Lena gave Angela a friendly wave. "I'll see you back at the apartment once we clear all this up!" she called out.

Angela nodded, squinting against the flashing lights of the police cruiser. A dull, pulsing ache was setting in behind her eyes, the beginning of a migraine. She shielded her face with one hand, trying to block out the strobing blue and red.

"Stay safe," she murmured.

As the cruiser pulled away with a blaring siren, Angela turned down the tree-lined boulevard toward her apartment. Golden beams of the setting sun filtered through the pale pink cherry blossoms overhead, casting long shadows across the sidewalk. Her heels clicked softly with each step.

The dull throbbing in her skull intensified with every squeak of the cruiser's tires and honk of traffic. Angela's brow creased, dread pooling in the pit of her stomach. Why did this keep happening? Her eyes squeezed shut, fingers pressing into her temples in a vain attempt to stave off the oncoming pain.

A gentle breeze rustled the cherry boughs, carrying the sweet scent of nectar. Angela paused, drawing in a slow, deep breath. She needed to get off the busy street and away from the stimuli overloading her senses.

Reaching into her coat pocket, she fished out her phone and sent a quick message to her assistant: "Taking the rest of the evening off. Please don't disturb unless it's urgent."

She hesitated for a moment, thumb hovering over the screen, before scrolling through her contacts list. Row after row of names strictly related to work or Overwatch operations - there was little else in this digital rolodex of hers. Frowning, Angela flicked up and down, unsure what she was searching for. Lena's number popped out, but her friend was likely tied up for hours with the authorities.

She kept scrolling until finally landing on the one number completely unaffiliated with her work. A small, wistful smile tugged at Angela's lips as she opened a new message.

"Hello, Hana. Are you free for dinner this evening? I could use a distraction from...everything."

Hitting send, she slid the phone back into her pocket and continued down the tranquil boulevard, the auburn sunlight filtering through the petals like stained glass. For a brief moment, the pounding in Angela's head receded, and her shoulders relaxed a fraction. She closed her eyes, allowing the gentle breeze to ruffle her hair and wrap her in the comforting embrace of night.

The warm glow of pink LEDs barely illuminated the dimly lit penthouse apartment. Hana stuck her head out from beneath a massive black desk, gilded metal glinting in the soft light. Computer cables and wires snaked around her like vines, tangling her limbs. She grimaced, meticulously pulling them free one by one.

"Tape p'yo-yo," she grumbled in Korean, sliding out from under the desk.

The thin, slick material of her jumpsuit whispered against the polished hardwood floor as Hana wormed her way out. She pressed her palms flat on the plush, bunny-shaped pink rug where her gaming chair rested. Pushing herself upright, she wobbled unsteadily, pins and needles prickling through her legs from sitting too long.

"Ah! Ah! Ah!" Hana huffed and stamped her feet, trying to restore blood flow.

Messy strands of her shoulder-length hair fell across her face. She swiped them back behind her ear with one hand while scooping up a stray extension cord with the other. Hana's dark eyes focused intently as she connected the three-pronged plug to a dock on her PC tower, the gentle whirring of fans filling the room.

A manic grin spread across her round features as the final cable clicked into place. Hana thrust her hands out triumphantly.

"It's alive!" she cackled, voice echoing slightly in the cavernous space.

The LED lights pulsed in reaction, bathing the room in rapidly flickering waves of neon pink and deep violet. The colors rippled across Hana's pale skin as she basked in the electric luminescence,

"Bishi-bishi!" Hana's phone chimed from across the room. She dashed over, snatching it off the pink wireless charging dock with its cute bunny ear accents.

Pressing the side button, she pulled up the lock screen, her deft thumbs rapidly entering the passcode. Green and silver graphics flashed as the homescreen opened. "Mercy!" Hana exclaimed, sliding to a stop on the polished hardwood. Her bodysuit's sleek material offered little friction.

She studied the incoming message before glancing at her vtubing setup - a monitor with a webcam poised above it. Her digital avatar mirrored her movements in real-time as it established an internet connection.

Ping! Another notification. Hana typed a quick reply: "I can't right now but I'm free on Friday."

Dots bounced on Angela's side as the doctor typed a response. "Friday night? Sure. I've been thinking about getting pizza."

Hana's mouth watered at the thought. "I haven't had pizza in like a month. I'm definitely down," she messaged back before placing her phone down.

She brushed stray locks of shoulder-length hair behind her ear and took a deep breath, steadying herself. Pushing a button on her desk, she activated her mic. Hana threw her arms out wide, shouting, "Mwo il-iya?!"

She broke into an animated dance, grinning as her avatar copied her exaggerated movements. Hana plopped down into her gaming chair, spinning it in a frenzy as the chat exploded with thousands of heart emotes per second.

"What's up everyone?" she yelled, eyes sparkling. "Your bunny queen is back and ready to kick some ass!"

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On screen, her avatar's eyes flashed crimson with simulated malice as a new first-person shooter booted up,

Hana looked over her avatar inside the game. A bubblegum pink katana with an electric green tip and a pink rifle of some kind slung over each shoulder—a large scope on the rifle's body had a crosshair in the shape of a punkish white rabbit. Grenades and flashbangs hung from a black belt wrapped tight around her character's waist. The skin she was using was an almost 1-to-1 recreation of her D.Va persona from her days fighting in the Omnic wars—pink armor plating made her look every bit the sci-fi hero, though her Meka mech was too complex to render in the game. She thought the outfit made her look like a battle-hardened cyborg. Hana shook her head, clearing doubts about her intimidating look before hitting "start." A neon logo flashed as the digital armory blinked out, replaced by the loading screen.

Hana glanced up from her monitors, the screens reflecting on her face. She stared out towards the floor-to-ceiling glass wall, peering beyond into the colorful nightscape of the city. This plush high rise gaming bungalow, nestled amongst Seoul's glittering skyscrapers, was bigger than some people's homes. Anime cutouts and plushies the size of couches were scattered around—artifacts of her elite mech-pilot celebrity in this post-crisis world. But the posh trappings felt hollow tonight. Half-finished energy drinks and empty snack wrappers lingered like ghosts in these cavernous gamer halls.

A chat ping snapped Hana out of her bout of isolation-induced melancholy. "Xx_BlueFist_xX just tipped 100 credits with the message: 'This is for you D.Va! Wish I was there!'" The animated "Dvalings" faces on stream broke into smiles and cheers. The rush of endorphins jolted her. Who needed IRL friends when she had millions online? She tuned out the silence in the room and tightened the headset, gripping the controller as she entered a new multiplayer battle arena.

Hana vaulted over a supply crate, using the momentum to slide into a tight crawl space. Pulling her pink katana off her back, she sliced at the ankle of an opposing player. A quick-time event flashed on screen. Hana smashed the right button, triggering her avatar to kick the enemy to the ground. Her katana flew into the air, skewering the fallen player with a satisfying slurp for +200 points toward a new weapon skin.

"That's what you get, loser!" Hana muttered under her breath in Korean.

A spray of gunfire erupted behind her. She ducked behind the metallic containers as smoke grenades clouded her position. Trying to tune out the taunts and calls of "spawn camper!" she slammed a new magazine into her rifle. Tightening her grip on the katana, Hana closed her eyes, letting the sounds of cargo footsteps echo. Judging their speed and distance, she calculated three lethal katana slices in the next two seconds.

Hana chucked a frag down the adjoining alley, driving her assailants together. Shards ripped through the space as their glowing footsteps approached. She pounced from behind cover, carving one soldier open. The butt of another's rifle crashed her health bar down by half. Glowing footsteps retreated around the corner.

Rifle raised, Hana glanced left then right, ready to take down her final target. But the countdown accelerated as the round neared sudden death. Scouring the arena, a neon green katana suddenly flashed at her feet. Blinding light filled her screen. Crackling steel sliced overhead as the counter hit zero. Hana froze, staring blankly at the frozen tableau of her avatar impaled by the glowing blade as the screen faded slowly to black.

The game faded away, replaced by a ravaged battlefield wasteland. Hana could almost smell the smoke and burning oil from shredded mechs and shattered omnic parts scattered across the torn earth.

A figure emerged, his silver mask dark and broken but the rest glowing green armor and cybernetics. one remaining eye fixed ahead from behind a cracked visor. He'd fought alongside Hana countless times before. His neon green blade carved through omnics with lethal precision to protect her mech as she provided air cover from above. They'd developed an almost shaky friendship over long months in the crisis.

Though one day his broken body had lain sprawled before her, medics working frantically to prevent the cyborg ninja from bleeding out. She remembered screaming soundlessly for him to hold on as they stabilized him enough for emergency evac.

Now the smoke parted and he dashed forward, intact and eye blazing. He leapt towards her mech, blade gleaming as it arced down swiftly not to attack - but to deflect incoming fire from above just in time. The scene froze on his face turned towards her as he defended her flank.

Hana blinked hard. She realized she was back in her gaming seat, hands numb from gripping the controls during her vivid flashback. Gradually the battlefield faded back into memory and she registered the firm present of the streaming room around her. She breathed deeply until her heart rate slowed,

Hana's brown eyes focused once more on the multiple glowing screens lying in front of her as she slowly returned to the present. Her chat log was flooded with increasingly concerned questions about her strange motionless period mid-stream. Trying to swallow, she realized her mouth had gone dry from hanging agape during the vivid flashback.

Her moderation team began flooding her private messages as well, asking if she was okay or needed assistance. Touching her face, Hana noticed lingering wetness on her cheeks. Her breathing grew more rapid and shallow as the full trauma of the memory washed over her again back in the safe gaming room. She clenched her eyes shut, forcing herself to inhale slowly, calming her runaway heart rate.

Hands still shivering like they had been submerged in ice, Hana's shaky fingers typed a quick message to her mods that she was fine, just needed a moment she closed the message with a smile emoji. She knew thousands were still watching her stream, expecting her smile and endless cheer. But the memory seemingly had drained her emotional energy completely. She couldn't summon the will to smile and go back to gaming as if nothing happened. At least not yet.

Over the next few minutes, she messaged her tight-knit mod squad to take over the stream temporarily. She promised she'd explain everything later. Right now, she just needed time alone to process.

Time melted away as Hana stood before the bathroom mirror, slim fingers running through her hair, massaging her scalp. Stress crept up her neck, seeking to smother her pounding heart. But she focused on her breathing, on the rise and fall of her chest, willing her body to stillness. She was D.Va: hero, entertainer, icon. The ghosts that haunted the other pilots would not consume her. She was the best of the best she wouldn't fall to what fell others. "Flow like water," she whispered, turning on the faucet and splashing the freezing water on her cheeks.

"Looks like you needed to cool off!" she declared with sudden brightness. The smile reached her eyes, making the marks on her cheeks rise. The stream was likely over now anyway. Nothing left but the wind-down.

Striding back into the gaming room, she wondered what Angela was up to lately. With a few clicks the screens powered down into rest mode. Silence flooded the vast chamber. At the marble-countered island, Hana grabbed a trash bag from under the sink. Crumpled cans, wrappers, and half-eaten plates were tossed inside one by one as she shuffled around straightening up.

"Clear space, clear mind," she repeated, gazing at her setup. The L-shaped desk stood alone in the room's center, elevated like an altar, surrounded by open floor on all sides. Plushies and posters covered the walls, gifts from fans over the years of streaming, but everything was kept back, leaving a sacred circle of space for her gear. She realized she didn't recognize most of the cartoon characters smiling down at her. The art was just background for her vlogs.

"Just got out of jail, wanna grab drinks?" Lena's message popped up, making Hana jump.

She quickly typed back. "Jail?? What happened?"

The bouncing dots taunted her before Lena's excuse appeared. "Got in a scrap, whooped both those wankers. Cops had a chat with me after."

Hana sighed aloud. "Here I thought they finally tossed your crazy butt in the looney bin."

"Not yet, luv! Can't lock up Miss Overwatch herself!"

That again. Hana flashed back to Lena's medal ceremony, when she got named "Overwatch Liaison to the UN" and everyone applauded. Those diplomatic immunity privileges definitely inflated Lena's head sometimes.

"I should petition to make Amélie Lacroix the Liaison instead," Hana threatened.

Lena's dot bounced indignantly before sending the tongue-out emoji. "Bleh! As if!"

Hana chewed her lip, wondering if she should ask... "Have either of you spoken to Amélie recently?"

"Nah, not since the Christmas bash, what five months back?"

"Almost six..." Hana trailed off. An uncomfortable quiet settled between them, millions of miles of empty space where words didn't need saying.

Hana glanced around at the walls of her silent streaming room, gaze landing on a group shot from that party of their old Overwatch squad. Amélie stood apart, looking away from the camera with a thousand-yard stare.

Hana took a breath. "You all should check on her sometime. She seemed...off that night."

"What, worried about the scary assassin?" Lena teased.

Hana rolled her eyes and lied, "No, but she's still reserve squad. It's good to keep tabs, just in case."

"sooo, drinks?" Lena asked again and Hana shook her head before realizing Lena couldn't see it.

"Not tonight. Had to end a stream early and...I'm just thinking of turning in."

A weighted pause before Lena spoke, quiet. "You saw him again, didn't you?"

Hana's body tensed, shoulders compressing inward. "I did."

Silence stretched between them like a taut wire. Finally, Lena offered, "You should talk to Amélie about it. She used to get those too, maybe she could help?"

Exhaling slowly, Hana dismissed it with forced lightness. "It's just the shakes, Lena. Everyone gets them sometimes. It's been a while, so at least they're going away."

"Right, that's the important part." Lena's tone turned gently encouraging. "Keep that chin up, it'll pass. Then maybe you can come out with us for drinks, yeah?"

"Oops, gotta run! I'll ring you later."

The line went dead abruptly. Hana wondered if the awkwardness had grown too much for her friend. She glanced around her cavernous apartment, enveloped in silence once more, the corners of her mouth tugging downward.

Why did it suddenly feel so empty in here?