move, rip, repeat

chapter one - you really shouldn't sneeze

He slows as he nears his destination, quickly scanning the surrounding area. No signs of unnatural movement. Yet he knew he that could not be right. They had really outdone themselves this time.

Giving a signal to the person following closely behind him, he continued forward, feet careful and silent. Who knew what the others coming to the point may bring straggling behind. Perhaps even the invitation itself was an ambush in the waiting—but that didn't seem to be the case. Unfortunately, the only way to cement that answer was to move on; and after all, a student should not keep his master waiting any longer than he should be.

Creeping forward, he bent his knees, keeping his stance light but with a slight bounce. He needed to be ready to move at any second. As he approached a doorway, he noted that the door itself, while it had been long gone, a few of the broken hinges remained. Gingerly peering in, he could make out that it was a single room building, a warehouse, in the darkness. Perhaps an old hideout.

Stance still on the defensive, he entered. The air inside was old, musty—dead air. Air that was not used to being breathed, air a person could find in places that were no longer visited. His eyes steadily inspected what his quick glance inside could not. Metal crates were scattered, sizes varying, but were all presumably empty. A single patch of sunlight beamed through a hole in the ceiling and he could see the particles of dust dancing around in the light. Someone was here.

As if responding to his thoughts, a sneeze rang out from the opposite side of the room. He rolled his shuriken into his hand, wary but smart enough not to attack blindly. It would make for a horrible first impression on those that were joining again, but nobody could be too careful. Peeking out from one of the large metal crates, a familiar blue light caught his eyes, but before he could recall from where he knew it from, he felt movement from his left. Someone was advancing towards him and the aura wasn't friendly; it was dangerous. Extremely so. One that called for taking no risks for this.

"Ryuuji no kaioken!"

"Ryuu ga waga teki wo kurau!"

"Ogon po gotovnosti!"

"Dòng zhù, bùxǔ zǒu!"

"Pass into the iris."

He fell back towards his teacher, shurikens still in hand as he continued to dodge the falling debris. It had barely been seconds, yet the warehouse was halfway through collapsing in on itself. Then again, he thought, it is not everyday when a warehouse has to withstand such powerful attacks. Zenyatta followed him silently, as they moved forward through the settling rubble, searching for the origins of the attacks through the remains.

Mei-Ling Zhou was the first he found. As she fell out of her peculiar icicle treatment, he could have sworn that she was mumbling something about seeing an unknown person, but Genji soon had to shove that thought to the back of his mind for later contemplation as he heard swearing explode from a nearby slab of concrete.

Rough Russians words were drawn out and bellowed, making it child's play to identify the source. Aleksandra Zaryanova. No help was necessary from the rest of the party as she shoved off the slab of crumbling concrete that had had her trapped for merely seconds.

Quickly after that, they had found Satya Vaswani, whose quick deducting skills had apparently saved her from being impaled, yet had gotten her leg ensnared under another chunk of concrete.

The dust soon began to settle and as they pulled Symmetra out, their mangled and mismatched party turned to him. He remembered what he had read in the files that Mercy had sent to him about them. The pink haired Russian whose hatred towards Omnics was nearly infamous was checking her weapon, casting glares towards his master. There would be no sign of thanks from her.