General_-_butch_-_overwatch_-_d.va_hana_song_-_... -

Hana’s brow furrowed. She had heard rumors of the "General," a legendary commander from the early days of the Omnic Crisis who had advocated for pilot-sync technology long before the MEKA unit was officially formed. Butch wasn't just a strategist; he was a pioneer of the "Aggressive Defense" doctrine that Hana now lived by.

That’s when she saw it: a classified file labeled General_-_Butch_-_Overwatch_-_D.Va_Hana_Song_-_...

As she bypassed the encryption, a grainy video file flickered to life. It wasn't a battlefield recording. It was a workshop. A burly man with a salt-and-pepper buzz cut—General Butch—was arguing with a technician. Hana’s brow furrowed

Suddenly, the base’s proximity alarms blared. A massive Gwishin omnic had breached the coastal perimeter. Hana didn't hesitate. She kicked the chip bag aside and vaulted into the pilot’s seat. That’s when she saw it: a classified file

"System's checked! Ready for combat!" she chirped, the familiar HUD lighting up her face.

"You don't get it," Butch’s voice crackled through the speakers. "You can build the thickest armor in the world, but if the pilot can't feel the machine like their own skin, they're just sitting in a coffin. We need someone with reflexes faster than the AI. We need someone who treats combat like a game they refuse to lose."

Hana paused the video. She looked at her own hands, calloused from years of pro-gaming controllers and flight sticks. Butch had been looking for someone like her decades before she was even born.