This went on for a good couple of hours, with very little rest coming to Pharah, who preferred to complete the mission as soon as possible, if only to ensure help would come soon as well for the injured. Every time she returned to secure another person, she remained hanging there, longer and longer, attempting to catch her breath, the only relief coming when she fell back to earth, and even then, hitting the ground required her mind to be strenuously alert.

Now that all the personnel who'd been subjected to the ground had been extracted, leaving only a handful of somewhat-able bodied men left, Pharah stumbled toward a wall, leaning on it until she felt sure enough to slide down to sit, her legs feeling like gelatin from the repeated descents.

Concerned, the man in charge, who'd she know knew to be named Alexios, watched her as he called for some refreshment, bringing over a small canister of water to offer to her, "[You've done plenty enough for us, ma'am, helping our wounded. The rest of us can-]"

Pharah shook her head as she heaved for oxygen, "[That's not where my objective ends, though I appreciate your generosity]."

Alexios sighed in resignation, shaking his head as well as he sat beside her, pulling out a small knapsack that even Pharah had noticed he refused to part with at any point in time. He pulled it onto his lap and began rummaging through it as if trying to find something.

"[When we took off, I was fifth down the chain. Now I am the chain]," he sighed, pulling out a handful of the shreds of paper, jewelry, and other tiny objects that came from the small bag, "[Pocket litter. I made sure to begin to collect it from those who died; perhaps it'll lead to some solace for their families. I'll look through it on some nights after the fighting stops and see ticket stubs from date nights, or an earring from somebody's beloved. Somewhere in here is a shriveled rose petal, but everything gets so lost, I don't usually…find it…again]."

He lifted his arm to his face to hide his welling tears, his other hand dumping the litter back into the small knapsack, beginning to close it back up, "[If you don't mind taking this along next, I- …it would be worth many lives recovered]."

Alexios slowly moved it toward Pharah, who took it from him, her downturned eyes slowly turning toward him, "[I'll make sure it gets back for you]."

He nodded appreciatively, wiping away his face again, "[Whatever happens, make sure I get out last. If anybody has to die still, it may as well be tradition, now, that it's me]."

Pharah sighed, annoyed at the level of pessimism she continued to encounter, her voice firing back with a low grumble, "[I told you already; we're getting everybody out of here. You included]."

Alexios chuckled lightly, "[Ever the idealist, eh. The tighter you cling to the idea that you can protect everybody, the harder blow you'll get when you finally realize that you cannot. I admire your spirit, rocket queen, but I know what I know. I only pray you have the wherewithal to-"

Suddenly interrupted, Alexios cringed at the high-pitched whining that came from Pharah's communication unit, causing her to shout out in pain as she hurriedly threw off her helmet. As the interference stopped, she reached for it again, holding it to her ear.

"Tracer?" she asked, but to no response, "Tracer?!"

She jumped to her feet, running out to the small roadway just outside that ran down the length of the cliffs, watching up into the sky as Alexios followed along. Just faintly, she could see Tracer proceeding along course, but with no coordination, it would be unimaginably difficult to extricate anybody at this point.

Pharah growled unhappily, turning to Alexios, "Who's next?"

The man fumbled through his pocket, finding the list he had chicken-scratched onto a charred magazine cover, "Uh…uh… Marinos!"

He ran off to find him as he shouted his name, Pharah still fiddling with her comm. unit, but to no avail. Even she knew that such systems do not fail, especially during missions, unless willed to, and that thought worried her, especially since she knew the local forces had no way to cut off Overwatch's systems, especially.

Finally, Alexios arrived, more so dragging Marinos along, allowing Pharah to grab a hold of him as she eyed the Splitstream's oncoming course, Marinos apprehensively making the sign of the cross as he shut his eyes tightly. Before Alexios could send him off, a loud burst of firepower went off like cannons, signaling the fact that the man was gone.

Pharah flew through the air, her eyes more focused than they had been, carefully watching the Splitstream's trajectory. Their lack of communication was evident; by the time the craft paused in mid-air, Pharah was a good arm's length away from the railing, just barely able to grasp on with a painful gasp at the amount of weight being help up by a single arm.

Tracer quickly shot out, kneeling and helping Marinos up before doing the same for Pharah, pulling her into the aircraft. Nearly falling head-first into the titanium plating beneath her, Pharah managed to sit down, clutching her arm as Tracer paced back and forth, worriedly.

"What happened to our communications?" Pharah asked, cringing.

Tracer shouted in a quick and terrified voice, "I don't know! I can't get back to HQ to ask! This wasn't supposed to happen, I…"

She covered her face as if to hide, but Pharah spoke up authoritatively, "Okay, well you're the senior officer here; what do we do?"

Tracer clutched at her hair stressfully, "I-I don't know!"

Quickly, Pharah grasped at her leg, which was all she could reach, trying to calm her with a softer voice, "Tracer, listen. We have two options. Continue the mission, or head back to HQ and regroup. If you go back, I'm staying; I'm not leaving them alone."

Tracer pulled her arms down, staring at Pharah, knowing that, at this point, she was responsible for her, "What?!"

Pharah grunted back, "I'm not leaving them. It this whole thing is a malicious thing, or a trap, I'm not leaving them to fight alone; they barely have more than a pitchfork for weaponry."

Tracer shivered in fear, but stammered along, "H-How many of them are left?"

"Three."

Calming down slightly now, Tracer took a breath, holding her hands together on top of her head to get more breaths in, "O-Okay. I'm not going to leave you without support. We'll play the cards we're dealt; we've been going along fast as it is."

She quickly turned to a nearby cabinet, pulling out a box, "Shoot these flares when you're nearing your apex and I'll try my best to sync up, got it?"

Pharah nodded, pulling the strap of the knapsack over her head to exchange with Tracer, "Keep that safe, okay?"

Tracer stared at it critiquingly, "What is it?"

"I'll tell you after the mission," Pharah assured her as she worked her way back up toward the door, giving a weak salute as she fell out of the craft, leaving Tracer with a disdainfully worrisome face as she made her way back to the front of the ship.

By the time Pharah made it back down, Alexios and the translator, Kostya, had already gone to fetch the third man down there, giving Pharah some relief at not being seen. She knelt there, staying until she fell forward, just braving herself with her hands as she stayed there as long as she could. Her legs felt like massive weights, ready to burst and break free from the tendons in her hips.

She returned to standing just as they returned, Kostya exasperatingly speaking up, as he had whenever he was near whenever she left, "Z'ank you!"

Pharah didn't reply as she took a hold of this last soldier, crouching down to prepare for liftoff, just barely launching herself off before collapsing onto the ground. She smiled into the atmosphere, eyeing the Splitstream screaming toward her. Whipping out the flare, she fired it, the aircraft stopping a lot closer than it had last time.

Pharah clutched onto the railings, unable to do anything but hang there. Once Tracer arrived, she managed to pull the soldier into the ship, leaving Pharah there, staring vacantly into the side of the ship. Her eyes narrowed with determination, feeling a ripple of ozone crawling up the back of her neck.

Suddenly, a blast of laser blew past her head, an loud pop of explosion bursting from her shoulder as her hand let go, leaving her dangling there with one hand, staring up at the charred spot on the ship, her eyes wide in shock.

"Pulse rifles reload in 3.753-"

She pulled her legs up, her feet forcefully pushing off against the fuselage, launching her downward as another shot of plasma burst past her, hitting the side of the ship. Tracer hurriedly shut the door, pacing side to side.

"Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmig-"

She spun around at the sudden crackle of the old radio system that sat in the back of the vessel. She ran toward it, hopping over the bodies that now lined the ship, warping around others, as she fell toward the desk, throwing the various papers and equipment off the table, finally stumbling across the microphone, grasping the earphone and holding it to her ear.

"…-cer….he-….."

Tracer could hear Angela's faint voice on the other end, nearly in a panic as it started coming in clearer and clearer, the doctor's voice finally breaking though enough to gain coherence, "Tracer? Are you the-"

"ANGELAITSNUTSTHEREARESHOTSFIREDBUTIWASNTBREIFEDONTHISBEINGAPOSSIBIL-"

"T-Trace-!"

"WEVEALMOSTGOTEVERYONEBUTHTECOMUNITSDOWNANDWECANTGETBACKTOWHEREWERE'"

"Tracer!"

Finally, the ear-piecing screeching of feedback droned through Tracer's headset, causing her to drop the headphone in shock, slowly returning it to her ear, cautiously, as Angela spoke calmly, "Okay, now then… I know Talon has at least one oper-"

"TALON?!" Tracer shrieked, surprised, as Angela groaned.

"Yes; it was their code that ruined the Splitstream's communication systems, probably so you couldn't report back for reinforcements. Well, here I am."

Tracer scrutinized the titanium wall in front of her, silently, before muttering back into the microphone, "Wait, what?"

"I'm here to help!" Angela replied, "You need to head back and get the virus quarantined; I'll be support until you get back."

Again, Tracer went silent, until her voice returned, seriously, "What does that mean?"

A curse was barely audible from under Angela's breath as she sighed, her voice going silent until, finally, it reemerged, "Uh… The cavalry's here…"

"YEAH!" Tracer shouted happily, bursting back toward the cockpit, the Splitstream warping through space as she began to blast off.

Angela groaned, carefully bringing her own craft dangerously close to the cliff walls so as to avoid being detected on radar. Her fingers clicked on and off the comm. unit, trying desperately to contact Pharah. Slowly, she pulled back on her controls, the ship just peeking over the clifftops, allowing her a small view of Ilios at this level, her eyes carefully scanning the landscape, though she couldn't see anything. Lowering her body to the side, she reached for the comm. unit without her eyes breaking concentration.