Overwatch: Fallen Angel. (Mercy One-shot.)

Fallen Angel

(Put the music on loop, for the duration of this story.)

Silence.

Is all the sound in the world to someone who has lost Hope.

A deafening silence, as much as she knew it were impossible.

The battlefield around her lay in ruin, buildings having been torn asunder and the ground no longer smooth, but instead jagged and uneven as the rain pours from the Heavens that she is most notably thought to have come from.

She never denied it, why would she?

It gave others Hope when they had none.

She healed those that had been caught among the ruble of the wars of the world.

And silently mourned for the people who travelled into the howling dark. And did not return.

Soldier and Civilian alike.

Yet it still drove her forward, determined to save all she could.

She did not realise how childish it all would've seemed to the outside looking in.

But she did not care.

She would work tirelessly throughout her days and nights, despite the both blurring together as the same colour in her fluid memory.

It wasn't until the day she treated a boy no younger than herself did she feel anything but the constant drive to help who she found.

She learned to slow down.

"Take a breath, Angela, here, drink."She smiled sadly at the memory, the day the raven haired boy first made her a perfect coffee.

She remembered the times they shared despite being distant at certain points, they still maintained it to this very day...but the day after...

Her crystal blue eyes lit up faintly as she took a look at everything around her.

Or what was left of it.

Tears threatened to leave her eyes as she fell to her knees, defeated, tempest struck.

She blinked once, twice, thrice. But the scene before her refused to do anything other than carve itself into her mind.

And with the first tear shed, she began to cry.

A river of sorrow will be sung silently as her vocal cords strained from the sound you would expect from a choir poured not only from herself, but the Heavens she had been known to come from.

"I-I'm...s-so, so s-sorry..." She barely whispered, feeling nothing the crushing demand of defeat.

Not feeling of her own warm tears drifting down her cheeks, nor the cold prick of her sisters in the skies raining down to her still body.

She barely looked up to the individuals armoured in black, her own white and gold outfit, shinning brighter by comparison.

The red gleam of Deaths fingers pointing at her, the accused.

She couldn't speak, neither did she have anything to say, with nothing to defend herself for, or against, kneeling before Death's Hand willingly to accept herself into his arms.

A flower that will wilt in its final breath.

However, when she see's a yellow glowing orb sitting in front of her, flickering like a flame.