The art of war is simple enough. Find out where your enemy is. Get at him as soon as you can. Strike him as hard as you can, and keep moving on.
~Ulysses S. Grant
The moment her eyes open, Brigitte is awake. There is none of the usual muzzy fog of exhaustion and sleepiness, only sharp clarity and awareness.
She rolls over to check her pad: it's 3:49, about forty minutes earlier than her alarm is due to go off.
There's no way she's getting back to sleep now, and they're due to roll out at 5:30, so she gets out of bed as silently as possible and heads to the bathroom. A quick scrub of her face with a wet washcloth is all she has time for before her body realizes what day it is and her nerves catch up with her.
She emerges twenty minutes later feeling much lighter, only to realize that she's not the only one awake. Lena is curled up in her bed, scrolling through her dimmed pad. Angela is already up, changing into a black thermal underlayer.
"Oh, good. So it's not too early to get ready?" Brigitte says aloud, breaking the silence.
Lena sits up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "No way! Earlier is better, I reckon. Gives us time to test everything."
"Alright then," Brigitte says, and begins to change into her own underlayer. It's padded to protect against the friction burn the heavier pieces of her armor sometimes cause.
She pauses for a moment, debating about whether to put her wrist wraps on when her guts decide to take that moment to rebel and she has to run to the bathroom again.
"Pre-fight jitters?" Lena says sympathetically when she finally emerges.
"No!" Brigitte protests. "I'm not nervous at all!"
It's not a lie. Besides the squirrelly stomach she feels absolutely fine. Her mind is at ease, no nagging worries. If anything she's excited to get to it.
"Sometimes the body reacts to excitement in much the same way as it does to nervousness," Angela says, pulling on a thin pair of black gloves. "It's not unusual. And I rather think that in this case it's better out than in."
Brigitte, not wanting to continue this sort of conversation even with her doctor merely bobs her head in agreement and heads out the door. When she ducks through into the storage tent she sees Hanzo and Genji already inside, inspecting their weapons. They nod at her and she nods back before turning to her armor.
She shifts aside the small silver package atop the breastplate that is her IR suit; they had spent some time late last night trying them on. The suits are designed to fit while they are outfitted in their gear, so putting it on without had resulted in a pretty comical appearance for both her and Reinhardt. She had felt like a child dressed up in her parents' clothes, waddling around in all that sagging fabric.
She kicks the wrapped suit over next to Reinhardt's, then lays her armor out flat on the ground.
Getting into the bottom half of her armor is the most difficult part of gearing up. When she had first designed it she had needed help clicking each individual piece into place; the greaves, the poleyses, the cuisses, the sabatons. Now she leaves it assembled as one piece and wriggles into it like a worm entering a cocoon, and from there can adjust it accordingly.
Reinhardt arrives as she is sliding on her breastplate, and she chirps a cheery good morning at him.
"Wanna help me with these?" she asks, waving her tassets at him. He fastens one side while she does up the other, forming the skirtlike shroud of armor that hangs over each thigh. He likewise assists her with her pauldrons and rerebraces, stopping just before applying the couters so she has enough flexibility to help him into his armor.
"Did you sleep well?" she asks, clanking over to give him a hand up once he's slipped into his leg armor.
"Yes, unusually so. The jetlag is often much worse," he says as she tightens the armor down.
Brigitte grins. "I think I might know the reason for that." She taps his leg, urging him to test his range of motion.
"Oh?" Reinhardt bends his knees in a squat, then kneels, then stands back up with a groan. "Perhaps a little looser on the left greave."
"Yeah, Lu told me he noticed once when he left his Crossfade suit on overnight he slept like a baby. He had his amp on for you guys overnight," she says, loosening the offending greave. "I slept really well when I had his speaker with me too," she taps his leg again.
"Lu, hmm?" Reinhardt says, lunging and flexing. His tone is playful, inquisitive. "That is a new nickname. What has inspired it?"
His prying isn't subtle, and she shoots a glance at the silent Shimada brothers. Undoubtedly they are hearing every word of this exchange, but they don't seem like the type to gossip. Still, she knocks a pauldron against his elbow and hisses, "Nothing!"
Reinhardt raises an eyebrow at her as he gets up, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Are you sure? You looked awfully cozy last night, listening to music together."
Brigitte feels heat rising in her face. Is that really how her friendship with Lúcio is coming across? And had he been watching them? She thought he had been asleep!
"We were just relaxing, that's all!" she ducks her head to hide her blush under the pretense of tightening one of her tassets. "Besides, we're just friends. He shortens my name too, you know."
If anything that makes it worse. When she looks at him again Reinhardt is giving her a knowing look so smug that she wants to smack him.
"Oh c'mon!" she exclaims, and pushes him towards his breastplate. "It's not like I didn't notice you enjoying yourself in that wrestling match with Zarya yesterday." She has to flip the attention back to him before he really digs in or he'll never let up.
Reinhardt pauses, partway through hoisting the breastplate. "What?"
"You know...you held that pin preeetty long at the end there."
"I-I-what?!"
Brigitte is so busy teasing him that she doesn't notice when Angela and McCree slip into the tent.
Reinhardt slides into the breastplate and Brigitte gleefully tightens the back of it, ducking out of his sight each time he tries to turn to confront her.
"Stop moving, you're making this difficult!" she scolds, then adds, "If I was Zarya I bet you would hold still." She has to hold back laughter at the sight of his face when he turns again, he's positively aghast.
"You-!" he exclaims, and it's on.
They bicker the entire time as the rest of their armor goes on, earning a few looks from Angela and Torbjörn as he walks in and hears them at it.
"Children," sighs Lena fondly behind them. Brigitte turns to see her outfitted in her winter coat, leather pistol harnesses strapped around her hips and thighs.
"He started it!" she mock-whines, playing up the childish antics. There's a clank of metal-on-metal as Reinhardt loops an arm around her neck and pulls her against him, mussing her hair with his knuckles.
"So this is the great Overwatch," Lúcio says from the mouth of the tent, shaking his head with feigned gravitas, "I am not impressed." He can't hold the serious expression for long before it cracks into a grin and he laughs at the state of Brigitte's hair.
They are being a bit silly, considering the seriousness of the occasion, but Brigitte thinks that might be the stress. Laughter and humor are some of the better coping mechanisms, in her opinion. She grins at him and slides out of Reinhardt's grip, bending to grab the final component of her armor: her gauntlets. With those on she flexes her leather-clad fingers, the warming fabric losing its rigidity.
The wings of Angela's Valkyrie suit flare as she powers it on, bright feathers of light elongating and then shrinking as their generators adjust. Lúcio's skates glow green and then gold as he cycles through his speed and healing modes, sound silenced so he doesn't accidentally boost them. Reinhardt slides his helm into place and the eyes flash yellow as the Crusader armor comes online.
Hanzo tests the pull of his bow, then inspects the creamy fletchings of each of his arrows before returning them to their quiver. Torbjörn taps his foot, waiting for everybody to get ready. He's already outfitted with his rivet gun and forge claw, and if she knows her father he's already prepared his turrets as well. Winston is nowhere to be seen, but his Tesla Cannon rests on the floor just next to Reinhardt's hammer.
Clad in all her armor Brigitte actually feels warm enough to brave the Russian cold without a coat. She takes her mace outside and gives it a couple of practice swings, testing the snap of the flail. Even with the cold stiffening the mechanisms, it's response is good.
The morning is dark, but Brigitte thinks the sky might be lightening. She's been up for what feels like an hour now, and she fumbles for her pad to check. Almost 5. It's a little early for breakfast, but still she is hungry. She remembers how Reinhardt mentioned that they should eat light during missions, as dealing with the after-effects of large meals is troublesome, especially when clad in this amount of armor.
"Man…" she sighs. Hopefully once they get on the move she'll be able to forget her hunger.
Brigitte joins the others back in the tent to put the finishing touches on their armor. Everyone else is putting their cold weather gear back on except for the Shimada brothers; Hanzo looks like he'll be mighty cold with his left side exposed like that. Genji is holding his coat out to him, shaking it insistently at his recalcitrant brother. The cyborg himself seems completely unaffected by the weather.
As a finishing touch to her ensemble Brigitte wedges her IR suit into the miniature tool bag she carries strapped to her hip. It's already overflowing because she has to carry Reinhardt's as well, him lacking any storage in his armor.
"Overwatch!" Zarya's voice booms from the mouth of the tent, and Brigitte turns to see her throwing the flap aside. "Are you ready to fight?"
Her appearance surprises Brigitte. No longer is she wearing her RDF uniform, instead she is outfitted in dark blue armor that covers every part of her but her arms, and Brigitte can see black ink crawling down Zarya's left shoulder, her forearms. She has what looks like weightlifting gloves on, and a black band strapped just above her right elbow that Brigitte recognizes as something that Reinhardt uses when his tendonitis is flaring up.
Mostly though she notices Zarya's weapon. It's huge and white, almost as big as the woman herself. It looks a lot like Winston's Tesla Cannon, but has a curious v-shaped break near the handgrips. Whatever it does, it looks like it'll pack a punch.
Winston comes living through the tent flap just a few seconds after Zarya arrives, nearly bumping right into her. He's already in his armor, and must have been for some time.
"Oh, excuse me!" he says, shying around Zarya to heft his gun in one large hand. "Sorry for being late. Was repositioning one of our satellites." Winston looks around at them, taking in the sight of his team which is looking expectantly back at him. "Are we ready to go?"
"Yes!" Reinhardt and Brigitte agree enthusiastically to a cheerful chorus from Lena, Lúcio and Angela, while the Shimada brothers nod and McCree flashes a finger gun at him.
"Okay then, lead the way Zarya," Winston says with a respectful nod.
Zarya leads them out and through the maze of tents. Brigitte turns to look as they go, watching their temporary home disappear around a corner. They'll be back to get everything, but she can't shake a strange feeling of unease.
Maybe it has something to do with the few armed soldiers watching them go by, or the near-complete absence of motion in camp. She realizes that the other soldiers must already be at the battlefield. Must have been for some time, in fact.
The feeling is forgotten when Zarya takes them to a makeshift road through the middle of camp where a canvas-lined military truck is parked.
"This will take us to the dropoff point," Zarya says, gesturing for them to climb into the back.
They pile into the truck's dark, musty interior, perching themselves along each side on bench-style seating. Brigitte is wedged between Reinhardt and her father, sitting across from Zarya who has propped her weapon between her legs. Winston crouches awkwardly at the back of the truck, unable to sit alongside them due to his massive girth.
"Poyekhali!" Zarya calls loudly, slapping the metal shell that separates them from the cab of the truck. The truck rumbles to life beneath them, shaking like a miniature earthquake before evening to a purring rumble. It's been so long since she's ridden in a gas vehicle, Brigitte is momentarily startled by the noise and quaking, the loud rattling sound of her armor vibrating against Reinhardt's.
They truck trundles out of the camp, lurching and bumping onto the road. It moves ponderously, grinding through the track-ridden snow with infinite care. Brigitte knows from Winston's debriefing that the omnium is maybe eight kilometers from them, the battlefield itself only four. They're headed due east towards a water treatment plant that's connected by sewer directly to the omnium.
"Alright, let's go through the plan one more time," Torbjörn says, breaking the silence. Brigitte wants to groan; they had beaten this to death the other day, but when Zarya leans forward eagerly she realizes this is her first time actually hearing the plan.
He's doing this for Zarya's benefit. How thoughtful her Papa is.
"We got two objectives today," he continues, " the first is to take down the Titan, and the second is to shut down the omnium."
Zarya nods, then frowns. "I thought we will destroy the omnium?"
Torbjörn tugs the end of his beard. "Well, you can do that but not until we've shut down the fusion reactor. We render the core inert, then you can blow it up. Until that happens, all you'll wind up doing is blowing yourself right into radioactive dust."
"But, Army General Ivanov said-"
Winston lays a hand on her shoulder. "I know the Army General laid out the plan for you, but I'm afraid he only gave the, uh, 'big picture'. I've been in contact with your army scientists and engineers and we all agree this is the safest way to handle it."
Zarya sits back, cradling her particle cannon. "Oh. I did not know there was so much more to this."
"It is alright, Zarya," Reinhardt speaks up, "it has been my experience that superior officers do not always burden themselves with the finer details of war. They entrust their subordinates to work those out."
Brigitte can hear her father breathe something under his breath about 'not sure nuclear holocaust is a fine detail' but it's too quiet to hear everything. Reinhardt's words seem to help her though, her eyes clear and she leans forward again.
"Anyway, as I was saying, once we get there we have to complete those two objectives. Now, we have two ways of going about it," Torbjörn holds up his claw and taps one pincer with a finger. "One: we can either try to shut down the omnium, then go for the Titan," he taps the other pincer, as if ticking off on his fingers, "or two, we can try to do both at once."
Winston picks up where Torbjörn leaves off. "We think that option two is going to be the safest bet. It's likely that there are still some omnics hanging around the omnium, not to mention the ones being constantly produced. If we get spotted trying to shut down the omnium without having gained control of the Titan, we're likely to have a world of trouble coming our way."
They all nod except Zarya, all of the information is old hat.
"So far we have Torbjörn, Brigitte, Genji and Lúcio set to infiltrate the Titan. The rest of us will head for the omnium, including you Zarya." Winston rifles through a compartment on his jump pack, and pulls out a small black earpiece. "Here, this is for you. It's a commlink set to our private channel. Since you're our only link to the RDF, we'll be relaying information to you through this during the battle to communicate back to them, okay?"
Zarya nods, taking the comm gingerly. It looks so small and fragile in her hands, and she fumbles with it a little before seating it in her ear. Winston shows her how to turn it on and how to use it, and when Zarya ducks her head her voice sounds clearly in Brigitte's ear.
"I like this," she says wonderingly. "Much easier than radios and operators."
Winston smiles. "We have an operator too. Say hi, Athena."
"Athena?" Zarya listens, and her eyes widen in shock. "A robot? Is omnic?"
"Oh, no. She's a computer program. I built her." Winston says, sounding like a proud father.
"Anyway," Torbjörn cuts in, interrupting the moment, "Winston's done his research and we're trusting you to have his back while he powers the omnium down. Once we get that done, the Titan will be disabled and your people can take over. Easy enough?"
Zarya nods again, a crisp motion that bounces her pink fringe. "Yes, thank you."
Plan taken care of, there's not much else to do other than wait for them to get to the dropoff. Brigitte cranes her head, wishing that there were windows on their covered truck. The back is open, but all it affords is a view of their supplies and some trees. There's no way to see the battlefield at all, and the rattles and squeaks of the vehicle drown out any chance of hearing the fight.
The water treatment facility is remote; the roads they're taking are bumpy and unmaintained, unused ever since the omnium shut down all those years ago. There's no way to even tell that they're getting close, at least not until the truck slows and turns into another road.
"We are almost there," Zarya mutters, shifting into alertness. Around her they all shift, eager to get on the move.
The truck cruises for another minute before slowing, turning, and coming to a stop. The engine cuts off.
"Let's go."
Outside Brigitte can see that the sky is turning a burnt orange, the blue-black of the night fading away. The sun is still hiding behind the horizon, but threatens to break through in the next hour. In the distance she can hear something, an odd thudding. The battle must be going.
"Alright, this way." Winston says, loping towards a wide single-story building frosted with snow. They tromp past it, skirting some wide circular holes that might have once been man-made waste ponds. They're headed towards one hole far larger than all the rest, a concrete lagoon.
"In here," he says, hopping into it with a small burst of his jump pack. They follow him down into the depths and he reveals the mouth of a huge tunnel.
Judging by Winston's size relative to the opening, it must be nearly nine feet in diameter; just tall enough to accommodate Reinhard, and wide enough that the smaller members can walk two by two inside.
"Well, that's better'n what I was expecting," Torbjorn says approvingly at the sight of it. "Won't be up to our ankles in sewage at least."
"Musta been a lot of water coming from the omnium, to need drainage that big," Tracer says, peering into the dark hole.
"Mostly graywater," says Winston. "Runoff from the machinery. All of it had to come here to be screened for nuclear contamination. In the event of a meltdown the amount of water needed to avert a nuclear crisis would have overwhelmed any other sewage plant." He sweeps and arm towards the blackness. "Lúcio, if you will?"
"Oh yeah, yeah," Lúcio says, skating to the front of the group and into the mouth of the tunnel. The glow of his suit and skates makes pretty decent lighting, but it doesn't illuminate more than ten feet in any direction. "Uh...anybody got a flashlight?"
"I do!" Brigitte picks through her toolbag and pulls out the mini-mag she always keeps in there, waving it at him. "But don't lose it!" She hands it over to him, and he clicks it on, shining it down the tunnel.
They line up behind him in a train, the shortest and the largest of them right at the front to take advantage of the speed boost's proximity, while the more fleet of foot follow behind.
"Alright everybody, I think we should start slow the first couple yards. Don't want anybody tripping over something in here," Lúcio warns, flipping the amp so it glows green. He raises the volume and as the music washes over them Brigitte can feel the familiar rush of energy take over her body, each muscle taut with the desire to move.
They start by walking, each step quick and light despite the heaviness of her armor. The tunnel is smooth stone, stained dark in places from the water. The clank of their armor echoes as they make their way further in, and after thirty seconds of uninterrupted walking Lúcio's voice comes over the comm.
"Okay, I think it's safe to boost us a little faster. Everybody ready to jog?"
They acknowledge, and Lúcio cranks up the volume on his amp. The bass rolls through the stone tunnel, a beat that Brigitte can feel like the thrumming of her own heart. Energy crackles through her veins, and Brigitte breaks obligingly into a trot though she feels like she could sprint. The energy pounding through her, her team barreling like a locomotive through the sewer, she feels like she could run forever.
Lúcio gives call-outs as they begin to hit the ladders spaced at regular intervals, dodging around them with ease. Even Reinhardt, huge and hulking is fleet enough to skirt by.
They clip along at a respectable pace, and even though Lúcio's boost provides some extra oomph Brigitte can feel her stamina draining after about half an hour of running. As though he can read her mind, Torbjörn calls for a halt when they come to the next ladder.
"Need to check our progress," he says, ascending the ladder. He tips the manhole cover up an inch, peeks out and then lowers it gently.
"Still outside the omnium," he grunts. "Got another bit yet."
Brigitte feels an icy-hot sensation descend from her head down, like someone's cracked an egg on the top of her skull. She recognizes the sensation at the same time that she looks around; it's Mercy's healing beam, replenishing her stamina. The beam flickers between them, topping off their energy before they set off again.
They've only been jogging for another ten minutes when the first sound registers.
"Hold up!" Torbjörn calls, and they clatter to a halt. He cocks his head, listening and Brigitte follows suit. After a few seconds the sound comes again: a hollow coughing thump, followed by the slightest vibration all throughout the tunnel.
"Rockets," Torbjörn says grimly. "We're getting close."
Through the tunnel they go, slowing down to a walk under Torbjörn's direction. The thudding becomes louder and louder until-
BOOM!
Something shakes the tunnel with enough force to send fine grit down on top of them, the sound scaring Brigitte such that she jumps.
"Alright, suits on everyone," Torbjörn says, completely unruffled.
Pulling the shielding on over her armor is tough: it fits snugly now, and as she kneels to help Reinhardt with his she can feel the material stretching taut. When they're all dressed they look like nothing so much as a bunch of old-timey astronauts in silver space suits, except for the weapons they're clutching.
They walk towards the next ladder cautiously, and once again Torbjörn ascends it and peeks through the opening.
"Alright, this is our stop," he says, voice buzzing through the comm. "Change of plans: archer, you're coming with us. Genji, you go with the others."
Hanzo and Genji nod, unquestioning though by Hanzo's expression he looks discomfited. Torbjörn slides aside the heavy manhole cover with a grunt, and then comes back down the ladder.
"There are a few omnics hanging around the direction we need to go," he says to Hanzo. "You think you'll be able to hit targets in that getup?"
Hanzo inspects the mitten-like covering on his hands. "Yes."
"Alright then, you'll be up first. They're due east; you'll see 'em when you get up. The rest of you-" Torbjörn turns to the six remaining agents, "-a bit further down you should come to a maintenance hatch of sorts. Should be big enough to get through, but if you get into any trouble let us know."
"Roger!" Tracer chirps, flashing a salute with a pistol. "You lot take care of yourselves up there!"
"Athena, split-group channels now, please," Winston says.
The sight of the other agents turning to leave triggers a curious sense of loss and worry inside Brigitte. She had known this was coming, that they would have to split up. But now that it's actually time she doesn't want to see them go. She knows that there is a chance that she could never see any of them again.
She reaches out to tug at Reinhards' arm as his back turns toward her, and he pauses, looking back.
"Uh…" she hadn't actually thought of anything to say. What do you say to your best friend if you think it could be the last time you ever see them?
See you soon?
No, that's too flippant.
Be safe?
He already knows that.
I love you?
That one stops her short. Where did that come from? It's true though, he's as dear to her as her own father. But she can't say it, not here in front of the other agents. It would be weird, and besides it sounds too fatalistic.
A hand touches her pauldron. "Brigitte?"
Oh, right.
"Uh-save a few omnics for me, alright? It won't be fair if you guys take them all out yourself!" she calls with mock-bravado, clasping her hand on his forearm.
"Ha-ha! It will be your own fault if you are too slow!" he answers, roaring laughter and clasping her arm back.
"Most kills gets to pick dinner when we get home?" Brigitte says, inspired. A goal. We will make it home.
"You're on!"
She watches his retreating back until her father waves her up the ladder. When she emerges from the hole she can see high gray walls, and the crumpled bodies of three omnics maybe fifteen yards away from them, each with a pale arrow sprouting from their heads.
The boom of the rockets is so much louder up here that it was in the sewer, each burst of fire seeming to shake the very air. Eyes following the direction of the shots, she's stunned to see the Titan right there, almost right on top of them.
It's huge and dark, hanging like a cloud in the pre-dawn; flat metal reflecting the sky in sinister camouflage. Humanoid in shape except for two massive cannons sprouting from its shoulders, it's unmoving except for occasional flashes of red light and bursts of smoke as it rains a hail of projectiles down on the Russians.
Torbjörn waves towards them to follow him down a corridor to the corner of the nearest building. Hanzo peeks around the side first, an arrow nocked in his bow. He draws and fires twice and then nods the all-clear.
Just around the corner is the Titan's foot, large as a bus. It's flat, and angular, just short enough that she and her father will be able to scale it. Brigitte can do nothing but gape at the size of it for a second, eyes following it up and into the heavens. It's so high she has to crane her neck all the way back to take it all in.
She begins to realize the enormity of their task; they're supposed to take down that? All at once she's absurdly grateful that her Papa is there to guide them.
Lúcio speeds them towards the foot and Hanzo scrambles up first, followed by Torbjörn and then Lúcio. Brigitte takes up the rear, darting her eyes around watchfully. She helps boost her father up a hinged ankle joint that's at least a meter high, following hot on his heels to a flat panel on the outer side of it's leg.
"Good, it's still here," Torbjörn remarks and wedges his fingers and claw under the edges of the panel. He lifts it, red light spilling out onto their feet. "Alright, everybody in."
Brigitte has to slide in feet-first, too tall to comfortably hunch her way inside. She slides into the maintenance room, which is barely big enough to fit the four if them. Once inside, they shed their shielding like silver snakeskins, dropping them onto the floor and kicking them out of the way.
There's a yellow-painted ladder ascending the inner portion of the Titan's leg, and Torbjörn gestures at it with a jerk of his claw.
"We'll take this up. There's gonna be sentries up ahead, so keep your weapons ready. Destroy anything that moves, we don't want any alarms being raised," he says, and begins to climb the ladder.
Ugh, ladders.
Brigitte scurries up behind Hanzo, while Lúcio opts to jump from wall to wall, skates clinging gecko-like to whatever they touch. From above the hard punching sound of Torbjörn's rivet gun echoes in the confined space as he meets the first resistance.
Brigitte clambers off the ladder and stands up just in time to see a small dronelike thing flying towards her face, yellow lights beginning to cycle red. She fells it with one swing of her mace and raises her shield, metal shifting as the generators kick on and the blue barrier springs into being.
Another quick blast from Torbjörn's weapon draws her attention, and she turns to see him reducing another drone to pieces with a quick shot. Hanzo picks off the remaining drone with an arrow, then there is silence.
"Expect more things like that ahead," Torbjörn says.
It becomes a rhythm; climb the ladders, destroy drones and cameras, sometimes both at the same time. The Titan is so tall that it takes them almost half an hour before they emerge to a landing surrounded by a network of pipes; these hiss with each concussive burst from the rockets, which inside the Titan sounds like the distant knocking of a fist on metal. The door between them and the control center is painted a bright, cautionary yellow, and to the right of it a palm reader.
Torbjörn unhooks a turret from his back and tosses it squarely in the middle of the landing, bringing it into working order with a few whacks of his hammer.
"That should lead us up to the control center," he says, pointing his claw at the door. "Once we clear that I'll take over."
He goes to the scanner and rips the plating off of it, revealing a nest of cables. Skillfully he strips and clips, exposing the shiny copper insides of two wires. "You'll want to stand clear of the door, and get that shield up!" he calls over his shoulder, and then touches the exposed ends together. There's a spark, and the door slides open.
A flurry of gunfire fills the room with a crazy, bouncing echo. Hanzo and Lúcio duck behind Brigitte's shield, and she can feel the sharp ping of bullets striking it as they ricochet of Torbjörn's turret, which makes quick work of whatever is behind the door.
Once the bullets stop flying they advance forward cautiously, and Brigitte can see the chewed-up corpse of another turret.
"Automatic defenses," Torbjörn grunts and walks inside, kicking the bullet-riddled metal aside. "Should be the only big thing left between us and the control center."
The sentry rotates watchfully as they leave the landing behind, ascending a set of stairs that leads from the split-level landing up to what Brigitte sincerely hopes is the last ladder. This entryway is even smaller than the rest, and the back of her pauldron and breastplate knocks against the protruding pipes as they climb.
"Here we are," Torbjörn says, grimly pleased. They're in a hall lined with identical slate-gray machines festooned with meters and dials, pipes overhead as thick as her waist. One more door faces them and with it another palm-reader.
He takes this one apart in the same way, but this time when the door slides apart there's no turret waiting on the other side. Instead there's the command console and a padded seat angled up to face a massive viewscreen.
"Watch the door," he says, gesturing at them. "Doubt anything'll get past my turret, but you can't be too careful."
He takes a seat and tinkers with the controls, forcing a manual override of the omnic programming. He gazes up into the viewing screen and examines it for a moment, then begins to fire.
"What are you doing?" Hanzo asks sharply.
"Have to move this thing. If it goes down on top of the omnium it's liable to send the whole thing critical, and I can't move it til the other team is done. Gotta play along like it's still attacking." Torbjörn ducks his head, speaking into the comm, "Athena, patch us through to the other group now." A moment's pause, and then, "How's it coming down there?"
Winston's voice crackles in Brigitte's ear, cutting in and out. "Inside the- nium now, we'v- -some resistance."
Torbjörn curses under his breath. "We're stuck for the moment. Once I move it the enemy is going to catch on."
"Can you not just raze them where they stand?" Hanzo asks. "If the Russians cannot destroy this, then how could the omnics?"
Torbjörn shakes his head. "They can't destroy it, but they can override me once they realize what's happened. It'll take them a few minutes, depending on how sophisticated their programs are but I can't risk it."
For the first time today Brigitte feels nervous. Her stomach twists with worry; she wonders how much resistance the other group is facing. She wishes she could be there right now, helping. She hopes someone is watching Reinhardt's blind side.
Stop thinking about it. They've worked with him far longer than you have!
To distract herself she looks at the viewscreen. From this high up she can see the battle clearly; what looks like swarms of black ants advancing from the omnium towards huge barricades set up by the Russians. The snowy field is punctuated by explosions, smoking lumps and flashes of light, but she's too far away to see what's doing it.
Torbjörn is firing the weapons, still keeping up the pretense of being on the attack. Red bolts and rockets hit wide of the barricades, sending huge plumes of snow into the air. Once or twice they strike a little closer than Brigitte expects, showering the RDF's defenses with white.
Hanzo paces the small command room like a tiger, eyes flicking between the viewscreen and the door out. Lúcio surreptitiously boosts his healing aura, and Brigitte can feel the warmth of it trying to smooth the raw edge of her nerves.
Finally, the comm flickers back to life.
"Omniu- -ering down now, you- -lear to go." Winston is still fading in and out, but it sounds like he's giving them the all-clear.
"What?" Torbjörn says, head bowed. "Is that a go?"
"Athena, can you boost the signal at all?" Lucio asks, and receives a soft, almost musical negative.
"It sounded like he said we were clear to go," says Brigitte, a tad nervous. This is one thing she absolutely doesn't want to be wrong about.
"I heard that as well," agrees Hanzo.
"-o for it!" Tracer's voice punches through the static, erasing their doubt.
"Okay, hold on tight!" Torbjörn says, and takes control of the Titan's limbs.
The Titan must have great stabilizers, because even with such monstrously huge steps Brigitte can hardly feel that they're moving. Only the battlefield coming closer and closer in the viewscreen tells her that they must be travelling a great distance. They rush toward the battle, and as they do Torbjorn calls out: "Okay, I'm goin' ta bring it down just past the omnic line. There's an emergency exit on the roof, I'll spring it just 'afore we're grounded!"
"Right on!" Lucio says, and then adds, "do some damage before we go!"
"Yeah, yeah, on it."
Scant seconds later they're on top of a swarm of omnics. The massive feet of the Titan come down on their milling bodies with a screeching crunch of metal, and not even the stabilizers can compensate for the uneven terrain. Torbjörn wheels the Titan before they can go down, taking it west along the omnic line, crushing and shooting as he goes. Red beams burn huge swathes along the ground, tearing up snow and dirt and obliterating everything in its path.
The Titan wrecks havoc on the enemy line for another minute before Torbjörn pushes them towards the RDF line with a grunt. "They're trying to take it back. Time to go." He brings the Titan to its knees and props its cannons against the ground, locking them to prevent them from toppling forward and then pushes a fat red button on the left side of the console.
There's an explosive blast of air as a hatch above them blows open, and a ladder telescopes down, hitting the floor with a clunk. Torbjorn squeezes a sliding lever just to the right of the seat, pushing it forward until it sits as far forward as it'll go, and there's a hollow sound as the Titan powers down.
"Ejecting the power core," Torbjorn says over the comm, pulling a yellow-striped handle out of the console, rotating it and then pushing it back in. "Now they can't just bring it back online. Alright you lot, up the ladder."
"Exiting the Titan now," Hanzo warns, and then scampers up. Everyone else follows suit, and when Brigitte emerges out into the cloudy pink-shot sky she's momentarily struck by vertigo when she peers over the edge of the Titan. Even bent in half it has to be at least twenty meters to the ground.
She watches Hanzo clamber down, agile as a dragonfly with Lúcio following more slowly in his wake, weaving back and forth like a skier down the humped mountain of the Titan's body. She and her father shuffle down using the raised plate ridges at footholds until the angle becomes too steep. Transitioning to scooting along on their butts isn't dignified, but it is more secure.
Brigitte winces as her armor screeches against the hull, thinking about all the buffing and re-painting she's going to have to do later. Near the edge the descent becomes near-vertical. There's two options here: make a jump for one of the Titan's protruding ankles, or a drop straight to the ground.
She opts to jump for the ankle, dangling herself from a ledge before freefalling the remaining six feet and landing hard. A shock of pain runs up her legs, but when she tests them she can't find anything broken. She turns back to wait for her father.
Just in time to see him miscalculate his jump, hit the edge of the Titan's ankle and fall.
It's a long way to the ground. Brigitte watches it happen, as if in slow-motion. Her arm reaches out, but she's too far away to grab him. He goes past, silent, but she can see his eye widening, a pale hazel ring of dawning fear.
A wave of sound crashes over her, under her, around her and Lúcio cuts below them in a green flash. A shockwave of sound blasts Torbjörn from below, stopping his descent dead three meters from the ground before gravity takes over and he falls the rest of the way down.
"Papa!" she cries, unable to help herself. She runs the rest of the way down the Titan's leg, jumping from its foot and rolling to absorb her momentum in a mad dash to her father.
Hanzo and Lúcio are already at his side, helping him to his feet when she reaches him.
"Are you okay?" she asks, frantic, touching his arm.
There's snow all over his beard and he's wincing like something hurts, but he stretches and turns, testing his limits even as Lúcio switches his song, a warm rush of music soothing away the lingering sparks of pain in Brigitte's legs.
"Ye, I'm alright," Torbjörn answers, arching his back. "Nothin' broken. A bit of a hard landing, but it could've been worse." He turns to Lúcio. "Thanks. I'll be owin' ya a drink when we get back, for savin' my sorry hide."
Lúcio rubs a hand on his neck, bashful at the gratitude. "Not a problem, man." He's saved further awkwardness when Genji's voice comes over the comm.
"We are headed out of the omnium now," he says, and this time the transmission is crystal-clear. "I have eyes on your position."
"Acknowledged," Hanzo replies. He casts a questioning glance at Torbjörn. "Should we go to meet them?"
"Wouldn't hurt," Torbjörn grunts. "I'm fine to get a move on."
Lúcio switches them to speed, and then instantly cringes when he tries to move forward. "Aw man, these are not made for snow." He clomps along, kicking up sprays of white.
Brigitte hadn't realized at the time how much distance from the omnium they had gained; they must have covered at least two kilometers. The others are specks so tiny she can barely see them. Genji must have eyes like a hawk.
Minutes later they've drawn close enough to be within shouting distance. Reinhardt charges the final ten yards toward them like a bullet train, cutting off his rockets scant feet in front of them and showering them with snow.
"Well done my friends!" He booms, swinging his hammer head-down and leaning on it like a walking stick.
Winston lands next to him, a hard thump in the snow. "Did you guys have any trouble?"
"Nothing we couldn't handle," Torbjörn says, reloading his rivet gun. "Sounds like you did though. Transmission was pretty spotty there for awhile."
"I think something in the Titan might have been disrupting the signal," Winston says. "Once you guys were out you came through loud and clear."
Mercy wings toward them, a boost from her Valkyrie suit taking her to Winston's side at the same moment that Tracer blinks up to them. McCree lags behind, puffing and blowing breaths like an old bellows.
"God-damn," he pants as he finally makes it to them, bent over his knees, "I need to take up joggin'."
Now that they're together again Brigitte feels like she can breathe easier. Tension slips from her, and at once she becomes aware of the steady chatter of gunfire in the distance. The RDF is still mopping up the stragglers.
"So," she says to Reinhardt with a grin. "Looks like I might win." She gestures to the swathe of metal corpses, crushed in the wake of their attack. "I think we had to have killed at least two hundred."
"That does not count!" Reinhardt protests, elbowing her good-naturedly. "Individual kills!" She rolls her eyes, and turns to see Zarya fiddling with her radio. The barks something into it that Brigitte can't understand, and after a few seconds a staticky reply filters through.
"There is something wrong," she says, frowning. "They say there are lights coming from the omnium."
Everyone turns to Winston, except for Genji who looks back the way they had come.
"We only shut down the reactor, correct?" Mercy says, "Not the whole plant?"
"Right," Winston agrees, pulling out his pad.
"So, lights would not be unusual?"
"I don't believe so. Some of the machines may still be on backup generators anyway."
Zarya relays this through the radio.
"Should we go back?" Tracer asks.
"I don't think-"
"Something is happening," Genji interrupts, low and urgent at the same moment that Zarya's radio crackles again.
Brigitte turns to look where Genji is staring. The omnium is situated on a slight slope, so it takes a moment before she sees it. What she thought were the gray walls of the omnium are moving, elongating down the hill.
A wave of omnics pours towards them, red eyes glowing in the dawn.