Hana stared at the Japanese guards. She stared at the strange looking people that had saved her and McCree from the jail cell. She stared at the locker on her right – the one which she knew held her weapons, as well as McCree's. It had been transferred here, all of it, to await the trial. If only she could get to it…

'Hands above your head!' The Japanese guard repeated, more forcefully this time. Hana did as he said. So did the others, though they did not look happy about it.

They were directed outside in single file, and Hana was given the chance to look at them more closely. The woman, Mercy, was beautiful. Her blonde hair and perfect pale skin were almost more than Hana could bare. But she did not look normal – almost too radiant – and something about her battle armour, which was form-fitting and tough, spoke of technology that not even the South Koreans had developed. Hana wondered what kind of role Mercy might fill on a battlefield; whether or not her armour could stand up to the MEKA suit.

Reaper was something new again. His dark clothes and skull mask were something out of a pantomime, or a play. A kabuki monster, summoned by death himself to wreak havoc on the world. Maybe he was just what he seemed, a man in a mask, but Hana didn't think so. The way his gravelly voice echoed in her mind made him seem like much more, and his hellfire pistols barked with vicious anger when fired, as if they were hungry for blood…

Tracer, at least, looked normal. Pretty in an elfin way with her short hair and catlike grace, if anyone here was normal it was her. Although perhaps normal was not the right word. Anyone who could appear so human, and yet still have such a cocky, confident demeanour among people like Mercy and Reaper, could not be normal. As they walked, Tracer turned back to Hana, flicked her hair, and smiled.

'It's gonna be alright, love. The cavalry's here.'

Hana didn't know what that meant, but she had placed Tracer's accent now. English. Almost Cockney-English. She was clearly trying to hide it, but not doing very well.

McCree, standing behind, tapped Hana on the shoulder. 'Remember what you were talking about while we were in the cell? Is there any chance…'

Hana hissed to cut him off. If he spoke too loudly he might give away the plan. Without the suit she was nothing, but with it... She had already realised how easily she could save their group, all she needed was access to the control panel on her bracelet, but that was locked away. She glanced longingly back towards the locker where the weapons were being stored.

'Stop talking.' The Japanese man grunted. It was a sergeant, Hana realised, that was leading this troop. They had Hana and her new friends outnumbered three to one, surrounded. There was no chance of a fight here. Not unless they were very, very quick, and used the element of surprise.

'Private Kana, take their weapons and hold on tight. I don't know why the one in black has so many guns but don't let him take them back. Ayumi, go back to the cell and take all their possessions out of that storage locker. I want them all in high-security by the time the sun comes up, no more messing around. Someone call head office for some handcuffs.'

They shambled along in single file, still surrounded by the Japanese. The airstrip was lit now by a hundred glowing lights, shining down from tall pylons. It was the dead of night, perhaps three or four in the morning, but the military base was awake. Hana knew as fact that it had been many, many years since they had had to deal with intruders. No one in Japan was dumb enough to cross General Shimada, and no one outside of Japan had the technology.

Or so they had thought.

'You gave us quite a run tonight.' The Sergeant snapped, sounding genuinely irritable. 'Vehicles destroyed, a dozen killed and more injured. I don't know how you got past that security checkpoint, but it was a mess by the time we got there.'

Hana looked at Mercy, but the beautiful face did not look proud, or even remorseful. In fact she looked confused. Hana wondered if it was another group of intruders that had broken through the security checkpoint. She thought about mentioning it to the sergeant. Being locked up, treated as a criminal, was a strange experience for her. A conflicting turn of events. A few days ago she would have done anything for General Shimada and his family – they were almost like her own family. Japan had been her home since before the Fallout, the Omnics, the Risen Dead. And yet now… she felt strangely loyal to the people who had tried to rescue her.

'Took us half the night to clean up the dead.' The Sergeant continued. 'A few of them were already standing when we got there. Didn't take us too long, but it's still a major risk to the city. This is one of the last safe populations on earth. We don't take kindly to death. And speaking of… I noticed one of your own back there, lying on the ground. Who did that?'

'Me.' Growled McCree. He didn't look remorseful either. Hadn't he mentioned something about another man, Junkrat, trying to kill him? Was that Junkrat back in the cells, blown apart by Reaper's guns?

'Well, might be I owe you some thanks.' The Sergeant smiled wryly. 'One less for me to execute, anyway.'

At that moment Ayumi caught up with them. The young Japanese woman held out a handful of weapons to the Sergeant.

'I have retrieved everything from the storage locker.'

'Good. Keep it safe. Don't let them...'

There was a flicker of blue lightning and Tracer disappeared. A moment later she blinked into view several feet ahead of the pack. The Japanese guards immediately raised their weapons.

'Sorry!' Tracer called, hands in the air. 'I can't always control it. Not sure why that happened. Some kind of freak accident when I was nearly dead, I guess.'

'What the hell are you doing?' The Sergeant stomped toward her, pushed her down to her knees, and placed his gun at the back of her head. 'What the fuck was that?!'

Tracer looked genuinely concerned. The rest of the group watched on.

'It was an accident! I keep flickering in and out of time! Usually I can control it, but…'

'How did you gain this ability?'

'I don't know, exactly!'

Hana was watching the drama unfold, unable to look away, when McCree leaned forward and spoke very softly in her ear.

'Get your bracelet on the count of three…'

Hana gulped. She wanted to tell the cowboy it was a bad idea, that they should hope for the mercy of General Shimada, who she treated almost like a father. But hadn't General Shimada been the one to order Genji healed into the body of a cyborg, the most unnatural abomination of all time? Hadn't General Shimada been the one to order Hanzo to kill his own brother? So she said nothing, just nodded, and hoped that this mad escape plan might work.

'One…' McCree hissed. The Sergeant was still threatening Tracer.

'Two…' said McCree. Reaper had cocked his head slightly, focusing on McCree's voice rather than that of the sergeant.

'Three!' McCree shouted.

And everything was chaos.

The American leapt over to the biggest cluster of Japanese guards he could find and bowled them over, thumping them with his fists as they wrestled on the ground. Reaper faded into shadow and reappeared behind another enemy, snapping his neck before engaging two more of the Japanese in a fist fight, his large heavy boots slamming one into the pavement. Mercy realised what was happening and spread her wings – her wings! – then used them to dash and slap the enemies, throwing them into chaos, slipping back and forth through the fray.

Hana panicked, and froze. She could see that Tracer had, once again, flickered out of time, and was now fighting off the Sergeant and two of his cronies. They were all big, trained soldiers, but Tracer hardly seemed to lay a foot on the ground. She flickered to the left, kicked a soldier in the back of the head, and then appeared on the right where she elbowed another man in the back of the head. She was everywhere, and they could not lay a finger on her.

Hana looked towards Private Ayumi, the soldier that was holding her weapons and McCree's. Between them were two other Japanese guards. Hana gulped. She needed that bracelet. If she could call on her suit…

The guards approached as one.

Hana was not confident. When she was out of the suit she felt naked, exposed, worthless; as fragile as an arthritic spine, which should have been covered in layers of meat and muscle. She knew, deep down, that it was a silly thought, that she was a valuable person who meant a lot to her family and friends – or at least she had meant a lot to them before they all died in the Fallout. But it was hard to remember that sometimes. It made her anxious knowing that, if her DNA was not coded to the MEKA suit, she might not have a purpose in life at all.

But despite all her insecurities outside of the suit, Hana did have one thing going for her. Her training. It had taken her many years to gain the privilege of wearing the MEKA armour; training that had involved a special diet, workout regime, psychological profiling, and hand-to-hand combat. A lot of that had now fallen away, particularly the diet aspect – but you never forget the kind of hand-to-hand combat she was taught.

It's like riding a bike.

Hana ducked left as the first guard swung a heavy fist. She was small but fast, and grabbed his arm before he registered her movement. She twisted it, pulled her knee up, and slammed the bigger man's lower stomach three times. He doubled over, struggling for breath, so she rose the knee again and took out his chin. Blood exploded from inside his mouth. He must have bitten his own tongue, poor idiot.

The second man approached from the side, and was much more cautious now that he'd seen what she could do. But Hana still made short work of him. His first three punches all missed – her first three all connected. So did her next six. Her fists were small, but she could normally throw a dozen quick punches in the time it took her enemies to remember to raise their forearms to guard, and by then it was too late. One final kick to the groin and the second foe was on his knees. She stepped past him and looked towards the private.

Private Ayumi had run away, leaving McCree's weapons on the floor along with her own. Hana bent down, collected the bracelet, and strapped it to her wrist just as…

'STOP!' Called the Sergeant.

Everyone stopped. Hana looked. Mercy and McCree had both been grappled to the ground, and both had guns pointing to their temples. Reaper stepped back, fingers splayed as if reaching for guns that weren't there, and Tracer flickered into existence at his side.

'No more fighting. Reinforcements are on the way and you are in the centre of a military facility. The world's best military facility. If you make one more move I will execute you here and now.'

'Private Kebo is dead.' Someone said, looking at the man whose neck had been snapped by Reaper.

The Sergeant pulled back the safety catch on his weapon. 'I should just kill you bastards right now.'

Hana tapped the button on her bracelet. She felt it buzz in confirmation, imagined seeing the signal radiate out from her. The South Korean space station, somewhere high, high above, orbiting the earth, had been waiting for this moment. And now it was responding.

'Don't kill any of them.' Hana said. 'Just kill me.'

'Why?' the Sergeant asked warily.

Hana felt her confidence returning. Any second now she would put on the suit, and she would be herself again.

'Because I'm Hana Song. The last South Korean. Because I'm the monster your parents warned you about. Because I work with robots. Because I understand technology and I'm not afraid of the Omnic virus or the risen dead.'

The guards looked confused and a little concerned. Everyone had a healthy fear of technology since the Omnic virus.

'Is it really her?' Someone asked.

'Prove it.' The Sergeant snapped.

'Oh. I'm about to.' Hana grinned. 'But first, let me just say, you are really ugly. Like, super ugly. Like, if there's one thing I'll never forget about today, it's the look on your stupid face as you try to look in control. I mean you are so out of your league. Look around. We're not playing games anymore, Sergeant, this is real battle, and you can't just ask us to stop. We don't stop when you ask us.'

'You stopped fighting because I have guns pointed at your allies heads.' The Sergeant retorted.

'Not for long.'

The MEKA suit slammed to the earth, throwing dust up around them and causing all the Japanese guards to step back in shock. It looked like an enormous cube, draped in colour and strangely shaped fragments of metal. It started to unfold – the controls stretched out before Hana and she took them, allowing the suit to envelop her, close in around her. She was glad that Hanzo had not made her change clothes when she was put into a cell. The insulation suit the South Koreans had designed might have been a little tight, but it did its job perfectly. Hana had once entered the armour without it, and had been applying burn cream to her arms and legs for almost a week afterwards.

Anyway, that was beside the point. The MEKA suit stood, completed the mobilization process, and armed its weapons.

' one, bad guys zero.' She grinned behind the protective covering of the MEKA suit cockpit. 'Now let's dance.'

The Japanese were clearly done trying to bring in their captives peacefully. They all opened fire, hundreds of bullets pounding towards the MEKA suit. But Hana flicked a switch and the Defence Matrix opened up in front of her. The projectiles were caught by the magnetic field and thrown away harmlessly. The bullets never even touched her.

'Boo.' smiled.

Reaper, McCree, Tracer and Mercy leapt into action, and this time the fight lasted only a few seconds. The Japanese were afraid, in need of reloading, and distracted by the enormous pink and purple mech-titan that had just absorbed a dozen clips of ammo and still stood unscathed. Only two more of the guards were knocked down before the Sergeant called a retreat, and the entire group sprinted away across the airstrips.

McCree picked up his six-shooter and ammo belt from where it had been abandoned, then turned and tipped his hat to . 'Thanks for the save.'

Reaper's voice spoke in her ear, and somehow she knew only she could hear it this time.

'Nice suit,' he growled, voice deep as the ocean and unforgiving as an earthquake. 'Does it come in black?'