Making this shit up as I go along. Don't fact check me, because not only are my ideas not backed by facts, facts also don't exist to deny what I'm saying. This is all straight out of my brain. And yes, I realize Hanamura doesn't match this description.
A small chunk of concrete rubble fell from high up above ground level, having chipped off of the massive, shattered, broken eight lane overpass that served as a second sky to the Korean metropolis.
Ever since the second wave of Omnic invasions ushered in by the Talon splinter group known as the Web, the booming urban center has been reduced to a seemingly apocalyptic mass of broken buildings, dead grass here and there, some long-forgotten automobiles laying incapacitated underneath an upheaval of despair and depression. The entire city had been long-since evacuated, believed to have been turned to a Web headquarters of unprecedented proportions. Tags of black webs with seven red eyes in the foreground polluted the sides of buildings, supporting the theory.
Following the success and eventual disbanding of Overwatch was a dissimilar event in the terrorist group Talon. Rather than disbanding after the Omnics had failed to usher in the destruction they had hoped for, the cell diverged, shattering into one main group, the a Web, and an assortment of splinter groups. It is believed that the Web is headed by the venomous sniper goddess known as "Widowmaker," and it would explain the name and tags, but Amélie has not been seen since the creation of the group, so no conclusive evidence can point either way.
Hanamura has become a dead zone for not only military action but also general reconnaissance; some futuristic technology has been inhibiting any satellite pictures of the area, and the few aircraft that have ventured close enough to see inside the city limits were mysteriously and abruptly shut down, crashing to a catastrophic, fiery end. Contributing to the loss of the area. No drones seemed to be able to permeate the theoretical technology barrier surrounding the city. All this culminated to a stigma that warded off even the most ambitious footsoldiers. No manned missions have been attempted in the area.
No manned missions had been attempted in the area.
The chunk of concrete fell at the feet of the D. Va mech. Hana Song, the mech pilot, stopped moving, staring through the thick darkness at the obtrusive piece of mass. Looking up through the unique bulletproof yet translucent material that served as her cockpit, searched for the source of the bombardment, expecting to see some foe waiting for her, challenging her; like some preliminary boss battle for the new area. But, rather than releasing her anxiety on the poor soul that dared venture in her way, D. Va could do nothing more than take a deep breath and push her mech forward into the potential clutches of the enemy.
Nothing. Still, nothing.
The expedition, which began at dusk in the hopes of being somewhat covert, had gone off without a hitch, first in the best of ways and next in the worst of them. Originally, there were good vibrations surrounding Song's mission; her mech, engineered to be powered by a unique engine that was pioneered by the omniums in the great Omnic Crisis was the only mechanical anything that had managed to penetrate the invisible forcefield surrounding Hanamura. With a victory cheer, the headstrong, confident professional gamer had headed off at full blast into the impending chaos. The bad part, however, was that there was no chaos. Just an eerie silence as though the entire city was waiting, holding its breath, baiting her in until she could not possibly escape and it was far beyond too late. Like the spider weaves its web to the curious, unsuspecting fly, Hanamura seemed to be attracting the cute Korean girl, and she was already mech-deep in the thick silk.
But where was the spider?