Chapter 1:

Genji Part I

There's a legend told to the local children in Hanamura that is used to warn them of the dangerous yakuza that thrives not too far away. They tell of the Shimada Clan's late masters. That each man to come to power is part of the Shimada bloodline, and it is said that when enemies have tried to strike them down, they failed. Though the history of assassinated leaders is short, the very few witnesses have told of the terrifying stories they watched from the corners of their eyes. When a Shimada is struck down, through throat, brain or heart, they do not die immediately. The master is said to be possessed by some monster, a light would fill the wound and the Shimada would rise again to strike down his killer. It would all happen in just two seconds, and then the body would collapse, an empty shell.

Strike Commander Morrison was personally leading a small group of Overwatch's forces, including Angela Zielger, to investigate the notorious Shimada Clan. The den of assassins had been on the to-do list for quite a while, and with their current leader dead by mysterious forces, they were certainly going to be in some disarray. Jack Morrison himself had accompanied the mission to see what this clan was all about through a first-hand experience. Everyone else impatiently waited for their arrival. Two men and their sniper were playing cards.

The pilot, intently focused on flying the ship, interrupted their game as the group reached the peak of their match. "Pack your game up, lads, we're approaching Hanamura."

They took a minute, but eventually everybody came down to their last card and the sniper slapped his last card in the middle of the table with a sly smile, "Eight tricks, I win."

"Good game," His opponent sighed, the other muttered something about cheating.

The strike commander gave a small grunt of amusement, but let them clean up their game.

"Connor, scan outside, we're going to land on the edge of the leftmost balcony of that shrine," Morrison ordered. The sniper complied and left in the direction of the cockpit with a crooked salute.

"All clear," he said through the comm a minute later.

The airship started to quiet down and slow causing the team to feel uneasy. Nervousness was expected, and it wasn't a bad thing. It makes you cautious and more alert, as long as you can control it, and Shimada Castle might be one of the most unpredictable places they would go to. Unpredictable and organized. There was a soft click and the large door in front of them opened. The soft evening light filtered in and created long shadows as everyone stepped out. The pilot closed up behind them, leaving to search for a landing spot out of sight. Before anyone moved, Morrison contacted the sniper.

"Connor?"

"Located at the right window, sir, clear view."

Morrison gave a short nod to his team and they moved into the foyer. All seemed fine as they gave quick glances around the area, no one was there, and the room was dimly lit except for the few lamps dotted around the building. They continued forward, wanting to make their way to the stairs on the other side, but were interrupted by the disturbed noise of one of the men.

"Uh, guys?" The man was looking down and lifting his foot from a wet streak of blood.

Everybody had turned around, but Angela had only taken one look at the streak, and immediately whipped her head around to check the rest of the surrounding area, pushing past the tiny group.

"Connor, are you sure nobody was in here or left?" Her foreign accent filtered through everyone's comm. Her eyes were trained on a certain banner, and the contents beneath it.

"Pretty sure," answered the sniper with a contradictory tone, and they saw him glance back in their direction.

The rest of the team, confused by the perhaps recent incident, exchanged glances and followed Angela to where she was now kneeling, muttering every German curse she knew.

Her hand was pressed to a neck wound on a battered and bloody young man. Everyone behind the doctor looked near terrified, each one had seen death many times, but not one so… terrible. They moved away to give the doctor room, but Angela was no longer paying attention to her surroundings. Her clothes were already stained, and her fingers dripping wet from trying to stop what she could. The doctor put pressure on the cut and was answered with a gurgled grunt from the dying man. Satisfied that he was still alive, she grabbed the Caduceus Staff, smearing the sticky red liquid on it as well, and pressed the end to the same wound she'd been holding before. A bright swarm of nanites surrounded the wound and went to work stopping any more bleeding while stitching the wound bit by bit back together. For a few seconds she waited, making sure any and all damaged had been fixed in that certain area, then deactivated the staff. Angela gave herself a small, seldom smile of victory, the man would live perhaps long enough for her to save him completely.

The small victory was short-lived as Connor spoke up.

"Hey, I think there's-"

The sniper cut himself off and trained his rifle on something outside the window. He could've sworn something black had just moved across the bridge.

Suddenly aware that they were in enemy territory again, the soldiers all lifted their guns, moving into a defensive circle around Angela and waiting for some sort of movement that might betray someone's presence. Christoph, the same man to find the blood, would have sworn he saw something after the mission on the loft above them. However, even if had wanted to something, a loud cark! interrupted him.

Everyone flinched as the silence was suddenly filled by the cawing and flapping wings of a bird. A grackle flew from the bridge directly across the sniper's view, who was tempted to whack the bird for scaring him.

"Sorry, guys, false alarm. Just a damn bird."

Everyone let out a collective sigh of relief, Angela hadn't even batted an eye.

"You can never be too careful in a place like this," Morrison answered then turned to the doctor who was still trying to fix what she could.

"Angela, do you want to head back?" He asked, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, he grew to personally know Angela, and he knew she could get stressed very easily when it came to dire situations. "We can always come back to this mission another day."

The doctor nodded her head as she held the young man's jaw together and continued to press the staff against areas, allowing streams of medical nanites to fix him. He weakly protested, not even able to close his mouth. Morrison directed one of his men to pick the injured man up. Angela stressed on the part of gently picking him up.

Commander Morrison called the ship, and soon all five men and women, plus a body, had climbed on and left as quickly as they came.

It had been less than 5 minutes.

Inside the ship, Angela quickly took charge. Her German accent combined with the harsh tone she used made her sound intimidating, and no one hesitated to follow orders. They laid the injured man on a temporary medical bed, and the doctor, after sanitizing herself, quickly began to do what she could with limited resources in a less stressed environment.

Demanding bandages, she quickly wrapped up the poor man. Both his arms, which meant the stub, were wrapped in white and already fading to red. Some men were disturbed and tried to keep far away. Someone joked about bringing the severed arm onboard to try and lighten the mood, it just made everyone more disgusted.

Angela was forced to remove the tattered shirt to both check for infections, and simply get rid of the filthy thing. When she managed to lift it, her heart skipped a beat.

I must admit, he has an impressive build.

Straightening her face, she continued to work, listening to the occasional whimper of protest the young man made. Between that and the soft whirring of the engine, it was absolutely silent.

"I'll have you fixed up in no time, but we'll have to wait a few hours," she murmured more to herself than anyone. Grabbing the very useful Caduceus Staff, she carefully pressed it against most of the heavily bleeding areas to at least stop blood from pouring out. The nanites worked like magic, they flooded into the wounds, helping regenerate platelets and temporarily stopping the flow of blood as she stitched some of the areas together. It helped a lot, but it would only be temporary, Angela needed all the technology she had back at the lab. The last impactful thing she could do on this ride was secure the young man's jaw. Despite the young man's weak struggle and protests, it was a rather easy task. She aligned the two broken parts while closing the mouth then tightly, but carefully, wrapped a bandage around his head to keep it in place. It looked a bit ridiculous and she couldn't help but let a small smile slip. However, it was more of pity than amusement.

After that, she sat. Helplessly watching her patient shift in between consciousness and unconsciousness.

Someone offered to call Overwatch's medical center, but Angela waved him off, it was one of the first things she had done. All they could do was wait now.