Chapter 1 - Death
The bells rang ever so loudly in his head, their harrowing sounds growing evermore present, like an incessant nuisance. Until this critical juncture, where they at last silenced themselves. He found peace at last. The droplets of rain striking his smeared visage cleansed of the impurities that stained him, but there was an untraceable bitter taste that lingered on his tongue where the rain fell. The coldness spread from his core to the extremities, swallowing him whole. It wasn't long before the calming touch of the rain he relished mere moments ago, now felt like nothing at all. Genji turned his gaze from the endless cloudy sky to where he felt some sensation. He looked down, to see his severed arm paint the earth with a sorrowful crimson. A blade impaled through his sternum, the sparrow still felt the steel extend its reach beyond his bareback. Weakness overcame him but in a moment of solace, as he accepted his faith and prepared for departure to the endless nothingness that awaited him, he mustered the strength to grasp the hand that wielded the bane of his existence with the arm that remained tethered.
"Are you at peace, Hanzo?" The Sparrow muttered, an inquiry met by damning silence. "You've fulfilled your duty and slain your only brother." Still, he was met with silence and with frustration mounting a second wind sparked new life within. A grip that fixated on Hanzo's wrist now took him by the collar drawing Hanzo closer to his brother, as death's grip tightened around Genji. "You're despicable. You didn't learn a thing from our father. You let the elders played you like some pawn."
The blade from Genji's abdomen was extracted, at last, the venom in his dying words finally began to take effect upon the apathetic Hanzo, invoking the turbulence of emotions, he so desperately attempted to suppress, to surface. Angered, Hanzo gave his brother one final push, forsaking him to the earth. A solemn vow to fulfill his duty to the clan he valued above all else, including the life of his brother, upon which he metaphorically spit on with a last act of disrespect. "You're but a disgrace to the clan. You are not fit to be Shimada. You have forgotten the burden the name carries. We can no longer abide by your childish behaviour, Genji."
Turning heel the last living Shimada departed, kicking dirt onto the body that would soon be a corpse. It was only mere moments ago, that he could appreciate the colourless darkened sky in all its glory. It was monotone and drab, but there was beauty in simplicity. Beauty that slipped from his grasp with each passing second, slowly the crying skies above became nothing but a hazy reflection until it became nothing at all. An endless void from which light could not escape, the eternal nothingness. Genji verbalized nothing for he damned his faith, he did not embrace death willingly and it is only in his twilight he came to realize. Death had forced thyself upon him. How he longed for the pleasures of the flesh that he once drowned in, without a thought for consequence. A female companion wrapped around one arm and a drink that would make any man far more honest than he was capable of being in the other. Even the sounds of the arcade machines now played in his head like an addictive melody, even if such sounds were anything but. "I don't want to.." But the choice was not one for him to make.
"Calling Overwatch HQ, Agent ID: X-90843. Operation: Dragon's Breath. Code Alpha: Requesting immediate medical assistance. The subject is in critical condition. EMT has stemmed the bleeding but the wounds still prove to be fatal. Transporting subject to Tokyo facility. Priority: Valkyrie."
"Out of the way!"
"Operating room now!"
"Where is she?!"
"She's on her, ETA 15 mins. Tracer is with her."
"He won't make the 15 mins."
The hands of time mercilessly marched on. With each second that was lost to the sands of time, Genji's spirit communion to the great beyond intensified. A pitiless existence, transfixed onto the great divide between life and death, unallowed to cross into either.
"Even if she gets here now, there's nothing she can do.."
"Then it's a good thing Overwatch's medical research is ahead of its time wouldn't you say?"
A voice commanded the attention of the room as the doors to the operating room flung open. The committer, however, was careful not to contaminate the cleanroom and abide by the strict protocols set in place, dressed in a white lab coat, flaxen hair tied up and away from potentially hindering her work, a stethoscope slung around her neck. She walked with purpose and urgency, just a pace short of running. Approaching the patient with one glance she assessed his condition, the accompanying report was studied just as quickly and put to the side, which only served to reinforce what she had already predicted. "You over there!" She commanded personnel as if this was a battlefield and she was the presiding commander. Beeps of all kind sounded off, each one indicating one critical condition after another. They were cascading, mounting, becoming overwhelming.
"He's going into cardiac arrest!"
Even as the room around her descended the spiral of chaos, she stood steady at the eye of the storm, steadfast and resolute, armed with the skills and knowledge to navigate the storm. With two paddles she marched onto his bedside. "Move!" She demanded. "Clear!" She carried as she imposed the two paddles onto his chest. The electrocardiogram detected no significant change. So she tried again. "Clear!" And again. "Clear!" And Again. "Clear!"
"Dr. Ziegler.." A nurse placed a hand on her shoulder, to distract and detract but the same complexion of determination persevered. "Clear!" She slowly retreated the paddles. Perhaps it was time to admit, admit that even for all the advancements in medicine she made, all the times she stubbornly defied the odds, there are some souls the grim reaper was unwilling to let loose once more onto the world. It was then, the eternal void answered her remorse. The monitors once more established a steady pattern. The heartbeat she read was weak, but it was stable.
"Induce hibernation for at least a month." She directed. "Providing he can maintain this heart rate for another hour we can proceed with the operation. We'll need to amputate both legs. The tissue has already begun to die, we need to act quickly before an infection sets in. Ready the therapeutic cybernetics, we'll install them right away, as long as the neural interface is successful he should wake up feeling as if nothing has changed."
Drawing a pen from her pocket, she recovered a holo pad upon which she scribed all her directives and approved with her impression at the bottom, before handing it off to the appropriate staff to follow through.
"Prepare the healing pod. There's not much tissue left, but we'll at least be able to regenerate what remains."
The doctor turned to the patient once more, sapphire hues carefully studying what remained. From what patches of skin not stained by crimson, she could deduce the man either maintained an effective skincare routine of sorts or was blessed by genetics. He was an ideal "specimen" so to speak, a good bone structure served as the framework for his figure, upon which he maintained an ideal muscle tone. Perhaps the picture of health so frivolously the media often advertised. Yet for all his physical virtues, he'd now be forced to forfeit nearly all to cling to what little life still sparked within. A sense of remorse now burdened the prodigal doctor. The man appeared to be around the same age as her, uncertain as she didn't have the opportunity to study identity details yet, being consumed by the severity of his injuries. Despite his youth, he was massacred, defiled, what remained was a husk of who he once was. Wounds so deep it cut to the bone, and in some instances wounds, the cut bone was openly exposed to the contaminant-less air of the operating room. Angela bit her lower lip, a growing frustration burrowed in her chest, this was more than attempted murder this was all-consuming hatred unleashed onto another, an act of sincere evil.
Irrespective of the therapies that would restore his body's full functionality, in some instances enhancing his capabilities, allowing him to discard the limitations of the fragile human body, the extent of the mental trauma he'd now be forced to cope with remained an uncertainty. He'd continuously tread the line between man and machine, would he be able to establish equilibrium? The porcelain skin of her thin digits caressed the edges of the gaping wound upon his chest. It was a prayer if anything. Not that she invested much faith in an omnipotent force beyond human comprehension, but if there ever was such a thing, let it show him mercy. There she felt some reassurance, an answer to her prayer of sorts, a strong steady rhythm to his breathing as if he was stubbornly defying the odds and clinging to life. The crestfallen doctor found some solace, at last, which manifested as a subtle smile that curved to her pale lips. "Don't give up." She whispered
"Dr. Ziegler. Commander Morrison, Blackwatch Commander Reyes, and Captain Amari are here to see you." She turned her head in surprise, seldom did the three heads of Overwatch convene. To add to the exceptionality of the moment, the three gathered to addressed her, whereas more often than not, her correspondence with top brass involved exclusively Morrison. Intrigued Angela pried herself away from the table and departed the room. "Prep him for surgery." She instructed before her impromptu exit.
"Commander Morrison, if this is about the situation in Switzerland my team there is more than capable of handling it." She quickly commented, taking a stab in the dark as to what pressing concern would warrant such an intervention here.
"It's not about that Angela. But this a sensitive matter, let's find somewhere quiet." The air in the atmosphere suddenly grew heavy. Angela felt the temperature of the room plummet and her bones grow stiff. Something ominous hung between the two parties convened here, She studied their expression and she could already deduce whatever the matter was, it was something she wouldn't be able to stomach. The doctor sighed, venting the doubts that restrained her before she followed the three into an isolated room and as the door shut behind her the sense of tension only wrung tighter.
Nearly an hour had passed.
"No way!" She stated thunderously, her voice carrying to the nearby halls, warranting the few curious eyes to wander to the room through the glass window. All such gazes were met with a scornful one from Reyes, that immediately re-directed them back to their duties.
"Angela, calm down. This benefits Overwatch and the people of Japan. We haven't gained any ground in our fight against the Shimada, this is our best chance." Morrison interjected.
"I won't!" She protested with vigour once more.
"Angela, you're being stubborn." They presented a unified front, with even Ana echoing their sentiments. Angela felt as if she was being cornered, forced to do their bidding or else, but she was not so easily toppled, she'd stand her ground and uphold her morals. Superiors or not, she had no intention of following through.
"Stubborn!? I developed that technology to increase the survivability of our soldiers on the front lines. The technology isn't even finished, neural compatibility caps out at 75% on even the most trained soldiers who have been using enhanced augments for 10 or more years and prolonged connection could permanently damage the nervous system. But you're asking me to administer an upscaled version of that technology to a patient who barely escaped death. You're trying to turn him into a living weapon for your war and I won't do it! It's unethical and that putting it mildly." Angela explained, all the details laid bare before top brass, every argument a sound objection against their stance. Yet even after sharing a glance, they appeared to remain unmoved. "He doesn't deserve this…"
"Yes but I understand that the cybernetics can shock his nervous system awake once initialized it might even bring him out of his hibernation state," Morrison added.
"I-" Angela prepared to defy them one more, dissuade them if possible, open their eyes to this corrupted train of thought but she was interrupted by a hand being hammered onto the table that divided the two sides. Reyes, at last, stood from his seat and approached, the taller man now towering over her. Eyes that knew no compassion attempted to pacify her but it was met with a gaze deterministic gaze that did not crumble to such petty displays of power. Angela stood her ground against that scowl.
"Angela-" But Reyes was quickly interrupted. "It's Dr. Ziegler."
"Fine." After a huff, he continued, unperturbed by her open defiance. "I am the one responsible for Genji Shimada, as I am the leader of the operation, assigned by that man right over there." An extended index pointed to Morrison sitting across the table and the doctor's vision tracked to meet an apathetic gaze. "I allowed you to save him but if you won't do as you're told I'll easily give that to someone who has the stomach to do what is necessary since you do not."
"It's not a matter of having the stomach for it, it's about wanting to do what's right, and it's my technology," Angela answered his blatant insinuation of her cowardice. A slap to the face, how she would like to respond in kind but such an action would only weaken the position she fixed herself in. Ethics guided her judgement, and she could not comprehend why it didn't at the very least guide Morrison and Amari as well. Her response was met with a satisfied smirk from the Blackwatch commander. More than an insult, now he was mocking her. She didn't have the power to stop the proverbial train travelling at Mach speeds and he knew. So through his mannerisms, he provoked her, provoked her to do something imprudent and permanently validate him. Ziegler clenched her fist, ready to do just that.
"All technology you develop while working in Overwatch belongs to Overwatch. All I have to do is hand over all this tech to someone who sees things a little differently." Reyes carefully navigated the dynamics of power in this conversation, slowly robbing Angela of all of it. If this were chess, he'd be but one move away from checkmate and now he reached for the final piece to do just that. "But I wonder. Can you trust someone else to do it right? Are you willing to play with someone else's life just to defy a direct order, doctor?"
Enraged, Angela gritted her teeth, canalizing all her rage into that right fist, ready to unleash it all unto that smug face and permanently free him from his arrogance. Faith intervened however, a device mounted to her wrist sounded off an alarm, reminding her of her priorities and keeping her grounded in this trapped cage. She looked at Reyes. "You're despicable." She said with conviction, before marching through him and shoving Reyes aside with her forearm to exit the room.
"That was over the line Reyes," Amari commented, reflecting on his conduct before the doctor. It was met with nothing more than a shrug of his shoulders as a retort.
"Over the line or not. She has no choice now." The Blackwatch commander triumphantly remarked, without a thought to his methods.
Morrison simply observed, in silence, hesitant to the leap to the defence of either of his friends. As he saw it, the objective they established was accomplished, however crudely it may have been achieved.
Angela slowly traversed the halls to her destination, her thoughts all-consumed by the situation imposed onto her. She tried to internally reconcile the two opposing sides with an explanation that was sufficiently satisfied but she couldn't conjure on. From every which angle she approached this problem, it was unjust. She just simply couldn't do it. She soon turned her gaze up from the floor, her team was ready to undertake the surgery. What deliberations she had regarding the previously discussed subject would have to wait, as now this required her unbridled focus. As she entered the room a nurse had offered her a mask, one she placed against her face and the automated features of the masked worked to secure its position there. Angela looked down at her gloved hand where the sensation lingered, the feeling of his beating chest, the feeling of him fighting for his life. She was unsure why she clung to that feeling but it gave her some respite at this moment. Ste stepped forth, and beyond the curtain, there he was; Genji Shimada.