didn't stop shaking as a flurry of words left her mouth. Finally letting go, the girl reached around her back, procuring a pen and paper seemingly out of thin air. "Say, could I get an autograph?"

"Uh…" Hana said, rubbing her hand against her pants, taking the pen and paper with a tilted head. She looked to Angela who was clearly amused, but not surprised.

You knew this was gonna happen…

"Lena, enough," Fareeha said. "You're acting more dim-witted than usual."

Turning, Lena placed her hands on her hips. "Hey. If you wanted an autograph, then you should've brought your own paper," she said, sticking her tongue out.

Unsure what the spiky-haired girl wanted, Hana simply wrote down in block letters 'D•VA'. No cursives or flourishes of any kind. She didn't have a signature for D•VA… since no one was supposed to know it was her, so the bare-boned moniker was the first thing she had thought of. Handing the pen and paper back, a broad smile graced Lena's lips as she examined the signature.

"Minimalist. I like it!" she said, folding the piece of paper and stuffing it into her back pocket.

Rolling her eyes, Fareeha pursed her lips. "Unbelievable. You don't even play that foolish game, Lena."

"So? Just because I don't play it doesn't mean I can't appreciate someone who's really good at it. Or better yet to say: the person who's the best in the world at it!"

It looked as if Fareeha was about to retort before Ana hissed for silence. "Quiet. Both of you," she said. Surprisingly, both girls shut their mouths, Fareeha looking away with an irritated expression, and Lena just shrunk down slightly. "Winston, how goes the demonstration A.I. on the mech?"

"It's currently running diagnostics in the field," Winston said, taking a gander at a touch screen in his hand, "but basic functions are fully operational."

It was tempting for Hana to just record Winston and upload him onto the web. Her instincts, however, told her it was best not to.

"Good," Ana said. She walked up beside Hana and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I think it's time we show the girl the new game she'll be playing."

Nodding once, Winston moved his forefingers over the touch screen in his opposite hand, tapping on it a multitude of times to cause a symphony of beeping noises.

A few moments later, there was a distant humming in the air. It came from the open end of the hangar. The sound grew, transforming from a bee-like buzz into the rumbling of a jet at take-off. Fareeha had lowered her aviators, and Lena had a passive grin with fingers in her ears as both of them looked out in the same direction towards the alpine. Following their gaze, Hana peered into the whiteness that was the Swiss Alps. She had to bring a hand up just to avoid the glare of the morning sun, and when she did, she saw something flying, maneuvering through the snow. It was shaped like a plane, but it had… legs? No. What kind of plane has legs? As the object drew closer, the booming racket became almost deafening. Hana followed Lena's example and jammed fingers into her ears, blocking out the sound as she squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that it would lessen the head-splitting noise. Her hair tussled behind her in waves, as if a storm had localized itself to the hangar's interior.

Then, the sound stopped. Slowly, Hana reopened her eyes, and what stood before all of them had her freeze, eyes wide.

A few feet away was a… machine. That was the only word Hana could think of to describe it. At least ten feet tall, it had an odd anthropomorphism to it where it stood on two hind legs, hinging at different points along its limbs. The slate-grey legs were attached to a cockpit-like body with two 'arms' protruding out both sides, each of them ending in three open barrels, dripping with melted snow. Fins distinguished the slick curves on the machine, starting from the tip of a green-tinged window cone all the way back to its rear where the robot's thrusters were located. They were still smoking from what Hana assumed was its flight into the hangar.

"What in the world is that?" Hana asked, raising a wary finger.

"This," Winston said, patting the arm of the machine, "is a Meka."

"Built by the Mobile Exo-force of the Korean Army," Ana interjected. She had a look of admiration on her face. "Designed when the Omnics first attacked regions in the Siberian District, it was first deployed as a drone, capable of holding its own against a hundred Omnics if you let it." She crossed her arms, looking displeased. "But, recently those killer robots have managed to adapt. They've figured out the Meka's evasive flight patterns, attack algorithms, and defense methods, so that now no matter what we do, they can reduce one of these into a pile of rubble if they had enough firepower, which they certainly do."

Looking at the Meka again, Hana was in awe. When people thought about Korean constructions, they would think about its cybercafés, national intranet, and the country being the progenitor of eSports. Not in a million years would Hana have included war-ready automatons on that list.

"So… what does it do exactly?" Hana asked.

With a hint of a smile, Ana looked to Lena. "Tracer. Up for a little demonstration?"

Jumping up and down, Lena clapped excitedly. "You betcha!" She slipped off that flight jacket of hers, revealing a glowing disc-shaped device strapped to the bottom part of her chest. It whirred and faded brighter and darker as she dashed over to the other side of the hangar, behind the Meka and away from the rest of the group. She gave a thumbs up. "Ready!"

"You there," Ana said to Hana. "Pay attention because we're only going to show this once."

Jeez, I didn't realize I was in a class.

"Winston. Run the demonstration," Ana said.

Nodding, the gorilla tapped the touch screen a couple more times. Next, the Meka hummed, life breathing into the machine. Gears and bolts murmured against one another as its legs began to move, taking large steps that clanged against the metal floor to turn around and face Lena. Hana couldn't have prepared for happened next. The boosters on the Meka's rear ignited, the smell of fuel traveled into her nostrils as the sound of the machine's thrusters built up to a climax that was less ear-splitting than its entrance. Squinting her eyes from the air blowing in the face, Hana watched the machine begin to hover, slowly but surely towards Lena, its humanlike legs a few inches off the ground.

Then, gunshots. It came from the ends of the Meka's arms, its tri-barrels rotated as Hana could spot viridescent muzzle flashes and hear cadenced cracking loud in the air, like thunder, but without the raw power. Flares flew up from the alloyed floor as a carpet of sparks rolled its way down across the hangar, spitting up fragments of silver and iron, straight towards Lena.

A muscle pulled in the space between Hana's heart and lung as she looked to Angela, concerned at Lena being right in the line of fire of the bipedal gunwalker. Angela, however, was quiet, still. Her eyes met Hana's and noticed the concern written across Hana's face such that she lifted her chin as if to say, 'Just watch'.

Looking back, Hana saw Lena, unperturbed by the gunfire headed her way. In fact, Hana dared say the girl was smiling. The sparks traveled closer. Two more seconds and the girl's body would be shredded into a fine pink mist by the Meka's armaments. Then, as if part of a magic trick, Lena disappeared with a zip.

No. Not disappear. A vague blue trail was left behind where she had been. Following it, Hana saw the girl some distance away on the other side of the hangar, having avoided the hail of bullets. She had… teleported!? The Meka readjusted, changing its trajectory path, gyrating on the spot as if to scan for its target which had somehow beamed themselves to the other side of the hangar. Lena let out a high-pitched laughter.

"What the fuck is going on!?" Hana blurted. She couldn't believe her own eyes.

"Hush, child," Ana said.

Doing as she was told just this once, Hana looked on.

Again, the Meka sliced through the air like scorching lead passing through butter. And when its shower of shelling came close to Lena again, the girl simply replicated her previous stunt. The dance between Lena and the machine continued, each one of the Meka's passes made Hana's heart skip a beat, fearing for the life of the other woman. Lena, on the other hand, just held a smile from ear-to-ear throughout the whole thing. Finally, the waltz came to an end when Lena reappeared beside Hana, the Meka having stopped its path-tracking on her, it's thrusters becoming docile as its weapons cooled down.

With a sharp breath in, Lena said, "That was more fun than I thought it would be."

"Demonstration isn't over yet," Ana said, walking behind Lena and snatching the pen out of her back pocket. With a flick, Ana launched the pen at the Meka. When it reached a few feet from impact, a brilliant beam of green shined from the tip of the machine's cockpit. It looked like a laser, and it had reduced the pen to ashes, the remains of it fluttering to the floor.

"Hey! That was mine!" Lena shouted, running over to pick up the pen's dusty remnants. It seeped through her fingertips as she frowned.

"So you see, child," Ana said, ignoring Lena's cry. "With its nimbleness, ordnance, and unique defense array, you Koreans have built a fine machine of war."

Swallowing hard, Hana found words difficult for her to form. She had just witnessed a killer robot, a teleporting Brit, and a talking monkey – one versed in philosophy at that.

"What does this have anything to do with me? Don't tell me I'm going to be the person polishing that thing when it comes back from blowing up nuts and bolts," Hana said.

Chuckling, Ana folded her hands behind her back. "No. When I said the Omnics had adapted to the Meka's abilities, I wasn't saying it for decor." She circled Hana, everyone else watching the two as Hana felt much too in the spotlight. "We couldn't just abandon the Meka project, because it's had a track record of being extremely effective. So we decided the mechs themselves could use pilots, someone to adapt to every situation and not need pre-programmed responses, someone to bypass Omnic wireless jamming frequencies and operate the Mekas from within. But the question remained. Who would be best at manning such a machine? Could you tell me, girl?"

"How the hell would I know? It's not like I would know anything about—" Hana's eye twitched. With all that had happened, with all the talk over Hana and how her 'abilities' were needed by these people, she could tell where this was going. "You're fucking kidding me."

"I do not joke, child," Ana said, pride gracing her features as she and Hana shared a mutual acknowledgement. "That pilot is you."


A/N: Finally, some action of sorts. I was a bit hesitant on this chapter, so please do tell me what you think! I appreciate all feedback from you lovely readers.

Also, expect an update every Sunday.