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It’s 3 am and Hana can’t sleep. She stayed up too late playing games—escaping into the blissful virtual world. Once she musters up the self-control to pull herself away from her screen and try to get ready for bed, her brain is too lively from the hours of stimulation. Too tired to play a game without being useless, but not exhausted enough to pass out, she heads towards the communal kitchen to make herself a cup of tea and mindlessly scroll through her tablet until she can’t keep her eyes open any longer.
She finds herself—in the way that bad decisions always seem to be all too present in the mute hours of the night—typing her name into a search engine and scrolling through the latest news articles written about her. When in the military, most articles about her were positive. Korea never failed to paint her in the most positive light they could, even if it was at the cost of her teammates. She was theirs, and they had much power. Ever since she joined Overwatch, the public opinion shifted. People felt betrayed when she left MEKA. She almost feels bad with her joining bringing even more scrutiny to the organization.
The framing of the news reportings and opinion pieces are all much the same, and Hana wonders what the point is of having so many supposedly different news organizations when they are all serving the same powers. The same purposes.
“Hana Song Leaves MEKA for Organization Previously Clouded in Corruption.”
“Overwatch Back Together: Why Not Let the Military Do its Job?”
“Ex-Soldier Speaks out Against Hana Song Leaving MEKA.”
“MEKA Without Hana Song—Better Than Ever.”
“Hana Song Spotted on First Mission with New Overwatch.”
Hana clicks on that last article, curious what glimpses the media managed to get of the mission. She doesn’t recall many civilians having been around, but she supposes the media was probably on those few like flies to honey. Even if not, they aren’t above making up what they wish, she has learned.
It gives a fairly accurate rundown of the events—a small group of agents intercepting an attempted arms deal with Null Sector. The eye witness report leaves a lump in Hana’s throat. She’s used to being under public scrutiny, but this is something else. The article claims a witness described her as looking worn and unenthused. Speculates she is not getting along with Overwatch so easily, that she does not seem to have the same spark she did back in MEKA. Wrong. She had been so happy that day to be working for a group she truly believed in. Never had she felt so hopeful and like she belonged.
When she gets to the comment section at the bottom, she can’t help but skim it. She knows looking at comment sections is a self-harm worse than searching up her own name, but she isn’t in a place to have self-control right now. Now, she’s hungry for more opinions on her based off of half-truths.
Thankfully, most of the comments are simply about Overwatch or Null Sector. One commenter claims Overwatch needs to let actual professionals deal with the threats. Another comments on how fruitless intercepting a single arms deal with Null Sector is, how Overwatch is useless. Her breath catches when she gets to one about her.
>>>"I feel bad for the kid. I’m glad she’s getting away from the military. I just hope Overwatch doesn’t subject her to the same exploitation.”
Exploitation.
Exploitation.
The word sits heavy in her mind. The light of her screen is too bright despite the brightness being turned down all the way, blue light filter on as orange as it will go. She can’t tear her eyes away from it, though. Exploitation.
She knows she was exploited. She was used by her country. A piece of propaganda, and a vessel to carry out her country’s goals, no matter how seedy.
It’s a reality Hana has only recently come to understand. At first, she loved MEKA. She felt important and valued. It was a joy to be able to carry out her country’s mandatory military service in such a special way that reflected her niche skills. But then she realized reportings about her—official and otherwise—were always filled with half-truths. They rarely accurately reported on her injuries, if at all. She was painted as some gifted soldier whose abilities were above those of the rest of her crew—untrue. Korea used her sunny disposition and youth to make the military seem like a fun, desirable place to be. She stood by and watched as they constantly reported their skirmishes as being much easier than they were. They never downplayed the threat of the enemies, but always made the military seem much more resilient than they are.
As time went on, and she thought about it more, she became more uncomfortable with how her image was being used. Not just that, but the goals of the military too. Hana couldn’t count the number of times they commanded them to storm an area despite civilian presence simply because it was more convenient and cost-effective. She feels deplorable.
Someone gently pads into the kitchen and stops in the doorway for a moment before flicking on the bright overhead light. She doesn’t react. Anyone also up at this hour probably doesn’t want to be acknowledged. Company can be nice, but so can being left to stew in your own problems. The latter is much easier.
The footsteps head towards the cabinets, flicking on the small light above the counters, then moving to turn off the big overhead light. Thank god. She hears them going through the motions of making tea, too. The amount of Overwatch’s budget that goes towards tea must be obscene.
The footsteps get closer and the chair beside her is gently pulled out so the stranger in the kitchen can sit in it. Hana flicks her eyes up, surprised someone is wanting to chat at this hour—especially with someone sitting alone in the dark like her. She’s even more surprised to see Hanzo next to her, looking at her with what she wants to describe as a shy look. She’s never seen him look this small before.
“May I have a look?” Hanzo asks, voice low and steady. He nods to her tablet and places his cup of tea on the table.
Hana doesn’t know Hanzo very well, nor do many people here. She’s a fresh face, but he even fresher. She hasn’t seen him around base much, but from what she has seen he is polite and keeps to himself. His past is dark—that much she knows—but whose past here isn’t?
She slides the tablet over to him, face up, still open on the thread pitying her.
Hanzo delicately picks the tablet up and his eyes scan the page. He scrolls up and skims the article before scrolling back down. He puts the tablet back on the table and picks up his mug, taking a sip.
“Do you fear Overwatch will take advantage of you?” Hanzo asks, voice careful, eyes tentatively searching her face.
Hana looks down and picks at her fingernails. She wants to say no, but that’s also what she said about MEKA in the beginning. Overwatch’s current form is still so new, as is her being part of the team. She knows some old members felt betrayed by the organization, though she’s not heard many details, just whisperings of it. But that was old Overwatch, and Winston has been so adamant that things will be different this time. Better.
“No,” Hana says, the word being all she can offer amidst her storm of thoughts.
She can feel Hanzo continue to search her face. “I, too, was exploited when I was your age,” Hanzo says, words coming out slowly. “By my family.”
This gets her to look up. She meets his gaze. She considers what little she does know about him: ex-yakuza, cold family, forced to kill his brother. Probably not an obnoxious attempt to downplay her issues, then.
“Were you?”
“Yes,” he nods. “My entire youth—and beyond that—I was treated by the people around me as a tool for them to shape and use to their advantage, rather than treated as a human. I was groomed, I suppose, is the most appropriate way to put it.”
Hana prods him for more information, and he indulges her. He tells her about everything from the harsh training he endured, to the cruel punishments. How he was so convinced that was the only way life could be and that he was so lucky to be in his position, despite how little real joy he experienced. Decades of life stolen by a group of people devoid of morals who cared little for him as a person.
Despite the dark subject, Hanzo’s voice remains steady. Hana is awestruck at how well he holds himself. She supposes this too is a product of what his clan had done to him, though. Suppressing emotions. Letting nothing from the inside seep out.
“I know how shameful it can feel to realize you have been controlled. It has made me feel very weak to think back on what has been done to me,” Hanzo says after he is finished retelling his past. His hands tightly grip his cup.
Hana swallows hard. She’s pained for his story, but relieved someone understands how pitiful she feels. “It is hard. They knew I was vulnerable and they took advantage of it… acting like they were doing me a huge favor through it all. It’s humiliating.” Hana runs a hand through her hair. It’s getting greasy; she needs to shower. “I shudder thinking about all the times I thanked them for it all.”
“It is amazing how easily people can falsely convince you they are working in your best interest instead of theirs.”
“I feel so weak because of it all,” Hana says, letting out a shaky breath. She knows she won’t cry, but she can never stop her voice from wobbling when upset.
“You are not weak.” Hanzo shakes his head. “The masses have been against you. It is hard for the truth to be realized among that. But you have realized, and already after so little time.”
It’s true. Her parents told her that joining the military was for a good cause, that she would be a hero. Her friends said the same. As did the recruiters. Her teammates, her commanders, politicians. They hailed her heroism, even in times where she was not a hero. Even in times where she had secretly been commanded to take the easier route, even when it meant harming civilians. When she has tried to voice her concerns, people tell her to take it easy. Her country knows what it’s doing. They’re experienced.
“I’ve had so few people listen to my concerns.”
“I will listen. If you are comfortable.”
“Of course.”
And so Hana tells him all about her experiences with MEKA, with her country. How she does not think they value omnic life, how they do not care for their soldiers as well as they could, and how they will act carelessly if it is convenient. She divulges how often her status is lied about to the public. Hanzo is a good listener: he maintains steady eye contact and intersperses nods to show he is following along. His eyebrows knit when she tells him something particularly damning. When she finishes, she can see true anger in Hanzo’s eyes, and she feels validated.
“I know my words will not speak as loud as how reality unfolds, but I truly believe Overwatch will be better. Is better.” Hanzo sips the last of his tea and pushes the mug to the side. “I was sure my answer was no when my brother first invited me to join Overwatch. I was unimpressed by what I knew about their previous form; how things had fallen apart. But he kept prodding me about it, and I did much of my own research. With its current members and the changes Winston has made to account for the lessons of the past, I have faith this organization can truly be a just one.”
“It’s been hard with the way the public has framed Overwatch. There’s so little nuance. And then, since I idolized them so much as a child, I worry that is coming through too strongly and clouding my judgement. That maybe the public is right, is seeing something I am not. But you are right, I think. Winston is intent on doing good, and there have been a lot of lessons learned.” Hana and Hanzo share a hopeful smile—it’s an expression Hana has never seen on Hanzo before. Maybe this conversation brought needed reassurance for both of them. “Actually, Overwatch being good—better than the military, at least—has already shown itself to me. In the way they give us privacy, or have genuine mental health resources for us. Not just crowded barracks or a cramped room that barely fits a single bed. Not just pamphlets or offerings of a therapist whose soonest availability is months away.”
Hanzo seems to pull back into his thoughts and toys with the tag on his teabag. “I do not think I have heard much of the mental health resources Overwatch has to offer. They are good?”
“Yes,” Hana says, trying to hide the way her stomach flips at the realization that this man has gone decades without much needed help. But it now is in his grasp. “Dr. Ziegler can provide more information, but they will cover all costs and transportation needed to see a therapist. Or any other professional or medical need.”
“I see.” Hanzo has folded the tag as many times as it will possibly fold.
“I have her hooking me up with a therapist and she should be getting back to me about it all soon. I can give you all the details about how it all goes, if you want.”
Hanzo nods despite the unsure smile on his lips.
“I’ll keep you updated, then.” Hana sighs, relieved and feeling less pathetic knowing she is helping him too. She felt so small just a few minutes ago, but now she thinks maybe her weakness is not so extraordinary. “Winston sees the humanity in all of us. We aren’t just assets to him,” she says, not sure if it’s to him or herself. Overwatch is new, and there is no way to be sure that things will turn out well, but the way things have turned out so far says enough for Hana to feel at peace with her place here at the moment.
“He may be idealistic, but he is careful and uses his heart well.”
There’s a lull in the conversation as they both let the thoughts settle in. Hanzo picks up both of their tea mugs, rinsing them out then placing them in the dishwasher. It’s empty now but come breakfast time it will be full and ready for a cycle. Hana closes the article and tries to nail it in her brain to stop looking up her name online. She’ll have to think of ways to occupy herself when her brain gnaws at her to do it. Hanzo settles back into his seat and Hana is glad he isn’t leaving yet. She’s still not tired and now her brain is racing with a herd of new thoughts. She can tell his is, too, with the way his eyebrows are furrowed, mouth trying to form words. “I know we do not know each other well, but I am here for you as you adjust to Overwatch. I will let you know if I ever find anything to be off, and I will have your back should you be unsure about something.” Hanzo finally formulates what to say.
Hana grins wider than she has all week, and an unsettled flame that she did not know was still within her sizzles out. She offers him the same.
They spend another hour talking before heading off to bed. They share more about what parts of Overwatch they appreciate, and share more bits and pieces about their lives. It still takes Hana a while to fall asleep once she’s in bed, but this time it’s because her brain is lively with hope for Overwatch and her new friendship.