"What is the meaning of this?"
Ana looked up from her desk, her face impassive but her gaze fixed firmly on Angela. The girl was clearly furious, a file open on her holotab. She recognized it immediately.
"It's Torbjörn's latest design," Ana replied, laying her pen down. "I understand you two have been collaborating on methods for administering first aid in the field."
"It's a gun," Angela spat, slamming the holotab down on Ana's desk. "A gun!"
"I am aware of that," Ana replied, her tone cool.
"And who thought that a gun would be a good method for delivering biotic fluid?" Angela asked, incredulous.
"I asked Torbjörn to design it for my use."
"Your use?!" Angela replied, her eyes wide.
"Yes. I would like to take a more active role in supporting my men in our missions," Ana replied. "Is that so hard to believe?"
"I won't allow it," Angela said, her voice firm. "I cannot allow my biotic technology to be weaponized. When I joined Overwatch, I was very clear about that."
"Your research is not being weaponized," Ana soothed. "It's merely a delivery method, to improve my effectiveness in the field."
"It's as broad as it is long," Angela crossed her arms, at least some hint of her age showing through.
"And what about your suit? You've already designed a tool for improving your performance on the battlefield utilizing your technology. And what is a weapon but a tool?"
"That is not the same at all! My suit protects me. It enables me to do my job—without it, I'd die, and the mission would surely fail," Angela replied, somewhat surprised that she was even having such a conversation.
"It protects only you," Ana replied, her gaze narrowing. "Your tool is selfish. Should I fall, another agent could pick up my rifle and continue to protect our people. But your suit fits only you. Even your staff doesn't work without a connection to your suit. Yet you wish to lecture me about aesthetics."
"It's not aesthetics!" Angela cried out. "You're a sniper—you kill with these so-called 'tools'. And you want to take my research and put it inside of a tool whose only purpose is to produce death. Firing a bullet filled with biotic fluid is a perversion of what it means to be a healer!" Ana sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose.
"You lost your parents in the Omnic Crisis, yes?" she began, "Well, I lost my family, too. I watched my father get gunned down through my scope—and there was nothing, nothing I could do to save him. Omnics cared nothing for the rules of war, they didn't allow medics to attend to the wounded. They were gunned down trying to save my men—my family. I watched, Angela. I watched countless times, helpless as my men were killed, because my only tool was death. If I had this tool, I could have saved them. I could have saved so many more lives at Port Said, in San Diego, in Busan, on Route 66..."
"We know who is to blame for Route 66," Angela muttered.
"Would you care to repeat that, Doctor?" Ana spat, fire in her eyes as she rose from her seat, fist clenched. She waited for a beat to pass, to see if Angela would dare challenge a mother bear. "Your concerns have been noted," she continued, her tone sharp, "But the plans for the Biotic Rifle have already been submitted to Jack and Gabriel."
"Commander Reyes? Why?"
"Blackwatch needs medical technology more than any other division," Ana replied, "I'm sure you've noticed how often their casualties come into the medical wing. They have very few options in the field, and even your biotic pens often aren't enough. If we can someday equip all of our agents with a tool they already know how to use that can save one another's lives—"
"They're the most likely to misuse it!"
"If they can save one another's lives," she continued, speaking over Angela, "It can only improve Overwatch's effectiveness as a force. You're free to submit your dissent, but the Biotic Rifle will be built."
"Believe me, I will," Angela growled, snatching up her holotab and storming out of the office.