Spring Into Action

The vault level was quiet. As Hana crept along the long, wide hallway, bordered on both sides by concrete walls, she swept her gun out in front of her. She was excessively thorough in her sweeping as she moved down toward the vault proper, she really, really didn't want anyone to get behind her and see what was going on back there, she was positive she'd die from the embarassment; the hall was apparently just what it looked it to be, though: Empty. She saw the large, circular vault door ahead of her, cut right off its hinges and resting to one side, cracks in the floor spiderwebbing out from underneath at the point where all of the door's weight had hit it.

From here, she could see the chamber beyond it was bathed in red light — the power supply to it must have been damaged at some point after the thieves had started setting off explosive charges. Idiots. Hana Song would ordinarily have been able to deal with a group as slipshod in their tactics as this with her eyes closed, but the lack of a MEKA and the revealing state of her suit left her a little less sure of herself than she would ordinarily have been. She could cinch it, probably, but the chances of her dignity remaining intact was a massive question mark, and she wasn't sure she'd be satisfied with whatever the answer ended up being.

She closed the rest of the distance, a faint hissing sound growing gradually louder as she came up toward the vault entrance. Hana heard voices coming through the open doorway, so she dashed to one side of it and assumed a standard cover position from which she'd intended to covertly listen in. Before she'd done that, however, she hadn't taken into account the cold metal surface of the vault entranceway, and how that would interact with the damaged portion of her suit, so that when she turned and backed up into said surface to take cover, her still tender cheeks slammed right against the metal. There was a sharp intake of breath as the sensation reached her brain, and Hana found herself biting her tongue to stop herself from screaming. She covered her mouth, her breathing fast and shallow. Recovery from that particular mistake took her half a minute, and when the soreness had started to subside again, Hana let her hand drop from her mouth, closing her eyes to better process it all.

When she was fully done, she tried again to eavesdrop, her gloved hands keeping a firm hold on her delicate derriere as she stood against the wall, leaning closer to the vault opening.

"Any trouble upstairs?"

"H-hostages got away...and an Overwatch-type showed up."

"Really? Shit, who was it?"

"D.Va."

"South Korea's very own? Where is she now?"

"We, uh...knocked her out."

"Shit, look at you! Going around putting Overwatch's lights out. What next, gonna go ten rounds with Soldier 76?"

"Got lucky, is all."

"You have someone stay behind to keep an eye on her?"

"Uh..."

"You...you didn't just leave her there?"

"I-I didn't...we didn't think—"

"Yeah you sure fuckin' didn't! She could already be awake by now, she could have called in backup or—"

Hana saw her opening, she stepped away from the wall, checked her gun, then stepped into the open vault with it held out before her. "—Or she's got you right where she wants you, and is just about to kick your..." She hesitated, looking over her shoulder. Bad choice of phrase, she thought.

Inside the vault and standing before her, three members of 'The Park Rangers' stood with their guns at their sides, taken completely by surprise. "Jesus fuck!" One of them exclaimed, "You idiots just threw the whole heist!" The other two glanced at each other, then at Hana.

She tossed her hair dramatically with her free hand, then put on her best smirk. "You should have brought more guys, smarter ones, too, might have actually posed a threat!" Holy shit, she was doing it, she was actually pulling this off! She could scarcely believe her good luck, having somehow managed to pull victory from the jaws of defeat and salvage this situation before it took a turn for the even-worse.

One of the two who'd been talking about her cocked his head, then said: "Well, it's funny you mention that actually..."

Hana suddenly heard slow, thudding footsteps behind her, a bead of sweat broke out on her forehead. Before she could turn to look behind her, she heard what sounded like a kind of rattling, and something scraped against her back, lodging in the top of the hole in her suit. Her eyes went wide, and she reached frantically for whatever-it-was...but she was too slow.

Whoever was behind her did something, and she felt the thing tugging on her suit. Hana tried to turn again, but again before she could, there was another tug, and she heard a loud tearing as her suit ripped. She felt the back of it break open wider, the sides tear at the seams, and down her front, like a cheap bit of wallpaper, the material curled, then wilted forward. Hana dropped her gun in shock, bringing her hands up to stop the suit from falling. She couldn't see the new extent of the damage to its back, but she could feel that most, if not everything right down to her thighs was gone. Her legs trembled, and she found herself looking down at her arms, the material on them also sheared away down to the elbows. Beneath the fragile length of rubbery fabric she was tightly gripping, she could feel her boobies moving freely once again, liberated from the suit's oppressive yolk.

Hana tried to speak, but could only let out the smallest, highest squeak. "Goddamn," Someone remarked in a low, muffled baritone from somewhere behind her. "That is one tight arse!" She was finally free to turn to see who it was, and as she did, she was able to place the accent. Australian. They finally came into view as she turned — she was heedless to the three men who were now behind her, making appreciative sounds as their eyes bored into her butt — her only interest was this newcomer; who she now saw was none other than international criminal Mako Rutledge, also known...as Roadhog.