Sorry for the shitty writing quality of the last 2 chapters... they were mostly exposition and I wanted to get them out of the way fast. I might go back and make them better when I have time, but for now I'm gonna focus on the main story.
July 21th, 2078, Arkhangelsk, Russia, No Man's Land between British and Omnic lines, 04:36 MST [1] day before the confirmed MIA report for RCAF pilot : David "Jackal" Mcallister was filed.
When I took my first steps into no man's land, I knew it would be a veritable hell on earth, but I never imagined the meat-grinder it actually was. The Omnics had entrenched themselves in the muddy, shell-scarred land between our FOB and their own, By the time I was almost out of the hostile lines I had been lucky to not encounter any Omnics face to face, in fact, if not for the random bursts of Bastion miniguns, who picked off any soldier dumb enough to stick their head above the trench, I would have never known any Omnics were there.
I hoisted myself over the trench line, being careful to stay as low as possible, and crawled towards a chunk of cement that might have once been a home. I sat there for a minute, making mental notes of any bastion positions that I spotted, so as to take advantage of any blind spots. Eventually, I reasoned that the best (if you could even call it that) way was only in the sight line by 2 bastions. I would have to keep as low as possible to have any chance of surviving.
I began my journey crawling through the thick mud, dragging the 2 unconscious bodies behind me, towards the human trenchline. Between destroyed tanks and around barbed wire, I began to notice the dozens of mangled and burnt corpses that littered the foxholes and abandoned trenches, so many of them looked like they had just been trying to retreat, only to be cut down by pin-point accurate bullets, fired from those fucking Bastions. For the first time in years, I realized what was at stake, not just my life, but Lee's life and the girl's. For the first time in years, I was afraid.
My panicked thoughts were quickly interrupted as I received a sharp pain in my lower back, the force of the projectile propelled me forward onto the ground and knocked the wind out of my lungs. Not a second later, a huge firefight broke out between the 2 factions, causing thousands of bullets to fly mere inches above my head. The deafening sound lasted for no more than 10 seconds, at which point both sides ducked back into their trenches and reloaded, this gave me a chance to see how fast the wound was going to kill me.
Entry wound… no exit wound, thank God… probably a punctured liver. Got about 5 minutes before I pass out… kick it into overdrive cocksucker!
My heart pounded and my leg and stomach ached as I continued dragging Lee and the girl behind me, inching ever closer to the friendly lines. As much as I wanted to stop and dress my wounds, I knew that in a Lee had even less time than I, after all, he had probably lost at least a couple of cups of blood, the only reason he hadn't died yet was because the intense heat from the plasma grenade had partially cauterized his wounds.
Come on, you sonuva bitch, only a couple hundred feet…
My vision tunnelled and blurred as I got closer to my objective, but I forced myself to continue crawling.
"Thunder!" I yelled as I neared the human trenches, signifying that I was a friendly.
"Flash!" Came several British voices.
I hauled the unconscious bodies into the the dug-out position, being assisted by two of the Brits. Just as we got entrenched, a second round of shots peppered the trenches, killing several riflemen.
"We need to get you the hell out of here," said one of the medics, "your friend is in critical condition and Tracer has a nasty concussion. Not to mention your injuries,which will also require medical attention"
Tracer? That name seemed familiar…
"We're calling in a medivac VTOL for you, it'll have to land about a kilometre behind the lines… I'll help you carry them."
I scooped up "Tracer" in my arms and the medic got Lee and we began to walk through the trenches. I kind of blacked out as we made our way to the back lines; it was like I was in a dream and all the chaos around my was just my imagination. But in my mind I knew what had happened. For the first time in hours my mind actually had the time to process what had just happened… Danny is dead… Lee is dying… we're losing this fight.
The world...is fucked
I was snapped out of my barely-conscious state by the sound of helicopter blades as the VTOL came in for a landing, it's back ramp lowering. 3 medics hurried out to help with the unconscious bodies. I walked clumsily into the VTOL as it's lifted off the ground. I collapsed into a seat, which caused pain to shoot through my torso, like it was on fire, reminding my of the 5.56 bullet in me.
I decided against telling the medics about my wounds, I had some medical experience after all. I reached into my medical kit and injected myself with a morphine needle, sighing at the instant numbness it provided.
Drawing my K-BAR from it's sheath, I winced as I began to dig out any shrapnel I could find in my wound. It wasn't long before I had gotten most of the bullet shards out of the wound. Satisfied, I sewed it shut and sprayed it with alcohol. Throughout the journey to the medical base, far behind friendly lines, I tended to my various wounds and was eventually left with only a puddle of blood at my feet and several brand-new scars.
I eventually got the sense that we weren't going to the medical tent and asked one of the medics.
"Well, I'm not technically supposed to say, but seeing as how you saved her," he gestured to the girl, "I guess you deserve to know."
I nodded, encouraging him to continue.
He explained to me that Overwatch, which I vaguely recalled as a kind of private army of superheroes and scientists, had been re-formed after being falsely accused of terrorism years before. Apparently, as soon as the world leaders realized they were losing some serious ground in Russia, they called on the people they had wrongly accused to help them. And they did.
As the medic continued the story, I realized where I had heard the name "Tracer" before; it had been on a mural I had seen at Kings Row when I had gone on a trip to Britain.
Finishing the conversation, I glanced over at Tracer, getting my first good look at her. Even in her current state, I had to admit, she was pretty adorable; her small figure was almost completely still, save for a couple of small movements from her hands, like she was weakly trying to grab some non-existent object. Her face had a look of unconscious bliss on it, she didn't look like she had just suffered massive head trauma, she looked peaceful, like she was sleeping.
The doctors had tended to her and Lee quickly, providing Tracer with an ice pack which they placed on her forehead. They had also quickly disinfected Lee's many gashes and were even beginning to fit him for prosthetics.
I looked at my friend in dismay and imagined how he would react when he woke up to find his left side integrated with a mass of carbon fibre and electronics. I wondered if he had even been truly conscious at any point after the grenades detonated, if he knew what he had lost.
I sighed sadly and leaned back in my seat, forcing myself to fall asleep to pass the time. Hopefully I wouldn't wake up until we reached our destination.
I was shaken awake by one of the doctors, who told me I needed to get off so they could return to the front lines. I followed the 4 other doctors who were carrying Lee and Tracer on stretchers into a large, bunker-like building that had what I now recognized as the Overwatch logo painted above the steel reinforced double-doors.
The moment we entered the building, half a dozen surgeons flocked around Lee, checking his pulse and injecting him with an IV needle. Among them was a blond caucasian woman, who seemed to be the leader, commanding the others and leading the pack towards the operating room.
"Hang on there, buddy," said a middle-aged security guard, blocking my entry with a stun baton, "authorized personnel only, I'm afraid"
"That man is my squad mate, and he is under my command," I replied, fuming, "I refuse to let him out of my sight!"
"Sorry, I can't let you in, period, besides," he said, gesturing at my wounds, "you might want to get some medical attention yourself."
"Fuck off," I muttered, defeated, pushing past him. If I wasn't allowed to see Lee, I reasoned, I might as well check up on Tracer.
Heya people, thanks for reading this new chapter, and sorry it took so long, as most of you are also experiencing, school is starting and (for me), soccer and rugby are are also starting, so I haven't really gotten a chance to write in the last couple of weeks.
Unfortunately, until winter break, the upload schedule will probably continue to be inconsistent and far-between.
Anywho, thanks for reading and get excited for next chapter, cause that's when Tracer and David have their first formal interaction! (Jeez I've only used his real name like, twice).
Thanks, Leaf