D.Va: Sky Ruler by Jade Gretz

https://www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai/art/D-Va-Sky-Ruler-1365498959?file=1

D.Va: Sky Ruler ANIMATION

The Static Sonata

Hana Song tasted copper. It was not the salt of a Busan seafood market, nor the synthetic tang of high-octane energy drinks that sustained her through grueling mech-maintenance marathons. This was the taste of copper pennies left too long in a stagnant drain, blooming on the back of her tongue whenever the radio frequencies dipped into the red.

She sat in the cramped cockpit of Tokki II, the HUD casting a bruised violet glow over her face. The MEKA base was supposed to be a fortress of reinforced titanium and unwavering patriotism, a bastion defending the peninsula from the churning horrors of the East China Sea. But tonight, the base smelled wrong. It smelled of ozone, scorched circuit boards, and something organic and terribly overripe, like winter cabbage forgotten in a cellar.

"Hana, status," Captain Ji-Won’s voice crackled through the comms. It was too smooth, too devoid of the usual raspy exhaustion that came from twenty-hour shifts against the omnic spawn. "You are off-grid. Return to sector four immediately."

"My telemetry says sector four is clear, Captain," Hana replied, her fingers dancing across the haptic keyboard. Her eyes narrowed as she watched the data stream. A secondary ping, ghostly and unlisted, was piggybacking on her own tactical feed. Someone was using her mech as a digital Trojan horse. "In fact, my telemetry says sector four doesn't even have power right now."

"That is an order, pilot."

"Orders usually come with authorization codes, Ji-Won. Yours come with a heartbeat." Hana’s voice was dangerously light, a sharp-edged chuckle. "And you know MEKA pilots don't have heartbeats over the local network. We’re all supposed to be cold steel and cold math."

Silence bled through the headset, heavy and wet. It sounded less like a digital disconnection and more like someone holding a hand over a microphone, breathing heavily into the plastic.

Then came the audio artifact—a low, rhythmic scraping sound. Scree. Scree. Tap.

It was the exact frequency of the decoding protocol used by the null-sector infiltrators, but filtered through something biological. Like fingernails trying to scratch through the other side of a plaster wall.

Hana didn’t wait for another command. She cut the engine’s main ignition, letting Tokki II slide silently down the maintenance chute on magnetic brakes. The cockpit lights flickered, shifting from violet to a jaundiced amber. The emergency backup generator kicked in with a groan, illuminating the grease-stained walls of the underground hangar.

And that was when she saw the MEKA units.

Rows of them stood in the cavernous dock, their massive armored plates gleaming under the halogen strips. But they were empty. Their cockpits were unlatched, gaping open like the mummified mouths of ancient kings. Black fluid—thick as engine oil, yet smelling faintly of vinegar and decayed flowers—dripped in slow, heavy plops from the hydraulic joints onto the concrete floor.

*Plop. Plop. Plop.*

Hana engaged the external audio sensors, amplifying the ambient sound until her eardrums buzzed. The base wasn't silent. Beneath the hum of the cooling fans, there was a wet, collective chewing sound. Hundreds of small, synchronized movements, like beetles beneath a rotting log.

"Hana Song," a voice rasped from the dark recess above the gantry. It wasn’t Ji-Won. It was a chorus of a dozen voices, all speaking in unison, slightly out of phase with one another, creating a horrifying stereo effect that echoed off the curved concrete ceiling. "You always were too curious for a child prodigy."

"And you always had terrible taste in interior design," Hana shot back, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She gripped the dual control sticks, her knuckles whitening. "Seriously, what is that smell? Did someone leave the kimchi incubator open for a decade?"

"We are shedding the skin of inefficiency," the chorus hissed. A figure dropped from the catwalk, landing squarely on the hood of Tokki II.

The metal groaned under the sudden impact. Through the thick bulletproof glass of her canopy, Hana looked up into the face of Lieutenant Min.

Min was supposed to be in Seoul, attending a strategic briefing on tactical deployment. Instead, Min’s uniform was soaked in that viscous black oil. His skin had taken on a grayish, translucent quality, stretched impossibly tight over cheekbones that seemed to have shifted an inch to the left. His eyes were wide, completely devoid of pupils, staring at her
...(more at https://www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai).
For more supergirl, chun li, batgirl, tifa, lara croft, wonder woman, rogue and much more, please visit my page at www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai - Thanks for your support :)