Lena followed the red haired woman as closely as possible without risking being seen. She'd been keeping up a light jog for the better half of an hour, straight through the woods. Oddly, there was some semblance of a beaten path. The stranger seemed to know exactly where she was going, too. Lena deduced that she must take this route often enough to know it. That would make her some sort of spy, perhaps. Despite the clearness of the trail, every now and then, a briar would snag her sock, leg, or the hem of her athletic shorts. Just a quick sting and nothing more. It would itch like hell, later.
A thin sheen of sweat shown on her brow, matting her short brown hair down to her forehead. Where could the woman possibly be headed? The annex base wasn't very big, but it was very secluded. The nearest town was little more than a stoplight and petrol station, and that was eighteen kilometers down the gently sloping hill that the base had been built upon. She could only be leaving. There was nothing out here…nothing at all.
Slowly but surely, they were approaching the southern perimeter, which was on the side of the base closest to the road. The woods began to thin, and the mystery woman slowed her pace. Lena could jog all day, but she was filled with innumerable emotions that were causing her to feel anxious, making it difficult to regulate her breathing. What if this woman was one of the people who had attempted to murder Ang, and killed all those other people during the raid? What if several more of them waiting ahead? What if Lena, at the young age of eighteen, was running to her death? And what then? How would anyone ever find her?
With those sobering thoughts, Lena stopped following the woman with any intent to intercept her. She fished a black, sturdy radio out of her utility pouch. It was the same phone shed used to call for someone to help Reyes, before she'd taken off after the suspicious woman. No one would be aware of her position unless she made them aware. Happily, she was still within range of the main radio tower. She made the call.
"This is pilot Lena Oxton, repeat, this is flight LT Oxton! I'm currently in pursuit of a suspicion person. Female, between twenty-five and thirty-five, roughly 160cm, red hair, heading towards the southern perimeter via the woods. It's also likely that she's involved with the assault on officer Reyes, send backup immediately!"
There was a brief pause, then a succinct, professional response.
"Copy that Oxton, we're dispatching a unit in your direction, maintain pursuit but try not to engage alone."
"Yeah, yeah, got it." She was breathing hard. Had she been talking too loud? It suddenly seemed very quiet, and still. Did she sound as winded as she felt? The adrenaline was surging through her veins with reckless abandon.
She closed her radio, and dialed down the volume, lest an incoming transmission be overheard and give away her position. Inching forward a step at a time, Lena made her way in the direction of the escaping suspect. A crashing sound off to her right got her full attention, so she never saw the ham-sized fist coming from her left.
The resounding crack of a mans closed fist against her temple didn't seem to be connected to her in any way. She was just happily resting on the ground, here in the woods. Why bother going anywhere? Oh hell. Oh, no.
There was a strange man standing over her had a sober look on his face. He was all business, punching a lone woman in the side of her head. Lena struggled for coherence. This was not good. She knew that any minute a cohort of marines was going to come bursting through the woods on her trail, but that wouldn't save her. She had to save herself. For those who had passed away, and for her dear friends who carried the burden of surviving.
She had two pistols, one in either hip. They emitted a pulse that was utterly devastating at close range. The man didn't seem concerned about her defending herself, though. She knew her eyebrow was split, but thankfully the blood was flowing down the side of her face instead of into her eyes. She'd be able to aim.
At the same time as the thuggish, heavyset man in black reared back with a booted foot to kick her, likely in the head for a finishing blow, Lena dislodged one of her pistols from the hip holster that was partially coved by her loose, white jogging shirt. The sound of the shot never reached her ears though. The man simply toppled over backwards. Lena looked sidelong at the hand she had been holding her pistol with. The gun had fallen from her hand, which trembled uncontrollably. She'd fired it. She'd killed him. But there was little choice in this situation. Kill, or be killed. Lena swallowed. She was going to be sick.
A moment later the bushes rustled ever so softly. Lena knew it wasn't the marines she was hoping to see. The red headed woman she'd been chasing stepped into view. Who could run that fast in heels? Lena saw that they were heeled boots, though. That made a little more sense, at least. Gosh, that wasn't important. Her head hurt, though. Red head's face contorted into a wry smile, as if she knew Lena's thoughts.
"My, my. What an interesting fly you are. Look what you've done to my associate." She barely glanced toward the man who'd recently toppled over with the smoking hole in his chest. He sputtered, still alive, though his life was pouring steadily out of him, all thanks to Lena's blaster. "Rando, darling, I'm afraid I can't take you back with me in this state. You'll never be able to keep up." The flagging man shook his head from side to side, muttering somewhat incoherently. Meanwhile, his compatriot stepped over to Lena, and stepped on her wrist without any fear that she'd be shot as well. Her booted heel ground Lena's wrist into the dusty, mud-brown earth. There were still snow patches here and there, but the last good thaw had melted almost everything. Lena's rear currently happened to be directly on top of one of those patches. If someone found her, it would definitely look like she peed. Best to just die then.
Meanwhile, Lena was frozen with fear. What about this woman was so intimidating? The woman neatly picked up the blaster from the ground, and within moments dispatched her already dying comrade. "Of course I was going to do that anyway, but not here. Now I probably can't come back." She frowned to herself before turning her attention back to Lena.
"Now, dear, you've seen me, so it's your turn." She turned the blaster and aimed it at Lena. Lena squeezed her eyes shut, waiting. She had acted on her own, and it had cost her. Jack was always telling her...warning her…not to get carried away and try to do everything. And fear…fear was a force to be reckoned with, as it now held her as firmly in place as any shackle. Jack was usually right. Her realization had come too little, too late, to do her any good though. The woman smiled down at her and squeezed the trigger.
For the second time in a few short months, Jack sat beside the hospital bed of the first friend he had ever had within the ranks of Overwatch. When they'd started out, Reyes had been his senior and mentor. That was before everything became…official. Reyes still held the same position as he did back then, but Jack had been promoted over him. And Gabriel seemed to hate him for it. At the time, his friend had encouraged him to take the position, and even seemed happy for him. Had it all been a lie? Jack sighed. He didn't have a head for phony bullshit, so he'd never know unless Reyes confessed to it. He leaned back in the flimsy plastic bedside chair to stare aimlessly at the ceiling. It creaked dangerously beneath his weight. He adjusted his center to compensate. Best to be careful, or he'd be a patient too. Of course, then he'd get to see Dr. Ziegler more often. If she even wanted to see him anymore. As time went on, he grew increasingly certain that that was no longer the case.
He'd been so busy after the base was assaulted. Hunting down and extinguishing every possible leak, traitor, and ne'er-do-well within the organization, all in secret, was a difficult task. Reyes had been invaluable, but his health had seemed to be flagging towards the end of the weeks-long mission to hunt the perps down. He always had headaches, and his temperament was downright awful. It was a mission that was unsanctioned, of course. If it ever came to light, there might be hell to pay. Working within the rules made it difficult to catch the ones who didn't have to obey them. Jack was willing to pay the price. For that matter, so were the rest of the members of his little clandestine group. Amari, Lindholm, Wilhelm, Reyes, and a handful of others had lent their time to the project. But it left little time for anything, or anyone else when combined with other official missions and work that had to be done on time as well.
He sighed again. There was nothing he could do. Given the choice between his personal life, and the safety and security of the entire human resistance force under his command, he had to choose the latter, because that included her. Really, the choice was made for him. It was unfortunate. He felt a cold hollow carved out within his middle, where something had started to grow, but been stunted, perhaps forever. Would Angela ever forgive him? He couldn't blame her if she did not. It would undoubtedly be safer for her if she was not connected to him, anyway. Just the thought of something bad happening to her because of her association with him pissed him off. Perhaps, then, being separated was their fate. When he thought of it that way, it was hard to argue with.
At that moment, the good Doctor swept into the room, her sneakers occasionally squeaking on the ultra-buff tiles, and her long white coat making a rhythmic swooshing sound. The sight of her made the generic room seem far more vivid. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, but several blonde wisps had escaped. She was radiant. Jack looked up at her expectantly.
"He's been poisoned," She stated matter-of-factly, walking over to the bed apparently unafraid, though Jack knew she was. She got very formal when she was nervous. "He has every physical marker, and his blood test came back positive for mercury poisoning. The question is how. As you might imagine, it could hardly be an accident." She leveled a very meaningful gaze at him. Doctors were very suspicious of the Soldier Enhancement program, but it didn't involve that kind of thing. Try convincing one of that, though.
Jack was taken aback. "So you mean, he's not just an unpleasant asshole of late, there's a medical explanation behind it for it?"
Angela nodded, unaffected by Jack's uncharacteristically harsh description of the man. Maybe she simply agreed. "To some extent, at least. We're going to take him out for procedures now. He'll need dialysis immediately, and then there's a medicinal regime. His symptoms should improve over time." All the while, she continued to eye her patient like a dangerous insect. Jack wondered if she even realized the terrifying extent of her present hawkishness.
The aforementioned support staff began to file into the room to retrieve Gabe. One disengaged the bed, while two others took the headboard and footboard. Behind all of them stood an armed guard. Jack noticed for the first time that they'd restrained him to the bed. They were taking his last visit into heavy consideration, then. Jack didn't bother to tell them the cuffs would never hold Gabriel if he wanted them off. The man with the gun likely already knew that. He nodded discreetly in Jack's direction, as if on cue. Good. Reyes was a powerful asset, one Jack didn't want to waste, but if he ever touched Angela again, Jack was going to kill him. There'd been little time in the aftermath of everything that had happened before to properly settle things, but Jack hadn't forgotten. Poison or not, he'd never forget what her neck had looked like after Reyes had laid hands on it. Feeling his blood pressure start to rise, Jack chewed the inside of his mouth and searched for a distraction.
The operations radio on his hip crackled to life. Two little lights on top flashed incoming and ongoing transmissions. That was unusual on his frequency, as there weren't any active missions. He couldn't quite make them out in the din of the room, so he picked it up and held it to his ear. It was the captain of the Marine's cohort and the front gate...searching for someone. A suspicious person had fled off into the woods, it seemed. And…Lena Oxton had pursued that suspect on her own.
Jack practically burst through the doorway exiting the room, startling everyone remaining inside it. Dr. Ziegler's eyes widened with questions, but as usual…he didn't have time. He hoped she'd understand when she heard the story, later. He gave her a brief look of apology, and saw the moment her expression became veiled, her eyes hooded…and his mouth twisted with the bitter taste of regret. He could never seem to do anything for her, even though he really, really wanted to.
He ran down the corridor and through the security doors. He ran out the front door and leap down the stairs. He didn't slow down until he was halfway across the base, where the search command had set up. His boots crunched on the half frozen earth, and his breath was visible in front of him. He exchanged a lazy salute with the captain.
"Tell me everything you know." Jack said. The Captain nodded and explained the situation. He was typical soldier, straight backed and attentive. It was impressive that he was on scene so quickly, to be honest. Jack looked towards the woods and listened patiently. Apparently, it'd only been a few minutes. Several shots had been reported. No one had been recovered yet. And…Wilhelm was approaching the scene. Jack felt a measure of relief. That was almost as good as going himself.
"Commander Morrison, any orders Sir?"
Jack grunted. It was painful to say, but he did. "Let the men do their jobs, Captain."