To be completely honest, they probably should have anticipated that it was a trap. What they would never have guessed, though, was that it seemed to be backed by the Australian government – these blokes had an arsenal so heavy the Junkers could have hired their own private militia and still not stood a chance. They weren't even given a chance to explain themselves, let alone try to resist, before they each had a dozen soldiers or whatever tasing and pinning them to the ground.

Turns out the survivors of the Outback were not exactly welcomed representatives of Australia. They were unsightly at best, global reputation destroyers at worst. The ALF and their shenanigans had already taken a bite out of Australia's international rep. Allowing ruffians like the Junkers to escape and spread to other countries? That was, apparently, unacceptable.

So went the story of Hana Song, professional gamer-turned-Junker, who now sat in a maximum security holding cell by herself, stripped of everything but her crop top and jeans. How stupid they had been, thinking those men wouldn't expect them to attack and try to steal the boat. Now she had no idea where any of her friends were and no clue had long she'd even been locked in this room. Now she had no idea where any of her friends were and no clue had long she'd even been locked in this sterile white room. She'd expected Boss to pop up in her usual ghostly way, but so far she hadn't caught one glimpse of the other girl. She hoped they weren't hurting her in any way.

"Ana?" The walls were soundproof, but she leaned her head back and spoke the name aloud anyway. "Jamie?"

Stifling silence answered her. The absence of any sound at all was driving her crazy. She tapped her nails on the rock-hard cot and exhaled. "Ana was right. This was a bad idea."

Hours must have passed. It was impossible to tell in a room with no windows, just artificial light keeping her boldly illuminated. It was equally impossible to sleep under those lights, but with nothing else to do Hana attempted to lie down and rest. As she stared up at the blank white ceiling she realized there was a camera in the corner of the room. She pulled a face at it.

She wondered if they were going to kill her. The whole "arrest", or whatever it was, had been really weird. They'd been cuffed and led onto the boat, where a bunch of strange, out-of-place-looking people in pressed white uniforms all showed up to stare at them. At one point Boss had tried to slip out of the grip of the men escorting them, but several dozen weapons pointed at the other Junkers quickly killed any plans she may have had of escaping.

As she'd expected, sleep proved impossible. Insomnia seemed like it was becoming a close friend of Hana's. Every time she closed her eyes horrible images played out across the insides of her eyelids – the streets filled with rotting bodies, driving Hana out of her tiny town and out into the desert to get away from it all. The helplessness she'd felt when Ace shot Boss without a second thought. The faces of all the men they'd killed. The fact that her screwed-up brain could remember their faces but not the faces of her own parents. They were all dead, all gone, the men, her parents, everyone, and soon all her friends would probably be dead too. They'd all be dead, and it was all her fault. Ana would never see her daughter again. Hana would never get to tell any of them how much she cared about and appreciated them.

She laid on her back with her eyes squeezed tightly shut. The posture did little to stop the flow of tears that seeped out and leaked down the sides of her face. She laid a bony forearm over her eyes. I know I'm an adult, but I still feel like a kid. A big, stupid kid. How was she supposed to deal with all of this?

The door's electronic lock beeped. Hana sat up and quickly blinked the tears from her eyes. The door swung open, allowing a woman in a sterile white uniform to slip through. She quickly closed the door behind her and smiled cordially at Hana. Hana immediately scanned the woman. Something stuck out at her side beneath her white coat. Some kind of taser or gun, probably.

"Your young female friend is a fascinating specimen." The woman, whose skin was a pale brown, her black hair short and tipped with blue, sat down in a fold-out chair opposite Hana's bed. For the first time in over a month Hana became aware of how dirty and foul-smelling she was – this woman was spotlessly groomed in every way. Hana kept her arms at her sides, concealing her tangles of armpit hair and layers of dried-on sweat. "But you're quite the big shot yourself, aren't you, Hana Song?"

Hana's eyes widened. She fought the urge to respond, pulling her lips as tightly as she could over her crocodile teeth. She hated that her mouth could not completely close anymore. Her lower canines poked up from beneath her bottom lip, a look she hoped was threatening but knew was probably just silly-looking.

The woman steepled her fingers and smiled. "We scanned your thumb print. Although for you personally, we probably didn't have to – a few of my colleagues recognized you straight away. You were so cute in the pictures I saw." The woman pursed her lips as she looked Hana over. "Look at you now, all speckled with dirt and grime and full of nasty little teeth. You look like a little Gremlin."

"Don't call me that," Hana growled.

The woman shrugged. "Sorry. What I mean to say is–"

"Where are my friends?" Hana cut the woman off with another growl. "You better not be hurting them. You'll regret it if you do."

"Don't worry, they're fine." The woman waved a hand dismissively. "Allow me to explain what's going on here, Hana. My name is Swarnali. I represent a company that specializes in remodeling areas of the world that have fallen into disrepair. We're very interested in the Outback as the site of our next development."

"It's a nuclear wasteland."

"We can work with it." The woman, Swarnali apparently, maintained a calm, unfettered posture, as if the presence of an homicidal nuclear refugee a meter away from her did not faze her in the slightest. "In fact we're constantly developing new technologies for cleansing the tainted parts of the world – and your friend may help us unlock a hidden potential of nuclear energy we hadn't even considered. Who knew humans could survive such an ordeal, and come out stronger for it!"

"How do you know about Boss?" Hana asked. "There's no way she just told you guys all that."

"We've been working with her since we took your group in. At first she was…less than cooperative, but we quickly reached an understanding that working together would do the most to ensure the safety of those we care about."

"You used us to get information out of her." Hana's brain may have been slow-cooked in radiation for almost a month, but even she could read between the lines of that answer.

"Yes, we did. But we're all the better for it, because now we've got information and you've got opportunities."

"I don't want 'opportunities'. I want you to let me and my friends go so we can get back to living our lives."

"Well, see, the thing is…I can't do that." Her voice took on a hint of emotion, perhaps sympathy, that almost sounded genuine, but Hana couldn't be sure. "The Australian government doesn't want 'Junkers' running amok through the rest of the world and, I'm sorry to say, your kind will find no home in our future Utopia."

Hana drew back, uncertain she was actually hearing what she thought she was hearing. "You're gonna kick the Junkers off their own home turf?"

"Listen to me, Hana." Swarnali leaned forward, her fierce brown eyes searching Hana's filthy face. "You have a large and widespread fanbase that has not stopped posting online about you since your disappearance – seeking proof of your fate, concocting conspiracy theories, making tributes to you."

Hana had hardly thought of her fandom since everything happened. She wasn't the biggest internet star in the world, but she had a hell of a dedicated fanbase. The knowledge that they were mourning her struck a heavy chord in her chest. They had no idea what became of her.

"You are highly valuable," Swarnali continued. "Imagine how incredible it would be if the news came out that beloved teen superstar Hana 'DVa' Song was found and rescued from the ruined Outback by the benevolent Vishkar Corporation?"

"Why would you guys take credit for it? I'm the one who survived eating roadkill and pissing in buckets."

The woman made a slight face at her crassness. Good. "It would be a mutually beneficial arrangement. You become the dirty little girl we rescue from the wasteland who captures the heart of the entire world, then we clean you up and you become a shining example of the good Vishkar can do for the less fortunate of the world. We'll get rid of those unsightly fangs of yours and mold you some beautiful new teeth, we'll heal up all those flesh wounds on your hands–"

Hana glanced down at her gloveless hands. Some of the bone patches had healed skin over them, but most were still garishly visible. Even the healed areas were still marred with scarring.

"We'll treat your hair so it can grow back out to that beautiful length it was before. You'll be back to the old, adorable, highly marketable DVa you were. And you'll become a mascot of our company."

Hana stared at her for a few long seconds. The DVa Swarnali was describing didn't even feel like the same person she currently was. This "Vishkar Corporation" wanted to be represented by a ghost, by someone who no longer existed in any material form. Old DVa had been in small-time commercials and internet ads, she had been used as a marketing tool before. But that was her. And Hana did not consider them the same entity anymore.

After a lengthy pause, Hana asked, "What about my friends?"

"We'll give them a place to stay where they'll be accessible to you. We're very accommodating–"

"Show me they're all right first." Hana stared the woman down. "Show me right now."

Swarnali retrieved a tiny metal disc from her pocket and dropped it to the floor between them. It expanded to project images of four other rooms. Hana leaned in close. She could see the alleged likenesses of her friends, Junkrat pacing his tiny room, Roadhog sitting on the far-too-small bed, Ana curled up on her bed and facing away from what must have been a camera in her room as well. Boss' room looked different from the others – instead of white the walls were black and lined with glowing blue wires of some sort. Boss herself was sitting against the wall, staring up at the ceiling.

"How do I know this is live?" Hana asked. "Or even real at all?"

The woman reached over and tapped on the hologram depicting Junkrat's room. He ceased pacing and immediately fixated on the camera. Leaning back a little, Swarnali said, "Say hello to him. You'll see he's responding in real time."

Hana reached over and touched the projection. "Jamie? Can you hear me?"

Junkrat came up as close as he could to the camera.

"Um, if you can hear me, give a thumbs up."

Junkrat gave an uncertain thumbs up toward the camera.

"So you're okay? They didn't hurt you?"

He nodded. His mouth was moving, but Hana couldn't hear his response.

"Okay. Good. I was worried–"

Swarnali pushed a button on the device, ending the projections. She pocketed the device again.

Hana swallowed. "I'm not the same person I was back then. I don't think I can do it."

"Now that simply isn't true." Swarnali reached out and cupped Hana's face in her hands. "You've been through a lot, but we'll help you recover. You'll be back to your old self in no time – in fact you'll be happier than ever. What do you say?"

Hana lowered her eyes to the desk. She thought of her friends in their solitary cells all around her. She didn't know who these people were, but what if they hurt her friends because she wouldn't cooperate? What if they killed them?

"Fine," Hana finally responded. She did not raise her eyes to the woman. "I'll…try it."

"Excellent!" Swarnali beamed. "I'll be sure to spread word around the company. You won't regret this decision, Hana. We're going to make the Outback a beautiful, livable place again. A utopia."

Hana didn't respond again. She allowed Swarnali to lead her out of the cell, listening to her big empty promises of recovery and fame.

Lukewarm water trickled down her bare skin as she sat on the floor of the cold, sterile shower. Her flesh had become so sensitive from constant heat and dryness that even the gentle caress of shower water stung dully all over her body. She stared blankly at the white tiled wall in front of her.

She wasn't global superstar Hana Song anymore. How could they possibly expect her to be?

"Hana?"

The voice came from a speaker high on the wall. Hana glanced up at it with little genuine interest.

"Hana, are you doing all right? You've been in there a long time."

She didn't know who was talking to her. Everyone here seemed to know her name.

After a few minutes of no response on Hana's part, suddenly the fogged glass panel that served as a shower entrance slid open. Hana made no move to shift from her cross-legged position on the floor as a young woman in a white coat stepped in and pushed the button for the shower water to stop.

"You should have told us you needed assistance."

"I don't."

The woman slid the glass shut and reached for the bottles of shampoo and conditioner shelved on the far wall. She then knelt on the wet floor behind Hana. Hana heard some of the shampoo being squirted out into the woman's palm. A moment later a pair of unfamiliar hands were kneaded into Hana's hair, scrubbing through a month's worth of grease and dirt.

"This would be a lot easier if you did it yourself." The woman tugged roughly through a mat in Hana's hair. Hana hissed.

The woman was in there with her for what felt like forever, first combing through, shampooing and conditioning her hair, then scrubbing at her with a soapy washcloth, then taking a small pair of scissors and a razor to her arm and leg hair. As the clumps of hair fell into the floor drain Hana found herself wondering why she ever bothered with such pointless beauty routines. Why were these people so obsessed with it? What did it really matter?

An eternity later Hana was apparently washed to satisfaction. The woman brought her a bright white bathrobe that had "Vishkar Corp" monogrammed on it and some lounge clothes. Hana went limp like a ragdoll while the woman forcefully dressed her. She was then led back into her cell.

In the time she had been gone apparently someone had niced the place up a little bit, for she now had a fluffier pillow, a mirror and a holovid mounted high on the far wall. Atop the new pillow sat a remote control, presumably for the holovid. Who the hell feels like watching TV. She cast the remote aside as she flopped down on her bed and resumed her ceiling stare session from earlier.

It felt weird being clean. Her skin felt so exposed, and her arms and legs were cold without the downy hair that once covered them.

I wonder how the others are doing.

They never should have killed those men. This was probably some kind of karmic punishment from the universe for doing that. Now Hana was to be paraded around like a show animal by some company looking to improve their public image. Once again she was going to be all about appearance, all technical and survival skills she'd picked up thrown by the wayside. And who knew what was to become of her friends.

After an hour or so of staring at the ceiling and worrying about her friends and future Hana finally resigned herself to flipping through the holovid channels. They were largely unfamiliar to her – they were all Indian, and virtually all in Hindi. Were they in India or something? She thought she had heard someone mention teleportation when they were rounding the Junkers up at the Australian shoreline, but had assumed she was hearing them wrong or that it meant something else in context. But who knew what this weirdo corporation was capable of?

At one point she realized there was a button on the remote for alternate language subtitles. Most of the shows weren't translated, but the major news channels had English subtitles. One of them even had Korean subtitles, which surprised her. After a moment's deliberation she switched over to the Korean subs. It had been so long since she'd been able to read anything in her native language.

Not much seemed to have changed across the rest of the world. While the Outback was living out its own mini-apocalypse, the world at large was going through the same stuff as always – celebrity scandals, political junk, all the usual news. Hana could only watch it for a few minutes before she felt sick. So many people, pretty much everyone she knew and loved, died as a result of the omnium explosion. She had watched her parents die from radiation poisoning. And the rest of the world didn't seem to even notice what had happened there. It probably made the news for a few days at best, before people stopped caring or got bored with hearing about it.

As she flipped idly through the rest of the channels Hana eventually stumbled on one that was in English. It was apparently a looping ad for Vishkar Corporation.

Our mission here at Vishkar is to make the world a better place for everyone. A cheerful woman narrated over video clips of people in a run-down neighborhood, which then changed to clips of a futuristic-looking city made of what looked like some sort of illuminated glass. Using our patented Hard Light Technology, our Architechs design cities from the ground up. It cut to a shot of several men and women mapping out a three-dimensional translucent blueprint. We've served millions across the globe, ensuring families in need are able to live safe, harmonious lives. The scene changed to a family smiling and posing in front of a perfectly rectangular house that exactly resembled the houses beside and behind it. Vishkar. Building a better world!

Hana blew a raspberry at the screen.

After sitting through the Vishkar ad she lost any bit of desire to watch the holovid. Instead she decided to investigate the room for the umpteenth time, checking for any weak spots in the walls or door. She ran her hands over the surfaces of each. There's gotta be some way out of here. There has to be something I can chip away at or break through.

The walls felt false. Not usually a word she would use describe something like a wall, but that was all she could think as she inspected them. They felt like they had been created only very recently, and they were just too perfect. They felt like a 3-D print. Maybe those 'Architechs' made these cells, too. Regardless, they were clearly very sturdy, and she could not find a weak spot anywhere on them. In frustration she started pounding her fists on the flawless walls. "I want out of here!" she cried, despite knowing it was a pointless plea.

Almost as if in response to her outcry, Hana began to hear a weird, faint noise from somewhere in the room. It wasn't particularly assaulting on the ears, but for some reason it cut right through her thoughts. She winced and covered her ears. When she uncovered them a moment later the sound had, thankfully, stopped, but some other faint sound tickled her brain instead. It was much less jarring – in fact, it was almost pleasant. It seemed to be coming from the camera on the ceiling, or something near it, but Hana hadn't investigated a full minute before she was overcome with a sudden wave of exhaustion.

She hadn't slept much last night, but she had felt fine until that moment. Something was whispering to her brain. All of a sudden she barely had the energy to drag herself into bed. Upon hitting the pillow she knocked out into a deeper sleep than she'd experienced in weeks.