Thanks to Lecos for looking this over and his input.


It doesn't fit me anymore.

Angela wasn't sure if it was the dress itself or what it meant, what it represented.

"Are you ready, Dr. Ziegler?" asked the young attendant waiting outside of the bathroom of her hotel accommodations. She was maybe twenty-two at most, exceedingly polite and pretty in the way all visible staff in high end hotels and restaurants were, with her short red hair, green eyes and athletic frame.

"Yes," Angela replied, letting her eyes wander one more time over her own image in the mirror. She had already been at the resident coiffeur to manage her hair and put on her make-up. It was fancier than usual, more elaborate, using products she only recognized from the brand but which were no doubt slightly better and vastly more expensive than when she had last had the opportunity to shop for them.

It felt…good, to indulge in that again. She had missed it, of a sort. Sure, as a daily ritual, it was bothersome and time-consuming but she had enjoyed the results it brought and she still did.

You look the same, her gaze was almost accusing at her reflection, but it's a lie.

"You look gorgeous, doctor," the attendant said, now standing in the bathroom. Angela hadn't heard her entering, lost in her thoughts. She was smiling, and it almost managed to fool her. She could let it, it wouldn't take much to convince herself and buy into this, the false affection and respect that the people had been showering her with in the last two days, ever since she had gotten off the plane from Najaf.

But she knew better.

"Thank you," Angela replied, her smile was just as fake as the attendants but more convincing if only because she had more experience with hers. She had been acting ever since her parents died, nearly thirty years ago, this girl had at the most a decade under her belt.

"It's mostly through your combined efforts, though, I assure you."

A weak smile flashed on the attendants lips. "Do you need anything more before you're ready?"

A car to get me out of here. She couldn't say that, of course. She grabbed the small, stylish handbag the same crimson as her dress. "Nothing comes to mind, dear."

When she stepped out of the bath, her eyes travelled to the large piece of luggage at the right of her bed. She wondered how many would try to get it this time. She wasn't too worried about it being stolen. The brightest minds of Overwatch in its prime (her own very much included) had worked to make a mobile container for her technology that protected it from anyone who wasn't her. Several different branches of technology worked together to make for a security system that absolutely depended on her fingerprints, her biomagnetic field and the unique nanobots in her own body to be accessed or get destroyed.

All her equipment did, even the caduceus blaster stored in her handbag.

Anything else was carelessness. Angela hated violence but her tech was too dangerous in other people's hands and to protect that, she was forced and ready to employ somewhat violent means

And if that wasn't the line of reasoning that had gotten Overwatch and her into trouble, she didn't know what was.

"We can make our fashionably late entrance now."

The attendant, Anne, nodded and opened the door. Leading her to the elevators and then to the ballroom that was already filled to the brim with the important and rich people that had found the time to travel to Zürich.

It was the sort of gathering she would have loved six years ago, whenever she found the time away from her laboratory and fieldwork to do the public parts of her job. As the leader of the medical division of Overwatch, responsible for research and medical care, she had been one of the higher ranking members of the organization and had been expected to mingle with others, to meet them and convince them of Overwatch's noble goals and intentions and win their monetary and political support.

She had enjoyed that, meeting people on occasions like this. In expensive locations, wearing expensive clothes, all these people hanging on her every word, vying for her attention.

In a lot of ways, while she certainly hadn't been the face or voice of Overwatch in an official sense, she had been the member the politically important people had known best. None of the others had enjoyed these things, in fact most of them had hated it.

Unlike her.

No, for all their expertize on normal battlefields, all of them had been out of their depth on those that weren't fought with guns and grenades.

Still, of them all, it had still been Reyes companionship she had preferred most at functions like this.

He had been a good dancer and an even better gossip to insult others with.

Now, though, she was alone where she once had been as comfortable as she had been in the operating room. Once.

Now, she heard the murmurs, the snide comments, the whispers about her, about her failures, about Overwatch.

It made her bristle but she didn't let anything show on her face. Angela, alongside Overwatch, had been on a pedestal and once that pedestal came crashing down, she was fair game for all those who had resented her.

Her designer dress was out of fashion, she appeared on such a social function alone and everyone knew she had been practically in a self-inflicted exile ever since her trials.

She flashed everyone a bright smile, and took a confident step in the room.

"Dr. Ziegler!" came the enthusiastic voice of a young man she didn't know, dressed in an expensive tuxedo with an ugly bright yellow tie. "What an honor to meet you again."

"I confess, that's something I didn't expect to hear tonight," Angela said shaking his hand, watching as he let out a short laugh. He was maybe a few years younger than her, tanned, in good shape with brown hair and eyes. He was clean shaven and while not classically handsome, he did have some charm to him.

If she had met him before, which could be true, but didn't have to be, more than a few people had pretended to know her, he certainly hadn't made an impression on her.

"You most likely don't remember me, but you had given a guest lecture at Stanfort University in 65. I was one of the students there. Raymund Green."

"I hope it was as enlightening to you as it was enjoyable for me," Angela replied, trying to remember what the subject of that lecture had been. She had given so many of them during her decade in Overwatch, she couldn't exactly remember which one had been which.

"Oh yes, it was life-changing!" his grin was wide and his voice carried more than he probably wanted. "But I'm afraid, we can't talk about that much more, your presence is eagerly awaited over there."

There it was, the reason for her invitation.

"Of course, darling, why don't you show me the way?"

"Certainly!" he was grinning and Angela wasn't certain whether he was genuinely that delighted or if he had a very strange notion on human interaction.

Then again, she wouldn't put it beyond them to have her guide be a buffoon, just to show her how much contempt they still held for her.

The word traitor had been thrown around more than once during her trial.

Reyes would have had his fun with this one.

He led her to a corner of the ballroom, where one table was secluded from the rest of the room and surrounded by five tall, well-build soldiers in their dress uniforms, who parted to let her, and only her, approach the table.

Sitting at the table were three figures, one woman, two men. Chief of the Armed Forces Korpskommandant Lea Bixel, Korpskommandant Hakan Reif and Dr. Nicolas Diesler.

Familiar faces, all three of them.

"You're late, Miss Ziegler," said the man in the suit, Dr. Diesler, his expression the same frown that she had seen the last time they had met during her trial, "we expected you twenty minutes ago."

Angela took the free seat on the other side of the table, facing all three.

"That's unfortunate, Mr. Diesler." His frown shifted to an irritated glare at that, the wrinkles in his aged face became even starker.

If you deny my title, I'll deny yours, you miserable old fossil. Not that you are worthy of it.

Before he could answer, Bixel interjected. "I'm too busy to listen to the two of you passive-aggressively insult each other. Ziegler, I'll get straight to the point. Five days ago, Dr. Winston sent a message to all previous members of Overwatch. It was brief but we decoded enough of it to gather that it was a recall notice. Coupled with the rising omnic tensions and Talon getting bolder as well, the last thing the world needs is Overwatch getting back to their old shenanigans again. What the hell is going on?"

Bixel was in her mid-sixties, her short, blonde hair had long since turned gray but her blue eyes were still as expressive as they had been twenty years ago, back when she had been an oberstleutnant who had handled Angela's initial involvement with Overwatch. She had been her liaison between the Swiss government, army and Overwatch, she had been her handler during the two-month boot camp she had to undergo before she could sign up as a member of the elite paramilitary organization that was Overwatch and she had been the person in charge of her detainment when everything had fallen apart.

Angela shrugged, "All I got was the same signal on the old transmitter. I haven't responded, nor do I plan to."

Diesler snorted, "A likely story, Ziegler. Are we expected to believe that you wouldn't join your old accomplices?"

Angela smiled, although there was nothing friendly about it. "Really, darling, I'm curious. Did you do anything else outside of nursing that petty grudge of yours?"

Reif, the youngest of trio but still Angela's senior of twenty-two years, who had light brownish skin, a thick beard and the frame of a former boxer, ignored the biting comments.

"Have you had any contact with former members of Overwatch during the last six years?" he asked, his voice unnervingly silent.

Angela had to think a moment. "I haven't seen any of the main agents or operatives, if that's what you mean. My current pilot is a former Overwatch pilot, and I did encounter the odd former low level technician or medical assistant over the years here and there. Overwatch did recruit from all over the world and I've been intensively traveling. Of course, I also took a few of my immediate subordinates with me to my private firm and am grateful for their loyalty and expertize. But from the old leadership or main team, I haven't had any contact with anyone, outside that one signal that you also received."

"So, you wouldn't mind if we gave Ziegler Industries another visit, just to make sure things are really as you say?" asked Diesler.

"My lawyers will be eagerly waiting to discuss any such disruptive, ill-advised steps, I assure you."

Angela had to learn the value of a good lawyer the hard way, early in her youth. It remained to be one of the most important lessons of her life. She resented the fact that so much money that could have gone to helping people went to lawyers instead but they were unfortunately quite necessary.

Also, there is something immensely satisfying about suing some degenerate like Diesler.

"And I gather that you are still unable to recreate my research if you are that desperate to once more invade my company to pry out the secrets of your betters? Really, you're no Prometheus, this fire would just burn you."

"Don't flatter yourself, Ziegler. With nothing but blind luck you've stumbled on lightning in a bottle as a teenager and you have been milking that ever since but your every single action since then betray you for being the arrogant narcissist that you are. Hoarding it for yourself, styling yourself after an angel. Donning a tacky halo and wings doesn't make you a divine creature, Mercy." He spat her code name. "The names you gave to yourself and your inventions just expose you as an attention seeking glory hound who refuses to hold herself accountable. You are as arrogant now as you were six years ago when you refused to come to your hearing!"

My, my, he's still so very bitter about that, isn't he?

A week after the Overwatch trials in the UN had been over, the Swiss Medical Association, no doubt on the urging of Diesler, had scheduled a trial to determine whether or not Angela would be allowed to keep her doctorate and medical license but she simply hadn't showed up, instead taking the first plane to Asia, to start helping people there. That had been six years ago and so far, she hadn't had any troubles on that front, travelling from country to country, to heal and help.

"I am so terribly sorry to have missed out on your kangaroo court bu-"

"Enough!" snapped Bixel, slamming her open palm on the table, rattling the glasses on it. "I hate repeating myself. Diesler, be silent." The broad, red haired man in the impeccable uniform of a chefadjuntant standing behind her handed her a folder which she opened, revealing the photos of her old comrades.

"We know Dr. Winston is still holed up in the facility that once was Watchpoint: Gibraltar, for which he has permission by the UN. The location of agents Kimiko and Miremba are also accounted for and are now under surveillance. We also know Lindholm is wandering the globe, tracking down those inventions of his that were supposed to be stolen, albeit no one quite knows where he is now or what equipment of his is actually missing. He was briefly seen new St. Petersburg a while ago, fighting some sort of giant omnic."

I knew this would happen. I wish I wouldn't have to say I told you so on this as well.

"Oxton is running around as a vigilante, fancying herself a hero. Luckily for her, she has a certain popularity with the populous and is not particularly destructive and her interventions are generally for the better so the British government lets her be. She also did some mercenary jobs here and there but for no one significant."

Angela smiled slightly at that. How typical of her.

"Which leaves us with agents McCree, Shimada, and even that stubborn old goat Wilhelm. And of course you, Ziegler. You were ranked higher than any of those. Chances were high that you would have taken over the reins once the Amari, Reyes and Morrison trio had left. After the mess in Zurich, you were the de facto leader who signed Overwatch's dismantlement. Which makes us question your level of involvement with the remnants of Overwatch."

"A question I just answered. Showing me pictures of people I have worked with for years doesn't exactly change the fact that I did not see them ever since the trials. Some even before that. Agent Shimada had left years before that, for example. Same with Reinhardt. He retired a few years before the end."

"They were your friends and colleagues, weren't they?" asked Reif, folding his hands together on the table. "You worked with some of them for over a decade. And you mean to tell us that from one day to another, you've cut off all contact with them?"

We didn't exactly part on amiable terms.

"Why yes, that's exactly what I meant to tell you. It was all such unpleasant business, I think we all wanted to put it behind us and so we did. Everyone went their own way, afterwards."

"You didn't try to keep up with anyone? Know what any of them were doing?"

Angela had done that, of course. She had tried to keep tabs on some of them. Precious Lena, for example, she had checked plenty of times and on the day of her departure, she had given her a special communicator which would be able to reach her at any and all times, if there ever was an emergency regarding her chronal accelerator. She had similarly given one to Winston, if he ever needed her help with Lena again.

It had been only for that and she was satisfied that Winston had respected her word on that enough that he had not tried to make contact over that.

"Not really. As I said earlier, Shimada had left years ago. Reinhardt was forced to retire and last I heard he was travelling. I knew Winston remained in Gibralter and further worked on his research. I don't know about the rest."

Reif tapped on McCree's picture. "He was seen involved in a train robbery in the United States."

Angela laughed, "Are you saying I ordered McCree to rob a train?"

"We're not going that far. Eye witness accounts are uncertain but general consensus seems to be that he prevented it. That, Dr. Ziegler, we could see you ordering. Especially since that train was transporting a few crates of your nanobot paste."

"There are quite a few hospitals all over the world that are supplied by Ziegler Industries. I'm afraid even at its heyday, Overwatch wouldn't have had the necessary personal to safeguard each and every one of them. Coincidences do happen, korpskommandant and I'd say this was merely one of them."

Reif pulled another set of pictures from the folder, this time one taken by a security camera, showing Winston and Lena engaged in combat with Reyes and Amelié in some sort of museum. "I'm not surprised you haven't heard of this one, it was fairly recent, after all. It happened yesterday, in the Numbani Overwatch Museum."

"I'm sure you recognize a few of your friends, on both sides of the conflict," Diesler mocked, which made Angela flush with anger for the first time this evening, her glare focusing on him.

"That poor woman was kidnapped, tortured, brainwashed and experimented on simply because her husband was doing his duty to keep degenerates like you safe and if you can't muster up the basic human decency to treat her tragic fate with the compassion and respect it deserves, I'd at least appreciate it if you'd keep your filthy, disgusting thoughts about it to yourself, Dreisler!" Angela snapped, her voice now loud enough to be heard by the whole soldier guard around their table and maybe even a few curious party guests who were lingering nearby in the hopes of snatching up a few pieces of interesting gossip.

"Ziegler!" growled Bixel, all the warning necessary compressed into that one word. Dreisler, meanwhile, had turned and interesting shade of red and looked as if he was tempted to lunge over the table and throttle her.

She was hoping for it.

Angela detested violence, but she also detested colonoscopies and yet both were necessary from time to time and she would have liked nothing more than to hear that satisfying crunch of his nose breaking.

Something good would have come from this waste of an evening, at least.

There was a reason the knuckles of the gauntlets of her Valkyrie suit also had an extra layer of titanium plates. Angela would never win a martial arts tourney, or score particularly high in the rankings but she had seen her fare of combat and violence. More than Dreisler ever had.

I really regret not destroying his career when I had the chance.

"The point being, Dr. Ziegler, the recall, the museum incident which has two former Overwatch agents fight together, McCree on the train in the States, Lindholm's appearance in Russia, this shadowy figure reading former Overwatch storage units and there are even rumors that Oxton may have been on the scene during the assassination of Mondetta. All of this has the UN very concerned. And for better or for worse, you are the highest ranking person we have eyes on, so we'd like some answers."

"In that case, I'm so gushingly glad that this has been an immense waste of time for all of us and not just me. I'm unable to understand what's so difficult to comprehend about the fact that I have been busy helping people in Asia and the Middle East for the past six years, with the occasional visit to Zurich, which I'm sure you kept a close eye on. So, I have nothing to tell you, since I have no involvement with whatever is going on." Angela pointed at her fellow doctor. "Unlike Dreisler here, I'm actually busy healing people and don't have the time to wallow in past grudges, so I'd appreciate it if you could abstain from contacting me again for things like this and simply have my lawyers tell you off. Lovely Annika has gotten so good at it, it's always a delight when I read her account on things."

"You realize that it is the very committee that you have such a strong disdain for that you still have a medical license, don't you, Dr. Ziegler?" Reif spoke up, his blank face meeting hers.

"Are you talking about Dreisler's pointless hearing?"

"The very same, doctor. It has been only due to our intervention and appeal that you have kept it."

"A touching gesture, I'm sure and not at all self-serving. The second you take away my license, I'd be showered by offers from medical schools from all over the world to grant me a title from them. Whether I have a title or not, I'm still the best medical doctor alive, korpskommandant. Even your little toad here will find that hard to deny, no matter how much he desperately wishes otherwise."

That had been the final straw for Dreisler as he jumped up hard enough to push over the chair he was sitting on and slammed both hands on the table with enough force to make all glasses fall, glowering over her.

"You're a disgrace to the medical profession, Ziegler!" he roared, "A criminal! I've seen your files, I've seen parts of your research and I've heard reports from former assistants and consultants. And I know that you never quit that criminal organization of misfits and murderers of yours. And one day, mark my words, I will make you pay for your arrogance."

"Have you now? Is that why I've never been arrested for those supposed crimes?"

"You've been lucky so far, Ziegler. It's only a matter of time before you slip up, and I'll be there. When your crimes will be revealed for all to see."

"How has your wife taken to the fact that you're spending all your time ranting about me? From the missing ring on your finger, I can only assume it wasn't all that well, and who can blame the poor dear? Really, I'm almost sorry. A poor doctor and a poor husband as well, you're lucky you're such a good lickspittle to the right people."

He was gritting his teeth now, when suddenly two of the soldiers stepped up, each putting a hand on his shoulder, and steered him away from the table. By now, a good chunk of the party, the elite of Zurich, were staring at them. Reif was looking as unflappable as ever whereas Bixel, while still no doubt angry, was also looking as if she would rather be anywhere else than here.

"You're not making this easy, Angela," she said after a long sigh.

"If you wanted easy, you wouldn't have invited our charming little friend to this precious tête-à-tête, so don't wholly blame me. I can only accept so much of it after that."

"I had hoped those six years in exile would have tempered that tongue of yours, but here we are, not even seven hours back home and you already made a troublesome enemy. That ox is still the director of the Swiss Medical Association and he has many friends in the government. You're not twenty anymore, nor do you have anyone's goodwill."

"He had always been my enemy but if I have to suffer the indignity of having to sit at the same table as him, I'd rather have him know his place. Truly, what madness possessed you to do such a thing? This couldn't have come as a surprise. He has been jealous of me since I was still in puberty."

"The Federal Chancellor insisted," said Reif, "something about an unbiased source during this interview from the medical community who can truly understand any eventual leanings into the field that may come up during this talk."

Angela let out a quick laugh, "Oh my, that's a bit of optimism if I have ever seen it."

"He is an optimist, among other things," said Bixel, "concerned about Overwatch is one of them."

The smile vanished from Angela's face. "Did I stop speaking German or is there another reason as to why it seems to escape your grasp that I have not been in contact with anyone. Do you wish for me to play it out via charades? Will that satisfy you?"

"While we can't prove that you've had any contact, to do so in so many different foreign countries is difficult after all, let's just say that I have faith in your ability to make do even without that. You were close to Oxton and Dr. Winston, I can't imagine that you went six years without speaking a word to either of them."

"Lucky for you, you don't have to, for it already happened. Well, if you excuse me, it's late and I really have better things to do than answer the same asinine question again and again."

"That was no empty threat, by the way," Reif interjected again, reaching for a document from his folder and putting it on the table and pushed it towards Angela. "What you say is correct, or at least it was, six years ago. Even a month ago. But all this recent business with Overwatch has a lot of people nervous, Dr. Ziegler, especially about your involvement. People were happy that you are busy in some shithole, fixing up a few poor souls all day but they get queasy thinking about you working with Overwatch again. On this document you will find a declaration that you will be stripped of your medical license on a global scale, should our courts decide to so. It has been recognized and signed by all major countries. You see, you may very well be the brightest medical mind alive, maybe even ever if that helps you sleep at night, but it means nothing in the face of reality."

That had shocked Angela and she knew it was visible on her face.

"Well, it seems I'm not the only one who came tonight to make enemies."

"I hate to quote you, but we were already enemies. You just needed to learn your place."

"That couldn't have been easy," she said, after twenty seconds of silence, of reading and rereading the document. "I guess I have to congratulate you on your networking and at your dedication of denying people my help."

"Don't be melodramatic, Angela, it doesn't suit you."

"Well, I can't deny that this will make my life more challenging, but it's hardly the checkmate you think it is. People always need help and would be more than willing to accept it from me. Call it arrogance all you want but you could nail this piece of paper at the entrance doors of every hospital in the world and every single one of them would let me walk through the very same gates and perform operations on those they had given up hope on. I have spent every day of my life ever since I received my medical degree with fifteen saving people and I won't stop now."

"Yes," agreed Bixel, "there is that. And you know why, Angela? Because of your reputation. Because of your image that you have been oh so carefully crafting ever since I met you all those years ago. The way you talk, the way you look. Don't think I don't recognize that you had some work done on yourself. Your ridiculous armor, the halo, your name, all of that deliberate and I can't say it hasn't worked. Even now, years after your disgrace, people still like you. I guess a fallen angel is still an angel."

Reif took over, "And we will destroy that image. That baboon that just walked out of here is just one such person who would love nothing more than to drag your name through the papers with all kinds of scandals and accusations and we have dozens of him. All of them hate you. Former employees, colleagues, business-people, politicians and religious figures, all of them united in their hatred, all of them given a voice and a platform to be heard. And unlike our friend, those you won't be able to deal with quite so easily."

"All that will remain of the so called Angel of Mercy will be an arrogant, immoral washed up has-been who has committed amoral scientific acts and the only people you will be able to diagnose will be your cell-mates."

Angela was silent, the words hitting her harder than she would have liked. She knew Bixel and Reif, they didn't have the habit of making empty threats and while she had faith in herself and her legal support, she didn't quite believe she could withstand a government sanctioned witch-hunt that easily. Not something of that scale.

She would rather cut off an arm than let them see that, of course.

"You must remember our times together differently if you had convinced yourselves that I was going to cave at a threat like that. Not to mention it's utterly pointless."

"You are being obstinate, Angela, stop it. This doesn't need to go down this way. Just tell us what we want to know."

Raw anger was pulsing through her veins. "I told you what I know!" Angela snarled, "and you are more than trying my patience with your insistence that I am lying. What does it take to get through that skull of yours that I truly had no contact with Overwatch, nor am I conspiring in bringing it back!"

"Proof, Dr. Ziegler. Proof."

"How do you expect me to prove something like that?"

"Well, Angela, I'd think it would be rather convincing that you are truly beyond Overwatch by now if you were the one who could expose those trying to reform Overwatch to the UN."

Realization dawned onto Angela, and her scowl intensified. "You disgust me, korpskommandant, both of you do. Overwatch and I had not what I'd call a pleasant divorce, but I have no desire to do something as distasteful as that to any one of my former colleagues."

"And yet, if you want to keep your medical license, your firm, what's left of your reputation and even your freedom, you'll do this, Angela. Believe me, it doesn't bring me any pleasure, but needs must and we must stop Overwatch from messing this delicate situation more than it already is. Clashes with omnics are happening daily all over the globe and it's getting worse. Talon is but one of the many organizations that seek to destabilize the status quo, even though it may be the most dangerous. That's not to mention what various nations and powerful individuals are planning to use this unrest to further their own ambition. We cannot allow a controversial force such as Overwatch to split up our resources and attention even further. We don't even want to necessarily arrest anyone, if that is what you are concerned about. Why would we? What does the world gain from imprisoning such astonishing minds such as Dr. Winston or Lindhelm or you, Angela? Quite frankly, we don't want you behind bars, what a waste that would be. Even more so than you already wasting your time and energy on a few hundred nobodies at hellholes when you could help millions by sharing your technology more freely. We just want all those people, you included, to work directly with government or military oversight."

"Threats and a desperate attempt to force me, and others, to hand over my technology so a military organization can use it to create more weapons, how novel."

By now, Angela was shaking with fury, but with deep breaths, she was managing to calm herself down, knowing how much in the public eye she was right now.

So much time has passed, so little has changed.

"Well, I believe we had a conversation similar to this quite a few times over the last twenty years, and since my answer hasn't changed since then and I have repeated myself enough this evening, I will say good night."

"Very well, Dr. Ziegler, you'll have a few days, to mull things over but don't take too long, that trial can convene in three days and unfortunately for you, you can't just skip this one. You're not allowed to leave the country for the next week."

"Make the right decision this time, Angela. You're not a child anymore."

"Oh, don't worry about that," Angela said and walked away, feeling their stares until she passed through the doors. "I always do."

*oberstleutnant – lieutenant colonel

*korpskommandant – lieutenant general

*chefadjutant – Warrant officer class 1