A light touch startles Hana out of her half-asleep stupor into full alert. The first thing that her eyes meet are Amari's dark own, staring at her with the same cold intensity that reminds the girl of her captain... She already likes the woman better, though, she doesn't get all pissy when asked for her phone. Granted, her playlist sucks, and most of it is in a language she can't understand a word of, but it's not like the girl wanted it for the lyrics, or even the beat. Anything is better than the silence that descended upon the ship once its pilot went for a nap, having given the controls over to-
The girl's body seizes up, with the exception of her right hand snatching for her gun- her gun that's not there.
For a split second, a cold fist clenches around the pilot's heart, and it's only by luck that she remembers what happened to her weapon before lashing out against the woman in front of her. Hana gave the pistol away, maybe not willingly, but not under duress, either. Safety protocol, Tracer called it.
She doesn't manage to relax again, not under the close scrutiny of Amari's gaze – her little lapse can't have gone unnoticed.
"Yes?" Hana speaks up after taking the earphones out, looking warily around the ship.
"We'll be landing in a moment." Ah, must be why the woman discarded her armour. The MEKA pilot nods thanks to her companion before stretching and properly securing herself in the seat. The older soldier takes a seat by her side a few seconds after, not saying another word. She's been silent most of the way, actually, with her eyes always locked on Hana when she bothered to look. Always with the same unreadable expression.
The landing is probably the smoothest she's ever experienced – she'd have slept right through it. Good thing, too – her stomach is getting uppity about something. The girl wonders if it's the ship or the pilot that the credit should go to. Maybe both. Overwatch only settled for the best.
"Welcome to Watchpoint Gibraltar, agents." Hana's expression darkens the moment the feminine voice sounds from the speakers. Right. That. "Winston is on his way. Miss Song, should I call the doctor here?" Patronising pile of rusty shit.
"I'll walk." She won't have her first impression be that of a cripple. It's just a leg, she has another to jump on if need be. The pilot's well aware of her scrawny posture, and she'll be damned if the first someone sees her is not on her own two feet. She's already had to change out of the suit and into her much less impressive fitness uniform, so that they could dress her wound, and since her spare just wouldn't slide on over the bandage. No hard feelings for the guy who shot her - but screw him, seriously.
She doesn't need extras, anyway! She's bad-ass enough to impress on her own!
The pilot manages to stand up, although with some difficulty. Urgh. It feels, accurately enough, like something's pushing from the inside of her leg. Now, not to put too much pressure on her damaged limb-
Hana only realises she's being held after her mind catches up with the fact she hasn't hit the deck.
"You okay, love?"
She blinks away the dark.
"I think my leg fell asleep," the Korean coughs out. It's not that it hurts that badly - more of a pain in the ass, really. Certainly not bad enough for her to just fall over. She just... she needs a moment. "I'll be fine." She lets herself be pulled up straight, and nods her thanks to Tracer.
"If you're sure." The woman takes a minute step back, only leaving Hana to stand on her own after the girl manages a few steps on her own.
The young pilot pauses on her way to the hatch, in equal part to catch a breath as she does to ask:
"Should I take my stuff with me, or..." Hana trails off.
"Nah, leave it with the mech. It's gotta stay with the disruptor. Security and such. Standard procedure." They've got standard procedure for taking in deserters? That's... okay. Whatever. She doesn't need her things just yet, and it's not like she has anything incriminating, or even embarrassing in her bag. She suppresses a smile at the memory of one of the younger recruits and her teddy bear. Seriously. They'll start bringing in toddlers next... they probably would, if they could get away with it. Were the Monster resurfacing with any greater frequency, they probably could, too.
Careful not to put her weight on the injured leg, the girl shuffles over to Amari by the exit, enviously eyeing the rocket launcher in the woman's grip.
"Nervous?" probes Tracer a moment before the ramp opens.
Why? "Excited." She flashes the veteran a winning smile. "It's Overwatch."
"I know, right?" The woman beams. "I remember when I got in. As a pilot, at first, and next thing I knew, I was being assigned to the strike team with the biggest n' baddest on Earth. Felt bonkers for accepting. Still did it." Why? Wasn't that a promotion?
"How do you mean?" She asks as they descend the ramp, and onto the sun-baked landing, pressing their pace as much as she's able in her eagerness to get away from the abundance of open space.
"I was just a pilot. I mean, I knew how to shoot, but just wasn't up to par, really. Got in cause of this, mostly. I had unique qualifications, was what Commander said." The woman taps the glowing contraption on her chest before continuing. "Saved my life so many times I stopped counting."
"Oh." That's... P2W's a way to progress too, Hana supposes. "Anything I should know about it?" The zipping around part is obvious enough, but that's all she really knows.
It takes Tracer a few seconds before she replies, the time she spent having a silent conversation with Amari over Hana's head.
"In short? It can speed up or reverse my time." Wait.
"Reverse?" Cheats.
"Only for myself. Got half my face blown off, once. Backed up a few seconds and was back at it again." Tracer announces, her smile somehow both proud and embarrassed. Hana thinks she understands – in the finally beat a boss way. "Learned a lot since then. Don't really fancy getting blown apart on regular basis." Yeah... what a terrible fate, having a save point IRL.
The younger girl returns the smile without speaking, not trusting herself not to sound scathing.
"Speaking of gear-" the British woman continues as they enter the safety of rock carved walls. "I checked over your machine while you were asleep." Does she go through people's laundry, too? "Say, do the snack slots come in with the original or did you mod it in?"
A snort escapes Hana's mouth, her mood making a U turn in spite of both her leg and the steadily rising churn in her stomach. "Industrial-made. I heard they added those in after some older pilots started doing it themselves." She doesn't know which year is responsible for that, but they're all heroes in her books. Actual heroes too, probably, with medals for services rendered and honour guard at their burials. There is one ex-pilot that might know, she'll send him a donation with an ask on his stream, some day.
"Cool. We could bring some stuff to our planes, but never add anything. You know, I wonder if I could pilot that machine of yours." No. No, she couldn't, Hana not letting her being the least important factor here. There's a reason there aren't any active older pilots, or gamers, for that matter.
"Maybe if you beat me at osu." Good luck with that. She might not be at the very top of the chart any more, but 0.3% behind it isn't all that bad.
"Um..."
"I'll show you later. It's fun." She will. Nothing like playing to the beat of her favourite songs. Restoring her playlists might take some time, though, given the thousands of positions on them. "Uh, when you're free, I mean."
"It's a game, right?" Hana nods to the Brit's inquiry. "Sure thing, then. I bet Rein's gonna want in on it too."
"Rein?"
"She means Reinhardt." Answers Amari in her comrade's stead.
Hana works her mouth for a moment, before promptly clicking her teeth to trap the squeeing building up inside her. It must show, going by the Egyptian's amused smirk. But who cares! She's going to meet Reinhardt! Work beside him! How many people can claim to know a living legend? If Tracer can be called famous, then Reinhardt is of the larger-than-life calibre! The man was thrown into hell time and time again, only to emerge victorious every single time. The knight hit sixty some time ago, and the last she checked – he's still crusading all around the world! Hana's own skills are epic, but she's under no illusion she could survive that long.
Granted, the man never squared off against the Monster, but he fought other omnics all across the world since the very beginning of the war. He earned more pre-mortem medals than the entire MEKA programme! It didn't even occur to her that he could be joining them, not with him having already left the organisation once.
And now she hears he's into games, too? This is gonna be so awesome!
It's only her dragging leg that contains her bounce to an unnoticeable level. Outwardly, she says:
"Any other big-shots joining up?" It'll do to have an advance warning. If she just saw Reinhardt in the base one day... well.
"Who knows?" Tracer speaks up. "We sent word to the old guard and a few new candidates. Only some responded, so yeah it's mostly us, vets. Mercy and Winston are already here." Mercy Hana knows of – her image goes well with her name, easy to remember. Winston though... "I know Genji is coming back, too."
Well that tells her nothing - who's Genji? But more importantly, the person who contacted her was named Winston. Tracer says they're an old member, so why can't she place their face?
"Speaking of." Amari nods in the direction of the – whoa. Hana stops dead in her tracks.
That's... a giant monkey. A gorilla. A suit-wearing gorilla. With glasses.
An old, dim light comes online at the back of the girl's head. Because yeah, there was a gorilla on Overwatch's strike team. The Moon one, they're supposed to possess intelligence on par with humans, or something close. It's a wonder nobody has yet took it upon themselves to clean them off from the moon. Humanity's already suffering consequences of tin-men getting uppity, they don't need another remake of Planet of the Apes, this time set in reality.
It'd be enough to slip in a drone and poison the water reserves – it'd be a bitch to clean it again, but still way less expensive than sending an expedition. Sure, it's an omnic tactic, but it's not like they'd be killing innocents, or even people, for that matter. All of those died when the animals broke out. What a beautiful exception from the rule – here it is, the only space gorilla in existence who refused to murder people – and so ran away instead of dying in a hopeless battle, then ended up joining Overwatch.
...Huh.
The pilot's train of thought is broken when she's momentarily blinded by Tracer's light, with the woman herself already hanging off the approaching ape's massive arm. Friends then - of course. Even the worst asses in her team held no grudges after their first deployment. It took Hana just a few months before she could honestly call all her remaining teammates friends, and those two fought together for how long?
The girl slows down a bit, letting the dark-skinned woman by her side reach the gorilla first, and easing some of the tension in her limping leg.
"Winston." Amari's voice is warm, if still a bit terse.
"Hello Fareeha." The gorilla responds in what sounds like an embarrassed tone. Is it the same for monkeys and humans? The expressions it makes look exceptionally familiar, almost human, but not quite right. It sounds male, is it male? Winston's a male name, right?
...
Wait. Wait, Winston!? The Winston that wrote her?
Hana narrows her eyes, trying to reconcile the giant before her with the image of the person she had in her mind – that of a curt, professional officer. Oh man, having a monkey officer. If her team had survived they'd have choked laughing.
She straightens out as Winston's gaze falls upon her, and snaps an approximation of her usual salute, not quite able to get it right without putting equal weight on both her legs.
"Um." The giant freezes in front of her with an extended hand, retracting it a second afterwards and returning her gesture. "It's good to see you in person, Miss Song." Damn but is it weird to hear it speak.
"Likewise, sir."
"Please," it makes to scratch his head, but abandons the notion halfway through. "Just Winston will do." Well, her patron – she still can't get over the fact that she got invited to Overwatch by a gorilla – certainly seems less composed in person than over a written conversation. Unless reading an ape is completely different from reading a person, Hana can easily imagine the giant agonising over every sentence of the letters it wrote, and for much different reasons than Hana herself, who simply never learned to write formal correspondence in English.
"Winston, then!" She foregoes her increasingly painful pose and with a radiant smile, extends her hand to the ape, like it originally wanted. It seems like a good move, too, what with the gorilla relaxing a bit and returning... probably a smile, she hopes it is. Though she finds the idea of having her hand bitten off for misreading a monkey's expression somewhat humorous.
The enormous palm's grip is surprisingly gentle, still, Hana has no trouble imagining it easily closing around her arm or head, and effortlessly ripping it off. It must weigh at least as much as she does.
"I'm glad you've accepted our offer." Well, it's nice to hear that someone appreciates the fact she signed a death warrant on herself the moment she stepped onto their ship. Desertion is one thing, delivering cutting-edge tech into foreign hands is something else entirely.
"Glad to be here." Maybe she can do something more meaningful with the reminder of her life than to give it away for a medal.
"Well then," the ape continues. "We had originally planned to give you a tour of the base. But given your current... condition, I think it's best we skip right to the infirmary."
Mercy, Hana notes, cuts far less a dashing figure without her suit. The girl isn't sure why it came to her as such a surprise. It's not like she wears her own gear all the time, either. She probably wouldn't have recognized the woman out on the streets like that, even with all the posters she'd seen of her. Given, Westerners all look alike to her, so maybe she's not the best person to pass judgement here.
The girl quietly hisses as the blonde removes the last of the blood-red foam from the hole in her leg, tearing away the forming scabs along with it. The sensation is enough to make her stomach cramps feel pleasant in comparison. She takes a deep breath when Mercy puts her tools away, and forcefully uncurls her fingers from around the bed's edge to wipe the sweat off her brow.
At least the bleeding has slowed down to a trickle. Hana was beginning to feel somewhat faint by the time Captain Amari was done dressing her injury, back on the ship, though that was likely due to having the woman shove the XStat halfway into Hana's leg.
"Now, hold still," The older woman says. "It will burn a bit."
Hana bites back her What does she look like, ten? She knows how peroxide works. She doesn't have to be tooooo-holy fuck!
That's- that can't be peroxide. Pure spirit - must be. She knows the damn difference!
Mercy looks up at her, as if asking for permission to perform the torture to the other side of the wound. How very polite, as if she'd stop if Hana said no. It's all she can do to nod and clench her eyes shut, determined for the tears welling in them not to fall as the doctor continues her work.
F-fuck. Is- is she trying to disinfect the wound, or burn it out with liquid fire?
The pilot wrenches her wet eyelids open to see Mercy's stare boring into her, a frown creasing the blonde's brows.
"You disinfected the wound, right?" No, she's a stupid kid who wouldn't know any better!
"Yes ma'am. We did everything by the book, me and captain Amari." For some reason, the woman's frown deepens even further.
"It seems like I'll have to check the medkits on the ship, then." What? "I'm sorry, I should've done that before, but things have been... hectic." What does that-
"It's fine." Whatever it is that's wrong. Can they just move on?
"If it makes you feel any better, you're far more composed than many of the old agents used to be. Soldiers, I swear. Can walk with a bullet in their knee, but handling needles is just too much to ask."
It's an effort, but the girl doesn't smile. No matter what the onlookers would say.
"Anyone I know?"
"I couldn't say." Mercy replies with a wicked smirk of her own. "Doctor confidentiality." Heh. Right. How many embarrassing stories must the woman have, Hana wonders. She also wonders if this confidentiality thing also extends to her old comrades. Best she stays cordial. It's always good to be on doctors' good side, regardless.
They both keep silent as Mercy deftly works on closing the pilot's wound, not looking away for a moment, then finally injecting her with a painkiller once she finishes drying the jagged flesh. Compared to all the tender care the blonde has administered, the needle barely evokes a twitch from the girl as it slides into her skin. Just for stitches, then, that's a relief. It means they're almost done, and indeed, all the medic does before reaching for the thread is applying some sort of balm directly onto her injury.
It's always an interesting disconnect to see the needle and thread going through her skin, while feeling none of it happen. She wonders what it's like, stitching skin together – using all those – she doesn't even know the names of the tools - on actual living people. Why, had she not already discovered the love of her life, she might've been tempted to try and get into college to pursue a degree in medicine. A pity about the high school requirement. Useless thing. Fat load of help it was to the others, in the end.
"Done." Mercy announces standing up and removing her latex gloves after tying the last loop, just as feeling begins returning into Hana's numbed skin. The woman is... precise. Either that or they're having a shortage of painkillers. "I'll have to manually take them out, I'm afraid. I'm not sure if the wound will close completely by tomorrow, so it's better to stay on the safe side. Do you have any questions?" By tomorrow? What was in that balm? Magic? The shortest it took back home was four days for something like this... unless the guys were simulating to get an extra day or two off. Totally possible with the lazy asses - pure skill and no dedication.
"Will it scar?" She eventually asks after rolling her pantleg down. Shaving her legs is already a challenge with her current collection.
"It shouldn't. As long as you refrain from any strenuous activity until tomorrow, that is. It'd be best if you spend the rest of the day relaxing. So no tour – the base is built vertically, too many stairs."
A scowl twists the girl's features. She needs to know the layout of the place.
"But I feel fine?" Mostly. The inside of her leg still aches some, but it's nothing compared to what it felt like before.
"For now, yes. However, the replacement tissue-" That's what the gel is? Cool. "-will start taking soon. Some movement is not out of question, but it'd be detrimental for your recovery. I don't suppose you want to prolong it by another day or two?" Her gaze becomes distant for just a moment, and a small, fond smile blossoms on her lips. "Someone who ignored my advice once described it to me as feeling like having thorns under your skin, for hours on end." How do thorns feel like? The most time she spent around vegetation would be during combat scenarios, and that was always inside her MEKA. A concrete jungle suits her just fine, thank you.
"Sooo, it'll hurt."
"So it'll hurt, a lot. Worse yet, it'd delay the healing process." Ugh, fine, whatever. One day isn't that long, she'll just have to get a map, a 3D one if possible. What is it with good medicine being bitter? The next thing she knows she'll need crutches to-
"-I won't need crutches, will I?" Hana isn't sure what the blonde finds so humorous about her question as to snort. Some doctor thing?
"Nothing like that." She answers, stretching her shoulders and backing away towards her desk. "Just taking it easy for the day will be enough. Honestly, given the night you'd had, I'd recommend it either way. Treat it as R&R" Somehow, Hana suspects that she and the doctor have very different ideas of what R&R should look like. Coming back alive is reason for a party! A LAN party! She'll have to ask who around here plays games, later. She has yet to see a military base without a gaming console, and she's not talking about the pilots' own.
"Can I shower with it?"
"Preferably not now. Wait until the tissue becomes pink, which should take between eight and ten hours. Unless you absolutely have to?" Unless what - she pissed herself?
"Just wondering." She shrugs. It's a nice commodity, showers, but hardly a necessity. She went for far, far longer than a day without bathing – there were better things to spend money on. "Uh, what now?"
"Now, I'm going to ask you to fill this form." The woman states as she picks a tablet off her desk and hands it over to Hana. "We'll do actual, in-depth tests tomorrow, but I need what's in this as soon as possible. Normally, I'd just request the data by official channels but- well." Well is right.
"No problem," she replies before starting on the file Mercy opened, as the woman seats herself by her desk.
The document seems standard enough. Name. Blood type. Date of birth – heh, suuure. Illness history - like she's gonna remember that one, she never caught anything infectious, at least. Vaccination... standard? She never skipped those, not intentionally, anyway. Height... shit, she should probably add herself the last centimetre or two... people aren't supposed to grow at nineteen years of age. Surgeries; replacement lenses and uh- what's the word... elbow reconstruction. Do implants count? No wait, there's a separate bracket for that.
Tpft- pregnancies? lol. It's- well, okay, maybe it's not entirely out there. After all, Mina got out of the service that way. Way easier than desertion – if a girl's actually trying to get out of combat. She only has to figure out how to get rid of her hormonal implant and there, good to go, good luck have fun.
Nope. No allergies that she's aware of...
Yeah no, she's got nothing on her family medical history. Although she finds the prospect of writing chronically dead in the bracket amusing. It's a semi-official document though, she shouldn't mess around with these. In any case, she's healthy right now – the doctor said on the last check-up. Hey that's right, the army must have her parents' records and never said anything, so she can probably cross genetic diseases out.
Now, what's this?
"Uh, question." She calls out to Mercy, finding the woman already looking at her. "What does next of kin mean?"
"It – it means either a family member, or someone who would act as such." Well, that's another cross-out then.
"Thanks – no, wait. Dependencies? Like, addictions?"
"Yes." The woman taps her fingers against the desk, contemplating, before continuing. "Do you need help with translation?"
Does she? Hana quickly skims through the remaining questions.
"No, thanks, I'm good." Hmm. Naaah, gaming's not an addiction. And even if it were, she has to keep her APM sharp if she wants to remain useful. Besides, she hasn't pulled a full twenty hour day since she got drafted. She can't lie, the thought of doing a full multi match of EUX does sound amazing, though. A shame she can't use her account, she spent so much money on all the DLCs and it's all fated to rot away alongside all her other games. All her premiums, the pre-orders...
…
What was the pay Winston wrote about? She kind of skipped over that part and then had to delete the message. More than her army salary, that much she remembers. Give it a few months and she should be back on her legs, again. Essentials first, single-players later.
"K. Done." The girl cheerfully announces before carefully (just in case) pushing herself off the bed, only returning the tablet to the doctor after confirming her leg won't buckle underneath her.
The woman thanks her with a gentle smile, before examining the questionnaire, with Hana hanging by the desk, experimentally putting more pressure on her stitched shin. It feels... good. Itches a little, but it has a long way to go before becoming actually painful - maybe when the painkillers wear off completely.
"Artificial lenses?" Huh? Oh. "What happened?"
"Short-sightedness. I used to just wear glasses, but they were like, five and six?" She answers, pointing to the respective eyes. "Army needs pilots, and pilots gotta have good sight." Providing which is cheaper than training a fresh player. It's cheaper still than building new MEKAs in the place of those wrecked by underperforming pilots.
"Ah. Alright, this should be everything for now, then." The blonde announces, putting down the tablet. "I already sent word to Winston while you were busy that his tour will have to wait. He and Lena are having lunch in the mess. Which reminds me, you should eat something." She probably should...
"Thanks, but I'll pass. My stomach kind of hurts." Hana realises her mistake the second she finishes speaking, with the frown returning onto Mercy's face.
"Why didn't you say anything? How bad is it?"
"No it's not- I mean, it's nothing bad. Guess the yesterday's dinner was pushing expiration date." Again. Major said they checked and double-checked, but it just keeps happening. It wasn't only her issue, either.
The woman sighs. "Miss Song, I still need to know these things. I could've unknowingly given you something which could cause more harm than good. So in the future, if anything at all is wrong, tell me. That's why I'm here, do you understand?"
"Yes ma'am!" Sheesh, it's just a little stomach ache. People stopped dying from things like that decades ago.
"Good. You said it's mild, you don't need painkillers?" The pilot shakes her head. She has her own pills in her small baggage - she doesn't need her new doctor giving her crap for using up too many, like her old one used to. Makes it easier for everyone. "Now, I still expect you to eat, only something light. How does a yoghurt sound?"
"Good. Sounds good." Unless it's that all-natural, tasteless crap. She'll take strawberry, thanks. "Um... where's the mess?"
The woman appears confused for a split second, before a sheepish smile blooms on her lips.
"I'm sorry, I appear to need a coffee to wake me up." Hmpf! Coffee. Please. Why do people keep drinking that bitter filth with energy drinks around, Hana will never understand. "Come," the blonde says as she rises from her chair. "I'll show you myself."