Bumped the rating up to M for violence/injuries
„Alright people, gather round."
Jack motioned to the holographic table, a topographic map of a moderately-sized town and the surrounding countryside on displayed.
„Fifteen minutes ago we received intel on a situation that definitely needs our attention. This," he motioned towards the projection, „is the city of Oujda in Morocco, right on the border to Algeria. As you can see, there's a huge refugee camp on its outskirts, filled with people fleeing the civil war."
A quick gesture made the display zoom in on a three-dimensional representation of the camp, a sprawling slum of ramshackle huts, tents, and shipping containers. They were all arranged around a lone actual building.
„This is the central structure, where the camp leaders gather; but it mostly serves as a hospital. We were tipped off that someone plans to blow it up."
The reactions around the table were mixed, and just like expected. Mei-Ling gasped in shock while Reinhardt shook his head and muttered under his breath. Both Ana and Fareeha crossed their arms in front of their chests and cocked their heads to the side, gazing intently at the hologram. Angela would have found that unintended synchronicity funny if she herself wasn't busy running numbers in her head. The number of people who could be in the building, based on its size. How many of those would be killed, how many injured, depending on the type and yield of the explosives used. How they would best go about setting up triage areas, what sort of supplies they'd have on-site, what they would need to bring with them. Maybe, just maybe, they could even make it there in time and stop the bomb from going off in the first place.
Decidedly too man question marks for her taste, but she'd learned to adjust to rapidly changing circumstances. It was the only way to survive as a battlefield medic.
"How quickly could local authorities be at the scene?" she finally asked.
"A few minutes, I suppose," Jack answered, "but they won't come. They don't give a shit about these refugees. The locals see them as leeches and parasites. We've got to do this ourselves."
He looked around the assembled people meaningfully.
"Luckily it's close-by, and our Orcas only need about half an hour to get there. We'll keep the team small, I don't want to spook the bombmakers by showing up in force." A brief pause for dramatic effect. Angela hated these pauses.
"Zaryanova, the Amaris, Vasvani, and Doc. Suit up and meet me in the hangar in fifteen. Oxton, get the second Orca ready for a rapid take-off just in case. I got a bad feeling about this."
Their reactions to the obvious conclusion of the meeting were equally varied. Aleks, Ana, and Fareeha, all professional soldiers, snapped to crisp salutes before turning on their heels and marching out. Satya gazed at the hologram a little while longer, until she had found whatever she was looking for, and quietly shuffled out of the room.
Angela lingered until everyone had left and only Jack remained. They'd worked together long enough to know when one wanted a private conversation with the other.
"Something on your mind, Doc?" Jack asked after he shut off the projector, plunging the room into brief darkness before the overhead lights slowly faded in.
"Yes, Jack." Angela replied evenly. "Do you know anything about this mission that you haven't told us?"
He looked at her with a frown, hesitating for a moment. "What makes you think I do, Angela?"
She chuckled mirthlessly. "Don't play me for a fool, Jack!" Angela snapped, gaze as icy as her voice was hard. There'd been no love lost between them ever since Angela had discovered Jack had survived the explosion at the Overwatch HQ. And what part he'd played in it.
"Risking our only backup Orca is hardly according to protocol, and if there's one thing about you that hasn't changed it's your stiffy for rules and regs. So tell me, Jack...what haven't you told us?"
He held her stare for a second before he slumped into a char, wearily running a hand through his short hair.
"I'm not sure how accurate that intel is. And I'm worried about the source."
Angela crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Who is the source, then?"
"I don't know." he simply stated. "That's not what worries me, though. It's how we got it."
Angela furrowed her brows in confusion, waiting for him to elaborate.
"A folder with all the info just...popped up on my computer. Literally. I have no idea where it came from, and Athena is unable to trace its source. And if someone can hack Athena, without her even realizing it..."
Angela's eyes went wide when she realized the possible implications. Each and every one of them could be compromised in some form or another if a hacker got root-level access to Athena's systems.
"My god." she whispered.
"Yeah, I know." Jack replied with a sigh. "Well, there isn't much we can do about it right now. Winston is already working on a hard disconnect from the outside, and a thorough check of all her systems. And meanwhile..."
"Meanwhile we've got a job to do, just in case the intel is actually legitimate." Angela finished his thought. She sighed as well, not liking this new development in the slightest.
They were silent in contemplation for a few moments before Jack slapped his thighs and got up from the chair. "Well, we should get ready. We've already wasted enough time here."
Angela wouldn't call that time wasted, but she had to agree that she would be hard-pressed to make it to the hangar within the remaining ten minutes. Putting on the suit had always been a pain.
Among Jack's many skills that he seemed to pull out of thin air was being able to pilot the Orca. The ride wasn't as smooth as it would have been with Lena on the helm, but he got them there quickly nonetheless. He had just set down the VTOL on the outskirts of the camp, about one and a half klick from the makeshift hospital, when the plane groaned and shuddered from the impact of a massive blast wave.
"Shit." Jack hissed under his breath. Alright, people," he said out loud, "this has gone from a combat OP to search and rescue. Everyone do what you do best. I want each of you to still carry some small arms, just in case."
Angela was about to protest, but kept her thoughts to herself. They didn't have the time for a lengthy argument, and she doubted she'd be able to convince him anyway. She needed to convince him to do something different anyway.
"Jack, let everyone else get off and then fly me and Fareeha right over the blast side. We can do an airdrop."
He opened his mouth, no doubt to protest, but she cut him off before he could even utter a syllable.
"No buts, Jack. That's where we're needed the most."
He was quite for a second before he nodded. "Okay. You heard her, people, get off and make it there on foot. Double time!"
He didn't even bother raising the ramp when he took off again, and within a minute they were hovering over the rapidly rising plume of thick, black smoke.
"Take care of yourselves out there!" he shouted over the roar of the engines coming through the open door. Angela shared a brief glance with Fareeha 'no, it's just Pharah now' and the leapt out of the plane. She thought she could hear Jack shout "everyone you can fit on the damn plane!" before there was just the noise of the engines, and the whoosh of air rushing past her ears. About sixty feet off the ground she let her wings flare, braking her free fall, until she was gently floating to the ground and touched down with the grace and fluidity of years of experience
Everyone's eyes were trained on her, and she could only imagine what she must've looked like to them in her suit, gliding out of the dark column of smoke like a mythical being. She'd designed the Valkyrie with such situations in mind. Pharah's arrival, by contrast, seemed to startle them, even though she'd left her rocket launcher on the plane and exchanged it for a small submachine gun, awkwardly slung around her shoulder.
"Do they understand your Arabic here?" she asked, her intention clear.
"Different accent, but it should be fine." her companion replied. "I'll translate for you."
She shared a brief smile with Pharah before she raised her voice. "Everyone remain calm, we are here to help you!"
Pharah's melodious voice picked right up, and soon they were swarmed by desperate people, either having been hurt themselves or begging for aid for a relative. She quickly got to work, assessing wounds and administering treatment, either through her caduceus staff or the supplies she'd brought with her. And with that aid came the part of her job she hated the most: having to send people away, either because their injuries were too light to demand immediate attention, or too severe to be treated at all. She knew, of course, that every minute she spent treating someone who wouldn't make it anyway was a minute she couldn't spend on someone who still had a chance. But the emotional part of her mind wasn't bothered by such things as logic and reason, and kept a constant tally to torment her with later. Searing into her brain the image of a boy who was desperately gasping, drowning in his own blood with a piece of rebar sticking out of his chest; a woman who'd been too close to the explosion, whose polyester clothes had melted into her skin.
She'd remember the despair in the keening wails of a mother whom she'd had to tell that there was nothing she could to for her child. The vitriolic hate in the eyes of a man who held on to his dying wife she couldn't save. Sometimes being recognized was a curse as much as a blessing. Those people knew her as Mercy, the symbol of hope, the prodigy who had cured death. If she'd realized just how much those headlines would come to haunt her, she'd have pushed back harder, fought to get the actual truth into the news, instead of those gross oversimplifications and exaggerations.
Because of course she hadn't cured death. All she'd done was create a method to pull someone back from the brink, get their heart pumping again, by expending a stupefying amount of nanites. Nanites who could patch over wounds, who could act as temporary replacements for red blood cells, who could resume carrying oxygen to the brain. At least long enough to get someone to a hospital. And that just wasn't feasible in a disaster zone such as this. She could treat hundreds of people with the amount of nanites she'd need to resuscitate just a few, and while she hated doing it, in these situations medicine had to be treated as a numbers game. Ensure the best possible care for the greatest possible number of people, given the circumstances.
Things got a little more manageable after the rest of the team arrived, about fifteen minutes after they'd touched down. Shrike, Symmetra, and Soldier:76 set up a triage area, separating people based on the severity of their injuries; while Pharah and Medved* went to work digging through the rubble with the help of locals, trying to rescue anyone who might still be alive in the ruins of the building.
After about two hours the most severe cases had been treated to the best of their abilities, but there were still many people who were in critical condition. Which was why she was slightly annoyed when Pharah called for immediate assistance.
"Can't this wait, Phar..."
"We found someone in the debris, a little girl!" Pharah replied over the radio. "She still alive, but needs help now!"
Mercy hesitated for a second, evaluating the situation. All the injured here were at least stable, if critical in some cases. It wouldn't hurt if she went to take a look.
"On my way." she replied.
She picked her way through the rubble, having to crawl on all fours at one point to fit through a small hole, and then came upon a slightly larger space where she could walk almost upright. It would have been pitch dark if not for the flashlights built into Pharah's suit, and they were trained on a small girl who was stuck under a large slab of concrete. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly, and her twitching indicated that she was at least somewhat conscious. Pharah had removed her helmet and was talking to her, murmuring words Mercy didn't know, but understood well enough through her tone. "Everything is going to be fine."
Mercy knelt down next to the girl, taking her hand and smiling reassuringly.
"Hey there, little one, how are you holding up? Do you have a name?"
Pharah translated for her.
"Maysa." the girl replied with a shaky voice.
"It means graceful." Pharah said quietly.
"That's a beautiful name, Maysa. I'm Angela, and I'm here to help you."
She hoped she didn't just lie to the girl. With a motion she directed Pharah to shine her lights directly at the girl's legs which were trapped beneath the steel beam. She pulled out a flashlight of her own and shone it into the small space between the ground and the beam, and physically deflated. She had lied.
"There's nothing we can do for her." she said, and suddenly Pharah's lights were on her, making her squint her eyes.
"But...but why? She's just stuck under that beam! If we get Zarya in here we can pull her out and she'll be fine. You will make her fine, right?"
Mercy sighed and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.
"She's been trapped here for too long. She has crush syndrome. The muscles in her legs are dead and dying, releasing tons of toxic chemicals. Right now they're stuck in the the dead tissue, but as soon as we relieve the pressure they'll rush back into her bloodstream and overwhelm her kidneys. She'll be dead within fifteen minutes. I just don't have the resources I'd need to prepare her for extraction."
Pharah was stunned. The girl was in pain, constantly asking for her parents, wanting to get out of there, but...she seemed fine otherwise.
"What..." she had to swallow before she could get the words out, "what if we amputated her legs? Then the chemicals wouldn't get into her bloodstream either."
As if she hadn't thought about that already. "She's already lost a lot of blood, and I don't have much of my nanite solution left. I can't spend it all on her, Pharah."
"Yes you can, Angela!" Pharah yelled, startling both her and the girl. "She's just a child, you...you have to do something!"
"And what would you have me do, Fareeha?!" she yelled back. "There's dozens of people still in critical condition up there! Children, like her. Parents, siblings. And most of them won't make it if I can't treat them with my nanites. Do you want to tell their relatives they had to die because I spent all of it on one girl?!"
She sighed again, willing herself to calm down. She couldn't take out her frustrations on Fareeha.
"But she's...I...that's not...that's not fair."
Angela almost spat when she heard that word.
"That's how the world is, Fareeha. Harsh, cruel, unfair. That's the kind of fucked up stuff I have to deal with every single time I put on this damned suit. I thought you of all people would understand."
She regretted that last sentence as soon as she'd said it, but it was too late to take it back. She pinched bridge of her nose.
"I'm sorry, 'reeha. I didn't mean to...I'm sorry."
Fareeha didn't answer, at first, only replying with a cool, dispassionate "Understood." after a few moments. Fareeha was gone, and Pharah was back. And it was high time for Mercy to replace Angela once again, too. She reached into her bag and pulled out a quick-shot injector, handing it to Pharah after slotting an ampule in its slot. "Give her this when the pain becomes too much, but no more than two shots., and at least forty minutes apart. She has a few hours left down here. I'll try to find her family, so they can say goodbye."
Pharah nodded once, and Mercy turned to leave again, hesitating when she saw wet tracks glistening on Pharah's cheeks. She reached out with her gloved hand, wiping the tears away with her thumb.
"I'm sorry." she whispered, before turning and walking out as quickly as she could. There were still many people who needed her help.
Nine hours after the explosion they finally received aid from the local authorities, after news of the explosion had traveled around the world, and the Moroccan government was faced with harsh critique and pressure over their inaction. Fifteen hours after the explosion Mercy slumped into a chair, getting as comfortable as she could with the wings on her back. She'd done everything she could. Beyond this point, she'd have to trust the local doctors to do their job. She was completely spent, physically and emotionally, and couldn't wait to get out of the sticky suit and under a hot shower, and into her bed.
Maysa had died two hours after she'd left her in that dark hole, with no one but Fareeha to give her comfort. They hadn't managed to find her family. She would have cried if she had had any energy left. Even after almost two decades in this job, she had trouble detaching herself from these situations, especially if children were involved. The optimist in her said that this was a good thing, that it meant she hadn't turned into a bitter, jaded cynic, like many doctors did. That brief thought forced a derisive scoff from her throat.
"Hey."
Her eyes snapped open at the timid greeting, and she saw Fareeha, standing there awkwardly.
"Hey yourself." she replied, and couldn't help the tired smile that crept onto her face. A smile that fell immediately when she realized why she was standing there awkwardly.
"Listen, about earlier..." she started, but Fareeha cut her off.
"No, you don't have to say anything. I understand. I got attached, got too emotional, and...I understand. I'm sorry"
Angela stood up with a groan and wound her arms around Fareeha's waist, resting her head on an armored pauldron.
"No, Fareeha, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you. I..." She trailed off, not knowing what else to say.
"Let's just get home and talk about it tomorrow, ya amar. When we aren't about to fall asleep while standing up."
She chuckled lightly, mostly because she could already feel her eyelids droop.
"Sounds like a plan, Bärli."
Their quiet moment was interrupted by Jack. "Come on you two, we have to make a quick detour on our way back."
They both groaned simultaneously, bur were immediately alert when his next words registered.
"Moroccan police have picked up two people who tried to cross the border to Algeria, carrying a large amount of explosives. They've asked us to do the interrogation."
this turned out way longer than I had intended, so I might have to add another chapter to my original estimation. Oh well
*Medved: it kinda bothers me that some agents have code names or monikers, and others don't. Shrike is rather obvious I hope, and I just made up this one for Zarya. It means Bear in russian (if google didn't lie to me, that is)
song of the day is Bizancio by Toundra
tell me what you think.
cheers