Chapter 3: Slipstream
A/N: Hey guys, Raven6229 here! I'm so sorry this chapter took so long! I had serious writer's block, but here is the next chapter at last!
Before we begin, I need to mention something. I am NOT going to quit this story, so long as I live. I will continue to update this story until it is finished, no matter how long the gaps in between the updates are. I am not going to quit, so do not worry about that. I promise, so long as I have the ability to inhale, I will intend to continue. So, with that out of the way, enjoy!
...
"Pharah, Mercy, are you two at the objective?" Winston asked through the com device attached to Angela's ear. The London sky was dark and overcast, the gleaming towers shining like a beacon. Mercy's wings on her suit glowed brightly, deactivating as the two softly landed on the roof of the massive building. They dimmed as they switched to their passive mode, ready to reactivate at a moment's notice.
"Affirmative, we're prepared to infiltrate the lockup," Pharah confirmed next to her; the Tesla gun and her rocket cannon strapped to her back while she pulled a device out of a small bag, planting it on the rooftop door. It continued to drizzle as the stone roof grew damp.
Numbers flashed on the device as it unlocked the door, which opened with a quiet beep. There was a stairwell, and with a nod, the two quietly strode through the dark hallway, with Mercy's wings supplying more light than the light on the ceiling. They reached the bottom of the stairwell, which had another door similar to the other one. Pharah quickly unlocked that one. The door opened into an equally deserted hallway. Their footsteps echoed ominously as they checked each of the doors, which had numbers marking each of them. The hall was barren and cold. Angela would have avoided it at all costs if she could have.
"Take the door numbered 6504," Winston ordered through the earpiece as Pharah checked the door with the appropriate number. There was nobody present, which was unexpected but made their mission easier.
The first guard they encountered was lazily standing by the doorway they were walking through, appearing to be only half-conscious, lulled into a daze by the mundane nature of his job. He jolted to attention as the two of them strode through the door. Mercy quickly injected him with a tranquilizer, knocking him out in seconds, before he could properly react.
The room Winston led them to was full of cabinets with folders filling each of them. "Cameras are on a loop," Winston informed, voice hushed despite being safe in Gibraltar while Pharah started roughly in the middle of the long wall of cabinets, searching for a file about Lena Oxton being detained here. Mercy quickly opened the cabinet at the very end, which had information about illegal items that had been stored in the facility.
Pharah flipped through the folders deftly, which were recorded on a last name basis. She grunted when she passed from "O" to "P" with no sign of "Oxton."
"There is no sign of Lena Oxton in the folders," she admitted, turning to Angela. "Is there anything on her chronal harness?"
"Winston, what was the date Tracer turned on her harness?" Angela radioed, flipping the item folders to be close to the current date. "These are filed by date acquired rather than name, due to some of the item names being unknown.
"Three days ago," he replied, the clicking of keys being heard over the com as he continued checking the facility they were in for people coming to the room they were occupying.
Angela let out a small gasp as she yanked a slip of paper out of the filing cabinet as she began to read it aloud.
"'Overwatch agent Tracer's teleportation harness was taken from her person when detained atop an apartment building in King's Row. The subject seemed to have another teleportation device with her, as she vanished after the removal of the harness.' Oh dear, it seems she is not here."
Winston made his worry clear over the com. "I-I see. We'll find her soon. First, though, we need to find her chronal accelerator. Where is it, Mercy?"
"It appears to be in the standard lockup."
"That makes this easier. Take that folder, and go right."
Mercy hummed quietly as she ran, deep in thought. "Winston, was news of Tracer's crash ever made public?"
"We spoke of the accident, but not the nature of the plane, nor the time in between us finding her and getting her back in action. Not very many people know about her condition. Mostly just Overwatch agents she works with and the scientists that tried to remedy it." Winston admitted, unsure of where the conversation was going.
"Then what of the 'time-wielding' tagline of which the public seems so fond?" Pharah asked as she used a tranquilizer to knock out another guard.
"I believe it's just something the public made up, unaware of its accuracy. To the people, it's likely just teleportation. And because they don't know about her condition, they probably removed her harness thinking it was just a teleportation device." They both heard Winston mumble something incomprehensible on his end of the mic, but they didn't press him, as they were entering a large room with a vaulted door, only able to be opened with a correct code, a retinal scanner, and a fingerprint detector. Two guards were standing by the door, whom the twosome quickly incapacitated as they entered the room.
"Winston, the vault door is inaccessible via any subtle means," Pharah assessed, carefully analyzing the huge door that looked as solid as titanium. "What should we do about it?"
A unique, female voice bounced off the walls of the room and echoed through the earpieces. "I could help with that, amigas."
"Who are you?" Pharah demanded, pulling her visor down and grabbing the Tesla Cannon off her back. Mercy grabbed her staff as the nanotechnology latched itself onto the Tesla Cannon, feeding it power.
"Well, I could help with the door, the security is rather pathetic, but I'll do that on my own time. For now, why don't you have some fun with me?" the invisible girl continued in her light accent. "Unless of course, you want the cameras to pick you up. With the push of a button, the loop will stop, and alarms will blare. What would that do, one of the famous members of Overwatch, and the daughter of Captain Amari caught breaking into a secure facility? Think of the setbacks to your little Overwatch revolution you're trying to pull."
Winston had gone silent, listening carefully to the conversation. The girl was a prodigious hacker if she was able to breach the secure network to which their com devices were connected.
"Show yourself!" Pharah demanded through gritted teeth, standing back-to-back with Mercy, who warily kept her staff trained on her partner.
"Hmm, I could do that, but then you'd attack me, and the alarms would go off, then nobody would win," she mused in a singsong voice.
"Are you with Talon?" Mercy asked somberly, her eyes narrowing.
"We have mutual goals. I figured teaming with them would be beneficial. Of course, that means I'm not alone, though those two are real sticks-in-the-mud. They'd be shooting you up if they were the ones in here, but this is much more entertaining.
"And what, exactly, is your goal?" Pharah slowly began to move her hand to her head, flipping up her visor.
"To make a new friend. You see, you're more valuable than you think, Fareeha." The invisible girl spoke mockingly, yet with a strange blend of seriousness to them.
"How so?"
"I can't ruin all the fun for you. Let's just give the good, cliche answer of 'You're coming with me,' then we'll get right out of here."
The air suddenly twisted and distorted as a figure appeared in the darkness. It was a Mexican girl, roughly in her twenties. Her hair had purple highlights, and mechanical attachments ran down the back of her head. Her outfit was a black and purple robe, with bright purple nails and a tall collar reaching from the robe to her chin.
"You can call me Sombra, by the way. Nice to meet you. Oh, and Winston?" Winston flinched as she abruptly called his name. "Smart thing, to knock the camera out entirely."
Pharah took this as an opportunity to release the trigger as the Tesla Gun sparked as it roared to life.
"Tsk tsk tsk. And here I thought we could do this civilly," Sombra sprang to life, swiping her nails across the cannon, causing it to glow an unnatural purple. The light died as the gun completely shut off. Pharah glared, releasing the strap on the rocket gun, causing it to clatter to the ground as well, much to Mercy's surprise. Pharah looked at her. It was not resignation on her face. Her expression said, "Get out of here."
"Good girl," Sombra chided. Now, if you know any better, you won't move a muscle.
Mercy released the trigger on her staff, causing the blue glow to die as the nanotechnology retreated to it. Her face was calm as Sombra casually walked up to the vault, pulling up some custom HoloVid, briefly punching in a few numbers.
Soon, the vault door's locks disengaged, as Sombra strode in and rummaged through several boxes of items until she found what she wanted. "Ah hah! Here it is!" She swiped across the metal box with her odd electronics, opening it. "I hope you didn't need this," she declared in a singsong voice, holding up the chronal accelerator.
Mercy's eyes widened. So that was her goal...
The harness itself was in rough condition. The metal was scuffed and dented, and the blue light that once inhabited the center had died out completely. One of the straps was broken, and the inside of the harness' circle where the glow usually was instead looked an unnatural shade of black.
"Now, pardon me, Doctor, but I must be going with your patient. Oh, and the alarms will go off after roughly twenty seconds of my departure, so be careful," Sombra didn't seem the least bit troubled as she walked over to Pharah, who whipped her hand up to her ear, tearing off the com device, crushing it in her hand. She must not have wanted Sombra tracing it if she hasn't already.
"I'll see you soon," Mercy whispered to Pharah, who barely nodded.
Sombra cheerily grabbed Pharah by the back of her neck, who stiffened but did not protest, knowing this girl, especially if they had backup, would easily be able to get them caught. It was better if they had a chance at escaping unrecognized.
Sombra used her other finger to tap a calm Mercy on her nose. "Boop!" she sang as the two of them dissolved in a ray of purple light, leaving Mercy with twenty seconds to escape.
...
Lena made haste the instant she was back in the present. For the next few hours, she ran to the docs, where she knew she could find a cargo ship that would pass by Gibraltar. In her current state, she didn't grow weary, though she would likely feel all the backlash from the strain on her body and injuries from the fight with the assassin back in King's Row. That sounded like the touch of an angel to someone who couldn't even feel anything.
As she was running, she thought. Why was she blinking back to her experiences when she first got her condition? Why did it have to put her in Winston's shoes? Lena didn't realize just how much pain she caused him. Did he blame himself for her Chronal Disassociation? He must've thought he was the reason why the Slipstream crashed.
No! There was no way it was his fault! Perhaps it was some malfunction with the teleportation matrix, but that did not mean it was his fault! Maybe the crash was caused by mere chance: the universe pulling some cruel prank, with nothing that could be done. One this was for certain, though. It was NOT Winston's fault. Lena would make sure he knew that the moment she could speak again.
Lena's thoughts moved in circles as she ran. She never stopped: Lena ran as fast as she could for a full ten hours. Her body would feel the backlash when she got her harness back, but that didn't matter to her now. She needed to get to Gibraltar, first. She reached the coast sooner than expected. Being able to blindly run through obstacles did have its advantages, Lena supposed.
The cargo ship was still loading when she got there, with crates of goods being lifted onto the boat via crane. Taking her chances, when nobody was looking, Lena sneaked up to the pier, which was a sturdy stone, able to support her soundly. The ocean was calm and beautiful, and the ship towered over her. Carefully, Lena lined herself up with one of the windows on the lower floors. It was just below the pier, and she should be able to dive through it.
With a running jump, she leaped across the two-meter gap. A slight cold ran through her nonexistent body as she passed through the surprisingly dense window. She clattered silently to the metal floor, landing in a heap. Thankfully, the floors and walls were dense enough to support her odd form, though not very well. If she put any amount of effort towards it, she could easily fall through both walls and floor. It was as though she was lying on gelatine.
Deciding attention was not something she craved, Lena cautiously walked past the rows of crates filled with goods until she reached the front of the ship, which had a small window nearby Lena could use to figure out when to jump out. She guessed there would be at least thirty hours of travel until she reached the base, with a total of another ten before the boat left the docks, as it did not seem to be full of much cargo yet. She would have to hope her next blink out of reality was a short one.
Then she sat and waited. It was an activity she had grown used to, though not one she missed. It was all she was able to do when she had to spend those long hours in the stabilization chamber alone. She had learned the best way to pass the time was to not think. It was ironic. When she was stuck in her awful time vortex, she would be out of reality itself, but when she was present, she had to intentionally tune out reality to remain sane.
Lena smiled. Soon, she'd be back in Gibraltar, and Winston could help her get her harness back. She would be perfectly fine. There was nothing to worry about for now. They would find her harness and get it back soon. She wasn't sure how, but they'd figure something out.
The ship had barely started moving when Lena's vision clouded. She mentally sighed in defeat. At least the ship's density should keep her on the boat while she was faded since there was some slight amount of presence she still had.
Then the world flickered and vanished, forcing her back into her endless void of darkness.
...
Tracer and Winston wordlessly rode the helicopter back to one of the headquarters located in the Straight of Gibraltar. The sun was shining brilliantly and the base was crowded with scientists, soldiers, and other day-to-day workers.
Winston had spent the time trying to give Tracer a cursory assessment, though was completely unable to make any progress. It was a large helicopter, with plenty of space in the back of the aircraft for Tracer and Winston.
Tracer's eyes were wide and fearful, as she sat, curled in a ball on the floor, as though the walls could not support her, which may have been true. Neither of them wanted her to find out.
"Don't worry, Lena; we'll figure this out!" Winston assured in a shaky voice, using a small HoloVid projector to type in a description of her transparent state.
Tracer smiled assuringly, then letting out a sient screech as the helicopter encountered turbulence, creating a jolt. She hugged her legs and squeezed her eyes shut as she sank through the Helicopter for a split second. She scrambled to force herself back onto the surface of the platform.
"Can you feel the ground?" Winston asked to her with a mixture of pity and curiosity.
Tracer held her hand up and tipped it from side to side in the "somewhat" gesture. She hugged her shoulders and feigned being chilled.
"So it's like passing through cold water?"
Tracer thought for a second before slowly nodding.
"Can you feel smaller things, such as this pen?" Winston held out a pen he kept with him to Tracer, who hesitated, before reaching for it. Her hand passed harmlessly through it, not moving the pen at all. Her eyes dimmed, and she looked down, shaking her head.
"Oh! I'm sorry! That was inconsiderate of me..." Winston apologized, putting his large hand on his face.
Tracer snapped to attention and shook her head, putting on another smile.
"I'm sorry, Tracer. This is my fault... this whole thing... I did this..." he mumbled, leaning back against the cold metal wall of the helicopter.
Tracer shook her head quickly, waving his guilt off.
"Heh, don't worry! I'll fix this! I'll rebuild the slipstream matrix and run diagnostics on the system when put through high-altitude situations to find out what happened, and-" Tracer blankly listened to him drone on for hours, grateful for the distractions.
The instant the helicopter landed in Gibraltar, scientists and doctors rushed out to greet her. Some of them looked worried, some looked excited. They guided her away from the helipad that overlooked the azure sea and into a room filled with cluttered papers, scanners, and strange electronic devices she didn't recognize. Winston forced some of the less sympathetic scientists to leave the room, much to their dismay.
Tracer flinched as one of the doctors attempted to touch her arm, jumping as his hand passed through it easily.
"It's like moving through the air, did you feel that, Ms. Oxton?" Tracer shook her head slowly, pulling her arms away and holding her wrist at her chest.
"Can you feel the ground? You don't seem to be falling through that."
Winston cut in for her. "She can't feel anything specific, though the denser the object is, the more it can support her," he warily informed, keeping his gaze steady on his friend.
Tracer sat on the ground and watched absently as Winston, and the other researchers, ran scans throughout the chamber, searching for a reading they could use as a basis for analysis.
"Incredible. She is showing no heat signatures, heart rate, even brainwaves! It's like she's not even here! The only scanner remotely picking her up is the one detecting energy anomalies!" one male scientist in a white lab coat marveled, typing notes on a HoloVid faster than Tracer could watch.
She... wasn't there? Was she even alive? Was she even a living being anymore, or just a thing that thought she was when she was really dead? Was this all just a nightmare? What was she?
Winston noticed Tracer's expression of shock and shot a sideways glare at the man. "So, you mean her molecules, her cells, everything that makes Lena... Lena, aren't fully here?"
"It would seem so! The oblivious scientist mused without a glance.
"Then where are they? And why is she only partly here, in that case?"
"She crashed while piloting the Slipstream jet, correct? Ms. Oxton," he began, turning to her. "Did you experience anything unusual in the plane itself before the crash? Something that directly affected you, and not just the plane?"
Tracer thought for a moment, her eyes widening. She nodded vigorously, the scientist's eyes lighting up with excitement.
"Really? Can you tell us?" Winston gave the man an unamused glare, pulling out a sheet of paper and writing the alphabet on it.
"Here, Lena, just point to each of the letters to spell out what happened." Winston scribbled down each letter she pointed to. "E, L, E, C, T, R, O, C, U, T, E... Electrocute? Something electrocuted you in the plane?"
Tracer bit her lip remembering the horrible pain tearing through her body. She held her hand up, signifying the number two.
"I-I see," Winston sympathized, looking miserable. "Did it come from the teleportation matrix?"
Tracer both shrugged and nodded. It seemed likely.
"I see. I'll need to run tests on it. With the current resources, I should be able to rebuild a less potent version of it... Lena!" Winston suddenly shouted, causing Tracer to jump. "What's happening to you?"
Tracer looked down, her nonexistent heart stopping. She was fading. Her body was even more see-through than before, and her legs had all but vanished.
Her eyes widened, her breathing sped up, and she tried to shout to Winston. "Help me!" She mouthed, as her vision clouded.
The scientists and doctors scrambled to try to do something as Lena's vision faded, and the last thing she saw before traveling to her void of darkness was Winston's helpless, self-loathing expression as she vanished.