Zürich, Germany.
Angela Zeigler traced her hand over the past.
The light rain that pattered at the windows of her uptown apartment had made her feel melancholy, if anything else.
The glass of the frame had the faint traces of her fingerprints from the last time she wanted to feel something. She found her hand had always rested on her own youthful face, smiling in-between Reyes and Morrison. Two phantoms now.
But I'm still here, she thought. Reyes never smiled, but he was then. She still felt his arm around her, and Morrison's around her waist.
"Come on, take a picture with us," she remembered pleading to Reyes who gave her a coy smile and feigned agitation.
"I'll break that pretty little camera of yours with this ugly mug, Doc."
"He's right you know," Jack would fire back with a friendly jab.
That had been almost 20 years ago, back when they were a family. Back when Angela would dine with her fellow men and women, laughing and smiling over the odd glass of wine and the friendly banter while Wilhelm would scoop them up into an unprompted hug, and Lena would playfully zip around.
Winston would attempt to quell the chaos, always unable to.
Anna would never say much to Angela, not when their eyes would cross over Jack.
That was decades ago.
Now, Angela ate in her quiet apartment with her own company being the faint purring of her aging cat at her feet, it's white and orange fur fading through the years.
This was one of those nights she would remember Overwatch.
She would still go and help those in need of course, but her Valkyrie suit lacked the sheen and polish it once had- her wings were growing listless, and her halo was rusting.
In the living room, her furniture faced the cityscape around her, visible from her wall-high windows that led to a modest balcony where a teacup was now overflowing with the steady rainwater. Files and folders full of medical records replaced where photos and trinkets would be in anyone else's home.
A computer sat in the corner of the living room, a channel always open just in case the right people needed to find her.
Angela looked over to the clear glass display of her television mounted just above a small cabinet and thought twice about turning it on. Watching the devastation in Russia was too much, especially knowing she could do nothing about it. The TV blipped on anyway though, a phone call was coming in.
Encrypted from the United Nations. Angela knew that meant she would need to find her passport and credentials.
"Miss Zeigler?" The faceless man on the channel spoke, a soft voice with an accent she couldn't place.
"Speaking." She replied, barley recognizing her own voice after her quiet afternoon.
"We're sending you important information- an Anti Omnic group has begun an aggressive assault in the Middle East upon many Shambali shrines. The most recent was in a city square in Hadiqat Hadia, Israel that left 20 dead and many more injured."
Angela closed her eyes to take a breath.
"When do you need me there?"
"Yesterday, Angela. We don't know when the next incident could occur. You have a flight from the Kloten Airport tomorrow at noon."
The voice fell quiet, waiting for her questions. When the man on the other end of the line realized she had none, he spoke again:
"Thank you. Report back to me with any questions."
The line was cut, and Angela began to realize that as time went on, her ability to be shocked by anything had been taken away. Numbed. Her PDA blipped at her hip, likely the files being downloaded.
Night was falling, and the darkened sky was now ashen. Streaks of grey and black that were more calming to her now than they were foreboding. That's when she noticed it- the faint black smoke tracing across her balcony.
Was something on fire? No. Surely not.
She stepped around her couch, her hardwood floors creaking gently as her smooth feet carried her over them was the only sound aside from the faint rumble of thunder. That's when she noticed the smoke was rising and falling, growing thicker.
She stood inches away from the glass, eyes watching intently. Her hand placed against the cold surface to prop her up as she leaned in.
Her reflection began to change, and where her smooth white features once stood out from the rainy city, two black eyes began to manifest in the center of a slender mask.
She jumped back as the smoke became a person, and the person became a monster.
But if it's a monster… Angela couldn't bring herself to run or to fight. Instead she watched the figure just as it watched her. The rain soaking into the jet-black hood hoisted around it's mask as the full-bodied specter raised a clawed, armored hand to her glass.
Something about it calmed her. The presence was familiar.
She reached for the handle of the door to open it, but as fast as it had appeared, the creature was gone in a trail of the same black smoke.
That's when it occurred to her she had seen that mask before.
She made that mask.