*Malaysia: Somewhere in the jungle*
Using the cover of darkness, the guerilla fighter darted from store to store, his senses heightened as he observed the Bastion units. 3 remained at the ground floor, moving around in a very static patrol route. The other 2 are taking turns to search each floor, one unit is already moving to the third floor, while the other unit remain on the second. Which gives the Corporal roughly 5 minutes to reach his primary weapon.
"No pressure, I can get there in 4" he thought to himself.
He traced a path back to his inventory and took a deep breath.
"Just like old times" he encouraged himself before he disappeared into the darkness.
*5 minutes later*
A Bastion Unit, one of the most dangerous weapon to be deployed onto the battlefield by the Omnics, capable to level this entire mall and still have half of its arsenal. So 1 man against 5 Bastion units? Impossible odds.
At least that was what Quillion thought when he first saw them entering the mall, however, upon closer inspection, he noticed that these units are heavily rusted and ill maintained, its movements are slowed and its reaction time are lagging, but most importantly, these models do not have a sentry mode.
He smiled at this revelation as he took aim with his rifle above the unsuspecting Bastion walking under him. He has a chance.
With a deep breath, he pulled the trigger.
The effect was immediate. The bullet penetrated the back of the Bastion easily, its explosion tore it apart from the inside. It fell to its knees as it struggles to turn around to see its assailant. Quillion slid down from the statue and ran towards it, ending its "life" by pressing his revolver to the back of its head and shot it execution style.
All 4 Bastions reacted and fired upon the source of the noise, destroying everything their bullets hit. Quillion barely had time to dart across the mall while intentionally putting as much distance as he could from the clothes store. He saw the Bastion unit patrolling the second floor and quickly fired 3 shots at it. He watched in satisfaction as 3 burning holes appeared on the Bastion's body.
However, it remained operational and quickly retaliated by firing wildly at his general direction, which Quillion has already relocated from, though shattered glass and rubble continued to rain down on him, cutting his face and arms as he ran.
"That's my last cover" he thought, noticing the last position he could use as cover is too close to Tracer while the rest of the mall has been obliterated by the previous rocket barrage
"Guess I have no choice but to do it then…"
Flipping his fire selector to his personal "Get Wrecked" label, the rifle hummed significantly louder at this command.
Closing his eyes, he focused his body to produce more adrenaline, he felt his body began to ache from the strain, his heart beating unnaturally fast, he felt light headed and his vision become sharper. 2 seconds. Only 2 seconds.
"Ready" he thought to himself before stepping out of cover.
The average rate of fire a Bastion unit can deliver per second is about 5 rounds. To the adrenaline filled Quillion, they were only firing one shot every 2 seconds. He stood up out of cover and took aim at the seemingly frozen Bastions.
*First Second*
In quick successions, he squeezed 4 shots for each Bastion, stepping quickly towards his right as he shoots, leaving a trail of bullet casing suspended in the air and ensuring an empty chamber as the weapon slams in the next bullet.
*Second Second*
He ejected the empty magazine by lifting his gun, the empty container now hanging in the air while the other hand grabbed a full magazine from his pocket and slamming it into the gun.
*Third Second*
Quillion's adrenaline disappeared like vapor and his efforts were immediate. As if someone pressed play, all 4 Bastions were met with an array of extremely accurate shots, all 16 bullets blew up instantaneously in each Bastion while the casings and magazine dropped to the ground simultaneously.
He staggered and dropped to his knees as the vertigo was immediate, causing him to vomit while glancing at the now burning Bastions. Each have been obliterated, 3 huge holes in vital areas of its motherboard and each head has a significant chunk missing.
He smiled at this victory and took a deep breath of relief… Choking immediately.
The flames from the rockets and his explosive rounds have spread and reached the drug stash, filling the air with its poisonous fumes.
"Oh shi…" Quillion thought, trying to crawl towards Tracer, the fumes now filling his lungs, making the vertigo worse. "Just… A little bit further…". His arms began to feel heavy. Too heavy. His world spun like a weaver performance.
"Stay focus Corporal…" he told himself.
The heat is intensifying. He's almost there, he just need to grab her and run.
"Tracer…" his world spun into darkness.
*Venice: Talon Base*
Moira is back in her office, her notes scattered throughout the table, reading and re-reading everything, desperately searching for something to speed up her work. Outside of her door is the laboratory, now alive with a flurry of activity. Everyone was recalled to work overtime, their leader forcing them to push for results to meet the new deadline.
Deep down she knew their efforts are in vain, there was no way, scientifically, that their current project could be possible within 2 months. But the image of Doomfist or even Reaper coming after her is too much to bear, she will have to further break the laws of science to make this work.
Slamming both hands on the table she groaned in frustration. She already pushed this project to its absolute limits, grasping around in the dark in unexplored territory and pushed the study of genealogy deeper than anyone dared to.
"There is one more method that I have not tried" she thought to herself. She has not adopted this method as the risks that came with it are too high to ignore, but the new deadline has forced her hand to risk the risks.
Fading out of her office, she reappeared inside the "Nursery" where the "Discarded" are kept, orphans no older than 7 whom were rejected by society are kept in horrific environments. Some are left dangling in glass boxes over simulations of skies or mountains, some exposed to extreme heat or cold, some are kept in endless violent simulations, but none have yet shown signs of the genetic mutations Moira has hoped to achieve.
However, only one child had shown some progress, though only slightly. Only one had evolved further than any of her test subjects of Subject Soldier. As there isn't enough time to wait for another subject, it is now all or nothing. Entering room 28, she saw the scientist studying a child carefully as her appearance change ever so slightly to the pictures in front of her.
"How is SS28?"
The scientist jumped in shock at the sudden appearance of his boss before regaining his posture. He set aside his clipboard on his desk and replied "She has progress further into her evolution. It is a pity that she will be disposed before she reaches her full potential"
"She will not be disposed" Moira said while staring at SS28, ignoring the scientist's surprised look. "Proceed with Phase 3 of the experiment"
"But… Dr. O'Deorain, she is not ready for that, the risks are –" the scientist began before he notice that he is thirsty. Really thirsty. He tried to talk but found his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, too dry to even make a noise. His heart began beating erratically and his muscles throbbing painfully as he felt his life literally slipping away. He fell to the floor gasping before he saw a purple trail emitting from Moira's right hand.
"We will proceed with Phase 3, understood?" she said calmly, now her eyes fixated at him struggling on the floor, a sadistic smile appearing on her lips. With great efforts, he nodded. She raised her left hand, emitting the strange yellow gas over him, allowing him to live another day.
"Very good… Now proceed"
She looked back at SS28 and was satisfied to see her project before her. Though she is still only 6 years old, she is staring back at them as if she understood every word they had said and have already copied half of Moira's face onto her own.