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

"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."

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. General_-_Butch_-_Overwatch_-_D.Va_Hana_Song_-_...

That’s when she saw it: a classified file labeled "You don't get it," Butch’s voice crackled through

she said, snapping a selfie with the explosion in the background. "GG." We need someone who treats combat like a

As she boosted out of the hangar and into the rainy night, she felt a strange connection to the old General. He had envisioned a future where the pilot was the heart of the machine. As she dove into the fray, weaving through a hail of missiles with the precision of a Grandmaster, Hana whispered to herself, "Watch this, General. I'm playing to win."

With a perfectly timed Self-Destruct, the Gwishin was reduced to scrap metal. As Hana stood amidst the cooling wreckage, waiting for her new mech to be air-dropped, she looked up at the moon. The legacy of General Butch wasn't in the files or the steel—it was in the pulse of the pilot who refused to back down.