As someone wise once said, "There is a quiet dread before battle." It comes from the secret fear of knowing what your enemy is capable of doing to you.
But it is important to put fears aside and remember why we fight.
~ Isaia, "The Face of the Enemy"
"Athena, split channels please."
Now they are truly separated. There will be no cross-chatter while they go their own ways, until they are again reunited. Reinhardt turns to follow his team down the tunnel and feels something touch his arm.
Looking back he sees it is Brigitte.
"Uh…"
She looks like she wants to say something. The silence draws out, unbroken as he waits for her to speak. Her face is a mixture of emotions he cannot untangle, but which he understands perfectly. She is afraid of the separation.
Reinhardt feels a touch of fondness for her, and reaches out to touch her pauldron. "Brigitte?"
She starts, pulled out of her thoughts. "Uh - save a few omnics for me, alright? It won't be fair if you guys take them all out yourself!" She smiles at him, clasping his forearm. He feels a curious mental doubling, as if a memory is overlaying his vision.
Live with honor.
"Ha-ha! It will be your own fault if you are too slow!" he exclaims with alaugh, gripping back firmly.
"Most kills gets to pick dinner when we get home?" she asks. A contest? He cannot resist such a wager!
"You're on!"
Their groups separate, half of them disappearing up the open manhole cover while the rest of them walk towards their exit point. Reinhardt's team is unhurried, planning on giving the other group time to infiltrate the Titan before they themselves enter the omnium.
They walk for ten minutes until at last the manholes disappear and they are left walking down a tunnel that dead-ends in two enormous steel doors. The steel has long since rusted, and when Winston wrenches at the handles they give way with a screech and an explosion of rust.
"Uh, that might have alerted every omnic within a kilometer," Tracer jokes as Winston wipes reddish particles from the clear visor of his suit.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to pull that hard."
Tracer leads, first peeking her head out the door and then dashing into the omnium. She returns in a blink, space-time warping in a flash as she rematerializes. "There are a couple omnics scattered in each direction," she says. "Nothing I think we couldn't handle. Lead the way, big guy."
Winston heads out, followed closely by Reinhardt. Bound as they are by the IR shielding, he has no access to his shield. He will have to rely on his hammer and the skill of his companions, who are likewise hampered.
They round the corner of the building. Tracer leaps ahead to blast one of the two omnics stationed there right in the back of it's processor. It goes down in a heap, while Genji finishes off the other with a swift swing of his sword.
There is no other sign of omnic motion, though that means little. Reinhardt cannot hear much within this suit, so he glances around often as they make their way to the center of the omnium. He tries not to look at the behemoth hovering over them, or wonder if they are about to wind up smashed into the concrete. He wonders how the others are doing.
"This is it," Winston says, indicating a tall central building that sprawls across a good portion of the omnium. They make for a set of doors that bear a symbol very familiar to Reinhardt; the yellow and black fanlike trefoil.
[DANGER: IONIZING RADIATION] is printed on the door in large block letters.
Winston jiggles the door handles, which do not shift. It is locked. He pulls at them, to little effect. He raps a hand lightly on them, as though politely asking for entry, and the dull sound that the motion elicits tells Reinhardt that the doors are thick, heavy-duty metal.
This is an obstacle they had considered - a door that they cannot open. They pause, waiting for the sign.
After several long minutes, it comes. The volley of explosions coming from the TItan pauses for a moment, then resumes. Their cadence has changed slightly, with longer pauses between each assault. Athena's voice sings through their headsets: Torbjörn has taken control of the Titan.
"Great!" exclaims Tracer, poised to unzip her suit. "That means we can take these off now, right?"
Winston nods, unzipping his carefully and stepping free. When it spurs no attack from the Titan, he gives everyone else the thumbs up.
Getting into his suit had been enough of a hassle as it was, and Reinhardt asks for Genji's assistance in getting rid of his. With three neat slices, the suit falls away from him and he can pull off the visor. He hadn't realized how unbearably hot it had become in the shielding until the cold Siberian air begins to filter through the minute breaks in his suit.
"Reinhardt?" Winston turns to him, gesturing towards the door. "if you will?"
He will be glad to.
Reinhardt charges through the doors like a bull released from its cage, and the hinges give way before the lock does. The doors are ripped off the concrete in one neat slab. He cuts his momentum and sees that he's mowed down two omnics that were just on the other side of the threshold. The red glow of eyes on him lets him know that they are not alone.
"More omnics in here!" he shouts, bringing his hammer down on the closest of them.
Tracer buzzes in after him, the rapid chatter of her pulse gun a counterpoint to the hard click of McCree's six-shooter as he rolls in after her, shots finding their marks. Zarya fires up her own gun in a burst of purple, a dazzling beam of light as sharp as a laser burning the first omnic she gets close to.
Genji and Winston bound ahead, scaling walls and walkways to hunt down omnics from above, while Mercy wings after them on a glowing tether.
"How- it -ing down there?"
Torbjörn's voice is on the comm now, fuzzy with interference. He must have re-established the group link.
It is Winston who answers, puffing as he leaps from a walkway onto the head of an omnic aiming for Mercy. ""Inside the omnium now, we've met some resistance."
No answer from the other end. Perhaps their connection has dropped. Does the ionizing radiation interfere with transmission? Reinhardt doesn't worry about it, too focused on crushing the opposition.
Mopping up the omnics inside takes them some time, though the enemy is too scattered to form a coherent opposition. Their teamwork is impeccable. Even Zarya, who has never trained with them learns quickly how to avoid zapping the more mobile members of their group. She stands, particle cannon at the ready and looking satisfied at the singed wreckage of an omnic she has destroyed.
"Alright everyone, give me a few minutes. I'm headed to the control room," Winston says, disappearing.
Now it is up to him.
Reinhardt waits, poised to act in case any more enemies emerge, but none are forthcoming. The RDF has thoroughly distracted the ones outside. In the silence, there is nothing to do but wait.
To one side Zarya fiddles with her gun, inspecting a glowing plate on its top. He goes to her, watching curiously.
"You have a fine weapon," he says. "I have not seen anything like it before!"
"Thank you," she rests the tip of her weapon on the floor. "It is new technology, very effective. Not strong at long range though."
Reinhardt laughs and waggles her hammer. "I can understand that!"
Zarya smiles, fingering the trigger of her weapon. "I prefer the close fight. It is better, to meet your enemy face-to-face and best them."
Ah, so her attitude towards war matches his own. He nods his agreement.
"None of these tactics the omnics use. Attacking at night, while people are sleeping. To fight when your opponent is unaware, it is wrong," Zarya continues. From the tone of her voice, Reinhardt thinks that she may be talking about something other than just the war. He remembers the armed guards, following them everywhere throughout the camp. Guards stationed outside their tent all night. Guns loosely cradled everywhere they went.
He leans in closer, lowering his voice. "Has something happened, Zarya?"
Her eyes widen, a flash of guilt and surprise crossing her face. "What do you mean?" she says. Whatever it is it must be bothering her greatly, but it seems she is reluctant to talk about it. He may have to coax it out of her.
"I had noticed how well-guarded we were upon arrival," he said carefully. He hazards a guess. "Have the omnics been attacking at night?"
"They attack day and night," Zarya answers. "The enemy does not sleep." Reinhardt notices that it is not precisely an answer to his question, and prys further.
"What dishonorable thing have they done?" he says, thinking hard. War omnics do not understand the concept of honor or fairness. Even if they did, they have chosen to shirk such qualities in every engagement Reinhardt has experienced. So what could they have done that would shock Zarya in this way?
The corner of Zarya's mouth draws down, bespeaking of her inner conflict. "I am not supposed to talk of it," she says slowly.
Reinhardt, sensing an opening presses again. "Zarya, you must know that we of Overwatch operate outside the jurisdiction of any nation. We do not trade secrets, or spread information outside the organization. Whatever has happened, perhaps if we know we can find a way to help."
Zarya is silent for a moment. From the twitch of her eyes back and forth, Reinhardt can see that she is considering his words carefully. He waits, letting the silence fall comfortably between them. Any interruption at this juncture will drive her away. He goes back to watching Mercy, who is talking quietly with an alert Genji. McCree is refilling his empty speedloaders, and Tracer stands poised at the doorway, peering outside.
At long last, Zarya speaks.
"There was an attack," she says, so quietly that he has to lean in closer to hear. "About a month ago. Assassins came, they tried to kill Katya Volskaya."
Alarms go off in Reinhardt's head. Assassins? It may be his history with them, but anytime he hears 'assassins' he immediately thinks 'Talon'. He searches his memory, trying to place this Katya Volskaya. The way Zarya speaks her name, he feels he should know her, but he comes up blank.
"Who is Katya Volskaya?" he asks.
Zarya looks at him, a hand absentmindedly stroking the handle of her weapon. "She is the hero of the Russian people. Our defender against omnics. She gave us the svyatogors."
This is all news to Reinhardt. During the Omnic Crisis, Russia had steadfastly refused all offers of assistance. They had kept the news of their casualties, and their victories silent. It had been a great surprise to him when the word came that they had managed to defeat the omnic armies advancing on their cities. This closed-lipped past meant that he knew little of the methods that the Russian Defense Force had used to overcome the omnic threat...but now, he had a window in. This Katya Volskaya, she must have had a big hand in either designing or manufacturing the giant mechs he had seen in camp.
"So, assassins came?" he says. "Do you know what they looked like? How many?"
Zarya nods. "There were three that came. One that disabled the machinery in Volskaya Industries, one that disappeared and reappeared like smoke, and one marksman who no one saw. The sniper missed the shot, slava bogu."
The alarm bells are clanging now. An intruder that can vanish like the wind? A sniper? It must be Talon. But why?
"I believe I may know who attempted this assassination," he says. "I cannot be certain, but it sounds very much like the work of Talon. They are a known terrorist organization, who have opposed Overwatch for years."
"Talon? What -" Zarya begins, but is interrupted when the reactor makes a strange sound. A loud hum like an airplane's engines vibrates the building for several seconds before dwindling back into silence. The lights inside flicker. Somewhere above, a door bangs open and Winston leaps down to join them.
"You got it?" Tracer says excitedly, dashing in circles around him.
"Yes!" Winston says, and ducks his head "Omnium powering down, you're clear to go."
That's the cue for the other team to leap into action, taking the Titan away from its guarding place and down towards the battlefield.
"What?" Torbjörn's voice again, the static thicker now. " -tha - go?"
"We seem to be experiencing technical difficulties," Genji says. "Perhaps we should get closer." He steps out of the building, perhaps thinking that less walls between them and the others will aid their communication. The rest of the group follows him. Reinhardt looks up at the Titan, wishing there were a window that they could signal through.
"I don't know," says Winston fretfully. "Athena, can you track -"
"Go for it!" Tracer interrupts, elongating and shouting the words into the comm as though she can punch them through the earpiece with the force of her will.
Silence. Did it go through?
Zarya gasps as the Titan, which until then had been still suddenly lurches into motion. With great, earth-eating strides it leaves them behind, headed directly towards the battlefield. Message received.
"Do not worry," Reinhardt reassures her. "Torbjörn has it under control." He can hear a distinct change in the frequency of the shots coming from the battlefield as the Titan approaches, and adds, "you may want to let your superiors know that."
Zarya nods and interrupts the chatter coming from her radio to bark the information while the rest of the team follows the Titan in hot pursuit, exiting the omnium at high speed.
Even though he knows it is Torbjörn piloting the Titan, Reinhardt still feels a frisson of awe and fear at the sight of it in action. The ground shakes with each step the Titan takes, toppling omnics into the snow as it comes up on them. Then Torbjörn begins to fire the guns.
"Wow!" Tracer breathes, watching the carnage unfolding.
"I do not think they will need our help," Genji says, amused. "A pity." He sheathes his blade and begins to jog towards the fight. Mercy shakes her head at his enthusiasm.
It doesn't take long for the Titan to turn the battlefield into a wasteland. Massive feet have churned the snow and dirt into mud, and the Titan's powerful guns have left smoking pits everywhere. The enemy is almost completely decimated by the time Torbjörn sets the omnic down a few hundred yards from the barricades.
"We are headed out of the omnium now," Genji tells them. "I have eyes on your position."
The running forms of the other team are tiny and distant at first. When at last they're within hailing distance, Reinhardt can't stop himself from grinning like a lunatic under his helm. He cheerily charges the remaining distance, showering them in a spray of snow.
"Well done my friends!" he exclaims.
Winston lands at his side. "Did you guys have any trouble?"
Torbjörn reloads his rivet gun, seeming almost bored. "Nothing we couldn't handle." He looks up at them, raising an eyebrow. "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."
The rest of his team filtering to join him, Reinhardt feels pride swelling in his chest. They had done well, had achieved their goal in good time, and with no injuries.
Brigitte sidles up to him. "So," she says with a smug grin, "looks like I might win." She gestures to the utter destruction on the battlefield. "I think we had to have killed at least two hundred."
He should have guessed she would try to rig the contest in her favor, the cheeky devil. "That does not count!" he protests, elbowing her good-naturedly. "Individual kills!" Already he has at least a dozen. How many could they have encountered within the Titan? It is he who will come out on top!
Behind him, Zarya's concerned voice. "There is something wrong," she says, frowning. "They say there are lights coming from the omnium." She cranks up the volume on her radio.
Reinhardt turns to Winston for an explanation.
"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?"
Reinhardt does not think so. He is far from a nuclear engineer, but he understands the simple premise of multiple power sources.
"I don't believe so. Some of the machines may still be on backup generators anyway." Winston elaborates, pursing his lips.
Zarya relays this through the radio.
"Should we go back?" Tracer asks, looking over her shoulder.
"I don't think-"
"Something is happening," Genji interrupts, low and urgent at the same moment that Zarya's radio crackles again.
Reinhardt turns to look back. The omnium is situated on a slight slope, and his eyes are not what they used to be. It takes him a moment to spot it - a tide of movement, like a living wall.
A wave of omnics pours towards them, red eyes glowing in the dawn.
"Winston?" McCree's voice, pitched in alarm.
Reinhardt turns to face this new threat. He may be confused, he may not understand why - but all that rolls off him, forgotten. Right now it does not matter how the omnics came to be, or why now. All that matters is that they rise to meet this new challenge; it will be up to the team as to how.
"Where the blooming hell did all those come from?" Tracer says, aghast. "Were they always in there?"
"No wonder their numbers seem endless," Zarya mutters.
A reserve force? A reserve army? It matters little. Whatever it is, it is in their way now.
"I just don't get it," Winston says, frantically typing on his pad. "Everything I found said all I needed to do was activate the nullification protocols."
"Did those manuals n' whatnot say anythin' about failsafes?" Torbjörn asks.
"Failsafes? Some of them did mention the -" Winston pauses, eyes going almost comically wide. "Shit."
Now that is a word Reinhardt has never heard out of his mouth before.
Winston's shoulders slump, like a great, invisible hand has pressed him into the ground. "Oh my - I can't believe I didn't think of the -" he mumbles to himself, one huge palm pressed to the side of his face, "- the possible failsafes." He sighs aloud. "Ugh. I'm so sorry everyone."
"Don't worry about it, big guy!" Tracer says, keen to soothe him. "We all make mistakes!"
"Yes," Reinhardt agrees. "Do not be too hard on yourself, Winston."
"Yeah, it's all fine n' dandy, that mistake-makin'. I did it a time or two myself. What matters is what we c'n do to fix it," McCree says.
"Can you remember the failsafes, and how to disable 'em?" Torbjörn asks, eyeing the advancing army. "If not, can Athena figure it out for you?" Reinhardt admires how well his friend counterbalances Winston. He's a great leader in his own right, offering steps towards a decision as effectively as Ana ever did.
"Yes…" Winston says. He sits upright, shoulders straightening as his considerable brain begins to work out a solution. "Yes. I think that might work." He looks at Zarya. "I'm sorry Zarya, but we're going to have to get back into the omnium."
Zarya shrugs, unperturbed. She is as battle-hardened a warrior as any Reinhardt has ever seen, accepting this rapid change of plans without so much as blinking.
"Okay, new plan," says Winston, addressing the group at large now. "We get back in, disable the fail-safes, and go out the way we came in - through the sewer. Then Zarya's people can commence with the bombing."
Zarya nods and begins to relay the plan over her radio.
McCree shrugs. "Sure, how hard could it be?" he says, gesturing at the mass of advancing omnics.
Winston frowns as the first bullets begin to dig into the snow yards ahead of them. Reinhardt puts up his shield as a precaution.
"It will be easiest if we flank them," Reinhardt suggests, though he feels the first twinges of doubt. He has not faced an army like this for more than a decade, on the blood-soaked fields surrounding Stuttgard. Even at the height of their strength Overwatch had not faced a force like this head-on, preferring the guerrilla tactics of warfare.
Behind him there is a quiet yet animated conversation going on between the Shimada brothers. Reinhardt turns his head slightly to see Genji pointing at the mass of omnics, gesturing from his sword to Hanzo's bow and back. Hanzo is shaking his, evidently disagreeing. He can only guess at what they are saying, not understanding Japanese, but from the tone it sounds like Genji wants Hanzo to do something.
"Athena, conduct an analysis of possible nuclear fail-safes," says Winston.
The omnics are steadily advancing. They're stuck in limbo, waiting. Should they move now, or wait until the force has arrived and spread, offering them an opening?"
"Okay, listen up!" says Winston. "We're going to do like Reinhardt suggested and flank them, wide left. Hold off on firing until it looks like they're coming after us, we want to preserve our ammo if possible, alright?"
There is a chorus of agreement, and the team bunches behind Reinhardt's shield.
Lúcio switches them to speed and Winston directs them forward. They move cautiously, the speed boost keeping their footsteps light and quick through the thick snow. The omnic army is at least a two hundred yards from them, most of its attention still intent on the barrage coming from the RDF's line.
Reinhardt feels the boom of the Russian's walkers unleashing salvo after salvo of explosive rounds into the enemy. It resonates through his armor, vibrating him like a tuning fork. The shots have distressingly little effect. The omnics march on, steamrolling the bodies of their fallen on their collision course with the Russian barricades.
Reinhardt's team is now walking parallel to the omnic horde. They are mostly being ignored for now, though a smattering of bullets still comes their way. He has to turn his body awkwardly across his body keep the barrier between them and the danger.
If they are lucky, they will not have to confront the omnics until they get closer to the omnium. They are hardly inconspicuous - his shield glows brightly in the dull shade of the dawn, after all - but as of yet they pose no threat. It had been a technique that worked once upon a time in the first skirmishes of the Omnic Crisis, before the machines had learned. Do these omnics still retain those memories?
They are not lucky. It is McCree, bringing up the rear who notices it first.
"Uh, fellas," he says warningly, "I think they're cuttin' us off."
Reinhardt chances a look back to see a tendril of black extending from the body of the army, now forming a barrier between them and the RDF's lines. The jerky red bounce of the omnics visual processors is familiar, insidious. The enemy is stalking them.
"Hold steady," Winston says, voice taught.
The omnics are not advancing as the speed that their group is moving, thanks to Lúcio's technology. This affords Reinhardt some measure of comfort, but he knows that if the main body of the army turns its attention towards them, that can quickly change.
They make it nearly a kilometer before all hell breaks loose.
The occasional plink of bullets off Reinhardt's shield becomes a hail, the wall of omnics parallel to their course have finally turned their attention towards them.
"Let's go!" Torbjörn and Winston say almost simultaneously, and the group breaks into a run as Lúcio cranks up the speed.
"I can't - aim- like this -" McCree pants from behind Reinhardt. Reinhardt can hardly run like this, contorted as he is to keep up his shield.
"Do you want to try to push through?" Tracer asks, speeding along next to Winston.
"We're going to have to " Winston says grimly. "We can't lose our momentum."
They push their way through the snow, the towering form of the omnium creeping ever closer. The morning sun has begun to peek through the dense cloud cover, sending pink light cascading over the top of the building.
Red sky at morning, sailor's warning.
The nonsensical, ancient rhyme comes to Reinhardt suddenly as he pants and clanks towards the looming structure. He wonders what a pink sky meant to those long-ago mariners.
The crack and boom of the ongoing fight is so loud that at first he doesn't hear it. "Stop! McCree is down!" Mercy's voice over the comm, urgent and low. He turns, his heart dropping as he sees the brown form crumpled in the snow. Brigitte kneels behind him, shielding him from rearward gunfire while Mercy's wings glow over him. He retreats, the team shuffling with him until they form a shielded perimeter around their downed comrade.
"What has happened?" Hanzo barks, loosing an arrow at the advancing horde. Reinhardt glances back again, but he cannot see much through the crush of bodies surrounding McCree. He cannot tell if the flash of red he spies is blood, or McCree's serape.
"I been shot," McCree groans.
"Leg wound," Mercy says, all business. "I cannot treat it here. I will have to bandage it."
"We have to move him soon," Torbjörn says. "They're comin'."
They are coming. As the black mass of omnics pushes ever closer and his shield begins to crack under the onslought of bullets, Reinhardt begins to think that the best plan of action would be a full retreat. They can return through the sewer tomorrow and finish the job. Advancing through enemies this numerous and dangerous would be nearly suicidal.
"Patched up, for the moment," Mercy says. "Winston, I think we should consider retreating."
"My barrier is failing," Reinhardt warns as another crack appears on the blue matrix. "Whatever we do, we must do it soon."
"Zarya?" Winston says, turning to her. "Can your people handle this for another twenty hours?"
Zarya turns, shaking her head. "We will have to pull back our camp. We do not have enough svyatogors for this." She reaches for her radio.
"Reinhardt, brace yourself!" Genji's voice sounds in his ears, and Reinhardt instinctively does so just as he feels an impact on his shoulders. Genji vaults off of him, springing to a superhuman height and drawing his blade with a furious yell as he dives right at the swarm.
"Genji!" Hanzo roars, but it is too late.
Green light flares from amidst the horde, Genji's visor and blade glowing like a spectral storm as he slices and slashes. As the bodies begin to fall Reinhardt can see that Genji is cutting a path for them, and yells his observation over the comm. Genji has almost completely diverted the omnics attention.
"Let's go!" Winston says, bounding forward over the crumpled omnics.
"Reinhardt, would you grab McCree?" asks Mercy. McCree still sits in the snow, one pant leg tucked up to his knee. The bandage there is already beginning to stain red.
At his affirmation she follows Winston into the air, Caduceus beam seeming to stretch like a bungee cord as she wings after him. Winston's mammoth jump takes him over the remaining mass of omnics right to the mouth of the omnium, and Reinhardt can see a dome of light spring into being there. Winston's own shield.
Reinhardt reaches for the hobbled McCree. If they're making a break for the mouth of the omnium, he's going to charge right for it.
"Hey, I c'n still-" McCree starts, and then squawks as Reinhardt hauls him up and over his shoulder.
"Cover your head!" Reinhardt warns, firing up his rocket and hunkering low. He slings his hammer up and over the shoulder that isn't burdened by McCree, bringing his elbow up to shield the gunslinger's legs as he charges.
Omnic pieces fly as his sabatons cut through wreckage like the prow of a ship, but even with all the power of his rocket he is forced to cut his charge short twenty meters from the mouth of the omnium. The snow is thick, the terrain too steep. The risk of digging in far too great, especially with his precious cargo. He lurches the remaining distance, swinging his hammer one-handed at any omnics that venture too close.
Winston's bubble is beginning to crack just as he arrives. Mercy is darting back and forth within its confines with her blaster out, shooting omnics at the mouth of the omnium while Winston chases down the stragglers further inside. He jolts them with his Tesla cannon and then smashing them to pieces.
The blaster disappears into its holster as Reinhardt arrives, her beam flickering to life between them like a glowing umbilical cord. Reinhardt feels energy flowing into him, wiping away his fatigue. He turns, sets down McCree, and puts up his shield just as Winston's barrier breaks.
Brigitte, Torbjörn, Zarya and Lúcio are still on the battlefield, making their way towards him. Tracer has flanked to his right, picking off the omnics that have been separated from the body of the army by Genji's wild assault. Hanzo is already behind Reinhardt's shield, arrows finding their targets unerringly.
It feels like years that Reinhardt watches them run, helpless to do anything but hold up his shield. His good eye works with dreadful efficiency, highlighting the flash of Zarya's weapon cutting like a laser through any opposition, the glow of Lúcio's Crossfade suit as he lopes through the snow, the bounce of Torbjörn's beard as the group careens like a cannonball through the brief opening in the enemy's ranks.
And Brigitte, auburn hair swinging, shield held out as Reinhardt had done, protecting their right flank from any crossfire. Reinhardt feels palpable relief when they cross the threshold of the omnium and dive behind his shield. They are all safe. Except…
"Koko ni modotte kite!" Hanzo barks over the comm, a statement that means nothing to Reinhardt but which shifts the attention of the fury of green coming from the battlefield.
Genji breaches from the mass of gray like a leaping dolphin, sprinting towards them and slicing as he comes. He darts behind the curve of Reinhardt's shield and sheathes his blade, dousing the otherworldly viridescent light.
In the wake of his attack Genji drops into a half-kneeling position. Steam billows from his vents as Mercy turns her beam on him, alternating her attention between him and McCree, trying to keep them both on their feet. Hanzo bounds to Genji's side. He bends low to mutter something softly to his brother. His hand hovers over one of Genji's vents, as if collecting the heat.
"We must go," Genji says, fatigue evident in his voice. "I will be fine."
"Which way?" Lúcio asks.
In a blue flash Tracer is back with them, waving her pistol towards the rear of the omnium. "This way!"
"Alright, let's get under some cover!" Lúcio says, cranking his amp. A wash of sound takes them, and they follow Tracer into the maze of walls. They pack in strategically: the weakest at the center, Reinhardt at the front and Brigitte bringing up the rear.
Their progress into the omnium is significantly faster than their progress out had been, thanks to Lúcio. They take the final turn and see the blasted-out door that leads into the reactor and squeeze through it. For the moment they have lost their pursuers, but Reinhardt does not think they will stay ahead for long.
Winston seems to know what he's looking for, because he instantly heads back upstairs.
Reinhardt tries to pick the door up and wedge it into the hole, but it topples to the ground, unable to stand. It will have to be propped up manually. He hopes to use it as a disguise, a way to buy some time before the omnics discover them.
"I'm gonna try and find another exit," Tracer says, and runs off.
Silence spreads over them as they wait. Torbjörn sets up a turret on a walkway adjacent to the door. Lúcio flips a switch on his amp, pulsing cheery yellow warmth over them. Mercy has her beam on McCree and is rolling up his pantleg again, exposing the bloodstained bandage. She unwraps it, revealing a neat black hole that she probes gently. Even as he watches, Reinhardt can see the edges of the wound knitting, pulling themselves closed as she forces his body to heal.
"It looks like a clean entry and exit," she says, inspecting the backside of his calf. "I cannot say for sure if you have damaged the bone."
"M'fine," McCree says, puffing bravado. "I've had worse. Give Genji a lil' attention, he really pushed himself out there."
"Are you alright?" Reinhardt looks to his right to see Brigitte standing there looking up at him. Her hair is disheveled, coming down from its ponytail. Strands stick to her sweaty cheeks. Strange, how warm they are in this frozen Siberian tundra. She inspects the new dings and scratches on his armor with a frown.
"Me? I am fine," he says, tapping his breastplate. "Though I think it is I who should be asking you that question."
Brigitte looks down at her own armor, as if seeing the damage there for the first time. "Aw man!" She says, poking at a particularly deep score in the metal. "It's going to take forever to buff this out."
"Not that," Reinhardt says, pointing at her unprotected head. "That. You need to make yourself a helm!"
Brigitte touches her head, feels her hair, and slips off her gauntlets to quickly fix her ponytail. "I don't want a helm though. It won't fit with my hair. And don't tell me to cut it all off!"
Zarya paces towards them, holstering her radio. Brigitte and Reinhardt look at her as she meets their eyes grimly. "They tell me that much of the omnics have withdrawn to the omnium. They are coming for us."
Brigitte sucks in a breath nervously and relays the message over the comm. Reinhardt's mind races, planning, strategizing. The advantage of the omnium is that there are many choke points through which the enemy will be hampered. Straight corridors that his firestrike can mow them down in lines. However, the omnics can wear them down by sheer numbers if they cannot dispose of them fast enough.
"What is the RDF's plan?" he asks Zarya. "Will they move the barricades? Pursue?"
Zarya shakes her head. "I do not think so. I can ask them to send backup, but I do not think they want to get close. They must have distance, to bomb the omnium."
Reinhardt grits his teeth in frustration. The RDF will not have the opportunity to bomb the omnium if they do not ensure Overwatch enough time to deactivate the reactor! He does not know if there is any way for Zarya to relay that to her superiors though, so he keeps silent. He trusts Winston, he will find a way to disable it.
In the distance, the sound of metal on stone. The mass of the army moves like a centipede, its many feet grating and clicking as it comes ever closer. Reinhardt can only guess as to how long it will be before they are here; from the sound of it, he thinks less than ten minutes. "The army is at our doorstep," he says. "Winston, once they arrive I do not think we will be able to hold them off for more than twenty minutes."
"Gotcha," comes the reply. Reinhardt can hear furious clicking in the background. Is Winston infiltrating the computer system? "I think I only need a few more minutes. Hang tight, everybody."
They hold tight.
Torbjörn has finished assembling his turret. Mercy is inspecting the pink scar on McCree's leg with an approving look as he tests his weight on it. Hanzo stands next to Genji, bow cradled loosely as he tries to surreptitiously inspect his vents. Lúcio shifts back and forth on his skates, as if uncertain of what to do. From the back of the omnium Tracer re-emerges, dashing towards them.
"I found another way out," she says excitedly. "I think we can give 'em the slip that way if they find us here."
"That is great news!" Reinhardt exclaims, feeling a small measure of relief. "Can you tell where the sewer entrance is from there?"
"Ah - maybe." Tracer pauses, thinking. "Athena, can you pinpoint an earlier location and give me coordinates, based on where we are now?"
Ah, he never thinks to ask Athena these things. "Athena, I would like to know as well," he says into his comm.
"Certainly." Athena's cool voice rings in his ear. "My satellites estimate that your desired location is due northeast, approximately twenty-seven yards. I can provide directions, if you wish."
"Ah, perhaps later, thank you," Reinhardt says. If they must escape, he will take her instructions then. Twenty-seven yards is not so far.
The lights in the reactor flicker, then die. The only lights now are the yellow glow of Lúcio's skates, Mercy's wings, the green slit of Genji's visor, and the oscillating purplish glow of Zarya's grav cannon. Reinhardt had not been aware of the deep, pervasive humming resonating throughout the room until that too fades away. In the ensuing silence, the sounds of the approaching army are much louder.
"Okay guys, I have to do one more thing and then we can get out of here," Winston crackles, and then falls silent.
"Did he have to kill th' lights?" McCree grouses, edging closer to the blasted-out door. The sun is rising, but the high walls of the omnium let in far less sunlight than Reinhardt would like. Today of all days it would be overcast.
"Do you still have that flashlight?" Brigitte asks Lúcio, who snaps his fingers and fumbles for a moment, before clicking it on. They now have the narrow beam of the torch to aid them.
From around the distant corner, Reinhardt sees the first pinpricks of red.
"They are here!" he hisses into his comm. He lifts the door and holds it against the hole, plunging them into even deeper darkness. "Winston, should we head for the rear entrance? Do you need more time?"
"Uh, just a second," WInston says, distracted. There's a metallic screeching sound over the comm. "Just give me five more minutes. If you think you can hold the reactor for that long?"
Reinhardt hears affirmation from his comrades. "We will try."
"Stick close, everyone," says Tracer.
"Do not attack until they have come to the door," Hanzo suggests. "If there is even a chance of them passing us by, we should take it."
The air freezes with tension as the scrape and clink of tens of feet nears, until it is so close that Reinhardt knows the enemy must be just on the other side. He freezes, hardly daring to breathe.
Scccchk.
A strange sound. When he registers the jiggling of the handle, he realizes: something is trying the lock. The door is still shut fast, and the sound stops after a few seconds.
Will it work? Will it fool them?
The war omnics, though they lack many of the higher processing centers that the more modern civilian models possess, are not stupid. Reinhardt knows this, and is therefore unsurprised when he hears a high-pitched crackling sound. He is surprised when the round handle plate simply falls off. He loses his hold as the lock gives way and the doors collapse inward.
"They are here!" he shouts into his comm, warning Winston before smashing the first two through the door with his hammer.
It is pandemonium. The omnics spill through the breach like tar, heavy and dark. The narrowness of the aperture means that they can only trickle in, which makes disposing of them swift. Reinhardt smashes and crushes until his arms grow fatigued.
Their numbers seem endless. For each one that is demolished another takes its place. The bodies pile up and eventually the team is forced back, lest they trip on the wreckage.
Fighting in the dark is something Reinhard detests. He fears his own strength, what an unchecked swing of his hammer might do to one of his teammates if he misjudges their location.
Such darkness he has faced once before on the sprawling fields outside Stuttgard. The sky had darkened, turned a muddy brown from the endless bombing runs that had churned the dirt up into the clouds; the dense smoke as the grass had caught fire and burned for days. Even there he had had more visibility; the flashes of bullets and firestrikes and fire turning everything a hellish orange.
Reinhardt throws a firestrikes into the advancing omnics even as he takes a step back. "Winston, how is it coming?" he says. He brings his shield to bear as more omnics break through, guns aimed right for them.
"I'm done!"
A galloping sound and then a thump; Winston lands beside them. "C'mon, let's go!"
Never has he been so glad to retreat. The omnium was beginning to feel like a death trap. Ahead someone is carrying the torch; he can see the light bouncing along the ground, and the glowing circle of Tracer's chronal accelerator. They follow her along the side of a building and around a corner, then another turn that terminates in a door.
"This is it!" Tracer pushes open the door, and -
Brigitte, who is at the front now brings her shield up just in time. There is a veritable sea of omnics on the other side, red eyes focusing on them even as the black barrels of their guns snap up.
Bullets fly, and Brigitte's shield can only withstand so much before it shatters. She grabs for the door handle as she raises an arm, shielding her face. The door slams shut again.
"Is everyone alright?" Tracer says, winking back into existence. Reinhardt hadn't even notice her recalling to avoid being hit. He pushes to the front, kneeling next to Brigitte It's still too dark to make out her face, and he cannot feel anything through his armor.
"Did you get hit?" he asks. The speed at which her shield had broken was alarming.
"I-I'm fine," Brigitte says, her voice wavering from the shock of the surprise. "I didn't expect that."
In the distance Reinhardt can hear the echoing crack of Torbjörn's turret, firing down on the enemy. They've breached the omnium, and even now must be making their way towards them. His team is like mice trapped in a maze that is steadily filling with water. Only instead of water, it is omnics that will flood every crack and crevice until they are overwhelmed.
"No new injuries," Mercy reports.
"Winston, what is our next course of action?" Genji asks. "The way forward is blocked. They are behind us. If we do not find another way out…" He leaves the sentence unfinished, an ominous silence falling. Everyone knows what will happen if they can't get out.
"We could try the upper level," Winston says. "There may be an emergency exit there."
"Maybe we could jump out a window," Lúcio suggests.
"Better decide fast, gents," Tracer says tightly, having dashed to the end of the hall to peer around the corner. "They're coming. We don't have much time."
"Which way to the sewer entrance?" Hanzo asks.
Zarya is speaking into her radio. Reinhardt cannot understand what she is saying, but he recognizes the word 'svyatogors', and the urgency in her voice is plain. She is radioing for backup, but he doesn't think that the Russians can save them from this.
"If we're going to go, let's go," Torbjörn says, turning back down the hall. "No dilly-dallying."
"Which way to the sewer entrance!" Hanzo demands, the sharpness in his voice tearing through their confusion.
"Uh - it should be east about twenty-two meters and then seventeen to the north," Winston stammers. So, that would put them on a path straight ahead out the door and to the left. It seems so simple, so close! Safety is tantalizingly within reach.
"Come here," Hanzo says in a tone that brooks no argument. He points at Reinhardt. "Have your shield up." He points to Brigitte. "Open the door on my signal."
"Hanzo," Genji says, but Hanzo ignores him.
"Be prepared to run," Hanzo says, and nocks an arrow in his bow. He stands in front of the door, just in front of Reinhardt's shield. He pulls back the string, and takes a deep breath. When he releases it, the hiss of his breathing seems to elongate and deepen, taking on a strange, hollow timbre. Blue light flickers into being along his arm, wavering like tongues of flame. It winds down to his hand, growing and roiling until -
"Now!"
Brigitte throws the door open as Hanzo's yell distorts into a roar, and he looses the arrow.
Brigitte and Hanzo throw themselves back behind Reinhardt's shield as soon as the arrow flies, but Reinhardt is hardly aware of it; he's too busy watching what Hanzo has unleashed.
Ghostly shapes have exploded into being, bright and glowing as the heavens themselves. It engulfs the omnic horde, and even as Reinhardt watches he can see bullets and metal bodies withering, crumbling to ash. The shapes twine around each other sinuously, and though he cannot make it out clearly he thinks they look just like a pair of - no, it is impossible.
The dragons roar as they barrel through the omnics, a thunderous yet empty sound that Reinhardt feels more than he hears. He's so paralyzed with awe that it takes Brigitte smacking his chestplate for him to remember that they are supposed to be moving now.
Reinhardt charges forward, shield still up though now there is nothing to guard from. He makes a left at Winston's instruction and finds nothing but more ash and the shimmering tails of the cosmic dragons fading away into the air. The rusty doors that Winston had thrown open before have disappeared, as well as a good portion of the end of the sewer which has been reduced to ash. They squeeze inside and assemble as they had done on their arrival, Lúcio's music carrying them away from the danger. Away from the omnics.
Towards safety.
"That was amazing!" Tracer exclaims as they emerge from the pipe into the concrete lagoon. They had run the whole way back, not stopping until they had spied the bright circle of daylight that marked the end.
Tracer seems the only one able to find her voice. Reinhardt, finally feeling it is safe enough to do so, removes his helm and takes deep breaths of the bracing Siberian air. The cold stings his lungs, making him cough, but it feels like heaven on his sweaty face.
"How did you do that?" Tracer is dancing on her toes in front of Hanzo. At least someone still has energy. "Were those really dragons?!"
Reinhardt is curious to know the answer to that question too. Hanzo's face is shuttered, pinched; it does not look like he wants to answer.
"It's...something of a family secret," Genji says wryly.
"Well, whatever it was it saved our skins!" Tracer says, smartly dropping the subject. "Thanks, Hanzo!"
A man is allowed his secrets.
"I did what I must," Hanzo replies, discomfited with her thanks. Reinhardt feels the warmth of gratitude as well, and expresses it in the form of a firm pat on Hanzo's back. Hanzo does not shrug off his hand, merely gives him the tiniest of nods.
"Y'know, the fact that you c'n make dragons is a pretty big secret," McCree says. "You should put that on your resume. Bet Winston'll have to let you join Overwatch now."
Hanzo shoots him an annoyed look. McCree is bringing up an old argument now. "I have told you, I do not want -"
If they are feeling well enough to bicker, Reinhardt counts it a blessing.
They return to the dropoff point to see the covered truck still parked there, their escorts lounging in the cab. Zarya slaps the truck's door, startling the men napping inside and barks something in Russian at them. She sounds angry.
A very awkward argument ensues. Reinhardt can read enough from the tone to guess that she is likely ripping them apart for letting their guard down so. Once she's finished with her men, she turns to Winston.
"You are sure that the omnium is down?"
Winston nods. "Yes. I checked and double checked the failsafes before I came back. Your people should be fine to commence the bombing."
"Good," Zarya breathes deeply, looking back the way they had come. "We will have to pull the army back first, but for now we go back to camp."
Once situated inside the back of the truck, Reinhardt feels exhaustion finally beginning to creep up on him. He checks the time; it is nearly six hours since they left. It feels conversely like they have been fighting for weeks, and for no time at all. As the truck trundles back towards camp, he thinks longingly of his bed back in Gibraltar. He could sleep for hours.
"Hooolyy crap," Lúcio says, slumping against the wall. "That was like, terrifying and awesome all at once." He holds out a hand, showing them how his fingers tremble. "I think that took a year off my life. I really thought we were gonna eat it for a moment back there."
Torbjörn grunts, rubbing his back. "You get used to it." He pauses, then grudgingly admits: "Though, we don't normally cut it quite that close."
Angela has McCree sitting on the floor, his pant leg rolled up again while she continues to examine his wound. By now all that remains of it is a pink, puckered scar.
"I'll need to x-ray that," she says, sighing. "If there are bone fragments or a misalignment I may have to take you to surgery. Either way, you should avoid using that leg any more until we get back."
Hanzo and Genji sit quietly together. Reinhardt thinks the space between them might be smaller, but perhaps that is the way that Hanzo has relaxed, loose-limbed against the truck. Whatever he had done before, it looks to have taken a lot out of him. His eyes are half-shut, as though he can barely keep them open. Genji is likewise subdued, though Reinhardt cannot make out his expression. He thinks that this mission owes most of its success to the Shimada brothers.
Brigitte is unusually quiet, propping her chin up on the curve of her shield.
"Are you alright?" he asks.
"Yeah," she says, and yawns. "I'm just really tired all of a sudden."
"Well, we have just been running for our lives," Tracer interjects cheerily.
"You fought well today," he tells Brigitte. "Your reflexes may have saved us back there."
Brigitte frowns. "It didn't stop McCree from getting shot," she says, loud enough for the man himself to hear it.
"Now, don't worry about it," he tells her. "I've taken worse. Your shield stopped me from gettin' chewed up by them bullets while I was down." He pats his leg. "'Sides, it ain't nothin' our esteemed doc can't fix."
Brigitte still looks doubtful.
Reinhardt places an arm around her shoulders, pulling her against his side. She is beginning to learn the hard lesson that he himself learned so many decades ago. "Brigitte, you cannot protect everyone." He sweeps a hand out, gesturing to all their teammates. "Look: we are all safe now. That is the most important thing. Ja?"
"...Yeah."
Back in the RDF camp, their reception is much warmer than the one they had received the day of their arrival. The soldiers that have returned from the field cheer as Overwatch disembarks from the truck, a sound that transforms into something like a war cry when Zarya herself emerges.
It is good to see how the morale has improved. Some of the post-assassination tension seems to have dissipated in the wake of their victory. Even though the bombs have yet to fall, Reinhardt can feel a new wind of freedom blowing.
With the camp intent to move and their involvement no longer required, Winston decides that they should leave as soon as possible. Reinhardt at first argues that they should stay and help the army mop up the remaining omnics, but it is Zarya that shoots him down.
"We have fought them this last year unaided, we can fight them again. You must take care of your own first." She gives him a significant look. "And the longer you remain here, the longer your home goes undefended."
They are ominous words, and Reinhardt knows they are sparked by the concern of the recent assassination attempt, but it makes him think. Could Talon be planning an attack on the Watchpoint?
He puts it from his mind. Talon is always plotting to kill them.
They decide to leave in the middle of the night after a few hour's sleep. Lena insists she is rested enough to fly. Leaving such will put their arrival at the Watchpoint in the morning - a recipe for terrible jet lag - but everyone is eager to be back on familiar ground.
"I am so ready to be back in my own bed," Lúcio says, yawning as he packs his bag. "I could sleep for a week."
McCree scowls as Reinhardt picks up his bags. He has been forced by Angela to use a set of crutches as to keep the weight off of his leg. "I don' know why I need to use these, m'leg feels fine," he grouses, but obeys the doctor's orders.
The Orca is towed out onto the tarmac and the soldiers help them load their gear while Lena and Winston run checks on the aircraft. Reinhardt is somewhat surprised to see that not one of the RDF's superior officers has come to see them off; he rather thought their gratitude would extend further than this. But perhaps it is better this way, to come and go with little fanfare.
The last of their supplies are shut into the cargo bays, and Reinhardt is about to join the rest of his teammates inside the Orca when he sees it. Pink hair illuminated faintly in the spotlights beating down on the tarmac: it is Zarya. Reinhardt and Winston go to meet her as she jogs towards the Orca.
"I meant to help you pack, but there was a meeting," she says, annoyed. "Forgive me."
"It's okay, I understand that the RDF probably has bigger things to worry about right now," says Winston, pushing up his glasses. "Um...tell everyone thank you. Your hospitality was appreciated."
"Do keep in touch," Reinhardt says, reaching out to shake Zarya's hand. When she grabs his proffered palm, she pulls him into her in a hard, firm hug.
"Don't be afraid to call us if you ever need anything." Winston says, offering his own hand. Zarya enfolds him in the same bearlike embrace, and he pats her awkwardly on the back.
"I am happy to call Overwatch a friend of Russia," Zarya declares, and releases Winston. "Thanks to you, this year my men will celebrate Christmas with their families." Reinhardt thinks he might see the slightest shine in Zarya's eyes when she says that, though her voice never wavers. She steps back and salutes, standing tall under the lights as they go.
"Safe travels, my friends."