"Prodigy, this is Houston. We're seeing movement near your sector. Do not engage. I repeat, do not engage! Bandit, Shadow, I'm sending you their coordinates. Your objective is to get Spectacles and any remaining civilians out of the building. Do not engage with the new arrivals. Avoid conflict as much as you can." Winston's voice was underlaid with a hastily covered up panic, a sound that made your skin crawl with unease.
"Houston, this is Bandit, we copy. Do you have a visual description?"
"No. Good luck."
You shivered, casting a wary glance around you. "Gibs, do you know how to shoot a gun?" you asked quietly, reaching down to pull the handgun from its holster at your waist.
"Uhm, I mean, I'm pretty good at the zombie game at the arcade?" he offered, giving you a nervous smile as you handed him the gun. "So, in theory, yes?"
"It's easy, you flip the safety here, then you hold it up, aim it as best you can, and pull the trigger. Just try not to shoot me," you said, offering him a weak smile in return as you gripped your pulse rifle. You were glad Jack insisted on arming you with at least two guns before sending you in here. "Stick close to me, we've got some trouble hanging around. Don't worry, I'm going to get you out of here safety."
The corridors between classrooms were too quiet, some littered with the passed out bodies of the Arachnid gang members you'd run into on the way here. It had been a tough fight, especially when you had separated from Jesse and Genji, letting them hurry off to deal with the other civilians you had found. Turns out Gibson wasn't the only one Arachnid had eyes on.
Beads of cold sweat dripped down the back of your neck as you focused, listening intently to the still air around you, even when it only echoed your own footsteps back to you. Wait, were those your footsteps? One-two, one-two, yeah, those were yours, and the other pair that repeated the rhythm back mere nanoseconds after belonged to Gibson. Where were you? A glance to the right revealed a plaque that read "Classroom 4-C". Eastern wing of the building. Your mind traced through the route you would have to take to get back to the north entrance, back to Jesse, back to safety.
A soft howl broke the silence of the building, too animalistic to be human, but too human to be anything but.
Another howl responded, this time from the opposite end of the building.
They were surrounding you.
"Hey, Gibs," you whispered, fingers wrapping tightly around the handle of your gun. "Now would be a good time to learn how to use a firearm, yeah?"
You heard him gulp. "I-I-I suppose so. D-d-d-do you have a target in mind?" he asked, and you could practically hear him trembling. Gibson was not made for combat, that much was clear. That just meant you would have to fight harder to keep him safe.
A pair of glowing amber eyes rounded the corner, locking onto you. The body they belonged to was hunched, stalking on two human-like legs. Clawed hands grasped at the air, twitching as the creature raised its head. Its face was strange, stretched to mimic that of a wolf's, but the muzzle was far too broad, blending forehead and the bridge of the nose. A deep snarl wrenched itself from the depths of its furred throat, a tail trashed against the wall, knocking over a long-abandoned trash can, and it sniffed the air.
Your breath hitched in your throat and you tensed in fear. "Yeah, Gibs, I think I do," you breathed, taking a step back.
The creature threw its head back and let out a long, triumphant howl, before it dropped to all fours and began a mad dash towards you. The fading sunlight glinted off its coating of silver fur as it barrelled past the windows, reflecting off its large, bared fangs that dripped with saliva. Whatever this thing was, it had no intention of letting either of you out of here alive.
A couple gun shots behind you made you jump and ripped your attention away from the quickly approaching beast as you glanced back to see what had caused them. Gibson was trembling, shakily trying to get a few shots off another incoming creature which looked too similar to the one who was bearing down on you now. There was a third on its tail.
'Fuck, it's a pack,' you thought, gritting your teeth and turning back to face the wolf beast, just a second too late.
With a roar, it tackled you, growling and snarling as it went for your throat, saliva dripping from its mouth and onto your face as you just barely managed to hold it back. Your gun was pressed against its chest, pushing it as far away from you as you could manage. The beast was heavy, its body weight pressing you into the ground, and from this close you could see scar tissue lining the muzzle and patches of bare skin that looked far too human. Somewhere deep in the growling, you could hear the undertone of a voice.
Its back claws dug into your legs, tearing into the fabric of your pants and ripping up the skin beneath, a clawed hand managed to reach around and do the same to your arm, and you cried out, desperately trying not to lose your grip on the gun. In terms of brute strength, you were terribly outmatched. If you couldn't figure out a way to get out from beneath this thing within the next few seconds, you might be doomed.
Gibson cried out, letting off a volley of shots before he was tackled to the ground, his gun skittering across the floor out of his reach. You saw the glint of teeth, heard the vicious snarl, and waited to hear your friend choke on his own blood, but the sound never came. Instead, there was a sharp burst of barks, and then calm.
The beast above you, while not pulling away, stopped actively trying to rip your throat open. It glared down at you, breathing heavily. There was nothing but pure animalistic rage behind those amber eyes.
You gave an experimental push with your gun, but the beast did not budge, like it had turned to stone. 'Fuck!' "Houston, this is Prodigy! Requesting backup immediately! I repeat, request-" Your cry for help was cut short as the beast raised a clawed hand and brought it down on your cheek, tearing a wound from your cheekbone down to your ear as it sought the com nestled in it. The earpiece fell out and was promptly smashed beneath the creature's fist. Blood dripped down your jaw, soaking into your hair.
"Now, now, we can't have that, can we?" a rough, feminine voice asked. "Norrix, if you could please dispose of her weapon."
The beast growled in response, yanking the weapon out of your hands and throwing it behind him. There was nothing between you now, you were completely at his mercy. Or so he thought.
Screwing your courage to the sticking place, you tucked your chin in and threw your head forward, smashing the crown of your head against its nose. As it yelped and drew back, you jammed your hand into its throat, brought your knee up into its stomach, and managed to turn yourself, quickly crawling out from underneath it. The moment you were up on your feet, you were slammed face- first into the wall, a clawed hand on your throat.
"Well, I'll be, the little bee still has some fight in her. You're far from your wasp days though, aren't you?" the woman asked, laughing into your ear. Her breath was hot against your neck and reeked of rotting meat. "Now, let's face each other like real women, shall we?" She wrapped a strong hand around your wounded arm and whipped you around, making sure to keep her hand wrapped around your throat and slammed your back against the wall. A feral grin split her face at your cry of pain.
She was a wolf beast as well, though quite prettier and more human looking than the others. High cheekbones and striking golden colouring gave her the look of some sick fae being, especially paired with the blood that stained her muzzle. She stood at least a foot taller than you, her body long and lean, a light dusting of fur covering all the places that should have been bare, human skin. There was an intelligence in her amber eyes, and a deep seated bloodlust.
Behind her, you could see Gibson pinned to the floor by two of the beasts, one who currently had his neck held between his jaws, ready to bite down at a moment's notice. The other beast was watching closely, waiting for the moment it could leap in for a killing blow as well. Gibson was white as a sheet.
"Let him go, he's done nothing wrong," you croaked, wincing as the she-beast's claws wrapped tighter around your throat.
She hummed softly, inspecting your face. "Norrix did a number on you, didn't he pretty bee? And, look, he even gave you some stripes, how sweet."
You grit your teeth. "Don't fucking ignore me. I'm not a toy for you to play with."
She tossed her head back and laughed. "There she is, that vicious little wasp that I used to know and love so well. What happened to us, darling?" Her eyes glinted with mirth. "What happened to you? Mummy dearest has been missing you."
"I don't know what you're talking about. Let him go," you repeated, unable to tear your gaze from Gibson's. You would be damned if you let him die here.
"No. No, I don't think I will. See, he's carrying some valuable information that Mummy doesn't want getting out, especially to those Overwatch pests. And, oh the secrets he could share," she mused, leaning a little closer and lightly dragging a claw up the bottom of your chin. A thin line of blood dripped down your neck from the new wound. There was a flash deep in those amber eyes and she pinned her body against yours, claws digging into your side. "Kill him."
"No!" You struggled against her, clawed at her arms, her muzzle, anything you could get your hands on, but she wouldn't budge. "No, please! He hasn't done anything!"
Your pleas fell on deaf ears. The wolf beasts spared no time in making short work of Gibson and you watched in horror as they tore into his throat and his stomach, ripping off large chunks of flesh and spraying blood everywhere. You watched as the life drained out of those deep green eyes, watched as he flailed for the first few seconds before quickly falling deathly still. You watched as your best friend was ripped apart before you.
You were sobbing, still fighting against the she-beast, part of you praying there was still a chance. If you could get free, if you could get to him, if Winston sent the medics in, there was still a chance, there had to be a chance, you couldn't lose him, not Gibson, not the kindest, funniest, dorkiest man you'd ever met. Not the first person to ever make you feel loved, wanted, human. Not him, no, not him.
You were only vaguely aware of what happened next. There were gunshots, loud whimpers, the stomping of many pairs of feet. You were dropped onto the floor, a promise whispered in your ear, "We will meet again," and then you were rushing forward on your knees. His blood soaked into your clothes, mingled with your own. You pushed the body of one of the beasts off of him, reached out and cradled his face, begged him not to go, told him to hold on, you were going to get him out of here. Then, you were wrenched away by a pair of strong hands, familiar hands, pulled into a sturdy chest. You fought against it, you couldn't leave him, you promised you'd keep him safe, no, no they couldn't make you leave!
"Briallen, baby, it's over, it's over, he's gone. We've got to go, please," Jesse murmured, holding you tightly against him, turning you to face him, pressing you against his chest as he slowly began to move you away from the body.
"No, please, you can't, you have to save him!" Your voice was hoarse, your body ached as you pounded your fists against his chest, pushed yourself away, but you didn't even have the strength to do that. Eventually, you dissolved, wailing into his chest and letting him escort you out of the building.
He had to carry her to the car. About halfway to the doors of the Giuseppe Pecce Tuition building, her legs gave out beneath her and she had clutched so pathetically to him that his heart nearly broke. He didn't mind that his fatigues were getting soaked through with the blood that still oozed out of her open wounds, didn't even think about it after he managed to get her into the van. He hurt for her, for the undeniable pain she was experiencing right now. It was one thing to lose a best friend, it was another thing entirely to watch them die before your eyes without a way to stop it.
"It's gonna be okay, darlin'," he murmured, setting her down gently on one of the seats in the van, quickly taking a look at her wounds. The bruises on her neck had all but faded, which he still believed was some damn SEP bullshit that he'd only seen in Morrison and Reyes, and the deep claw wounds had started the slow healing process. He could see the skin at the corners beginning to stitch together. "I promise everything is gonna be okay."
She stopped him as he pulled out an emitter, shaking her head and leaning forward, her small hands gripping at his larger ones. "No, please. Don't want one," she hiccupped, trembling.
"Sweetheart, you need an emitter. They roughed you up pretty bad, you've lost a lot of blood and if we don't get these patched up, you're going to lose more," he said, frowning, reaching up to cup her undamaged cheek. "And those are going to leave some nasty scars if we leave them. They really did a number on your face…"
She leaned into the touch, wrapping her slender fingers around his wrist and looked away, tears still leaking from those sad brown eyes of hers. "Gibson got it worse," she murmured, closing her eyes as another sob wormed its way out of her.
Jesse paused, rubbing his thumb gently over her cheek, wiping away a tear. "Okay," he breathed, furrowing his brow. "Okay, no emitter. But you at least have to let me patch you up. It ain't gonna be pretty, but it'll keep you from bleeding out, okay?" He waited for her to nod slowly before he pulled away and grabbed the med pack, pulling out some disinfectants and gauze.
Sighing, he turned around and crouched down in front of her. He realised he'd have to partially undress her to get to some of those wounds, and he sighed again. 'It shouldn't have turned out like this.' "Briallen, baby, can you wiggle out of those?" he asked, gently tugging at her pants. "I can't get to your wounds with all that fabric in the way."
To his surprise, she chuckled, smiling weakly at him. "Maybe Dean was right, maybe you are really only trying to get into my pants."
He knew it was meant to be a joke, he knew she was probably trying to cope, trying to deflect all the emotions she was feeling, but the mention of Dean made him stiffen and his frown deepen.
He saw her face fall. "Jesse, I'm sorry, I-I didn't mean-"
"I know," he murmured, shaking his head. "Still don't mean I have to like it. Come on, now, let's get you out of those. Can you stand?"
"I… I might need some help, it hurts to stand."
He nodded. "Okay." He was careful with her when he helped her stand, his hands resting gently on her sides, trying not to push into the wound there. When she winced and whimpered, he helped her down again and tugged the fabric down her legs, setting them aside for after he finished patching her up.
"This is going to sting," he warned, preparing the disinfectant spray, gripping her knee with his metal hand to keep her leg still. The wound raced up her right thigh and was deep, enough so that, another inch deep and we would have been able to see the bone. 'I should have been with her. Genji could have easily taken care of those thugs by himself, what was I thinkin'?'
She screamed when the spray was applied, letting out a stream of curses in Gaelic and gripping onto his shoulder tight enough that he thought she'd leave wounds on him. Her breathing was ragged as he set the spray bottle down, and he could see how tightly wound the muscles of her leg were.
"I know, I know. Relax," he murmured, gently massaging the unmarred parts of her thigh. "The more tense you are, the more it's gonna hurt. We've got to let it dry a bit before we can wrap the bandages around it."
"Mhac na galla," she breathed, leaning back against the van wall and closing her eyes. Eventually, she relaxed again, her fingers unclenching themselves from his shoulder, and looked down at him. She frowned, reaching forward and gently massaging the space between his brows. "It's not like you to not have a pretty quip or two, Jesse."
He'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the touch, but right now, he didn't feel as if he deserved it. Reaching up, he gently pulled her hand down, pressing a light kiss to the back of it before pressing it into her lap. "I should have been with you," he said quietly, looking down and away from her as he began wrapping the gauze around the wound. "It was stupid of me to let you go by yourself, especially when you've never been out in the field before."
"That wasn't your call to make," she said, lifting her leg to make it easier for him to wrap the gauze.
"Actually, it was. I had superiority. I was supposed to watch your back. And now you're injured and your friend is-" he cut himself off, shaking his head as he moved onto the next wound on her other leg. He could see the bone on that one and it made him frown deeper. 'I put too much faith in the training Jack was giving you. He hadn't trained you for something like this, not yet. I realise that now.'
She was ready for the sting this time and managed to replace her scream with a low moan. "Not your fault. I wasn't strong enough."
He gently gripped her ankle, pulling her closer to him as she had instinctively drawn back from the pain. His fingers massaged the flesh of her calf as the spray dried. "Don't say that Briallen, you were-"
"Stop," she whispered, and Jesse looked up to see her on the verge of tears again. "Stop trying to put the blame on yourself, Jesse. It's my fault. I told the Commander I could handle it, I thought I was strong enough, but I wasn't. So stop."
He pursed his lips, searching her gaze for a second before he looked away and began wrapping the second wound. "What were they?"
She sighed softly, the tears still in her voice. "I don't know. Mutants, I think. I'll write up the report later, just… let's please stop talking about this. I've just lost my best friend, Jesse. I don't want to talk about this right now."
When he had her all patched up, he sat down beside her, gently taking one of her hands into his own. She surprised him by turning and curling up in his lap, tucking her face into the side of his neck. She was warm, and tiny, and fit just right. It nearly made him ache. He ran his fingers through her blood-caked hair, gently tugging at the knots and untangling them until there were no more left.
"Dean told me to avoid being with you whenever I could," she said softly, fingers drumming against his collarbone. "Said you didn't want to be my friend."
He raised an eyebrow, frowning. "Yeah? What, did he say I wanted to hurt you?"
"Mmhmm," she nodded her head a bit, nose brushing against his skin. "He said you wanted to take advantage of me. That you'd get close, use me, and then abandon me."
Jesse let out a scoff. "Yeah, well, Dean Rose is a lying, manipulative asshole," he said, gently wrapping an arm around her. "This ain't his first rodeo."
She was quiet for a bit, fingertips brushing against his neck in a way that gave him goosebumps. "How long have you known?"
"I had my suspicions the day he tried to kick me out of your room. Talked to a few friends of mine who knew him, learned about how some of his past relationships went. None of them went very well," he admitted, letting out a sigh.
"Why didn't you say anything?" she asked, her voice trembling and weak. The question made him frown.
"Would you have believed me? I'm sure Hanzo said something when you rounded on him this morning, did you believe him?"
"...I'm awful," she whispered, her voice beginning to tighten. "I'm sorry."
'I'm going to kill that bastard.' "You ain't got nothin' to be sorry about, darlin'. He manipulated you, he's good at that."
She sniffed, shaking her head. "I let him deceive me. I blindly followed him, believing everything he said, I… I hurt you and Lena… "
He pulled back a bit, lifting her head by her chin and making her look up at him. He was sure there was a hidden fury in his gaze, and he did it best to keep it under wraps. He was going to have words with Rose later, and by words, he meant he was going to punch that bastard in that stupid pretty face of his. Maybe knock out a few of those perfect teeth while he was at it. "Briallen Marsh, don't you ever apologise for anything he made you do. You trusted him because you loved him, that does not make you a bad person. He used your trust against you, that makes him a bad person. You are not at fault here, you are the victim."
Her gaze wobbled, filling with tears that she quickly squashed down, and she nodded.
He sighed and brushed back her bangs, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Go ahead and cry if you need to. Don't worry about soaking the gauze, we have plenty more," he murmured, letting her tuck her face back into the crook of his neck, smiling as she snuggled tighter against him. "We'll be back home in no time."
"Alright, let's check the wound on your face," Angela said, gently peeling back the gauze with her gloved hand. She hummed softly as you winced, tilting your head a bit to get a better look at it. "It's looking good, the nanites in your body are doing a wonderful job at stitching it up."
You rolled your eyes, feeling a but coming along.
"But, I wish you would have used an emitter. Letting it heal on its own is going to leave a nasty scar, Briallen," she warned, smoothing the gauze back down onto your cheek.
"That's okay," you said quietly, fiddling with your fingers. "I don't mind the scars."
Jack grunted, shaking his head. "You should have had Jesse or Genji beside you, Briallen. All of this could have been avoided if-"
"If I had been stronger," you cut in, looking up to meet his gaze. "I wasn't strong enough to hold them off, and Gibs got… hurt because of it." There was an ache in your chest every time Gibs was brought up, which had been a total of ten times since Jesse had carried you out of the building.
"Briallen, that's not-" Angela tried to say, but you shook your head and frowned over at her.
"Yes, it was. If I had been strong enough to kick that mutant off of me… Maybe he'd still be here." Your brain wouldn't stop showing you the image of Gibson laying there, his throat ripped out, his blood spilling onto the wood floor- You shook your head, dispelling the image, instead focusing on the what ifs; what if you hadn't looked behind you? What if you had shot that first mutant? What if you had been strong enough to push it off of you? It all boiled down to your fault, your mistake, your weakness.
You never wanted to witness something like that again, never wanted to feel so weak. You owed so much to Gibson, and in the end, you had gotten him killed.
"He deserves a proper funeral," you said, not realising Angela and Jack had started talking about something else and you had interrupted. You didn't care, not right now. "He died trying to get information to us, something he didn't owe us, and he deserves a proper funeral."
Jack looked over at you, all stern and commander-y, but you could see through that facade now. His eyes were sad, his posture less stiff than with other agents. This wasn't Commander Jack Morrison, this was Dad Morrison. This was him feeling responsible for you, his worry, his grief. The thought made you frown.
"Briallen, that's not possible. We'd have to alert his family, explain what happened, which would inevitably expose us," he said, shaking his head, crossing his arms over his chest.
"I don't care. Make it possible. We don't have to tell them exactly how he died. His family deserves to know, the triplets deserve to know." Tears had begun to gather in your eyes, hard, angry tears. This was your fault, you caused this. The least you could do was make sure he was given a proper burial and the honour he deserved.
"The triplets?" Angela asked, scrunching up her brows in confusion.
You sighed, rubbing at your forehead. Being awake and in pain this long was starting to take its toll. "Caelen, Sylvia, and Iris. They were our friends, are our friends…" A sudden thought struck you and you looked up at Jack in concern. "Jack, I- we kept contact after I was hired. They don't know about Overwatch, but they know I had to move, and they talked religiously with Gibson. If Arachnid went after him because of me, could they be in trouble?"
"That depends, where are they?"
"They live in the states, Washington, I believe. But they still have family here in England. What if, what if Arachnid manipulates their family, gets them to come back home? What if they get kidnapped as well?" You began to panic, your mind racing through all the possibilities. If they got hurt, it would be on you as well, it would be all your fault all over again. You couldn't handle losing all four of your old friends.
"Briallen, take a couple deep breaths," Angela said softly, gently laying a hand on your shoulder. "I'm sure they're safe for now. We have a safe house in Washington, don't we Jack? We could move them there."
You shook your head. "That's too far, if something happened, we wouldn't be able to get anyone out there fast enough."
Jack frowned. "How do you know that?"
"I've had some free time. Figured I would eventually be of use somewhere other than my office, so I began studying response times, flight patterns, old ops and strategies. I may not be good in a fight, but I'll be damned if I'm not good with my head." You shook your head again, running your fingers through your crusty hair. Jesse had done a good job at getting those knots out. "If… If we hold the funeral for Gibson, they're bound to fly out. We can keep them safe here, or at a safehouse in London. It's only an hour away, less if we take a plane. It's closer to Walworth than I'd like it to be, but it's our best shot at keeping them safe."
Both Jack and Angela were quiet, looking between you and the other, then Jack chuckled and gave you a rare smile. "You're finally talking like an agent. We'll see what we can do. I'll talk with Winston and Ana, see what their take is. I'll let you know when we come to a decision." With that and a dip of his head, he turned and left the room, leaving you and Angela alone.
"Angela, there was one other thing," you said, pinching the bridge of your nose and blinking to try and get the headache to dispel itself.
"Of course, what is it?" Her eyes were filled with pity and concern. You didn't like that, didn't want to be the object of anyone's pity. Not anymore.
"I want to go through with it, the procedure. I want you to make me a hero."