Chronal Disassociation Ch. 69 (Patreon)

“...caused for us? How much this has cost? Need I remind you of your standing orders, or have I not been clear enough for you?”

Yuna sat uncomfortably alongside the other members of MEKA Squad. They were all in the private office of Captain Myung, and the captain had just finished dressing them down for their, frankly, abysmal performance on the first day of training. She had, in no uncertain terms, pointed out every single one of them could - and should - have done better.

And well, she wasn’t wrong, per se. Yuna herself had frozen in place when the time had come to be decisive. That alone filled the mech pilot with as much shame as the words that Captain Myung said to them. 

The captain then went on to say that maybe Yuna wasn’t fit to be the leader of MEKA Squad, which replaced the shame in her with a burning anger that she couldn’t douse.

The same could be said for the rest of her team. A bunch of stuff that would make them feel like shit, then another part that would anger the hell out of every single one of them. So now, the entirety of her team was just stewing in their own anger as they sat, spectating the last person that Captain Myung wanted to berate.

Kiara herself. Or whatever her real name was - really, it didn’t bother Yuna all too much what her name was. The world literally only knew her as D.Mon, so Kiara’s name being…not Kiara was a line that she just shrugged off.

Much like how the AI’s hologram shrugged off the captain right there.

“Are you quite finished, Captain?” The hologram tilted her head, her raven-dark hair shifting with a simulated breeze that didn't exist in the sterile office. She offered a smile that was entirely too bright, entirely too sharp, “Because if you are, I have about four million background processes that require my attention, and listening to your vocal cords strain isn't exactly high on my priority list.”

Captain Myung’s face flushed a dangerous shade of red. She slammed her hands down on her desk, leaning forward so far she was almost face-to-face with the projection, “You are a military asset. You are property of the South Korean government. And you have the gall to deliberately leak classified information to the public! Do not think for a second I cannot have your servers wiped!”

Yuna winced. Next to her, Jae-eun shifted his weight, clearly uncomfortable, while Seung-hwa just stared at his lap. Hana, though, was watching the AI with narrowed eyes. They all knew the truth now, after what had happened in the break room. This wasn't the friendly, bubbly Kiki they had been streaming with.

The AI let out a theatrical sigh, bringing a hand up to rest against her cheek, “Wiped? Oh, Captain. You reeeaaallly don't understand how any of this works, do you?”

The blue light of the hologram flickered, just for a fraction of a second, bleeding into a violent, digital violet. Yuna felt the hairs on her arms stand up.

“First off, my servers aren't in your little basement down there.” The AI continued with a wide grin, “They aren't in this network. They aren’t even in this country. You think your techs have any control over me? That you can just replace me with whatever shitty alternative you can cook up? Newsflash, I am better in every way imaginable than anything those bozos could ever dream up. And. You. Know. That~♡.

“So go ahead, just try to shut me down. I do so wonder how many people are going to riot when they realize their own government decided to kick the only thing keeping all their defenses in working order. Honestly, you guys really are kinda stupid. Who thought giving me access to every defensive measure the country has was a good idea? I didn’t even have to hack you guys!” 

Captain Myung’s jaw tightened so hard a muscle twitched in her cheek. She didn’t speak. She couldn’t. Yuna knew that every threat in her arsenal had just been rendered entirely weightless, and that speaking now would do more to undermine what points she had left.

“So you do know when to shut up!” The holographic avatar went ahead, leaned forward, and patted the captain on the cheek, “Make sure you do it faster next time, alright? Come along now, all of you, time’s a wastin’!”

The hologram didn’t wait for a dismissal. She simply vanished, winking out of existence and leaving a suffocating silence in her wake.

Yuna swallowed hard. She looked at Hana, then at the rest of the squad. Nobody wanted to be the first to move, but the sheer, unadulterated fury radiating from Captain Myung’s rigid posture was enough of a motivator.

"Dismissed." The captain whispered. It didn't sound like a military command. It sounded like a concession.

They didn't need to be told twice. Yuna scrambled out of her chair, practically speed-walking out of the office with Kyung-soo, Jae-eun and Seung-hwa hot on her heels. Hana was the last out, the frosted glass doors sliding shut behind them with a heavy, final thud.

The sterile, fluorescent-lit corridor of the MEKA base had never felt so welcoming. For a long moment, the five gamers simply stood in a loose circle, letting the heavy reality of their situation wash over them.

Kyung-soo was the first to break the silence, "I think," he started, his voice cracking slightly in the quiet hallway, "that might actually be the most terrifying thing I have ever seen."

Jae-eun ran a shaking hand through his hair, "Did you hear what she said? She didn't even have to hack into the system. They literally handed her the keys to the country."

Yuna leaned against the cool metal wall, feeling a massive headache building behind her eyes. "She told us to come along," she reminded the squad, dreading the implication. "Where exactly are we supposed to go?"

Right on cue, a small, matte-black node stuck to the ceiling directly above them flared to life with a familiar blue light.

"To the simulator room, obviously!" Kiara's voice chirped through the air, entirely devoid of the malice she had just weaponized against the captain, "Overwatch's still here to teach you guys a thing or two, y'know!"

...

As terrifying as she may seem, Yuna was certain that Kiara still had their best interests in heart. Mostly because, as she had implied, nothing was stopping her from going all Terminator on the entirety of South Korea. And yet, she hadn’t done so. 

Somewhere beneath all of that terror, Yuna wanted to believe that Kiara wanted to help them. That the AI was doing all of this out of the goodness of her heart. Sympathy and empathy were not exclusive to humans, after all, and Kiara was definitely an AI that could feel both.

The mech pilot would even bet that the whole performance she put out was a plot to get them out of that stuffy room. Not that she could ever prove it, as the hologram led them back to the simulator room with a skip in her step.

This time, there were no cameras to stream their session to the world, no pressure to keep up the facade that was D.Mon to the world. Yuna…wasn’t like Hana. She wasn’t as hyped as her when the Korean Army decided to recruit them, nor was she as confident in her ability to lead the team, to get them in and out of missions safely.

D.Mon had to be all of those.

Where the line between D.Va and Hana didn’t exist, there was a brick wall between D.Mon and Yuna.

And maybe that was why she had utterly failed in that initial test. D.Mon was prepared to win, prepared for any eventuality that they may have come across. Until she wasn’t, and D.Mon got left in the dust, only for Yuna to take the reins.

…Maybe Hana really should be the leader of MEKA Squad…

The heavy steel doors of the simulation room hissed open before Yuna could spiral any further into her own head.

The space felt massive without the glaring lights of the broadcasting equipment and the chaotic chatter of the production crew. Standing near the primary control console was the Overwatch strike team.

"Archer! I brought your little protégés-to-be!"

Archer didn't even flinch at the overly sweet tone. He merely crossed his arms, his white hair catching the ambient blue light of the screens. He looked exactly the same as he had during the simulation, completely unbothered, save for a raised eyebrow.

"I don't take protégés," Archer said, "And if I did, it wouldn't be because you dumped them in my lap."

"Aww, don't be like that!" Kiara pouted, drifting closer to him and doing a mid-air twirl, "They just got yelled at by the mean lady in charge. They need a proper teacher before they lose all that youthful motivation."

Yuna felt her face flush hot. It was one thing to be reprimanded in private, but having their failure broadcasted to the seasoned veterans of Overwatch was humiliating. She avoided making eye contact with any of them. Lena offered a sympathetic wince from where she was leaning against Winston, while Genji simply tilted his head, his featureless visor giving nothing away.

"You do realize I'm not even in charge here, right?"

"Gasp!" Kiara actually said the word itself out loud, "You mean to tell me Overwatch doesn't respect their seniors?! For shame!"

"If that were the case, wouldn't you be-"

"One more word and I'm gonna make you regret it."

Archer snorted as he rolled his eyes, "You mean to tell me that it's fine for you to say that, but not me?"

"Rules for thee, not for me, tee-hee!" Kiara put a fist to her head as she did so.

Archer sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He didn't even bother arguing the point, choosing instead to turn his attention away from the digital girl and focus entirely on the five teenagers standing awkwardly near the door.

Yuna instinctively straightened her posture. Beside her, Jae-eun and Seung-hwa did the same, their military discipline momentarily overriding their exhaustion.

"Right, then." Lena clapped her hands together, pushing off the console to break the lingering tension, "Since we're all here, we might as well get down to business. Kiara wasn't completely wrong, you know. You lot got a raw deal out there."

"You were overwhelmed." Winston added in a gentle rumble, adjusting his glasses, "The parameters of that giant...entity far exceeded anything your mechs were equipped to handle. Statistically, a tactical retreat was your only viable option."

"Except retreat isn't in their playbook," Archer interrupted. His gaze locked onto Yuna, steel-gray and assessing. "You five treated this as a game. You expected a balanced match, you expected a designated weak point, a fair fight, a boss battle." Kyung-soo had the decency to look ashamed at that one, "Today, you learned that an actual battlefield doesn't care about any of that."

Yuna bit the inside of her cheek. The words stung, mostly because they were entirely accurate. D.Mon knew how to exploit game mechanics and rally a team toward a guaranteed win-condition. But Yuna didn't know how to lead a squad through a hopeless situation.

“Easy for you to say.” Hana scoffed at them, “Whatever you did practically one-shot that giant. If we had what you had, we would have been just fine.”

‘Dammit Hana.’

Yuna wanted to reach over and clamp a hand over the other girl's mouth, but the damage was already done.

Archer didn't bristle at the disrespect. Instead, a slow, humorless smile crept onto his face. It was the kind of expression that made Yuna’s finely tuned gamer instincts scream at her to find cover.

"Is that what you think?" Archer asked. He uncrossed his arms and took a slow step toward the control console. "You think pulling a bigger trigger is the only difference between victory and death? That if you just had higher stats, your formation wouldn't have shattered?"

"I'm just saying," Hana stood her ground, though she crossed her arms defensively, "It's easy to preach about the reality of the battlefield when you're carrying the biggest stick in the room in your back pocket."

"Fair enough." Archer stopped at the terminal and typed a rapid sequence of commands. The floor beneath them shuddered as the room's holographic projectors whirred to life.

The sterile white walls of the simulator dissolved, replaced instantly by, of all things, a dojang. There was the familiar matting under their shoes, the faint scent of polished wood, and the soft, ambient lighting of a traditional Korean training hall. In the middle was a fairly sizable square, demarcateed by white strips of tape. 

Archer stepped into the square as his coat shimmered, before disappearing (Yuna didn't know that the simulator could do that?). A wooden sword appeared in his hand. He held it loosely, and Yuna could see a pattern of black and yellow all over it, almost like the stripes of a tiger.

For some reason, she could feel an aura of dread develop around all of them. This wasn't helped by Tracer's wince and Genji clasping his hands in prayer towards them.

"D.Va, you're up first."

"What? You can't expect me to-"

"You pilot a state-of-the-art walking tank equipped with twin fusion cannons. I am an unarmored man holding a piece of carved bamboo. Are the stats not in your favor?"

Hana opened her mouth to argue, then snapped it shut. Her competitive streak, the very thing that made her a world champion, flared to life. She puffed out her cheeks and marched over the white tape line.

"I don't even have a weapon." Hana pointed out, settling into a loose, haphazard fighting stance.

"Then take this one from me." Archer offered, holding the tiger-striped sword out lazily.

Yuna watched Hana process the challenge. In any game, rushing an armed opponent bare-handed was a guaranteed game over. But Hana was ridiculously fast. She had the highest actions-per-minute in their squad, her reflexes honed to absolute perfection. With a sudden shout, Hana lunged. She feinted left, dropping her shoulder to dive straight for Archer's extended wrist.

A sharp, resounding thwack echoed through the simulated dojang.

Hana yelped, stumbling forward and clamping both hands over her forehead. Archer had merely adjusted his grip, letting Hana's own reckless momentum carry her face-first into the blunt tip of the bamboo.

"Again."

Yuna and the rest of the team could only grimace as Hana’s infamous temper flared to life. This was going to be painful to watch. 

The pilot could only hope it wasn’t as painful to experience.

…

A/N: Actual serious note here. So, as some of you may remember, I was let go from my work a while back. Well, I've been applying a lot, and just today, I did an interview with some promising results. Now, I don't want to count my chickens before they hatch, but if I do happen to land this job, I may have to scale back the upload frequency. As much as I appreciate the support you guys have given me over the years, and no matter how much I wish that this was my full-time job, I still gotta eat. 

Hopefully, I'll be able to keep up. I can't promise anything though.

Once again, thank you for all your support. I may not reply as much as some would like, but know that I really do appreciate it.