Work Text:
The heat of the land pressed down on him as he raced across the rooftops, or what was left of them. The setting sun had created shifting shadows in the remnants of Somalia’s city, the result of the omnic crisis many years before. Flashbacks of the time drifted into his mind, how Overwatch had fought back against the crisis, the world had proclaimed them heroes and they had set out to establish world peace. It seemed their ‘world peace’ had not reached this place. Genji leapt, landing safely amongst the ruins of a house, the contents of its previous inhabitants were littered across the floor, covered in dust. Even beneath his visor, the musty smell of his surroundings reminded him of used ammunition. Turning, he inspected the back wall of what must have been the living room - it was dotted with holes and splattered with a dark ink. Genji looked away, he did not need to examine the wall further to know what happened, instead he turned his attention to the nearby window. Vaulting out, he landed on the ground, his mechanic muscles humming softly with the impact.
He was here for a reason he reminded himself, drawing out a small holopad he checked his location quickly. It had been three weeks since Winston had first recalled Overwatch’s agents. Two weeks ago he was in Hanamura for a much needed talk with his brother - nevermind that the talk had been mostly flying arrows and fancy swordplay. A week later he had rejoined Winston and Tracer only to find that a much needed friend was nowhere to be found. Dr. Angela Ziegler or Mercy as most people liked to call her was Overwatch’s leader in all things medical and his life saver. Thinking back to those days made Genji’s shoulders droop, she had saved his life using state-of-the-art technology and her own sweat and how did he repay her? With harsh words and something akin to a tantrum. Back then his mechanic body had disgusted him - not human but not an omnic either. The conflicting emotions had made him sick and only the prospect of destroying Shimada Clan’s criminal empire had kept him sane. When he wasn’t on missions he was ill-tempered and vented it on whoever was nearest, most of the time it was the Doctor. It had taken weeks for him to calm down - even after his departure from Overwatch and his encounter with the omnic monk Zenyatta, it had taken another few months before he was able to (as Master Zenyatta called it) see the world clearly.
With a sigh, Genji put away the holopad. In a way his current mission was a redemption of sorts, when Winston had asked if anyone wished to track down the Doctor he had instantly volunteered himself. His own motives had been to find Dr. Ziegler and apologise for his past actions but Winston and Tracer’s words back at Gibraltar HQ haunted him. There were dark forces at work, attacks from terrorist organizations have been increasing over the past years led by a man formed from black mist. This man - Reaper, as Winston called him - was powerful and had made a point of hunting former Overwatch agents. Genji clenched his fists tightly, if he found this… ‘Reaper’ anywhere near Dr. Ziegler, he would make sure he payed the price. The only problem was that ever since Overwatch disbanded, the Doctor had slowly lost contact with her former colleagues. When the call went out to recall Overwatch agents the Doctor had remained silent, now Genji was headed to her last known location (courtesy of Athena). He was not far from his destination. Keeping the lights on his body off, Genji crept forward keeping to the lengthening shadows of the ruins.
Loud screeching tore through the air, in a swift motion Genji had reached behind him to grasp the hilt of his wakizashi - Japanese short sword - but something made him pause. Laughter accompanied the screeching. Blinking underneath his visor, he realised this was no battle cry but the high-pitched yelling of children. Moving silently he leaned forward to peer around the corner of the building.
A clearing had been made amongst the ruins of the city, within it three large tents had been set up. Each were a dark olive green adorned with an insignia of a red cross upon a white background, they were temporary hospitals. Children ran around in what space there were before the tents, throwing a brightly colored ball between them. Other people moved around the children’s playground, most of them adults and the elderly. Genji noticed that most sported a bandage somewhere or moved in a way that indicated injuries. Letting go of his blade, he turned to scale the wall of the building he had been hiding behind. Quickly and silently he settled into a shadowy niche within the rubble that allowed him to view all that happened from a vantage point. This time he let his eyes drift slowly over the people before him, not surprisingly many wore torn rags streaked with dust and grime. Others had managed to snag what seemed to be second-hand clothes, their brighter colors carried the same layer of dust that permeated the air. Genji’s eyes stopped at a group of individuals in the far corner of the clearing, he cocked his head slightly - they were omnic. He was surprised he hadn’t noticed them earlier, their metallic skin were dull from layers of dirt and they huddled amongst themselves keeping well away from the humans. Understandable, Genji thought, ever since the Omnic War tensions between human and omnics had skyrocketed. It stands to reason that the two parties would avoid each other…
...or most of the two parties. A human head bobbed in the midst of the omnic group, the blonde hair upon it caught the last rays of the sun blinding him enough to make him blink. Squinting hard, he was able to make out finer details. The human who sat amongst the omnics was a female in her late thirties, she was sat on the ground and hunched over as she worked on the broken arm of an omnic. In one hand she held tweezers and in the other a long metal needle that ended in a plastic handle - a soldering iron he guessed. Her long blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail behind her head while she worked, safety goggles set in a leather band circled her head and protected her eyes. Genji sighed inwardly, he had no doubt that the blue in those eyes would put the sky to shame. Dr. Ziegler had barely changed in the days since he saw her last, still working tirelessly with the sick and injured no matter omnic or human. He debated approaching her right there and then but stopped himself. There was no need to disturb the Doctor while she worked and what’s more - he enjoyed watching her work.
---
Brows furrowed in concentration, Mercy put on the finishing touches to the metallic arm. Turning off the soldering iron, she wiped it off on a wet cloth and blinked at the omnic - Riley. Pulling out a roll of bandage, she wrapped it gently but firmly around the circuits in the arm.
"There!" She smiled. "That should hold everything in until we find you a new arm-plate" she said, patting her work.
"Thank you Doctor" Riley pulled his injured arm from the doctor's lap and held it gingerly. "That was very kind of you..."
"Nonsense!" Mercy interrupted "This is what I do. Now remember to keep the arm away from water and call somebody if you need assistance."
Riley raised his face towards Mercy. Although he did not have to ability to express emotions on his face, she had no trouble guessing. The blue lights arranged on his forehead in a three-dot-triangle glowed gently in what she recognised as gratitude. She had seen this many times on other omnics. Smiling brightly, she stood up and brushed the dust from her clothes. To others, what she wore was so out-of-place in the desert city that most would have stopped to stare. In its heyday her valkyrie suit would have glowed a pearly white, after months of aiding the locals her suit had turned yellow. The wings folded neatly on her back fared no better, drooping slightly under the weight of dust that covered them. Pulling the safety goggles from her head, she replaced it with her usual headdress, a golden headband that circled her head like a halo. Slowly, she made her way out of the group of omnics. Now and then she would bend down to talk to one or pat the shoulder of another. Most humans would have felt her affection for the omnics was misplaced, Mercy herself didn't care. They were sentient beings who lived and cared for all the things that went with living - emotions, family, survival - to her that was enough reason to help.
At the edge of the group a human child waited for her, balancing her staff in his arms rather than let it touch the floor. He was bare feet, the grey, grime-streaked shirt he wore was so big it reached down to his thighs. A bandana circled his head, pulling his black hair back to reveal brown inquisitive eyes.
"Are they going to be alright?" He asked, raising her staff for her to take.
"I think so, Nahim." She sighed inwardly, it had been weeks since the last shipment of medical supplies and they were running dangerously low. Closing her hands around her staff, she lifted it and hugged it to her chest. Without the necessary supplies, the power of her staff had weakened. It pained her to do so but with so many at risk she had reserved the use of her staff to those who desperately needed its power. Noticing Nahim's worried face, she reached down to pat his cheek.
"Everything will be fine," her voice betrayed none of her uneasiness "help me get a can of oil for Tris. Remember, only a palmful in the joints. No less."
Nahim nodded furiously and ran to do her bidding. Returning moments later, with a tin of mechanic oil in his hands. He ran to the omnic Tris and began the task of oiling her joints. Seeing that he had things handled, Mercy moved away - it was time to begin the circuit of her human patients. She had checked half a dozen or so when a harsh voice cut across the clearing.
"Traitor!" The voice belonged to a man in his early twenties, his scowl had twisted his face and his mouth bared yellowy teeth in a snarl. On either side he was flanked by two more men, all wore the same angry expression.
Sighing inwardly, she stood. Standing her staff firmly on the ground, she faced her attacker.
"How can I help you, Asim?" She asked politely.
"How can you consort with those-those...things!" He yelled, pointing at the omnics. "They attacked us, they killed thousands of us-"
"And we have killed just as many of them, if not more." Mercy said calmly, her voice ringing across the clearing. "I will have none of this argument here Asim, I have sworn an oath to help whoever requests aid and I will do my duty. If you do not like it I suggest you leave, you are disturbing my patients."
Asim's brown eyes met her calm blue eyes. Mercy met his stare with her own, her lips pursed in a thin line. Finally Asim half-turned, he brought his hands before him - one hand clasping a clenched fist.
"It looks like we'll have to do this the hard way." He leapt at her. His goons following closely behind.
Mercy hated fighting, hated it with a passion but that did not mean she couldn't protect herself and her patients when it came down to it. Dodging Asim's leap, she knocked his feet from under him with the base of her staff - he went sprawling. Turning quickly, she parried Goon 1's blow and jammed her staff into his ribs, winding him. Hearing dirt scuffling behind her, she deposited her staff under her arm and pushed it backwards, hard. A pained 'oof' rewarded her efforts, releasing her staff she pirouetted around. Her staff came down hard across Goon 2's shoulder blades, her victim stumbled, tripped and landed over Asim who was trying to rise from the ground. Turning once more, she eyed Goon 1, blue eyes flashing. Goon 1 raised his empty hands in self-defence and backed off - he had had enough.
Mercy knelt, her hands grasped Asim's chin and pulled it forward. Asim's eyes were no longer filled with confidence, instead he hesitantly (and fearfully) met Mercy's gaze.
"A little advice," she whispered, voice dripping with honey "don't start a fight you can't finish."
Standing, she nodded. Several of her assistants detached themselves from patients and hauled Asim and his goons to their feet. With the ease of long practise, they briskly sat the three men down in the shade of the tents and proceeded to see to their bruises. A loud cheer from the omnic group caught her attention. Her gaze caught the eyes of the cheering Nahim and silenced him. He sat down hard, trying to hide behind Tris and the other omnics. Mercy noticed several hands reach out to pat the young boy in comfort.
She sighed. Wiping the dirt off the tip of her staff, she turned to one of her assistants who hung back with the watching spectators.
"Can you handle things here Daniel?" She asked, rubbing her forehead "I need um...some-"
"R and R?" Daniel inquired. A smile was plastered to his face, teeth flashing against his chocolate coloured skin. "Go ahead, I'll keep things locked down here." He patted her on the shoulder and returned to tending the patients.
Silently thanking his back, she stretched. Her valkyrie wings responded, long rays of gold burst forth from their sheaths. As if born to the skies, she leapt upwards. Her wings caught the heat of the land, propelling her further into the sky. For a moment, she hovered finding her bearings. Finally she turned and flew in a South Westerly direction.
---
From the ground, Genji had watched everything unfold. He had leapt from his place when Asim voiced his accusations against Dr. Ziegler. Hands grasping angrily for the swords at his back. He had watched, dumbfounded as Dr. Ziegler not only took down the three men by herself, she then proceeded to put them back in their place without so much as breaking a sweat. He puzzled where this new face of the Doctor came from but forced the thoughts from his head. Quickly, he followed the flying form disappearing into the South West. It seems Dr. Ziegler had her mind somewhere else, Genji had no problem following from the rooftops without so much as a backwards glance from her. For ten minutes she flew, keeping to her course. Finally her wings bent, he recognised that shape - she was landing. The rooftops had given way to fully crumbled ruins, thanking the sun who was now set behind faraway peaks, Genji crept forward. In the growing darkness, he would not have to worry too much about hiding places.
Spotting Dr. Ziegler in a small clearing he hung back. Her head moved from side to side as she looked for something, one hand on her hip while the other framed her chin - her staff tucked firmly in the crook of an arm. Finally she spotted what she was looking for, and disappeared between two large slabs of rock. Genji lunged forward. Reaching the two slabs he noticed a path that curved through the ruins, seeing Dr. Ziegler further down the path he sighed - he thought he had lost her.
Quick as a flash, Dr. Ziegler's head whipped around. And found nothing. She paused, eyes squinting in the darkness. Finally she turned and continued down the path.
Genji, chest heaving, lifted himself from a ditch where he had thrown himself. 'That women has sharp ears!' He thought. Wiping the dust out of metal muscles, he continued his pursuit, quietly. For sometime he followed, eyes tracing the form of Dr. Ziegler amongst the ruins. He hoped she wouldn't have to go much further. The night had mostly set in, the darkness was offset by the full moon and stars but even then - it wouldn't take much for anyone to sprain their ankles on the uneven ground.
A small form darted for the doctor, chirping a greeting. A yellow bird landed on the doctor's shoulder, a stream of bird-chatter flooded from its beak. Dr. Ziegler's form shook in what Genji assumed to be a giggle. Gently, the doctor lifted the little bird from her shoulder and deposited it on a nearby ruin. Squinting against the darkness, he noticed a nest of twigs sat upon a rusted metal box. Gingerly, he let go of his katana and retreated under the shadows of a nearby pillar. Dr. Ziegler had produced a bun from the folds of her suit. With gentle hands she broke apart the bread for the bird. The bird bent to nibble at the bread crumbs, so intent on the food it did not mind that Dr. Ziegler had settled nearby to watch it eat.
In the moonlight, Genji examined Dr. Ziegler's face. To say she had not changed in the past years was a partial lie. At this distance the moonlight highlighted the bags under her eyes and worry lines that framed her eyes and mouth. Had she ever looked this tired? He wondered. He thought back to the days of Overwatch, back then the doctor had been the picture of health. An image came unbidden into his mind. Dr. Ziegler, blonde hair flowing behind her, rushed down the corridor of Gibraltar's medical sector. Her brows were creased in a frown as she took one of his arms, the other was supported by Jack Morrison - Commander of Overwatch. Dimly, he remembered Jack explaining to the Doctor how Genji had brashly taken on twelve of Shimada Clan's elite soldiers. He remembered her scolding...sort of. Dainty finger too close to his face for comfort, she had yelled at him for two hours after tending his wounds. Her ivory skin glowed he remembered, blue eyes the colour of the sky flashed before him. He swore there were lightning in them.
Returning to the present, he examined the Doctor once more. Her skin was ashen under the layers of dust that seemed to cover everything. Her eyes, now focused on the chattery bird (which had finished his meal of bread crumbs) were tired, no light shone within. Genji fidgeted uncomfortably, he did not like this change he saw. Why didn't her assistants say anything? Didn't they know she was sick? Maybe they did, he pondered, they just didn't want to say anything. Another memory floated into his head, of Jack Morrison carrying Dr. Ziegler in his arms. She had broken her leg during a Valkyrie-flight-test-gone-wrong. Despite being injured, she struggled like a captive kitten in the older man's arms. Her past voice rang clearly in his head: Put me down this instant Jack! If anyone saw me like this they would think I was dying! Her assistants must have a weary respect of her he decided.
Giggles brought his attention back to the Doctor. The little yellow bird had tried unsuccessfully to feed Dr. Ziegler one of its bread crumbs. Chirping angrily, it tried again with the same results. Flapping its wings indignantly, it kicked the offending bread crumb off its pedestal. The doctor lost herself in another fit of giggles. Genji smiled under his visor. It was hard to remember she was sick when she laughed like the younger woman he used to know. Finally, the doctor stood and shook out her suit. Chatter-bird (as Genji was now calling it) chirped a question.
"I'll be back again tomorrow with more food," she promised.
Spreading her own wings, she took to the air heading in the direction of the hospital. Genji detached himself from the shadows and followed from the ground. He had missed his chance to speak with her but no matter. He would find another more opportune moment - between all her patients, assistants and Chatter-bird.
The air was quickly cooling. The Northern winds brought with them a fresh load of sand and dust that soon covered his metal frame. Not that he minded. His eyes were busy tracing the shadow of Dr. Ziegler's form amongst the ruins. They soon re-entered the area of empty houses. Jumping lightly onto the roof, Genji easily kept pace with the winged form high above. His eyes wandered while he ran, returning to Dr. Ziegler's shadow as it drifted across the rooftops. Except this time something was different. Genji narrowed his eyes, trying to get a better look. The shadow did not resemble the doctor's winged form. Instead it twisted, curling in on itself, a boiling mass that pulsed like...like a black mist.
Snapping his head up, he tried to shout a warning to the Doctor. Too late did he notice the red dot that hung on Dr. Ziegler's right wing...
---
The snap of a bullet being released from its shell reached her ears even before it hit. The metal pellet tore through her right wing, shearing it in two. Mercy pinwheeled through the air. Fighting for control, her left wing beat hard, trying to compensate for the missing right wing. The weight was too much for one wing. She dropped from the sky. The ground grew to fill her view. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed a boiling black mass, a white mask hovered within, watching her - like an owl watched its prey.
She crashed.
The first thing she noticed when she woke was the dull ache in her right arm. Blinking slowly, she tried to take stock of her body. Legs? She felt as if she had been cut in a thousand places but her legs moved. Spine? Well she could feel her legs, so no it wasn't broken - thank goodness. Arms? Left arm was sore, right-
Pain lanced up her arm like a lightning bolt, gathering in her head. Her scream ended in a muffled yelp, she had bitten through her bottom lip. The taste of blood filled her mouth, she swallowed hard. For a few moments she lay there, breathing through her nose, trying to regain some semblance of calm. Finally using her own head as a support, she moved into a kneeling position on the ground. Hugging her broken arm to her chest, she slowly raised her head. Her surroundings whirled around her. Breathing heavily, she shut her eyes and willed her vision to clear. Seconds passed as she fought down her growing panic and nausea. Finally she opened her eyes and surveyed her crash site. She had landed in what seemed to be a store room of sorts, its occupants long gone from the omnic war. Shelves mounted on the walls still carried their bounty, an overturned wheelbarrow sat abandoned in the far corner. Inspecting her surroundings a second time, she frowned deeply. Where was her staff?
"Looking for this?"
Mercy snapped her head back to the wheelbarrow in the corner. Perched on it was the black mass she saw before her crash. Only this time it was no mass, it was a man. Clad from head-to-toe in black, with a hood pulled over a bone mask - he was a terrifying creature. Looking closely, her eyes widened at the twin shotguns that hung on his belt.
"Don't worry about those," the man muttered, voice hissing. He had seen her scrutinising his prized weapons. The black slits in his mask - eyes - watched her closely. In one clawed hand, he twirled her staff.
"What do you want?" She asked. Her voice shook, she swallowed. 'Now was not the time to be weak!' Mercy chided herself. Gathering her legs beneath her, she sat in a kneeling position, back straight and blue eyes fixed defiantly at this horror of a man.
The man, stopped twirling her staff. His black slits met her blue eyes. He chuckled softly, the laugh slowly building in volume until it echoed around the room. Without warning he dropped her staff and lunged forward. Clawed hands closed around her throat and raised her up high. Mercy struggled, kicking him in his chest, his arms, his neck. Where she should have made contact, she struck air. Black mist swirled at the places she had kicked.
"What do I want!?" He roared. He shook her hard. Pain shot up her broken arm, she gasped. She pulled at the hands closed around her neck with her good hand. "You should know what I want!" He continued, voice loud in her ears.
"Don't know. What. You me-" He never let her finish. Transferring her body to a single hand, he had thrown her out of the store room into the street. She rolled, tumbling to a stop a few feet away. She gasped, trying to bring air to starved lungs. Her right arm had stopped hurting, instead it hung at an odd angle in two places. 'Shock' she realised 'I'm going into shock.' Quickly, she scrambled to her feet and tried to run. She had to move and move quick, if she could reach her staff back in the store ro-
A blast echoed through the street. Unbearable heat pressed on her left leg, the man had blasted a shotgun hole a feet from her.
"Don't try to run from me, Mercy." He snarled her nickname. Coming up behind her, he closed his hand around her throat, claws tapping lightly against her skin. His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper "I can find you, wherever you choose to hide. You never were good at Hide and Seek, Angie."
Mercy blinked, no one had called her Angie in a long time. Before she could ponder what it meant, the clawed hand closed painfully tight. It seemed determined to squeeze the life from her. She had to try her luck, uttering a quick prayer. She pulled her good hand from the folds of her valkyrie suit and pushed it into where he hoped the man's face was. Darkness forced their way into her vision just as she pulled the trigger.
The hand dropped from her neck. The masked man drew back howling. Clutching her blaster in her left hand, she levelled it at her attacker. 'That will teach him never to underestimate healers!' She thought savagely as she gulped in mouthfuls of air.
"How dare you. HOW DAR-" The masked man pulled his hands from his face, reaching for his guns. Mid-motion he stopped. Mercy's face had gone white under the layer of dust that covered her face. Reaching up swiftly, the man touched skin where his bone mask should have been. His left eye, revealed now by the hole in his mask shrunk to pin-pricks.
"That's not....possible." Mercy began. Her hands were shaking so hard the blaster fell through fingers gone limp.
The man's good eye narrowed.
"I didn't want to do this you know" He muttered, raising his shotgun to her face. Mercy didn't even have the strength to shiver, surely this was the end of the line for her...
"The Dragon becomes me!"
---
Genji dropped from the roof. His katana glowed a bright green, around him circled a great dragon of the same greenish light. Its great snake body flexed, stretching for Reaper. He brought the katana down and in, curving upwards to strike his enemy's middle. The dragon opened its maws, eager to taste flesh. Instead its jaws snapped shut around air.
Reduced to a black mist, Reaper pulsed... And disappeared. Clutching his katana with both hands, he took a guard stance.
"Behind you!" Mercy's voice cut through the air.
Swiftly, he drew the katana across his face, deflecting the shotgun blast into a nearby wall. Safe for the moment from further blasts, he brought his sword skills into play. The two men were reduced to fighting close-combat. Genji struck again and again. To his frustration his blade bit into more air than flesh. For the few times he did hit anything, Reaper blocked his blows with his shotguns. Angry for the few times ever since he was enlightened, he drew his sword in a wide sweeping arc hoping to cleave the other man in two. Reaper leapt back, dropping out of range of his sword.
His body hummed, mechanic muscles straining. Grimacing under his visor, he sheathed his katana. The great dragon vanishing just as suddenly as it appeared. Pistons on his shoulder plates rose from their usual places, expelling hot steam. He had strained his body in the use of his ultimate. It would take awhile for him to return to his former state. A gentle hand rested on his shoulder. Dr. Ziegler's. He had not heard her approach. It worried him that she had stayed so close to the fighting. Instead of voicing his unease, he laid his free hand on hers. His other hand clutched the wakizashi that hung at his waist. His body may be overheated but that did not mean he wouldn't try to protect them both.
Reaper watched them, black hood drawn further over his face to hide the hole in his mask. His clawed hands grasped each shotgun tightly. He had asked not to be disturbed. He had asked that...woman, to keep busybodies - like Genji - away from here. He grated his teeth under his mask. Cocking his head slightly, he leaned into the earpiece that was fixed in place before he left for tonight's mission. Static.
"She's not coming."
Genji met hidden black eyes, his own visor glowed a bright green.
"Your sniper friend," he continued "perhaps you should pay more attention to your friends."
The green of his visor flashed. Reaper remained unfazed. So, Genji had dealt with Widowmaker before he arrived. No wonder he was late. Cracking his neck, he glided forward on a bed of black seething fog.
Something about the black fog made Genji take a step back. Gently pulling Dr. Ziegler with him. She came willingly, only the sweat of her palm in his hand revealed her nerves. Together they took one, two, three, steps back as Reaper advanced. Realising what was about to happen, he yelled:
"Run!"
They managed a few steps away before Reaper unleashed a flurry of bullets. Promising to apologise later, Genji roughly pulled Dr. Ziegler to him. Shielding her with his own metal body.
"Die. Die. Die. Die. Die."
The words echoed in his head, bullets punched through the metal plating on his back. He didn't know if he screamed. The pain that raced to his head built up quickly, gathering in the form of a bright light that pulsed at the back of his head.
---
"Genji!" Mercy shook the limp body in her arms.
Forcing her good hand to work, she undid the clasps that held Genji's visor in place. Throwing it to one side, she examined his face. Scarred and battered, only the small breaths that escaped his nose indicated that he was alive, barely. She needed to stabilise him and then get him back to the hospital. Or she needed her staff. Pulling him closer, she made an attempt to move him closer to the store room. The clicking of shotgun barrels made her stop. Reaper stood between her and salvation. He raised his gun, aimed squarely at the unconscious Genji's chest.
"Come quietly," He ordered "and I'll spare him"
Mercy bit her lip, forgetting her earlier wound.Fresh blood flooded her mouth. She was hurt, tired and now...all she wanted was to get Genji somewhere safe so that he could be stabilised. Squeezing her eyes tight, she did the first thing that came into her head.
She gave an ear-splitting whistle.
---
He drifted. The white light that had pulsed at the back of his head had now reached forward to fill most of the space within him. It pushed, determined to engulf the rest of him. Genji watched, surely he could do nothing...
A loud, very shrill whistle knocked him from his reverie. Pushing the white light away, he swam towards the noise. Blinking his eyes open, he realised he lay in the doctor's arms.
"D-Dr. Ziegler?" He murmured.
Barely an inch away, Reaper had his shotgun to Dr. Ziegler's head. Genji's eyes widened, he tried to move, anything. His arms and legs refused to cooperate.
"What did you do!?" Reaper was yelling. The Doctor didn't even flinch, she met his black slitted eyes with her own blue ones.
A string of chirps caught his attention, Chatter-bird darted into his field of view. Dr. Ziegler had called the bird? What good could a little bird do? That bird would be no match for Reaper, surely she realised that.
Chatter-bird fluttered overhead, yellow wings flapping hard. Genji was right, a little bird couldn't do anything. But its companion could.
---
The first cannonball blasted a hole in the store room before reaching Reaper. Even as fast as he reacted, he was unable to fully dissipate. The cannonball clipped his hand, sending his shotgun flying.
"Duh duh de DUHH!"
A second blast ripped through the store room, a tank - albeit a small tank - stood in the hole. Grass and dandelion flapping as it moved, the tank scuttled out from the store room. Tank barrel tracing Reaper as he moved, the little tank spat out three more blasts in quick succession. The last one clipping the cape of the black ghost. Having enough, Reaper folded in on himself, black mist pulsing.
He disappeared, materialising on a nearby roof where the tank could not reach. He eyed Mercy intently. Despite herself the doctor shivered. The tank whistled angrily - raising its gun barrel, it let loose one final blast.
The blast never hit, passing through a quickly fading mist. Moments later the sound of engines revving reached her ears. A sky-ranger was taking flight somewhere. Reaper was most likely on board.
---
Genji had watched in awe as the tank chased his adversary as a cat would chase a fleeing mouse. Only when the tank had forced Reaper to the roof did he remember the names of such fearsome machines.
Pulling himself onto his elbows, he reached behind him for his wakizashi. If he acted fast, the Bastion-unit would not know what hit it. A hand came down on his, pressing gently. Looking up into the doctor's eyes, he sighed and let go of his blade. Laying back down on the ground, he noticed that the Bastion-unit had reconfigured his shape. On one shoulder, it balanced a bird's nest. Slowly it inched forward until it leaned over Genji. Tilting its head to the side as it inspected the injured cyborg, Bastion produced a series of whistles each ending in a lilt - a question.
"He'll be fine," Dr. Ziegler replied. She had disappeared into the store room. Reappearing with her staff in her good hand, she knelt over Genji. Brows furrowed in concentration.
"Doct-" He began.
"Not another word," She snapped "the injured should know when to keep quiet and be treated!'
"But your ar-"
"I said shut-it!"
Tears fell from sky-blue eyes. Impatiently, she wiped them away.
"Why do men always think violence solves everything!?" She yelled "C-Can't you just s-sit down and talk things out??"
Sobs and hiccups wracked her chest. She wiped the tears away to no avail, they were streaming down her face like miniature waterfalls. Hesitantly, Genji reached up to wipe them away.
"I'm sorry, Doctor." He said "I'm sorry for making you worry. I'm sorry."
The doctor sniffed once more. Rubbing her button nose on her sleeve, she looked around. Bastion had retreated into the corner, reconfiguring itself into a metal box to better hide from the doctor's wrath. Chatter-bird (actually Ganymede) perched on Bastion's shoulder, it cocked its head and chirped. Turning back to the injured Genji she placed her good hand on his uncovered face.
"I'm sorry I yelled," she whispered "I...it's good to see you, Genji."
"Likewise, Dr. Ziegler." He replied, leaning into her palm.
Stifling a sob, she leaned forward and uttered three words.
"Heroes never die."