The thunder roared outside the University. Undaunted, Mercy crept carefully along the dimmed and foreboding halls of her old college. The carpets muffled her cautious footsteps. Billboards, pictures, and posters revealed themselves as the blue light from Mercy’s staff provided the only source of illumination. But she refused to be distracted by these advertisements of a simpler time; future events and medical organizations were moot. Her shifty eyes stayed alert and scanned the abyss in front of her.
The hallway opened up into an abandoned lobby area. The blue light sprawled out now that it was no longer confined to a tiny hallway. Mercy quickly turned to each side to get a better look at her surroundings. Empty tables and chairs littered the place. Some upright, some knocked prone. A set of stairs jutted out from the far end of the lobby ascending and descending to different floors. Adjacent to the stairs was an ominous-looking elevator. Mercy approached and tapped the call buttons. Sure enough, the elevator was offline.
One foot after another, Mercy descended down the stairs to the lower floor. The tiled staircase echoed as her armored boots struck them.
Click. Click. Click.
Before she joined the hospital staff, Mercy worked as an Adjunct Lecturer from time to time at the University. Room 333 was her main classroom for most of her tenure. Junior and Trey, her adopted brothers, liked to leave little notes—and pranks—in this room. Since Junior did not evacuate to Geneva, she could see him using the room for whatever this “remnant group” was up to. Or maybe the group left something there for her to find.
Click. Click. Click.
Mercy scrunched her face. Something felt unusual here—more than she expected. The echo made by her boots seemed...off. As if the sounds weren’t actually made by her. Her paranoia got the best of her as she reached the bottom of the staircase. As she descended the final step, she grabbed the railing and pretended to land on the ground casually, but kept her foot hovering slightly off the tile.
Click.
Mercy stood frozen in place.
She was not alone...
Her raised foot slowly rested on the new floor. She cautiously kept walking, hiding the additional information she uncovered. She still rotated and looked around, trying to find her stalker. Unfortunately, the indigo light only extended so far.
With a bit more haste and angst in her soul, Mercy made her way to a set of classrooms. 327. 329. 331. Mercy stood at the unassuming door of 333. Memories tried to blossom, but she suppressed them and focused on her current mission. The door creaked loudly as she opened it in a leery manner.
After giving one more look behind her to try and find her mysterious watcher, she entered her old abode.
To anyone else, this would simply be a generic Biology classroom: desks, a board to write on, and some microscopes in the back. But to Mercy, many days of important learning and research occurred here. Despite lacking any kind of personal charm, it still felt like she was back at work, ready to grade papers, give a lecture, of fall for one of her brothers’ pranks in front of her students.
The white board had many things scrawled on its face, so much so that Mercy had trouble finding a starting point. Nothing seemed connected. One part listed out areas to get supplies from, then immediately went to list of remaining people and their contact information, then suddenly switched to crude drawings of some strategies.
“What horrible and disorganized note-taking skills,” thought Mercy.
Eventually, her eyes discovered a bit of helpful information. Listed out was some types of Omnics in the city, “Null troopers, OR-14, Bastion, Winged Leader?” Next to this list were the words “NOT MANY”, perhaps implying that there weren’t many Omnic forces about, which explained the empty streets.
Mercy paused with the words “Winged Leader.” There weren’t any flying Omnics that she was aware of...
An arrow was connected to it and it traveled to another area where the name “Marcion” was written. Mercy’s eyes opened wide. She was familiar with this Omnic! He was a prisoner at the Overwatch Swiss Base in Geneva—before it was destroyed. As head-physician, she checked in on him occasionally.
He was a rather intimidating, yet confident Omnic. His robotic frame looked very much like the skeletal structure of a human, yet his face was comprised of 2 rows of 3 lights. No mouth, no nose, no ears, just 6 bulbs of light.
She remembered one time when she went to check his vitals. As she approached with her soft smile, he looked up from his solid glass cell with disdain.
“Oh, it’s only you,” he grumbled. “Why can't your assistant do these check-ups? She’s much better company.”
“Moira?” Mercy had corrected. “She’s not my assistant. She’s Head of--. Why do you prefer talking with her?”
Marcion leaned against the glass between them. “Well, for starters, she doesn’t have her head in the clouds.”
Mercy rolled her eyes and gave an innocent look to the captive. “Why are you so hostile toward me? I’ve been nothing but kind to you. I’ve treated you like every other patient I’ve ever had.”
“You treat me like a human...” Marcion concluded.
“Well, as someone who has studied human anatomy and psyche for most of my life, I hate to tell you that there are more similarities between us than--”
“And as someone who was made by humans, trusted in humans, looked up to humans for so long, I hate to tell you that your kind is far more depraved than you think, Doctor.”
The two stood in silence for a bit, before Mercy began holding up equipment to the window and checking Marcion’s vital signs and documenting them on a computer tablet.
Eventually Marcion continued. “I used to have heroes I called my own. Can you believe that, Doctor? I had people I looked up to and strived to mimic through my own actions. But all of them—every single one—let me down. The algorithms in my head started sensing a pattern. They were all just too...”
Marcion stared back into Mercy’s eyes.
“...Human.” The word dripped with cold hatred.
“And that failure undoes all the good those heroes did?” Mercy countered, as she continued her examination.
“What good?” Marcion concluded. “I keep seeing humans flock to these flawed heroes, thinking this next one will be different. But virtues fade, promises shatter, hearts break, and society calls for their damnation. Then the next hero rises up and claims to be better than the last. The cycle repeats. Can you not see the reason why these heroes constantly fail? It is because they are simply trying to fight the depravity of humanity—a fight that is impossible for a human to accomplish. Are you not tired of this endless game? The only way forward is judgment.”
Mercy held her ground. “’Judgment is without mercy to one who has shown no mercy. Mercy triumphs over judgment.’”
“Not my judgment.”
Mercy gave a big sigh. “And that’s why you are in jail.” She finished her analysis and started packing everything up. “I am truly sorry you feel that way.”
With that, she started walking away. To her, the conversation was done.
But Marcion called after her. “It is said that Overwatch consists of the best humanity has to offer. Like all other heroes before, it will fail to reach the heights you want it to. Same goes for you, Doctor. You will fail to be the angel you want people to see you as. I only hope that you are on the ground when you are stripped of your wings.”
Mercy’s mind returned to the present. So Marcion escaped the Overwatch base! And, if he has wings now, he might be the one who took her old Valkyrie suit! Did he have a vendetta against her? Is that why he is using her equipment and attacking her home?
But did he know of her adopted family? Did he know that Junior stayed behind?
A large crack of thunder rumbled through the empty halls and the rain battered the building’s exterior. Mercy kept one ear opened for her stalker friend, but no other noise seemed out of the ordinary.
She opened a few drawers of the desk and began looking around for more information. The light of her staff came across nothing but empty drawers initially. The final drawer she opened was the bottom right of the desk. As she pulled it out, she noticed a colored picture of herself in her Valkyrie suit in the air healing a little girl on the ground. On the back of the paper was a message in black crayon. Mercy switched to her golden beam to remove the blue tint from this strange find. It read:
DEAR MERCY!
HELLO. HOW ARE YOU? MY NAME IS JOY. YOU HELPED MY MOM BEFORE YOU BECAME AN ANGEL. MOM SAYS YOU ARE NOW TO BUSY DOING ANGEL THINGS AND FORGOT ABOUT US. PASTER JUNIOR SAYS ANGELS DO NOT FORGET ANY THING! I DO NOT KNOW. CAN YOU COME HOME AND FIGHT SCARY ROBOT? HE FLIES AT NIGHT AND HE SCARES ME.
AMEN,
-JOY
Below the child’s handwriting was a cursive scrawl reminiscent of Junior’s style that said, “Our Guardian Angel.” Behind the letter was a recording device. Unfortunately, the screen was partly cracked and refused to show anything. Mercy simply hit play and heard some static for a bit before it clicked to a halt. She tinkered with the device, hoping to replay the message from the beginning.
The inception of the message ringed with static until she heard a female’s voice.
“What’s today? Thursday, right?”
“I don’t know anymore,” Junior grumbled.
“We’ll go with Thursday.” The woman cleared her throat. “Thursday, Uh, what’s the date?"
“Must we be so formal with these?”
“My family has lived in Zurich since World War II. If this is to be its end, then I want its final moments documented.”
“You’re overreacting, Faith.” Junior concluded. “The city is not being destroyed. Actually, it kind of feels like we evacuated everyone to Geneva for no reason.”
“But there was a reason,” another familiar voice shot back. “We had reason to believe Omnic forces would move from Germany to Zurich. The city decided to evacuate everyone as a precaution. It’s not a well-fortified city, after all.”
Mercy’s eyes widened. The other voice was Trey Sceva, Junior’s little brother. He had joined the Crusaders long before she joined Overwatch. She occasionally asked her friend Reinhardt, another Overwatch agent, about Trey, but Reinhardt lost contact with him after the Battle of Eichenwalde.
Maybe she would have realized he went home had she actually kept in contact...
“But the Omnics never showed up—very few of them, at least!” Junior stated bluntly. “The main bulk of their army went East. All we got was a few Omnics from Null Sector. Hardly a battalion. We've been able to hold off their guerilla attacks for some time now. And plus the Overwatch headquarters in Geneva exploded, so we didn’t exactly get our people out of danger, now did we?”
“Don’t be a fool, brother.” retorted Trey. “Marcion recently joined up with this terrorist group. He is strategically brilliant and will organize this group’s efforts exponentially. The city is in more danger than ever before. I believe if we had everyone stay and fight, then the survivors would number our current headcount in this room. He is not to be underestimated. In fact, he is one of the few Omnics that truly scare me!”
“Wasn’t he locked up?” Faith asked curiously.
“Yes. Marcion was defeated and incarcerated by Overwatch. He must have been at the Geneva base locked away before he joined his small force here.”
“Well, good. I’m glad Overwatch thought of him before blowing their base up and harming further bystanders. The U.N. really just needs to shut them down.”
“That’s not fair, Faith.” Junior argued. “I’m sure they didn’t mean for Marcion to escape.”
“Of course they didn’t! But they don’t watch over anything except themselves! Why should they care about a psychotic Omnic escaping and going to Zurich? Even now, your little goody-two shoes sister decided to talk with the U.N. than come back here.”
“Faith, that’s enough,” Trey shot back. “We get it.”
“No, we don’t, “Junior replied. “Please elaborate, Faith.”
Trey gave an audible groan in the background. “Brother...”
“Instead of hunting down one of her prisoners, she instead makes a power point slide to discuss what happened to Overwatch. She’s probably hoping to become head of Overwatch herself! And plus, where was she when we were evacuating Zurich?” Faith raised her voice in irritation.
“In London. I’m sure you saw the news.”
“Right, when the government asked them not to intervene there, yet they did anyway! Whereas we could have used them here. But no! They choose the more ‘fun’ assignment! It’s all one big publicity stunt—and Angela is soaking it up! She doesn’t care about us ‘little people’ anymore, Pastor Sceva...She forgot about me! She forgot about my daughter! And she forgot about you—both of you!”
A silent tension hung in the air. Mercy looked down at the floor.
“If it were anyone else,” Junior said quietly, “then I might agree with you. But I believe Angela knows the importance of bearing the image of an angel and the responsibility that comes with that.”
A frustrated sigh near the recorder overpowered the speakers for a brief second. It must have come from Faith.
“Tell you what, Pastor Sceva, I will personally contact Doctor Ziegler—again! I will explain the situation—again--and that we need help taking on this Omnic threat. This will be our last hope, so you better pray she actually listens and comes this time.”
“And you better be ready...Agents of Heaven always invade Earth when you least expect it—like thieves in the night.”
“Funny, your father said that when I was little, and I am still waiting for it to be true!” countered Faith.
“Enough, both of you,” Trey interrupted. “In the meantime, what if we play this to our advantage?”
“Play what to our advantage?”
“It’s no secret that Null Sector strongly dislikes and fears Overwatch. Regardless of whether Angela and her team come, we can pretend that we know for a fact they are.”
“So, we’re going to bluff to our enemies that reinforcements are coming?” deduced Faith.
“Not just that they are coming, but that we have direct ties. Any harm that visits us will be returned tenfold should they attack the home of an agent—especially one as renowned as Angela.”
Mercy heard some fingers tap on a table in the recording as the trio contemplated the plan. Eventually, Junior returned his feedback.
“It could make them hesitate long enough for actual reinforcements to show up.”
“And give us time to plan our next move, instead of solely waiting around for a miracle,” Faith added.
“I’ll try and make contact with the Omnic leader, Marcion, and make arrangements for a truce in the hospital,” Trey concluded. “Faith, Good luck on getting your message out."
“That’s the problem, Trey,” Faith grumbled. “I shouldn’t need luck to reach out to the family doctor—let alone someone who I thought was a friend.”
The static from earlier returned until the message abruptly halted.
The hallway opened up into an abandoned lobby area. The blue light sprawled out now that it was no longer confined to a tiny hallway. Mercy quickly turned to each side to get a better look at her surroundings. Empty tables and chairs littered the place. Some upright, some knocked prone. A set of stairs jutted out from the far end of the lobby ascending and descending to different floors. Adjacent to the stairs was an ominous-looking elevator. Mercy approached and tapped the call buttons. Sure enough, the elevator was offline.
One foot after another, Mercy descended down the stairs to the lower floor. The tiled staircase echoed as her armored boots struck them.
Click. Click. Click.
Before she joined the hospital staff, Mercy worked as an Adjunct Lecturer from time to time at the University. Room 333 was her main classroom for most of her tenure. Junior and Trey, her adopted brothers, liked to leave little notes—and pranks—in this room. Since Junior did not evacuate to Geneva, she could see him using the room for whatever this “remnant group” was up to. Or maybe the group left something there for her to find.
Click. Click. Click.
Mercy scrunched her face. Something felt unusual here—more than she expected. The echo made by her boots seemed...off. As if the sounds weren’t actually made by her. Her paranoia got the best of her as she reached the bottom of the staircase. As she descended the final step, she grabbed the railing and pretended to land on the ground casually, but kept her foot hovering slightly off the tile.
Click.
Mercy stood frozen in place.
She was not alone...
Her raised foot slowly rested on the new floor. She cautiously kept walking, hiding the additional information she uncovered. She still rotated and looked around, trying to find her stalker. Unfortunately, the indigo light only extended so far.
With a bit more haste and angst in her soul, Mercy made her way to a set of classrooms. 327. 329. 331. Mercy stood at the unassuming door of 333. Memories tried to blossom, but she suppressed them and focused on her current mission. The door creaked loudly as she opened it in a leery manner.
After giving one more look behind her to try and find her mysterious watcher, she entered her old abode.
To anyone else, this would simply be a generic Biology classroom: desks, a board to write on, and some microscopes in the back. But to Mercy, many days of important learning and research occurred here. Despite lacking any kind of personal charm, it still felt like she was back at work, ready to grade papers, give a lecture, of fall for one of her brothers’ pranks in front of her students.
The white board had many things scrawled on its face, so much so that Mercy had trouble finding a starting point. Nothing seemed connected. One part listed out areas to get supplies from, then immediately went to list of remaining people and their contact information, then suddenly switched to crude drawings of some strategies.
“What horrible and disorganized note-taking skills,” thought Mercy.
Eventually, her eyes discovered a bit of helpful information. Listed out was some types of Omnics in the city, “Null troopers, OR-14, Bastion, Winged Leader?” Next to this list were the words “NOT MANY”, perhaps implying that there weren’t many Omnic forces about, which explained the empty streets.
Mercy paused with the words “Winged Leader.” There weren’t any flying Omnics that she was aware of...
An arrow was connected to it and it traveled to another area where the name “Marcion” was written. Mercy’s eyes opened wide. She was familiar with this Omnic! He was a prisoner at the Overwatch Swiss Base in Geneva—before it was destroyed. As head-physician, she checked in on him occasionally.
He was a rather intimidating, yet confident Omnic. His robotic frame looked very much like the skeletal structure of a human, yet his face was comprised of 2 rows of 3 lights. No mouth, no nose, no ears, just 6 bulbs of light.
She remembered one time when she went to check his vitals. As she approached with her soft smile, he looked up from his solid glass cell with disdain.
“Oh, it’s only you,” he grumbled. “Why can't your assistant do these check-ups? She’s much better company.”
“Moira?” Mercy had corrected. “She’s not my assistant. She’s Head of--. Why do you prefer talking with her?”
Marcion leaned against the glass between them. “Well, for starters, she doesn’t have her head in the clouds.”
Mercy rolled her eyes and gave an innocent look to the captive. “Why are you so hostile toward me? I’ve been nothing but kind to you. I’ve treated you like every other patient I’ve ever had.”
“You treat me like a human...” Marcion concluded.
“Well, as someone who has studied human anatomy and psyche for most of my life, I hate to tell you that there are more similarities between us than--”
“And as someone who was made by humans, trusted in humans, looked up to humans for so long, I hate to tell you that your kind is far more depraved than you think, Doctor.”
The two stood in silence for a bit, before Mercy began holding up equipment to the window and checking Marcion’s vital signs and documenting them on a computer tablet.
Eventually Marcion continued. “I used to have heroes I called my own. Can you believe that, Doctor? I had people I looked up to and strived to mimic through my own actions. But all of them—every single one—let me down. The algorithms in my head started sensing a pattern. They were all just too...”
Marcion stared back into Mercy’s eyes.
“...Human.” The word dripped with cold hatred.
“And that failure undoes all the good those heroes did?” Mercy countered, as she continued her examination.
“What good?” Marcion concluded. “I keep seeing humans flock to these flawed heroes, thinking this next one will be different. But virtues fade, promises shatter, hearts break, and society calls for their damnation. Then the next hero rises up and claims to be better than the last. The cycle repeats. Can you not see the reason why these heroes constantly fail? It is because they are simply trying to fight the depravity of humanity—a fight that is impossible for a human to accomplish. Are you not tired of this endless game? The only way forward is judgment.”
Mercy held her ground. “’Judgment is without mercy to one who has shown no mercy. Mercy triumphs over judgment.’”
“Not my judgment.”
Mercy gave a big sigh. “And that’s why you are in jail.” She finished her analysis and started packing everything up. “I am truly sorry you feel that way.”
With that, she started walking away. To her, the conversation was done.
But Marcion called after her. “It is said that Overwatch consists of the best humanity has to offer. Like all other heroes before, it will fail to reach the heights you want it to. Same goes for you, Doctor. You will fail to be the angel you want people to see you as. I only hope that you are on the ground when you are stripped of your wings.”
Mercy’s mind returned to the present. So Marcion escaped the Overwatch base! And, if he has wings now, he might be the one who took her old Valkyrie suit! Did he have a vendetta against her? Is that why he is using her equipment and attacking her home?
But did he know of her adopted family? Did he know that Junior stayed behind?
A large crack of thunder rumbled through the empty halls and the rain battered the building’s exterior. Mercy kept one ear opened for her stalker friend, but no other noise seemed out of the ordinary.
She opened a few drawers of the desk and began looking around for more information. The light of her staff came across nothing but empty drawers initially. The final drawer she opened was the bottom right of the desk. As she pulled it out, she noticed a colored picture of herself in her Valkyrie suit in the air healing a little girl on the ground. On the back of the paper was a message in black crayon. Mercy switched to her golden beam to remove the blue tint from this strange find. It read:
DEAR MERCY!
HELLO. HOW ARE YOU? MY NAME IS JOY. YOU HELPED MY MOM BEFORE YOU BECAME AN ANGEL. MOM SAYS YOU ARE NOW TO BUSY DOING ANGEL THINGS AND FORGOT ABOUT US. PASTER JUNIOR SAYS ANGELS DO NOT FORGET ANY THING! I DO NOT KNOW. CAN YOU COME HOME AND FIGHT SCARY ROBOT? HE FLIES AT NIGHT AND HE SCARES ME.
AMEN,
-JOY
Below the child’s handwriting was a cursive scrawl reminiscent of Junior’s style that said, “Our Guardian Angel.” Behind the letter was a recording device. Unfortunately, the screen was partly cracked and refused to show anything. Mercy simply hit play and heard some static for a bit before it clicked to a halt. She tinkered with the device, hoping to replay the message from the beginning.
The inception of the message ringed with static until she heard a female’s voice.
“What’s today? Thursday, right?”
“I don’t know anymore,” Junior grumbled.
“We’ll go with Thursday.” The woman cleared her throat. “Thursday, Uh, what’s the date?"
“Must we be so formal with these?”
“My family has lived in Zurich since World War II. If this is to be its end, then I want its final moments documented.”
“You’re overreacting, Faith.” Junior concluded. “The city is not being destroyed. Actually, it kind of feels like we evacuated everyone to Geneva for no reason.”
“But there was a reason,” another familiar voice shot back. “We had reason to believe Omnic forces would move from Germany to Zurich. The city decided to evacuate everyone as a precaution. It’s not a well-fortified city, after all.”
Mercy’s eyes widened. The other voice was Trey Sceva, Junior’s little brother. He had joined the Crusaders long before she joined Overwatch. She occasionally asked her friend Reinhardt, another Overwatch agent, about Trey, but Reinhardt lost contact with him after the Battle of Eichenwalde.
Maybe she would have realized he went home had she actually kept in contact...
“But the Omnics never showed up—very few of them, at least!” Junior stated bluntly. “The main bulk of their army went East. All we got was a few Omnics from Null Sector. Hardly a battalion. We've been able to hold off their guerilla attacks for some time now. And plus the Overwatch headquarters in Geneva exploded, so we didn’t exactly get our people out of danger, now did we?”
“Don’t be a fool, brother.” retorted Trey. “Marcion recently joined up with this terrorist group. He is strategically brilliant and will organize this group’s efforts exponentially. The city is in more danger than ever before. I believe if we had everyone stay and fight, then the survivors would number our current headcount in this room. He is not to be underestimated. In fact, he is one of the few Omnics that truly scare me!”
“Wasn’t he locked up?” Faith asked curiously.
“Yes. Marcion was defeated and incarcerated by Overwatch. He must have been at the Geneva base locked away before he joined his small force here.”
“Well, good. I’m glad Overwatch thought of him before blowing their base up and harming further bystanders. The U.N. really just needs to shut them down.”
“That’s not fair, Faith.” Junior argued. “I’m sure they didn’t mean for Marcion to escape.”
“Of course they didn’t! But they don’t watch over anything except themselves! Why should they care about a psychotic Omnic escaping and going to Zurich? Even now, your little goody-two shoes sister decided to talk with the U.N. than come back here.”
“Faith, that’s enough,” Trey shot back. “We get it.”
“No, we don’t, “Junior replied. “Please elaborate, Faith.”
Trey gave an audible groan in the background. “Brother...”
“Instead of hunting down one of her prisoners, she instead makes a power point slide to discuss what happened to Overwatch. She’s probably hoping to become head of Overwatch herself! And plus, where was she when we were evacuating Zurich?” Faith raised her voice in irritation.
“In London. I’m sure you saw the news.”
“Right, when the government asked them not to intervene there, yet they did anyway! Whereas we could have used them here. But no! They choose the more ‘fun’ assignment! It’s all one big publicity stunt—and Angela is soaking it up! She doesn’t care about us ‘little people’ anymore, Pastor Sceva...She forgot about me! She forgot about my daughter! And she forgot about you—both of you!”
A silent tension hung in the air. Mercy looked down at the floor.
“If it were anyone else,” Junior said quietly, “then I might agree with you. But I believe Angela knows the importance of bearing the image of an angel and the responsibility that comes with that.”
A frustrated sigh near the recorder overpowered the speakers for a brief second. It must have come from Faith.
“Tell you what, Pastor Sceva, I will personally contact Doctor Ziegler—again! I will explain the situation—again--and that we need help taking on this Omnic threat. This will be our last hope, so you better pray she actually listens and comes this time.”
“And you better be ready...Agents of Heaven always invade Earth when you least expect it—like thieves in the night.”
“Funny, your father said that when I was little, and I am still waiting for it to be true!” countered Faith.
“Enough, both of you,” Trey interrupted. “In the meantime, what if we play this to our advantage?”
“Play what to our advantage?”
“It’s no secret that Null Sector strongly dislikes and fears Overwatch. Regardless of whether Angela and her team come, we can pretend that we know for a fact they are.”
“So, we’re going to bluff to our enemies that reinforcements are coming?” deduced Faith.
“Not just that they are coming, but that we have direct ties. Any harm that visits us will be returned tenfold should they attack the home of an agent—especially one as renowned as Angela.”
Mercy heard some fingers tap on a table in the recording as the trio contemplated the plan. Eventually, Junior returned his feedback.
“It could make them hesitate long enough for actual reinforcements to show up.”
“And give us time to plan our next move, instead of solely waiting around for a miracle,” Faith added.
“I’ll try and make contact with the Omnic leader, Marcion, and make arrangements for a truce in the hospital,” Trey concluded. “Faith, Good luck on getting your message out."
“That’s the problem, Trey,” Faith grumbled. “I shouldn’t need luck to reach out to the family doctor—let alone someone who I thought was a friend.”
The static from earlier returned until the message abruptly halted.