A/N
So the idea for this came from playing the Overwatch 2 beta, specifically Orisa's new moveset. I'm...mixed, on it. On one hand, the moveset itself is neat, but Orisa really feels like an entirely new character compared to her original version, that honestly, I'm surprised that "Orisa 2.0" isn't some new character. Certainly I could see her fitting in with the old one, especially since there's only one tank allowed per match.
Anyway, drabbled this up.
Tip of the Spear
"Please stand behind the barrier."
As I say these words, it occurs to me that Numbani's civil protectors don't need the encouragement. They can take cover behind the barrier of hard-light that I have generated and stay alive, or they can not do that and cease all bodily functions.
There are, of course, other options – there's no shortage of rubble they can take cover behind right now – but staying behind my barrier is the optimal course of action. And right now, the protectors are quite happy to oblige.
I cannot fault them this choice. Nor can I fault them in their desire to protect their city. I can, however, fault the effectiveness of their actions in defending the city-state of Numbani that I have called home for the last two months.
Technically, one month and nineteen days – almost the entirety of my existence. And I have not "called" any other place on planet Earth home. But amidst the shooting, and the shouting, and the screaming,, I believe it would be inappropriate for me to engage in the semantics of language, be they in English, Yoruban, or otherwise.
Perhaps I should be clearer as to what the situation actually is. I could sum it up in a single word, but that word is one that Bolaji Oladele told my creator not to use, so I shall likewise refrain from uttering it. As such, I shall be more eloquent.
Null Sector is invading Numbani. This, in a sense, is not an unusual turn of affairs, as the group of freedom fighters/terrorists/synthetic supremacists (so many descriptors for the same organization) are doing to my home what they've done to at least one city on every continent on this planet. Utilizing massive stratospheric vessels called command carriers as mobile bases, their M.O. is to move into a city's airspace, disgorge legions of ground forces, and keep up the attack until all ground resistance has been destroyed. Then their troops return to the carrier, which moves onto the next city and the cycle of destruction is repeated.
Over, and over, and over, leaving nothing but dust and ashes in their wake.
On the other hand, I find it most unusual that they would invade Numbani. The Jewel of West Africa, the City of Harmony. The one place on Earth where omnics and humans co-exist as equals. Of the thirty-eight civil protectors alongside me right now, eighteen are human, and twenty are omnic. Both peoples have the same interest in defending their home.
Null Sector, however, is intent on killing them all.
To my dismay, they are accomplishing this goal with distressing effectiveness. Steel is stronger than flesh, but both give way to the Nulltroopers' plasma fire. The same fire that has destroyed my shield, and it will take 8.4 seconds before my reactor has generated enough energy to create another one. Projectiles come my way, and I use that same energy to create a shield that increases my endurance, reducing the kinetic and electrical force of projectiles. Not as effective as hard-light, but it does its job.
To a point.
The protectors keep falling. The Nulltroopers keep firing. I reload my fusion driver, and at a processing speed faster than any organic brain could accomplish, ascertain the situation.
The centre cannot hold, I think, to quote the works of a man long dead, and one whom Bolaji Oladele admires. The line between police and military in Numbani is blurred, as the city has never had to contend with the possibility of an outside attacker. Landlocked inside Nigeria, a country friendly to the city-state for the most part, the government of Gabrielle Adawe's gift to the world has never had to pour much into its defences. The world's brightest minds come into Numbani, and the world's most advanced technology goes out. It is an arrangement that has served the country throughout its history, but as the Second Omnic Crisis continues to rage, it is a choice that is no longer paying dividends.
Police officers are not soldiers. And even if they were, the weapons the civil protectors are using are antiquated. Magazine-fed, gas-fired projectiles that would down a conventional target, but are of limited use against Null Sector's forces. Completely useless against the command ship that dominates the skyline, and just as useless against the drop pods that continue to rain down on the city, even if any protector could hit them.
For every Null Sector omnic we destroy, two more take its place.
I don't know where Efi is. We returned from our sojourn abroad just before Null Sector attacked. Our meeting with our contact was time well spent, considering the upgrades I received, but they have not proven adequate to stem the tide of death and steel that comes our way.
I don't know if Numbani has requested aid from Nigeria, or any of the surrounding countries, but I suspect it shall prove to be as fruitless as almost every other attempt to stem Null Sector's advance. For every Paris, there is a Toronto and Rio. For every Busan, a Sydney and New York. They are, as the saying goes, the exception to the rule.
Null Sector doesn't seek to rule. It seeks to destroy. To, in the words of its leader, "take the world back to zero."
I deploy another hard-light barrier. I briefly hear one of the civil protectors yelling to fall back, as the Nulltroopers continue to advance. Tapping into the radio feeds, I learn that this particular group is to fall back to Alpha Site, which, after a microsecond, I learn is the Numbani International Airport. The place where Efi I landed, where we met her parents, where I departed as Null Sector attacked. Now, after hours of constant fighting, it is the place I am to return to.
Some might call that ironic. Others, appropriate. If Numbani is lost (and given the information I am processing, that appears to be the case), then the airport is a logical position to defend, if only to a point.
If the world is at war, where, then, does one fly off to find peace?
I walk backwards, constantly firing my fusion driver as the protectors flee through the streets, my four legs carrying me alone. Past broken buildings, past broken cars, past…I hesitate, as I process the sight of bodies. Men and women, young and old, human and omnic, those of every creed, culture, and colour. In a continent that has known no shortage of strife over the last century, Numbani proved to be a harmony for humanity itself, as much as its mechanical children. Now?
Now, it appears that they died as they lived.
Together.
My internal temperature rises as I continue to reverse course. Still reloading. Still firing, both projectiles from my fusion driver, and graviton charges from the same device, slowing my attackers down. Still processing every shot that hits me, still taking grim satisfaction at every Nulltrooper I see fall. I know this is not what I was designed for, but in the moment? Where I am the shield between those who would destroy this city, and those who would save it?
I activate my supercharger, and carry it with me. Streams of energy pour into the civil protectors, giving them an extra boost as they flee, kicking their adrenalin into overdrive. It is too late to turn the tide of battle. It is not too late, however, to save more lives than fewer.
I hope. Though, I reflect, not all my hope is spread equally.
I cannot stop myself from thinking Efi and her family. Moreso than any other. She is not worth more or less than anyone else in this city, at least from the moral standpoint. From the tactical one…well, it's quite possible to put a value on life. Cross-reference abilities (mechanical and mathematical genius) with age (11), and one can come up with a value. I could, in a microsecond, run the calculations.
I can't. Or rather, I won't.
But I hope they're alright.
I hope I see them again.
I hope that one day, very soon, Efi and I will be able to dance together once more. Sing together. That we shall be able to watch the next Flash Brighton movie and point out the plotholes and other absurdities. That I shall make puff-puffs, and she shall eat puff-puffs, and we shall once again know joy.
It is a good dream. And one that costs me dearly.
As I continue to reverse course, as I continue to fire, I do not see the omnic that barges into me until contact is made.
I slam against the wall, hard, with enough force to destroy any human, or humanoid omnic (instead it destroys the supercharger I was carrying).
If I could feel pain, I would scream. Instead, as my emergency systems kick in, I am alerted that my graviton charge function has been damaged beyond use. Nevertheless, I examine the assailant.
It is similar to an OR model, yet clearly not. Similar design, yet not. Larger. Stronger. A weapon of war, like the OR14s of old. It is painted black and red – one the colour of the earth, the other the colour of that which feeds it. Or at least, according to Null Sector's leader.
It is like no Null Sector omnic that exists in my database. And as I process the situation, I realize that I may never see anything again if I do not act appropriately.
I raise my fusion driver, but with its left hand, my assailant grabs it. I fire, but the angle is wrong. As metal tears and grown, it rips it off, and tosses it aside. My right arm, useless.
In desperation, I punch with my left. It does no good, each blow bouncing off its hull. It brings down one of its fists, shattering my hard-light caster.
I have nothing left. And I am afraid.
Its giant head impacts my chest, denting the metal. I receive a warning that my reactor is at danger of breaching, and that an emergency shutdown has been activated.
Override?
The words flash before my eyes. My two, compared with the omnic's nine. Like an insect, or an arachnid. Examining its prey.
Override?
I'm tempted to do so. Because the blast that would result might be strong enough to take my assailant with me.
Override?
But if I do that, I shall die.
I shall never see Efi again.
But to save others?
I try to override the shutdown.
I scream.
But the omnic hits me again, and again, and again.
Shutting down…
"No!" I scream.
Is it to the omnic, or to my own systems?
"Don't want to…don't…me…"
There is no answer.
There are only nine red eyes staring at me, through the dark.
And after that?
Silence.
…
…
…Reboot complete.
I am alive.
Or, rather, I am activated.
I do not know if it is accurate to say that I am alive, or that I am living. I do not know if I possess a "soul," or "spirit," or if the creed of the Shambali is true. There is no scientific proof I am aware of in regards to such claims.
But I am, if nothing else, activated. I am missing an arm, and many of my systems are not yet optimal. But among them, my visual systems are operating effectively.
So I can tell that I'm in some kind of workshop.
I can tell that there are currently two other individuals present.
"Orisa?" Whispers a voice.
And that of the two, one is standing before me. Half as tall, and only a fraction of my mass. But the weight her presence carries?
"Efi!" I exclaim.
She hugs me, and I bring my one remaining arm around my creator. My friend. Her mass is small, her gravity is larger than the world's.
"I was so afraid," she sniffs. "When they brought you back here, I thought that…well, I didn't really think you were gone, but a lot of people said you never coming back, and I…"
"You rebuilt me once," I tell her. "You have done so again."
Error.
"Well," I admit, as I get more of a sense of myself. "Almost."
Efi looks sheepish as she draws back from me. I hope that she hasn't taken it personally. It isn't her fault that Null Sector has declared war against the world. It isn't her fault that…thing, defeated me so easily.
I look around the room – tools of all kinds hang on the walls. Everything from fusion cutters, to sonic spanners, to even an arclight welder. It is a workshop, yes, but a workshop where? Given the amount of empty space, between its three walls and sliding fourth one, it is clearly meant for something larger than myself.
"Numbani Airport," Efi says, when I inquire as to my location. She smiles sadly. "Remember this place?"
I do, and I nod. Numbani Airport was where I 'died.' When my old chassis was destroyed by Doomfist, along with the rest of my fellow Or15s. Efi brought me back to life afterwards. Rebuilt me at her home.
One might call it ironic, that I have been reborn where once I once died. That after touching down here not so long ago, it is the airport I have returned. And perhaps further ironic that I hear the sound of an aircraft – taking off, rather than landing. My audio sensors are able to pick up on the Doppler effect.
Passenger jet. Hydrogen fuelled. By my estimate, a Metzen 900. Able to carry up to 700 passengers. 750 if they're on the thin side.
"Another one," Efi whispers, likewise listening to the plane. She looks at me, trying to look brave, but not really managing it. "Lots of people trying to take off, even while others are coming in."
"Others?" I ask.
Efi remains silent.
"Where is your family?" I ask. "Are they out, or in?"
"Oh, in," Efi says. "Or here, at least. They want to go, well, mum and Yewande do. Dayo wants to do what I want to do, and dad…he gets it."
"Gets it?" I ask.
"Gets what you can do, and what we all have to do. Gets that when the whole world's gone mad, flying to another part of it won't do any good."
There is wisdom in her words, I reflect. Flaws too. It is one thing to say that the world is at war. It is another to assume that every inch of its surface is a battlefield. Null Sector has attacked every continent bar Antarctica, but there are clearly places of refuge. In one sense, to flee would be logical.
But in another, there is no such logic. Null Sector's goal is to wipe out the human race, and as recent events have shown, they are not above slaughtering their fellow omnics either. One could flee to the ends of the Earth and still find mechanical hyenas nipping at them.
However, I will not debate such prospects with Efi. Even if she is my creator, I owe her innocence, even if I have long lost mine. So, in the knowledge that her family is safe, I ask her about her friends.
"Friends?" She gives me a look.
"Naade. Hassana. Are they not your friends?"
My creator says nothing.
"Are they not safe?" I ask, louder than before.
Efi, for reasons I can't explain, looks to the side and bites her lip, not answering. How strange.
What is also strange is how much older she seems. Biologically, this is impossible. Checking my internal clock, it has been two days, seventeen hours, ten minutes, and five seconds since I last saw her. It is impossible for a human being, through means natural or otherwise, to change significantly in that period of time. Not without the use of cybernetic implants.
Scanning…
Which, I confirm, my creator does not have.
"I'm sure they're fine," she eventually whispers, looking back at me.
And yet, her hair seems a little longer. Her voice a little deeper. Deep shadows are under her eyes, and I conclude that either she's stopped eating her vegetables, or has not gotten enough sleep.
"Of course they are," says a voice, as the second person in the room steps into my field of vision. The one until now, I have given little thought to.
"Hello, Orisa," she says.
I scan the visitor up and down. In the realm of cybernetic implants, hypothetical or otherwise, she does, I believe, "have it made." And I realize that my ignoring her earlier was a grave mistake on my part.
"Vivian Chase," I say. "Callsign: Sojourn. Ex-Canadian special forces, former member of Overwatch, temporary acting commander after the death of Commander Morrison."
She smirks. "Thanks for the life-story, but-"
"Also the primary character of Overwatch season two, episode eleven, where your cartoon counterpart thwarted Talon from blowing up the headquarters of the African Union."
"That's nice, but-"
"Also my master's favourite."
"Orisa, you don't need to tell Sojourn everything about me," Efi says, brushing some hair aside awkwardly.
"Apologies. Speaking personally, my favourite episode is from season six, episode twenty-two, where…"
I trail off. I realize that this is non-pertinent information. Also, if season six, episode twenty-two isn't your favourite episode, I invite you to share why on my HollaGram account.
"We're lucky to have you," Sojourn says. "Null Sector's almost in complete control of Numbani. Sending a dropship after you was a risk few people were willing to make. Even I had trouble getting the civil protectors to risk it."
I lower my head in shame. "I am sorry."
"Hey, Orisa, it's not your fault," Efi says, taking one of my fingers in her hands and squeezing it. "Those civil protectors you saved? To them, you're a hero."
My head swivels to where my missing arm was once attached. "I do not believe I am," I say. "If I were, I would have triumphed. If I triumphed…" I take a moment to process my conclusions. "More people would be alive."
Efi says nothing. Sojourn, however, says, "codswallop."
"What?" Efi and I ask together.
"Codswallop," Sojourn repeats. "You beat Doomfist less than a month ago. Saved a lot of lives at the Unity Day concert. That's a hero in my book. And the world could always use more of them."
I look back at the former agent. Scan her. Eventually ask, "may I inquire as to why you are here?"
"You may."
"We visited you in Toronto, where you fully upgraded my fusion driver. We left afterwards and returned to Numbani, after which Null Sector launched its global attack. My understanding is that Toronto…that it…"
Efi looks at Sojourn. The woman winces, as if in pain.
"You heard about Toronto?" She whispers.
"I have accessed the networks."
"Yeah, well, they're wrong," she says.
"They are?"
Sojourn nods, gritting her teeth. "Let's just say that what happened in Toronto was worse than any story you read."
I find that highly unlikely. Unless the media is lying. Which would be odd, but…actually, considering the history of war on this planet, lying about the state of conflict is a time-honoured tradition
That Numbani has never had to do so does not make this assessment less true.
"So," Sojourn says. "Little Efi is here. I'm here. Two days from now, Overwatch will be here, along with the Nigerian Army and Air Force. Which means that we have two days to get you ready to join the fight."
I shift my head to the side, to look at where my arm, and attached fusion driver, used to be.
"Orisa?" Efi asks.
"I do not believe…" I trail off, my vocal processor acting up. "I do not believe I will be able to help you much."
"Hey, Orisa, don't say that," Efi says. "You beat Doomfist, you can beat these guys!"
She is lying. Or at least, she is saying things she doesn't fully believe. Nevertheless, I look at Sojourn, and ask, "why are you telling me this?"
"About the attack?"
"I imagine that such information could potentially compromise its execution."
"Oh yeah, sure. I agree. But the facts are simple. We either take the city back, or we all die." She smirks at me. "Fun, eh?"
'Eh.' A quintessential Canadian mannerism.
Also, I do not find this situation 'fun.'
At all.
Mission Clock: 15:35:02
Mission Clock: 15:35:01
Mission Clock: 15:35:00
I am counting down the remaining time to the counterattack that will be launched against Null Sector, which will occur at 0600 tomorrow morning.
It has not stopped me from performing my tasks, but it is always in the back of my mind. Literally.
It was there, when I met with the rest of the Oladeles. When Fola cursed me, Bolaji thanked me, Dayo said I was "totally cool," and Yewande said things I shall not repeat.
I believe that some of them blame me for what has happened. The same way that so many humans in Numbani are blaming their omnic brethren. As if it is their fault that Null Sector has attacked. Illogical, of course – that would be like blaming all humans for the death of Tekhartha Mondatta – but logic, it seems, is in short supply. Even Null Sector is not immune – for a group that supposedly champions omnic rights, it makes no sense to attack the place where omnics have it better than anywhere else.
"Makes sense to me."
Sojourn, on the other hand, differs.
"Of course Null Sector would attack Numbani," she says, as she walks me to one of the airport's command posts. "For starters, it's the most advanced city in west Africa. Nano-tech, bio-tech, cybernetics…"
"And for enders?" I ask.
She gives me a look. "Numbani is the City of Harmony," she says. "If that city gets destroyed, what happens when the rest of the world sees it?"
I do not understand, and tell her as such.
"Null Sector's war isn't just against the human race, it's against every omnic that's settled for co-existence," Sojourn explains. "So in Zero's eyes, Numbani's nothing but a nest of vipers. He takes them out, every omnic on planet Earth will, at best, think about changing their loyalties."
"And at worst?"
"Have their dreams come true."
Omnics do not dream. At least, not in the literal sense. But I remain quiet, as this information is irrelevant. Also, in the command post, men and women wearing military uniforms are present, and I sense that they do not like me.
"What the heck is with the walking rustbucket?"
At all.
"She's with me," Sojourn says. "Also, this is the robot that saved this city last month, so I suggest you focus on the omnics that aren't on your side."
One of the soldiers mutters about sides, and I am reminded that I am still missing an arm. Also that my hard-light shield projector and supercharger were not recovered from Numbani's streets. At best, I would be a walking target.
Efi told me that she had a plan for that, but for now, I'm to "shut up and listen."
So I do. And I learn the plan.
Null Sector's wisened up to the tactics Overwatch has employed. It's impossible to defeat them in a war of attrition, but if one takes out the command carrier, they lose their ability to reproduce units, and any forces in the field lose command and control capability. For all his talk of breaking chains, Zero keeps his armies on a tight leash. However, while the carriers are his Achilles heel, the one hovering over Numbani is bristling with anti-aircraft weaponry (as in, more than usual), so simply flying an Orca in won't do it any good.
So that's where we come in. We launch an attack on the ground, while the Air Force launches an attack on the sky. And in the midst of all that, Overwatch comes in, boards the carrier, and (hopefully) saves the day.
"Is this not attrition?" I ask.
I know I was told to shut up and listen, but the problem I have with this plan is that it seems to involve a lot of dying.
"Course it is," grunts the man in a colonel's uniform. "But it's the best plan we have."
"But people will die," I say. "They will-"
"Die, so others may live. That's the job of a soldier. And when you're with us, omnic, you're going to be the tip of the spear."
I do not like this logic. Nor do I like the idea of being a soldier. And my one comfort in this is that, as I glance at Vivian Chase, she does not like it either.
Is it because of Toronto? Or is it because this was the same calculus used in the first Omnic Crisis?
It is with relief when, hours later, that Sojourn walks me back to the workshop. Enough so that I ask her what she's doing here.
"I was sent ahead," she says. "Get the lie of the land."
"I do not understand."
"I work with the Nigerians, I contact Winston, I tell him what's what, the plan goes ahead."
"But are they not across the Atlantic? Are there not cities there that need their help as well?"
"There are."
"But then why-"
"Look," she says, glaring at me. "We have to decide which cities to save, and which cities not to. And Numbani is…" She bites her lip, before muttering, "Numbani is worth more than many others."
"I do not understand."
"No, you don't. And frankly, I envy you for it."
Her pace has quickened. Her heartbeat is accelerated. Odd. I thought her cybernetics kept that in check.
"Come on, Efi's waiting for us."
"You sound irritated. Is this about Toronto?"
She gives me a look that indicates she is contemplating murder. For a moment, I am afraid.
The moment after that, I am still afraid, even as the look fades, and she keeps walking. Not of Sojourn, but of Null Sector.
I can see their command carrier in the distance, hovering above Numbani's burning spires. They have taken the city, but have not moved against the airport. Which strikes me as very odd, because not only is the airport a key evacuation route for civilians, but a deployment army for the Nigerians. For every passenger liner that goes out, a cohort of military aircraft come in. Mostly gunships, some of them military transport planes, bringing in equipment and personnel. At 0600 tomorrow, fighter jets will launch from Lagos, and the war of attrition will begin.
But why not strike now? The man in the uniform didn't know when asked. But I ask Sojourn, in case her wisdom is greater.
"I think Zero knows what's coming," she says. "I think he's waiting for the storm rather than riding it."
"But there is no storm forecast."
She snorts. "Tell that to them."
I do not see her point as the quintet of fighter jets tear through the cloudless sky. The airport is covered on both the ground and in the air. Perhaps it would have been wise for Zero to press his attack, or perhaps he is justified in solidifying his hold over Numbani. I do not know. I suppose that tomorrow, I shall find out.
I check my mission clock.
15:35:02
"Orisa!"
And return to the present, as we walk back into the workshop, where my creator is waiting for me. Along with a number of items that, I must admit, bring me joy.
Shame, as well. There should not be joy in weapons of war. I was created to serve Numbani, not take part in a battle that will level it.
"Pretty neat huh?" Efi asks.
Sojourn whistles. "I know this breaks all kinds of Geneva articles, but…nice job kid."
"Thanks. I'm glad someone thinks so."
If I had lips, I would frown. Efi creating such instruments is not something she should take joy in.
Joy for Efi is music. And Flash Brighton. And puff-puffs. And Junies. It is even playing Vivi's Adventure, even if she's maxed out her high score. It should not involve a Mk. II fusion driver and some kind of spear, mounted on the wall like some ghastly instrument.
"This is yours," Efi says, gesturing to the driver. "Works like the old one, but it uses a heat system rather than a magazine."
"I shall not have to reload?"
"Nup!" She says, smiling. "Just shooty-shooty. Course you have to let it cool down, but your rate of fire has been increased three-fold."
Three too many, I reflect. Nevertheless, there is a certain level of satisfaction, I find, to having my arm returned to me. And all the more so as Efi takes me around the back to some Nulltrooper-shaped targets.
Fear, from that satisfaction. But satisfaction nonetheless. There is no disputing that this fusion driver is more effective than my old one.
But powerful enough to defeat the omnic that defeated me last time? On the way back into the workshop, I ask Sojourn about it.
"I can't identify the model," she says. "Doesn't match anything in any database I've seen. Not in the First Crisis, not in any bot Null Sector has fielded since. But…"
"But?" I ask.
"I've heard things," she says. "Rumours, about some super omnic seen in various cities. Bigger, meaner, faster. I'm not talking a Titan, everyone knows about those monsters, but something…different."
Different. I look at my fusion driver. This too, is different. I too, am different.
For better or worse.
"Hey, cheer up," Efi says, smiling. "There's no guarantee you'll have to face it again."
There is not. But I can tell she fears the prospect.
"If I do, though…" I begin to say.
"You won't," she snaps. "You're going in with the ground forces. If that beast is still around, it's going to be focused on Overwatch."
I don't know what disheartens me more. Her lack of faith in me. Or the faith she holds that the machine will face Overwatch, and she's fine discussing these things as if it's something normal eleven year olds do.
I am Orisa. She is Efi. Neither of us were ever normal.
But I preferred the old abnormal to the new one. And even if I was put in battle before…I preferred wielding a shield to a spear.
"Now this," says Efi, as she taps the weapon, "is a Terra spear." She tries to lift it off the rack, but fails.
"Um, little help?"
Sojourn manages it without difficulty. Those cybernetic arms of hers have come in handy.
"Truth be told, it's a modified spear," the former commander says. "Terra spears were made popular in east Africa during the First Crisis – plasma fire from the tip against enemy omnics, while also providing soldiers a weapon in close combat."
I already know this. The First Crisis had the uncanny effect of making the world look backwards, as well as forwards, when it came to defeating its mechanical enemy. The Crusaders of Germany were a case in point. The Kikuba Brigade of the East African Federation was another. Spears being outmatched by guns in the 20th century didn't hold true in the 21st when omnics were coming to kill you.
"But this Terra spear works differently," says Efi, as she gets out a holo-projector. "Watch."
I do.
I see a holographic representation of myself. Fusion driver in one hand, Terra spear in the other. I watch the holographic me throw the spear into a holographic Nulltrooper, impaling it. Watch it retrieve the spear, and begin to spin it with such speed and force that it is able to reflect their plasma fire.
My optical sensors widen slightly, as holo-me raises the spear upwards, spinning it around, drawing in enemy Nulltroopers, before slamming it into the ground. Sending the omnics flying, and a wave of force out from before me.
"Pretty neat, huh?" Efi asks.
The hologram fades. My fears do not.
"Orisa?"
"What about my shield?" I ask. "My supercharger? My gravitons?"
"I…"
I'm beginning to think that this was not all Efi's plan.
"Tip of the spear," Sojourn murmurs. "Literally, in case you were wondering."
I remain silent, recalling the colonel's words. Once, mere days ago, I was a shield. Now, it seems, I am the sword.
"Orisa?" Efi asks. "Are you alright?"
"I…" I push past the glitch, before saying, "I did not want this."
Efi nods sorrowfully.
"You did not make me for this."
"I didn't," she admits. "And I don't want this either, but-"
"Yes, yes, and I want a pony," Sojourn snaps. "Doesn't mean I expect hoofbeats."
A most strange saying, I reflect. If one was gifted an equine, they would surely not be bequeathed the animal by having it run towards them.
"Just like I didn't want a condition that forced me to get these," Sojourn continues, tapping her mechanical legs. "But I made do. Because the world needed me. Just like it needs both of you. So that means it's time to stop playing around and be a soldier."
Efi flinches, and I step forward. "She is just a child," she said.
"Right. Of course. You can tell that to Null Sector when they're bashing her brains out."
I raise my fusion driver. "Are you threatening my-"
"Stop it!"
We do so. We both look at Efi.
"Stop it, both of you," she says. "My parents are shouting, everyone's shouting, humans and omnics are shouting at each other, and…" She looks at Sojourn. "I didn't think you were like this," she says.
Sojourn remains silent. But I see it, even if Efi doesn't.
Her lips. A quiver.
"I'm leaving with my family on the last flight," Efi says, turning to me. "I don't know if I'll ever see you again, and…and if it is, I don't want shouting to be the last thing we do together."
I am uncertain as to how to proceed. I can tell that Efi is fighting back tears. So do I a) put an arm around her, b) try to brush them aside, or-
"But Orisa, if you don't want to do this," Efi says. "I won't make you. No-one will make you."
Sojourn begins to speak. "Listen to me kid, if you think you can just have your bot sit this fight out, I-"
"You'll what?" She snaps.
I choose option c.
"I'll do it," I say.
This appears to have limited effect on Efi's grief.
"I shall do it," I repeat. "If I must wield a spear to protect Numbani…I shall do so."
"Orisa…"
"It is done," I say.
Efi says nothing. Sojourn, on the other hand, rubs the back of her neck, and mutters something about checking in with the colonel. To my surprise, Efi doesn't seem sad to see her go.
Or, upon reconsideration, that isn't a surprise at all.
It is only after Sojourn leaves that I begin to speak.
"Efi, I-"
I stop speaking, as she breaks into tears and hugs me. Unsure as to what I should do, I put an arm around her.
Mission Clock: 15:29:22
Mission Clock: 15:29:21
Mission Clock: 15:29:20
"Just so you know," Efi says, as she finally breaks away, "you're the bravest person I ever met."
"Analysis…disagreement," I say. "You are the bravest."
She snorts. "Can't exactly meet myself, can I?"
I concede the point.
"Orisa, I need you to follow me."
I oblige. We do not have to travel far, only just to one of the walls of the warehouse, at where there is a step ladder, and table, covered in all kinds of drives.
"Lower your head please."
Once again, I oblige, but I still do not understand what is going on. And as Efi takes one of the drives, climbs the ladder, and opens up the back of my head, I ask her.
"There isn't enough time to train you in the use of the Terra spear," she says. "So I'm downloading these combat routines into your head."
I check the download percentage – 0.005%.
"How long will this take?" I ask.
"Long," Efi whispers, as she backs away. "Twelve hours. And that's only if you go into hibernation mode."
I run the numbers. That will place my time of awakening at around 2:30AM, local time, of the next day. By which time I…
"I'll be gone by then," Efi whispers, twisting one leg behind the other. "Off to…you know, I don't even know where. Niger, I think."
I start to walk towards her and-
"Don't," Efi says. "You need to rest. It could take shorter than twelve hours, it could take more, and…and they need you, Orisa. Numbani needs you more than ever." She wipes away a tear. "Even more than I do."
I look at my creator. This girl.
This young, brilliant girl.
My creator. My friend.
The smartest, kindest person I've ever known.
A girl who should not have to develop weapons of war.
A girl who should not have to grow up in a world being consumed by it.
A girl who should not have had her childhood taken away.
"I shall rest," I say. "I shall fight. And when it is over…I shall wait for you."
Efi smiles at my words, before hugging me one last time.
"I promise."
I have not said all I want. I know many of the world's languages, but eloquence in any of them escapes me.
But I believe Efi knows what I want to say.
Error.
Correction.
I know she does.
…
…
…Tiger Two, this is Zulu Six. Payload on course to omnic mothership.
Confirmed.
Anti-aircraft fire confirmed. Compensating.
Payload delivered in three…two…one…
At 0600 hours, a second sun is briefly born above Numbani, as a hyper-sonic missile strikes against the omnic mothership. It detonates with enough force that every glass window within five klicks is shattered, and every omnic under it compressed through the sheer weight of force.
Against the ship itself, it accomplishes little. But it does give a slight reprieve to the forces that are fighting to retake the city, ground and air alike.
I remain tuned in with the radio feeds, but shove them to the back of my mind. I am at the tip of the spear, and my gaze, my attention, should ever be forward. So with a small army at my back, from infantry, to armoured fighting vehicles, to even mechanized walkers and exo-skeletons that have been purchased from Volskaya Industries, I lead the charge.
A red sun rose this morning. Blood shall be spilt this day.
I woke up three hours ago, with a new combat routine installed. On the field of battle, I find there is no distinction between my mind and body. The spear is at my side as I push forward, deflecting shot after shot as I spin it. It briefly leaves my hand, as I throw it into one Nulltrooper after another, but it always finds its way back into it.
I feared the spear had replaced my shield. But in truth, it still serves as one.
We make good progress. I continue firing. Infantry keep firing. Armoured vehicles keep firing, walkers keep firing, and when they're not, they're tearing apart Null Sector's forces with their bare hands. It is momentum that cannot be maintained indefinitely. As the feeds make clear, our forces are still taking casualties, and unlike Null Sector, we cannot replace them at a whim. But block by block, inch by inch, the spear is being pressed forward. And unless they want to lose control of the city, all Null Sector can do is keep deploying its forces in a bid to stop it.
Mission Clock: 01:11:32
Mission Clock: 01:11:33
Mission Clock: 01:11:34
The numbers are going up this time. Our enemy might seek to take the world back to zero, but they have many numbers to reverse this day.
As the battle rages, I spare a glance to the sky. Fighter jets are launching sortie after sortie against the command carrier, while others are taking out its drop-pods mid-flight. All the while evading the ship's anti-aircraft batteries.
Many of the pilots are skilled enough to evade the barrages.
Many others aren't. And over the feeds…
"Eject eject eject!"
"Break right, break right!"
"Power, shit. Systems dead. Oh, shit!"
I can hear them dying. Just like those beside me.
Mission Clock: 01:20:14
Mission Clock: 01:20:14
Mission Clock: 01:20:14
It is soon, yet not soon enough, that I overhear a feed that brings me joy.
"All units, be advised. Package is heading for the door."
Once more, I look up to the sky. And through the storm of steel and fury, of flies dancing around the elephant, I make out an MV-261 Orca.
I stop in my tracks to watch, even as the fighting rages around me.
They have to get through, I tell myself. They must. If not…
I look around me. At the fallen. At the shattered buildings, jutting from the earth like tombstones.
If not, this was all for nothing. The clock will stop. And we shall, eventually, reach zero.
"Package is delivered. Repeat, package is delivered."
If I had lips, I would smile.
They've done it. They're in.
Now all they have to do is fight their way through the carrier's interior, through Null Sector's most deadly machines, take out the power core, evacuate the ship, and survive everything the omnic aboard can throw at them.
Simple, I tell myself, even if it be a lie.
"Damn it, rustbucket, fire!"
One of the soldiers besides me is talking. Firing as well.
"You glitched or something?"
I am not. And to demonstrate, I begin firing at the enemy.
At the Nulltroopers. At the Jumpers. At…
Oh.
Oh no.
"What the hell is that?"
Those are not my words, though it is my question, as I see the giant, multi-legged omnic come charging towards us.
The omnic that defeated me before.
Black, like the earth.
Red, like blood.
Bellowing, like a rhino.
Shrugging off everything the soldiers around me fire at it.
It is in this moment that I feel fear. An emotion that is not meant for robots – certainly not any of Zero's forces. But fear nonetheless.
Fear, in a sense, is good. It keeps you alive.
It keeps the soldiers around me firing, backing away, as the omnic reaches their lines.
In another sense, it is paralysing. It holds me in place, as I stare.
As I remember.
It has given no sign it recognizes me. Instead, it heads for one of the mechs. Hitting it with enough force to send it flying against a building.
"Fire! Fire!"
The pilot is alive. To the soldiers?
"Damn rustbucket's glitched on us!"
I may as well not be.
But the omnic has now landed atop the mech, and is tearing away at its carapace. Less an elephant or rhino, more a lion or cheetah. And it shall reach its prey very, very soon.
Unless something changes.
Unless I act.
Unless I…
I charge forward, spinning my spear. Slam into the attacking omnic with such force that we both smash into the lobby of a building.
It looks at me, through its nine eyes. It keeps low, like a cat on the hunt.
I, on the other hand, begin to fire with my fusion driver.
The projectiles hit its carapace. Many dissipate on impact. Some, however, break through.
The omnic roars, and charges.
It leaps.
I raise my spear, and catch it mid-flight. Holding it aloft with one hand, while continuing to fire into its stomach. At such close range, it is dealing horrific damage.
"Fool."
Its voice. I know it. It-
It strikes me, sending me sprawling.
"You will never be one of them."
I struggle to get to my feet, but it's already charging.
"But you will die among them."
It charges. I throw my spear.
It impales its right shoulder blade, and it stumbles.
It is all the time I need, as I get to my feet.
To charge. To rip the spear out from its shoulder, spin it above, and slam it against the ground.
This omnic must pay for what it…he's…done.
The force sends the omnic flying against the wall. Firing my fusion driver, spinning my spear, I slam into him with the sheer force of my body.
The omnic falls. I raise the spear. It looks up at me, its nine eyes glowing. Utters but a single word.
It gives me pause, if only for a moment, as I process what it's said.
The moment after that?
I scream.
I bring the Terra spear down into its head. Again, and again, and again.
For Numbani, for what he has destroyed.
For Efi, for what he has taken.
For the world, for what he has sundered.
And…I hold the spear aloft, as I look down at my fallen foe. As three eyes remain, staring at me defiantly.
I bring the spear down for a final time.
For me.
For what I have been forced to become.
"Command ship compromised. Chain reaction confirmed."
For what I hope I shall not be again.
"They did. God willing, they did it!"
I remove the spear from the omnic's body, and return to the streets outside.
Zero, the omnic's controller, has not been destroyed this day. But he has been defeated.
"We've won!"
Today, that is enough.
But even as the soldiers clap and cheer, I fear the day when it is not.
And what I may be forced to do.
To be.
"It wasn't Zero," Sojourn tells me, as techs carry out repairs on my chassis. "He may have controlled that omnic remotely, but his consciousness is God knows where."
I highly doubt that God knows where Null Sector's leader is. But then, I doubt that God, or gods, exist at all. Or if they ever did, they have long since departed this world. The First Crisis showed what happens when the created rise against the creator. Showed what happened when the creator created AIs named after ancient gods.
Death. Destruction. Everything that's happening now.
"Still," the former commander continues, as she sits opposite me in the workshop, "we did good. Numbani's out of Null Sector's hands. But…"
I watch as she scrolls across the datapad she's holding. No doubt she's thinking of every city under Null Sector's occupation. Every city that has yet to feel its wrath. Myself, however, I am thinking of this city. Of the shining jewel it once was.
What I fear it shall never be again.
"All good to go," one of the techs says, as he and his fellows step back from me. "Nice job, rustbucket."
He's smiling, and adjusts his cap. A joke, I reflect. Nevertheless, I wish Efi was here. Her jokes, I found funny.
"Alright, give the girl some space," Sojourn says. "She's had a big day."
We all have, so I don't know why Sojourn is giving me the special treatment. As far as exertion goes, I'm in a better position than many of these meatbags. Even with her cybernetics, I see the strain in Vivian Chase's face. The weariness in her eyes. The sweat on her brow, and the dust in her hair.
I don't know if the techs do. But either way, they file out of the warehouse, leaving the two of us alone. In silence that lasts a good minute before one of us finally speaks.
"You fought alongside the ground forces?" I ask.
Sojourn nods.
"Not with your friends?"
"I told you why I was here."
"And I do not question why."
"Good. Now here's a question – what's eating you up?"
I blink. "I do not consume food."
"No, you don't. But something's eating away at you all the same." She draws up a chair and sits in front of me, arms crossed. "What did Zero say?"
Is she that intuitive, I wonder? Or am I that open?
"Come on," Sojourn says. "If he said anything that could help us find him…anything at all…"
"Nothing like that," I respond. "Only he called me…"
I hesitate, much to my shame. Words should never hurt me. I don't even have bones that stones and sticks could break.
"Orisa?" Sojourn whispers.
Nevertheless, the words cut through me, and I share them with Sojourn.
"He called me a traitor," I say.
The two of us remain in silence. Me, standing by the wall, fusion driver lowered, Terra spear mounted beside me. Sojourn, just sitting there. Arms folded. Her railgun no doubt recharging elsewhere.
"Do you feel like a traitor?" She asks eventually.
"No."
She gives a frown. "That simple, is it?"
"To me, it is. This is my home. My people. I do not betray them by defending them." I glance at the spear. "Nor by being their sword."
Sojourn doesn't say anything, at least at first. It gives me time to reflect. How even with the loss of my literal shield, there was a…thrill, I admit, at being at the spear's point. A fear as well…for the same reason.
"Traitors," Sojourn murmurs. She holds up her right arm, staring at it. Twisting it in a way that no organic arm could manage. "That sounds like him."
Based on what she told me earlier, I agree. But I suspect that's not what's bothering her.
"You know, sometimes I wonder if he'd make an exception for cyborgs," Sojourn murmurs, as her arm twists, and her hand spins. "If there's some dividing line when there's more steel than skin…if I'd ever exist in Zero's world."
I cannot answer that. So I remain silent.
"You know, sometimes I fear it's an addiction," Sojourn continues. "Genji, Cassidy…they didn't choose their implants. They got the short end of the stick."
Genji Shimada. Former Overwatch agent. I do not recognize this Cassidy however, unless it is some kind of alias.
"But me? I just kept having additions." She grunts, as she uses her left arm to remove her right, holding it in the air before us. "Sometimes I wonder if one day, I'm going to wake up, and see nothing of the old me left in the mirror."
"I…believe the world will always recognise you."
Sojourn's eyes, flashing blue, meet mine.
"You would always be my creator's favourite Overwatch member."
She chuckles as she attaches her arm back to her body. "Glad to hear it."
I am glad that she is glad. I am not glad, on the other hand, that I have not heard from Efi.
"Oh, by the way, you might be happy to learn that the Oladeles touched down in Niamey today."
I step forward. "Efi is safe?"
"Safe as they can be." Sojourn tosses the datapad to me. "Have a read."
Why Sojourn did not give this message to me earlier, I cannot say. But I cannot be mad right now, as I read Efi's message.
We're safe.
Dad's tired, mum's fussy, Yewande is angry, Dayo is playing it cool.
Like you! You were incredible out there!
I know I'll see you soon.
All my love,
Efi.
It is short, and to the point. Not like my creator at all. But then, I imagine that she does not have much time to write right now.
"You can read that later," Sojourn says. She gets to her feet. "Follow me. And bring the spear with you."
My optical sensors narrow. "You are neither my master nor my creator."
"No. I'm not. But I might be your commander."
A most peculiar notion, I think. Sojourn has no authority over me. No-one does. Even Efi, I could choose to abandon here and now if I so desired. My mind and body are fully autonomous.
Unlike Zero's forces, I reflect, as I take my spear and attach it to my back via magnets. He may call me a traitor. But at least I am free.
Even if now, I am following Vivian Chase out of the warehouse. Onto the tarmac outside it.
Soldiers are still everywhere. Fighters patrol the sky. Hardware is rolling back and forth, and on one of the runways, I can see a giant passenger jet with a line of refugees. Numbani may be ours, but it is not safe.
"I'll cut to the chase," Sojourn says. "This war we're in? We're losing. Losing badly, in fact."
Something sparks inside me. "But we retook Numbani," I say. "We-"
"Yes, we did, and in the meantime, five more cities fell to Null Sector," Sojourn snaps. "We gain an inch, Null Sector take a mile."
I tap into the airport's network, and scan the latest newsfeeds. I learn that while Numbani has been retaken, New York, Rome, Monte Carlo, St. Petersburg, and Cairo have fallen to the omnics. It is fair to say that we have gained more than an inch, yet also fair to say that Null Sector has gained much more than just a mile.
Hundreds of square miles, actually.
"So I'm going to ask you to come along," Sojourn says. "Stay at the spear's tip. Keep charging, keep fighting, stay with us until we find a way to win this."
"Us?" I ask.
It is a redundant question. But even so, Sojourn gestures to the Orca in the sky. The craft touching down to a gathering ground.
They clap. They cheer. And knowing who is aboard that crowd, what they have done…I cannot blame them.
"The world could always use more heroes," Sojourn said. "But heroes aren't born. They're made." She looks at me. "Heroes like you."
She extends, and does what I have not seen her do since she arrived in Numbani.
She smiles.
I have no lips in which to return the favour.
But I take my hand in hers, and shake it.
I shall be at the spear's tip. I shall be the world's shield.
So that the day may come where I have to wield neither.
When no-one has to.