I chuckled slightly as I looked back at the time I first joined Overwatch, looking at the medallion I had hanging up over my desk. It was strange, having an actual room to myself, but it was more than welcome. I slid my chair away from my desk to grab another piece of paper. Due to Jamison's skills with building weapons, as well as mine, we were not only mercenaries but also two of the weapon designers, alongside Winston and Torbjorn. I slammed the paper onto my desk, grabbed one of the numerous pencils scattered across the wooden surface and started sketching blueprints for a new flamethrower concept. The only other person with a weapon at least somewhat similar was Mei. Along with Tracer, her real name is Lena, she was one of the first of the team to warm up to me.
"Alright," I mumbled to myself as I reached to take my hair tie out. I didn't have any training plans. It was supposed to be a day for me to relax. I cracked my knuckles and leaned over my desk, making sure to get the finer details of the new prototype flamethrower down.
Bang.
I jumped as I heard my door slam against the wall. "Jamison!" I yelled, turning to face the ash covered man standing in my doorway.
"G'day! I was wondering if you wanted to train with me!" Jamison laughed, walking up to me. "Ooh, what you planning to make!" He was practically resting his head on my shoulder as he looked at the papers on my desk. He reeked of burning hair, sulfur and sweat, and I quickly elbowed him in the chest.
"Back off, Jamison. I swear to god," I muttered.
"But I just wanted to know if you wanted to train with me, sheila!" He laughed, backing off.
"Do not call me 'sheila', Jamison Fawkes," I hissed, turning to face him. "I will train with you, yes. But you almost caused me to ruin a perfectly good blueprint! I swear to god, I do not want to have to restart! Although at least you didn't blow my door into smithereens unlike when we were in Australia, I'll give you credit for that."
"Oi, is that some genuine praise from you? Didn't expect that!"
"Don't count on any more praise. You are a langer and I feel like praise is wasted on you," I said, standing up from my chair and stretching.
"I have no idea what you mean by that, but I'll take it! C'mon, let's go to the training area!" He flashed his usual crooked smile and I rolled my eyes. I grabbed my flamethrower and followed him.
We walked into the training area and I sighed, tying my hair back up. "So, what are you even planning to do?"
"I just wanted to train! Why are ya thinking I am super suspicious or something? ... Don't answer that," Jamison laughed.
"Let's just practice, alright?"
"Hey, how many of those damn RIP-Tires do you have? Where do you keep getting them?" I yelled, jumping out of the way of yet another one of Jamison's ultimates. He just shrugged and laughed in response.
"I make them!" He said with a smile.
"Yeah, no shit," I muttered, adjusting my gloves. "Well, I'm going to go use my ultimate on one of the training bots. Don't want to burn you. It would end badly for both of us, Jamison." I walked over to an area with plenty of training bots and made sure that my gloves were hooked up to my weapon properly. "Let the fires grow!" I yelled, my gloves releasing twin bursts of flames as I chuckled. The training bots in front of me were surrounded by the flames, and as they slowly stopped coming from my gloves, I saw they were covered in soot and smoke stains. I heard Jamison laugh as he walked up to me.
"Damn, you're really good! I'd hate to be on the opposing end of that fire," He said as he put an arm around me, the metal of his prosthetic surprisingly cold compared to the rest of his body.
"Don't touch me," I mumbled. I pushed his arm off my shoulder.
"Oooh, even your personality is fiery! I like it," Jamison laughed and winked. I turned and aimed my flamethrower at him. I wasn't going to actually use it on him, but I was hoping he would think otherwise.
"Watch it, dumpster rodent," I said, a faint smile appearing on my face. "I'd hate to have to burn you. At least, more than how you burn yourself." He backed up a bit, still laughing that crazed laugh. Despite my annoyance, I laughed a bit. He was funny, even if he was an idiot.
"Hey, I see that smile!" Jamison said, poking one of my cheeks with a soot-covered finger. "Why are you so serious all the time, anyway?"
"I'm serious because you apparently can't be," I said with a laugh, pushing his hand away. "I mean, you're like a five-year-old with a gun. No, worse than that." He pouted slightly at my teasing and we started walking away. "I just can't believe I wound up being friends with you, you stupid chancer."
I looked around the hallway as we walked. It was one of the first things I noticed about the Overwatch bases: they are huge. It was nothing like Junkertown or Australia in general. Not even like where I grew up in Ireland. I sighed and rounded the corner to where the rest of the members of Overwatch usually gather, Jamison still following me like a lost puppy. I heard heavy metal footsteps approaching. It was Orisa, a robot built by a young girl in Numbani from old OR15 parts. I smiled up at her, and her camera shutter like eyes shifted to form a happy expression in return. I pulled up a chair and sat down.
"Oh, hello Keira. It is strange to see you here. Normally at this time, you are in your room. And hello to you, too, Jamison," Orisa said to us, "I hope you aren't still upset about my joke."
Earlier, Orisa had approached us and said something about searching a criminal database. Of course, Jamison and I bolted as soon as we heard that. Orisa just meant it as a prank, but our reaction surprised her. I didn't have any hard feelings, she was built to be a genuinely nice protector robot. Jamison, on the other hand, saw her as just another annoying Omnic.
"Bots," he muttered under his breath, "Dime a dozen."
Orisa laughed softly, having heard his complaints about her several times. "How was your training?" She continued, sitting down near me.
"Eh, the usual stuff. Practicing my ultimate," I said before looking over at Jamison. He seemed annoyed. I invited him to sit down with us, "Come on, Jamison. You aren't mad at Orisa being my friend, are you?" I laughed.
"It's an Omnic. I thought Overwatch was fighting them!" Jamison huffed, his amber eyes glaring in Orisa's direction. Orisa shuffled awkwardly. I stood up and sighed.
"Sorry, Orisa, he's just annoyed. I'll join you in a bit, I am just going to talk to him."
I walked away, grabbing Jamison by the arm and pulling him with me. "Jamison, what the fuck is wrong? You were fine one minute and grumpy the next. Did you sleep at all last night?" I asked, bringing up his habit of forgetting to sleep. "You can't be doing that. It's dangerous. As part of Overwatch, we need to be ready to fight at any moment!"
He nodded slightly. "Gotcha, shelia," He said with a smirk, "You know how I get around Omnics, though."
"What did I tell you about the 'shelia' thing?" I said, crossing my arms. "Now, go get some sleep, I don't want to sound like a mom friend, but you need it."
He rolled his eyes and walked to his room, "Fine! Maybe in a bit we can look at each other's weapon designs?"
I nodded slightly. "Deal. Just get some fucking sleep."
