Everything seemed to move in slow motion as Kim Jang-Sung dodged and weaved through hammer blows and a hail of lead, His twin blades moved in a blur as they sliced off the weaker plates. He smirked as an idea formed. He stood between the door and his opponent, motionless. As he predicted, the omnic, now out of ammunition, raised its hammer for a massive, electrically charged blow. Jang-Sung leapt out of the way as the hammer crashed down and slammed into the door, ripping it off of its hinges.
"Oh great," Jang-Sung drawled. "Look what you've done. It's like you Gwishin idiots want me to win!" He leapt onto his foe's head, jamming both of his swords into its processor. The omnic's eyes lost their glow, and Jang-Sung took a moment to clean his oil-stained weapons, sheathing them. He entered the room and saw that Hana was strapped to what appeared to be a hospital bed. She looked somewhat worse for wear. Jang-Sung removed his helmet, briskly walking to Hana's side.
He gently shook her shoulders. "Hana…" he said softly, "Hana, can you hear me?"
Hana opened her eyes with a weak groan as Jang-Sung loosened the straps around her wrists and ankles. "Who… who are you…?"
"I am Kim Jang-Sung. I was sent to rescue you. We're going to Pyongyang; the transport's just outside… Hana?" He shook her as she started to faint. "Hana!"
Hana groaned again. "The- they… I didn't…". She gasped weakly.
"You'll be fine… come here…". Jang-Sung gently picked her up after replacing his helmet, carrying Hana to safety. He saw, to his relief, that Korean forces had secured most of the base.
Hana panted weakly as she tried to speak. "Told… Gwi- Gwishin… no… nothing…" she whispered as her breathing became labored.
Jang-Sung gently set Hana down just outside, the cool night air hitting his face as he removed his helmet and gloves. "Hana, you're gonna be fine," he said softly, tilting her head back to ease her breathing.
"Don't… don't go…". She whispered as she took his hand. "Stay… plea… please…". She gasped and let out a sigh as her frame went limp.
Jang-Sung's heart leapt to his throat as he noticed that she'd become completely still.
Hana wasn't breathing.
He felt her neck for a pulse, and when he found none, he breathed for Hana twice, and then he unzipped her famed suit halfway, interlocking his hands on Hana's ample chest and compressing.
"H-Hana?!" A lady with wild brown hair and amber goggles ran out of the sear by transport. "Hana, are you…". She gasped as her hands flew over her mouth.
Jang-Sung breathed for Hana again. "Come on, Hana," he muttered, restarting his compressions. He tuned out the sounds around him as he kept going.
Breathe…
Compressions…
Breathe…
Compressions…
"Breathe for me Hana…"
Don't give up… keep going…
"You can do it, come on…"
The color was slowly returning to her skin…
"She's dead!" the other woman sobbed, tears starting to fall from her eyes. She shook her head in disbelief. "Oh my god, Hana's dead!"
Jang-Sung was absolutely spent, but he was not about to let Hana die. He'd been at this for six minutes, but he wasn't done yet. He'd keep going forever if he had to! About two minutes later, his persistence was rewarded. He breathed for her again, and Hana let out a gasp, coughing as Jang-Sung dropped in exhaustion. Hana was alive… unconscious, but alive. He gently picked her and his helmet and gloves up, hurrying into the transport. "Get a medic immediately," he panted.
"Is she gonna be okay?!"
Jang-Sung, surprised, turned after placing Hana onto a gurney. "They'll do what they can. I'm Kim Jang-Sung."
"Lena Oxton, but everybody calls me Tracer," said the woman thickly. "Oh God… I…". She started crying again. "I thought she was dead…"
"Not if I or modern medicine have anything to say about it."
"I'm here." A blonde woman in a winged suit of armor had walked into the room. "Hana… can you hear me, Schatzi?"
Tracer suddenly held onto Jang-Sung for dear life, trembling like a leaf.
He held Tracer close as she cried; Jang-Sung knew what she was feeling. This wasn't his first battle, and good soldiers had died on his watch… even a few friends. He stroked her hair, rocking her gently. He'd succeeded… but who were these other people working for?