Chapter Thirty-One: A Decision

                                    

                                          
Your heart pounds in your chest as you survey your surroundings. Frantically, you pull your radio out of your pocket. You go to turn it on— but then you see that there's a communications system up and running on the desk next to the missiles. 
                          
You limp over to it and try to connect with the Overwatch carriers. You struggle for nearly two minutes, every second feeling like precious time lost, before you think you've found success.
                          
"Hello?" you ask, "can anyone read me? This is (Y/N) McCree, I'm stuck underneath Overwatch with several misses and I need to speak to anyone I can."
                          
For a moment, nothing but static rings from the other end. Then, there's a quiet, "read you. I'm connecting you to our technicians on the ground. It may take a few minutes to find a secure line, but they may be able to help—"
                          
"I don't have time for that. We have just about twenty minutes. Get me the Lindholms, Wilhelm, Song, anyone. Please."
                          
"Copy that Mrs. McCree, patching you over to carrier five."
                          
You listen in for the sound of familiar voices— and you see their faces before you hear them. A holographic screen whirrs to life in front of you. You see several bruised upper agents in the carrier, (namely Lena, Angela, Genji, and Fareeha) along with a few lower agents, a few of the Commander Council— and then you see in the corner, Jesse and Liana. 
                          
You catch a brief reflection of yourself in the hologram before it fully illuminates. You don't look like you should be standing. You watch Jesse's eyes flicker over to where you stand, and you watch as his face falls. There's a deep panic in his eyes. 
                          
All passengers of the carrier turn to face you. Both Brigitte and Torbjörn are in the carrier, as is Hana. 
                          
You breathe a sigh of relief. "We're in deep—" you catch yourself as you look at Liana, "....trouble. Deep trouble. We've got twenty minutes to disarm seven missiles and I have zero clue what I'm doing."
                          
"You called the right people. Hopefully," Torbjörn responds. "We're mechanically minded. We can only hope. Can you describe what's going on in there? Any paneling you could open up? Give me a sense of its workings?"
                          
"Frankly, I don't want to touch it. They look sensitive," you say as you risk a glance at the missiles. "There's panels in the ceiling that look as if they're meant to open up to the sky above. I don't know what's above me— and this comm system looks like you won't be able to track much of a location from it."
                          
You try to not look at Jesse. You need to be singularly minded right now. If you think of the risks you'll fall apart. 
                          
"There should be some system to override it manually. Can you check to see if there are any ports requiring some sort of key or passcode function? There has to be a measure in case of accident," Torbjörn muses. 
                          
"I don't know how long this has around, but from what they were saying, this was planned."
                          
"What who was saying?" Jesse pipes up. His voice is hoarse. Angela takes his hand. He's panicking. 
                          
"Talon. Their leaders. This was all planned. It wasn't a mistake. There is no second wave. It's here and now," you say with all the urgency that you feel. "So we can't waste any time. Not a second." You glance over to the desk then say, "I'm not seeing anything Torb." The only notable thing on it is the communication system itself, a very old and very dead laptop, and a notepad. You take a moment to search the notepad, but you note that several pages have been torn out. 
                          
"They were thorough. There's nothing here. Nothing."
                          
Silence falls over the carrier and over the room. You're left with nothing— trapped in the darkness, blue light of the screen projecting over your bleeding body. You hear the soft beeping of the clock. Your heart races.