Feathers of Faith and Steel
Chapter 5 – The Quietus
Apartment Block, Tarbes
1 Week Ago - 1709 Hours
"Angela!"
All around the haze clawed at her, stinging and biting, but Fareeha barely registered it. Her vision narrowed, collapsing inwards until all she could see was her companion slumped on the floor, unmoving. The image seemed remote…distant; as if viewed the wrong way down a telescope. However, no amount of visual distortion could hide the truth. Angela had been hit.
The world slowed to a crawl as Fareeha's brain played catch-up, struggling to process the rapid series of events that had totally blindsided her over the last few seconds. Her eyes darted left and right, surveying and assessing every facet of the situation. In her heightened state, she could feel each individual beat of her heart, and with each one, a fresh surge of adrenaline spurring her on. It was times like these, when her conscious mind was still reeling from shock, that she fell back on her training and soldier's intuition.
It had been a trap. That much was obvious. The ramifications of that were severe, but right now, irrelevant. She had to protect Angela, and they had to escape; link up with the others. To do that, she needed to get this damned gas out of her face.
The solution presented itself almost immediately. Holding her breath, Pharah closed all the exhaust ports across her Raptora suit and fired off a few fuel injection cycles. After a second of letting the waste fumes build in pressure she opened the shutters again, releasing a blast of air that effectively dissolved the purple cloud around her. The burning sensation in her throat and nostrils still didn't abate, but she was once again able to fully inhale, and as soon as she found her voice, she was already shouting down her comm link.
"All units, we've been engaged by Talon, seventh floor. Unknown number of hostiles, but they've got a bead on the east side window. The hostages aren't here, and Mercy's been hit." Pharah ran to Angela's aid as she fired off her report, keeping a low profile to avoid any follow-up sniper shots. "It was a trap. Requesting immediate backup and extraction. She needs medical attention ASAP."
The other end of the line cut in after a few seconds, and Pharah's ears were immediately assaulted by the harsh sounds of gunfire.
"They're here as well," McCree replied over the din, punctuating his words with the roar of his Peacekeeper. "Just came 'outta nowhere a few seconds ago. Genji and I are trying to make our way to ya but they've got us pinned two floors down."
"I'm en-route with Team 2 and a medivac unit," 76 interjected. "We're no more than two minutes out. McCree, Genji, sit tight and try not to get yourselves killed. Pharah, do you have a clear path to the roof?"
"Yes."
"Take it. We'll come to you."
Please, for the love of Isis, hurry!
"Affirmative," Pharah replied out loud. "I'll try and stabilise-!"
Her communiqué was cut short as a flash of movement in her peripheral vision grabbed her attention. She had just enough time to reflexively brace herself before the window, already weakened by the round which had pierced it earlier, shattered into the room. A female figure swung through the opening on the end of a metal line, twisting lithely through the air to land in a splayed, predatory position just feet from the fallen medic. Pharah caught the briefest glimpse of pale blue skin and seven red eyes regarding her coldly before she was immediately thrown onto the defensive once again.
The next moments passed in a total blur of desperate, close-quarters combat. Pharah levelled her rocket launcher, but hesitated for a split-second, aware that there was no guarantee Angela would be far enough from the explosion if the shot hit. That was all the time her aggressor needed to strike. A hail of bullets filled the air, forcing Pharah to dive to one side. She felt several rounds strike her right flank but her armour successfully deflected them, throwing up angry sparks. The weapon was apparently low calibre, but she knew there were enough weak points in the joints of her suit for it to still pose a threat. Her own gun was basically useless in this confined space, so her best bet would be to disarm her enemy and level the playing field.
With that in mind she surged forward, hoping the element of surprise would be enough to close the distance between them. Apparently the mysterious woman had anticipated that move, however, as she nimbly sidestepped the attack and lashed out with a punishing kick aimed at the back of Pharah's leg. The soldier was able to twist and catch the blow on her better-protected thigh, but it was still enough to stagger her momentarily, negating the follow-up punch she'd been preparing.
A gleam of metal caught Pharah's eye as she recovered, and she quickly identified it as Mercy's pistol, lying discarded on the ground. Now that was a weapon she could use. It was out of reach, but she had a few tricks of her own that might work. She feinted right, just enough to disrupt the Talon agent's aim, then fired off a short, controlled burst to readjust her course left. The jet propelled her across the room at alarming speed but Pharah was ready for it. She tucked into a roll as she landed, conserving her momentum, and dived for the gun as her feet touched the floor again.
Her fingers had just grazed the grip when it was snatched away; snared by her attacker's grapple and flung unceremoniously out of reach. Pharah snarled, pivoting on the spot and snapping up her left arm. She couldn't risk an explosion in here but even a missile with a disabled warhead could be deadly if it struck its target dead on. The concussive rocket ignited and blasted from its housing, momentarily illuminating the dingy room with harsh, fiery light. Her aim was true, but the woman responded with a flexibility that seemed impossible for a regular human. She sunk into a splits and arched her back at an almost ninety-degree angle, ducking under the shot by mere millimetres.
Pharah was running out of options but she recognised the opening she'd created. Superhuman gymnast or not, there was no way someone could recover from that position immediately. It was the perfect opportunity to press the attack. However, she was acutely aware of the still-unconscious Angela, and how vulnerable she was at this moment. Every second this woman delayed her, the doctor's condition worsened. Pharah hadn't had a chance to fully assess Mercy's injury but it had looked bad…bad enough that her bleeding out was a very real concern. It would take a few seconds to get her out the door, and now was perhaps the only chance she'd get.
She was just about to grab Angela and make a break for it when the entire outer wall collapsed.
One moment it was there, the next it had been completely ripped away; torn down by steel anchor cables attached to a large, black aircraft holding position just outside the building. It bore no markings, but it didn't take a genius to figure out who it belonged to.
More Talon.
There was no other choice. Escape looked impossible, but she had to try or Angela was as good as dead. Pharah reached out for the unconscious woman…and was yanked backwards violently just before she could make contact.
Kuss ummak!
Pharah swore she caught a burst of cruel laughter sounding behind her as the blue woman's grappling hook threw her onto her back. Before she'd even hit the ground she was tensing her muscles to rise again, but her attacker was already on top of her. A long, sinuous leg wrapped around the arm she was using to support herself, pinning it in place. With her free hand, Pharah tried to deliver a strike to the woman's gut, but it was intercepted. Her assailant caught the fist mid blow, exerting an incredible amount of strength for someone with such a slim figure.
"Incroyable, what fire you have," the Talon agent smirked. At some point during the fight, her headgear had retracted, revealing a dark, angular face that would have been strikingly beautiful if it weren't for the utter lack of life behind her eyes. "She must mean a great deal to you, non?"
"Go to hell, snake," Pharah spat, gritting her teeth and straining against the hold. The other woman was strong, but she could feel her grasp loosening.
"Un serpent? Careful with your words, amoureux. They may come back to bite you."
A searing, white-hot pain suddenly erupted in Pharah's side, just beneath her ribs. Looking down, she saw a slender combat knife buried to the hilt in a join between two plates of her armour. The woman must have had it hidden in her boot.
Oh…fuck.
As if that wasn't bad enough, between the legs of her captor, she could see the gangway of the Talon dropship opening. At least a dozen armed mercenaries disembarked, jumping the short distance through the ruined wall and into the apartment. It was difficult to make out more; her vision was beginning to swim as the waves of pain from her wound intensified.
Got to…get out…save…
A fresh stab of agony drew a choked cry from her throat as her attacker tugged the blade out. She twirled it for a moment between her fingers, examining the wet blood along its length, before turning back to Pharah with the slightest hint of a smile.
"Such a pretty girl. Killing you almost seems like a waste. But, à la vie, à la mort."
The woman positioned her knife for the fatal blow. Pharah was still struggling in her grasp, but it was rapidly becoming futile. The puncture in her abdomen was draining all her strength, and even if she could break free, she'd be in no state to take on a whole squad of armed Talon operatives. But she had to try. As long as there was the slightest trace of resistance left in her, she had to fight.
Because the alternative was abandoning the person she loved.
Oh gods…I do love her, don't I?
Why hadn't she realised sooner?
The blade came down, but just as the end seemed inevitable, the third unbelievable thing in just as many minutes happened.
A green streak flashed across Pharah's vision, passing mere millimetres in front of her face. It caught the knife as it descended, glancing off with a resounding ting of metal on metal, and sent her adversary's weapon spiralling out of her grasp.
"Quelle?" The blue woman's eyes shot up, locking onto something Pharah couldn't see.
"I suggest you let go of her," a mechanical voice sounded, followed by a swoosh of air and the hum of steel as a blade was unsheathed. "The dragon hungers, and you and your men look like an excellent feast."
"Very poetic," came a familiar southern drawl. "Can I start shooting now?"
Immediately, the room descended into chaos. The pressure on Pharah's chest was lifted as the assassin sprung off her to counter this new threat. All around, Talon opened fire, the muzzle flashes and reports of their weapons blurring together in a dizzying cacophony of light and sound. Somewhere to her right, as far as she could tell, one of McCree's flashbangs detonated, and she caught a glimpse of several mercenaries reeling, clutching at their faces. Bullets ricocheted in all directions, throwing up fragments of concrete and wood as shots missed their mark of were deflected by Genji's superhuman reflexes. The din was overwhelming, crowding in from all sides, and Pharah could feel herself slipping as more blood oozed from the opening in her belly.
No…no, I still have a job to do.
As if on cue, the sharp knock of a round pinging off her helmet brought her back to her senses. Her own wound was irrelevant; the priority was still Angela's safety. The medic was completely exposed, and Pharah knew that no matter how careful Genji and McCree were, there was no guarantee she wouldn't be caught in the crossfire. Casting her gaze through the confusing jumble of legs and, now, corpses, Pharah singled out the white of Mercy's Valkyrie suit.
I'm coming Angela. Hold on.
Rolling onto her front and grimacing against the pain, she forced herself to put one hand in front of the other, crawling her way towards her injured teammate. Each pull flexed her abdominal muscles, which felt like they had a rusty razor blade lodged deep within them. In the back of her mind, it occurred to her that the injury was either worse than she'd thought, or that the knife had been poisoned. Possibly both.
No time for that now.
Somewhere over her head a man cried out, and Pharah felt a splash of warm liquid on the back of her neck. She was vaguely aware of Genji withdrawing his blade from a mercenary's jugular, but she didn't stop to check what was happening. Just like earlier, her whole world consisted solely of Angela, now only a few feet in front of her.
I won't let them hurt you. I promise.
She was practically on top of Mercy when her vision began to blur. The air seemed to shimmer, and Angela's blood-flecked features grew fainter. Pharah's first thought was that the pain was finally getting the better of her, but as she desperately stretched out her hand, she realised that she could see it with perfect clarity. Whatever the ripple was, it wasn't in her mind; it was a physical presence in the room.
The distortion intensified, morphing into a thick fog which in turn congealed into a humanoid figure. It loomed over Pharah, seemingly oblivious to the gunfire whizzing through the air. Several stray rounds struck its chest but they passed right through, leaving only a few wisps of vapour in their wake. However, when it raised one leg and brought a thick combat boot down on her extended arm, it was suddenly very, very solid. Her rigid armour absorbed the blow, but it wasn't enough to protect against the savage kick to her gut that came moments later. Agony exploded from Pharah's wound, burning through every nerve in her body and setting her on fire from the inside out.
For a couple of seconds, everything went dark.
When her eyes opened again, a chill went down her spine, cold enough to register even above the pain. The ghostly figure was hunched over Angela, studying her from behind a skeletal mask and a thick, black hood. Its very existence felt wrong and obscene, like something that should never have existed had clawed its way out of a nightmare. For a brief moment the abomination was as still as the grave, simply watching and waiting while carnage raged on all sides. Then it nodded, as if satisfied with what it saw, and closed a clawed hand around Angela's halo.
No!
Pharah tried with all her might to move, to will herself into action, but her body refused to listen. She could do nothing but watch helplessly as, in one powerful motion, the figure slung Angela ten feet through the air to crash into the hold of the Talon dropship.
"Fall back," it ordered immediately after, and Pharah recognised the same hateful growl she'd heard on the recording. "We have what we came for."
At once the battle shifted, as Talon operatives began retreating to their craft. The demon was already striding off, oblivious to the men on either side who fell before McCree's deadly aim. On the way, and almost as an afterthought, it bent down to pluck Mercy's Caduceus staff off the ground, tossing it disdainfully after its owner.
"Dammit Jack, they're taking her!" McCree shouted, giving voice to what Pharah could not. "We need that air support yesterday!"
"I've got them in my sights," came the crackling reply. "Everyone hold on. Danger close!"
Through the ruined wall, a rapidly approaching fleck of orange could be seen against the turgid sky. 76 had the transport on full burn, and was closing at an alarming rate.
"Do not fire directly on their vessel. Mercy is within," Genji said urgently. On the other end of the line, Pharah caught a snippet of cut-off cursing.
"Copy that," 76 said through clenched teeth. "A shot to the starboard engine should – "
"Don't waste your time."
The grating voice stopped everyone in their tracks. It was on the secure channel, but it was not one of their own. On the gangway of the Talon dropship, the figure turned, staring back at the group.
You. Pharah locked eyes with the beast that dared to lay a hand on Angela. I will end you for what you've done!
As if in response to her thoughts, it drew one clawed hand across its throat, and barked a harsh chuckle directly into Pharah's earpiece.
"You lost this battle before it even began."
The hatch began to shut and, with a mighty roar, the craft's engines spun up.
"Ten seconds to positive lock!" 76 shouted.
But Pharah knew. The second the figure had locked eyes with her, she'd known that they would fail. Talon had been one step ahead of them at every turn, and now that they had what they wanted, escape was merely a formality. The ghost and the spider had played her for a fool…and Angela had trustingly followed her straight into their snare.
Pharah spat out a choked sound halfway between a sob and a scream of frustration as the door fully closed, sealing away her Angela in a steel tomb.
Forgive me habib alby.
The air around the dropship shifted, dissolving and twisting into a pixelated blur that spread like a wave along the vessel's belly. It happened almost faster than the human eye could track, and by the time it was done, only thin air remained where the Talon transport had been moments ago. It was like it had simply blinked out of existence.
And just like that, she was gone.
"What in the hell…?" McCree cried disbelievingly.
As one last insult on top of the injury, the mag round from the Overwatch aircraft blasted out of the sky, striking nothing but dirt.
"Cloaking tech…" 76 hissed over the comms, accompanied by a crash as he slammed his fist down on a console. "We suspected those bastards were working on it, but no intel suggested they had a functioning prototype."
"But we can still track them on radar, right?" McCree said.
"The camouflage is full spectrum. None of our current instruments can detect that dropship, but I'll requisition some high altitude reconnaissance to scan the area. If we're lucky, they won't be able to keep the cloaking field active for long, and we might be able to reacquire them."
"And if we're unlucky?"
No one wanted to answer that.
Far too late, Pharah finally found the strength to haul herself to her feet. She teetered on the spot, aware of the pain that threatened to send her crashing back down again, but strangely separate from it. Her whole being was numb and distant; like she was watching someone else's life through their eyes. On autopilot, she stepped forward, approaching the precipice. She wasn't even sure what she was doing, but the thought of inaction in the face of such abysmal failure was intolerable.
Angela…
Another shaky footfall threatened to overbalance her. Suddenly, Genji was at her side, resting a hand lightly on her chest and stopping her in her tracks.
"There is nothing you can do, Fareeha," he said quietly. "Take off now, and you will fall. Save your rage for the opportune moment."
Fareeha blinked. Rage? Heartbreak? Despair? She couldn't put words to the chasm opening in her chest. The last time she'd felt even remotely similar, she'd been but a child…a young girl who'd just been told of her mother's death. And now, for all her training - all the strength she'd thought she'd found - she was as powerless as she had been then.
"W-We..." Her voice was small and frail, barely more than a whisper and only audible to the cyborg beside her. "We'll get her back…w-won't we?"
Genji nodded.
"We shall"
The first thing that Angela became aware of was the sensation of something cold and hard pressing against her cheek. It existed in isolation, alone in a black void without sight, sound, or memory of what had just happened. The feeling was not inherently unpleasant, but it bore an undercurrent of foreboding that she could not place; like it was a signal of something much, much worse.
W-where am I?
That point of reference alone was not enough to paint a clear picture, so for want of a better plan, Angela waited patiently for her other faculties to return. Sure enough, one by one, they faded in. The unyielding chill that pressed against her face spread down her right side, and close behind it, a dull ache that felt like her entire body was bruised. Her head swam, groggy from what she presumed had been a period of unconsciousness, but also with a vertigo that indicated she was moving. There was a vestigial sting in her throat and upper chest, like she had swallowed something unpleasant. And finally, distinct and overpowering, a burning splinter of pain in her shoulder. It was almost like…
Angela's eyes snapped open as the memories came flooding back. The mission, the apartment block, the room, Talon's trap, and the shot that had knocked her out; it all raced through her mind like a video played on fast-forward.
Oh scheiße.
The urge to panic reared its head, but Angela knew that would accomplish nothing. Hyperventilation was likely to send her back under. Instead, she focussed on maintaining steady breathing, and forced her attention outwards.
Wherever she was now, it wasn't where she had been. There were no wooden floorboards or peeling plaster walls. She lay on a metal deck in a confined space, illuminated with dim, red lighting. All around was a low humming frequency that muffled other noise, and every few seconds, she got another sensation of movement. Putting the pieces together, it was clear that she was in some kind of transport.
Not Overwatch though.
Which left only one alternative.
Angela's heart skipped a beat. As her senses finished attuning, she began to detect the murmur of voices throughout the compartment. She couldn't see anyone from her angle, but it sounded like at least five separate individuals, maybe more. Given that she wasn't confident in her ability to take even one on, and that was without a debilitating shoulder injury, fighting her way free was out of the question. There had to be some alternative.
Looking around as best she could without moving her head and drawing attention to herself, Angela tried to ascertain her relative position. It looked like she was towards the rear of the craft, just inside the entrance ramp. Perhaps, if she was fast enough, she could release the hatch and bail out before anyone could stop her. It was a long shot, but now, while the transport was still in motion, was her best and perhaps only opportunity. It would take perhaps two seconds to reach the release button, and after that, it all depended on how quickly the door opened. That would be plenty of time for an alert mercenary to put a fatal round in her back, but given that they'd gone to all this trouble to take her alive…
It was a crap plan, but it was the only one she had.
Angela tensed, doing her best to block out the throbbing that had spread across her chest and arm.
Three…
Two…
Out of nowhere, a boot struck her in the small of her back, savagely forcing her down to the deck again. The impact knocked out the breath she'd been holding, and sent fresh tendrils of pain shooting from her wound. Angela struggled, trying to twist free, but her attacker applied more weight, pinning her in place. A gun was brought up right beside her head and suddenly she was deafened by a high-pitched ringing, as it was fired into the floor at point-blank range. She cried out, but couldn't even hear her own voice.
Hands grabbed the back of her suit, and she felt them roughly yanking at something. Several powerful motions later, sparks cascaded across the floor, before being joined by the mangled remains of her wings. Angela watched in horror as whoever had stopped her escape stamped on them again and again, until there was nothing left but ruined scrap.
"Get her up."
Two Talon mercenaries took her by the arms, pulling her to her feet. The motion tugged viciously at the torn muscles in her shoulder, and Angela had to bite back a scream.
"I said a non-lethal shot," the figure before her growled. His voice was raw, and tinged with an insidious, ethereal quality…but there was something more. Even in her semi-delirious sate, Angela could swear there was something familiar about it; beyond the fact that she'd heard it on the recording.
In the background, half hidden by shadow, a slim, blue-skinned woman shrugged.
"She's alive, non?"
"Not for long if we leave her like this. Give me that."
One of the soldiers handed the 'man' Mercy's Caduceus staff. He grunted in acknowledgement, taking it as if he'd rather be holding just about anything else. Raising it to the hole in Angela's suit, he flicked the button, and engaged the healing stream.
In spite of everything, Angela couldn't help but feel a small rush of relief as the healing rays washed over her. The pain and grogginess clouding her mind receded, and she could sense a tingling across her shoulder blade as tendon and bone were knitted back together. It only took a few seconds before the wound was fully healed, and the shrapnel that had been lodged inside her was scattered on the floor.
As soon as she was recovered, the figure tossed the staff aside.
"Don't expect any more favours like that. We may need you alive, but unharmed is definitely not necessary."
"And who is 'we'?" Angela asked crisply, finding a scrap more courage now that she wasn't crippled with agony. "Who are you?"
The man laughed; an utterly humourless expression.
"You'll find out soon enough, doctor Ziegler. You're property of Talon now."