Feathers of Faith and Steel

Chapter 4 – Mamihlapinatapai

French Airspace

1 Week Ago - 1637 Hours

"Ten minutes to target. Begin final equipment checks."

Pharah spun the clip of her rocket launcher with her thumb, feeling for any signs of catching or wear. Even the smallest amount of sticking could lead to a weapon jam at a crucial moment, or worse, cause a misaligned rocket to detonate prematurely in the firing chamber. Needless to say, that would be bad; not just for her, but also for anyone in a two metre radius.

Although there was no such as thing as being too careful, even someone as meticulous as her knew it wasn't really necessary. She'd checked the magazine twice already, not to mention the fact that she'd oiled it less than an hour earlier. Unsurprisingly, it was still fine, as were her fuel levels, hydraulic pressure, and aileron servos. But going over all her gear for a third time kept her occupied, and provided an excuse for not making small talk.

In spite of that, she still risked a brief glance up, under the guise of checking the ETA. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a brief glimpse of movement, and she swore she saw Angela avert her gaze just as quickly. She couldn't be sure however, as the doctor now seemed to be thoroughly occupied with calibrating her staff. The same staff she'd been obsessively fiddling with every time Fareeha had looked her way in the past half hour.

Must be a delicate piece of equipment. I'm surprised it's suitable for battlefield use.

Fareeha sighed, but only internally so as not to draw attention. This awkward silence was killing her. It wasn't that she didn't want to talk to Angela. She really, really did. When they'd entered the transport, she'd been pleased to see the other woman sit directly across from her without a second thought, despite the fact that almost every other seat had been free at that point. They'd exchanged warm greetings, but then…nothing. Compared to Jesse, who even now was talking Genji's ear off, Fareeha had been silent as the grave. She'd rewarded Angela's eagerness for her company by ignoring her completely; or at least, that's how it must seem.

Some friend I am.

But therein lay the problem. The word 'friend' didn't really seem sufficient anymore - not from her point of view anyway - but she had no clue what to replace it with. 'Close friend'? 'Best friend'? 'Girl friend'? None of them fit as well as she'd like. All she knew was that whatever they were now, it made conversing with Angela much more difficult. Whereas before she'd just spoken her mind with no hesitation, now Fareeha found herself constantly worrying that she was being boring, or that they'd run out of things to talk about, or that she'd say something that would be misinterpreted as weird or inappropriate. It was stupid, really. Angela's behaviour hadn't changed at all, so why had her own?

I think you know the answer to that.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Huh, did someone speak? Wait…she did…crap!

"W-what?" Fareeha zoned back into the real word just in time to hear Angela repeat her question, and immediately got distracted again by her expression.

Ya lahwy, why does she have to smile like that all the time? How am I meant to think straight?!

"I…er…penny?"

Oh great. Real smooth.

"Just a saying," Angela chuckled. "It means 'what are you thinking'? You looked like you were a million miles away just now."

"Oh, yeah." Fareeha laughed as well, although hers was more nervous than jolly. "I guess I did space out a bit. I-I was just focussing on the mission."

"Hmm?" Angela didn't seem entirely convinced, which was hardly surprising. Even Fareeha herself could admit it sounded weak. What was she meant to say though? 'I can't get you out of my head and it's driving me crazy'? Yeah, there was no way that was happening.

Although being caught daydreaming was embarrassing, Fareeha was glad that one of them had taken the initiative and spoken up. Maintaining a conversation was easier than starting one, so it was important not to waste this opportunity.

"Are you good to go?" she asked. It felt like a painfully banal question compared to those swirling around in her head, but at least it kept things flowing.

"I think so. To be honest, I was ready as soon as we got on the transport. But I always see you military types fiddling with your guns and armour. I wanted to fit in."

Fareeha gave an amused snort, shaking her head. She couldn't remember ever meeting someone as carefree as Angela, though she suspected that the other woman played it up sometimes just to make fun of her. Still, it was odd that someone who had undoubtedly seen more death and suffering than anyone else in the room could still be the most light-hearted one of the group. Maybe pathological optimism was necessary in Angela's line of work.

"That 'fiddling' could very well save both our lives," Fareeha said, emphasising her point with another spin of the magazine. "Trust me, the last thing you want is for this to misfire. I know you're a miracle worker, but I don't think even you could piece us back together after that."

"I could give it a shot," Angela said. "Probably best avoided though. I might lose track of which bits belonged to whom."

Comparing the almost alabaster fairness of Angela's skin to the coffee colour of her own, Fareeha somehow doubted that. But it did give her a change to segue into a question she'd had on her mind for some time now.

"Now that you mention it, I've always wondered how that works," she said, gesturing to the staff.

"This?" Angela thumbed a button, and the head of the device lit up. "Would you like the long version or the short version?"

"Whichever one doesn't require PhDs in bioengineering and applied mathematics to understand."

"Bioengineering and nanophysics actually, although the second one is mostly honorary," Angela replied with a wry smile. "Okay. You're familiar with DNA, yes? It's the blueprint for your body contained in every one of your cells. The first thing the Caduceus Staff does when the beam makes contact is sample the patient's DNA, so it knows what they should be like when healthy. That makes it easy to locate the injury. The next step is to deliver nanobots to the target area to stimulate stem cell growth. Stem cells are basically blank slates that can differentiate into many different kinds of tissue. Finally, the nanobots arrange these stem cells into whatever configuration is necessary to repair the wound. This is similar to how the body heals naturally, but the process is dramatically accelerated."

"I think I get it. So, in theory, the staff could regrow entire limbs even?"

"Yes, but it would not be advisable. When fabricating new cells, the further you get from the source tissue - that is, the person's actual body - and the more complex the structure, the greater the risk of errors. This sacrifice in precision was necessary in order to condense the technology enough to make it portable. The staff could replace someone's missing leg, but it would likely be deformed or lacking vital parts such as tendons or bones in the foot. In the worst case, it could even create problems at the cellular level, such as cancers or endocrinitis. Don't worry though; for normal injuries, the chances of such a thing happening are infinitesimal. When it comes to more serious trauma, a better approach would be… oh dear, I'm babbling, aren't I?"

"What? No, not at all. Honestly, I find it fascinating." In fact, Fareeha had been mesmerised. The topic was surprisingly interesting, and although she was certain that the doctor was giving her a very simplified version, she felt quite pleased with herself for being able to follow even this much of the science. More than that, though, it was simply an utter joy to watch an excitable Angela talk at length on a subject she was passionate about. The speed of her speech increased and her whole body became animated, as if she was barely able to keep up with her eagerness to share her knowledge. And her smile, which was always quick to appear in any situation, now stretched almost ear-to-ear. Fareeha didn't want it to stop.

"So, you were the one that discovered all the science behind this technology? You designed these nanobots and the staff and built them yourself?"

"W-Well, not totally by myself," Angela replied, suddenly seeming a little bashful. "My work was based on an earlier paper by a Chinese team. All I did was make some modifications to their design so that the nanobots could avoid rejection by the patient's immune system. And as for the staff, Torbjörn was the one who was able to miniaturize a power source strong enough to sustain the containment field for the delivery beam."

"Don't sell yourself short," Fareeha said earnestly, surprised at the confidence in her voice that was completely at odds with how she felt inside. "I mean, I always knew you were smart, but…wow. Even a luddite like me can tell what a major breakthrough your work was. You might have had help, but it's your invention in the end. Without you, they'd still be struggling with the theory today. Just think of how many lives it's saved. You're…that's incredible."

Fareeha stopped her effusive response as she noticed that Angela's pale complexion had now gone from slightly flushed to bright red. Not only that, but she realised that in her eagerness to laud the doctor, she was taking their 'safe' topic of conversation dangerously close to more personal issues.

Oh gods, did I come on too strong? Look how much she's blushing. I shouldn't have put her on the spot like that.

"I'm sorry," Fareeha added hastily, hoping that she could still salvage the conversation after so expertly sabotaging it. "I didn't mean to embarrass you."

It took Angela a few heartbeats to recover. She hooked a finger into her collar, tugging at it slightly to try and alleviate some of the heat around her neck. A small part of Fareeha noted that it was strange that a simple compliment could fluster Angela quite so much, but it was buried beneath the anxiety occupying the other 99% of her brain.

"No, no, please, don't apologise," the other woman stammered at last. "I-I'm not…that is to say…it's…ach du meine Güte, it's just been a long time since anyone said such…such nice things to me. I didn't realise you felt…t-thank you."

Fareeha let out a small sigh of relief, glad that Angela hadn't taken her praise the wrong way.

Or, rather, the right way.

"I mean it. You deserve credit for your accomplishments," she said warmly. "And I also meant it when I said that I'd like to know more about what you do. That is, if you think you can dumb it down to cavewoman level."

"Now who is the one selling themselves short?" Angela replied, shyly catching Fareeha's gaze again. Her blush had abated but had not disappeared entirely. "I don't think a cavewoman would be capable of such charming flattery, or for that matter, such graceful flight."

"You didn't see me the first time I got in this thing. They removed the restraints, I fired up the thrusters…and face-planted so hard into the ceiling it took me a week to recover normal vision." Fareeha pulled an expression somewhere between an amused grin and a grimace of pain. "Suffice to say, I've improved since then."

"Mein Gott," Angela gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. "A week? You are fortunate there was no lasting damage. If only there had been a more attentive doctor to look out for you."

"I guess I wasn't as lucky back then as I am now."

A moment of silence passed between them, but this time it was much more comfortable than before. Fareeha didn't have the overwhelming urge to break it by blurting out any old nonsense, nor the inclination to hide away in the distraction of an irrelevant task. Instead, she simply basked in the comforting glow that being near Angela spread throughout her whole body. It was a feeling of rightness, like everything was exactly where it should be.

Which was odd, Fareeha thought. In spite of her repeated blunders and constantly tripping over her words whenever they were together, she felt like she and Angela were closer now than ever before. Whenever she stumbled and closed up, afraid that she'd done or said something wrong, Angela waited patiently for her to find her courage again. And whenever she did let her guard down, Angela rewarded her tenfold with a warmth and receptiveness that drew Fareeha in like a loving embrace. It was almost enough to make her believe that maybe, just maybe, this connection between them wasn't all in her head.

Is it possible? Is there really a chance that me and her…

"H-Hey." Angela's voice immediately drew Fareeha's attention. She sounded surprisingly hesitant; distinctly different from her usual verboseness, but perhaps unsurprising given that a rosy hue still clung to her cheeks. "You know how we're transferring to Gibraltar soon?"

"Yes," Fareeha replied, nonplussed.

"Well, the medical ward there is much better equipped than the one at Lyon. In fact, they've got a Nanobot Resonance Bifurcator; one of only five in the world. It uses the same technology as the Caduceus Staff, but on a much larger scale, allowing for far more complex procedures. I-I was just thinking, if…if you're interested, when we got there I could, you know…show you how it works…some of the experiments I've been working on? O-only if you want to though. I understand if…"

"I would love to," Fareeha said immediately. Any chance to spend more time with Angela got an automatic 'yes' from her. Although the look of extreme relief that momentarily passed over the other woman's face was a little confusing.

Wait. Was…was she asking me out on a…

"Target building is in range. Insertion team, ready deployment."

Damn.

As much as Fareeha wanted to continue that train of thought, the mission had to take priority; and that announcement signalled that it was time for her and Angela to take their positions by the exit and prepare for an aerial drop.

"We're up," she said, nodding to the door.

"Right. Yes. Let's go rescue those poor hostages."

Fareeha could sense pre-combat jitters in the base of her stomach, but compared to how she felt around Angela, they might as well have been a light tickle. She wondered what it said about her that she was more comfortable confronting trained soldiers than she was confronting her own emotions. Still, this was her element; flying the friendly, and sometimes, not so friendly, skies. It was refreshing to once again have a clear objective, and that was probably why she felt so incongruously at ease.

Good guys. Bad guys. Innocent lives to save. Why can't everything be this simple?

The door to the transport opened and the familiar sound of howling wind filled Pharah's ear. By now they were low enough to make out the silhouettes of individual buildings, rapidly approaching.

"See you ladies on the other side," McCree shouted above the din. He tipped his hat, but retained a tight grip as the swirling air currents threatened to steal it off his head

"If you must strike, strike quickly and decisively," Genji added, still managing to sound calm despite the fact he was practically yelling.

Pharah nodded in their direction but her mind was already running through final flight preparations. She donned her helmet, taking note of the green lights dotting the heads-up display, before nodding with satisfaction. It all looked good. Across her body, she felt a series of tiny vibrations as ailerons and thrust ports aligned into ready positions.

"Have you ever done a drop like this before?" Fareeha asked, raising her own voice enough to be heard. As she said it, she glanced across at Angela, and suddenly felt her breath being stolen away. What had been intended as a quick check that the other woman was in position turned into a stare that she couldn't break.

Angela stood poised on the precipice, gazing out at the sombre sky with a look that was equal parts determination and anxiousness. Her Valkyrie suit was fully prepared for flight, with wings extended and projecting great, lambent feathers of golden energy. Their light mingled with the few defiant rays of sunshine that managed to pierce the oppressive clouds, and seemed to play in the strands of loose hair that whipped around her face. Above her head, the scintillating halo antenna shone bright, casting her whole figure in a heavenly glow. It was a sight better suited to a stained-glass window than a war-torn wasteland.

Gods, she's so beautiful.

Fareeha couldn't put a name to half the feelings running through her head at that moment, but the ache in her chest sent a clear enough message.

"I've done the simulations," Angela called back, breaking the spell she'd inadvertently cast. "I must admit though that they don't quite prepare you for the…height."

Right. Back to the mission.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Fareeha said, stepping closer so she didn't have to shout quite so much. "Just stick close to me and you'll be fine." She hesitated, before adding "I'll keep you safe."

Angela nodded, as if that settled the matter completely.

"Then I have nothing to fear."

The transport bore left, and suddenly they were hovering over the roof of a dilapidated apartment block.

"Greenlight. Go, go, go!"

Fareeha jumped, and sensed, rather than saw, the woman beside her do the same.

You'd better be ready, Talon. Justice rains from above.

"Corridor clear, I'm moving up."

Mercy watched with bated breath as Pharah advanced. The other woman was doing an impressive job at remaining silent, given her thirty kilos of combat armour, but each relatively soft footfall still managed to sound like a hammer blow when compared to the eerie quiet around them. She was obviously not well suited to this kind of operation, but then again, this wasn't what any of them had expected going in.

The plan had been simple, as far as Mercy could tell; surprise Talon from all sides at once, cutting off their escape and trapping them away from the hostages. With her and Pharah above and McCree and Genji below, they'd have nowhere safe to run. Mercy had expected that they would catch Talon off guard, but she'd also assumed a firefight would be inevitable, once the mercenaries realised they were under attack. Despite the jokes and bravado bandied around at home base, she knew that Talon were far from incompetent.

The first sign that something was off had been the lack of sentry on the roof. Even to someone without a soldier's eye for strategy, it seemed like an obvious tactical oversight. Still, she had assumed that maybe Talon wanted to keep a low profile and not draw attention to their presence in the building. Now, that theory was holding less and less water, as so far her and Pharah had descended three levels and had yet to glimpse one sign of enemy activity.

To say it made Mercy uneasy would be an understatement.

"Are we sure this is the right place?" she whispered to the woman in front. The question sounded like a bad joke, even to her, but it was fast becoming one of the only possible explanations.

"It's the only tower this size in the whole town. No way to mistake it for anything else," Pharah replied, although her voice lacked conviction.

"Then maybe our intelligence was wrong?"

"Perhaps. Talon might have changed the time of the move at the last second." If that was the case, then they'd already lost. The hostages were gone, and they'd missed their window. Mercy refused to accept that until there was no other choice.

"We still need to-" Pharah began, but the sudden hint of a distant noise immediately drew Mercy's attention.

"Wait," she cut across her companion, holding one hand up to stop her talking. "I think I hear someone."

Mercy pricked up her ears, freezing every muscle and holding her breath. A few seconds of deathly hush ticked by, then she heard it again; the faintest sound of muffled voices from somewhere below. It was impossible to pick out any words or even if it was a man or woman, but it was definitely a person talking.

"It's got to be at least another two floors down," Pharah murmured. "Let's return to the stairwell."

The next minutes passed in total silence, save for the steadily increasing sounds of speech and the duo's own muffled breaths. Mercy was certain that there would be hostiles on the floor with the captives, but as they crept through it, they were met with nothing but the same empty corridors and burnt-out rooms.

Something is wrong here.

Mercy's instincts were practically screaming at her. She scanned every shadow, checked every corner, eyes peeled for camouflaged enemies or booby traps. It made no sense. Why would Talon leave only a few men to guard the prisoners? Why were there no patrols? Why was there no surveillance? The building seemed utterly abandoned, but there was no denying the conversation coming from the only room that still seemed vaguely intact. By now they were close enough to hear it more clearly. Ahead, Pharah raised a clenched fist, signalling for Mercy to stop so they could listen again.

"I told you, you're wasting your time." The first voice was strained, male, and had an unmistakably French accent. One of the GIGN, Mercy guessed. "We don't have that kind of clearance. No one here has the codes you're looking for."

"So you keep saying." The second voice was enough to make Mercy's eyes widen. It was also male, as far as she could tell, but it sounded neither human nor omnic. There was something unearthly in its rough, reverberating timbre that sent chills down her spine. "A pity I don't believe you."

"It doesn't have to be this way, chéri," came a third voice. Although even more heavily accented than the first, it was entirely different; extremely feminine and oozing with silky smoothness. "My partner will get it out of you, one way or another. Why not make it easy on yourself, hmm?"

"Va te faire enculer! Vous aurez rien de moi!" the GIGN prisoner spat. Mercy winced. She understood enough French to decipher what he was saying, and it was probably not going yield a pleasant result.

"Mon dieu, this one has quite the mouth," the woman said, chuckling softly. "I say we make an example of him. Perhaps then his friends will be more…amicable."

"I was hoping you'd say that," growled her partner.

Mercy felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. She was about to yell to Pharah, but the soldier was already moving, gesturing her forward. They'd clearly both reached the same conclusion simultaneously; they had to strike now or the hostage was a dead man.

Pharah sprinted the few remaining metres to the room before letting off a small blast of her thrusters at the last possible moment. The extra boost of speed gave her enough momentum to break the rotting wood of the door, and with a cry, she barrelled right through it, sending splinters and loamy fragments scattering in all directions. Mercy followed close behind. She clutched her staff in her off hand but with her main she levelled her pistol, ready to put it to use if need be. Her priority, as always, was healing, but she knew that in situations like this it was sometimes necessary to take a few lives in order to save many more. She wouldn't back down from doing what was required.

Mercy's eyes darted left and right, seeking out either of the individuals they'd heard inside or any wounded prisoners that may need her attention.

But there was nothing.

Up ahead, Pharah too slowed to a stop, her war cry petering out as the lack of any opposition became apparent. They were, unmistakably, alone.

I don't understand. What are those voices then?

In unison, both her and Pharah's gazes were drawn to the one feature in the room that separated it from all the others. At the far end, a metal chair rested against the grimy, decaying wall. It stood out from its surroundings, appearing relatively new and clean amongst the decades-old filth that clung to everything else. But what sat on top of it was even more out of place. A radio: from which emanated the sound of gunshots and stifled cries as the raspy-voiced man made good on his threat.

Suddenly, everything made sense.

The whole thing had been a recording. There had never been any Talon here at all, and the hostages were already dead.

They knew we were coming. Our intel was false. Which means…oh god.

Several things happened at once. Pharah turned around, her face ashen almost beyond recognition. Her eyes momentarily locked with Mercy's, but then looked past her, fixating on the wall behind. At the same time, the doctor felt a pressure wave ripple across her back. It wasn't strong - barely enough to ruffle her hair - but in the very next instant her nostrils were assaulted with noxious gas of an overwhelming intensity. A purple haze filled her vision, stinging as fiercely as if someone had poured acid in her eyes. Instinctively, she brought her arm up across face and attempted to cry out for help; but opening her mouth proved to be a mistake, and instead, she gagged on the bitter fumes. She couldn't see Pharah, but was dimly aware of her yelling something unintelligible.

Then, the crisp, clear report of a sniper rifle cracked through the air, loud enough to penetrate even Mercy's overwhelmed senses. In her delirious state, she couldn't tell who had fired, from where, or even if they were friend or foe. That was, until she realised who had been hit.

Oh…so that's what it feels like.

Angela had seen the agony bullet wounds could cause on countless occasions. She knew there was a reason that soldiers sometimes begged for death rather than help. But she'd never experienced it herself.

Until now.

The high-calibre slug had torn right through her shoulder, encountering no resistance from the light, nanocarbon weave she wore as armour. Half a second later, pain beyond anything she'd ever felt erupted from the wound, rampaging like wildfire down her arm and across her chest.

If she could have screamed, she would have.

Another half a second, and the pain was replaced with a numbness that, to a trained medical professional, was even more terrifying. Angela had approximately the length of a single blink to realise that she was going into traumatic shock. It was just enough time to try and thumb the button on her staff and engage the healing stream…but nothing happened. Either she'd dropped it, or the bullet had severed enough nerves to leave her arm essentially paralysed.

Bitte, Fareeha…hilf mir!

Then the world went dark. Like a puppet whose strings had been suddenly cut, Angela collapsed into a limp heap on the ground, and lay still.