Chapter 20: Pale Imitation.

Royal leans back into the chair at the end of the cocoa brown desk. His hands wrap around a light-colored file, flipping through pieces of paper. An old analogue clock on the wall ticks away the moments. His eyes lock onto the photos of the actual design for Caduceus.

He holds up a page from the file. "Miss Ziegler, is this what you'll be submitting for circulation?" he asks, looking up. The blonde woman at the end of the table seems to be scanning every inch of his face with an almost glazed-over expression.

Royal's eyes return to the page, then glance towards the clock. 1:10. The meeting was supposed to start at 1pm. He checks his phone. Zero messages.

Placing the folder flat on the desk, he brings his other hand up, rubbing his forehead. "I don't mean to assume, but you were a former Overwatch member, weren't you?" Royal asks Angela.

She gives a subtle nod, her eyes losing that glassy shine. "Ah, yes, I was - still am, but I mainly focus on the research of medical technology."

Royal hums, his face stone-like. He sighs. "You wouldn't happen to have the number of the liaison, would you?"

Angela nods, palming her phone and looking it over. "I told them to be here early for the meeting, but unfortunately..." She trails off. "I don't seem to have any messages."

A subtle shiver runs through Royal as the room seems to grow slightly colder.

A knock at the door draws the eyes of both Royal and Angela. Royal raises an eyebrow, glancing towards the glass window next to the boardroom door. A familiar head of hair comes into view.

"Speak of the devil and he shall appear," Royal mutters under his breath.

Angela's eyes dart towards Royal questioningly.

Royal stands up, wiping his lap down and flattening the wrinkles in his clothes. He moves to the door, pulling it open.

Royal opens the door, revealing Lena Oxton. She's wearing a white long-sleeve button-up with charcoal grey trousers and a black tie, hastily done. Her typically wild hair remains messy and free.

Her eyes lock onto Royal's, and he notices a subtle look of fear cross her features. She tries to speak but stutters, looking like she's seen a ghost. Her gaze darts around his taller form, fixing on something past him.

"Arriving late is unprofessional," Royal says, his words laced with venom. He steps back, shooting a look at the receptionist, who shirks away.

Closing the door behind him, Royal addresses Lena, who's now seated and sitting straight up. "Mrs. Oxton, I assume you're aware of the purpose of this meeting?"

"Only Miss Oxton," Lena corrects quickly.

Royal's eyebrow arches. He makes a clicking noise with his tongue and sits at the end of the table. "And yes, I know that P.C.E.R is working on the production and shipping of Caduceus tech."

Royal nods. "Unfortunately, Joseph Bergstrom, who was supposed to be overseeing this, ran into some flight delays. I'll be overseeing the meeting, and my assistant will handle communications between us and the U.N. about the peacekeeping initiative."

He raises a hand towards a camera on the wall. "Yan Bai Hu, patch the call to the U.N. to the screens. The liaisons have arrived."

Soon, the Vishkar loading screen appears on the wall, turning and spinning. Blocks of windows begin to clear, revealing blurry camera views of a U.N. council.

Angela's hand is wrapped around a pen, her fingers cracking its thin black enamel. Her eyes are glassy, zoned out completely. A brief sensation against her leg, tapping frequently, pulls her attention.

Everything seems different. Her eyes move before her head does, darting upward to look towards Lena. The other woman looks just as offset, seeming to seek support from Angela.

Angela shakes her head subtly. Her gaze shifts to focus on Royal, who stares forward impassively as the call to the UN connects.

/-Sometime later-/

The call disconnects. Lena's eyes remain fixed on Royal, who ignores the intensity of her gaze. He collects his things, waving to the camera and gathering the Caduceus photos into a folder. Sliding it across the table, he states robotically, "It was nice doing business with you both. I hope this is the beginning of a fruitful business relationship."

Royal stands and moves past them. Lena whispers something to Angela before following Royal into the hall. He strides towards the elevator, his face calm and neutral, belying the magnitude of the deal he's just negotiated.

Pushing the elevator button, Royal rubs the soreness from his neck. "Royal, wait up!" Lena calls. He exhales, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

Inside the elevator, Royal turns to Lena with a stern glare. She flinches, seeming childlike despite her age. "What is it? I'm busy," he asks brusquely.

Lena, slightly breathless, collects herself. "I wanted to ask you... when it came down to a vote, you were the decider. Why did you side with me?"

Royal's eyes narrow as Lena continues, "Given what happened and your suspicions about me, you could have easily held a grudge and blocked it. So why didn't you?"

"You think I hold some sort of grudge?" Royal scoffs.

Lena counters, "Don't you? You made it clear you don't trust me, so why side with me, especially when you could have easily blocked it just to spite me?"

Royal rubs his temples, eyes focused on her. "It isn't about trust, Miss Oxton. Caduceus is useful. It would save lives and has potential. My personal feelings have nothing to do with the decision."

Lena frowns, scanning his face. "But after everything, why wouldn't you want to see me fail?"

Royal sighs, "I can separate personal and professional. I'm not going to lie to you - if you've done anything to my son or have anything planned, I'm going to make it my problem and solve it. But other than that, the point of life is getting over whatever bullshit you have going on in order to do the right thing for others. Regardless of how it makes you feel."

The elevator stops. Royal exits, then turns back to Lena. "Something's been bothering me since the meeting." He watches her back straighten, her feet shifting as if ready to move. "I see the way you stare at me. Flinch whenever I move. Who did you kill that I look like?"

/-/

Angela stares vacantly at the back of her driver's seat, clutching a file. Her fingertips are red and stinging from rubbing the material.

The car door opens, letting in a stream of light. A hand lands on Angela's shoulder, gently shaking her.

"Angela?" Lena's voice is soft, comforting, despite her own visible unease. "Hey Angie, it's me... it's Lena. I'm here with you."

Angela freezes, her eyes darting to Lena's. There's a darkness in them that Lena's never seen before.

"L-Lena?" Angela asks shakily.

Lena nods. "It's me, Angie. We're in the car now."

Angela takes a long, shaky breath. "I'm sorry, I- should've-"

Lena squeezes her hand. "It's alright. You're doing okay. The meeting went well, so don't worry. Everything's fine."

Angela tries to steady her breathing, staring at her hands with a thousand-yard stare. A faint smile curves her lip. "He just... looks so much like Morrison. I-... It brought back everything."

Lena frowns, her own hands shaking slightly in her lap. Her eyes dart away as she recalls Royal's question:

"Who did you kill that I look like?"

/-/

The cliff face trembles as Brian's back slams against it. The impact reverberates up his spine, each vertebra a tuning fork of pain. His teeth chatter, the taste of adrenaline metallic on his tongue. Glancing up, he sees the health bar hovering in his peripheral vision – only a quarter remains.

In his right hand, Brian clutches a massive longsword. Its blade gleams, a mesmerizing pattern of silver and gold that seems almost alive in the virtual light. His left arm strains under the weight of a towering white shield, its face adorned with two elegant golden arcs that catch and reflect every flicker of movement.

The air around him suddenly shifts. It's subtle at first – a whisper, a disturbance in the digital air. Then, in a heartbeat, it erupts into chaos. A deafening burst of gunfire shatters the silence. Brian's muscles tense instinctively as he raises his shield. Two rounds slam into the barrier with earth-shaking force. The impact travels through the shield, up his arm, rattling his bones and setting his nerves ablaze.

As the echoes of gunfire fade, the threat materializes. A whirlwind of crimson rose petals, beautiful yet deadly, whips past him. They coalesce into a form both graceful and lethal – Hana, her scythe a blur of red, black, and white. The massive blade comes down with crushing force, missing Brian by mere inches. It bites deep into the concrete, sending spiderwebs of cracks racing outward.

Brian doesn't hesitate. He raises his heater shield once more, this time channeling a different kind of power. The shield's surface ripples and pulses with waves of deep purple energy. As Hana closes in for another strike, the energy surges outward. It catches her mid-leap, her eyes widening in surprise as the force hurls her backward.

She twists in the air, a testament to her agility, and lands with feline grace several feet away. Her chest heaves with exertion, each breath a cloud in the cool air.

"You're really going all out, aren't you?" Brian asks, his voice a mix of admiration and challenge.

Hana's eyes narrow, a predatory glint in their depths. "You wanted me to go all out before," she says between breaths. "I think you're ready."

Her hand moves to a brace on the scythe's handle. Brian's muscles coil, ready to spring. He's seen this move before, but knowing what's coming doesn't make it any less terrifying.

A gout of flame erupts from the back of the scythe, transforming the elegant weapon into a makeshift rocket. Hana launches forward, the ground beneath her feet cracking from the sheer force of her acceleration. She becomes a blur of pink, blue, and red – a deadly comet hurtling towards Brian.

Time seems to slow. Brian raises his shield, bracing for impact. Hana whirls in midair, her scythe describing a perfect arc. The clash when it meets Brian's shield is thunderous. Sparks fly, and the air itself seems to ripple from the collision.

The force drives Brian back, his feet leaving furrows in the ground. But he's not out yet. In one fluid motion, he sweeps his shield aside and thrusts with his sword. The blade cuts through the air with a whistle, aimed straight for Hana's midsection.

But she's already gone.

In a burst of rose petals, Hana vanishes. Brian's sword meets nothing but air. His eyes dart around, searching for his opponent. A whisper of movement above catches his attention.

There she is, perched impossibly on the flat of his extended blade. Her form is crouched, compact, with one eye pressed against the scope of her transformed weapon. The scythe is now a sleek, high-caliber sniper rifle, its barrel pointed directly at Brian's head.

"Gotcha," Hana says, her voice tinged with triumph.

The world explodes into sound and fury. The rifle's report is deafening, the muzzle flash momentarily turning night to day. Smoke billows out, obscuring Brian from view.

Hana lands lightly on the ground, her rifle morphing back into the war scythe. She peers into the smoke, waiting for it to clear, anticipation building in her chest.

Suddenly, a pulse of purple energy dispels the smoke like a gust of wind. As it clears, Brian steps forward, seemingly unharmed. His shield, now back in its scabbard form, hangs at his belt.

Hana's jaw drops. "How'd you dodge that!" she exclaims, disbelief evident in her voice.

Brian's face swirls with white-gold energy, a testament to his activated ability. With a casual motion, he spits something onto the ground – the bullet, flattened and smoking.

"Bit the bullet," he says with a roguish grin, unable to resist the pun.

Hana shakes her head, a mix of frustration and grudging respect in her eyes. "You're insane," she mutters.

Brian pulls up his menu, the translucent interface glowing softly in the air before him. "You're moving quick," he says, scrolling through options. "I think I'm going to change my loadout. You mind?"

As Hana catches her breath, Brian takes a moment to really look at her. She's using her official vtuber account, and the outfit is pure anime fantasy come to life. The blue bunny suit hugs her form, its surface catching and reflecting light in mesmerizing patterns. Pink and black highlights add depth and contrast, drawing the eye along sleek lines. Black stockings disappear beneath the suit, adding an air of mystery. Atop her head, bubblegum pink bunny ears twitch and move with surprising realism.

Her eyes, unnaturally large and expressive, narrow as she catches him staring. "Simp," she accuses, though there's a hint of amusement in her tone.

Brian rolls his eyes, shaking his head. "A bit too short to be looking down on me, aren't you?" he retorts, unable to resist the jab at her diminutive avatar.

In response, Hana raises her weapon and fires another round. It pings harmlessly off Brian's chestplate, but the message is clear.

"You attack me because it's the truth," Brian quips, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. His finger hovers over an old notification in his menu: "From: Lyudmila. As my biggest fan, I figured you should try this."

Brian's eyes roam over the new costume and weapon sent to him. The cyborg ninja outfit, complete with a long, sharp blade glowing scarlet, catches his attention immediately. He examines the dark black suit, thinking it looks a bit edgy, but intriguing nonetheless.

"You mind if I experiment a bit?" he asks, glancing at Hana.

She waves him off impatiently. "Hurry up!"

"Alright!" Brian grins, activating the new loadout.

Hexagonal blue textures begin to envelop Brian's entire body, growing over him like digital moss. The transformation is mesmerizing, each hexagon pulsing with energy as it spreads. Finally, when he's perfectly covered, the hexagons burst into nothingness, revealing his new form.

Where Brian once stood, a sleek cyborg warrior now takes his place. His blonde hair has turned a striking silvery hue, contrasting sharply with the solid metal jaw that now defines his lower face. In his hand, the crimson sword pulses with barely contained energy.

"Let's try this out," Brian murmurs, his voice carrying a slight metallic edge.

He turns to Hana, noticing her unfocused stare. Her eyes seem to glaze over as she slips into a battle stance, clearly thrown off by his dramatic transformation.

Brian switches into his own battle stance, legs parted, holding the scarlet blade to the side of his head in a classic ninja pose. A visor slides down over his face, and suddenly a burst of information appears before his eyes.

"Lyudmila must have spent weeks designing this," he whispers, marveling at the complexity of the interface.

An outline of Hana appears in his vision, highlighting weak points and predicting movement patterns. Brian swings the sword out, his foot catching on the black heel of Hana's boot. She pivots, kicking back against his arm, which he braces with his new armor.

In a flash, Hana bursts into rose petals. Brian, guided by his new interface, jumps into the air, slashing through the mass of petals. The cloud splits in half, surrounding him in a storm of flowers.

Acting on instinct, Brian presses a button on the blade. A Japanese Kanji appears, glowing in the air, and suddenly the storm of petals freezes in place. Hana floats in midair, her eyes wide with shock.

"What the hell!" she exclaims, her voice oddly distorted in the time-frozen bubble.

"Guess this was supposed to freeze time?" Brian wonders aloud, swinging towards her. He watches as a massive chunk of HP is taken from her health bar, drawing Hana into the red to match his own depleted health.

The time-freeze effect wears off, and Brian notices a red zap of electricity cutting over the blade and spreading up his body. "Ripper mode is ready," flashes across his visor.

Without hesitation, Brian presses the button again. His entire body engulfs in red lightning, muscles feeling like they're filled with electric, burning lava. The power is intoxicating, almost overwhelming.

Hana, recovering from the time freeze, charges towards him. She raises her blade, spinning it down in a deadly arc. Brian parries each slice, returning with an equal flurry of strikes. They jump from place to place, a deadly dance of blades, each testing to see whose guard will break first.

Suddenly, Hana aims the back of her scythe towards him. A massive flaming round shoots over Brian's shoulder, the recoil launching Hana backwards. Brian raises his blade as a wave of bullets flies towards him. They ding heavily off the blade, the spray of fire deflected by his lightning-quick movements.

Moving forward with inhuman speed, Brian slides on the ground. A blade juts out from his heel, piercing one of Hana's rabbit ears and pinning it to a nearby tree. He raises his sword, and a massive blood-red dragon appears on the blade, its ethereal form coiling around the weapon.

Time seems to slow as Brian swings down on Hana. His eyes widen as he realizes the full extent of his attack. The sword embeds itself deep into the wood of the tree, missing Hana by mere millimeters.

A window pops up, replacing Hana's frozen form: "Hana Song has exited the Match."

Brian pulls the VR headset from his face, the gold and black Vihskar device cool against his fingers. He places it carefully on the couch, the soft thud barely audible over the muffled sounds coming from inside Hana's penthouse.

He rises slowly, each movement deliberate. His eyes scan the room, landing on Hana's desk. A knocked-over glass of water catches his attention, its contents slowly seeping into the plush carpet. The growing stain feels ominous, a silent harbinger of something amiss.

The open door to Hana's room draws his gaze. Brian hesitates, torn between respecting her privacy and concern for his friend. The sound of movement from within makes the decision for him.

He approaches cautiously, each step measured. As he nears the doorway, his eyes are drawn to the closed bathroom door. A shadow moves behind it, breaking the light that spills from beneath. The soft sound of running water reaches his ears.

Brian's hand hovers over the doorknob, uncertainty etched on his face. "Hana?" he calls softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

The shadow behind the door freezes. The silence that follows is deafening, broken only by the steady drip of the faucet.

Slowly, Brian turns the knob. The door creaks open, the sound unnaturally loud in the tense atmosphere.

"Hana?" he repeats, peering into the dimly lit bathroom.

A blur of motion is his only warning. Something - someone - lunges at him. Brian's body reacts on instinct, muscle memory from years of training taking over. He catches the attacker's arm, using their momentum to pin them to the ground.

As they fall, time seems to slow. Brian raises his fist, ready to strike, but stops abruptly. His knuckles hover mere inches from Hana's face, her brown eyes wide with a mix of fear and something else - something raw and vulnerable.

Recognition dawns, and Brian scrambles backward. His back hits the wall, and he slides down, his breath coming in short gasps. The adrenaline coursing through his veins makes his fingers tingle as they dig into the carpet.

"I'm sorry, I-" he starts, but the words die in his throat as he takes in Hana's state.

She hasn't moved from where she fell. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, each breath a silent struggle. Slowly, her hands rise from the ground, trembling slightly as they cover her face.

The silence stretches between them, heavy and oppressive. Brian watches, helpless, as Hana's shoulders begin to shake. Soft, muffled sobs escape from behind her hands.

"H-Hana," Brian begins, his voice rough. He swallows hard, trying to find the right words. "What-"

He falls silent as Hana chokes back a sob. She sits up slowly, her movements stiff and uncertain. The back of her knuckles rub at her eyes, but it does little to hide the redness or the tears that continue to fall.

"Sorry," Hana says, her voice unnaturally bright. The contrast between her tone and her tear-stained face is jarring.

"I just- something came over me," Hana says, her voice straining for nonchalance. "It doesn't matter. Don't worry about it."

Brian sees through the facade. Her puffy red eyes betray the truth behind her words. He rises to his feet slowly, his voice soft but firm. "It matters."

"Whatever it is, you can tell me. I u-"

"Bullshit!"

Hana whirls around, her finger jabbing the air between them. The sudden outburst makes Brian flinch.

"Bullshit!" she repeats, her voice trembling with emotion. "You know how many people say 'I get it. I understand. You're not alone.' But guess what? They don't!"

She spreads her arms wide, her next words tumbling out in a rush. "Who the hell even are you? You talk all about the war, saying you lost people, saying you did things. The scars, the anecdotes, the fact that you know everyone - who even are you?"

Hana's hand moves to her head, rubbing her face as if trying to erase the pain etched there. "Listen. I'm feeling sick. Maybe it would be best if you-"

Before she can finish, Brian moves forward. His hands raise, not in surrender, but in determination. In a swift motion, he pins Hana, his arms on either side of her. The sudden proximity makes the air between them electric with tension.

"It's been a shitty fucking week, Hana," Brian says, his voice low and intense. "But I'm sick of this. Sick of people lying, sick of people pretending like they're so special and strong because they had problems."

Hana scowls, her hand pressing against his chest. She tries to shove him away, but Brian doesn't budge. The physical struggle mirrors their emotional one.

"You told me that when it came to Lena, if someone was lying, to grab the bull by the horns and confront them," Brian continues, his eyes locked on hers. "Maybe it's because I think of you as a hero. Maybe it's because I think of you as a friend. But I can't stand seeing you all torn up and not being able to do anything!"

Brian's words hang in the air between them. He watches as Hana's face begins to change, the anger in her eyes giving way to something more vulnerable.

"I don't want to be a hero," Hana whispers, her voice barely audible.

Brian's shoulders relax slightly at her admission. The tension in the room shifts, no longer confrontational but heavy with unspoken truths.

"It's stupid," Hana continues, her gaze dropping. "But the ninja thing... it just reminded me too much of something."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Brian asks gently, giving her an out if she needs it.

Hana's reply is quiet but firm. "No."

"Do you need to?"

There's a pause before Hana responds, "Probably."

Brian brings his hands down, stepping back to give Hana some space. He runs a hand through his hair, sighing. "I... I'll tell you about what happened to me if you tell me what happened in there," he offers, a peace offering of vulnerability.

Hana seems to bristle at the suggestion. Her eyes drift to his shirt, lingering on the spot where the giant slashing scar laid. When he speaks again, his voice is soft, almost resigned.

"You've already seen it. And I know you have questions."

+++++++++++++++++++++++

FRANCE A LONG TIME AGO

+++++++++++++++++++++++

Hana flies alongside the carrier, her MEKA cutting through the frigid air. Her HUD flickers with life signs of the strike team inside: Genji, Kiriko, and Hanzo, all strapped in and ready for action. She engages altitude and cruise control with the press of a button, wiping condensation from her face shield.

"Having fun out there?" Kiriko's voice crackles through the comms.

Hana scowls, her breath fogging up her visor. "Yeah, come out here and see. It's a-mei-zing." The pun falls flat as her HUD displays the harsh reality: "30 degrees Fahrenheit."

As the MEKA's heater kicks in, Hana grumbles, "An entire fabrication plant in Gibraltar and no one can make me a winter plug suit?"

"Like you would wear it," Genji quips.

"You're able to wear clothes over yours. Whenever I wear mine, I look like a yeti," Hana retorts, her voice a mix of frustration and amusement.

Hanzo's gruff voice cuts through the banter. "Focus is imperative to complete this mission."

"What's got you so sour, top knot?" Hana prods.

"The mission was supposed to be stealthy. It's best to keep the airwaves clear." With that, Hanzo cuts his comms.

Kiriko sighs heavily. "He's a bit anxious. Usually, he has this whole pre-fight ritual thing he does with incense and sake, but since this was kind of impromptu, I think he thinks it's bad luck."

A soft thud echoes through the comms, followed by Kiriko's yelp, "Hanzo!"

"What's going on?" Hana asks, concern creeping into her voice.

"He bonked me with his bow," Kiriko replies, sounding more annoyed than hurt.

Hana laughs, the tension momentarily broken. "Can't you like, instantly heal or something?"

"It's a more emotional pain," Genji chimes in, barely containing his own laughter.

Suddenly, a flash of red on Hana's HUD snaps her back to high alert. Her eyes dart around, scanning the gaps in the clouds that cut through the dark mist like oceans parting before a ship. Two orange lights flare in the distance, and a glowing orb hurtles towards the carrier.

"Contact! 9 o'clock!" Hana veers left, her defense matrix activating as she lands atop the small aircraft. Her targeting computer locks onto the familiar emblem. "Talon!"

A missile breaches the mist. Hana's defense matrix springs to life, disintegrating the projectile before it can detonate. A second missile veers around, its fins adjusting its trajectory. Hana turns to face it, her matrix ready.

Without warning, a jet roars overhead, a string of gunfire pinging off the hull, leaving deep gashes in the metal armor plating.

"Yeogi doum-i pil-yohaeyo!" Hana yells, her Korean plea for help echoing through the comms. The sound of slashing metal beneath her adds to the chaos, but she remains focused on the jets now strafing their position.

"Genji, can-" Hana starts, but an arrow suddenly streaks past her, exploding into the darkness with a digital shriek and a blinding orb of light. Red outlines of the jets materialize in the clouds.

"Hanzo?" Hana asks incredulously.

The archer nocks another arrow. "Focus!" he shouts, loosing it into the night sky. The arrow bursts apart mid-flight, its fragments ripping into another incoming missile, causing a spectacular explosion.

"The sky is the domain of the dragon," Hanzo declares, a rare hint of pride in his voice.

Genji appears beside his brother, drawing his blade. Its green glow illuminates the determination on his face as he points towards the other jet.

Hana unleashes a swarm of micro-missiles towards one of the enemy aircraft. "Hana, go out and play offense. Me and Hanzo will remain here," Genji commands.

In a flash of light, Kiriko materializes on the hull. "I can get us to a break in the cloud line. You boys keep them busy, sound good?"

The Shimada brothers nod, standing back-to-back, ready for battle.

Kiriko's eyes begin to glow as she brings her hands together. A massive gate of blue light tears open the sky before her, stretching out to infinity. The craft picks up speed, rocking Hana in her MEKA as they hurtle towards a break in the clouds.

The night air whips against Hana's mech as she launches into the inky sky. Her heart pounds in her chest, adrenaline surging through her veins. Suddenly, the quiet is shattered by a rapid staccato of pings – machine gun rounds ricocheting off her armor. Each impact sends a vibration through the cockpit, a reminder of the danger she's flying into.

Hana grits her teeth, her hands tightening on the controls. With a swift motion, she whips the mech around, its servos whining with the sudden movement. Her eyes dart across the holographic display, searching for the threat. There – a blip on the radar. She raises her defense matrix, a shimmering wall of energy materializing before her.

A crack of lightning illuminates the sky, briefly outlining the sleek silhouette of a jet. Hana watches, mesmerized, as it performs a graceful barrel roll, engines roaring as it turns to face her. For a split second, pilot and mech pilot lock eyes across the battlefield.

The moment shatters as the jet unleashes a slew of missiles. They streak towards Hana, leaving trails of smoke in their wake. Time seems to slow as Hana's training kicks in. She raises her defense matrix again, watching with bated breath as the energy levels on her display drop rapidly. The missiles hit the matrix one by one, each impact a brilliant flash of light and heat.

As the last missile approaches, Hana realizes her matrix won't hold. Thinking quickly, she fires off a burst of micromissiles. They race towards the incoming threat, and Hana holds her breath. The projectiles collide in midair, resulting in a chain reaction of explosions. The night sky lights up like a miniature sun, the shockwave rattling Hana's mech.

Through the fading glare, Hana spots the jet. It's vulnerable now, its missile barrage spent. This is her chance. She pushes her thrusters to maximum, feeling the g-forces press her back into her seat as she charges forward.

The distance closes rapidly. Hana can make out every detail of the jet now – its streamlined fuselage, the glow of its engines. With a resounding crash of metal on metal, her mech slams into the aircraft. The impact jolts through her body, but she maintains her grip on the controls.

Hana unloads her machine guns, the mech's arms vibrating with the constant fire. She watches in a mix of awe and horror as the jet's metal skin is slowly ripped apart. Chunks of wing and cockpit go flying off towards the distant earth, leaving trails of smoke and sparks in their wake.

After what feels like an eternity, the jet's cockpit opens. Hana catches a glimpse of the pilot's face – a mixture of fear and resignation – before they eject, vanishing into the roiling storm clouds above.

As the adrenaline of the dogfight begins to fade, Hana turns her attention back to the ship. Her eyes widen as she sees the gate, now glowing with an otherworldly light. Great plumes of black smoke begin to overtake the vessel, moving with an unnatural purpose.

Hana speeds towards the ship, her mind racing. What new threat is this? As she nears the smoke, she attempts to scan it, but her instruments begin to error, screens flickering with static and warning messages.

With a screech of metal on metal, Hana lands her mech on the craft, skidding across the surface before coming to a stop. Through her viewport, she spots Genji standing near the tail end of the ship. His sword is drawn, gleaming in the intermittent lightning, but his stance betrays confusion as he stares into the roiling dark storm.

"Genji, what's going on?" Hana calls out, her voice tight with tension.

Before Genji can respond, he whirls towards his brother. "Hanzo!" he shouts, his voice carrying even over the howling wind. "Sore wa akumada! Sore ni mukatte doragon o hassha!"

Hanzo, his long hair whipping in the gale, lowers his bow. "That's nonsense!" he retorts, skepticism clear in his voice. "It is just a storm!"

Genji raises his blade, its edge catching the light. "Trust me!" he yells, conviction resonating in every syllable.

What happens next makes Hana question her own eyes. The venting ports on Genji's cybernetic body begin to burst forth with gas, forming swirling patterns in the air. A great dragon, ethereal and glowing, materializes around him. Its roar drowns out even the thunder, as green lightning arcs through the sky, seeming to meld with Genji's blade.

Not to be outdone, Hanzo kneels, drawing his bow with practiced precision. Hana hears him chant, the words lost to the wind but their power palpable. Suddenly, azure blue dragons rise from the man's skin like living tattoos, flowing around the arrow in a mesmerizing helix.

Hanzo releases the arrow, and it bursts into blinding light. The dragons flow outward, growing to a size that dwarfs the ship. Hana watches, awestruck, as they swirl and roar into the night, their scales shimmering with otherworldly power.

In a display of superhuman agility, Genji leaps into the air. His blade moves in a complex pattern, somehow catching the essence of the dragons. With a shout lost to the chaos, he launches them towards the black storm.

The collision is cataclysmic. Dragons of light and energy slam into the dark miasma. A great, unearthly screaming fills the air, sending chills down Hana's spine. She watches, transfixed, as the dragons tear through the blackness, dissipating the unnatural clouds and revealing clear sky behind.

As the echoes of the supernatural battle fade, Hana's combat instincts suddenly flare. A red blip appears on her HUD, directly behind her. She whips around, her mech responding instantly to her commands, guns at the ready.

Her eyes lock onto a figure she hadn't noticed before – a man in a great black coat, his face hidden behind a white mask. Time seems to slow as Hana registers the gun in his hand, already raised and aimed.

Before she can shout a warning, before she can bring her weapons to bear, the man pulls the trigger. The gunshot cracks through the air, grotesquely mundane after the mythical battle they've just witnessed.

Hana watches in horror as Kiriko, standing just beyond her field of fire, jerks from the impact. The young woman's eyes widen in shock.

As Kiriko begins to fall, Hana finds herself frozen the taste of ozone and gunpowder bitter on her tongue.

Hana rubs her face with her hand, her eyes puffy and pink. She clutches her legs to her chest, leaning back against the headboard of her bed. With a shaky sigh, she tilts her head back and closes her eyes.

"There was some more but..." Hana's voice trails off, thick with emotion. "Kiriko was a friend to me. She was important and because I wasn't paying attention, she... she didn't make it." The words hang heavy in the air, laden with unspoken grief.

Brian sits at the foot of the bed, his eyes fixed on a spot on the floor. He seems to be wrestling with his thoughts, trying to find the right words. "I- I'm sorry," he finally manages, his voice soft and uncertain.

Hana sighs, her face buried in her knees. "Don't be. It had nothing to do with you." Her voice is muffled, but the pain in it is clear.

Brian shakes his head, his hand inching towards hers. He fights the urge to grab it, unsure if the gesture would be welcome. To his surprise, Hana reaches out, placing her hand on his and giving it a small squeeze.

"I haven't really told anyone about this," Hana confesses, her voice barely above a whisper. "I mean, when Kiriko died, people asked about it. I saw a counselor, but it didn't really help. I mean, everyone goes through this sort of thing differently, but..." She trails off, letting the silence stretch between them.

Suddenly, Hana's demeanor shifts. A forced smile appears on her face, the corners of her eyes crinkling with the effort. "It's fine," she says, her voice artificially cheery. "I mean, everyone's gotta have something, right? Even the perfect D.Va has got to have something." The facade is painfully obvious, a stark contrast to her earlier vulnerability.

Brian frowns, discomfort clear on his face. "Stop that," he says, his voice gentle but firm. He looks away, one hand rubbing the back of his neck while the other rests on his knee. "You remember when I told you I didn't want you to hold back?" He pauses, gathering his courage. "I didn't just mean in video games. I- I wanted you to not hold anything back. I hate people who hide things, and I don't want to be just another person seeing a persona, you know?"

He looks back at her, his eyes earnest. "I mean, I'm a big fan, but I don't want you to have to pretend to be some invincible hero who doesn't have problems just because they think they shouldn't have them." A small, hesitant smile crosses his face. "You told me that I need to stop thinking about people as heroes. And I met you, and I didn't know who you were at first. I met you as Hana Song. Then I found out you were this really cool VTuber that also fought bad guys in a multibillion-dollar mecha. But at the end of the day, I don't care about all that."

Brian raises his hands, his words coming faster now, driven by a need to make Hana understand. "I mean, I do. What happened was bad, and there's no denying that. But I'm not friends with D.Va or the hero Hana Song. I'm just friends with Hana." He smiles, hope shining in his eyes as he waits for her reaction.

The room falls silent, the air heavy with unspoken emotions. Hana's facade begins to crumble, her forced smile faltering as Brian's words sink in. She looks at him, really looks at him, seeing past her own expectations and fears. In his awkward, earnest attempt to connect, she sees something rare and precious – acceptance of her whole self, flaws and all.

Hana's lips quiver, her eyes welling up with tears she's been holding back for far too long. She opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out. Instead, she leans forward, wrapping her arms around Brian in a tight hug. Her body shakes with silent sobs as she finally allows herself to grieve, to be vulnerable, to be simply Hana.

"You can't ever tell anyone," Hana says, her voice muffled against Brian's shirt as she continues to cry into it.

"I won't. You're my friend, Hana," Brian reassures her, his voice soft and sincere.

As Hana continues crying, Brian tries to ignore the rising heat in his cheeks, acutely aware of her closeness. His eyes dart around the room, scanning the plushies and game figurines on shelves and desks, desperately trying not to stare at Hana as she breaks down.

"You're the king of the simps," Hana suddenly says, her voice thick with tears but tinged with amusement.

Brian arches an eyebrow, confused. "What?"

Hana looks up, her eyes puffy but with a smile that seems genuine. Brian can't help but think it's cute. "You have a girl in your arms and all you can do is look at anime figurines."

Brian looks shocked. "I didn't think you'd want me to really look at you."

Hana rises, sitting next to him. She uses her hand to wipe a tear from her cheek, a lazy grin spreading across her face. "You're so lame," she says, but there's affection in her tone.

Brian gives a small laugh, relieved to see her mood lifting.

"Brian, I... I trust you," Hana continues, her voice growing serious. "Even if we haven't really hung out normally, even if we only really meet when bad stuff happens, you're the first real friend I've had in years."

Brian almost asks about Overwatch but thinks better of it. Instead, he simply asks, "Really?"

Hana sighs, her gaze wandering around the room. "Yup. I bought this place thinking I'd have roommates. Friends. Sleepovers. But it's been a while, and none of that's happened." Her voice holds a wistful note. "But then there's you. You show up with your pizza boy hat and old blue hoodie, and now you're watching me cry. It sounds like a crappy manhwa."

She stretches out over the bed, getting more comfortable. Brian watches her, a mix of emotions playing across his face.

"I could... come over more often if you wouldn't mind it," Brian says quietly, his voice hesitant.

"Why would I mind?" Hana asks, genuinely curious.

"Isn't it a bit awkward to have someone ask to come over all the time?"

"Only if I didn't like you."

Brian's cheeks go pink as he tries to decipher the meaning of 'like'. Hana notices his reaction and smirks.

"You're a good guy, Brian. Don't get all weird and wussy on me. I've seen you without a shirt, and you don't look like a wimp."

Brian's face flushes a deeper shade of red. "Speaking of which," Hana turns to look at him, a mischievous glint in her eye, "you owe me a story."

Brian tenses up. "I don't remember that," he says, looking away.

Hana curses in Korean, her frustration evident. "You can't give me all that stuff about lying and hiding stuff then play dumb about this. It's... hypocritical!" she exclaims.

Brian turns towards her, his expression a mix of embarrassment and defiance. "What about all that stuff about caring about more than looking like a hero? I thought you were amazing even at the gas station when you wore a mask and talked to me about drinks."

Hana's cheeks turn rosy. "I guess it was kinda hypocritical, but still!" She gets up, and Brian can't help but look her over. The pink shorts and white crop top she wears make him a bit tense. "You owe me a story."

"Couldn't we get dinner first?" he asks, trying to change the subject.

Hana glances at the clock. "Hm. Let's get takeout."

Brian searches for excuses. "What about if it's over at like 3 AM and I have to drive home in the middle of the night?"

Hana looks at him, raising an eyebrow. "You'll spend the night, dummy."

Brian squeezes his hands in his lap, his nervousness evident. "I've never slept over at a girl's house."

Hana rubs her temples, muttering under her breath in Korean, "Hananim, i salam-i balo naega seontaeghan salam-ibnida." She takes a deep breath, then says, "We can just go all night in VR if you're down."

Brian visibly perks up. "You mean Moonlighting?" he asks, excitement replacing his nervousness.

Hana nods.

"I've never done that with someone before." leaning down, Hana flicks him on the forehead. "Then I guess I'll be your first," she says with a taunting smirk. She turns around, pulling her phone from her pocket. "I'm ordering takeout. I'll be right back!" she calls over her shoulder as she slips out of the bedroom.

As the door closes behind Hana, Brian lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He looks around the room, taking in the details of Hana's personal space, a mix of excitement and nervousness coursing through him

+++++++++++++++++

4th of July Party Omake

+++++++++++++++++

The tent buzzes with activity as the women prepare for the holiday celebration.

"This is stupid!" Hana yells, clutching a towel to her chest.

Angela peeks out from behind a curtain. "When in Rome, do as the Romans do," she says before disappearing again.

Amelie steps out, looking like a swimsuit model in her American flag print bikini. "It isn't the most revealing thing," she says quietly.

Hana's eyes dart over Amelie. "Yeah, but you're used to being risqué. You used to be a model! I used to wear hoodies in summer!"

Amelie tilts her head. "It was a personal request. I don't see the point of it. It's not anything different than a costume party." She examines her outfit. "It is a bit odd how they seem to be so customized."

Angela emerges in a straw sunhat, star-shaped sunglasses, and a knee-length dress with a thigh-high slit adorned with the same same stars and striped pattern "I like it. It shows that care went into it, and frankly, that's half the gift in itself."

Hana looks down at her costume - a striped bikini with a crop top jacket, red and blue with a large white star on the back. "This is ridiculous."

"It's a holiday," Angela corrects, taking Hana's towel.

Lena enters, wearing an American flag shirt crop top above a blue and white monokini and silver mirrored aviators. "Food's gonna be ready soon!" she announces.

Angela turns to Hana. "Come on, Hana. It's a party. Have some courage."

"Lena's wearing an actual shirt and swim suit!" Hana protests.

"It's tied up to look like a bikini," Amelie states.

Hana runs a hand through her hair, not noticing the silent agreement between Amelie and Angela. Suddenly, she's tackled to the ground.

Brian stands at the grill, flipping a burger and adding a slice of cheese. He glances over to see Peter building a sandcastle with Mei, an older woman with her hair done up in a large needle-like pin. Brian notes the odd scent of brimstone around her.

"Hey!" Lena's voice calls out. Brian turns to see her leading the group, with Amelie and Angela holding Hana up by the arms. The shorter woman's legs dangle, unable to reach the ground as she tries to escape.

"4th of July time!" Lena yells in her British accent.

Brian feels an odd sense of satisfaction. In his mind's eye, he imagines himself wearing Roman soldier armor and a crown. "I did it, My emperor, George Washington. I did it," he thinks to himself, shedding an imaginary tear.

He looks out to the sunset where the figures of Julius Caesar and George Washington appear on the horizon, smiling and giving him a thumbs up.

Back in reality, Lena, Angela, and Amelie pull Brian in for a group hug. All the while, Hana continues screaming in Korean.