*I do not own Overwatch. It belongs to Blizzard, but you already knew that. Anyway, this is my first dive into the Overwatch fandom so here goes nothing. Enjoy!

A warm golden glow hung over the late afternoon skies as a lone figure trudged up the rocky trail toward the entrance of Watchpoint Gibraltar. The light clinking of spurs coming from the man's boots were the only sounds that filled the dusty pass until a cool sea breeze rolled in. The lone figure stopped and let the breeze rustle his tattered red poncho before he adjusted his brown Stetson hat to ward off the sun's glare.

A light trail of smoke snaked upward from the dying cigar which hung out of the side of the grizzled man's mouth. He took one more puff before tossing it aside and stamping it out. He squinted through the sun's glare and gave a sigh looking at the lonely remains of the old outpost. "Wish I could say it was good to be home."

He continued on the path until he reached the entrance to the base which had once served as an outpost for the organization he had worked for, Overwatch. A faded blue flag with the Overwatch emblem fluttered limply from a nearby flagpole as the lone traveler stopped to gather his bearings. As much as he hated to admit it, it was a depressing sight and an almost accurate image of what the globe spanning defense organization had been reduced to. The fact that the Watchpoint still seemed deserted and quiet did not bode well either.

The traveler listened for a moment and palmed the small transmitter device in his pocket. Surely he couldn't have been the only one to respond to the Recall signal… could he? Why else would he have come all this way? It was a good question that he hadn't even stopped to really ask himself. Overwatch had been disbanded for years. Based on international law, reassembling Overwatch was technically illegal... not that those rules ever really stopped him in the first place. Still, he wondered what exactly was he hoping to find by returning.

He brushed aside the nagging thoughts and spotted the signs of several footprints in the dirt. They led into the base and whether or not they were fellow Overwatch members or bandits, he couldn't be certain. The man placed a ready hand on Peacekeeper, the large futuristic revolver which hung at his hip before carefully making his way inside. After clearing the eerie deserted entrance, he followed the trail as it led toward the base's laboratories. As he entered a small atrium, he stopped when he heard some slight movement. The traveler waited several moments before instinctively whirling around and drawing his pistol on the figure which materialized behind him.

To his shock, he stood face to face with a familiar young woman about ten years his junior. She was thin with a lithe athletic frame and short spiky brown hair. She sported a brown bomber jacket with yellow leggings and the familiar blue glow of a time control device on her chest. The fellow Overwatch agent formerly codenamed Tracer crossed her arms and spoke in her clipped British accent, "Jesse McCree! That's no way to greet an old friend!"

McCree breathed a sigh of relief and lowered his revolver with a grin, "Lena. Hoo-wee, you nearly scared me half to death there little lady."

The younger woman named Lena Oxton gave a laugh and greeted him with a welcoming hug, "It's good to see you again Jesse. How long as it been?"

"Too long I reckon," the gunslinger replied with his own trademark drawl.

"Approximately five years, three months, and eleven days," came another voice from a side hallway. The large hulking form of a gorilla in white powered armor shambled out into the open dragging a large particle weapon just in case there had been an intruder.

McCree smiled and gave a small tip of his hat, "Howdy there Winston. You're lookin' good after all this time. Cut back on a few of those bananas?"

The simian scientist wrinkled his nose and gave a patient huff before leading the way back into one of the conference halls of the empty Watchpoint. "I wish I could say I missed your odd sense of humor McCree, but seeing as how we're a little short-handed I'm afraid we'll have to make do."

McCree and Lena exchanged a small grin and followed their old comrade until they reached a large meeting room. As they passed some other monitors, McCree could see Winston's AI system, Athena fully functional and working to track down other agents. The scruffy gunslinger removed his hat for a moment and scratched at his mop of messy brown hair, "If I'm readin' the cards right here, I reckon I'm the only other one who's bothered to answer the Recall?"

"I'm afraid so," Lena sighed as she time-shifted and zipped across the room to sit in one of the nearby lounge chairs. "Winston and I had been hoping to see some more old faces pop up but so far we've had very little luck."

"I can't say I really blame many of the others," Winston mused while walking toward one of the bay windows, "Ever since the Petras Act was made law, I doubt many agents would want to risk being prosecuted as a vigilante. In these five years, many of them probably went on to rebuild new lives for themselves… second chances they don't want to throw away."

"But not us," McCree muttered grimly, "That's why we're here, innit? We were all members of the original team, weren't we? When we spend so much time trying to make things right, what's left to go back to in a world that doesn't want us in the first place?"

Winston adjusted his glasses and raised a skeptical eyebrow, "Frankly, I'm surprised that you of all people returned. Perhaps you could tell us Jesse. For all your talk of doing good, whose side are you on?"

The gunslinger scowled and raised a defensive finger, "Now don't you git on me about that again Winston. You know I left Blackwatch behind. Gabriel Reyes might have been a bad apple, but I sided with Jack in the end, remember?"

"Eventually," Winston replied without trying to hide his skepticism.

Lena hopped off the couch and zipped to stand between the two and break up their quarrel, "Winston. Jesse. Enough. Winston… Jesse came back, didn't he? He answered the Recall and said he wants to do good. Shouldn't we try to give him the benefit of the doubt?"

The gorilla huffed again before lumbering over to a workstation, "I will Lena… for your sake."

"Much obliged," McCree nodded toward Lena before walking over to look out at the orange gold sun hanging over the ocean, "Fact o' the matter is, I'm not quite sure why I came back either. Maybe there's somethin' to be said for second chances, and maybe I just have nowhere else to go. When I got the Recall signal… well, comin' back just felt like the right thing to do, you know?"

Lena gave her friend a nod and gently touched his arm before walking over to help Winston at his computer console. As he stood watching the later afternoon sun hang over the skies, McCree couldn't help but wince a little. Winston having brought up his time in Blackwatch had stung him... maybe even touched a nerve. Still, his old comrade was right to be skeptical. Any old member of Overwatch would be justified in feeling the same way. By being part of the organization's black ops wing, McCree had done some questionable things in his past. Hell, he had once been part of a criminal gang before Gabriel Reyes had even recruited him to Overwatch. At the time, it was an offer he couldn't refuse: either rot in jail with the rest of the Deadlock Gang or put his skills to good use in aiding others.

Under Reyes' training and direction, McCree realized he did enjoy trying to do the "right" thing, even if that meant sometimes crossing some lines. Still, he couldn't help but wonder what happened to the old Deadlocks. Were they still in prison? Were they scattered to the winds just like McCree's new Overwatch gang had been too? Then again, what did it matter? He had been on the losing side of both organizations and saw them broken apart leaving him alone and rudderless. Was her here because Overwatch really needed him… or was he the one who really needed Overwatch?

He pondered those thoughts while reaching for another cigar that he kept tucked away under his poncho. He put the cigar in his mouth and prepared to light it when he saw a shocking sight. In the light of the Mediterranean sun, an angelic female figure in a white suit descended down into the line of sight of the windows. Her pale blonde hair waved in the wind as a pair of technologically created wings fanned out from her back allowing her to hover and peer inside the base. The angel stopped and her eyes went wide just as McCree stepped back and opened his mouth in shock, "Mercy…"

His unlit cigar tumbled to ground as Lena glanced over and zipped to the window in sudden excitement. "Oh my gosh! Winston! Open the windows, quick! It's Dr. Ziegler!"

The gorilla pressed a button at his console and watched as the large bay windows of the base retracted allowing entry to the winged figure outside. The beautiful blonde woman touched down gently and deactivated her wings gracing everyone with a soft angelic smile, "Hello."

The room fell silent in the presence of the angelic Overwatch agent before Lena clasped her hands and gave her a hug, "Dr Ziegler! You're back too!"

"Yes, thank you. It is good to be back," she replied with her Swiss accent while gently stroking Tracer's hair. She turned her eyes on the other two men in the room, "Winston, I'm happy to see you again. And Jesse…"

McCree blinked in shock before removing his hat in a respectful way, "Angela… I… welcome back."

Dr. Angela Ziegler fixed him with a curious expression before nodding and joining the others around a nearby table. The former head of Overwatch's medical division gave a discouraged look, "I thought things looked quiet on the outside of the base. I just didn't think it would be this quiet."

"There's always hope," Winston replied with a slight melancholy in his voice, "We're still trying to contact the other agents around the world. Maybe a few more will return."

"Until then, I reckon we figure out what to do bout our chain o' command," McCree said as he recovered his cigar and stuck it at the side of his mouth, "Now that Jack's gone, we're a little short in the leadership department."

"You aren't nominating yourself for that position, are you Jesse?" Angela asked him pointedly with a raised eyebrow.

"It's not like I want to here," McCree argued, "But if we're going to be running strike and fade operations, we're going to need someone with a lot of experience in that sort of thing."

"That's what concerns me," Angela said carefully, "I mean… you were once…"

"Aw hell Angela, not you too," McCree exclaimed indignantly, "Are you gonna rake me over the coals for once running with Reyes too?"

Angela looked away with a conflicted look causing her old comrade to stop too, "I'm sorry Jesse. But you have to understand…"

"Naw, I get it. I made some mistakes before… a whole lot of em, and I'm still gonna have to pay for it, right?" McCree grumbled.

"Actually, Angela is right to be wary of Blackwatch," Winston said grimly, "I have reason to believe that Reyes might still be alive and operating under a different alias."

The others sat and listened as Winston recounted the attack on Watchpoint Gibraltar by operatives of the terrorist cell called Talon. Leading the assault was a shadowy supervillain by the name of Reaper whom Winston barely fended off.

"It's because of him that I activated the recall," the gorilla explained, "I'm not sure yet if this Reaper guy is in fact Reyes, but if he and his Talon organization are on the rise, then something has to be done about it. There's enough conflict going on with the growing threat of another Omnic crisis."

Everyone fell silent again before Angela spoke, "If Overwatch is going to have to go back into action, then its operatives and innocent civilians will come into harms way. I can't ignore their suffering. I won't."

"Cheers to that. Count me in too," Lena added with an enthusiastic fist pump. She turned to McCree, "How about you cowboy?"

McCree looked slowly to Winston and Angela before putting his cigar away and stalking off toward the living quarters, "If I'm gonna have to earn my keep, then I might as well start making myself useful and cleaning the old joint up."

Meanwhile, in the arid deserts of central Mexico, a heavily armed gang of brigands returned to a secret underground cavern which they used as their lair. The outlaws were dressed in blood red cloaks with skull masks topped with fearsome horns. As they filed into their hideout, they gave joyous whoops and cheers as they dropped several large sacks full of money from their recent armed bank heist. To any common citizen in the region, they would have been able to easily identify them as "Los Diablos" one of the most violent and ruthless gangs terrorizing the countryside. What they didn't know was the dark history of the gang or what it had originally evolved from over the course of five years.

As the youngest of the bandits tossed the last sack of cash in the corner, the leader of the gang removed his disguise and gave a disapproving scowl. Javier Santiago was a muscular Hispanic man in his late thirties with short black hair and even darker eyes. He bore an old scar across his face which marred his otherwise handsome features and he narrowed his gaze on some of the younger members of the bandits, "That last part of the heist was sloppy."

One of the other outlaws shrugged and took a big celebratory swig of tequila from a bottle they had stored, "So we had to shoot a few people to get clear of the scene. We still got the money didn't we?"

Santiago's eyes flared and he quickly drew a pistol. Just like lightning, he fired the gun and the bullet shattered the bottle spraying liquor everywhere, "You wound up having to kill people because you didn't follow my orders. You follow my instructions exactly or next time, that bullet will shatter your skull instead. You got that?"

The other Diablos stood frozen in silence before nodding slowly and continuing with a more subdued celebration. As Santiago sat down to rest and ponder the gang's next move, a shadowy mist quickly swept into the cave. The other Diablos jumped in surprise and Santiago raised his eyes just as a grim malevolent figure materialized from the smoke. A tall powerful man dressed in flowing black robes and a skull mask strode forward leaving the bandits in a state of terrified awe.

The Talon operative known to many only as Reaper approached with a menacing air, "Los Diablos. I hope I'm not interrupting."

The gang leader sat back and regarded the super-powered terrorist with cool disinterest, "No Senor. They were just going to start thinking of how to do better on their next job."

"Good," Reaper replied, "Because I need you and your men to be ready for a special assignment."

Santiago's muscles tightened, "Oh? What sort of job? Is there a big payout?"

Reaper nodded his head, "I will make sure Los Diablos are compensated generously. I've never done you wrong before."

The gang leader let out a breath, "All right. What do you need us to do?"

The black robed terrorist turned and began to idly pace the cavern, "I need your group to go back to its roots... of hijacking and running high grade weapons. I need you to do the same things you practiced when you used to be the Deadlock Gang."

Santiago crossed his arms with a bored yawn, "That doesn't sound too hard. What are we talking here? Military grade weapons? High yield explosives?"

"No. Nanobots," Reaper answered as he turned to face the outlaw gang, "The Talon organization intends to steal special nanobot technology that the UN government is preparing to weaponize against the Omnics. Before we do that, we need the access codes to the specialized control canister filled with the bots."

Santiago scratched his chin and thought it through, "That sounds a little more involved than the jobs we normally pulled. What if we were to decline?"

Reaper laughed for a long moment before swiftly pulling one of his shotguns and aiming it directly at Santiago's head, "You are in no position to refuse me. I was the one who freed you Deadlocks from prison after Overwatch fell. I was the one who gave you special training and weapons so that you could carve out your little territory here. Unless you want Talon to take all that back from you, you wouldn't be wise to refuse our requests."

The other Diablos looked to each other and then to Reaper wondering if they would be able to draw their weapons in time to fire at the malevolent supervillain. Santiago calmly raised his hands and gestured for everyone to settle down before nodding, "You made your point amigo. Los Diablos are in your debt and will help in your plan."

Reaper swiftly twirled his weapon and tucked it away with a nod, "Excellent. We will be in contact soon to give you the details of the plan."

With that, Reaper became a black smoky cloud and rapidly swept out of the cave while his sinister laughter echoed along the dark walls of the forbidding cave.