Lena sat behind Winston, her mind racing.

For a while, she just sat there and watched the ape work the controls and speak into microphones, not quite believing what she had done. In fact, she still didn't. Everything seemed to be a blur after she got the sketcher out of storage, and she didn't exactly remember when she came back to the control room.

"Lena? Lena."

She broke out of her trance. "Wha—yes?"

The ape smiled. "I said it was a job well done, setting all this in motion. This wouldn't have been possible without you."

She looked at him, not quite seeing him. "Oh. Yeah, no." The world seemed a little bit bigger from where she sat. "No problem."

Winston turned back to the controls. "Still, it was remarkable how quickly you managed to finish. That took you what, a whole of eight minutes? I barely started the reboot before you just came strolling in, hardly breaking a sweat!"

"Yes, it's a little mad, isn't it?"

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

He adjusted his glasses. "Anyway, it's only a little longer before reinforcements come in, then we can go down to the root of this entire—"

Lena raised her eyes from the floor, vaguely aware at the sudden silence which took the room. "Winston?"

"Impossible."

"What's the matter?"

"I wrote that code… level two clearance! There's no way—"

"Winston!"

"Lena!" The ape turned back around to face her. "Whatever were in those aircraft is overriding the lockdown, Athena just granted access to the bay doors!"

Sure enough, in the sea of vertical red lines that filled one of the screens was a lone green one which stood blinking ominously.

"If they can open one," Winston muttered to himself, "they can open all of them. It's a blanket security over the entire facility, I didn't even consider… stupid!"

"Winston." Lena mind was swept into a state of sudden clarity, a sureness which rested at her very core. "What do we do?"

"We?" He started typing rapidly on several keyboard at a time, filling up screens with code with alarming speed. "We are not going to do anything. I will not put your life in danger, pilot. You will remain here while I – he picked up a long, large object which stood beside the desks – manually remove our intruders."

The hulking metal thing the scientist held in his hands was a strange sight to behold. Two identical horizontal metal plates were bolted down into the main housing of the device, which at the top rested a bright red switch. The plates which flanked the housing had yellow ridges on the innermost side of them, mirroring each other. The entire thing was accented by cables and dials which Lena could only guess what they did, and if the appearance of the peculiar machine wasn't enough, there was a small warning label tagged on the side of the gadget warning against misuse and something about potential injury.

"Well," he said as he began to manipulate the dials and switches on the device, the strange thing starting to vibrate and buzz as he did so, "I suppose now is as good a time as any to test out this new prototype."

The girl stood up from the chair as the ape pulled out what looked like a spacesuit from underneath the desks and shrugged into it. "I'm going with you."

He began buckling the clasps on the suit. "As I've said, I will not jeopardize your—"

"I finished basic training and know my way around a firearm. Give me one, and I will fight."

Any trace of helplessness and doubt which Winston had seen cloud her eyes throughout her entire time here was gone. In its place, was a determination and ferocity he never seen before in her, but only in the eyes of certain soldiers.

He hesitated. "You know you don't have to."

"I want to. I've been staying here freeloading off your food and lodgings, after all. It's time to return the favor." She beamed. "This is my responsibility as much as it is yours, love."

Winston chuckled despite himself. "I never saw it that way."

"I know. Now, can we go?"

The ape stood in front of her for a moment, sizing her up. Her aura was unwavering. He sighed. "Alright." Winston moved to the keyboards where he entered a number of commands. The sound of moving pistons came about the room as a section of the wall opened up to reveal a hidden cabinet.

"It looks like a carbine, it works like a carbine," Winston said as she made towards it, "but it's actually a pulse rifle. She's seen battle a few times, but she's not off worse for wear. You can trust her."

Tracer removed the weapon off the stand and pushed it into her shoulder. She looked down the sight and adjusted the aperture.

Winston smiled approvingly. "That's a good stance. What you see is what you get. Each battery holds a charge to fire twenty-five rounds of energy."

Four little canisters sat by the rifle. She picked one up and loaded it into the weapon, being sure to check the safety first. "Rate of fire?"

"Six-hundred rounds per minute," Winston replied, "this watch point isn't exactly built for the research and development of weapons, so this besides my prototype will be one of the few offensive measures on this facility. None of the engineers here have seen a single day of military training, so it's just you and me, Lena. Are you sure you're up for this?"

She cocked the weapon, put it at her side and gave him a great smile. "You don't have to ask twice, love."

"Okay," he said, looking to the screens once more. "They're past the loading bays now. We have to stop them before they reach the sleeping quarters. Follow me."

As they made through the halls to intercept them, Tracer felt doubt creep into the back of her mind. She was confident that she could hold her own, but what worried her was the fact that she might need to take a life to defend hers. She decided not to linger on that thought and instead focused on studying the weapon she held in her hands.

Winston stopped by one of the doors and pressed his ear against the door. "In here," he whispered. He pulled out a small console from seemingly out of nowhere, pushed a few buttons and peered at the screen. He cursed under his breath. "They took out surveillance. From the sound of their footsteps, they're headed for the south corridor."

The scientist pressed a button on his strange weapon, which started to emit soft sparking noises. Sparks of electricity became apparent between the yellow ridges on the twin plates. "We'll wait a while for them to pass, then ambush them with their backs facing us."

Tracer nodded. She flicked the safety off on her weapon and stacked up by the door.

After a few tense moments, Winston placed his keycard on the reader and very, very slowly opened the door. They crept through as silently as they could, listening to the sound of fading footsteps which led deeper into the facility.

"What do you think they're after?" Tracer said quietly.

"Your guess is as good as mine." He consulted the console again. "Judging by the route they are taking, they'll arrive into the central hub. That's good for us."

Winston made for the west passageway. "Change of plans. There's a platform which overlooks the hub connected to the level above. If we can cut them off there, we'll have the advantage."

The two ran through the halls and up a flight of stairs before they reached an open area, which sure enough, overlooked the hub with four doors adjacent to one another. The platform on which they stood up was supported by enormous iron chains which were bolted down the walls on either side of them. From there, Tracer could see shelves of books and furniture by pillars which supported the room in which light funneled in from a dome of glass directly above them. As they stood catching their breath, they began to hear the footsteps echoing from the door ahead. Tracer and Winston took cover behind the guardrails and hid themselves from sight.

The footsteps were close enough for them to guess what was making them. It was not human. There was the dull chunk of metal on concrete on each footstep, and they sounded heavy and slow.

"Omnics?" asked Tracer, still keeping her voice down.

"Can't be," replied Winston, "there's a transmitter built into the foundation of this place, meant to scramble the internal signals of unauthorized artificial intelligence intrinsic to omnics." He paused, thinking. "No, they must be drones, controlled from somewhere else."

She sighed in relief. It seemed like she wouldn't be taking a life today. Lifted from this burden, she said almost enthusiastically, "so when do we kill them all?"

The ape waited and listened. "Just a while longer. As soon as all of them clear the door." They waited. "Go for the ones closest to the door first. Don't let them retreat. I'll take care of the rest while they scramble for cover. My tesla cannon will need a second to recharge, so keep them suppressed until it's ready once more."

Tracer nodded.

"On three."

She checked the weapon one last time. All she ever fired at were stationary paper targets up to now, but she had faith in herself do be able to do what she needed to.

"One."

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, listening to the footsteps. Sounds like four, she thought, Five?

"Two."

It was hard to believe that just this morning she sat sulking on the shoreline, and now here she was, preparing to engage unidentified hostiles beside a talking animal wielding an electric cannon thing. For better or for worse, she didn't know yet. And didn't have time to think about it.

"Three!"

Tracer stood up and brought her firearm to bear. Honing her sights onto the door they streamed from, she quickly snapped to the one closest to it and pulled the trigger. The weapon kicked into the shoulder as the target fell to the ground in a smoldering heap.

Black drones slightly larger than the build of a man started rushing to the sides of the hub, taking cover behind rails and pillars. Two of them collapsed heavily under the persuasion of Winston's Tesla cannon, bolts of electricity bouncing between them. Another three, seeing what happened, immediately split themselves up and avoided anything remotely conductive as they returned fire in the form of weapons integrated into their arms, the deafening sound of traditional gunfire in contrast to the quieter energy weapon Tracer was using resonating within the room.

In response to this, she dropped back into cover and reloaded as hostile rounds dug into it, shaking the platform.

"Six of them! Three remaining!" yelled Winston over the gunfire.

"I can see that!" replied Tracer as she slammed another battery home and peeked over her cover. The drones were split around them in a cone. Each time they tried to leave cover for one of the doorways, Tracer fired a volley of shots, sending them back. "I got them pinned, Winston!" she shouted, as they blindly returned fire. A stray round grazed her cheek. She stood her ground, feeling hot liquid trail down her face. "Two o'clock! He's making for the exit!"

An arc of high voltage electricity found the drone halfway, effectively halting him in his tracks. "Right ahead of us is out of my range, take care of him!"

"I can't!" she yelled back, focusing her fire on the hostile to their left. "This one really wants us dead!"

Every time Tracer stopped firing at the drone, it would immediately peek out of its cover and return fire at an alarming pace. It stood behind a shelf laden with tomes which her rounds couldn't seem to punch through.

The pulse rifle clicked. "Get down!" she screamed as she dropped back behind the rails, pulling Winston with her. The space where the ape's head was a second ago became filled with a hail of gunfire. Tracer fished out another charge and slammed it into the rifle.

"Well," Winston said, "It looks like we are the ones getting pinned now."

"You're hurt," she breathed, when she saw the crimson oozing from his arm.

He smiled. "So are you." The ape started crawling towards the exit, keeping his head down. "I think it's time we made a tactical retreat. We can ambush them again when they get a little further."

"Guerrilla tactics?"

"I still prefer scientist. I mean, I suppose I am technically a gorilla—but I'd—"

"Winston," she interrupted.

"Yes?"

She paused. "Never mind." She got on her hands and knees and followed him.

A scream of metal. Tracer's world suddenly lurched to the right as the platform gave from under her. She slid across the floor now turned vertical to land heavily on the guardrails. The large figure of Winston followed, but instead of coming to a stop on the guardrails, was sent falling to the level below.

He landed headfirst and was instantly knocked out, the tesla cannon falling beside him.

"Winston!" Tracer screamed, and without thinking, blinked to his side and shook him. "Winston, wake up!"

She could hear the drones advancing. Turning around, she put her entire clip into the torso of the first one. It tumbled to the ground. Her hands shaking, she pulled out the last canister of ammunition she had—which was immediately shot out by the second drone as it came around the collapsed platform. It whirred and fizzed out pathetically in her trembling hand.

Up close, Tracer could make out all the minute details of her assailant. It approached her in a heavy, mechanical step which shook the ground she sat on. It was accented in grey throughout with little and large pipes running in and out of its humanoid body. Its head was a vertical rectangular box which stood on broad metal shoulders with a horizontal red visor at its eye line.

It stopped in front of the girl and pointed its weapon between her eyes. She stared at the weapon, noting its cylindrical shape which encompassed the barrel, with the sights integrated to the side instead of the top. It was very shiny. This isn't such a bad way to die.

Suddenly, the glass dome above them exploded. A shower of shining shrapnel rained onto them, winking in the sunlight. The drone rotated and directed his weapon to the shattered skylight. A white chopper descended down into the room, the noise of the blades overbearing. Books and everything that wasn't nailed down was sent flying from the chopper's downdraft.

As it got lower, a blonde man clad in blue armor came into view. He leaned out of the helicopter and fired what looked like blue rockets which spiraled in the air before it impacted on the drone's weapon-arm before it had a chance to fire.

Another man, in a black shirt, peeked out beside him. His skin was darker with russet hair which fell to the sides of his face under a strange hat which Tracer only seen in movies. He looked at the crippled drone, then to the sky, where the sun sat at its apex in the middle of the dome they crashed through.

"Heh, would you look at the time," he said, pulling out a large silver handgun from the holster on his hip, staring down the mech. "It's high noon."