Bastet
Ana Amari was not dead. Ana Amari was also not blind. Not completely.
Upon her third day of laying motionless at the very edge the flat sandstone building, she lined up her shot. Ana peered through her scope idly, ensuring there would be no interference, that no one had noticed her. She played through security routes once more in her head.
Abdul Hakim contorted his face into a grimace as he spat into a silver rectangle. He cared not for anything other than money and all of Cairo suffered for it. He lined the pockets of fat men with golden rings that struggled against sausage fingers, with gold chains that grew dull from sweat and grease. He did so daily, and with no consequence.
A flash of blue ran through the vision of her scope just as she was about to pull the trigger. Ana dropped down out of site immediately, fearing that she had been seen. Shots rang out loudly through the courtyard, but none seemed to be directed at her. She quickly tore the scope from her rifle. She poked her head up to take stock of the situation.
A man fired at the growing number of bodyguards from the cover of a stone fountain. 76 was emblazoned on the back of his jacket. When he stepped down to reload he turned, and Ana saw the face of a man she had long thought dead.
She slammed her scope back onto her gun and retook her position, firing quickly into the mass of men that were converging on her supposedly dead commander's position. They dropped one after the other. Jack took no time to see his guardian from above, only throwing half a glance in her general direction before advancing forward into the fray.
Even as Jack moved, a wisp of shadow materialized a ways behind. Ana fired. The bullet went through the darkness. After half a second, a man clad fully in black and armed to the teeth stood there, unharmed. The man looked directly at her, his ivory mask peering into her being. Ana froze by instinct. The Reaper. Another soft spoken fairy tale to scare children into their homes before dark. Ana hadn't honestly believed the rumors.
The man had another target. Jack.
Unaware of the spectre that had appeared behind him, he continued his push. Any guards that were near Hakim had quickly surrounded him when the shooting began. They were yelling orders and shoving to get him out of the fray. Ana threw her rifle over her back, yanking on the strap to keep it close to her body. She scrambled over the ledge, her hands just barely catching the cracks on the stone. She was too old for this shit. Too old for acrobatics and all this shit.
The Reaper stepped forward, holding out in an almost careless grasp, two sawed-off shotguns. He fired once, and the force was enough to bring Jack to his knees. Blood blossomed just under the numbers on his jacket.
Jack bounced back to his feet, whipping around in time to see an old woman with a gun tackle the Reaper fearlessly.
Ana ripped the guns from the stunned Reaper's hands, throwing them aside. She straddled his chest, using her weight to effectively pin him.
"What are you?" She hissed.
The Reaper merely chuckled.
Ana slammed her bloodied fingers under the edge his mask, tearing it off. Ragged flesh came with it. Another man she thought dead grinned up at her, his jaw half exposed and his skin rotted. But it was still Gabriel.
He laughed, and flickered away just as quickly as he had arrived.
"I think I got them all," Jack said breathlessly.
Ana stood slowly, processing what she had seen. A body guard shifted off to her right. She thoughtlessly pulled her side arm from its holster and fired. The man fell limp, dead asleep.
"I think you've got some explaining to do, once we're done here," said Ana tiredly. "Did you see where Hakim went?"
"Hover car. Didn't see which way they drove off."
Ana forcefully jerked on the strap of her gun. She could hear sirens. "We have to go, Jack."
The man surveyed the ruins. The fountain had been shredded away by bullets and the ground was littered with copper. Ana could see through the torn remains of his jacket that his wound had barely started to heal. It was a mass of decaying black and green at its center, as if acid was eating away at his back.
"Jack."
With almost hazy eyes he looked at her. "Let's go."
The two jumped the low fence surrounding the manor and made off toward the endless alleyways of Cairo.
Jack took rasping breaths as they ran. "The wound isn't healing. Something's wrong."
"Keep running. We can't afford to stop."
Jack said nothing. He kept going, his breathing still labored.
Ana looked back at the man, unsettled by his glazed over expression and his inability to keep up with an old woman who hadn't been genetically enhanced.
"Just hold on, Commander."
Jack scoffed at her word choice.
What was normally a twenty minute walk away from home ended up being a twenty minute run. Ana was unbelievably careful that nobody follow her back to the abandoned necropolis she had come to call home.
Jack collapsed ten yards from the front door and Ana did her best to carefully drag him in. He was much too dense a man for her to effectively carry. Her entire being already ached from sitting still three days, so she wasn't willing to aggravate it further. Dragging would have to do.
She managed to get him in without too much trouble and lifted him long enough to get him into a cot.
Ana took a deep breath.
Jack is alive.
Gabriel is alive. To a point.
She quickly sorted these thoughts and quieted the accompanying questions. They'd have to wait just a bit longer.
Jack Morrison was not a man who dreamed often. Jack Morrison was also not a man who liked to dwell in the past. Sometimes he couldn't help but do both of those things.
As he slowly came to, he recognized the fading visions of old lives and faces he hadn't pictured voluntarily in years. He was undecided if the memories were the cause of his nausea or if it was just his half healed wound.
"I thought you'd forgotten about that man a long time ago, Jack."
He could hear her filling something with water and a spark as she turned on a burner.
"Who?" Jack replied, barely getting the word out. He felt like he hadn't drank water in months. He'd never get used to the heat here.
"Vincent. At least, I think that's what you were saying."
Jack didn't answer at first. It wasn't a touchy subject but it also wasn't his favorite. "He's married. They're very happy."
Ana pulled two chipped mugs from an ancient wooden crate that now served as a cabinet. She dropped a tea bag in each.
"Family is foreign to people like us. Much safer that way."
Jack shifted on the cot. He couldn't remember how he had gotten here, but it didn't much matter. It wasn't the first time he had passed out and found himself some odd number of miles away from where his last memory placed him.
"Why are you here?" Ana asked calmly, tapping her fingers lightly on the edge of her makeshift counters.
"I heard about a bounty hunter in Cairo. One eye and older than hell."
"You always were a smartass," Ana chuckled. "So you took a chance? Hoping it would be me?" The kettle whistled lightly, the delicate sound echoing through the large and nearly empty dwelling. She pulled the ornate kettle off the burner and poured their tea. It fit well with the rest of her home. The ancient chamber of the necropolis had been turned into a vaguely domestic space, with military equipment, some basic furniture, and a few antique decorations. Ana was always a sparse woman.
"There was talk that Hakim had a hand in Talon operations." Jack said. "It was just luck you were there the same day."
She always disliked how much Jack and Gabe would rely on chance in their younger years. A few mistakes here in there cleared that up after several bad missions. They were the type that learned lessons the hard way.
"I never forgave myself for leaving you behind. We didn't stop looking for months. Almost a full year." Jack said, sitting up slowly. He took a moment to get to his feet. He felt weak, but Ana knew by now not to scold him for getting up. He wasn't going to try anything stupid and honestly if he pulled a stitch it was easier to just redo it then to wrestle him back into bed in the first place.
"You were never good at letting the dead rest easy."
He couldn't help but laugh at that. "Luckily you weren't dead."
"Luck is relative, Jack." Ana gave him a hard look, her dark eye all but unreadable.
"Fill in the gaps, Amari. Tell me what happened."
She set her cup down and sat across from him on a dingy wooden stool. "I had no memory of anything for a long time. They renamed me and I lived as another woman for several years. Things came back to me, slowly at first." Ana sipped her tea. "It was hard to remember that I have a child."
"Fareeha is a grown woman now. You'd be proud to see what she's become."
Ana tightened her grip on her cup, her knuckles visibly pale. "I know what she's become."
Jack quickly looked for a way off the topic of her daughter's military career. When Fareeha was still little Ana talked about how she prayed to every God under the sun that her daughter would never have to fight to live like she had. She wanted her daughter to thrive, become an artist, an engineer, a musician, anything but a fighter. Ana wanted her daughter to grow into a soft and kind woman who never knew death. Jack was not a parent, but he could understand the beautiful delusion Ana had picked for her only child.
"I cannot direct my rage at her. It's my own fault."
Jack looked down at the floor awkwardly, not knowing how to respond. "What have you been doing all this time?"
"When I was strong enough, I left the hospital in Poland and I've been here since. I see you've become some kind of vigilante as well."
"Different day, same bullshit."
"I'm surprised. You were never one to break the rules," Ana stood and put more water into the kettle. Jack had once seen her drink 9 cups in a day. Her hands never shook from caffeine no matter how much she'd had and he was always envious.
Jack meandered to a small table that Ana had setup as a display of sorts. Old bits and bobs sat there, meticulously dust free and very well taken care of. Each item looked like something one could find in a museum. "What are these?" He asked, reaching out to touch what looked like a mask.
"I found them when I moved in. They've survived the rise and fall of entire civilizations, I couldn't just get rid of them."
"Seems a lot of things are surviving past their best by date lately," Jack muttered, turning away from the table.
"You knew it was Gabriel," Ana said confidently. There was no malice in her voice. Just the sort of weariness that sleep doesn't take away.
"Talon is on the rise. Reaper has been tracking me and probably some of the other previous Overwatch members." He had no contact with any of them, but if Reaper was after him it only made sense. "Intel led me here, where Reaper was supposed to be meeting Hakim for some kind of business deal." Jack moved sluggishly, his back causing him more pain than he had felt in a long time. He had to sit down.
"I did my best to patch you up, but the wound isn't healing."
Jack cautiously reached to touch the bandages around his midsection. The gauze felt like sandpaper against the deep gashes. "The bullets must've been laced with a biological agent. Something to slow the process."
"You need a doctor. Angela isn't too far."
He nearly cringed at the thought of Dr. Ziegler's reaction to them both being alive. He didn't want to put her through that trauma. Consequently, he would be going through trauma as the doctor would tell him every unhealthy thing he had done since he had his last Overwatch sanctioned checkup. He wasn't ready for that confrontation.
"No. It's better we stay ghosts. For now at least."
Ana had no objection to that. "Someone else, then. You need treatment."
Jack leaned back on the cot and closed his eyes, trying to ignore the aching wound. "I just need rest."
Ana slipped away silently when Jack reached his fifteenth hour of deathly still sleep. She had very little food and if Jack still ate like he did when he was younger, it would be far from enough.
On cool nights like this she would play back her favorite memories she had of her daughter. Fareeha had a birthday party on a night like this. Most of Overwatch had shown up and Ana could remember the look of pure joy the little girl had on her face when she saw Reinhardt armour-free for the first time. She couldn't help but giggle as she pointed at the german and accused him of being 'naked.'
That was only time they ever got everyone together for her daughter and she regretted it. In the years coming her daughter grew to be just as bullheaded and stubborn as her mother. Fareeha had told her many times how she was looking into military options and Ana hadn't known how to take it, so they fought. In the end, Fareeha became what her mother wanted to protect her from.
Occasionally Ana would sit with just her scope on a high building and look down at the complex where she knew 'Pharah' to be stationed at, and she would wait. On good nights she would see her leaving for the night, laughing and talking with coworkers. Giza was a bit of a hike, but it was worth it.
She popped up to her customary spot and sat there for several hours. There was no sign of Fareeha, like most nights she went. Feeling no better but no worse, she went to a cheap food stand and bought 20 credits worth of falafel. Hopefully that would be more than enough for Jack.
Jack woke up slowly to the smell of something delicious. He was confused. Ana was not a very good cook.
"Hungry?" she asked, plopping a greasy brown paper bag on his stomach. It was still slightly warm.
"Depends on who made it," he muttered, smirking.
Ana from the old days would've thwapped him on the back of the head, but she didn't have that same kind of energy anymore. "I liked you better when you were scared of me. Unfortunate that only lasted a month."
"It was hard to be scared of you after Rein nearly snapped your spine and you were almost in tears. I hadn't even seen you smile at that point, much less cry."
"He did snap my spine. He cracked three vertebrae," said Ana indignantly.
He chuckled at her, shaking his head. He rummaged through the bag he had been given. Four warm foil packs. She knew him too well, even after all these years. It took Jack barely five minutes to completely devour the food Ana had brought him.
"How long was I out?" Jack asked, balling up the paper bag and foil. He chucked it across the room and it bounced off the wall and into the small garbage can.
"Day and a half. How's your wound feeling?"
Jack stood, mentally checking himself. He certainly felt stronger, more balanced, but the wound was still painful and burned with infection. "Better. Still not healing as quick as it should be."
"I've located Hakim. In a few days when you've healed we can set up for another attempt."
Jack crossed the room in long strides, pulling his tattered shirt and jacket down from the makeshift laundry line where they had been drying. Ana was a professional when it came to getting bloodstains out of clothing. She had even sewn some of the larger tears in his jacket.
"I want you to come with me, Ana. Overwatch needs you."
Ana turned sharply, unable to contain her glare of disapproval. "Overwatch is gone, Jack. I'm not going to let Hakim continue to drain this city. Reaper came here to see Hakim for a reason."
"We're after the same thing, Amari," Jack growled, his frustration growing. "Hakim is just one head of the hydra. You have to see the bigger picture."
"What is wrong with you, Jack?" Ana chided. "Does this bigger picture suddenly make the lives of everyone in Egypt unimportant? One head of the hydra can still kill hundreds. Ridding Egypt of Hakim may not end things, but it will give me valuable time to figure something out."
"Come back home."
"There's nothing there for us," Ana hissed, closing the distance between them. She was half a foot shorter than him, but she never failed to intimidate. She wasn't scared to get in Jack's face. "There's nothing there for me. If I leave now, everything I've done here as Shrike will be undone. Cairo doesn't deserve to suffer."
Jack sighed tiredly, taking a step back from the irate woman. "Gabriel is probably still looking for us. If we're going to take down Hakim, we should do it now."
It took fourteen hours to track down the seven safe houses that Hakim had setup throughout Cairo. It took only two more hours of scouting to figure out which one he was holed up in.
They shared a cramped hotel room, and waited.
One by one they slowly snapped up each informant and associate of Hakim that they could, quietly dismantling the framework around the mob boss until he was all but exposed.
Rumours ran through to the remaining pieces of the organization that Hakim was being targeted and he withdrew further underground. But Ana and Jack were patient.
On the eighth day Jack stood in front of grime encrusted mirror, twisted awkwardly to see the wound on his side. It was still struggling to heal correctly, several quarter sized holes still infected and sore. He could probably take the stitches out soon. He pressed freshed gauze to it, using half a roll of medical tape to keep it there.
"It looks better than it did," Ana said, throwing him a clean shirt. "Still no sign of Hakim."
Jack pulled the shirt over his head and walked toward the tall windows. He surveyed the house that was nestled behind sparse shrubs and a rotting wooden fence halfway down the road. They hadn't seen anyone go in or out for almost three days.
"Have you thought about my offer, Ana?"
The woman sat cross legged by the other window, peering through her detached scope. A cup of cold tea sat at her side. A small parcel sat in her lap, wrapped carefully in canvas."I have," She said simply, her hand mindlessly tracing over the small object.
"Still not interested?"
She smirked. "I was never not interested, Jack. You know me better than that."
Jack takes a seat beside her. "It doesn't have to be you. Once Hakim is ousted, this city will recover. There are plenty of people who are rising, fighting the broken system. Your daughter is one of those people." Jack softened his gaze, wishing the woman wasn't so damn difficult to read. "It doesn't have to be you," he repeated with finality.
Ana wordlessly unwraped the delicate package. The old clay mask, adorned with gold and black coloring, depicted what looked to be a regal cat. "Bastet was one of the old Goddesses. She was the gentle protector, but a warrior. When I moved to necropolis, this was one of the many pieces I made sure to keep safe." She looked up at Jack, her eyes filled with pride and strength. "Shrike was enough for a long time. Bastet will be enough for the future."
Jack wasn't sure what to say.
Ana immediately snapped to attention, leaning forward and squinting to look through her scope. "That's him. Let's go." She removed the square of cloth covering her bad eye, and proceeded to pull the ancient mask over her face.
"Ready, 76?" She asked briskly, reattaching her scoping and taking aim.
Jack smiled.
The capture and subsequent trial of Hakeim led to major reform in Cairo. Trade and business prospered, no longer bottlenecked by corrupt leaders and officials. The name Bastet echoed down dark alleyways and when Ana heard it in the streets she couldn't help but smile.
Upon Hakim's indictment, Ana made her final decision. She packed lightly, leaving behind almost everything. They sealed the necropolis behind them and with it, the mask of Bastet. It would remain there for years, untouched.
She sat and watched one last time for her daughter in Giza. As the sun rose without catching a glimpse of Fareeha, Jack grew restless.
"Ready, Amari?" He asked gently.
Ana nodded. "It's time to go home.
(I was personally a little underwhelmed with the writing style used in the new short that was reused, so I decided to kind of repackage it. It's still the same plot points and sort of pace as the original. No disrespect to the original writer, of course. It just wasn't my cup of tea!)
To expand on this a bit, if anyone was interested, I mostly rewrote this with the intention to iron out dialogue and interactions between Ana and Jack. Whilst I enjoyed the original, a lot of their character felt forced or maybe even overly dramatic. Mainly, I just wanted to expand a bit on these amazing characters. I pushed things around a little bit, hopefully to help with the flow. The writer, who I believe is also the creative director for Overwatch, probably had a pretty sparse word limit that really made the pacing a bit strange to me.
But again! Utmost respect to the original writer! I basically wrote this on a whim for my friends and for myself and thought I would share it here as well.
Thanks so much to all of you, I'd love to hear what think about this rewrite as well as the original version!