WARNING: Mentions of abuse, PTSD, depression and a slight hint of suicidal thoughts.
Prologue
Two Sides of the Same Coin
He couldn't believe it. All this time, their victories had been molded by the UN to make it seem like they've done a lot, but really, only one fourth of the work was by them. Overwatch was a group of great scientists, soldiers and oddities. They were the heroes of the story. Yet, they weren't really. They were only propaganda to hide the United Nations dirty little secret. Blackwatch, the real heroes of the story.
Winston stared at the burning building of what was once the Overwatch Headquarters. Around him were his fellow agents that had survived the explosion, all looking angry, shocked and disappointed. They all couldn't believe it. Why would the United Nations create Overwatch if they had Blackwatch?
Since the people needed hope, they needed other people to look up to. Why would they have hope for a group of former criminals, murderers and addicts? They wanted inspiring people, people with good moral and clean backgrounds. Not damaged ones that were left to rot.
The gorilla sighed, knowing fully well that Overwatch was going to be shut down for good after this. Jack Morrison, their Strike-Commander, was trapped in a room with the a Commander from Blackwatch, Gabriel Reyes. Both of them were probably dead now. Winston felt grief and guilt in his chest for leaving Jack, but he was ordered to save the others from the burning building. The farm boy always placed others before himself.
"Winston!"
He remembered the determined look on Jack's face when he gave him the order. Also the look Gabriel had which sent chills down the gorilla's back. What had happened to the once gentle and kind man that was Gabriel Reyes?
"Winston!"
Blackwatch. That's what happened. Winston laughed darkly to himself. Who knew Gabriel Reyes was-
"WINSTON!"
Growling, he swiftly turned to the source of the voice, finding tall woman with light tan skin and dark brunette hair that was tied into a long ponytail carrying an unconscious woman with short brown stylish gelled hair wearing a bomber jacket, tight orange leggings and a bulky chest plate that glowed blue in the middle. It was Amélie Lacroix carrying Lena Oxton towards him. Both had ash marks and cuts on them. The rage and guilt that was burning in the gorilla washed away when he saw Lena.
"What on earth happened to her?" Winston immediately took Lena out of the woman's hands, looking over for fatal injuries or cuts. Fortunately, he spotted none.
"S-he… She tried to save Jack," The French gasped out, her voice shaky. Winston was about to tell her to go away when he realized that tears were streaming from the woman's eyes.
That's right. Her husband was in there too. The scientist wondered if she truly loved him, considering she was a Blackwatch agent. Oh, how'd she played all of them good. She was no citizen, not for the past six years. How Gérard didn't find out was a mystery to all of them. Then again, he never talked about his love life.
"Explain," Winston said, cradling the unconscious Tracer in his arms. Amélie looked at him, eyes no dried of tears.
"What?" Her accent seemed thicker, like she would rather speak in her native tongue.
"Start from the beginning. I want answers, Widowmaker. Why did this happen? Why would Gabriel do this?"
The woman who was worried about her husband's current status slowly disappeared, revealing the now former Blackwatch agent. Wiping the tears from her eyes, Amélie looked down at the burning building.
"It was about 3 years ago from today."
"Woohoo! Cheers love! The cavalry's here!" A high, bubbly enthusiastic voice that could only belong to the one and only Lena Oxton, otherwise known as Tracer, whose charming British accent captured many of her fellow Overwatch agents' attention.
Surrounding the 24 year old were her fellow well-known agents. Right next to her was a woman in a Valkyrie suit, light blonde hair put up in a ponytail and blue eyes scanning the people around her, looking for any apparent injuries. Angela Ziegler, call sign Mercy, the head of Overwatch's medical research team. The Swiss woman was very overprotective to everyone in Overwatch, earning the nickname "Mom" from various agents.
"The cavalry's been here, little one," A deep, affable voice boomed, laughing when the towering knight saw Tracer's pout.
Reinhardt Wilhelm was one of the oldest Overwatch members and it was surprising to see him still able to keep up with the newer agents. The guy was undoubtedly buff, considering his armor probably weighs as much as he does and tall, probably around six foot or more. For someone who was 52 years old, he sure was healthy and fit. He was nicknamed "Grandpa" by all of the younger Overwatch agents, especially Tracer. He sort of did remind Tracer of her own grandfather.
"We are done here, correct?" The two turned around to find a massive gorilla in a massive white combat suit came up to them, adjusting his glasses.
Winston was one of their best scientists and the one who had made Tracer's chronal accelerator and dual pistols. He never gave up on the young pilot and it definitely made the two close. To Tracer, Winston was a second father to her. The gorilla was unique and the only one who had survived the Moon Catastrophe. Very few Overwatch agents have the guts to call him the Overwatch's household pet, since he is the only animal in Overwatch. Also he might rage on them if they called him a pet.
"Yes, we could go back to the King's Row Watchpoint and let the assigned agents finish the job here," A man with short, military cut blonde hair and sharp blue eyes informed the small group, looking at them with pride.
Jack Morrison, one of the great leaders of Overwatch, was a man of great potential. He was always expecting a simple life for him. Join the military, help others and go back to take care of his family farm. Although life decided to give him a much more than a simple life he thought he would have. Chosen to be part of a special group of super soldiers and then becoming an iconic figure of Overwatch was something he would never thought he could be. The super soldier was definitely proud about his accomplishments in his beginning years of service.
"Hm… I sense a party is going to happen when we get back…" Mercy said, walking over to Tracer with her staff, a small yellow ray emitting from the staff, healing a small cut on Tracer's elbow.
"Ah thanks love! Didn't notice it there," The former pilot said, a wide smile on her face as Reinhardt laughed.
"You are very lucky that it was not a deeper cut, for I would have to put stitches," The Swiss woman said, smiling as Tracer awkwardly laughed at her comment. The overly energetic woman never liked needles.
"The fact that their leader was found dead was surprising and it made this battle all too easy for us, but this is a huge victory! One of the main leaders of the rebels are dead and this could certainly cripple our enemies!" The German knight boomed, slapping Winston on the back. The gorilla sighed, adjusting his glasses once again and nodded.
"We are no longer at war, Sir Wilhelm. Although, it was surprising. Their leader was always spotted among large crowds miles away from the battle, but he was always spotted after the battle is over and all of our soldiers were either too busy or injured to go after him," Winston had his "theorizing" face on with his two huge fingers scratching his chin, "I wonder who killed him… They must have a lot of experience in assassinations… Or just pure luck."
Tracer pouted and elbowed the chest part of the scientist's suit, "Don't think so much about it love! All that matters is we're all safe and maintainin' the peace!"
"She's right, all of us agents need a break from work sometimes so..." Jack looked back to rest of the agents and made a loud noise from his throat to catch their attention, "Listen up! Tonight we will hold a celebration for this victory! At the bar near the base in King's Row! All drinks are on me!"
The agents erupt into a massive cry of cheers as Tracer blinked excitedly onto Winston's back, demanding the gorilla to move his "arse" so they could rest up before the party. Mercy and Reinhardt followed them, conversing about how carefree young people are nowadays. Jack snickered when Reinhardt made a comment about how young ones are like batteries on those phones he could never understand how to use. After a few minutes of rest they're back to a hundred percent.
Seeing the small group of four enter an airship to go back to the base, the commander looked around, surveying the results of battle. Only a handful of agents were injured, but no casualties. Jack had to agree with the old knight and gorilla, without a leader, these Omnics and few human rebels was no match to Overwatch. Despite the various reports of the leader being spotted, no one in the organization was sent to go after the leader. Even though it was logical to send someone, it'll be too much of a pain due to the amount of publicity Overwatch has. The leader could easily slip from their grasp from the crowd who would surround the agent. Besides, there was no agent that was trained to track and assassinate an enemy commander or any target. So whoever had done it, they had to be an assassin to do it.
Jack smiled as he watched the innocents that had been caught up in the battle be reunited with friends and loved ones. It was a sight for sore eyes. It's been twelve years since the end of the Omnic Crisis and there were still small rebel groups. Although they weren't a big enough of a threat to go after at the time, but lately things began to get more extreme and so Overwatch has been incredibly busy for the past three years all because of an assassination of one of the greatest peacemakers in the world, Irene Wilson. A woman who was once a soldier became a great political leader and helped to write the peace treaty between the humans and the Omnics. The commander could remember that day clearly.
It was hosted in Numbani, with many people from various countries united to celebrate the twelfth year of peace between the Omnics and humans. Almost all of the Overwatch agents attended deciding to just watch within the crowd of people. As soon as the Omnic peace leader, Tekhartha Mondatta, shook hands with Irene Wilson, a shot was heard in the distance and the once powerful woman fell onto the ground, dead within a second. After that, everything was a blur. The citizens began running as the Overwatch agents looked for the sniper that had took the shot. Unfortunately, the assassin was never found.
Clang!
A sound of something metallic being kicked broke Jack's grim reminisce of the past. Turning around, he spotted four people waiting for the cargo door to open to an airship, two women and two men. One of the women wore a typical blue worn out Overwatch battle suit and a recon sniper rifle rested at her side as she looked at the shorter girl next to her. The girl simply wore a white and red vest with the hood over her head, black joggers and a black long sleeve rolled up to her elbows. They seem to be conversing about how one man was clutching at his foot cursing angrily while the other smoked a cigarette. The one clutching his foot was an African American man wearing a simple gray long sleeve jacket, tight navy blue pants with black greaves, a black beanie and a black chest plate. The one smoking wore a cowboy outfit, smiling widely as the cargo door began to open.
Jack recognized only one person in the group, which was the man that kicked the door and was spitting out curse words. Gabriel Reyes, his former best friend. He hasn't talked or seen his fellow super soldier since the incident in Numbani. Sure, he knew that they were both busy due to their jobs since that specific attack that left the world in panic, but he didn't know that with him commanding Overwatch and Gabriel commanding his own little unit, the drift between them was growing at an incredible rate and Jack could feel the neglected tension between them strain. The four entered the airship and as soon as the cowboy dropped his cigarette onto the floor and stepped into the ship, the doors began to close.
As Jack watched the airship begin to take off to who knows where, the Strike-Commander couldn't help wonder why Gabriel was here in the first place when there was no call sent to him about the mission.
"Not again!" The sound of clay colliding against the cement walls echoed throughout the empty room filled with various objects used to prepare for missions.
Gabriel began to spit out various curses in English as a group of three people behind him, who were currently unloading their gear, frowned at his actions.
"C'était un joli vase," A tall woman with light tan skin and dark brunette hair that was tied into a long ponytail muttered, fumbling with her visor, as she gazed at the angry man who began to pace around the room. She was taking off the bulky blue standard Overwatch suit, mumbling about how she should've used the lightweight suit or wore casual clothing instead of the heavy suit.
"Un joli vase en effet," The shortest person in the room responded, removing her hood to reveal a young woman who had dark brown, seemingly black from afar, shoulder length hair with the middle part tied into a small wolf tail. Her deep blue eyes didn't have its glow of youth like others who were the woman's age.
"Ok, ok, let's speak English shall we? (And stop with the italicized dialogue bs) 'Cause not all of us here can understand and speak fluent French," A man dressed in a cowboy fashion took off his hat and threw it like a frisbee to the coffee table next to the pacing soldier, "Also, Alex, aren't you Asian? When did you learn how to speak fluent French?"
The short woman shrugged, "Traveling around several different homes of people of different nationalities for the past five years kind of teaches you the primary language of their household," She walked over the to one of the couches beside the coffee table, flopping down on the old furniture with her feet resting next to their teammate's hat, "Also I'm half-Asian. Get your facts straight McCree."
The cowboy scowled at her and spat at the dirty floor beneath him, dropping his pistol on the table next to the various other weapons and equipment. He walked over, passing their still pacing leader, and flopped down next to the young woman. As Alex began to fiddle with his hat, Jesse stared at the furious face of their leader, and frowned at how he was reacting to Overwatch's victory. Jesse McCree was an outlaw, trying to undo his sins while Gabriel Reyes was a prideful man, wanting to be seen as a hero he was, not some agent the UN can throw around and another super soldier that would only be a memory to the people who knew him. Seeing how the soldier was furious on the justice they've done, and that Overwatch has taken complete credit once again for their work, made Jesse question his leader. Was jealousy finally consuming Gabriel's rationality?
"Se détendre commandant," The French woman spoke, sauntering over to the couch across her two companions, sitting down to join the conversation officially, "At least we don't have to follow rules and laws like those heroes."
Even with the thick French accent, that is sometimes hard to understand, the way Amélie Lacroix said 'heroes' sent chills down Alex and Jesse's backs. The 25-year-old French woman was the wife of an Overwatch agent, Gérard Lacroix. How she ended up as an agent of Blackwatch when everyone thinks she's a simple innocent woman was a mystery. It truly was hard to understand her motives, since she portrays two personalities. The one in which everyone knows and sees is a quiet and polite woman who loves to teach others and fight for equal rights for everyone. The one Blackwatch sees is a ruthless and provocative agent that could kill with barely any hesitation. Amélie Lacroix was deadly, possibly even more deadly than her husband and her husband has survived multiple assassination attempts from various rebel groups, on his own.
"We don't, but they take all the damn credit of our work!" Gabriel spat, receiving his team's full attention once again, "All we are to the UN are disposable agents that are needed to do the dirty work for Overwatch so they could go ahead and receive all the victories we technically won!"
Amélie frowned at the comment. Though what her commanding officer says is true, she couldn't help but feel that his pride was starting to get the better of him. To her, it didn't matter who gets the credit in the media's eyes. Completing the mission is what matters most in order to maintain the peace between the humans and Omnics.
"So what does it matter? They're as disposable as we are. Besides, why are you getting worked up about it? We're doing as much good as they are. The difference is they show it to the public and the press bombards them. Us? We get to live the quiet life while saving others at the same time," Alex pointed out, sinking deeper at the old worn out brown couch.
"Alex is right boss. Overwatch could take all the fame and those annoyin' gossipers. Blackwatch? We could enjoy peace and the freedom we have in this damn organization," Jesse added on, lighting a cigarette. No matter how many times his teammates tried to get him out of his disgusting addiction of smoking, Jesse couldn't stop. He felt like it was something he couldn't live without, especially with the stressful job he has.
'One wrong move McCree and you're going straight to life in prison.'
They told him when they gave him a choice of either serving in the war or going to prison. He would rather try to fix his mistakes then dwell on it in a secluded cell for the rest of his life.
"What peace? What freedom? The moment we joined Blackwatch both of those rights were stripped away from us!" Gabriel snapped, shocking the three. He pointed at Amélie, "Your our number one assassin and sniper. From what I hear from your husband, you've been having nightmares and restless nights of tossing and turning and mumbling in your sleep. You can't leave this organization because you know too much about it and you're one of their best agents. They'll kill you or your husband, maybe even both of you, if you left. One wrong move and maybe you'll become one of their experiments."
Amélie's playful expression became one of sadness, pain and anger. She tried her best to conceal it, but with their few years together as a team, it was translucent to the three. The French woman deeply cared about her husband and it was her greatest weakness. Her husband had saved her from her abusive household, in which she was eternally grateful for. He was the one that helped her see the good in humanity and made her safe from her parents. If anything were to happen to him, she might as well be dead. Gabriel then looked to Alex with a face of a killer. Gone was the quiet, gentle man the women once saw in him.
"You are, unfortunately, our best tactical agent. Since you're also our youngest agent and you still have yet to mature completely, I could tell you suffer from PTSD and depression. I've also seen it on your medical files after your check-up last week. This organization is the only thing making you get up in the morning and the reason why you're still alive. Leaving it would probably make you homeless and have nothing to support your sister or your dog. You probably should've stayed in foster care."
The tactician's jaw clenched and her fists were shut tight, glaring at her commanding officer. Her blue eyes then darted down, glaring saddened daggers onto the floor. She knew what he was saying was true. Her parents were killed during the Omnic Crisis, forcing her and her sister into foster care. As soon as the opportunity of living on her own came up, she took it. Although, struggling with school and supporting her family at the same time, she ended up turning to the military to help support what remains of her family. Although, being the tender age of seventeen at the time she joined the military, her mentality has slowly been deteriorating. Causing her mental illnesses to worsen, something that 19 year olds don't typically go through. The commander finally turned to Jesse, who stared at him with the same scowl.
"And you…" Gabriel moved closer to the cowboy, that was also his student, "You're our best sharpshooter when it comes to close and mid-range. You're also the longest person to survive in my team. Everyone else either left or died. I've taught you everything you know. Hell, it seems like you're the only one on this team with peace, but I know you Jesse. And you are definitely not at peace with yourself. The only reason why you're still here is because you want to seek justice for yourself and you don't want to end up in prison."
Jesse huffed at the comment and blew out light gray colored smoke. Everything their commander said was the truth and Jesse knew that. He also knew that Gabriel has finally reached his breaking point, like every soldier will later on. Of course, Gabriel didn't teach him everything he knew. He had a few tricks up his sleeve, but he rather not reveal it to them unless necessary. Who knows how long this team thing would last. The cowboy's previous group didn't last and by the looks of their commanding officer, this group won't last after Gabriel has what he truly wants.
"Cet homme est devenu fou," Amélie silently whispered, covering her face with her hands, lightly shaking her head, "I cannot believe this…"
"So what do you want to do about this then?" Jesse muttered to the man towering before him.
"What?" Anger was still laced in the soldier's voice, causing the cowboy to stand up and hold his colleague by the collar of his shirt.
"What the fuck do you want to do about this then? Here you are whining about how Overwatch is stealing our spotlight, our sanity, and you're not doing shit about it!" Jesse screamed, pushing Gabriel onto the ground, towering over him, "You remind us of everything we're suffering because of those goody two shoes and yet you're not telling us jackshit of what you want to do about it. We're fucking Blackwatch! Rules and laws don't apply to us."
Placing his boot onto the soldier's chest, lightly applying weight onto him. Gabriel glared at him. Amélie still had her face in her hands, not wanting to look at the situation next to her. Alex quietly watched, her face as blank as a white piece of paper.
"So tell us, our great commander of Blackwatch, what do you want to do to stop this vicious cycle caused by the UN and Overwatch?"
Gabriel let out a low dark laugh, grinning.
"We find a way to show the public Overwatch's dirty little secret."
A/N: And that's pretty much it to the prologue. Like all of my other (incomplete)stories, this one is on a whim! I may or may not continue, depending on how much inspiration is still in me for this story, but we'll see. Not surprise if I update this after a year! I'm playing this by ear at the moment on how I want to write the incomplete plot I have set for this story, but it's getting there!
On the side note, I do not know any French. I plan on taking classes, but we'll see about that… So for those who know French, I appreciate corrections! Currently using a translator from an app on my phone. On another note, I have an idea what pairings I want to include(can't help but include romance in my stories! Helps me continue writing XD), although I welcome suggestions. Unfortunately for those who ship Tracer and Widowmaker with other characters, I apologize. I'm a sucker for Widowmaker x Tracer, fell in love with them as soon as I saw the potential pairing in the animated short.
On ANOTHER note, (sorry for the long A/N _), there will be OCs in this story just to fill some unnamed Overwatch and Talon agents in the original storyline/artwork that Blizzard has shown us. They will not be the absolute main focus of this story. Although one or two OCs will also have their little arc in the story to add a little more original-ness to my story. Anyways, that's all I wanted to say, so till next time!
-Nexus
Translations:
C'était un joli vase - That was a pretty vase
Un joli vase en effet - A pretty vase indeed
Se détendre commandant - Relax commander
Cet homme est devenu fou - This man has gone mad
