#broke: the matrix hurts a whole lot to get hit with

[unicronnomnomnomnomnomnomnomnom]

There's no pretty way to phrase this.

The fluid of, plating of, and any items touching a thing soaked in Matrix-light for a length of time is probably gonna make this guy a bit high.

Sorry OP. Your bedding is absolutely getting eaten so this thing can get intoxicated.

[garthups]

the maze, part I

Part One of the story! Very excited to post this. -Leslie

I kept the car running in park while the shitty vents sputtered, trying my hands warm. Your Love by that band from the eighties was playing in the distance. I have a love-hate relationship with these roped off grassy parking lots, where there aren't actual spaces, just car anarchy. Take any spot you can find and let’s all hope that some semblance of a parking lot comes together. Sure there’s something inherently egalitarian about it, but they remind me of being scared to park when I was learning to drive. I was always positive that my Camry was too far over, and I’d brace myself for the crunch of metal on metal. 

The familiarity of coming to the maze made parking in the lot easier, and I didn’t have to reverse and drive into the same spot over and over again to be satisfied. My friends and I came to Hudler Farm every October for the autumn corn maze. Sometimes we’d take caramel apples in and chaunk through them while meandering.

 Fuck, that was always so fun. High school seems like a lifetime ago though. All it takes are a few hundred miles, and staggered midterms, and suddenly you talk to the guy in the dorm next to yours who gets drunk on natty seltzer more than the people who got you through your mcr phase.

 None of us got together last year, which was a bummer, but out of the blue Lottie messaged Sam and me. I watched the shadowy families walk by in the dark, my hands weren’t getting any warmer though. The idle LEDs were dim enough that I could see outside. A little boy running after his parents tripped and fell in the mud. I stifled a chuckle, because kids falling down is hilarious, and tried to screw with the vents, but they were already all open. Piece of shit car. When I looked up, the boy was still splayed out on the ground, shivering. Both his parents kept walking though. I scrunched my brow. I started fidgeting with my seatbelt, but my hands didn’t have much feeling in them. People were just walking around him, like he wasn’t there. 

“WHAT’S up dog!” My door exploded open.

“JESUS fucking god Lottie, I--” She took her spot in the passenger seat, laughing her ass off.

“Sorry sorry sorry, wow Phoebs I got you pretty good huh?”

“I mean yeah I’m just so ready to get killed in this parking lot. Hey I think that kid hurt himself out there pretty bad.” I breathed, still shaken.

“What kid?”

“That one.”

“Oh that one, sorry it’s dark, so it took me a sec. Yeah let’s go help.” Honestly, I could never stay mad at Lottie. Seeing her new dreads in person made me miss the big buns she wore in high school. We slammed the doors shut, and stepped onto the ground covered in too-damp leaves. Two guys beat us to him though, and they were helping him up.

“Oh wait, is that the kid you meant?”

“Lottie, why would I be talking about a kid that isn’t sprawled out on the ground.”

“I thought this one was playing snake or something. Anyway, let’s go meet Sam’s friend!”

We walked over to the boys, Sam’s friend was getting the kid back on his feet. Sam’s friend was a good head taller than he was, which wasn’t saying too much. The guy gave off an eagle scout vibe though, so his height was probably pretty important to him. Maybe camp counselor would have been closer. He was gently reassuring the kid.

“Feeling better? Okay, better go catch your folks, and make sure not to stay too far behind them, bud, okay?”

“Good call man, I thought he was just playing snake.” Sam glowed.

“Sup fuckers!” Lottie sang. The boy turned around, he looked about nine, so Lotties curse made him bust a grin. From the looks of it he scraped his cheek pretty bad. He dashed off. Sam’s friend laughed nervously since Lottie broke the unspoken rule of swearing in front of kids.

“Hey dudes! It’s so awesome to see you!” Sam laughed. “I told Matrix everything about you, so there’s no need to divulge any information to him. Don’t trust this guy with any more embarrassing stories about yourselves.” Matrix waved shyly, and I rolled my eyes.

“That’s cool. You know we called Sam “Shrimpy” all of sophomore year because his hair got all curly and he dyed it red?”

“Thanks Phoebe, that is something I like people to know about me.” Sam said while subconsciously making sure his hair was still a tight buzz cut. Matrix smiled a little.

“You must be Lottie?”

“It’s great to meet you! Lets get some apples.” 

The four of us were waved through by the teen collecting tickets. The entrance to the maze had a little banner raised up on two poles and a chair with an admissions person. Next to the entrance was a main pavilion with a tiny shop and some picnic tables out under the roof. Lots of families were congregating there, buying souvenirs and farm t-shirts. Thankfully this wasn’t one of the maze theme nights according to a big promotional calendar that outlined all the dates. Lottie groaned when she saw that they added alien night and we hadn’t bought tickets.

“Like what does that even mean though. Are there aliens in the maze? Do they scare us?” Sam said eyeing the kettle corn buckets.

“Yeah I mean, it’s probably just like zombie night and mermaid night where you just get like jumpscared by teens in costumes. Freakin aliens though! Imagine!”

“Uhh did you say they do a mermaid night here?” Matrix said.

“Dude I never told you about that! You’re looking at the three scariest volunteer mermaid teens that Hudler farms has ever known. We were unholy legends flopping after scared families.”

Sam and Lottie were wide eyed crowding around Matrix, telling him all about the glory days. Made me pity him, his bud probably had a whole different energy at college.

“They’re fucking with you! Why in god’s name would a corn maze have a mermaid night.” I finally shouted. Lottie pouted.

“Boooooo Phoebe! How dare you!” I wrapped my face up in my scarf to escape guilt. 

We all mostly ate our caramel apples under the pavilion just so we could give Matrix the rundown of the maze. The Hudler farm maze has these eight checkpoints which give you special tickets. 

“We don’t leave without all eight. Got it? Dee oh en tee. I don’t give a fuck if we die trying.” Lottie said through a mouth of caramel and nuts. It felt surreal having my friends here again. After all, the limited exposure I had to them was social media. I lived vicariously through the photos they posted of new friends.

There was a sign in the pavilion that gave us a rough idea of where all the checkpoints in the maze were. I resisted the urge to take a photo in order to preserve the challenge that the maze posed. Probably didn’t need it to beat our best time. I was the only one who hadn’t finished their apple for traditions sake. Hopefully the caramel wouldn’t freeze though.

“Ok so let's remember to hit that cluster of checkpoints in the northern corner first. We're gonna take a lot of rights and then keep going on that long stretch forward.” I strategized.

“I’ll eat that apple if you’re not going to Phoeb, you know I’m psyched that they got pink ladies this year instead of grannies smiths.” Begged Sam.

“I did a few youth group trips to corn mazes, so this isn’t my first rodeo guys don’t worry!” Matrix added.

“That’s cool.” Phoebe said straight faced. I wanted to laugh, but didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

Before I could respond, I saw it. I inhaled slowly as I took in the scene before us. The moon was thin and most of the lights were under the pavilion itself, but I felt like I should’ve noticed something so wrong before.

“Why is the all corn so fucking tall.” The question, er -- statement hung in the air for a few seconds while the maze came into view for everyone else. Corn stalks get surprisingly tall late in autumn, maybe like ten feet. This stuff though. It was like, way way way too tall. And not irregular. So, regular. The maze looked like it could have been a trimmed hedge. All the stalks stretched up and up, reaching out for the sky, each of them trying to escape from the ground. I suddenly was at a loss, something so ordinary was wrong in such an obvious way. Finally, Lottie broke our silence.

“Shit.” Great. I mean, she wasn’t wrong.

“That’s amazing. God is it this tall every year? That’s the tallest corn I’ve ever seen, must be 30 feet! Maybe more.” Finally Matrix had found something to be upbeat about.

“Ahh no man. It’s like normal usually. Lottie are you feeling alright? Do you want to take a sec before we head in.”

Matrix jumped in. “Nothing to be worried about. I’m sure it’s just like GMO’s or something. Gotta up the yield. They should seriously lead with that in the advertising though. Corn jungle! Towering Corn! Feast your eyes ladies and gentlemen on the worlds first corn metropolis!” He broke the spell on Lottie with his campy broadcaster voice. She joined in: “Keep your dame close as you delve into the mysterious corn caverns, where the CORN DRAGON DWELLS.”

Matrix Chuckled. “Well I don’t know about that. Hard to deliver on a corn dragon. But look I’m sure it’s fine, everyone else doesn’t seem to mind.” It was true, the usual fare of families and teen groups were venturing into the maze without concern. I watched the family from the parking lot get a safety flashlight from the teen working the entrance. I breathed in through my teeth.

“For a second I thought you actually made jokes, scooter. You’re right, it’s probably just a good year for tall corn. We can go.”

“Phoebster, you good?” Sam nudged me. It honestly took me a second longer than Lottie to take in all the explanations. It was such a weird thing to be off in such a significant way. Must have been some primal instinct of being afraid of the dark. The corn stalks were darker than the night sky around them; I tried to catch glimpses through the stalks but they blanketed out the stars. 

“Yeah sorry about that guys. I’ll remember more of the strategy once we’re in the maze. Let’s blow through this thing!” 

We went into the maze.

[dirtyfilthy]

The Betrayal Of Chelsea Manning By The Coward Adrian Lamo

I have only participated in “cancel culture” once that I can remember. Once, over the broad course of my life, and that was when Adrian Lamo sold Chelsea Manning out to the authorities. Motherfucker has the  sheer gall to call himself a hacker, and then rats someone out — not because of his principles, but from a constant desire for pure narcissistic supply -- and all this from a position of trust no less… 

I was real angry, and I wanted to put the boot in, any way I could. There was a special circle of hell reserved for people like Adrian Lamo… and as it would turn out, he was already in it. 

Amongst petty vendettas like stuffing his wikipedia page with all the well referenced dirt I could dig up, along the way, and kind of by-the-by, I ended up doing a lot of research on the guy, and then, well, the picture of Lamo that emerged… 

Jesus. 

He’s been a hardcore benzo addict since his twenties. If you know what to look for you can tell in some of his interviews, slurring his words and looking very spacey.  He never really had a real job, never broke into the industry he was aways on the fringes of. It’s kinda crazy, if you search for “homeless hacker Adrian Lamo” you can still see what the mass media thought of him before he turned in Chelsea. 

He’d kind of weaselled his way into popular consciousness by being a shameless self-promoter, and then managing to get caught in that spectacular “rebellious teenage hacker” vs. “huge faceless corporation” way that tends to capture people’s imagination. 

There were whole articles about him in Wired. Multiple in fact. Here’s one of earliest from 2004 (unfortunately now behind a paywall), “New York Times vs The Homeless Hacker”. The first few lines can still give you the gist, however

A self-styled security expert and serial self-promoter, Adrian Lamo made headlines as a grayhat hacker. Then the Gray Lady came down on his head. Not long ago Adrian Lamo was exploring an abandoned gypsum processing plant in West Philadelphia with two friends, when a police cruiser drove slowly by. Lamo’s friends were high on methamphetamines…

https://www.wired.com/2004/04/hacker-5/

Even during this phase of his life, a lot of people in the scene didn’t like him. At least, there were people complaining on hacker boards about him stealing exploits and then burning them for the publicity.  In the end he got off with probation and home detention, and that was the end of blatantly hacking into shit. Any more and he would certainly end up in prison. Attitudes were changing, the authorities had stopped seeing hacking as just high-spirited teenage hijinks. and the increasingly severe penalties could land you some serious time. 

After this, he just sorted floated around. He never got job in the industry like the rest of us, and I suspect he may have been  basically unemployable for one reason or another. The next time he popped up in my news feed was in 2010 with a strange article from ex-hacker turned journalist and friend of Lamo’s,, Kevin Poulsen — “Ex-Hacker Adrian Lamo Institutionalized, Diagnosed with Asperger’s” 

The first paragraph or so reads:

Last month Adrian Lamo, a man once hunted by the FBI, did something contrary to his nature. He says he picked up a payphone outside a Northern California supermarket and called the cops.

Someone, Lamo says, had grabbed his backpack containing the prescription anti-depressants he'd been on since 2004, the year he pleaded guilty to hacking The New York Times. He wanted his medication back. But when the police arrived at the Safeway parking lot it was Lamo, not the missing backpack, that interested them. Something about his halting, monotone speech, perhaps slowed by his medication, got the officers' attention

— (https://www.wired.com/2010/05/lamo/)

The article claimed Lamo had been arrested for acting strangely and then institutionalised, basically claiming the police had arrested him because he was autistic. At the time, I didn’t really give this a second thought, “oh well, ho-hum”. As itt turned out, this was a case of the most spectacular kind of “spin” I think I’ve ever seen; the only place the article actually intersected with general consensual reality was in stating Lamo had been arrested and placed on psychiatric hold.

The real story, which is entirely far more pathetic, was that Lamo’s family had become worried about his benzo use (“prescription anti-depressants”) and had cut him off. He totally lost the plot at this point and stormed out of house. Concerned about his mental state, and with fears for his physical safety, it was actually  his own family that called the police to try and find him. 

When confronted about this fairly massive discrepancy, Lamo claimed he hadn’t exactly “lied” as such, and had simply withheld some facts due to personal privacy concerns. 

It was at this point I finally began to see the whole tattered trajectory of Lamo’s entire life — trace the greasy path of his rainbow with my fingertips, and watch as the once bright twine became  increasing gray and frayed as each thread began to curve back towards it’s inevitable impact with the earth, when, at which point, everything important would begin to totally unravel around him.

At his core, Adrian Lamo was a narcissist, and so Adrian Lamo absolutely believed in the Adrian Lamo narrative, as only a narcissist can. Near of beginning of his tale, this was easy to do. He was a wandering Daoist sage, a renegade techno-monk character in a Neal Stephenson cyberpunk novella, and anytime he wanted to see his own reflection he could simply look in any of the major newspapers.  

After his arrest and release, the rest of the world moved on. His peers all settled down to well-paid industry gigs, and you couldn’t just pop the New York Times through an open proxy any longer — well, at least: not most of time, anyway. His own sword, never the exactly the sharpest in the first place, was beginning to show some signs of a serious structural rust. 

Without the constant assurance of people telling his own story back at him, what was he exactly? What did the mirror portray to him now?  An unemployed, semi-homeless drug addict, a hacker who couldn’t hack his way out of wet paper back with pick axe, the tired punch line to any number of bad jokes...   

Of course, the many similarities to my own life were not exactly lost on me. I was basically a case of being a few near misses and unlucky hits away from sitting in his exact position. I had made the transition to an industry career successfully, but I was still a drug addict with mental heath issues.  I had gone through my own narcissistic stage when I was younger, but thankfully grew out of it, the old moons no longer pulled on my tides the way they used to. 

The essential Lamo pattern had began to emerge. Still chasing the same bright stars that had long since sunk beneath the horizon line of the ocean; Lamo would begin to feel irrelevant —  Lamo would get then his name in the media in some fashion. A momentary peace was then achieved, then came a brief period of post-orgasmic. cosmic serenity. 

But of course, the wheel of karma will not stop spinning for anyone, and so, soon enough and all-to-quickly, the entire process of personal renewal, would have to, you know…..  begin anew.

A few other case studies were observed. An unreleased, permanently unfinished documentary featuring Lamo was mysteriously leaked on the internet. Of course, Lamo himself had leaked it. And there was always appearing on various morning television shows, Good Morning America, Fox News & the like.

But then the mother of all opportunities just dropped into his lap.

Chelsea Manning needed someone to talk to. 

Chelsea knew Lamo was Bi, so he was at least in the LGBT community. Adrian was a hacker too. He’d fought against the system in his day, he was certainly someone who would “get it”, she was very sure of this.  And when she did reach out, he was indeed very sympathetic. Honestly, it seemed like he really cared. Just a genuine human being, reaching out across the vast emotional void to provide a sense of empathy to someone who really, really needed it right now.. 

He was very sympathetic when Chelsea told him all about her struggles with gender identity, and he was very sympathetic when she said she was leaking gigabytes of information to Wikileaks…. But behind his sunglasses, Lamo eyes had already morphed into a marquee LED matrix endlessly scrolling his own name. Think of the news coverage!

This was big. This was very big.

It would, in fact, turn out to be fucking huge. Of course, within in the hacker scene, and to a certain extent, even outside it, everyone just fucking loathed him now.  Eventually even the news moved on, nobody wanted any more interviews, and in the end, when everything has already been all said and done: you are ultimately left with only yourself….

… a pathetic drug addict.  Of course, I have to keep telling myself that one point of intersection does not an entire venn diagram or an actual equality make. But I can’t shake the feeling that, perhaps, maybe we weren’t really all that different.  Maybe my own betrayals have had the simple luck of being a lot less public. 

Perhaps my own sins were just as ugly, but far less ambitious. 

Adrian Lamo died alone, from a drug overdose, in a private unit in an aged care facility in Wichita, Kansas.  He was 37 years old. An autopsy showed his kidneys were already failing. 

I guess Sartre got it wrong. Hell isn’t other people, it’s being left totally alone, with nothing else around but the tedious company of your own terrible self, and of course, the fucker won’t stop talking...

So obviously there was nothing more I could do to hurt Adrian Lamo, nothing that Adrian Lamo hadn’t done already. He had long since locked himself away in a prison cell of his own making. I do wonder if maybe one too many silent 3am’s hadn’t come crawling around the clock face when he was there & awake to witness it, lying in bed & staring at the ceiling and trying not to think about things.

Like I’m doing.

Shit, I hope don’t go out that way. 

[literalloserforhanzo]

너무 어리다- Too Young

BIG WARNING

Please! Make sure you’ve read the warning Tags before you read the fic itself, this might be disturbing to some people!

Hanzo x D.VA - It’s D.Va’s first mission and it doesn’t go as planned. Do the other agents arrive in time?

Warning Tags: (this fic includes:)

1.Psychic trauma+Angst

2.Physical and psychological pain!

3.Mention of blood, hurting and there is a lot of fighting.

4.There is no pedophilia involved but Hanzo’s behaviour might give off weird vibes. Some of you will maybe feel like I over-dramatize stuff but I rather have people not read it rather than people be mad because I didn’t warn them

If you are fine with that, have fun reading :^) <3 

____________

 Dva's MEKA was destroyed unexpectedly and she was thrown out of it , trying her best to land on her feet. She checked the device on her arm on the repair status.

„Only 10% ?“ I'm so doomed. “

She was fighting a talon agent, whose gun inflicted a whole lot of damage to her MEKA, more , than her matrix could handle. The others were far away, everyone doing their own part of the mission , most likely succeeding, unlike her. She pulled her gun out and hid behind a barrel. Clicking sounds and cursing let her know, that his big weapon was out of ammo and he was preparing a hand gun . He began shooting every item in his sight once, hoping to find the one, she was using as a hideout .

D.Va was running out of time. She had not calculated to be ejecting out of her machine so early and therefore, had to think of a plan B. Asking the others for help would be an option but she wanted to prove, that she could handle hard situations by herself and didn’t need to be babysat all the time. The shots became louder and louder and so did her heartbeat. She bit her lip and decided to take a risky move rather than hoping he misses her behind the barrel. Rolling from behind the barrel to a nearby box she tried to shoot him but missed as her speed made it hard to aim. Now he knew where she was and that was a problem. To her luck, whatever was inside the box blocked the shots and she managed to run behind a nearby wall.

“Come out little girl, your hiding wont help you and we can end this faster and easier for the both of us. I promise you, you won't suffer!” He reloaded the gun and walked towards her hideout.

Mere seconds before he reached her, she ran out from behind the wall and landed two shots, one on his shoulder and one on his upper thigh. They both hit his armor and fell off. Her eyes widened and so did his smile. “Owwww does your little pew pew gun not work against my armor? That's such a pity you would have hurt me so bad.” Tears welled up at the corners of her eyes and she stood in front of him pointing the gun to his head, with shivering arms. “I bet you would have loved to hurt me . I gave you the chance to surrender but you didn't take it. Such a brat. Now, I want to hurt you.” She fired a shot but he easily dodged it walking towards her, gun pointed at her chest. Her shiver became a shake, her tears many more and her clenching of teeth, heavy breathing. “I can't believe you're still trying.” He laughed and did not take his eyes off hers.

For every step he walked towards her, she walked one backwards, soon she'd hit a wall.

She eyed him closely and noticed a little hole in his armour. It was a piece, that broke off by the damage she inflicted with her MEKA and her chance to buy her some time, if she managed to hit a shot at that one place. “I'm not afraid of you !” She yelled and ducked, taking his focus out for a single moment, not long enough, he saw through her and jumped upwards in that moment, dodging her shot and landing one in return, on her left knee. An enormously high pitched cry of pain, echoed through the halls of the warehouse. Quickly, she regained posture and tried her best to pull her injured leg behind her, trying to build up as much speed as she could and run away, before he could land another, painful shot.

“Where do you think you are going? You miss me badly and now all you do is run?! I WILL  HURT YOU SO BAD!” He yelled out. DVA Was running, the adrenaline partly numbing her pain, enough so she could run. Her cheeks tinted with dirt and her tears smudging her war paint. The agent fired another shot

but missed, as DVA pulled her foot away fast enough, falling behind a corner breathing loudly. Muffled cries escaped her throat and she was struggling to breathe. “I'm going to mess you up.” He stood only a few meters away from her. On all fours she crawled backwards and tried to stand up, shrieking for air. He pulled the trigger. No response. He was out of bullets.

“F**king sh*t.” Slowly but steadily walking after her, he looked through all his pockets, in hope to find a weapon or ammo for his gun. DVA walked with a limp, looking out for a way to escape. Every room, every wall and every corner looked the same to her. She tried to turn around and aim at his head but the numbing decreased , the pain became more unbearable and her vision blurred out. He grinned after his hand reached a certain pocket and pulled out a really big knife. DVA closed her eyes. She had lost. This was her end . She regret agreeing on a mission this early. She regret wanting to prove herself. She regret miscalculating the span of her MEKA. She regret not calling for help. The tears fell and fell and her shaking hands were about to let go of her weapon, her posture giving in by her injured leg. She turned around again, not wanting to lose sight of her opponent. His arm was wide behind his head, holding onto the knife and reaching back to throw the knife at her, calculated just as perfectly as the shot at her leg. She closed her eyes, she was ready to see the white light when something strong took a hold of her arm and moved her away. She heard the sound of a sharp object hitting hard material and a shot being fired. In shock, she opened her eyes widely, trying to grasp the situation.

She witnessed the knife very few inches away from her leg.

The agent looked at her in shock, before falling onto his knees and then hitting the floor with his face.

In the corner of her eyes she could see movement.

She turned around and watched Agent Angela Ziegler unload her gun and stick it into her gun pocket, at the side of her thigh.

She gave the, now dead talon operative a last  look before she turned all her attention to DVA, running towards her yelling something DVA couldn't hear, ears deafened by the gunshot, the angst and the adrenaline.

She turned her head away from the medic, to see who pulled her away.

Her eyes met large brown eyes of her co-worker.

The Japanese man looked into her eyes in shock, wondering why she ignored the medic, why she wouldn't respond.

Wondering why she didn't call for help.

Wondering, how badly injured her leg was and how the situation escalated to this point.

DVA wasn't in a state where she could think clearly, her body taking over while her mind was going numb.

Her eyes lowered and her frightened facial expression turned into a crying face. She pressed her eyes together and her shrieking cries resumed. Both her arms reached out, hoping to grab the archer, who took the hint and stepped closer to her. She clawed at his Kimono and hit his broad chest with her forehead, pressing herself against the man, who stood stiff in shock. It took him a moment to react. He lowered his posture to close the gap between them and threw his arms around her back, holding her close.

“Hana... please calm down. You are safe. We are here.”

“I was defenceless!” She screamed into his chest.

“He destroyed my MEKA and then..”

“It's over now Hana, you need to calm down.”

 “He wanted to torment me!”

Angela gave Hanzo a scared look as she covered her mouth with both hands, holding herself back from making any noise. It wasn't the first time she saw someone injured, in pain or having a breakdown but this time, it was different.  Usually the agents she worked with, were older and handled the situation differently. Hanzo hardened the grip on her.

“Listen to me, he is dead. He is no more. No one is going to harm or torment you. Please calm down.”

 Mercy rushed towards them,trying her best to  withdraw the bullet inside her leg. Hanzo didn't let go of her during the entire process, muffled cries of pain escaped the young girl he was holding onto. The medic  was successful and resumed the healing as best as she could. The archer looked around and saw the destroyed items around them, figuring glimpses of what could've possibly happened.

 “Just why didn't she call for help?” Hanzo asked in hushed tones.

The medic shrugged and resumed her work. A few moments later, the healing process was done as best as possible with the given tools. The Archers comm informed him, that the dropship was outside, ready to pick them up, asking if everything went according to plan. Hanzo nodded towards Mercy, who walked few meters away from the two. “We managed to take out the agents and get a hand on their plans to attack the Overwatch base and many other places.”

“So it all went according to plan?”

Mercy turned around and looked at Hanzo who was trying to help DVA back to her feet.

“Not … really. We managed to finish the mission but Han- DVA is badly injured. I could heal her wounds to an extent but I'm afraid, that she might need to stay in the hospital for a while. I'd also recommend her to be supervised. She had a hard time fighting against a rather aggressive man, whose behaviour took their toll on her. I feel like we underestimated this missions danger level.

 “Can you walk?” Hanzo asked , still supporting her back with his arms.

“I, I think so..”, the girl whimpered out, trying to make a few steps with her thin, blood stained legs. “You don't need to over extend your ability. If you can't walk tell me. I can carry you out of here.”

“I'm fine, I can do this.” DVA tried to make a step and was very relieved, when she managed it. She didn't notice, that she was clinging onto Hanzo's sleeve the entire time, which kept her balanced.

“Listen Hana, I do not know why you keep declining my offers for help, but that is not how being a team works. You need to trust me and you need to know, when you are incapable of doing something alone.

If this was supposed to be a one man mission, they would not have send three of us, do you get the point?”

DVA didn't respond.

“You are not a burden to us. We are here to work together with you, alongside you and for you. You need to trust us. You will not prove anything to anyone if you do things alone, but that you do not trust us as your teammates. It's important to know when things need to be done by multiple persons, do you understand?”

DVA looked at the floor and nodded. He kneeled in front of her and pulled the strands of her bangs, that were out of place, away from her face. “Please never, go anywhere alone again, unless we tell you, that there is no other way, never hesitate to ask for help.” Hanzo held her cheeks in his hands and looked into her eyes, which were forming tears again.

“Okay come on little one, I will carry you out.” He gently grabbed her back and her lower legs to get a safe hold of her and walked towards the exit, where Angela was waiting , trying to smile at her in order to comfort her. The three entered the ship and more medical attention was given to the little soldier.