The pop and fizzle of explosions, yellow-colored dust hanging in the stagnant air, the oppresive heat from the sun above and fires down below.
This is what Angela Ziegler rushed head-long in to, in full Valkerie armor protocol and armed to the teeth. Being a surgeon without affiliation (other than her own reputation) meant frequently travel from city to city, crisis to crisis. She previously had spent nearly a year in Mosul, developing a close partnership with the medic teams caring for wounded civilians in the continuing Omnic conflict there. However, with a tentative peace being reached, Angela deemed it appropriate to search elsewhere to continue her work.
Numbani had not hit on her radar as a conflict zone; if anything, it was a haven of peace and a flourishing city full of potential. She had spent the previous few days lazily roaming the streets, relishing in the frequent and freely-available hot food and clean water, the sounds of children at play and adults working without the fear of violence keeping them indoors. Even the Omnic population here seemed content, coexisting without friction with the human populace. Unlike in England or Russia, they were granted the rights of any resident in the city.
A distress signal from south of Unity Plaza sent her armored and ready without question. Rounding a block, she saw what was all too familiar in her eyes; a near war-zone. Some sort of explosive device had gone off in front of a building, unrecognizable in its usage. She scanned the space in front of her, looking for those most gravely injured. It appeared as though many of those near the blast managed to get away in time, but others lay on the ground, struggling to stand.
Dashing towards them, she stopped and went down to her knees next to a man who appeared to have shrapnel in his leg.
She worked quickly and effortlessly, this routine performed countless times. Call for ambulatory services and a police force, then to work on the patient. He was conscious, staring up at her with confused and wild eyes. It was as if he was looking at something far beyond and behind her.
âWhat is your name?â she asked, placing gauze and wadding onto the deep wound in his leg.
No response. -He must be shocked by the blast, maybe his hearing has been affected.- she thought.
âCan you hear me?â she said louder. The bleeding in his leg was now controlled, and she glanced around the street again. Ambulances had arrived, picking up those less-wounded. She gestured towards one of the paramedic crews towards herself and the man she tended to.
âHe is unresponsive but conscious,â she explained as they moved him to a stretcher, âCheck his hearing-â
The man she treated was now looking above where she stood, his expression one of panic.
âYou are going to be okay,â Angela reassured the manâŠ
Then, another blast. This one was in the middle of the street, but without the metal shrapnel and orange blaze that accompanied the first. A flash of white light, streams of smoke pouring from the epicenter. The ambulance crews frantically put all of the victims from the first blast into their vehicles, calling for police backup. This was something larger, more dangerous.
From the uppermost windows of the surrounding buildings a team of soldiers leapt down to the street, being joined by a squad from the end of the city block. They wore respirators and heavy clothing, and were by no means a rag-tag group of rebels or a street gang. Angela found it difficult to breath, let alone see, covering her mouth, wheezing. Through the thick white smoke, she could see an insignia she recognized. Silver, like a stylized rams-head.
She felt her heart drop to her stomach, but this was no time for her to lose focus. Pulling her pistol out of its holster, she aimed it towards the men approaching, never the one to take the first shot. She knew well from speaking with her former colleagues that Talon had its ax to grind against Overwatch and its previous affiliates, and to always watch her back in case they were to strike. How did they know she was here? Was this first incident staged, to bring her into a trap?
A nearly silent shot rippled through the air, from the Talon forces directly aimed at the Doctor. She felt an intense pressure in left shoulder, knocking the pistol down from its aimed position, then the feeling of her back opening up, ripping.
She ran backwards a few paces, able to recompose herself after the shot and firing a few back at the unit. They made contact, but she knew as well as them that she could not take on this mass of highly-armed soldiers using just her pistol. The Numbani police forces would too be no match for this group⊠alone, at least.
Moving through the ever-increasing burning in her shoulder, Angela ducked behind a concrete roadblock. pressing her fingers against the transmitter on her cheek, she began to relay a distress signal:
âBreak-Break, this is Victor - Lima - Kilo - One -Three. Call to all available personnel. We have an emergency at street name Zeta, cross street Honeybush. Twenty men, all armed.There are civilians in the area who cannot evacuate, I am wounded as are others. Call for 09 medical evac and armed backup. I repeat, call for 09 medical evac and armed backup-â
Before she could finish, a hail of gunfire at the concrete block forced her to move her position. Taking refuge behind an ambulance whose crew fled on foot, she continued, feeling her breath weaken:
âRequest for response from responding personnel, over.â
Now to wait. Would anyone respond? Could she fight them off until someone arrived, if they arrived? The work she did not guarantee her life day to day, so she was prepared to face death in this moment. The fear lingered still, but she shook it from her head. Pressed against the cool metal of the ambulance, Angela took in a shuddered inhale, then exhale. She turned around its corner, firing a few more rounds off at the mass of men approaching her.
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