It had been a while since McCree had been stationed at Gibraltar. The whole place was surprisingly clean—Winston had been doing a lot of housework, it seemed. He started to think for half a second that Tracer might have helped out before he arrived, but he quickly shook that thought off. Lena had never cleaned up anything in her life.

It was nice, seeing how much hadn't changed since he'd left. Tracer was still almost illegally cheerful, regaling her companions with stories about how she had gotten into car racing since Overwatch's dissolution; Winston listened politely and laughed at all the right times, though he was distracted and kept climbing up to the upper floor to check the recall status.

But at the same time, so much was different. Reinhardt was more subdued—not that you'd know from talking to him. The way he just sat in wistful silence next to McCree told him they were both feeling the same pain. The recall list was so short…so many friends were missing.

"A transport will be arriving shortly," Athena announced.

"Who's on it?" Lena asked, leaning over a broken bit of railing with no apparent concern for the 30 foot drop beneath her.

"Dr. Ziegler. The next nearest recalled agent is Genji Shimada. His flight is due to arrive in approximately two hours."

"Right then, I'll go get her!" Tracer grinned, blinking down from the railing.

"Whoa there, kiddo," McCree said, rising from his place atop a wooden crate. "Thinkin' I ought to bring her in. We've got some catching up to do."

"Oooooh," Tracer toned, giggling, "Think you two'll be done 'catching up' before anyone else gets here? I'd hate to have to explain your absence."

"You've got a filthy mind, girl," McCree complained, though the corner of his mouth was upturned as he strode out of the de facto common area, his spurs jangling with each step.

The path to the front of the facility was long and winding and appropriately paranoid, especially after Talon's attack. Their ease in navigating the Watchpoint and getting around security, however, reminded him of his suspicions back on the hypertrain. Talon had obviously absorbed a significant portion of Blackwatch's roster. That knowledge only stoked the fire that Ana had lit in his heart so long ago. He had helped Reyes create that monster, and now that it had turned on its owner, somebody had to put it down.

McCree leaned casually against a concrete pylon, adjusting his hat to hide the glare of the late afternoon sun off the ocean. Only Angela was due in on this transport, but there were clearly two figures climbing the narrow path to the landing pad. He frowned and squinted, trying to discern who the other person was—too tall to be Torbjorn, Genji was still hours away, Sombra had defected a little more permanently than he had…

"Jesse!" There was no mistaking that voice.

"Fareeha!" he hollered in response, breaking into a run as the second figure started hurtling toward him. His smile must have been a mile wide as they finally crashed together, his metal arm clanking loudly against Fareeha's power suit as they swept one another up in a crushing hug. "How's my baby sister?"

"I'm not a baby," she laughed, punching him in the shoulder before hugging him tightly again.

"No, ma'am," he grinned, "Looks like you're all growed up and doin' pretty good for yourself," he remarked, rapping his knuckles against her shoulder. "This standard issue in the Egyptian army these days?"

"I work for private security now," Fareeha smiled, "It's our top-of-the-line flight suit. I get to be on all the posters now," she added, though the realization of what she'd just said slid between her ribs like a cold dagger. McCree caught the sudden pain in her eyes, and understood in a second. Like mother, like daughter. The tension hung awkward and painful for another few moments as McCree cupped her cheek in his cold hand, his thumb swiping past her tattoo as if he expected it to rub off. It hurt, how much she looked like Ana now that she was grown.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there," he said softly, his smile falling away as he pulled her in for another hug. Fareeha hugged him back tightly in return, holding herself stiff against her sorrow.

"I was so mad at you at first," she murmured. "But…after I saw everything that happened, I think I understand why you stayed away. I forgive you, Jesse," Fareeha said softly giving him a pained smile.

"Thank y' kindly," he smiled, though his gaze was downturned. "Figure I had to make it all up to her somehow. Comin' back and looking out for you seemed the way to do it," McCree said, mussing her hair up playfully and earning a sharp tug down on the brim of his hat in return.

"We'll see who looks out for who now," Fareeha chuckled, striding past the gate. Angela took a tentative step forward, chewing on the inside of her lip.

"McCree," she said softly.

"Doctor," he replied, tipping his hat.

"I didn't think you'd come back. You left so suddenly," Angela said.

"I could see where things were goin', and I didn't like the look of it," McCree replied. "I did all I could, but I couldn't stop that train."

"'All you could'," Angela repeated, a bit of a scoff in her voice. "Word still got out. Overwatch still fell." McCree's gaze narrowed at her subtle accusation.

"There was things in Blackwatch just for rats and whistleblowers you ain't got no idea about, Doc—when I say I done all I could, you can know I'm being truthful. Now you might not like what we done, but you know Blackwatch wasn't sloppy. Reyes knew we had a rat, I done told him we had a rat, and he let it all go down in flames anyway. Soon as I knew he wasn't gonna do nothin' to shut down that whistleblower, I knew that I knew too much. If I didn't disappear myself, Reyes was gonna disappear me and pin the whole damn thing on me. I ain't no Judas, Angela," he growled, spitting crudely, "And I ain't no patsy."

Uncomfortable silence reigned again, and McCree took a half step back, turning away quietly.

"Sorry, ma'am," he murmured. "Still just a touch raw about it."

"…I guess Gabriel betrayed all of us," Angela murmured, shifting from one foot to the other.

"I hear you there, Doc," McCree replied, "But now it's up to us to set things right, ain't it?"

"Yes…absolutely," Angela smiled gently. "I'm just glad we're on the same side, McCree."

"Come on, Doc, we've always been on the same side," McCree replied. "Just opposite ends."

Evening was falling, and the Watchpoint was quickly growing comfortable and domestic. The mess hall was filled with the sounds and smells of various dishes—bangers and mash, falafel, sopapillas, an attempt at a homemade salad dressing—and soon after with the sounds of laughter and repeated toasts around ice cold beers.

"We should've got together a long time ago," Lena sighed, not acting at all out of place drinking between old champs like McCree and Reinhardt, the three setting pace as they dismantled the 12-pack in front of them, all grudgingly accepting the glasses of water Angela would periodically force into their hands as well.

"It was illegal," Winston replied, only periodically sipping at his bottle and doing his best not to make a face at the taste.

"Overwatch activities were illegal. This isn't an Overwatch activity, it's just having a pint!"

"We're Overwatch, we're doing an activity," McCree replied. "They'd've definitely come down on us."

"Well why ain't they banging down our door now?" Lena huffed.

"There is strength in numbers," Genji replied, his beer open but untouched. "Together, we are a force to be reckoned with."

"'S true," McCree replied. "If it was just two of us having a beer, they'd roll up with tanks, jets, the whole nine yards to bring us in before any other old agents turned up and got rowdy. Good idea, in my case," he smirked.

"Why didn't they respond earlier, then?" Fareeha asked.

"Recall signal goes out to our biometric monitors," McCree explained, "If y' ain't got one, y' didn't hear the signal. They'll notice our movements pretty soon, but it's too late now. Their last hope of stopping us was catchin' me or Genji at the airport.

"There are so few of us. We could still be stopped," Genji cautioned.

"Even if this is all we have to work with, we will not be stopped," Reinhardt said, his tone as serious as a heart attack.

"There are still other agents whose monitors may be active," Athena offered, "Though without maintenance for the past five years, many of them may be damaged or unable to receive or transmit. I cannot confirm the number of potential returnees."

"Then there's them that heard, but won't answer," McCree added darkly, "Traitors."

"Intruder detected," Athena announced, "I have detected biometric monitors, but they are damaged beyond identification.

"Another attack?" Angela asked, standing.

"Twice in one day? Doubtful," Genji soothed.

"And they've got implants—it's an agent," Lena smiled.

"Ain't no guarantee they're warm and fuzzy," McCree said, rising from his seat as well. He wasn't the only suspicious one—Fareeha had also picked up her rocket launcher, her expression firm.

His footfalls were heavy in the empty halls of the Watchpoint, just as hollow as his outlook for the future. Why did he even answer the call? What kind of idiotic masochist would try to revive Overwatch?

As he neared the mess hall, his visor started to pick up several idiotic masochistic signals—most of them were no surprise. A few others, though…

"Long time no see," he said, his voice gravelly and humorless.

"It can't be," Reinhardt gasped, rising from his seat. "Jack?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "Didn't you hear? Jack Morrison is dead."

"Jack!" Angela said, tears of relief and frustration in her eyes. "We buried you, and that's how you greet us after all this time?"

"We shouldn't be greeting each other at all," Jack growled. "Overwatch is dead. What were you thinking, recalling us?"

"Commander, don't you see what's happening out there?" Winston asked, "Talon activity is on the rise, the Omnic attacks in Russia are spreading—the world needs us, sir!"

"The world doesn't want us, Winston," Jack replied. "It's their problem now, and if they don't want our help, then we should just stay out of their business."

"If you weren't hiding behind that cowardly mask, I'd punch you right in your damn mouth," McCree growled in response, his glare burning beneath the brim of his hat.

"Like you have room to talk," Jack scoffed, "You tucked tail and ran before you had to go down with the ship." He reached up and removed his visor, calling McCree's bluff. His scarred face and harsh glare panned across the room for a moment before quickly resettling on his 'challenger'. "You deserted Overwatch, McCree. You abandoned us all. You betrayed her."

His fist lashed out like a snake, catching Morrison's jaw just as McCree had promised. Reinhardt hauled McCree back by the shoulders easily, the alcohol in his system not doing much to pacify the thrashing, squirming cowboy.

"Been waitin' twenty years to do that!" McCree snarled, unable to free himself from Reinhardt's grasp.

"All this time, and you're still just a punk," Jack growled, gingerly testing his jaw and lip.

"I might've left, but I come back, ain't I?" McCree spat, "I come back 'cause it's what's right. If'n you don't know the recall's right, then what the hell did you come back for?"

"Easy, love, your Texas is showing," Lena soothed.

"Don't ask me why I answered," Jack replied, replacing his mask and turning to Winston. "Ask him why he called."

"I started to explain earlier," Winston began, "But we got distracted with each new arrival. It's like I said, though—international relationships are strained, internal tensions are fueling terrorist activity, human-Omnic relations are at a crisis stage…"

"That's the way the world has always been. Why call us back now, and not one of the hundred other times this year that there's been a crisis for someone somewhere in the world?" Jack asked. "What is so important it that made you break international law?" Winston was silent for a few moments before heaving a great sigh.

"Last night, Talon attacked the Watchpoint. They knew I was here, they were ready for a fight. They tried to hack Athena, to retrieve the personnel database. I'm not sure how much data may have been transmitted before we quarantined the worm, but…" He paused for a moment, glancing around the room. "Talon is working with someone. Someone who knows Overwatch inside and out. Someone who fights with two shotguns…like Commander Reyes did," he added.

"Yeah, I got it, I'm picking up what you're laying down," Jack grumbled. Other than his complaint, and the uncomfortable shifting of several agents, the room was hauntingly silent. Angela's gaze caught McCree's for a moment before dropping away, pain and shame in her eyes.

"Sounds like things are worse than I thought," McCree remarked, shrugging Reinhardt's hands from his shoulders. "Had a bit of a dust-up with Talon myself, a few weeks back. Got caught up in a hypertrain robbery."

"I heard that was your handiwork," Genji replied, something of a smirk in his tone.

"Reckon them underground news blogs'll have the stories from inside the train," McCree replied, a sardonic edge to his tone. "Regardless, from what I saw, Talon's been recruiting former Blackwatch assets. Agents, tech, you name it. If Reyes cheated death like you, Jack, and is working with Talon with our own former agents…"

"They've still got that sniper, too," Tracer muttered, looking uncharacteristically upset about that statement. Tension filled every agent in the room—they knew exactly which sniper Lena meant.

"As long as we're telling stories about Talon, my company has been stepping up security around the Anubis facility. It recently attempted to break its quarantine, and our intelligence has been picking up increased chatter regarding God AIs from various criminal organizations—specifically cyberattacks from Talon," Fareeha offered.

"…A truly precarious situation," Genji remarked softly. "Our own resources will not be enough."

"Don't be so pessimistic, Genji," Angela said, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"You misunderstand, Doctor," he said, shaking his head, "We have been reactivated—there is no turning back. If we wish to make a difference, we must begin what my father called…'aggressive expansion'."

"You mean recruiting, love?" Lena asked, her eyes lighting up again.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Jack said, raising a hand, "This is still an illegal operation."

"You don't even want to be here anyway, Jack," McCree said, glaring out of the corner of his eye for a moment. "…Unless you're in?" he asked, smirking. It couldn't be seen behind his visor, but Jack returned the smirk.

"Yeah, punk, I'm in."

"Excellent!" Reinhardt cried, sweeping up the two men in a crushing hug. "Together, we shall seek justice once again!"