The desert did not sleep. Night hung like a suffocating shroud, heavy with heat and silence. Then, at the signal, silence ended. The horizon burst into fire.
The soldiers had gathered in the dunes, their armor sand-scarred, rifles clutched like lifelines. Even veterans shifted uneasily, eyes fixed on the looming citadel ahead. Anubis' fortress rose like a tombstone, its spires thrumming with crimson energy, the walls jagged with integrated weaponry. Searchlights swept the sands as if the fortress itself could see.
Reyes stood on the crate platform, arms folded, grim as the battlefield itself. The soldiers looked to him, expecting something to hold onto. Instead, he muttered, "Not my thing." His gaze flicked sideways.
Morrison stepped forward. He mounted the crates, back straight, his rifle slung across his shoulder. When he spoke, his voice cut through the desert air like steel striking flint.
"Listen to me. We've fought too long, bled too much, to falter here." His gaze swept over them, faces carved by exhaustion, lit by the glow of artillery behind them. "Anubis believes humanity is prey. Tonight, we prove him wrong."
He raised his arm toward the fortress. "I've seen men and women hold three days under siege in Amman. I've seen medics steal death from the jaws of battle. I've seen every one of you stand when you should have fallen. Tonight we bring that fortress down. Tonight, humanity remembers: we don't bow. We don't break. We win."
The cheer shook the desert. Rifles pounded against armor, boots stomped sand into dust. Even the tremor of fear in their guts turned to fury.
Reyes smirked faintly. "Still got it."
The plan was brutal in it's simplicity: hammer the walls until something gave. No other decisions could be made on the matter. For no intel was collected on this prior to today. In fact, they had only known of its existence hours before. Almost as if it didn't even exist before the relays collapsed.
Should they manage to make an opening, they were to push in and confront Anubis. Much easier said than done it would seem.
Artillery thundered first. Cannons on the dunes belched fire, shells streaking across the night sky. Explosions blossomed against the fortress walls, sparks spraying like molten stars. The ground quaked as tanks rumbled forward, treads chewing the sand.
Infantry poured from trenches, rifles firing in disciplined bursts. Spotlights traced across the dunes, painting soldiers in crimson light.
Then the fortress answered.
Panels shifted, metal groaning as hidden gunports snapped open. Bastions unfolded in neat rows along the walls, their weapons transforming with an awful whir. Their first volley raked across the advancing lines, tearing into the sand like scythes.
Orisas marched forward from heavy gates, shields shimmering in unison, energy beams scything soldiers apart. Above, drones shrieked downward, loosing bombs that transformed dunes into geysers of fire.
The front line staggered under the assault. But it did not break.
"Rose, left flank!"
Shawn sprinted, boots slipping in sand. A soldier lay screaming, chest torn open by shrapnel. Shawn dropped beside him, pressing a sparking palm over the wound. Electricity arced down, dragging blood and broken tissue into his own body. His ribs burned with the pain, but the soldier's gasps steadied.
"On your feet," Shawn rasped, hauling him upright before stumbling back.
Spencer and Virginia were already moving, dragging two more back from a collapsed barricade. Leslie fired bursts skyward, her rifle clipping drones that buzzed overhead like vultures.
"Keep moving!" Shawn barked, voice raw.
S3bastian strode past, plasma arm glowing. "Do you humans always call this war, or is it some twisted vacation package?" He loosed a blast that tore through a line of Bastions, scattering their parts across the dune.
"Shut up and keep firing," Shawn snapped.
The battle consumed the night.
Every gain was blood. Infantry advanced meters, only to be thrown back by waves of gunfire. Artillery hammered the walls, leaving only black scorch marks. Drones swarmed endlessly, no matter how many were shot down.
Reinhardt stood at a choke point, his barrier glowing like a beacon as soldiers huddled behind it. Bullets and beams hammered the shield, sparks flying, until Reinhardt roared and charged forward, hammer smashing an Orisa apart.
Sojourn moved like lightning, her railgun crackling with precise arcs. Each shot cut through drones, dropping them before they reached the trenches.
Reyes stalked the shadows, shotguns tearing into Bastion nests, his movements precise and brutal. Morrison's voice anchored the chaos, shouting orders, steadying the wavering line.
And Shawn ran everywhere.
Vital Synch tore wounds from soldiers, burning across his body. Blood streaked his shirt, some his own, most not. He stumbled often, but his medics steadied him, each one carrying, binding, healing.
Hours blurred. Smoke turned the sky into a false dawn. The fortress still loomed, unbroken, its walls mocking their efforts.
Then the ground betrayed them. Sections of sand erupted as hidden turrets rose, belching torrents of energy. Entire squads vanished in screams, their silhouettes turned to ash in blinding light.
"Turrets! Get those down!" Morrison roared.
Tanks pivoted, cannons hammering. Shawn and Spencer dragged survivors back, their bodies glowing with burns. Shawn pressed both hands against one man's chest, electricity surging as the charred skin sealed. He cried out as the agony became his own, ribs blistering under his armor.
Beside him, Spencer grabbed Shawn's wrist. His own palm glowed faintly. "Let me take some."
"Not yet," Shawn hissed, forcing himself upright.
Another wave of Bastions poured from the fortress gates. Their combined fire ripped trenches apart.
Reinhardt stood tall, barrier shuddering under the storm. "Hold the line!" he roared, voice carrying over the chaos. Soldiers rallied behind him, firing through the cracks of his shield.
Sojourn vaulted a barricade, dropping to one knee. Her railgun charged with a rising whine before she released a bolt that pierced three Bastions in a single crack of thunder.
Still, the fortress held.
At midnight, the call to fall back was made. Human forces reluctantly pushed back towards the man made trenches where they would be spending the night in disappointment that their failure to even put a dent in the fortress.
Shawn fell to the ground, mentally exhausted more than physically. He had learned his lessons about being overzealous in saving people and being too reliant on Vital Synch. This battle was brutal, and surprise after surprise kept them on their toes, making them stay in a constant state of high alert. It wore down the mind more than the endless waves of omnics did.
Virginia knelt beside him, handing him a water canteen. "Finally. A time when I'm not warning you to not kill yourself from taking things too far."
"No one gets saved if I hurt myself." Shawn says as he wipes his mouth from taking a swig.
Spencer snatches the canteen from Shawn. "Now you have to work on relying on us more in the battlefield."
Shawn hesitated, then nodded once. He cared for them, so naturally he didn't want anything to happen to any of them. His team, his responsibility. Which is why he left many of their new recruits back in Geneva as they were sent to destroy the relays. But Spencer was right. They couldn't continue to grow if I babysat them all the time.
The desert was unrecognizable by the time the first hint of gray crept over the horizon.
Craters pocked the dunes, fires smoldered in pits of twisted metal. The fortress still loomed, its walls blackened but intact, crimson lights glowing defiantly.
Overwatch's army remained: reduced, battered, but unbroken. Soldiers stood in ruined trenches, faces grim. Reinhardt planted his hammer in the sand, shield flickering. Sojourn adjusted her visor, eyes sharp despite exhaustion. Reyes reloaded calmly, silent. Morrison stood at the front, hands on his rifle, jaw tight as he stared at the fortress.
The fortress had not fallen. But neither had humanity. The desert was not finished burning.