"Synchronization Rate, 93%." the luminous surface of the screen cast a peering blue light onto a transfixed countenance. Various programs operated in tandem and sequence, each program then in part operating a different mechanical operation of integration, though still guided by a human aide. For regardless of the efficiency of a self-learning algorithm, the margin of error was never zero. A proud doctor oversaw the operation and commanded the lab with authority, her instructive voice carried across the room, harmonizing many minds towards a singular task. "I want the synapse synchronization as close to 100% as we can get it. Run a full body scan, look for any that failed to connect."
"But doctor, we've run the scan 3 times already. We can't find the lapse in response rate. Maybe we-" A deep voice protested to Zeigler, yet he would soon regret doing so, for she did not find his criticism constructive but rather open defiance of her authority. The ire captured in her gaze as she looked upon the assistant would express her irritation sufficiently enough that not another word was uttered. The assistant simply returned to doing as he was bid. And as Angela turned on her heels to another matter that demanded her attention, she let out a heavy sigh. The stress that accompanied her profession and position now bearing heavily on her.
"Doctor Ziegler, I think we found the problem." At last, a problem was identified, much preferred to a series of dead-ends that precluded them from their end-goal. "We missed connecting a synapse here but I think it's because the neurons in this area have been extensively damaged but. We might be able to regenerate some of it and get the synchronization rate up to 97% and it's possible that if he grows more used to the cybernetics he'll be able to achieve a 100%." A comforting hand was placed upon the perceptive assistant's shoulder, a touch that conveyed a sense of gratitude. Angela let out another sigh, though this time, out of relief. "Thank you, Scarlett," Angela said.
The primary conundrum resolved, everyone now departed. One by one did the lights in this vast facility cease to provide them with the ambiance for their work and as Angela exited the lab last, the last light now became dormant. She turned the corner and the door to another room hissed open, the air-lock seal allowed her to breathe once more and released the repressed air. There he sat, gazing out the window to a sea of stars, fortunately not drowned by light pollution. It was as if it was a corpse bound to a chair, with some semblance of life still left in its lungs. "Genji... " the doctor called his name as she approached, hoping this time she'd earn a response.
Silence filled the air, the hand of time marched forward yet not a word shared between them. She looked upon him but half of his expression remained drowned in the darkness of the room, whilst the other half was illuminated by the grace of the moonlight; scars kissed and accentuated by the shimmering silver. Angela turned in place and resolved to leave him to his lonesome silence. Dainty digits raised to the button to prompt the door to open but hesitation overwhelmed, albeit briefly. "How was your day?" Spoke a sombre voice, shattering the deafening silence.
"It was fine." She responded in kind, back still turned to him, warmed by the same moonlight that so intimately caressed his face. Though the raised hand found itself at her side once more, burrowed into a pocket of her lab coat. "That's good to hear. You know I had a croissant for the first time today?" Angela couldn't decipher this cryptic shift in attitude. Ever since his arrival he hardly spoke a word unless necessary. Even to her. She was curious in regards to the illicit but she conceded to appreciating the shift now and reasoning it later if it meant they'd share in at least one amicable conversation. She unwrapped her stethoscope from her neck and placed it onto the table next to her. Removing a chair from the ensemble she repositioned it to his bedside where she found a comfortable seat. "The first time?" She asked.
"I was never a fan of desserts or pastry. I always liked savoury and spicy food. But I have to say, I think I want to try some more." Genji spoke his voice, at last, regaining some of the deprived vitality. It was slow, but the melodic cadence was returning, at least to Angela's ear.
"I'm the opposite. Growing up in Switzerland, I always had a ton of pastries growing up. I guess over time I had gotten used to the taste and even developed a sweet tooth." The tension that wound her tone now fizzled out, the naturally more halcyon nature of the room triggered a feeling of ease within. She even sunk into her chair to revel in the relief to her legs and back at last. As she did, her mobile device sounded off, forcing her to draw it from her pocket. With nothing but a glance and a swift tap on the holographic screen did she dismissed the incoming call. Not being intrusive enough to disrupt the natural rhythm of their conversation, it didn't earn a mention from either.
"It's kind of funny to think about, isn't it? A doctor with a sweet tooth. You'd think a doctor of all people would be trying to avoid it, no?"
"Hey, it's not like I send out prescriptions that say 10 chocolate cakes and 10 weeks of bed rest. Or go home and just devour sweets for breakfast, lunch and dinner."
"I'm surprised you own a home at all Dr. Ziegler. I assumed you just live here."
"Contrary to popular belief, even I have off days, Genji. And on those days off I like to sit at home reading medical journals."
"So not a day off then." He remarked on her warped meaning of "time-off" with a teasing inflection in his tone.
"That's not... Well.." She sighed in defeat, leaving Genji with the spoils of victory; a flustered Angela who then prodded at his shoulder at her index. "Well okay, then Mr. Shimada, Ph.D. in time off. What should I exactly be doing on my days off?"
Whatever tension plagued their relationship before now diminished, as if fading with each spoken word, finding common ground. Angela giggled at his teasing and Genji looked upon her with a subtle smile carving to his sharp features and thin lips. Once more they share in a moment of silence, but before long one of them dared to thrust rather simply await a preemptive verbal engagement from the other.
"Listen, Genji." All the levity that he injected into her, dissipated. Sombre expressed in her crestfallen visage and cadence invoice. Sapphire's oculars were too afraid or ashamed to look him in the eye. "This procedure. That we're going to do… I didn't want to." She admitted shamefully, cursing her lack of authority over the decision.
"I know," Genji replied. "But you're giving me a purpose Angela." Purpose, that word, in particular, struck a chord within her that captured attention, she leaned forward attentively, elbows imposed onto her thighs. "What do you mean?" The doctor prodded, curious.
"My family… They threw me out like some trash. Like I was nobody, I can't just let that go." He spoke, etching his pain into every breath as he spoke. A yearning for vengeance that was initially a cause for pause but she reasoned his motives. She was no wide-eyed optimistic child, she acknowledged despite her strong adherence to her principles of doing good, many would rather inflict pain. Similarly, it's not unjustified those subject to such suffering might seek retribution. An eye for an eye was not lost on the sighing Angela.
"Genji, I wish I had all the answers. I wish I could say something that would make you give all that up, but I don't think I've ever been eloquent in that way." Angela finally summoned the courage to layer her hand over his. The scars still felt tender, as if refusing to heal, even after the significant passage of time and treatment attention. "But this isn't just another prosthetic for me. This is something I made because I thought it could help people, but after I realized the harm it could do and I never wanted it to see the light of day. But now, I'm not being given a choice."
Angela sighed, the tightness with which she clutched onto his hand only accentuated the frustration she was attempting to convey to him through words. "Genji, whatever you do after tomorrow, the responsibility for all of it rests with me. It'd be on my conscience. So I'm asking you, please. Whatever you do, do it because it's the right thing to do. Not because you want to hurt others, or because you want to hurt other people or because you're overcome with anger. Even if it's going after your family. I want you to take a step back and ask yourself if it's the right thing to do. Please."
Genji was tempted to outright refuse her, as such he forcefully pried him free of her graces. How could she ask that of him? Was she blind to the living product of their cruelty? "Leave," Genji demanded. Like a spear those words struck Angela at her core, astonishment expressed through wide-eyed disbelief but she was no child, she regained her composure, buried the hurt and responded with; "Fine." as she took her to leave and evacuated the seat next to his bedside and approached the door. "I am sorry for what they did to you Genji. But if you did what they did, you won't be any better than them." The air-sealed door hissed open and Angela promptly made her exit, nothing more left to say. Genji looked down upon his hand where the sensation of her quivering hand lingered.
"Begin."
With a baton did the combatant leap at his target. Though the temporary gain in air time left him vulnerable, a vulnerability swiftly exploited as Genji was quick to contort his body, raised his fist and cocked it back, elbow aligned with his shoulder blade, Lunging forward, he reversed the contortion of his upper body, swinging his right fist into a heavy right hook, a simple maneuver with more pronounced lethality as an effect of gathered momentum and the added weight of his upper body. Steel digits found pay-dirt against a nasal structure after shattering through the fortified visor, a decisive blow that launched his target through the air with violent momentum, culminating when his armoured spine struck the wall, inertia setting in. All the accumulated force was dispersed equally and omnidirectionally, forming a crater originating at the point of impact. A tremor cascaded through the arena.
Angela looked away, unable to bear witness to the harm her machinations inflicted upon others; the worst possible outcome. She recalled that night like a deeply scarring tragedy, where she asked the wielder of her weapons to exercise responsibility when he played his role as an arbiter of cruelty on behalf of Overwatch. The frustration expressed on the surface by her visage abhorred the violence but what was not expressed superficially was her crumbling in belief in what Overwatch stood for. One by one were the soldiers were dismissed with extreme prejudice, their cries filled the sizeable training room until there was nothing but whimpering as they begged for assistance. A thunderous round of clapping stirred her out of her thoughts and reeled her back to the present.
"Do you like it?" Reyes asked, his hands concluding the celebratory gesture. "It's only been a month and he's already this proficient. Your cybernetics truly are extraordinary, doctor. Imagine what he'll be able to do in a month." Though the words might mislead one into conceiving them as a compliment, when taken in context and the wicked gleam in the blood-stained eyes it became salient for what it was; spite. But Angela had no retort, the man that stood at the epicentre of the facility, at the eye of the concluded storm as Reyes' overwhelming victory. Reyes took to exiting the room, leaving the doctor to her devices. A temporary lapse in composure; she tossed the cup of coffee in her hand at the wall of glass through which she was made to observe. Its integrity immediately failed, as pieces of ceramics scattered across the room, exploding on impact and its contents painting the transparent layer of glass with a not so transparent stain of caffeine. Angela too made her exit.
Ambulating down the hall, she followed the trail left by stretchers carrying off the men that were just subject to Genji's cruelty. Each whimper of pain that begged for help was a token of the flood of betrayal by everyone that surrounded her, all souls she at one point believed to be well-intentioned and pursued a noble mission. Now? Her ethics forcefully violated, the ethics which guided her to joining their ranks, believing their resources would allow her a platform to aid more people than she ever could be cooped up in the ward of a facility in Switzerland, was called into question. The faith she had in Morrison, and therefore Overwatch, now faltered and stood on the precipice of collapse, but she was no child. She was a soldier, and she must soldier on, for now; the resolution that informed her proudly raising her head once more.
"Angela." Called an all too familiar voice from her six. With an exasperated sigh, she restricted her impulsivities and turned to face the one who spoke her name. "What do you want, Genji?" She asked, her voice as dry as the plains of Sahara, for she had little to offer him in regards to the conversation as things stood. "I know you were having doubts that your cybernetics would work, but I can assure you they're extremely proficient," Genji stated and their gazes convened, not a flicker of life within their eyes as they looked upon each other, it's almost as if they looked at each other with no expectation at all. Except, Angela did expect something, he just chose to betray those expectations, there was little to be said anymore.
Angela stepped forward, enclosing the distance that separated the two. An open palm of her slender right hand slashed across the air and ultimately struck the scarred cheek of the Shimada, the unpleasant sound of her smite echoing across the empty corridor they occupied. "Idiot." The doctor admonished before turning heel and choosing to walk away. There was nothing to be said anymore.