"You're still playing?"

Hana turns her head sharply towards the source of the whisper, a slightly panicked expression painting itself on her face in the pale light of her phone.

"And you're still not asleep?" She squeaks, her voice barely above a whisper. It's a good thing the surprise squeezed her throat - the last thing the girl needs tonight is for the rest of her teammates to stir awake at her outburst.

The other girl throws her covers back. "I- I gotta go to the bathroom."

To cry again? Hana doesn't say. She learned of the benefits to keeping silent long ago. Besides, there are more pressing issues than a recruit bawling her eyes out in the bathroom at night.

It's only 01:43. Too early, too damn early. She's calculated it, time and time again. Her timing must be immaculate if she's going to have a chance at this. She'll only have a two, maybe three minutes long window. Any longer than that and... well, she doesn't really have a backup plan. There's no point to having one.

She doesn't say another word, choosing to let the younger (officially, even!) girl leave without a word of reassurance. It doesn't matter, anyway. Neither of them will be here in a month - the last to keep crying are the first to go.

The moment she hears the door quietly click after the recruit, she quietly slips out from under her covers. It's too early, but when has a battle ever gone according to a plan? It's better she risks being seen outside, than having to deal with the girl if she returns before 01:50.

The pilot grabs a backpack from under her bunk. It's a touch too light for her liking, but there aren't many possessions that she chose to take - that she can take. Her laptop, her phone, all of her accounts (all of her friends) - it's all trackable - all of her life is, and so must be left behind. The amount of things she can take is pathetically small. A a few sets of clothes she hasn't yet outgrown since she last went shopping for them, along with a spare suit, a few trinkets, and the one electronic device that she was given for this specific occasion.

She'd trade it all for her phone, if only for the playlist she accumulated on the device.

Hana kicks her pyjamas under the bunk once she doffs the set, and with practised ease, slips into the always-ready MEKA suit. A few seconds pass in silence as her hand hovers over her access card, before the girl grimaces and snatches the thing up. She's made the decision weeks ago – perhaps even longer than that, without knowing. She's not going to die without ever making a difference. There are others who'll take her place, always more, and it never makes a difference. Damn good job they do fighting – here's a medal to go with the corpse...

They should've long nuked the fucking Monster and cut their losses. Lets see how it'd adapt to that!

Even the numbers make sense. How many lives were lost because of the Omnic, already? The MEKA could easily tie the Monster down long enough to evacuate most of the population of any coastal city as to avoid too many casualties. She'd even volunteer.

But dying to keep the status quo... there are better ways to spend her life.

She doesn't look at her sleeping teammates as she steps outside of their room. They're tolerable, most of the time, but she can't say they ever really bonded, not like she did with her original squad – none of them ever held it against her that she records their missions. These guys, however? They take it all so seriously, as if it changed whether they'll survive their next engagement or not. They can waste the rest of their lives with a stick up their ass all they want. Hana knows better.

The teen doesn't try being particularly stealthy on her way to the exit. How does one sneak around empty hallways, anyway? It should be fine as long as she doesn't make a ruckus. The poor sap on today camera duty would only notice her if she stepped into the control room – Hana would know. She beat the newest Puzzle Quest three times this year, playing only in the sec-room.

Eun managed a four, before the last engagement – a respectful feat. She fully plans to add the tidbit onto his gravestone if she ever gets the chance to return. He'd bust a gut if he knew.

She stops before the door to the outside. It's still some thirteen minutes before the guard shift. Ugh, she had planned to do this closer to that moment, when the only thing left on the current watchers' minds would be the end of their shift. Alas – somebody had to cry her eyes out in the middle of the night. She'll never get this. It's not like she's pleased to have been drafted, either, but she never cried about it.

Anticipation twirling in her stomach, Hana slowly creaks the door open to take a peek at the outside. There aren't usually any guards patrolling around the MEKA crew living quarters, but going in without any scouting is a mistake she's not made since she first climbed to gold ladder. There should only be a few guards between her and the hangar. Almost strangely few. Then again, nobody ever even tried to steal a MEKA, and the girl can't imagine an outsider sneaking into the base without ticking off at least one of the many sensors around the site, either. Even then, Hana has no idea how much effort it'd take to hack one of the mechs, she certainly couldn't do it.

Good thing she's a pilot, then. She's curious what new security measures will be introduced after tonight.

Not a concern of hers, anymore. There had been desertions before, of course there were. Nobody tried to run with their MEKA, though. It's understandable, really – how is one supposed to remain hidden on the run with a machine like that? She bets her teammates don't usually have access to a GPS signal disruptor, either. Still, the teen isn't sure she could just leave her baby on its own like that, they've been through so much together.

She steps out of the building, into the cool night, still on the lookout for any people. There are some, far away, at the edge of the compound – but they seem to be turned outwards. Which is just as well, getting spotted this early on would be plain embarrassing, in addition to almost certainly ruining her escape. Getting her MEKA relies entirely on her not being pursued when she approaches the guards there, and since all her plans hinge on managing to retrieve it...

She quickens her pace, careful not to actually run, however. She shouldn't be out at this hour, but the guys outside don't know who's on duty tonight. It might buy her a minute or two if they see her just walking, the time they'll take to check on her, instead of immediately calling an alarm after seeing a running pilot in the middle of the night.

Hana heads straight for the spaces in-between buildings which she knows hide no cameras. The girl isn't quite sure whether someone more dutiful than any of her teammates might be manning the feeds. Better safe than sorry. She needs to buy as much time as possible before making her daring escape. There's no point in stealth once she gets into her MEKA, but till then? Well, she can't run an 60km/h like her baby does, she can't even outrun the dogs.

Aaand there it is, the hangar. Around thirty metres of flat ground ahead. One guard by the entrance, another one – no, two - making rounds by the structure's sides. Hana crouches down between the mess-hall and the regular soldiers' sleeping quarters. Long seconds tick by as she looks for a pattern in the guards' routes, counting the time it takes them to come back into her sights. If she gets it right, she'll have some ten or fifteen seconds to deal with the one standing still. Ten seconds take him down, open the hangar, and get to her robot. EZ.

No chance she can cross the distance unseen. Her backpack must look suspicious, too. The soldiers won't attack her on sight, though. Not should they alert anyone without first speaking with her, that's her hope, anyway.

Now to wait the remaining few minutes before she follows through with the plan. How much time has passed? Five or six minutes since she got up? She'll need four to get to the jet and it will only be there for a few minutes after 02:00. She'd best wait five more minutes before she begins. If she arrives at the LZ too early, her tail might catch up. And that'd be game over, she'd been told as much – nobody can see them together. Just as well, it means they don't accept newbies in. You can't pull your weight, you're out.

Hana takes in a calming breath, and starts counting. She really should've bought a watch instead of relying on her phone for keeping track of time. Look at her now, XXI century and she needs to count minutes in her head.

The girl readies her access card before rising to her full height once she ticks the last second off the countdown.

Game face, on.

Her pace steady and sure, and her body brimming with a familiar anticipation, she walks up to the soldier in front of the hangar. The soldiers catch the sight of her right away, but thankfully, don't see the need to approach her – she's already walking up to one of them, he'll handle her. The man in question patiently waits as she's approaching, not quite at ease but not seeming tense either.

She stops at an arms reach away from him, and lets the man open his mouth to ask whatever question he has-

"Jojong-"

-before she strikes out with a kick to his groin, making the guard cough out a pained breath.

Heh. Cheap shot - as valid tactic as any - only salty losers say otherwise. Especially when there's no chance of taking an opponent straight on.

She follows up with a strike to his unprotected chin, the man left momentarily exposed to her attacks. She might not be anywhere near as strong as him, but what strength she has is enough to jolt his head backwards, and the rest of his body along with it as the soldier staggers and slumps to his knees.

Damn, she'd hoped it'd knock him right out, but there's no time to continue, the others will be here in a moment - she only needs a few seconds anyway.

Hana wastes none of those in running up to the small door of the hangar, and swiping her card against the code reader, quickly followed up by the retina scan. A click of a cocked weapon sounds behind her back. Fuck.

The pilot barrels through the door the very moment a bullet pierces her shin, but still manages to slam the door behind her, even as she's falling to her knees.

"Shibal!" Fuck, this hurts! Not the worst she's been through, far from it, but it doesn't mean she likes pain.

She bites down on her teeth as she forces herself off the ground, trying not to put too much strain on her wounded leg. There aren't seconds to spare. She has to get inside her MEKA, and quick. As quick as she can hobble, anyway.

She shakes the backpack off her back to pull the disruptor from it. She hopes it'll work. It'd be kinda funny if it didn't, in the she's so fucked it's funny way. Would that really matter though? If she's caught, they're going to court-martial her and, well, she'd likely be put in a penal company. Fun times, for however long she'd survive there – probably till her first engagement. Penal companies suck.

Hana hangs her bag on her mech's arm just as the door to the hangar swing open once again. Good luck to them. They'll need it if they want to stop her, now.

The girl hastily pulls herself into the MEKA, her leg pulsing painfully with every move. The machine automatically begins the authorization processes once she settles in her spot – a facial recognition program. There used to be a voice recognition password too, once, before it's proven fatal for some of the pilots when it took too long to activate the replacement units on the battlefield.

Hana places the signal disruptor into her drink slot as the machine comes whirring to life. It fits... huh, perfectly. Here's to hoping it works! She really can't do much more than hope for the best at this point. No amount of skill on her part can nullify the GPS tracking and its redundancies. Three, she thinks, but who knows - she read the manual a year ago.

The girl grins when the soldiers, all three of them, finally catch up to her, only to be knocked out of the way along with the other mechs as the pilot slams on the boosters to gain the necessary speed to blast through the door she came through - it's the weakest part of the wall. She pays the gunfire that comes after her no mind, they'd need a rocket launcher to get past her armour, and the most their riffles can do is scratch her paint.

The impact rattles the girl inside the MEKA, making her clench her teeth as the pain in her leg flares up. At least her backpack stayed where she put it, although one of the straps gave. Eh, she always wore it on one shoulder, anyway.

Okay! Now to execute the rest of her plan before-

The sound of the alarm brings the vicious smile back onto Hana's face. Any longer and she'd have thought the guy on the console fell asleep. Pft - what wouldn't she give to see how much shit they'd get into if that actually happened.

The girl directs her MEKA to the route she chose a good week ago. The straightforward one. Zigzagging and evading would only be necessary if there wasn't a transport at the end – in which case she'd be fucked anyhow, so it doesn't matter either way. Oh, the commander's gonna have a stroke once he hears a MEKA has been stolen via a jet. It's one thing to have a pilot desert and make off with a unit. It's another thing entirely to have her work with someone who can afford a ship, and can pull of an undetected landing near a military base.

She can't help but scoff at the sight of the closed gate. Like that's gonna stop her – protocol will be protocol though.

Hana casts a speculating look at the automatic turret over the gate as she's closings the distance. It doesn't lock on her, like she predicted it wouldn't. They'd have to remove her ID from the database, first, and there's no way they could've done it so quickly. The techs might not even know it's her, specifically, that's making the escape. Still, those things have a decent range and pack quite a punch. If it got in a shot at her back... Welp, it'd probably blow right through the back armour, her innards, and then burst out the front. She wouldn't even know what hit her before it all ended.

The girl jerks the controllers back, launching her mech in the air, right by the turret, never minding the small arms fire coming from the soldiers at the post – peashooters, what are they even trying to do, tickle her?

The landing forces a grunt out of the pilot. Urgh, stupid leg. No painkillers for her before this mission – she really should've gotten some, now that she thinks about it. Hana clenches her teeth and soldiers onward, set on ignoring the pain. Is that the right direction? She can't even see the treeline in the dark – screw it. She switches her lights on. It'll give away her position, but it's not like she's escaped the motion sensor's range just yet. That's still two kilometres off, which is also where the turrets range ends.

The LZ is some three kilometres away. That leaves her – she checks the time on the HUD – with ample time to get there before her ride leaves, if it's there at all. Wouldn't it be a joke of the decade if this, all of this, was some very elaborate prank of some shitstain jokester. She'll find out soon enough. Sooner rather than later if this is, indeed, a fraud, and her pursuit can get a clear read on her position. Would they hunt her down, trying to recapture the MEKA, or just send a missile after her and be done with it? Hmm, deserters are usually made an example of, so it'd probably be the former.

She's somewhere in the middle of the barren field when she spots a quickly approaching pair of lights from the corner of her eye. Ah, a patrol. This, she can admit, she'd hoped to avoid. Oh, the heavy-cal guns mounted on the vehicles wouldn't pose much of a problem, but can she afford to waste her time on getting to the jeeps? As it happens, they might already be working on revoking her security clearance – and she'd much rather avoid having to evade the automatic defences. Her baby might get a bit banged up if the patrol gets a few shots in, but that's still leagues away from what that monster of a turret can do to her if it gets a lock on.

Once again, Hana activates the boosters, trying to create as much distance between her and the approaching car as possible. It's not enough to escape the fire completely, and every shot that connects with her armour has the girl scowl when the impacts vibrate in her body. The teen is fairly sure they're leaving dents. She hopes there will be a decent workshop where she's going- she'll have to do the paint-job over after this, and scrub the blood from the cockpit, too. Joy.

The energy core coughs, and eases the thrust a moment after the forest finally comes into the light cast by her mech. The rattle of the bullets finally stops as she pilots the machine in between the trees. She's not quite out of the range of the turret yet, but at least any pursuit will have to be either on foot, or be carried out by the other pilots – who are probably just suiting up right now. Okay, the way is... um, somewhere north-east. She just needs to follow the compass and turn off the lights. The sensors extend a bit into the forest, but by now, it's the lights that would attract the most attention. The night isn't so dark that she would miss the glade, anyway. It should be enough to follow the set course.

It's a bit slow, maneuvering between the trees, and her leg now keeps burning whether she bumps into the trunks or not. The adrenaline must have worn off a bit. What a wonderful first impression she'll make – the limping pilot of a bullet-scarred MEKA. Hmm, maybe that's actually better? Blood always made people take her more seriously.

Wait- is her baby purring louder?

Hana powers the machine down, just for a moment. No, the loud hum is definitely not coming from her. It sounds more like - jets? Shit. Did they get air support already? The nearest airport is fifty kilometres inland, they can't have-

It's not coming from above, where...

The girl starts up her MEKA, again, a beaming smile spreading on her lips.

A short moment later, she emerges onto a moonlit glade from between the trees, to find a loudly humming structure occupying a good portion of the space. Huh, the design – what she can see of it - looks vaguely familiar... Yeah! It looks like the same model the organisation used to use before it was disbanded. Heh, five years old and still a league above what the army is using. The stealth must be, at least, otherwise they'd have been shot down.

She snaps to the side at the flash of blue, guns trained at the-

"Whoa- okay, calm down there love!" English? Oh. Oh shit!

"Joesong haeyo." Wait. "Uh, I mean- sorry."

"Oh, that's fine," the glowing woman replies while curiously peering at her, then back to the tablet in her hand – a photo, Hana's photo visible on it. Right. "We were gettin' a bit anxious, too. Come on, we have to leave. You made good speed but we can't dally for too long."

A flash, and the woman is standing by the ship, leaving Hana staring with a bright, blind spot behind her eyes, something exciting bubbling in her chest. She shakes her head before following inside the now-open ship. There's no mistaking the woman; the glowing device on her chest, strange accent and all. Every kid in the world knows about Tracer and her gaudy crocs! And she just pointed her guns at her! At Tracer! The Tracer!

Hana's thoughts screech to a halt once she steps onto the deck.

"Nice rig, eh?" The pilot turns towards Tracer, the woman looking as if there is something here worth being proud of.

"It's... roomy." Just what the- who the hell designed this thing? Ceilings this high should be criminal on a military vehicle. This thing could fit a freaking tank! Without a way to drive it in or out – is that a basketball set? Who built this?!

"I guess that's one way to put it." Hana turns the mech towards the new voice, belonging to a dark-skinned woman in a suit of blue armour. Wow, her spine hurts just looking at her. "The deck's yours, Tracer. I'll handle things down here."

"Gotcha." The Brit nods at her companion before turning back to the girl. "Good to have you here." The woman is gone before Hana can think to answer, leaving both the knight and the pilot looking at the light trail left in her wake.

"Better get used to it, she does that often." The armoured woman speaks up with a severe expression, before, somehow, straightening up even more, and snapping a curt salute – one that Hana immediately reciprocates from the inside of her machine.

"Welcome to Overwatch, Hana Song."