Shawn's POV:
The work began at sunrise.
Cores salvaged from dead Bastions were unloaded one by one, heavy as anchors, humming like caged storms. Ethiopian engineers moved alongside Overwatch's, stripping panels, adjusting couplings, bolting the alien technology into the cracked frames of old hydro generators. Sparks flew, curses echoed, laughter followed when something finally fit.
For once, I didn't need to push. The medics weren't saving lives today, they were lifting beams, hauling wires, lending hands where engineers lacked strength. Locals joined in, sleeves rolled, voices bright. The dam that had stood silent since the war roared back to life in shudders and sparks.
By midday, turbines spun again. A cheer rolled across the valley when the first lights flickered on in the nearby settlement. For the first time in months, Ethiopia wasn't in darkness.
Tesfaye stood beside me on the catwalk, watching the turbines hum. His face softened in the glow. "This is the first time I've seen the river sing since the bombs fell. You and your people gave us that."
I shook my head. "No. We just gave back what was stolen. The rest was always yours."
He clapped my shoulder, the lines around his eyes deepening into a smile. "Then come tonight, Rose. Come see how we Ethiopians celebrate when the dark is finally behind us."
The capital was alive that evening.
Banners rippled in the warm wind, drums pounded, voices lifted in songs older than war. My team walked through crowded streets lined with lanterns and laughter. Children darted between them, tugging at their uniforms, calling them heroes. For once, none of us carried weapons drawn.
The celebration spilled into the great hall. A repurposed government building, patched walls hidden beneath flowers and cloth. Food piled high, the air rich with spice and smoke. Musicians played, people danced. For one night, the war was over.
Tesfaye sat at the head table, a cup of honey wine in hand. His cheeks were flushed, his voice loud.
"Look!" he cried, slamming the cup down, splashing wine across the boards. "See what happens when man and machine stand together! When we stop treating them as slaves, as beasts, and see them for what they are... people!"
The hall fell quiet. Murmurs rippled like uneasy waves. Ethiopia was still raw, still bleeding from omnic fire. It was one of the countries that denied omnics their rights. Not everyone wanted to hear words of kinship yet. Tesfaye shouldn't be so open about not being on the same page as his President.
Tesfaye didn't care. "If we do not grant them dignity, we will breed only more Anubises! I will see it changed, even if the rest of you choke on your hate!"
I felt the tension harden in the air. Eyes narrowed. Hands clenched cups too tight. This wasn't a speech meant for tonight, not here.
I was moving before I realized why. A flicker in the corner of my vision, shadows breaking from the rafters, too deliberate, too fast.
Steel glinted. Muzzles rose.
"Down!" I roared.
The first assassin's shot cut through the air where Tesfaye's head had been a second before. My hand caught his shoulder and yanked him aside, wine and curses spilling as he fell to the floor.
Chaos exploded. Screams filled the hall. Civilians scattered, plates crashing, chairs overturning. My team surged, forming a wall between the assassins and the crowd.
They weren't amateurs. Their movements were sharp, disciplined. Their weapons were sleek rifles with glowing blue nodes, were nothing I'd seen in the war. Cutting-edge, far too advanced for bandits or broken militias.
One fired. I twisted, katana flashing, deflecting the round into the wall. Sparks bit the air. Spencer dove, tackling a second before the man could line up his shot.
But there were too many civilians. Every strike risked collateral. My medics fought to clear the floor, shoving families out side doors, overturning tables for cover. I cut down one assassin in a blur of steel, but two slipped away, vanishing into the crowd.
When the smoke cleared, one remained. Spencer had him pinned, blade at his throat.
"Alive," I snapped.
The prisoner sat bound in a side chamber, blood at his lip, eyes cold as stone. Tesfaye stood behind me, trembling with rage and drink, demanding answers.
"Who sent you?" I asked.
The man spat at the floor. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"Try me."
"Tesfaye Bekele is a fool. His talk of omnic rights is poison. Ethiopia will not bow to machines again. He needed to be silenced."
Tesfaye cursed, lunging, but I held him back. My gut twisted. The words sounded rehearsed, too neat. A script, not conviction.
And then I heard it, the accent. Wrong. Too polished, too foreign to pass as local. And the rifles… no militia had that tech.
"You're not Ethiopian," I said softly. "Who are you working for?"
He sneered. "You think you scare me? You think...."
I pressed my palm to his chest. Electricity stirred. His body jerked, every nerve sparking under my touch. His eyes widened, teeth grinding as the current licked his spine.
"Who," I repeated, my voice cold. "Say it."
The resistance broke like glass. His voice came out strangled, torn from him by the current.
"Talon. A man from Talon paid us. We were told to make it look… Ethiopian. To kill him before his poison spread."
The word hung heavy in the room.
Talon.
I drew my hand back, the prisoner slumping against his bonds, shuddering.
Tesfaye's face went pale, his anger melting into something colder, fear. "What have I done to warrant their hatred?"
I turned to him, "Oh. So you know of them, huh?"
Still drunk, you could read it in his face. "No, I have no idea what this, Talon is, or what they could want with me."
I nodded ignoring the obvious lie, jaw tight. "They're everywhere. And now they've shown their hand."
As I stepped back into the night air, the celebration outside had turned to whispers, to fear. My team looked to me, waiting for orders.
"Work with the guards and secure the area. No one else gets in. Tesfaye, you're with me. I have to make a call." I order.