Chapter 1 – Expecting
Though Overwatch's agents dazzled the world with their heroics and were searching out promising recruits every day, they couldn't be everywhere at once.
"I look forward to taking delivery."
Colonel Gérard Lacroix of Overwatch Military Operations shook the hands of the lead scientific staff from Helix International who'd developed a next-generation powered armor called Raptora. The current iteration reached Mark II status, having overcome flight limitations that nearly crippled Mark I. These rapid-response units would aid his already-successful mission: securing global peace. The First Omnic Crisis passed but the threat of violent radicals remained, especially a nebulous group calling itself "Talon."
Lacroix wasn't paid to figure out why Talon attacked Overwatch facilities or attempted to stir up anti-Omnic hysteria. His job was to stop them, no matter what. To that end, he was to oversee the transfer of six Raptora Mk. II suits to the Egyptian Army. Multiple quantum-dot microchips meant stolen hardware would be recovered quickly, but Backlash mini-rockets were still dangerous even if they were only in the hands of wrongdoers for a day.
He tilted his head upon realizing who followed a General at a respectful but protective distance.
Ana's daughter is quite impressive. Already attached to classified operations at her age!
Because the suits were developed with substantial investment from Overwatch, they were technically supranational property belonging to the organization itself, rather than being given freely to recipients. In that regard, Lacroix handed over command codes that would enable the suits to start up—six disks in all.
"We have backups" he assured a jumpy General. "But it will cost you if you want them shipped overnight."
Unfortunately for the keen eyes of both command staff and their attachés like Amari, there was nothing "cool" to see as each set of armor was packed in a shock-absorbing, electromagnetically shielded, reinforced case for transport that left nothing visible. Gérard scanned each case with his personal digital device, marking them as "arrived at destination." An authenticated PKI handshake with Egyptian military equipment completed the transaction, formally transferring responsibility and operational rights to the recipient.
"At least the instructions are digital."
Lacroix set down a briefcase he'd been carrying. His thumbprint unlocked the unassuming black box, and its latches retracted with a series of clicks. He'd been told that it wasn't an exaggeration that printing the operational manual on paper for Raptora would deforest a small park.
Afterward as the usual social festivities set in, a smartly-saluting Fareeha Amari stepped over to meet him.
"Did your mother tell you to butter me up?" he asked, though he was smiling.
"No sir" she replied. "I…"
She suddenly stopped talking, lost for words.
"Oh, I know what you want to ask, but you're feeling like a child seeing if the other parent will let you have candy right before dinner because the first one you asked said no."
Amari's cheeks turned slightly red, but her darker complexion hid this from the Frenchman.
"You want to know what it takes to get into Overwatch. I know your type—dedicated, focused, and most of all, a believer. A government can buy as many guns as it wants, build a whole horde of Omnics. But it can't make someone believe. All I can tell you is that those deemed worthy will hear from us."