"What did you just say?"

"I said I'm leavin'. I won't play along with your plans. Hell, the whole reason I left the Deadlock gang was because I thought things would be different here, but if that's the kinda show you're running, well, frankly I want no part in it."

Reyes leaned over his desk. "Let's get something straight here. 'We' are not Overwatch, and you are not the saint you're pretending to be. We are Blackwatch, and when the shit hits the fan, we're the ones hiding in the wings waiting to clean up the mess. That means we don't get to be proud; that means we have to get our hands dirty. You're a criminal, McCree, don't forget that. You should be relieved that you get to use your talents for the right cause rather than rot in some god-forsaken cell a mile underground. What we do here is necessary. The damn bureaucrats up top wouldn't last a minute without us doing their dirty work. Hell, this whole place would fall apart if it wasn't for us. So spare me your sappy words of remorse; we keep Overwatch alive."

McCree tilted his head down. "Do you really expect me to believe that? After everything? Covert operations and secrecy I understand. But torture? Undermining the leadership? Frankly, I'm not sure whose side you're on anymore. You sure as hell don't get along with Morrison or Ana these days. How can you just go behind their backs like this?"

Reyes chuckled. "I don't 'get along' with Morrison because he doesn't want to realize what has to be done to protect people, to protect Overwatch, to 'save the world'. When did you get so sentimental anyways?"

"I just realized who my friends are, and I don't feel like stabbing them in the back is the right move here." McCree got up and took his hat. "You don't care about people. It's always been about the power to you, and I won't fight on your side this time." He slid his hat on and stepped to the door.

Reyes looked up angrily. "What makes you think you can just walk out of here?"

McCree looked back. "I left everything in my office. Who's gonna stop me?"

There was silence for a moment. "Get out," Reyes gave one final order to his pet.

McCree stepped out of Gabriel's office and into the cold, empty tunnels deep beneath Overwatch's Swiss headquarters. McCree wondered if Reyes chose the drab style on purpose or if this was just another luxury that had been stripped away when Gabe was relegated to Blackwatch. At one time he had thought that the long, cement corridors were for intimidation and fanfare, but now he was uncertain of quite a few things. Luckily, he wouldn't have to suffer these halls any longer. With that McCree came to the massive steel elevator and began his ascent. Despite being in a top of the line facility, the elevator took a solid minute to reach the ground floor. The elevator was not defective; the distance between the ground and Blackwatch was simply that far. Now McCree would never have to ride that elevator again: that was true freedom. Though the circumstances saddened him a little, McCree was actually trying to spare all his friends a difficult hardship, even Reyes. Between Reyes and Morrison, McCree knew he would have to choose if he stayed. That was a choice he couldn't bring himself to make, but he couldn't stomach the thought of being branded a criminal again, so he had to leave. One last time he came to the door at the back of the complex.

A familiar voice greeted him. "Hello McCree," Athena chimed.

"Hello ma'am. Here to see Jack."

"Of course," Athena responded, "The commander is in his office; however, he has requested that I cease interposing between himself and the Overwatch agents. You may knock."

He knocked. "Eh, boss?"

"Yeah, come in." McCree slipped off his hat as he slowly opened the door. In his classic swivel chair sat Jack Morrison. "Just finishing up some paperwork." He said nose to the desk. "What's up?"

"Well, sir, I've got something to say."

Jack looked up from his work, and seeing the serious look on McCree's face, put aside his pen. "Have a seat." McCree readily accepted the invitation. "This must be serious," said Morrison, "You're not usually one to talk things out before hand."

Tightly grasping his hat, McCree nodded. "That's just it, sir. I'm leaving. Leaving Overwatch, I mean."

Jack sunk back into his chair. "Have you talked to Reyes about this?"

"Actually, I just got done talking to him."

"And?" Jack asked, "How'd he take it?"

McCree sighed. "About as well as I had hoped."

"Hmph," Jack snorted, "Well, I'll spare you the trouble of an argument. There's just the matter of surrendering your badge and all other forms of Overwatch id and…"

McCree chuckled. "Knew you'd try somethin' like this. But it's all taken care of; cleared out my office this morning."

Jack nodded. "Well, I guess that's everything, if you're sure?" The two men sat in silence for a moment. McCree and Morrison were probably more similar than either wanted to admit: both driven by devotion, honor, and morality. Though they did not always see eye to eye, McCree was undoubtedly one of Overwatch's best agents and Morrison one of his greatest mentors. Beyond that there was a certain kinship between them or, as Winston would say on occasion, they were "family". "It's been a pleasure, McCree." Jack extended his hand over the desk.

McCree tightly clasped his commander's hand. "Likewise, partner."

Jack laughed. "I'm going to miss those late night card games of yours."

"That reminds me." McCree reached into his pocket and then dropped a deck of cards on the desk. "Something to remember me by."

Jack lightly ran his hand over the stack. "Your deck."

"Figure I won't have much time for games while I'm on the move, so you should have 'em." McCree stood up and adjusted his hat.

"Will you go back to the States?" Morrison asked.

"Maybe." McCree said, "I hear there's plenty of companies looking for private security these days. I'm sure I'll find something." He stepped to the door.

"Hey," Morrison called after him. "I don't like saying goodbye to agents, especially ones in body bags." He sighed. "That's happening more and more these days." Both men looked downcast. "Take care of yourself, McCree. I don't want to do that for you."

McCree gently smiled saying, "Always have; always will." He opened the door. "See ya, Jack."

"Goodbye, Jesse."

Stepping out the door, McCree was greeted by the beautiful and venomous Ana Amari. "Ma'am," he said tipping his hat with his signature grin. "You'd better get in there. Think he's gonna need you."

"McCree, I hope you haven't been tormenting Jack with your games again."

McCree chuckled. "See ya' captain." With that he walked off to seek out his future.

Ana entered the Strike Commander's office as he was fawning over the deck McCree had just gifted him. "Did he beat you at cards again?" she asked, "Jack, you really shouldn't let him embarrass you like that."

Jack laughed quietly as he looked at a card in his hand. "I think he embarrassed himself more than me." He showed the card to Ana. "The jack of hearts; the jack of hearts was on top."

Ana snickered. "Funny."

"It's a nice change from all the gloom and doom around here," Jack said, "Anyways do you have a report?"

Ana's face took on a more somber appearance. "Another squad was lost."

Jack sunk into his chair, his face a mix of anger and grief. "Talon?"

"Well, no reports we've received have been conclusive."

"Of course," Jack sighed, "Ever since Gérard's death, it's like there hasn't been anything to stop them."

"They've grown more bold as of late," Ana said, "Perhaps too bold."

Jack looked up. "Oh no. Ana don't tell me you're thinking… If those plans fall into the wrong hands, there's no telling the kind of destruction that will follow!"

Ana bent over the desk. "And what will happen when there are none of us left to defend those plans, Jack!? This is our best option; it's our only option." Jack clenched his fists, his face to the desk. "Look, think it over. There's still time, and you've got an organization to run. Angela was calling for you."

"Dr. Ziegler?" Jack lifted his head, "What about?"

"Oh, I don't know," Ana sighed, "Probably another one of your bi-weekly checkups." She rolled her eyes.

"Hey!" Jack retorted, "It's not like I ask for the attention."

"Oh, please," Ana snickered, "You like being mothered by her and you know it."

"Sometimes I wonder why I accept this crap from you."

"Perhaps the soldier enhancements make it more exciting for you."

Getting up, Jack grabbed a jacket from his rack. "Alright, while I'm gone I have a new task for you. Find Genji and don't report back until you do."

Ana crossed her arms. "That's impossible. No one knows where he is; no one's seen him in near a month."

Jack shrugged. "So don't report back." He walked past his second in command and out of his office, leaving Ana to her bitterness.

A SHORT WHILE LATER...


Strike Commander Jack Morrison stepped into Overwatch HQ's medical wing. Though thoughts of dead field agents swirled in his mind, he knew he couldn't let that distract him from the choices he had to make regarding Overwatch secret project. Ana was certainly adamant that the plans were the key to drawing out Talon, but Jack wasn't ready to just lay such heavily guarded secrets on the table. With all the conflict and lost soldiers around him, Jack needed a diversion: something to escape if only for a moment. Certainly, Angela could provide such diversion.

Jack entered a large medical research room filled with odd bobbles and contraptions that only medical professional of the highest echelon could fathom. Off to one side several auspicious scientist stood, barely noticing the commander as he entered. Angela on the other hand was standing near the center of the room and immediately greeted him.

"I'm glad to see the commander actually heeded one of my calls today," Angela mocked.

"Sorry to disrupt the good doctor's time tables, but I've got a significant staff that needs attending."

"It's nice to hear your excuses," Angela snickered, "I was beginning to think you were avoiding me on purpose."

"Maybe I was," retorted the commander.

"But you weren't, as you said... which makes me think you're a little embarrassed of coming here."

Jack shifted. "Mercy stop."

Angela blushed. "Jack, don't call me that while we're not in the field."

"Okay doc."

"Stop."

"Make me."

"Alright, alright," Angela answered, "And then we'll check you out and make sure you're in top condition. Sound good?"

"I'm not sure these frequent checkups are good for my image," Jack said as he approached Angela, "People whisper, you know."

Angela prepped some medical utensils as she asked, "And what do they whisper? About us?"

"Oh yeah," Jack responded, "They talk about us like we're in love." Angela began by examining Jack's eyes. "They talk about how you administer medical attention for me so gently." Next, she examined his ears. "They talk about how I let you have free reign over the place like you're third in command." Then she examined his reflexes. "They talk about how we look at each other in the halls when we stop for a passing conversation."

"So," Angela said, "Everyone's already talking about us like we're a couple. Why don't you enjoy it a little?"

Jack snorted. "I don't mix work and pleasure."

"This place isn't work," Mercy laughed, "It's more like a family reunion that never ends but with weapons of mass destruction."

Jack let out something that sounded like a cross between a laugh and a grumble. "Why did you actually call me down here, Angela? I know it couldn't have been for the physical; had one too recently."

"Fine," she responded, relinquishing her tools, "A few Overwatch science officers I had never met before came to me, talking about radiation protection. They wouldn't go into any sort of detail with me; they just needed a significant amount of shielding. Now, radiation protection has never been my area of expertise, so I directed them to our large stockpile of military grade radiation equipment. However, these scientists insisted that preemptive measures had to be taken to reverse and repair unprecedented levels of radiation damage. For me, this would be a relatively simple project, but they refuse to tell me anything about the circumstances or sensitivities of the radioactive situation."

"Ah," Jack perked up, "So that's what this is about. Guess I should have expected this." He locked eyes with Mercy. "Fine. I trust you. Get your coat; we're going for a drive."

SOME TIME PASSED...


The standard Overwatch armored vehicle hummed as Jack drove deeper into the Swiss forest. The overhanging trees painted a beautiful canopy with their colorful foliage, but the only people around to admire the beauty were Jack and Angela, for miles around it seemed. The distance was a necessary precaution to guard the most dangerous secrets of Overwatch.

"Jack, where are we going?" Angela asked, "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to take me on a date."

Jack laughed. "We built this facility a few years back, off the books. We couldn't have anyone poking their noses around the secrets projects Overwatch had initiated."

Angela looked at Jack. "You mean spies?"

"Spies, Omnics, terrorists, government politicians: the kind of stuff Overwatch needed to hide could be valuable to all sorts and even more dangerous."

"So, whatever radiation these scientists need protecting from is emanating within this facility? You know, I'm rather surprised you never told me about all this." Angela said giving Morrison a stern gaze.

Jack glanced at her. "Sorry. These secrets are strictly need to know, not only for the safety of the secrets but for the safety of the agents who don't carry them. So long as nobody knows, nobody can leak a word of this. I certainly didn't want to put you in that kind of danger." Angela seemed happy with that answer. Looking through the curtain of trees, Jack could barely make out their destination. "There it is."

As they came around the final bend, Angela could see what looked like the shoddiest log cabin ever constructed by human hands. "It certainly looks like cutbacks have been made on the Overwatch construction teams," she said.

Jack smiled. "I think you'll change your mind on that pretty quick." Getting out of the car, he walked up to the entrance of the cabin, and Mercy trailed shortly after. The cabin door had a small, dirty window at head level. Jack showed his id through the window and some electrical buzzing could barely be heard from the other side. Then the door gradually swung open. Inside the entire cabin was made of reinforced metallic alloy standardized in most Overwatch facilities. They were greeted by no less than ten well-armed Overwatch operatives. The soldiers formed a pathway to an oversized elevator and saluted the Strike Commander as he passed.

When they came to the elevator, the soldier at the end of the line whispered something into Jack's ear. "What?" Jack stammered, "You're serious?" The soldier nodded. The elevator chimed as it arrived, and Angela stepped inside with Jack.

The steel doors sealed shut. "Something wrong?" Angela asked.

Jack grumbled. "Winston's been getting into trouble."

"What?" Angela exclaimed, "You put Winston over here, and you only just now told me about this place?"

"Winston is a crucial part of the team over here. Seriously, I don't remember you being so petty when we brought you on the Overwatch team."

Angela sighed. "Watching my life's work be transformed into the very things I swore never to create has done catastrophic things to my mental state."

"The weapons we've made with your nano technology are nothing compared to what could have been. Actually, you've been rather spoiled in that regard. Nobody in the UN is saying, 'Good job not weaponizing those nanomachines, Jack!' Meanwhile, I have to live the life of a human guinea pig, and everybody just takes that for granted."

"Don't act like that's so difficult for you!" Angela shouted, "I've seen you take blows that no normal human being should be able to withstand without flinching. Half the time you come back from missions with severe injuries that no man could walk upright with. You should be wheeled down to the medical station on a bed, but instead you walk in like nothing is wrong. Well, I'm here to say that whatever favors you might've done me aren't enough to repay me for having to witness your dying frame revived time and time again. Next time just do yourself the favor and save all your honor and duty for someone else."

Morrison turned to her, surprised by her outburst. Angela's face appeared bitter, but her eyes told a different story. Jack placed a hand on her arm. "Angela," he whispered.

Just then the elevator came to a stop. The steel doors opened to reveal Winston pressing his glasses onto his face. "Hello there, s…" Winston said, "Uh, um, I, uh… should I… maybe I'll just, I should go."

Jack turned to his monkey friend. "No, actually, you're just the person I wanted to see."

"Oh, really?" Winston chuckled happily, "I'm at your service, sir."

Jack smiled. "Did you bring an uninvited guest into the facility?"

"Uh…" Winston stammered, "Oh! I get it. It's a joke right? Because I couldn't bring anyone I didn't invite into the facility anyhow. Haha! Very funny, sir."

Jack shrugged. "Actually no. What I meant was, I know you brought unauthorized personnel into the lab, and I want you to cooperate with me so that I don't have to strangle the both of you myself."

Angela grabbed Morrison's shoulder. "Jack," she said, "I'm sure whatever Winston has done, he meant well by it." Winston nodded quietly "Let's not get carried away."

Jack sighed. "Alright. Where is she?"

"Uh, in the core."

"What?" Jack exclaimed, "Winston, nobody goes into the core! Not until we have the proper protection framework up and running. I swear, I'm gonna switch all your peanut butter jars with mayonnaise."

Winston gasped. "No! You wouldn't."

"I just might," Jack said with a grin, "Let's hope for your sake that she hasn't broken anything." The three of them walked down the long corridor into an overlook station. Beyond the overly complex control panels and screens and through the reinforced glass panes, one could see a giant metal sphere that looked like the final form of an octopus: that is to say there was a ludicrous amount of tubes and wires stretching from beneath and from the sides into the sphere.

Angela was overwhelmed by the spectacle of it. "Amazing. Is this what all the fuss is about?"

"That," Winston stated, "is the reactor core."

"The researchers seem to think we're closing in on stable, cold fusion," Jack added.

"You're kidding?" Angela chirped, "You're hiding away possibly the greatest scientific achievement in the history of mankind, not to mention the humanitarian value."

"Yes," Jack stated, "And if the project goes wrong it's the most powerful nuclear bomb in history. Despite the distance Overwatch HQ would be leveled."

"But that's not going to happen," Winston continued, "Not while we're here."

Jack sighed as he gazed out the window. "Well, we'll see what Lena has to say about that." Although the chamber below was relatively muted, the characteristic blue flashes of light trailed the ever-curious Lena Oxton around as she examined every bobble and wireframe in the facility. It didn't take her long to return.

Tracer zipped into the room. "Winston, this place is amaz…" She notice the perturbed Strike Commander and Dr. Ziegler standing to one side. "Uh oh," she muttered.

"Lena, this is unacceptable conduct from you. You're one of my best agents, and here you are breaking all Overwatch protocol. I'm disappointed in you; in both of you." Jack looked to Winston.

Tracer flipped her hair. "Ah, come on dad. It was just a little violation."

Winston began to chuckle, but Morrison shot him a stern look. "Tracer, that's not funny," Jack replied.

"Well," she snickered, "It kind of is." Jack glared at her disapprovingly. "Ah, rubbish, it is funny. C'mon mom, tell grumpy Jack that he doesn't understand good humor!"

Angela, who had been trying to stay out of Morrison's reprimanding conversation, turned to Tracer. "Yes, you're quite right, love. But due to your recent behavior as our daughter, I believe it's in your best interests if you move closer to home so we can keep an eye on you."

Tracer looked on in amazement. Regaining her composure, she slowly walked over to Morrison. "Yep, I…" Lena patted Jack's chest. "I think you were right," she said in the most melancholy tone, "It's not funny at all." She smiled eagerly at Jack as if nothing had happened.

"Forget it," Jack sighed, "I don't have time to deal with you jokers. Angela, what's your analysis? Do you think you can protect the agents here?"

"Well, I'll need to examine the facility further," Mercy said, "But as I said, it shouldn't be a difficult task."

"Then I'll give you the tour," Jack said. Then the pair went on to examine the facility.

After the two ranking members of Overwatch had moved onward. Winston turned to Tracer. "Phew," he sighed, "that was close."

"It wasn't so bad," Lena cried, "I had the whole situation under control."

"Right," Winston mocked, "I don't think making Commander Morrison more irritated is what I would call 'under control'."

"Oh, they're practically a couple already," Lena shrugged, "I was just givin' 'em a shove in the right direction."

"Ya know, I don't think that's any of our business," Winston said.

"Oh, you're no fun at all," Tracer lamented.

"Ahem," Winston straightened himself, "May I remind you that you are in a secret Overwatch facility you had no idea existed less than three hours ago."

Tracer pouted. "Yeah, whatever."

Just then angry shouts could be heard just outside the overlook. "Blasted mechanical servos! My grandma was slicker than you, and she had a beard!"

"Uh oh," Winston chimed, "I know that voice."

A stout Swedish man came teetering in yelling, "Winston! I don't know who gave you these darn machines, but they aren't worth half what was paid for 'em. No good industrialized tech."

"I'll look into it, sir."

Torbjörn grumbled away. "Good. Make sure to tell Morrison not to listen to those omnic merchandisers anymore."

"I'll make sure it's taken care of," Winston consoled him.

Torbjörn continued his grumbling, but then noticed Tracer sitting downcast in the corner. "Ah, what's wrong with her?"

"Nothing's wrong!" Lena moaned.

Winston looked at his saddened friend. "She's upset because Morrison isn't very happy with our breaking of protocol."

"Ah, I see," Torbjörn responded, "Well, ya know what I always say: don't…"

"Get caught with your beard in the letterbox," Winston and Tracer both replied.

"Yes, we are both very familiar with your famous advice, Torbjörn," Winston said.

"Oh, ya are?" Torb perked up, "But ya didn't follow it."

"Oh, leave me be Torby," Tracer cried.

"Ah, cheer up kiddo," Torb chuckled, "Morrison's an intimidating fellow, but deep inside I think he's got a soft spot for people like us. Especially after bringing that Dr. Ziegler on board."

"Oh, dear," Winston mumbled.

Tracer leapt up. "See!" she exclaimed, "Torby knows what's going on!"

"My, friend," Winston said to Torb, "You have no idea what you've started."

Torbjörn laughed. "Well, as long as I helped."

"C'mon Winston," Tracer urged, "You saw the way they were looking at each other. I bet they were totally about to make a bunch of little baby heroes in the elevator." She pinched her fingers together in front of her eye.

Winston burst into laughter.

Torbjörn scratched his head. "Ya know… Lena, are you feeling okay?" Tracer gave Torby an inquisitive look. "You seem a little out of whack."

"You have been rather excitable lately," Winston agreed.

"Ugh," Tracer slumped over, "It's just so boring around here. Jack doesn't want us getting into trouble with Talon, but I have nothing to do without missions."

"Sorry, I'm so boring to you," Jack said as he enter the room.

Lena sighed. "Sorry, Jack."

"Well, it seems you've wriggled your way into another assignment," Jack said, "Now that you're in on the secret, Winston and Torbjörn need some help speeding up construction here."

"Oh, yes!" she exclaimed, "Finally, an assignment! I won't let you down, sir." She gave a little salute.

"I know," Jack looked around, "I'm counting on you guys. This is Overwatch's most critical project."

"Despite the working conditions," Torbjörn said, "I think we might build something worthwhile."

Jack nodded. "The sooner we start testing the sooner we can move on to other matters."

"Oh?" Tracer cocked a smile, "It sounds like you're planning something, Jack."

"Mhmm," he confirmed, "And as soon as I know the reactor works, I'll put that plan into motion."

"Now you've got me curious," she replied.

"Luckily, you aren't telepathic," Jack retorted, "You'll just have to wait and see."

"We'll be hard at work until then," Winston said. Jack nodded, leaving them to their task.

It was a mere week before the Overwatch crew had the fusion reactor up and running despite Torbjörn's constant complaining that nothing in the "infernal place" was properly working. Initial tests indicated that power levels would exceed their estimates; indeed, the reactor could be the most important creation in human history. Supposedly, it could power the entire earth no less than three times over. These things weighed on Jack's mind as he once again sat in his office.

Overwatch was not becoming stronger. Since Talon was constantly interfering in Overwatch operations, mission success rates were at their lowest since the Omnic Crisis. Standard Overwatch operatives were dropping left and right; Meanwhile, Jack felt like the core roster had been cut in half. With Reinhardt forcibly retired and McCree gone, the list of people Jack could trust was shortening, and Reyes undermining his authority certainly wasn't helping. He felt like he had to do something, anything, to tip the odds back in Overwatch's favor. Jack called Ana into his office.

"There's no way I'm going to release the plans to anyone outside Overwatch," Jack said.

"Jack," Ana said, "You can sit there as long as you want, but we need leads on Talon, and this is how we get them."

Jack shook his head. "No. I've got a better plan. We'll stage a ceremony. Invite all the UN reps: bring the Overwatch science division. We'll tell the public it's a celebration of Overwatch's work and reveal of our greatest achievement to date."

"So you are unveiling the reactor?" Ana asked.

"No," Jack responded, "Just the concept. There won't be any technical data to speak of. But I'm betting we don't even get that far into the meeting before Talon strikes."

"Because all the Overwatch agents are there," Ana concluded.

"Because all the agents are there: all the scientists are there: all the UN reps are there, in one low security facility. But that means Talon won't be expecting a well armed Overwatch task force hiding in the woodwork." Jack got out of his chair. "This is our shot: our one opportunity to catch Talon on the front lines. If we fail, Talon will be the least of our worries."

"I'm impressed, Jack," Ana lauded, "You finally live up to your title."

"I'm glad you think so," Jack said, "because I'm giving you lead on the strike team."

"What?" Ana stammered, "You're not going to be there?"

"Oh, I'll be there," Jack said with a smile.