Interlude: Mercury

The blood froze between Mindflayer's fingers. The cold of the rejuvenated blizzard buffeted his joints, and made his stride slower by the second. Even so, he smiled. He could not be stopped. Somehow he knew.

Stripped of his abilities by the restraining bolt, Mindflayer's only avenue of escape was physical violence, which suited him just fine. The guards of the Icebox were still terrified to set foot in the security Exos, and tried to escort him back to the Powered Wing armed only with guns. His metal body gave him all the advantage he needed. As the turbolift hit bottom, he broke the first guard's leg with a swift downward stomp. His scream was drowned out by the gunshot as Mindflayer's second escort opened fire. Mindflayer took the bullet in the corner of his head, and it spewed black ichor onto the sparking walls.

His jagged grin widened as he ducked under his gun and threw it aside. Mindflayer roared and laughed as he caved in the escort's skull on the wall.

"Now we match," he said, kissing the red crater on the dead guard's temple.

The turbolift's door opened. The guard with the broken leg suddenly saw through the pain, remembered where he was. In terror, he fumbled for his sidearm, but Mindflayer's foot came down on his throat. His neck was suspended in the gap between the lift and the bottom floor of the compound.

Mindflayer ignored the choked pleas for mercy from the incapacited, soon to be dead guard. He moved his finger slowly and theatrically over the control panel. He looked down at the guard, wagged his fingers 'goodbye,' and hit the button for the helipad level. A staccatto scream was silenced by the crunch of separating bones, and Mindflayer never stopped smiling.

Overwatch was long gone, and so his escape was easily accomplished, and now it was all but guaranteed. He was a God, after all.

Before him, silhouetted in the razor snow of the antarctic, there was a man. Easily seven feet tall, bald, and broadly built.

Before Mindflayer knew it, the figure was standing directly before him. A specter from the golden age.

"Mr. Thaddeus Ellis," said Doomfist. "It's been too long."

Mindflayer was flying backward before he could even process the pain of Doomfist's strike. The snow coated him as he slid for a few more feet on the ground. Mindflayer rolled over and jumped up to his feet. Or he would have, if Doomfist's boot was not on his back, keeping him down.

"But that's not even your real name, is it?" Doomfist mused, as calmly as if the two were sharing coffee. "No, I recall another one."

The blizzard whistled, accenting Doomfist's pause. Mindflayer tried to think of some way out of this. Doomfist couldn't do this to him, it wasn't fair.

"When the original God Program split," Doomfist said. "We theorized that there were ninety-nine altogether. Naturally arising from the fact that each of the shattered ones, Anubis, Loki, were manifestations of one of the original ninety-nine subroutines. We tracked down what we could, but in the end, some thirty-seven of them remained unaccounted for."

Mindflayer pushed himself up, only for Doomfist to slam him down again.

"I began to wonder where they might have gone," Doomfist continued. "Perhaps some went into hiding. Still others, perhaps, were not even aware of what they were. But I don't think either of those apply to you, Mercury."

Ellis' mind reeled at the mention of the name. He had known, yes. Maybe not consciously. The name felt right. Mercury. The connotations felt right too. Very right. So who did Doomfist think he was to keep his foot on a God?

"So," said Doomfist, removing his foot. "Now that you know I'm here for Mercury, and not for Mindflayer. Let's talk."

"Fine," said Mindflayer, Mercury, Ellis, whatever his name was now, he couldn't even seem to decide for himself anymore. "Fine."

Mercury threw a wild punch at Doomfist, hitting the man's face squarely. Doomfist didn't flinch. He merely stared down at the Omnic, and dared him to try again. Which he did.

This time, Doomfist's hand shot up and grabbed the arm. In one fluid motion, he whirled around and ripped the arm off, splattering the snow with black.

Mercury screamed, turned tail, and ran.

I'm a god, Mercury thought, sprinting as fast as he could, a God! Doomfist had no right. No right to act like I'm nothing!

Mercury's leg fell out from under him, a bullet piercing his black, metallic skin. He yelped and tumbled back to the ground.

From the blizzard emerged the third and final player. Doomfist's pet, the Widowmaker, her rifle still smoking.

"No!" Mercury shrieked.

"Stop resisting if you want to keep what you have left," Doomfist said. "I can work with less."

"What are you doing?" Mercury asked. "After all these years, why?"

"I didn't want our meeting to go this way, Mercury. Once, you and your kind helped make humanity strong. And you continued to sow chaos long after the rest. I value your contribution. But now I need your help again."

Doomfist grabbed hold of Mercury's head, and began to tear.

"It is time," Fist said, "to meet your brothers."