Shawn Rose sat across from her, arms folded, jaw set. His eyes never left the woman glaring back at him as though she'd been personally wronged by the existence of gravity.
Amrita Nadari.
Vishkar's Head of Global PR. The sort of woman who sipped imported wine while cities burned just beyond her bulletproof windows. In her pristine white suit that was lined with golden thread and Vishkar's signature holographic insignia, she looked wildly out of place aboard the steel-and-sweat carrier hauling them into a warzone.
"Do all Overwatch medics dress like vagrants?" she said, eyeing the bloodstains on Shawn's vest.
S3bastian coughed from the jump seat beside him. "My lady, that's not vagrant fashion. That's battlefield chic. Very exclusive."
Amrita ignored the omnic entirely. "I still don't understand why I require an escort. My tower is secure. I have my own guards."
"You were nearly assassinated during your last press conference," Shawn said flatly.
"That was a drone malfunction."
"It tore through a car."
She huffed. "Regardless, I'm here to deliver calm to the people. Not rely on thugs with defibrillators."
The rest of Rose's Thorns said nothing but the tension inside the carrier grew thick.
"ETA: Six minutes," the pilot called from the front. The skyline of Mumbai glimmered ahead, towers like jagged teeth, and below them, the sprawling patchwork of eastern slums.
"Approaching Vishkar Tower airspace—transmitting ident—wait… what the hell is that?"
A high-pitched whine ripped through the comms.
"Incoming! Everyone brace!"
The sky lit up. Two missiles streaked in from the southern district, smoke trails twisting like serpents. The first slammed into the escort drone beside them, shattering it mid-air. The second detonated near the rear thruster. The ship bucked as steel groaned and gravity yoinked them out of the sky.
They were spinning as they lost altitude. Spiraling toward the slums.
Shawn came to in smoke and rubble. The ship had torn through half a row of shanty homes before skidding to a stop. Flames licked from the cockpit. Civilians screamed nearby. Sirens in the distance as well as the sound of gunfire.
He rolled over, pain shooting up his side. As he remembered he was with his team and the mission, panic welled up inside him.
"Thorns!" he shouted, coughing on dust. "Sound off!"
His team groaned back in pieces—Marco with a shattered shoulder, Virginia limping but pulling someone from the wreck, S3bastian digging Amrita out of her twisted seat.
She was coughing, but alive.
"Get her behind cover," Shawn barked. "She's our priority."
"I'm not going anywhere without my assistant," she said through grit teeth.
"Then pray she's still in one piece."
From outside came the unmistakable echo of mechanized footsteps. Not Overwatch. Not Vishkar. Improvised omnics—scrap-forged, crude, and lethal—armed with everything from salvaged plasma cutters to old Vishkar rifles.
Behind them were humans some with makeshift armor, others with scavenged tech, lead by the militia unit that they encountered earlier. Obviously leading the slum rebels.
Shawn's jaw tightened. "Why is Anubis working with these people of all people?"
He remembered that Anubis has worked with the people before, the Hashimoto in Japan, but they both had a lot to gain off of their cooperation. Couldn't Anubis just keep sending omnics here and eventually overwhelm this place. He shook his head clear, he couldn't focus on that right now. If Amrita died here, this whole continent would fall as well.
The medics set up a hasty barricade from crashed rubble and vendor carts.
"Marco, Sonya, set up triage. Keep her breathing," Shawn said, nodding at Amrita, who sat with her heels dirtied for the first time in her life.
"Felix, Steve, and Dwanye cover that alley. They're flanking."
S3bastian knelt beside Amrita. "Try not to get shot. His whole protect the client thing gets messy."
Amrita's lip curled as she holds her chin high. "I'm not afraid."
"Good. Fear means screaming. Screaming draws bullets."
The first wave came fast, an ambush from both alley and rooftops. The attackers didn't distinguish between the remaining Vishkar officials and Overwatch medics. They opened fire on sight.
S3bastian unleashed a plasma burst that lit up a rooftop, sending a burning omnic crumpling down. Virginia stitched a stim into a civilian's neck mid-dash, dragged him to safety, and fired back with her sidearm.
Shawn held the front line, bioelectric currents lacing through his gloves as he jolted a wounded guard back to life.
Then a mortar shell hit the truck beside him, blasting him into the wall of a nearby building, knocking the wind out of him. Regaining his breath, he looked to see if anyone else was affected by the explosion as he felt his minor cuts start to immediately heal. Amrita, on the truck being blown up, lost her usual demeanor, and started to panic. She tried to crawl away, but bullets showered the ground in front of her, keeping her from getting away.
"Amrita, stay down!" Shawn barked, dragging her behind an overturned cart.
She was bleeding from a cut on her forehead but still clutching a data pad she had just pulled from her pocket. "They can't see this," she said, shaking. "If the shareholders..."
"Your shareholders don't matter if you're dead."
A mechanical roar echoed through the alley.
A large omnic, built from heavy loader parts and armored plating, smashed through the side wall.
"Cover me!" Shawn shouted. He drew his katana, the edge sparking with bioelectricity, as he charged, ducking the omnic's swing and sliding beneath it. The blade slashed deep, severing a leg piston. The machine toppled, crushed a cart, then detonated in sparks.
Spencer limped over, dragging another wounded Vishkar member. "We're outnumbered and outgunned!"
"Then hold the line," Shawn said. "They want her? They come through us."
A Vishkar VTOL passed overhead, trying to lock on.
"Extraction team inbound—landing zone compromised. You've got five minutes to clear an opening!"
"Sonya, smoke! Marco, grenade left side!"
"On it!"
The medics surged forward, not to kill, but to clear. Stun rounds, plasma bursts, smoke pellets. S3bastian slammed a charge into the street, opening a crater that scattered the enemy ambush, which gave them a window of opportunity.
"Go!" Shawn yelled.
They dragged Amrita through the smoke, medics providing overwatch on either side.
The team scrambled aboard the evac transport. Gunfire peppered the hull as they lifted off. One rebel launched a makeshift RPG that missed by inches.
Inside the craft, Amrita slumped against the wall, sweat-drenched and silent.
"Still think you don't need us?" Shawn asked, panting.
She didn't respond. Just stared out the side window, watching the slums burn from retaliation strikes Vishkar was already launching.