Chapter 17: "It's always weird stuff."/Back to our regularly scheduled Girly Watch

Hana's thumb presses down on the remote control, the buttons emitting a soft clicking sound as the pointer methodically scrolls through a vast array of multicolored movie posters on the streaming site. The volume is turned up high, and she watches intently as a romantic comedy trailer about some academy plays out. Her own face appears briefly on one of the posters, causing her to cringe. "Jimin... I- Lov-" The scene abruptly cuts off as she switches to another movie, her gaze momentarily lingering on her phone, where a social media feed is swirling with some drama that fails to capture Hana's interest.

Sprawled out comfortably on a large gray raccoon bean bag chair, Hana can feel the oppressive heat from outside seeping in, prompting the AC unit to kick into high gear, its hum filling the room. A long, drawn-out trill dinging echoes through the penthouse, and Hana lets out a groan as she reluctantly rises to her feet. She trudges towards the door, using the back of her hand to wipe away the beads of sweat that have formed on her forehead, leaving a damp mark on her white t-shirt adorned with a small rabbit.

"Who is it?" she calls out in a half-yell, her posture straightening as she pulls the door open to reveal Brian standing on the other side, holding a Tupperware container filled with something that emanates a sweet aroma. "Brian! You didn't text... what are you doing here?" Hana's eyes quickly scan over her own disheveled appearance.

"I-I just wanted to drop these off," Brian stammers, his gaze momentarily drifting down the hallway, a heavy weight seeming to settle on his features. "But I can go if you-" He takes a step back, but Hana reaches out, halting his retreat.

"Wait." Brian turns back towards her, his eyes meeting hers. "You haven't really said anything since you came over last time. Are- are you okay?" She studies his expression as he looks at her, his eyes traveling down quickly towards the ground, and a scowl forms on his face.

"Come in," Hana says, stepping aside to allow him entry. Brian cradles the Tupperware container in his hands as he moves past her, and Hana's eyes linger on it, her curiosity piqued. "Come sit down. I was just looking for something to watch." Brian shifts his weight from one foot to the other, finally settling on the couch, with Hana joining him on the other side of the small sofa, leaving a comfortable distance between them.

A few moments of silence pass before Hana speaks up. "So what's up? You look like a kicked puppy," she jokes, attempting to lighten the mood, but her words fall flat as Brian lets out a sigh.

"Lena came over today, and I think she lied about what happened at the dinner," he confesses, his voice laced with a hint of uncertainty.

Hana's expression shifts, her brows furrowing slightly. "Why's that?"

Brian shakes his head slowly. "I'm not sure. I mean, I can't remember most of the dinner, but recently, things have been coming back to me, and I'm not sure what was real or not because she seemed so sure, and we agreed to be honest with each other about things." He turns to face Hana, a frown etched on his face, his eyes reflecting an odd emotion. "And then, after radio silence and no one else really telling me what happened..." He pauses, letting out a weary sigh. "Other than you, it's like no one really cared about how I felt."

Hana's features soften as she moves closer, patting him reassuringly on the shoulder. "Brian... I think you're being a bit of a little bitch right now," she says, her tone surprisingly comforting despite the blunt words, causing Brian's eyes to dart towards her as his mouth falls open in surprise.

"I don't really get why Lena would lie. She's not really the type," Hana says, her brow furrowing as she considers Brian's words. "But if you're so sure, then I believe that maybe something did happen." She pauses, carefully choosing her next words. "Lena might be ashamed of something and covering it up."

Brian stutters, visibly taken aback by Hana's frank assessment. "B-But how am I a little bitch?"

Hana chides him gently, reaching out to give his arm a light squeeze. "You're being a little bitch because you need to grab the bull by the horns. If something happened to you that they're trying to hide, it's not okay." She holds his gaze steadily. "But you need to confront Lena. Tell her that she needs to tell you the truth because it matters a lot."

Brian's shoulders slump as he shakes his head slowly, a despondent look in his eyes. "I did. Me and her met at this park thing, and she grilled me about talking to everyone and how she didn't want me around if I was some clout chaser or reporter." He falls silent for a moment, the weight of the memory seeming to weigh heavily on him.

Finally, he continues, "And she said that she wanted me to be honest with her and that she'd be honest with me." Brian clenches his jaw, his grip tightening around the Tupperware container as he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "And I promised to be honest with her if she did the same, and so I told her the truth then. And then..." His voice trails off, a flicker of hurt crossing his features. "And then she lied to me."

Hana's expression tightens as she curses under her breath, the frustration evident in her tone. "You can't always trust your friends." She shifts her position, hugging her legs to her chest in a protective stance. Brian's eyes are drawn to her, searching her face for any sign of reassurance or understanding.

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 South Korea 3 Years Ago

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Hana places a small thermos on the coffee table as her co-pilots and various other MEKA pilots gather around in chairs. The low light from the TV in standby mode illuminates the room.

"So what's the deal, Hana? This is cutting into my beauty sleep," Jae-eun asks, the small badge signifying his MEKA pilot name "Casino" monogrammed into his silk pajamas.

"Probably some more bullshit about the null sector attack," Yuna scoffs. She pilots the MEKA named Beast. "We got our butts handed to us last time null sector attacked. It wasn't like the normal Gwishin. We needed Overwatch."

Casino leans forward, resting a hand on his knee. "You heard Captain Myung. No contact means no contact. We had to escort Overwatch out of our airspace after the battle was over. That means we still need to be on alert."

"Yeah, the U.N. still deems them criminals. They're lucky the entire military didn't come down on them and flush them out," Yuna adds with a hint of bitterness.

Hana shakes her head. "How could you say that? They saved our lives. Without their medics' help, we would all have been killed. And null sector would have destroyed Busan."

"I acknowledge that, but orders are orders," Casino interjects. "Now what's going on, Hana? What is this?" He nods toward the thermos, both his and Yuna's eyes drawn to it.

"It's a jammer. I don't want the captain or anyone else hearing this." Hana's tone grows solemn.

Yuna starts, "Hana, the world needs our help. We have to answer the call. We all took an oath to save human lives-"

"We took an oath to protect our country," Hana cuts her off. "We are the only line of defense, and our place is here."

She pauses, studying their reactions before continuing. "And what about the rest of the world? What happens if we protect Korea but the rest of the world falls? What happens when instead of just one ship, there's 20 or 100 flying overhead? If we work with them, we can end the fight for good."

Yuna shakes her head vehemently. "What you're saying is desertion, Hana. You'd be arrested or worse if the captain heard this."

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Hana presses on. "Desertion, treason - none of it will matter if the world ends. We all joined to protect people, so when did it become about protecting our country versus protecting humanity?"

Yuna slams her hands down on the table, her voice rising in frustration. "It's always been about protecting the country! We were all kids when we were taken, Hana, just like you. I couldn't give a damn about the rest of the world burning as long as we protect our home. Who cares? Let everyone else figure it out!"

Casino chimes in, his tone placating. "It isn't right, but she has a point, Hana. The Americans have their super soldier program. The Russians have their Stratago-whatevers. Everyone has their own wars to fight. Our place is here, fighting for our home."

He rises to his feet, signaling an end to the discussion. "I need to sleep for training tomorrow, Hana. Get some rest. Think things over. Me and Yuna will pretend like this never happened."

Casino grabs Yuna, preventing her from further argument, and the two make their way to the barracks.

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The Modern day

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Hana's fist clenched tightly as she continued explaining, her voice thick with emotion. "The next morning, before training, there were twenty guns focused on me." She paused, letting the weight of her words sink in. "Yuna had told the Captain about our conversation, and I would have been sent to a military prison for desertion."

A heavy silence hung in the air, broken only by Hana's measured breaths as she gathered herself to continue. "They found the jammer, and they wanted to replace me. I had asked Overlord earlier to rewrite my MEKA's programming so it wouldn't be accessible from the outside." Her gaze grew distant, as if replaying the events in her mind's eye. "Using my bracelet, I managed to summon it and escape, but..."

She trailed off, her expression clouding over with a mixture of regret and resignation. "I had to fly solo for a few days until I arrived at the recall point in Gibraltar. There, I met up with a few other Overwatch members, and here I am."

Exhaling slowly, Hana turned her attention to Brian, her features softening ever so slightly. "All of us pilots were like family. We all swore oaths to protect humanity and to put saving others above our own lives." Her voice took on a tinge of bitterness. "And then, when we could finally do something that matters, they shirked away and only tried to save themselves."

Brian shifted in his seat, studying the young woman before him. "Hana," he began, hesitating as she turned to face him. "I'm not... great with people stuff. But maybe they were scared."

Hana tilted her head to the side, considering his words. "I would be scared about having to save the world," He admitted after a moment's pause. "I've never been in that situation, so I don't know how it would feel." Her gaze grew pensive. "But if me and you were like family, and then you told me you were going to leave and maybe get yourself killed all by yourself... I don't think I could let you go."

Brian's eyes drifted down to the Tupperware container in his lap, his fingers tracing its contours absently. "During the war, I was so afraid for the people around me," he confessed, his voice low and tinged with a haunted quality. "It felt like at any moment, something terrible would happen, and I'd lose everyone important to me."

He fell silent, the weight of his memories pressing down upon him like a physical burden. When he finally spoke again, his words emerged haltingly, as if each syllable carried a profound significance. "I got... separated from my family once. And I thought they were all dead, and I did things I wasn't proud of to survive. I still have some of the scars to show for it."

Brian's gaze lifted, meeting Hana's with a raw vulnerability that seemed to strip him bare. "I changed because I was so scared that someone I cared about, someone I loved, had been taken away and hurt. And it hurt really, really bad." His grip tightened around the Tupperware, his knuckles whitening. "I think I'm a bad person. Because I think if I were in the same position... I'd rather you be safe. I wouldn't know what I'd do if something happened to you."

A heavy silence fell between them, the weight of Brian's confession hanging in the air like a tangible presence. Finally, he seemed to shake himself from his reverie, offering Hana a rueful smile. "I'm probably just rambling, and I'm maybe looking to much into it but that's what id think."

Hana sighed, her expression softening with understanding. "I think you missed the point."

Brian's brow furrowed, his gaze searching hers. "No, I get the point. You can't trust everyone, and even those you're close to will lie if it's convenient or if they think they're doing what's right." He paused, swallowing hard. "And Hana... I hate it. I hate that people will lie and cheat and steal, and I think that good people shouldn't do those things. I don't know why I'm so affected by Lena lying. It doesn't make any sense."

Leaning against Brian's shoulder, Hana's voice was quiet, almost a whisper. "You think she's a hero."

Brian blinked, taken aback by her observation. "Isn't she?"

A wistful smile played across Hana's lips. "There's a difference between being a hero and being thought of as a hero. People aren't perfect. It's so stupid to try to be perfect."

She nestled closer, her warmth a comforting presence against his side. "Try to focus on what's real, not what you think is real."

Brian looked down at her, confusion furrowing his brow. "What do you mean?"

Hana fell silent for a moment, her features pensive. Then, a soft chuckle escaped her lips, quickly blossoming into a full-fledged giggle. "Brian?"

"Yeah?" he answered, his bewilderment only growing.

"Don't you think it's funny how every time we meet up, we don't actually play games or 'hang out'?" She grinned up at him, her eyes sparkling with mirth. "It's always weird stuff."

Despite himself, Brian cracked a smile, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. "Speaking of..." He reached for the Tupperware, pulling it free from its confines. "I wanted to repay you." "I've been wondering what's in there."

"I baked something for you," Brian admitted, watching as Hana froze, her eyes widening comically.

"You could bake the entire time?" she exclaimed, her voice pitching higher with incredulity.

Brian couldn't help but chuckle at her reaction. "I told you I baked some cookies!"

Hana looked down at the Tupperware, her fingers curling around it as Brian handed it to her. "Is it cookies?" she asked, her tone equal parts hopeful and skeptical.

Shaking his head, Brian offered her a small smile. "I thought that maybe you'd like these. They're more of a celebration thing, but..." He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'd say the fact that neither of us are dead is enough to celebrate."

With trembling fingers, Hana pried open the Tupperware lid, a wisp of condensation escaping as she did so. Her breath caught in her throat as she lifted a single pastry from within, the small, almost perfect fish shape filled with a red paste that emanated an eerily familiar aroma.

"Bungeo-ppang," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion as she cradled the delicate treat.

Brian shifted, suddenly self-conscious. "I didn't know if you liked them or not. If you don't, you can throw them out. I don't mind." He glanced at his wrist, his expression sobering. "I need to be going, actually. I have one more stop to make."

Hana's eyes remained fixed on the bread, her expression unreadable. Brian rose from the couch, making his way towards the door. "It was nice talking, and I'll text you if something else comes up, okay, Han-"

His words were cut short as a hand grabbed the back of his shirt, pulling him back. He stumbled, caught off guard, and felt something warm press against his cheek. Hana's lips lingered there for a heartbeat, two, before retreating, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake.

"Th-thanks," she stuttered, her face flushing crimson.

Brian could only gape at her, his mouth working soundlessly as heat flooded his own cheeks. Before he could muster a response, a fish pastry was suddenly shoved between his lips, effectively silencing him.

"Now go. Shoo!" Hana exclaimed, her voice equal parts flustered and fond as she ushered him towards the door, closing it firmly behind him.

Left alone in the hallway, Brian could only blink in bewilderment, the lingering taste of the bungeo-ppang mingling with the ghost of Hana's affectionate kiss upon his cheek. Confusion and a strange, warm feeling swirled within him, leaving him adrift in a whirlwind of emotions he couldn't quite put a name to.

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THE GIRLY WATCH EXTRA

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"Did I do something wrong?"

The question emerges slowly, each syllable carrying a weight that seems too immense for Hana's young shoulders to bear. Her small voice cuts through the tension blanketing the room like a knife, sharp and piercing. She sits cross-legged on the plush living room carpet, clutching a hard-won trophy in her hands as she gazes up at her father with wide, innocent eyes.

Dongtae freezes mid-stride, his restless pacing coming to an abrupt halt. He turns, almost mechanically, to face his daughter, and a heavy silence descends upon them, thick and oppressive. Long moments stretch into what feels like an eternity before he finally responds, his words emerging slowly, as if being dragged from the depths of his very soul.

"No, no Byeol." The use of her nickname, that affectionate term, feels like a stark juxtaposition against the worry etched deeply into the creases of his face. "General Park wishes for Hana to join..."

His voice trails off, the unfinished statement hanging in the air like a lead weight. Yet the implication is clear enough to rouse Hana's mother from her trance-like state. Seated in an armchair across the room, she had been silent and motionless, her eyes glazed over as if she were worlds away. Now, those eyes widen with a sudden, piercing clarity as she focuses on the present with startling intensity.

"They want her to join part of a new program?" Each word trembles with barely contained emotion, the shrillness of her tone cutting through the stillness like a knife.

Dongtae swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing with the motion. A heavy pause follows, loaded with unspoken dread, before he finally continues. "They want her to get into one of those... death traps, don't they?"

The words seem to catch in his throat, emerging as little more than a hoarse whisper. "They assured the MEKA units have been upgraded and are much safer."

But even as he speaks, the lie rings hollow, unconvincing even to his own ears.

Hana's mother scoffs, her features twisting into a mask of visceral disbelief and fear. "Safer?" She spits the word out like a curse, lacing it with venom. "Dongtae, you remember what happened on TV. When the Colossus arrived, one of the drones got captured and crushed like a toy in its grip."

Her voice rises with each syllable, escalating towards a desperate crescendo as she unleashes the torrent of emotions that had been simmering just beneath the surface. "And you want Hana to get inside one of them?"

The outburst seems to shake Dongtae from his reverie, his shoulders squaring as he whirls to face his wife head-on. "I don't want Hana to be anywhere near it!" His shout reverberates through the room, the raw anguish in his tone causing Hana to flinch instinctively. "But what choice do I have?"

He throws his hands up, palms open in a gesture of exasperation, of utter helplessness. "The mandatory military service is still in effect. Whether she joins now or joins in five years, there's no difference!"

Another silence falls, this one punctuated only by the sound of their ragged breathing as they grapple with the enormity of the situation. Hana shifts uncomfortably, her grip tightening around the trophy as she studies the fear etched into the lines of her parents' faces, suddenly understanding the weight it carries.

"They want me to pilot the MEKA units?" The question slips out before she can stop it, her voice small and uncertain amidst the charged atmosphere. A tremulous pause, then: "Like... like Overwatch?"

The mere mention of the defunct organization seems to drain what little color remained in Dongtae's face. He shakes his head vehemently, crossing the room in two long strides to drop to his knees before his daughter. His large, calloused hands engulf her small shoulders as he looks her squarely in the eye, his gaze intense, bordering on desperate.

"No, Hana." His tone is low, hushed yet carrying an undercurrent of steely conviction that leaves no room for misinterpretation. "This won't be like what you see in the games. This is real."

He holds her gaze, willing her to understand the gravity of his words, to comprehend the harsh reality he is trying to impart. "People get hurt. People die. I don't want that life for you."

Hana's brow furrows as the first flickers of confusion and trepidation spark behind her eyes. She glances down at the trophy cradled in her lap, its once-gleaming surface now dulled, its significance paling in comparison to the weight of her father's confession. "But... what happens to you?"

The question hangs in the air, heavy and loaded, and for a long, agonizing moment, Dongtae can only stare at his daughter, his mouth working soundlessly as he struggles to find the words to answer her. Then, slowly, wordlessly, he pulls her into a tight embrace, holding her trembling form against his chest as the weight of her innocent query threatens to crush him beneath its implications.

The three of them remain that way, frozen in an endless moment, until at last Dongtae stirs. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he releases Hana and rises abruptly to his feet. His movements are stiff and mechanical as resolve hardens his features into a grim mask, a single-minded determination settling over him like a cloak.

"I have some relatives in Shanghai," he declares, the words seeming to drain what little color remained from his wife's face. "We can go stay with them for a while."

She recoils as if struck, her eyes widening in abject horror. "Dongtae, what are you saying?" Her voice is little more than a horrified whisper, laced with a desperate plea for him to reconsider.

But Dongtae is already moving towards the bedroom, reaching for his phone as he begins dialing a number with shaking fingers. He pauses only to utter one more thing, his tone ringing with grim determination.

"As long as I live, my daughter will never see the inside of one of those machines."

With those words lingering in the air like a death knell, he disappears into the bedroom.