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===[CHAPTER 50: ANTI-COOPERATIVE ELEMENT]===
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The body of the Lieutenant fell, collapsing onto the hard ground. Void of life. Blood erupted from someplace unseen, painting the wall behind the Lieutenant in a final confirmation of the kill...
Eli had fired blindly in a fit of utter panic and desperation, his mental faculties far too scattered and with too little time to make aiming an option. Yet, he got lucky. So very lucky. For his bullet managed to find the one weak spot in the Lieutenant's armor, the small circular glass inserts within the helmet for the eyes, glowing red. Eli's bullet had sliced clean through, shattering the optical sight. In that moment, the glowing red eyes glowed no longer. Dark, empty, dead, lifeless. The mantis blade fell uselessly as the arm to which it was attached hung limp. Eli had won. Somehow...
He was left alone, lying on the floor, gasping for air and reeling from pain. His befuddled mind was trying to make sense of the world around him. Solid objects appeared to liquefy in his vision and a constant ringing pain in his jaw kept his brain unable to form coherent thoughts. He managed to make out the shape of Temetet, still moving, still alive, but very much so injured. Just how injured or life threatening his wounds, Eli could hardly tell. His thoughts were far too scattered to keep track of what was and wasn't. There was so much pain, so much heat, and in his mouth he couldn't get rid of the metallic taste of his own blood.
The door on the opposite end of the armory slid open. He saw lights. Someone yelling. A masked elven form sprinted towards Temetet’s body, falling over him. A blue glow illuminated Temetet’s pained face and the mask of the elf over him. A red slash over the left eye of the mask, Otaes' very own. She had instantly started healing her younger brother, a good sign as it meant he was still in a salvageable state. Eli's blurred attention shifted as more rebels filled the room. He saw Sosa's form rush through the shadows with a gang of other rebels as they took point in the hallway to ensure more Imperials weren't following. But there were none.
And then he felt someone grab him from the dark. When he looked up, he saw Dutch's face. His lips were pulled taut to either side of his face in a deeply concerning grimace. At first, Eli was worried that Dutch had spotted more Imperial soldiers or a dragon, or even a sentry! But slowly he came to the realization that Dutch was looking straight at him, and his face. The look confirmed that Eli was in a terrible state, but for what it was worth, he was still alive.
Just barely. But alive still...
Dutch yelled out to someone else – Matteo. He came into the picture, reaching into his medical bag and crouching over Eli. Someone, Badger judging by flash of white hair, shone a flashlight into his eyes, blinding him.
He felt something cool being applied to the side of his head before the sensation turned into a stinging burn. Cloth was wrapped around his forehead, and more wound dressings plugged up the other profusely bleeding lacerations all over his exposed body.
The next thing he knew, he was being carried. His arm had been slung around the shoulders of Matteo and Rafael. Eli was hardly coherent enough to understand what they were saying, but from the looks on their faces, it was nothing short of surprise and even awe.
He could turn his head to see Temetet also being carried by his sister’s arms. The bleeding from his collarbone soaked his clothes red. But despite the injury, he was still alive. If nothing else, Eli could finally feel relieved as he watched Otaes carry Temetet off to relative safety.
“Hey, Soldier Boy,” Rafael’s voice was the first thing to break through the fog in Eli’s mind, “You still alive?” giving him a nudge.
Eli nodded in response, still dazed but somewhat coming to his senses. He could feel the blood drying against his skin and clothes. The bleeding ceased under the pressure of bandages wrapped around his head. Despite his mild recovery, his fingers dug into the plastic-like material of Rafael and Matteo’s prisoner uniforms, fearing that if he didn’t hold on tight – he’d fall and wouldn’t get back up.
“Nothing short of a miracle. If we were a moment too late, he’d have bled out,” Matteo said, “One hell of a fight too. You and Temetet just brought everyone a lot of time. We were scared that the Avonians had already secured the armory by the time we made it up here – at least until we heard the explosion.”
Rafael nudged him a bit, “I’ve got good news and bad news, Soldier Boy. Which one do you want to hear first?”
“The good news,” Eli said. There was enough stress from the last few hours to last him a lifetime. He’d rather hear something good happen for once.
“Our ride back to the Nexus? It’s here.”
Eli felt something inside of him leap for joy. Finally. It felt like they had been in Helena for weeks doing nothing but fighting. In reality, the time from their helicopter crashing into the propaganda-laden slums of the city to now – was only a day. One single day of chaos. Their ride back home after this mission – a successful mission at that – finally had arrived.
Success would bring them one step closer to their own freedom. Ultimately, the Coalition would have to reward them in some way for completing a job that Headhunters should’ve been sent on – much less prisoners. The fact that Misfit was all still alive was a miracle. The Coalition would probably reduce their sentence. By how much, who knew? But any reduction would be an improvement.
But then Eli remembered what was at stake here. They weren’t alone in the ULA base.
“The bad news…” Rafael began.
“There’s still people here,” Eli finished.
Rafael nodded, “You can probably guess where I stand on the issue, Eli. To hell with Overwatch. But… I can’t blame you for wanting to high tail it out of here.”
“We really should let the rebels sort it out themselves,” Matteo sighed, “How would we even do that? We can’t just force the refugees onto the helicopter. They’ll just leave us here.”
“We’d need leverage,” Rafael said, “Something they want.”
That was true. And Eli knew what.
“Sparrow,” Eli said, “They want Sparrow.”
“Didn’t you already ask him? And didn’t he say no?”
“I can convince him.”
“I doubt that,” Matteo said, “Just look at you. Not to be a jackass or anything, but you’re a mess right now.”
Eli grunted, pushing off the shoulders of both Matteo and Rafael. His legs were still somewhat weak but his mind was back to normal, save for a constant droning headache that burned hot on his temples.
The two shuffled to try and keep Eli where he was, but he insisted on standing of his own volition, “I’m fine,” he said, “Look. There’s only one way we can get out of here with the refugees. And that’s if we can convince Sparrow to stay here. The Coalition wants Sparrow, and they’ll get him. But they’ll be forced to do what we want first.”
“They’ll punish us for that,” Matteo warned, “You can’t expect to humiliate Overwatch and get away scratch-free. They won’t beg. Remember how they threw us in solitary?”
“We got out.”
“That was a one-time thing.”
“What’s more important, making a stand for once to show Overwatch that we’re not their puppets and to do something good for once? Or to just save ourselves?” Eli asked him.
“You know the answer to that question. I’ve always been in it to save myself. Always have. Everything else comes second, and don’t lie and say that it isn’t for you either. Because I know that’s not true,” Matteo poked a finger into his chest. He wasn’t angry though. In fact, his face softened and he took a step back. He was giving Eli a sympathetic look, “But I’m also not going to stand here in opposition to what Misfit thinks is right. I made a pact with you, all of you, that I’d respect your leadership and any decision Misfit made together. I know that we’re probably not going to get back to Earth, at least not any time soon…”
Now it was Eli’s turn to be concerned, “At least not anytime soon,” Matteo continued, “All I’m asking is that you understand what the consequences of this are. And that whatever happens next… it was you who promised to keep us alive.”
“I didn’t forget,” Eli responded, “Not even close.”
He stole a glance past Misfit, searching for Temetet and Otaes, but they both vanished. He wanted to tell Otaes everything that Temetet had done. That her boneheaded little brother saved his life. That he owed him enough to at least stick up for him. But they were both gone, too far away now for Eli to make amends to either of them.
“Come on. Let’s go get Sparrow.”
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The emergency generators had been switched back on. It was pointless hiding from the Avonians now. Dim flickering lights turned the main hall of the base into an almost nightmarishly suffocating space. The massive windows had been blown out leaving wind and the rush of cold rain to blow over the refugees trapped inside.
A crowd of about one hundred had formed in the main hall, being brought out of whatever bomb shelter or cellar they had been herded inside. The Militia and Imperials were pulling back at least somewhat, though rebels maintained a strong line of defense along the walls. There were several more people who were injured during the artillery shelling both rebel and civilian. Only adding to pile of those who were already gravely wounded or sick. What few doctors there were among the crowd were having a difficult time trying to tend to each and every single person. If they could at all.
Cutting through the darkness of the storm were bright white searchlights. It illuminated the gardens and plaza in front of the main entrance. A distinct and deafeningly loud chopping sound was the key to the source. Their ticket home. A massive helicopter was descending onto the plaza, bearing Coalition insignias and crewed by a few regulars. He saw the metal hull of the helicopter through the shattered windows, feeling as the rain tickled the injured skin underneath his bandages.
Their ticket back to the Nexus and some semblance of normality, potentially even to freedom if Eli ignored the people. But he couldn’t. None of them could.
The Nexus had doctors. The Nexus had beds. Dutch had said it best, if Kovic wanted to build a Utopia – a real one – then he could start here. Not with the businessmen and wealthy politicians who only saw Narva as a place to take refuge from the world they helped to destroy. Earth was a broken world, and it was the types that Kovic invited here to be a part of his Utopia that had broken it. What about the destitute? What about the people?
He saw Sparrow standing somewhere in the center of the crowd, issuing orders to the rebels around him. As if he had sensed Eli’s eyes falling on him, Sparrow made eye contact with Eli. His white beard and matching hair made him stand out among the crowd.
“There he is…” Dutch said, “Listen, Eli. If you can’t get him to agree, well, I won’t blame you. It wasn’t our decision to make.”
Eli nodded, silently thanking Dutch for his words. Eli split off from the rest of Misfit, walking up to Sparrow alone. He felt weary, whether he was nervous or still out of his mind from the fight with the Avonians – he wasn’t quite sure. ‘A little of both’ he figured. It must’ve been.
Sparrow beamed as Eli approached, oddly happy given what Eli was about to tell him, “Eli! You scrappin’ monster! You’re still alive!”
“Thought I died?”
“It crossed my mind one or two times. Maybe more. Either way, I knew something was wrong when we saw the Avonians landing on the roof. The gunfire I assumed was from someone who managed to stay alive up there. I sent Misfit and Otaes up as soon as I heard – “
“Sparrow, the people,” Eli didn’t care about what had happened. They were bleeding time. The helicopter was right there, and the decision loomed over his head. Better to get on with it now.
“What about them?”
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“We have to take them.”
Sparrow rolled his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Look. I’ve already told you why that can’t happen. There is no time! At all! There’s only one transit out of here and it’s reserved for me, my rebels, and your squad. That’s it!”
“If we stay behind and make the people go first, Overwatch will be forced to send another helicopter to get you!”
“You want to stay here? The brunt of the Imperial Army has already crossed the border, they’re closing in on Helena as we speak! The soldiers we’ve fought against so far have only just been the Militia and small units that the Imperials sent to assist them. When the Imperial Army comes in, they will flatten this city! Everything that we’ve seen has only been the beginning!”
“Which is exactly why we should stay behind and let the people go first!” Eli argued back against Sparrow, “Why even have them here in the first place if you weren’t going to help them?”
“It wasn’t my call!”
“Then whose was it? You said it yourself; you’ll chase your goals no matter what happens. You believe in the ends justifying the means, right? Why is this any different?” Eli’s voice was wavering on a shout, but he stopped. The realization of why Sparrow was so reluctant to do anything dawned on him. He looked up at Sparrow, narrowing his eyebrows feeling for once – clarity. It all made sense.
“But helping the people was never your goal, was it?” Eli asked him.
“Freeman-“
“The refugees here aren’t refugees. They’re hostages.”
Sparrow’s face confirmed it all. He didn’t try to deny it, nor did he try to talk Eli out of it. He was apprehensive in a way that told Eli that it was true. Everything made sense. Why Otaes didn’t trust Sparrow. Why he seemed so reluctant to do anything to help the people despite having them here. Or why Sparrow was so committed to his revolution that he’d do anything to see the Avonian Empire humiliated and destroyed.
"Don't deny it," Eli started, "Sosa and Vega already confirmed what I knew. And like some kind of psychopath, you sent Temetet up to go looking for your soldiers knowing that he wasn't gonna come back... or at least he wasn't supposed to. You disgust me."
It was all a stunt. He wanted the people here in harms way because it’d make the Avonian assault that much worse. He knew the rebels here had cameras. He knew that the rebels were in harms way. That was exactly what he wanted. Whether it was just to make the Empire look bad or if it was something that ran deeper – perhaps to make the revolutionaries more sympathetic, Eli couldn’t exactly tell. But that point was clear.
No matter what the end goal of Sparrow was, the point was never to help anyone. It was all a part of his plan to fight the Avonians.
Eli took a step away from Sparrow. He could tell that he looked beyond enraged from the look the man was giving him. He didn’t know what to do. Misfit was so far away, the crowd of rebels and civilians cutting him off. His mind was frantically bouncing from idea to idea. Something had to be done. Someone had to do something to get these people out of here…
“Eli, Eli wait!”
He tried to grab at Eli’s sleeve, but he snatched his arm away. He’d been toyed with, trying to help someone who was borderline insane. Tricked by both Overwatch and Sparrow. Like he was a fool. No, he didn’t want to be a useful idiot to those with ill intentions. Even if Sparrow truly was a revolutionary fighting on the behalf of the people against the Avonian Empire, intentionally putting those innocent people – phantoms – in harm’s way was far from an acceptable answer to Eli. And if Misfit knew, he was sure they’d agree.
He turned to the crowd, raising his hands in the air, sucking in a breath of air, feeling his skin go cold and his hair stand on end.
“Everyone! Follow us!” He screamed out to the crowd. He waved his arms, gesturing to himself and then to the Osprey outside. Eyes fell on him, he reconsidered. Realizing just what exactly he was doing, his fear choked him up. But in the midst of the turmoil within, he realized that he knew exactly what he was doing and why. In the midst of rage, lost in the heat of the moment, he found clarity. His headache was gone, his mind at ease.
Just like when himself, Omar, Dutch and Matteo decided to venture out into the unknown to save Rafael, Badger, and Cato. His mind was clear, and he believed in what he was doing – finally.
He felt another hand clasping down on his shoulder, Sparrow’s grip was tight this time, mechanical fingers digging into his soft flesh. He was squeezing tight, “No! You don’t understand! I can’t take them! You have to listen!”
“No! You can, you just won’t! But I will!” Eli jerked himself away from Sparrow once more, “Follow us! We’ll take you to safety! Come on!”
Another voice from among the crowd, one that was familiar. He saw Dutch shouting something. Gesturing outside to the helicopter. Echoing Eli’s words. Soon enough, all of Misfit joined in. Even Matteo – if begrudgingly. And Omar whose voice seemed even smaller and younger than it normally was.
Faces turned, people began moving towards the exit. Rebels at first tried to stop them, but they too were confused. Attention turned to Sparrow for answers on what to do, but the man was strangely silent. He was staring at Eli, saying nothing, doing nothing.
Eli closed the distance, walking right up to the man who could probably annihilate him with that mechanical arm of his. But he couldn’t let Sparrow intimidate him.
“You say that you fight against the Imperialists, right? For the people, against the evil that has me as a prisoner? Maybe that’s true,” Eli said to him, “But this is how I fight for what I believe in. I’m done taking orders from people who only see me as a number, or a statistic. I’m done making the world a worse place because that’s the practical thing to do. That’s true for Overwatch, the Avonians, AND you!”
Silence. Sparrow remained stone faced, staring Eli down as the two locked eyes. Death glares. Eli made his point. He knew what he wanted, the only thing standing in the way was Sparrow.
From the assembled crowd a figure shifted closer. Eli recognized the tall stature and canine features anywhere. Sosa yellow eyes switched from both Eli to Sparrow. At first, Eli feared that he was coming to restrain him. He immediately took a defensive posture, unsure how exactly he was planning on winning a fight against the wolf. But, much to his surprise, Sosa only held up a claw before getting close to Sparrow. He leaned in to the side of Sparrow's face, whispering something Eli couldn't hear...
Sparrow grimaced... and then sighed.
“Stand down,” Sparrow said to the rest of his troops, “Refugees and wounded Rebels on that helicopter first. Everyone else, stays behind and fights! Let’s go!”
The rebels listened immediately, making way for the crowd of people and for Misfit to lead them to the Osprey waiting outside. Sparrow turned to Eli with the same unreadable smirk stretched thin across his bearded face, “You’ve got a lot of scrappin’ nerve. Don’t you?”
He took a step towards Eli, and for a moment Eli feared that he’d be incinerated by Sparrow’s hand cannon. But instead, he just shook his head, “Good. It takes a lot of nerve to be here,” he turned on the heels of his boots, gesturing outside, “Come on, Eli. You’ve got a lot of explaining to do I’d imagine.”
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Stepping outside was akin to stepping through another portal. In the middle of the storm, being assaulted on all sides by heavy rain and the strong gusts of air that blew ripples within Eli’s uniform. He was soaked and he hadn’t been outside for more than a few seconds. He walked alongside the rest of Misfit towards the helicopter. It was a massive vehicle, certainly large enough to seat about fifty or so people sitting – but ninety? There was definitely no space for Misfit and Sparrow’s rebels. That is, if they could even pull this off in the first place.
For now, the difficult part. Getting the people on the helicopter in the first place. Coalition Regulars had already disembarked from the transport in confusion as they laid eyes not just on Misfit but… everyone else. It must’ve been an extremely confusing situation for them, considering the communications jam from the Avonians. Though… if the Regulars here couldn’t find a way to communicate with Overwatch, then the Avonians might’ve inadvertently done Eli a favor.
“Are you ready?” Eli asked Misfit. Rafael, Omar, Badger, Dutch, and Matteo. All of them standing around him. He knew that they were. But he had to ask. He was terrified. Sparrow and his rebels were one thing, but Coalition Regulars? They were his direct superiors. It was the regulars who’d decide what happened here. Whether they’d acquiesce, standing aside to let the refugees on board, or if they’d refuse. Making Eli look like a complete and utter fool and sacrificing the lives of nearly one hundred to whatever grim fate awaited at the hands of the Imperial army and Sparrow’s cruel revolutionaries.
He felt a hand clasp his shoulder, gently so. Dutch’s hand. Through the heavy rainfall and the dark shadow of night, Eli saw that Dutch was giving him a smile. One both reassuring and genuine, “We’re right behind you. We didn’t come all this way just to back down, now.”
“Overwatch can’t make us their slaves,” Said Rafael, “Not forever at least. We shouldn’t let them.”
“We’re doing the right thing,” Badger added, “Even if this doesn’t work, at least we can say we tried. That’s more than most can say.”
Eli felt a flicker of a smile trace its way across the corner of his mouth. At least Misfit was with him. For better or worse, he had their words of encouragement. Maybe they were all wrong and committing themselves to doing something catastrophically stupid. Or maybe they were just being blindly naïve. Foolishly optimistic. An idealist, as Sparrow would put it.
But what Sparrow thought didn’t matter to Eli. For now… The Regulars.
Eli walked up over them, closing the gap between the assorted crowd of refugees and rebels, to the helicopter and the Regulars standing guard around it. The helicopter blades were still spinning, enough to blast cold rain directly into his face – soaking his bandages that were already threatening to fall off. He eyeballed each of the Regulars, knowing that once upon a time he was one of them. A soldier.
He approached the most senior of the Regulars, dressed in full battle gear. His chest grew tight. He felt his mind race. What was it that he wanted to say again? Where exactly was he? Wasn’t he going home?
He fought to keep his mind straight. He stopped when the regular looked at his shoulder, eyeballing the cyan delta trapped within the orange circle. The regular held out his hand for Eli to stop, warning that he was getting to close, before she addressed him, “Identify yourself.”
“Eli. Eli Freeman.”
“Who is your commander?”
“Captain Juma.”
“Misfit?”
Eli nodded. The regular looked from him to the crowd and then back to him. Here it comes. The make-or-break moment. Like standing on the bow of a sinking ship, knowing that the only way out was to jump into the frigid waters below.
“We need Sparrow, his accomplices, and the rest of your squad.”
He forced himself into the leap of faith.
“The crowd is coming with us.”
The regular was stunned for a brief moment. Perhaps she couldn’t imagine the sheer magnitude of stupidity Eli was suggesting. She shook her head, “I’m afraid I can’t do that. You, Sparrow, and Misfit – “
“And the crowd. They’re refugees. They need to get back to the Nexus.”
“We don’t have space for refugees-“
“Yes, you do,” Eli pointed at the helicopter, “That helicopter can fit one hundred people standing. Take the people first, they are civilians! Most of them are wounded. They’ll be flattened by the Avonians if they stay here any longer, you have to take them!” He begged her.
“They aren’t allowed!” The regular protested. Other soldiers moved to her flank, staring Eli down, “Can’t you understand me? Those are direct orders from Overwatch, prisoner.”
The way she said the last word, prisoner, a word full of spite and dismissal at the same time. Eli was not the Regular’s equal, to them, his ideas were none of their concern. For Penal-Unit to make demands of Regulars, PCT’s at that, was bizarre. To say it never happened would be like saying grass was green.
At least, grass was green back on Earth. Here, in this bizarre world in this bizarre situation, maybe the grass wasn’t green – nor the skies blue. And in this world, maybe Penal-Unit Phantoms could make a difference against Overwatch Command and their lackeys.
A loud voice drummed up behind Eli. He recognized it as Sparrow’s, clearly, “I’m afraid you don’t understand,” he walked up next to Eli as he addressed the soldiers with his signature smile, “I’m Sparrow, the man you’re looking for.”
“You need to come with us,” Said another Regular, “The deal was to extract you and your rebels.”
“The deal’s changed,” Sparrow said, “You aren’t getting me until every single civilian has been evacuated out of this city to safety. Either you take them first and come back for us, or you’ll get nothing at all and you’ll have to face your… how do you call it – Overwatch?” He looked to Eli for confirmation. Eli nodded, but cautiously so, “You’ll have to face Overwatch empty handed and with complete mission failure. Now I don’t know about you but judging by all that Overwatch has already sunk into this little pow-wow, I bet – actually – I’m certain they’ll be more than a little upset if this entire operation ends in failure because you didn’t make the right call.”
The soldiers were thrown for a loop by Sparrow’s statement. Matteo was right. Overwatch was only here to get Sparrow and his rebels on board with them, and they’d only listen to Misfit if they couldn’t get Sparrow otherwise. If they decided to cut their losses now and abandon Misfit, the civilians, and the rebels, all the resources they had spent trying to assist the invasion of Helena would’ve been a complete and utter waste.
On the flip side, if they decided to heed to Misfit’s demands and bring the civilians with them first, they would’ve been legitimizing a direct act of resistance by the Penal-Unit. It’d be a disaster for Overwatch Command, and it could very easily turn into a complete catastrophe if word of that act of resistance ever trickled down to The Penal Unit – and news among the Penal Unit spread fast.
Either way, Overwatch would be humiliated. Even though it wasn’t really an act of defiance from Eli, at least that was not the primary goal, it didn’t matter. The message would come across that way all the same. An act of rebellion. It was a lose-lose situation, both for Misfit and for Overwatch. There was no universe where Misfit got out of this unharmed, Overwatch would make certain of that.
The soldiers didn’t know what to do. They attempted to radio Overwatch command, but as predicted, their signals were afflicted by the communication jam. They had no direction, no order. Eli was right, the Avonian signal jam was doing him a favor, even if indirectly and without their knowledge. The regulars on the other hand… they knew what Eli knew. If they returned to the Nexus empty handed, they would be punished with the fury of Overwatch who had invested all this money, guns, and resources into a operation just to wind up with nothing. Whoever was put in charge of the operation might get fired. And the regulars here sent to handle the situation, they might get it even worse – for there was a risk of them becoming part of the Penal Unit too.
Without orders coming in from Overwatch, there was little they could do to protest. Either they caved, letting the refugees on board first just to come back for Sparrow. Or they returned to the Nexus, defeated and with empty hands and wasted time to show for all Overwatch’s troubles.
For once, Eli felt confident, watching the regulars squabble among themselves like a pack of headless chickens. Although it was small, and by no means permanent, a victory against The Coalition like this was hard to come by.
The regular in charge – a Staff Sergeant by the rank on her shoulder – looked Eli square in the eye. The look was brief, but it said everything. Spite. Hatred. Devastation. She had to resign to the Phantoms, just this once. The Coalition’s hand had been forced. There was no other choice to be made.
She didn’t talk to Eli, for he was a prisoner and not worth being legitimized in that sort of talk. Instead, her words were fully on Sparrow, and Sparrow alone – not daring to bat an eye at the rest of Misfit standing cautiously just behind the two, “Fine,” she said before heaving another sigh, knowing what kind of hell Misfit had just unleashed – not only onto the regulars’ hands, but to themselves ultimately. For the Coalition’s wrath never just dissipated, they never forgave nor forgot.
The moment those refugees stepped foot into the Nexus, Misfit – all of Misfit with no exceptions – would be a squad of dead men walking. Overwatch's most wanted.
“Let them come.”
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