Old Habits Die Hard

by Mrepic3000

Soldier 76 has returned to a newly arisen Overwatch; for better or for worse, he has yet to know. Already it becomes interesting when the team discovers an odd being in his first mission. With his views of the world and himself in an all-time low, can this individual help him see the light at the end of the tunnel once again?

1. Chapter 1

Old Habits Die Hard | 1

An Overwatch fanfic

By Yuan Kuizon

When an unwanted soldier sets his views of the world in stone, an outside being just might be the solution to erasing his pessimism.

ooOoo

Author's Note:

Hello. While this is the first fanfic I've published online, this isn't the first one I've written. So thus I safely declare that I have some experience in the writing department; do what you want with this information.

Let me stop disturbing you, now. Please proceed to the story.

ooOoo

Jack Morrison laid a finger on his earpiece. "Alpha, this is Soldier 76."

"This is Winston from Alpha," the gorilla, who was back at HQ, replied. "Got any visual on Tracer?"

From within the alleyway, Jack looked up to the expanse between the roof of each building he was in-between. A second later, a blue tracer zipped from one roof to the other.

"Tracer is safe," Jack replied. "She's still sweeping up the roofs."

"Affirmative, Soldier," came the response from Winston. "By the way, is this an okay strategy? I was wondering if-"

"You're the leader of this team," Jack cut in sharply. "You should make sure you know what you're doing."

Silence came from the other end of the line. Jack pressed against the building wall, keeping still as he waited for an answer.

"... Proceed with caution, 76," Winston said. Jack noticed a part of his voice was subdued. "You're nearing the target."

"Affirmative." With a tap of a finger, the comm was off. Crouching to the ground, Jack was off, sprinting to the next space between buildings- all the while getting closer to the objective.

As he ran, Jack felt a wave of nostalgia hit him. He remembered the days when he, Jack Morrison, was the commander of Overwatch. The days when the group under his leadership was revered as the savior of humans and omnics.

Too bad that went to shit when they thought we weren't needed anymore, Jack thought morosely.

They were wrong, of course. But the dividing opinions within the members of Overwatch made if difficult to envision what the group's next step would be. Then Reyes, his second-in-command, had to be a bastard and started a full-blown rebellion within the base.

Then came the explosion, and the world thinks I'm dead. Jack felt a touch of amusement at that. Honestly, I prefer them keeping that line of thought.

"You getting that feeling, love?"

Battle-hardened reflexes snapped at him to subdue the unseen owner of that voice, but his recognition of it stopped him from doing so. Relaxing his stance, Jack turned around to see Lena Oxton, a.k.a Tracer. The young Brit was standing innocently whilst giving him a cheeky grin.

"What do you mean?" Jack asked, making sure to block out any curiosity in his tone. She shouldn't be here.

Lena's expression faltered for just a second, and her trademark happy-go-lucky expression bounced back. "You know- Deja vu? Running around and saving the world, just like the old times."

Jack resisted the urge to step back when Lena leaned forward, her smile widening. "That's what you're feeling, right Sir?" she said.

Jack continued to stare at her, but Lena never wilted at his visor-covered gaze. He then turned around and opted to look stoically at the warehouse's front door, which he was actually surprised to find out he already arrived at. "... You're supposed to be on top, sweeping the area for Talon look-outs."

He heard Lena scoff. "I'm already done with that, Sir. You know how quick I can be. There were ten of them, all forming a circle around the warehouse on separate buildings. Couldn't take them out with gunshots, 'cause that would make a lot of noise. So I blinked behind each and every one of 'em, and knocked them in the noggin with my pistols!"

Now she took deep breath, as if taking a whiff at something intoxicatingly sweet. "I got really excited, y'know. Reminded me of the old days, where we would all be kicking ass in our own special way, but working as one. Don't you feel the same way, Sir?"

Jack thought he could've burned a hole through the door by now, what with how much he was leveling his gaze at it. Some part of him really wanted to try thinking back fondly, but it was always suppressed by the memory of how everything ended afterwards.

"... Go back to your duty, Tracer," Jack replied. "I'm sure there's a few you missed, hiding in the shadows. Talon shouldn't be underestimated."

"Jeez, Sir. I handled everything up there, I'm 100% sure!" Lena said exasperatedly. "I wasn't exactly slacking off before the Recall. Have a little more faith in your soldiers, Command-"

Jack whirled around, releasing a snarl that was rose up the moment she uttered that word. "DON'T CALL ME THAT," he growled.

Lena flinched violently, raising her arms as if to shield herself. She cracked an eye open, watching him nervously. "S-sir?..."

Jack released ragged breaths as he tried to square his shoulders comfortably. After a while, he sighed and bent his neck to one side, letting out a crack. He turned to the door once again, trying to erase the image of a frightened Tracer in his mind. She shouldn't be here.

"Go back to your previous vantage point," he said, not letting any emotion seep into his voice. "When I give the signal, you'll break into one of the higher level windows at the warehouse's sides. You'll receive my signal through the comm."

There was silence for a few seconds. Then Lena's voice came behind him; "Yes, Sir..."

Jack made to walk to the door when Lena added, "And for what it's worth... I'm glad you're back with us, Sir."

He could almost imagine Lena directing a sad smile his way, before turning around and blinking to the top of a building, rushing off underneath the moonlit sky.

To be continued...

ooOoo

Author's Note:

"What happens to Soldier 76 if I throw in a war-torn veteran of my own creation to disturb his usual day?"

This is the question I wanted answered and thus, used as a foundation to write this fanfic.

Due to the possibly infinite excitement factor of the world of Overwatch and its diverse range of citizens (the heroes, if you didn't know), it was hard for me to get bored with writing this fanfic. And so I have actually finished the entire thing, and I plan to release the chapters in separate groups at different times, to attract as many readers as possible.

Dick move? Probably, but a man's gotta do what's got to be done to gather an audience. The next three chapters will be uploaded tomorrow, and the last ones the day after that. I might put the epilogue a few hours later from the last chapters, though.

So, the possibly eventual reviews and criticisms. Does me already having the fic done mean that receiving those two are worth absolutely nothing? Hell no. Any criticisms you have can help me improve my writing skill and thus become a better writer. It'll also encourage me to write more, probably.

So, on to the reviews and criticisms. Go all out. Say everything that needs to be said; the good, the bad, the ugly, and just about everything you spot that tickled you in a good or bad way. HOWEVER, I know the difference between a valid review and a flame. So if you think that I'll even consider listening to a flurry of pointless insults, think again.

If you want to continue reading more of my story, I appreciate you. If you get discouraged to read it along the way, tell me about it and explain why you are. If you feel good about how my capitalization, grammar, and punctuation are better than 70% of the Overwatch fanfics in this website, please tell and explain why you are.

See you next time. MrEpic3000 out.