"Am I not merciful?"

- Commodus, Gladiator

An overbearing cloud of diesel exhaust and heavy sedative gas spewed from the Python's underbelly vents. The winged white figure pinned between the Python's anti-personnel hooks and the ground instantly became motionless.

"Enemy Medic disabled. Commencing surgical strike," D. Va chirped into her mic. She grabbed a gunmetal box labeled FIRST RAID 101 from the rack beside her and twisted her glove around the lever for the cockpit ejection hatch.

Field repairs—as the Omnics labeled them—were never easy on the organic end of the procedure, and this was going to be the first one D. Va ever performed in the middle of live combat area. Targeting and securing a prospective patient could be handled by the Python, but the process of mentally rewiring a biologic inbound was a more hands-on affair. Luckily for D. Va, her Omnic augmentations turned her into something approaching a MEKA pilot, a medic, and a hacker all rolled into one package.

The rabbit hopped on the white queen's back and popped open her tool case. Mercy was flopped stomach-down underneath the Python's chassis and D. Va had no problem perking herself up on the fallen angel's cushiony lower back. She rummaged through her travel box, grabbed a medical saw in one fist and an industrial welding torch in the other, and greedily dove into the operation.

Gaining access into the back of Mercy's skull casing wasn't much different from slicing a plasma cannon through a blast door, only on a more delicate scale. A power saw whirred, and there was a high-pitched crunch. Flames flew from a torch, and roast beef sizzled. D. Va's gloved fingers disappeared deep in the cranial cavity and did something unimaginable that caused wet squishing and squeaking sounds. The patient's limbs twitched on impulse every few seconds as the assault on her nervous system sent her neurons scrambling.

"Yuck, Mercy. You're so gross," D. Va cackled.

The MEKA pilot hummed the basic notes of the Donkey Kong theme cheerfully to herself while she worked. She was being scored on how long she could keep the patient alive as a senseless meat-drone. Mercy's neurons were a little more touchy and fidgety than any of the living test dummies she had trained on, but she still felt pretty confident with how things were shaping up. Even if Mercy got back up, racked up some kills under D. Va's orders, and ended up falling over dead in eight minutes from an intense brain aneurysm, she'd still be an important biology lesson.

D. Va only hated how there was an element of luck involved with the neural hijacking. The Omnics insisted all of their sterilized instruments be saved for maintaining top-quality products (i.e. D. Va herself), so who knows how many different families of nasty germs and infections she was introducing into Mercy's sensitive brain tissue with the randomized box of tools she was using today.

D. Va completed her devious tinkerings in almost record time. She notched the back of Mercy's head together with a glue gun and latched all of the accessories to the crime back into her tool case.

"Mods are in," D. Va successfully announced into her headset. "Let's get these funbags booted up."

D. Va climbed off of Mercy's back and nimbly bunny-flipped back into the Python's open cockpit tray. She sealed the canopy in front of her and slammed the red button for "RESTART." Electrical pulses crackled through the wire hooks still fastened around Mercy's arms and legs.

The first burst caused her body to jolt violently against the ground. The second burst caused her to quiver. The third burst finally woke her up. The restraints unhooked and the Python backed up on its two legs to give her room to recover.

Mercy slowly climbed to her feet and looked around. The way she moved was robotic, soulless, and oddly peaceful. The Omnics' protocols for swapping a person's alignment quickly, brutally, and mid-engagement weren't exactly designed for preserving their original personality.

"Hey, feather duster," D. Va's voice boomed from the Python's megaphone behind her.

"Hmph?" Mercy mechanically turned her head toward D. Va's windshield.

"New gear," D. Va announced bluntly.

A compartment near the Python's shoulder jet whisked open and launched a new combat staff toward Mercy. She caught it in her hands with perfect timing and held it closer to inspect it. It was a fission rod that would spread lethal radiation poisoning on anyone caught in its rays. It had a secondary function for repairing and reinforcing broken down machines.

Dr. Ziegler couldn't wait to test her equipment on living specimens.

"Let's hop to it," D. Va said over the Python's speakers. "We're going to have to speedrun this one before your brain juices go bad."

Mercy opened her wings. D. Va pushed her jet thrusters to max power. The artillery pilot and the healer charged back into battle, working together as a diabolically cohesive team.