September 29, 4:32 A.M CEST
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A two story building, dark and gloomy, contraptions of various sorts, multiple bodies lattering it's floors, vests and guns in a singular location. It's second floor, a different story; destruction of multiple server towers, segments dividing it, computers but for pure processing only. A desk, over ten meters long, multiple monitors standing afloat on the behemoth. The central monitor with a holographic keyboard. Topping by a chair, holding a genetically modified gorilla, Winston and his scruffy hair and glasses, a large frame reminiscent of his species, finishing with his gorilla-like face.
"Establishing agent connections," announced Athena, an artificial superintelligence Winston had created years ago, a robotic but female tone.
An orange globe was created instantly after a previous action by Winston, thin orange dots going latitude and longitude popping, even thinner lines connecting each dot, continents appearing millimeters away from it's surface. Multiple name tags started appearing in various locations across the globe; Mercy, located in Iraq; Torbjörn, located somewhere in Russia; Tracer, located in the United Kingdom; Reindhart, located on Greenland; McCree, located in the United States; and Genji, located somewhere in the Pacific. On another location of his desk, a slider, multiple agents he'd attempt to contact goes unsuccessfully, scrolling like madness, until one named Tracer showed up, halting for an "Active Call" banner to streak halfway through.
"Winston, is that you luv?" she'd ask through the call with a heavy Cockney British accent, "Aha! It's been too long."
"Yes it has," Winston said in triumph, fixing his glasses, smiling almost if he was a sadist, "Yes it has," he followed up with, tonal shifting more serious in the proccess, "The world needs Overwatch more than ever, you need to head to Watchpoint: Gibraltar as quickly as possible to return to duty.
"Alright, but it may take me at least a few hours from London," Tracer replied.
"Acknowleged." Winston concluded.
The call between Winston and Tracer comes to it's conclusion, the active call banner dissapearing with the side monitor blackening shortly after.
"Are you sure the Watchpoint is a viable base of operations, while in the middle of a garrison of the Army of the United Kingdom?" Athena questioned to Winston.
"No locations besides the Watchpoint are viable, this location will be used until a more secretive Watchpoint is available." Winston replied, refuting Athena's question.
"Are you aware that the Watchpoint currently has enough space to house agents along with things they might need such as food, recreation, and accommodation?" Athena questioned again.
"I already have constructs ready to go, besides, we still have a mass of rock that can be excavated for a larger base if necessary." Winston replied.
5:52 A.M BST
Oxton Apartment, London, United Kingdom
Over the past couple of minutes, Tracer was blinking and zooming past multiple locations around her apartment, collecting materials such as clothing, hygienics, and some non-essential stuff, almost if one of the United States' Hypertains was looping inside. All while Emily, her girlfriend, a strong face with red hair and freckles, watched in shock and awe as Tracer's suitcase, a light shade red thermal insulated polymer interlaced with carbon nanofibers, shifting towards half full. Tracer reappeared again, a sudden drop of air pressure combined with air distorted from her blinking signifying.
"Bloody hell Lena, do you need that stuff?" Emily asked with a Kentish accent, "It's like metres and metres of stuff."
As she'd place her signature weapon, two pistols which fire pulse munitions and are dual wielded, Lena turned to face Emily, two of her multiple bangs at the left side of her face dangled over her eyesight, "Cmon Emily, it's Overwatch I'm talkin' about."
"But I thought it was disban..." Emily replied.
Lena uses her two fingers and firmly presses on the zipper which her Pulse Pistols rest in, swiping to lock it inside, "Winston has recalled it and now I'm going to meet him in Gibraltar so I can return to duty." she'd interrupt.
She'd blink directly behind Emily, taking hold of her brown fur jacket, with a small Union Jack on the right, comparable to military uniforms, with a target with an arrow at it's bullseye with the name "Tracer" below the insignia. Lena temporarily takes off her chornal harness, a tool which she needs to survive which has to be on her, or close to her, however she has found ways to survive in the current stream by taking it off. Briefly but swiftly, donning the jacket. She'd crouch down, taking hold of her chronal accelerator, placing it back on. With it, her full outfit besides her mask was complete; besides her jacket, she had leggings which were bright orange to almost yellow at her waist which gradients to orange near her modified running shoes, with a black stripe going from the outside, two white forearm guards, and leather gloves.
Lena then blinks near her suitcase and Emily, swiping her hand to her suitcase, "Besides, I'm already done luv."
Emily wraps her arms around Lena, who responds the same way, smooching each other in the mouth. Shortly after, both let go of each other, Lena zooming normally from their living room to the door to her apartment, the latter almost flipping off it's hinges due to her inhuman running speed.
6:02 A.M BST
London, England, United Kingdom
"Watch where you're going!" yelled one of the working class men in a standard suit with slacks and dress shoes.
"Sorry!" Lena replied, twisting her trajectory sharply left of a cross section.
Rushing past a street and into another city block, she'd high jump over a steel arch bridge, lunging over it like it was a hurdle, that bridge symbolizing the border walking-only district of London; King's Row, and into it's East End, where Lena was raised in for most of her life.
As she started to fall hard from air, she'd notice her trajectory is heading for hard tarmac, "Wheres a lamp post I can blink to?"
As seconds before she was about to be a human splat, a deus ex machina in a moving van zoomed under Lena, causing her to land in a thump on it's painted roof, her left foot in front of her right, right foot holding the momentum of her landing, right hand on the van. She'd swish left and right, using her good eyesight to find the bus station she was heading to or a lamp post to head there independent to what saved her. As it hit a red light after taking a few kilometers, Lena lifted her body off of it's position, returning to standing up while stealthily progressing up the van, catching a brief glimpse of the bus station she'd have to get to. She'd lunge upwards, transferring the energy to jump, taking hold of the steel holding the bars and wires together, flipping upwards, releasing her grip and doing a more precise flip, landing on top of it. After a few seconds of recovery, she'd blink from her current position to a metal pole reliefed on the side of a building, following with a drop down to another traffic light pole a few meters away, two hundred meters away from London's intercity bus station, a stubby location, a few stories tall, multiple parking spaces with an Underground station available for transfer and symbolized further by city and intercity buses entering the location.
"Finally," Lena sighed, "Time to play the waiting game for a coach."
She'd fall down the traffic pole, entering the mainstream crowd with those heading towards the station. Helping herself to take the long way, knowing it was time to wait.
6:15 A.M BST
London Intercity Coach Terminal, London, United Kingdom
After walking the two hundred meter stretch of land between the pole and the station, Lena was finally inside. Dominating her current view were multiple booths, each with white at the bottom which gradients to blue until the ceiling was reached, turnstiles in between the booths for entry into the station itself. Glass protecting the receptionists who were in black uniforms with a gray stripe coming from their left shoulder to the right end of their waist, on top of the glass, there were boards which state the arrival and departure times, cost, and agency handling the buses for that specific area. She'd walk past the booths two times, before settling on the booth which lead to Portsmouth, a coastal city for a ferry.
"Hello there," the receptionist greeted.
"Can I have a ticket to Portsmouth?" Lena asked.
"Is anyone else coming with you?" said the receptionist.
"No," Lena replied, "Only me and my baggage."
The receptionist did some number cracking, before a receipt was printed, "That will be twenty one pounds."
Lena looks over her suitcase, zipping and unzipping multiple points of the red case, to find a fifty pound banknote laying around, giving the note to the receptionist. Who'd then print the ticket, handing it to Lena.
Lena moves her cramping hand forward, taking possession of the ticket, "Thanks luv!"
The turnstile for the booth was now unlocked, free for Lena and her suitcase to go through.
She'd start walking to the restaurants while thinking about what's next, evading and squeezing a few other passengers, "Well, now it's time for the clock clock game to begin, I have an hour to wait before the trip begins and thirty five minutes before it arrives, I'd better obtain some breakfast, now that it's almost morning." she'd mutter to herself, entering a breakfast restaurant.
30 Minutes Later
After filling herself up with a light version of the English breakfast, it was almost time for her bus to enter the fray on her quest to meet up with Winston at Gibraltar. Holding her suitcase behind her, Lena proceeded to where the bus she was going on was heading to arrive, massing with almost borderline people which also were heading to the same destination, Portsmouth. Various people standing in random distribution near it's destination, a few on their phones texting, while few have done something else. Coming to an end once a purplish blue bus, with the name "UK Coaches" in crimson red, one point eight nine meters tall and one point four meters wide, came into the station in a paved space inside the station for boarding and disembarking. Multiple peopled flowed out like a high pressure valve, moving quickly to get what they need as more equipment converged on the bus; refueling equipment and a trolley for things like snacks for the drivers.
"All inbound to Portsmouth, line up!" ordered the driver, yellow vest, white shirt, name tag symbolizing the driver's appearance.
Everyone lined up with the driver certifying each ticket that was purchased, after a few seconds to a few minutes, it was certified and baggage was allowed to enter the storage compartment of the bus.
"Ticket," the driver asked to Lena as it was now her turn.
"Here!" Lena replied, handing over the ticket swiftly like how she was.
The driver began certifying her ticket, looking for informities.
"Ticket is certified, you can enter," the driver announced to Lena after a few seconds of certification.
"Thanks luv!" Lena replied happily, rushing to open the bus's luggage compartment, storing it in alongside the others whose already on board.
8:12 A.M BST
UK Coaches Bus En Route to Portsmouth
Lena looked to her chronal accelerator, "Stop acting up on me!" she'd plea as the bus yanked upwards, zigzaging along with the bus, causing it to fluctuate, something she can't risk or her life is endangered.
Up at the throne of the bus, the driver pulled out the PA radio to announce something, "We are thirty two kilometres from our destination."
From the windshield, the skyline of Portsmouth was in view, and a few kilometers later, was visible from the side windows. Minutes later, pulling into the intercity bus station of Portsmouth.
8:21 A.M BST
Portsmouth Intercity Coach Terminal, Portsmouth, United Kingdom
Exiting the bus, Lena turned to her right to be met by all compartments open, multiple riders pulling away the luggage the bus hauled on their journey towards Portsmouth, following behind to complete her journey.
"That was a short ride," Lena said to herself, searching for her suitcase in the mass that was the compartments, turning herself away to the other side, scanning and finding it in the peinultimate compartment at the rear, "Now off to the harbour for a ferry to Spain."
8:23 A.M BST
Portsmouth, England, United Kingdom
The streets that led to Portsmouth shrouded in hell, buildings of multiple shades of gray almost if communism has taken over, crime at an all time high due to racism in the city which housed HMS Victory, mugging and robbery being everyday occurrence.
Lena walked forward, despite how bad the image appeared to be, "Bloody hell, this is worse that I'd imagine."
As she was passing a corner, robotic screams in the distance from a nearby café eradiated her ears, a call for help. Blinking like crazy, Lena avoided all possible locations which she could be blocked from helping. She couldn't believe her eyes; seven gunmen, all wearing uniforms comparable to riot gear, high powered military grade firearms, and blockading an alleyway which was full of omnics, eight shopping type omnics and three omnic monks, along with a human supporter of them.
"FIRE!" ordered the leading gunmen, tats of gunfire emerging within an instant as over fifty rounds in seconds come around, gunning the omnics down to scrap metal and parts.
Lena turned to face the public execution unfolding, blood squirting the location which said execution happened, she'd lower her tone to be barely herd from a distance like a whisper, "What the."
Attempting to return to normalcy, she'd turn away and continued to Portsmouth Harbour. Only for one guard to notice her presence.
"What kind of stupid turd action you done now?" said an angry Gunman 5, taking hold of Gunman 7 by the body glove, "Didn't you realise we have a witness to the execution!"
Gunman 3, more disciplined than the hotheaded Gunman 5 and less weak compared to Gunman 7 stared them both with eagle eyes, "Break it up."
"I won't until the bitch who witnessed us is neutralised." Gunman 5 interjected, dropping Gunman 7 to crash onto the floor, out of breath and clearwater drops of sweat from his arms.
Gunman 1 rushed forward, aiming his rifle, firing a burst of gunfire on Lena, only to be met by a trail of blue light following her location, reappearing on his left view.
"The hell?" Gunman 1 asked, confused to why despite his accuracy almost completely one hundred, none hit her.
"HOW DID SHE TELEPORT!" demanded the even more hotheaded Gunman 2.
Gunman 1 sighed, staring to see Gunman 2, "I don't know."
The distortion of the oxygen audible to all gunmen as one of them notices the girl they've been fighting over.
"Hiya!" Lena greeted bubbly to the gunmen, regardless of the tension buildup.
"You..." growled Gunman 4, charging at her, "How dare you witness our omnic execution."
"Enough!" Gunman 6 ordered, causing them to cease attempting to hurt her, "You made a fool of us, Tracer," he growled, stating her by her Overwatch codename, turning to face his comrades, "Make sure she pays retribution!"
All of the gunmen aimed their weapons, firing them blindly, only to be met by her blinking almost continuously symbolized by her blue tail. Each bullet Lena blinked past breaking windows like stones, segments and corners breaking and falling like an earthquake just occurred.
She'd continue dodging, smiling arrogantly, "Is that all you got?" she'd ask, her arrogance surfacing.
However as the fun was starting, sirens of the police; the Hampshire Constabulary, screeched beyond the gunfire, causing the gunmen to stop firing, running for their lives as Lena herself notices, rushing beyond the location to avoid arrest.
As she'd sprinted as fast as she'd could, noticing the hovercars with white, blue, and yellow paint along with the lights, "I was lucky to avoid them, or it could have been a shitty time."