The Stuttgart Heist - One Year Earlier

Overwatch Headquarters, Location Undisclosed

Jackson Lawrence entered the meeting room at Overwatch Headquarters, his red hair instantly popping out in stark contrast to the vivid electron blue light that illuminated the room courtesy of the massive holopad table at the center. Jackson was a fairly recent Overwatch Agent in his early 20s, having been recruited mere three years prior, and he was one of the few Overwatch Field agents with no military background, having worked originally as a gun maker in Glasgow, Scotland. During off time he'd trained privately with a marksman in the British Army, and had developed a keen eye as a marksman himself. He'd been found by Overwatch stalwart Ana Amari when he'd stopped an armed robbery at a bank just up the street from his shop. Ana had been scouting the area and had watched Jackson, with no reason, backup or assistance given, enter the bank and take out the perpetrators with one shot for each of them, taking out each of their trigger hands and nothing else, disabling them long enough for police to arrive. She'd been impressed by his decision to act in defense of the people inside, as opposed to offensively, i.e. to kill. Thanks to his quick action, every person there had been saved. With that in mind she'd offered for him to join Overwatch despite his lack of a military background, as his skill and his regard for what he called "the little lad" was exactly what Overwatch needed. Since then he'd operated under the simple nomenclature 'Jackson', one of Overwatch's most skilled gunmen.

Now, he entered the Overwatch conference room, garbed as always in a crimson leather jacket trimmed with black that contrasted with his vivid red hair, a white shirt under it, with denim-blue form-fitting pants and black boots, his high-powered chrome-plated sidearms holstered on his thighs. In the center of the room, gathered around the holo-table, were Overwatch Strike Commander Jack Morrison, his co-commander Reinhardt, a Germanic golem and one of the first members of Overwatch, and last of all, Ana Amari, her hat removed as she surveyed the display in front of her, conversing with her fellow Overwatch founders.

"You called me in?" Jackson said aloud, his thick Scottish accent making them look up collectively.

"Jackson! Yes, thanks for coming." Ana replied with a smile.

"We have a job for you, think you might be up for it?" Morrison leaned over the table, looking Jackson in the eyes.

"What's the job?" Jackson returned Morrison's steely gaze with a wide grin. Morrison returned the grin and opened a mission file, displaying it in the air for him to see.

"There have been reports recently of a...bomb enthusiast and a heavyset cohort who have been hitting just about anything where they can gain something out of it." The strike commander elaborated. "Their last hit was on a gold conservatory somewhere in Austria. Unfortunately, since that hit they've been off radar, and our attempts to track them haven't been successful."

"Our intelligence, however, points to a large gold conservatory in Stuttgart, Germany." Ana put in. "We believe they may be headed there, though we don't know for certain as of yet." The Egyptian woman looked serious. "But it's not the gold that really concerns us."

"Fact is, these two men have been robbing, pillaging and destroying everything they've laid their sights on with no regard to who they harm in the process." Morrison said grimly. "And if we let them keep at it, there's no telling who else will get hurt."

"They are honorless and gutless." Reinhardt growled. "They must face punishment for their atrocious crimes!"

"We need you to identify them and bring them in." Ana stated. "Kill them only if absolutely necessary."

"If they're as dangerous as you say they are, I won't be no good on my own." Jackson said as he eyed the mission file laid out in front of him.

"You won't be." Ana replied with a bit of a knowing smile. "Tracer will be joining you."

"Beg pardon?" Jackson raised a quizzical eyebrow at the mention of Overwatch's notorious British hothead.

"She's been antsy to get back in the field. We felt a mission like this would do her some good." Ana elaborated, frowning slightly at Jackson's incredulous expression. "Is there a problem, Jackson?"

"..." Jackson sighed a bit and looked down at the holo-table. "Is there no one else available? At all? I know Tracer's antsy, but that's exactly what worries me."

"I'm not sure I..." Ana was cut off.

"She has no patience!" Jackson exclaimed. "Every time we go on mission together she compromises whatever strategy I form and attacks prematurely! She has no sense of timing, and feels that the sooner the job is done the better. She never thinks about consequences!" Ana and Morrison looked at one another as Jackson said all this, and they had to concede he had a point, and his concerns were valid.

"Regardless, Jackson," Ana said sternly, "we need to stop those two men however possible. And since Blackwatch is currently occupied with gathering intel on the Talon Organization, and most everyone else in Overwatch are on their own missions, Tracer is your only option. Besides." The Overwatch captain smiled knowingly once more. "She'd try to follow you regardless. She can't sit still."

"Ugh...I really have no choice in the matter, don't I..." Jackson sighed in a resigned manner. "Very well then, Captain Amari. I depart for Stuttgart in one hour." And with that, Jackson turned and left the meeting room, resigned to the worst.

"That kid's attitude's gonna get him killed one day." Morrison remarked, shaking his head at Jackson's irritation.

"Maybe. Maybe not." Ana replied. "Time will tell."

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

2 Hours Later - Approximately 30 Miles Outside Stuttgart, Germany

Jackson crouched behind a large tree, his guns at the ready and his visor lowered. He and Tracer had taken cover in the forests surrounding Stuttgart, and were currently waiting for the arrival of their quarries. Tracer, for the life of her, had no idea what made Jackson so sure that whoever these culprits were would take this particular route, or why they'd bother going through woods when the men in question liked blowing things up.

"Ugh...remind me again, luv, why exactly we're hiding in these woods for a bomber?" Tracer's voice was irritated and impatient, as always.

"Because these woods face Austria, and that's where they were last sighted, I've already gone over this." Jackson sighed in frustration. "I'm only speculating but my best guess is that they'll be coming this way to avoid any detours. I've researched their previous hits, and they're not ones to waste time getting to their next hit. That said, if Overwatch's intelligence points to Stuttgart, then it's likely for them to pass this way as it leaves no detours or distractions."

"And you've not at all thought that you maybe overthought this a bit?" Tracer sighed as she rolled his eyes. "You based this whole thing on theories that sound like you literally pulled them out your-"

"QUIET! Someone's coming..." Jackson cut Tracer off and glanced around his tree, his visor calculating and scanning the area rapidly. "3200 meters, and closing fast..." The roar of a motorcycle engine began to echo through the forest as Jackson's eyes narrowed. "Tracer, you have visual?"

"Yeah, I see them...blimey, they look horrendous..." Tracer replied, her cringe audible in her tone.

"Don't engage, repeat, don't engage." Jackson urged her as he switched cover behind another tree. "We don't know what kind of arsenal they're carrying."

"We know they're bombers, right? All we have to do is disable them before they blow things up!" Tracer protested.

"One of them is a bomber, Tracer, we don't know what the other one does! Hell, we don't even know which one the bomber is, for fuck's sa-"

"Engaging them now!" Tracer cut him off.

"DAMNIT TRACER!" Jackson growled, breaking cover and running towards the direction his visor was indicating. I knew this would happen, I knew this would happen, I knew this would happen, I knew this would fucking happen! Shots started ringing out in the forest, and Jackson could make out Tracer's excited giggle in the distance. You bloody hothead, you're going to get us ki- A distant explosion cut off his train of thought, sending a spike of fear through his heart. "Shit!"

"Bloody 'ell, fawkin' Overwatch cuntwankas!" A high pitched voice yelled as Jackson drew near, and as he entered a clearing he saw his quarries for the first time.

One of them was of a slim variety, standing six feet, five inches tall with a rail-thin build, two piercing eyes and a wide grin that, combined with his greyed, wind-swept hair, resulted in a psychotic look. His right arm and leg were both mechanical, but they were crude and hastily made, not like the cybernetically enhanced ninja Genji. His leg for example, instead of imitating a human leg, was a crudely made peg-leg. His right mechanical forearm was rusted-looking and seemed to barely function, and the man overall looked like he hadn't bathed in years. His piercing eyes were red as blood, and his high-pitched voice had a thick Australian accent.

For a long moment Jackson panicked, for the co-conspirator to the scrawny Australian seemed to be nowhere in sight, until Jackson realized the co-conspirator in question was so large that for a moment Jackson had assumed his shadow was part of those of the trees. The man in question was massive, standing a staggering seven feet, three inches tall and sporting a gut so massive he had a tattoo of a pig's head in the center of his belly, and now that Jackson saw him, he couldn't help but wonder: how in the bloody hell did he not notice him there?! His hair, like the smaller man's, was shorter and grayed, albeit much closer to white, and was tied up in a small ponytail on top of his head. His face was hidden behind a black, hog-like mask, and he sported an armored vest that barely covered anything more than his shoulders, with his forearms garbed in fingerless gauntlets. His left hand was toting what looked like a bladed hook with a chain attached to it, and he was clearly disoriented by the rapid flashes of blue and bursts of gunfire seemingly coming from all directions. Tracer was circumnavigating the two Junkers rapidly and firing at them in bursts, irritating the larger man and seeming to outright piss off the smaller man.

"'Old still, ya wanka!" The smaller junker yelled, pulling out a frag grenade launcher. Jackson, reacting quickly fired several rapid shots at the launcher, knocking it from the smaller junker's hands. The crazed explosive fanatic whirled around and growled. "Wha', anotha one?! Ay, Road'og, take care o' dat, will ya?!" The massive Junker, evidently named Roadhog, turned towards Jackson with a rumbling growl.

"Welcome to your apocalypse." Roadhog declared in a deep rumbling growl, pulling out a massive gun that looked like it'd been assembled from multiple pieces of scrap metal. Jackson ducked behind a tree as Roadhog opened fire, several pieces of bark spraying everywhere as the projectiles hit the tree hard.

"Agh!" Jackson yelled out in pain as something sharp buried itself in his right bicep, and upon inspection found a sharp piece of metal protruding from his sleeve, blood dripping down his arm. "A shrapnel gun?!" He glanced back towards Roadhog as the massive man fired four rounds before stopping to reload his gun. Jackson, gritting his teeth to fight through the pain in his arm, began returning fire around the tree, multiple shots striking Roadhog's weapon damaging it severely. The massive Junker stumbled back, growling in pain as a few shots pierced his body.

"Motherfucker..." The massive man growled, but was then distracted as his partner unleashed a high pitched cackle-like giggle.

"Looks like Bluey ova dare ain't movin' so good now!" He declared, and Jackson, distracted, glanced around for Tracer. Her chronal accelerator had shorted out and was fizzing and crackling as it recharged, forcing the young woman to take cover. The maniacal junker pulled out a concussion mine and tossed it in her direction with a wicked cackle. "Now, 'ow 'bout you taste some o' dis!" Jackson was moving towards Tracer before the maniac even had to time to reload his frag grenade gun, knowing exactly what was about to happen before it did.

"Tracer, get down!" Seconds before the Junker fired the frag grenade, Jackson tackled Tracer to the ground and shielded her as the concussion mine went off, the blast knocking them both a few feet back, both of them miraculously only sustaining bruises and a few minor cuts from it. "Agh, that hurt..." Jack grunted as he tried to pull himself up, glance over at Tracer a few feet from him. "You alright, there Len-AGH!" His query as to Tracer's condition was suddenly cut off as Roadhog's hook flew by him, grazing him on the right side and resulting in a small spray of blood. Jackson clutched his side in agony as blood poured from the wound, falling on his left shoulder on the ground as he desperately tried to put pressure on the wound.

"Jackson!" Tracer instantly sprang into action, throwing a pulse bomb towards to the two Junkers as she tried to drag Jackson to cover. Not wasting time she immediately opened her comm channel to Overwatch HQ. "This is Tracer in Germany! Jackson is hurt bad, we need medevac immediately, repeat! Jackson is down, immediate medevac is needed!"

"Tracer, this is Morrison, what's his condition, over!" The Strike Commander's voice answered.

"Uhh..." she quickly looked Jackson over. "Foreign shrapnel bodies in the right arm, possible laceration in the right side above the hip, various cuts and bruises from a concussion mine...sir, he's hurt badly and I can't get him out of here alone, we need medevac immediately!"

"We're on our way, Tracer, sit tight!" Morrison cut the transmission as Tracer tried to drag Jackson behind cover.

"We don't take cover, you won't have to worry much longer..." Tracer heaved Jackson behind particularly large tree as her pulse bomb suddenly emitted a loud beeping noise.

"HOLY SHIT, THAT LITTLE THINGS A BO-" Boom! The pulse bomb went off, knocking the smaller Junker back hard and into his hulking companion, who merely looked down at his smoldering companion.

"Pulse bomb, huh...you've had far worse that, Junkrat." Roadhog calmly said as he hauled his cohort to his feet.

"Holy fawkin' cock in anotha man's arse!" Junkrat swore as he brushed himself off. "Dose Overwatch wankas put up a fight, ay?!" He cackled maniacally as he glanced over to where the concussion mine exploded, seeing no trace of Jackson or Tracer. "Won't be seein' dem again, ay!" Without further ado he hopped back into the sidecar on Roadhog's motorcycle, which through all that had only procured a few fresh dents and scorch marks. Roadhog rolled his eyes behind his mask and mounted the bike, muttering something about Junkrat likely killing himself as he drove off, leaving Tracer and Jackson alone in the smoldering woods.

"Blast it, they're getting away!" Tracer stood up, her first impulse being to follow the two Junkers, but one look at Jackson, arm and side bleeding all over the ground as he tried desperately to cover the wounds, stopped her. If she left him now, he'd likely die, and she'd already compromised their ambush and mission. She wasn't about to leave Jackson to die as well. Trying to ease the pain a bit, Tracer propped Jackson up in a seated position, his grunts of pain almost rasping a little as he winced.

"The captain's not gonna be too happy about this..." Jackson managed out, groaning as his side spiked in pain. Tracer winced as she had a look at the shrapnel buried in his arm.

"I think you should get that removed, Jackson, it's not doing you any favors..." Tracer reached for it, but hesitated when Jackson cut her off.

"Not yet...if you take it out now, with nothing to patch it, I'll bleed even worse..." He groaned again as the pain intensified, numbing every nerve in his body.

"Hang in there, Jackson, help's on the way." Tracer removed her goggles for a moment and sighed, keeping an eye out for their airlift.

"Yeah...here's to hopin' I don't bleed out before they get here." Jackson remarked as he glared at Tracer sullenly. She had no response; there wasn't much she could say, really, after everything that went down. All she could do now was wait with him until their evac arrived. They didn't have to wait long, as less than an hour later, a royal blue jet appeared overhead, lowering towards the forest as the passenger bay opened up, with Reinhardt, now in full body armor, and Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Overwatch's Swiss medical officer, dropped down towards the pair.

"Lena!" Mercy called down as she landed close by. "How is he?"

"He's still conscious, but barely..." Tracer replied as she helped Mercy get Jackson to his feet. "He's lost a good amount of blood..."

"I've 'ad worse..." Jackson mumbled as Mercy helped him, the swiss doctor chuckling a bit.

"Liar, you can barely stand." She remarked as ropes dropped from the hovering ship along with a stretcher. Mercy and Tracer quickly but carefully laid Jackson down on the stretcher, securing him to it as Mercy quickly patched up Jackson's wound in his side. "I'll have to give you a proper examination at headquarters."

"Lookin'...forward to it..." Jackson managed out, looking at Mercy with a small grin. She shook her head a sigh and a smile, floating alongside the stretcher as it was hoisted into the air towards the airship above them. As soon as they were inside, the massive vessel turned and took off towards Overwatch HQ, flying fast as speed was of the essence. Jackson groaned a bit as he laid there on the stretcher, and Mercy kneeled next to him, producing a pair of medical pliers.

"I'm sorry, Jackson, this is going to hurt..." Mercy narrowed her eyes in concentration as she gripped the shrapnel fragment that was lodged in his arm, slowly moving it back and forth to get it loose as Jackson groaned in pain. Mercy felt a slight twinge of regret for Jackson's pain as she slowly but surely worked the fragment loose, and after 10 agonizing minutes, it finally came out.

"Agh...fuck, that hurt..." Jackson groaned, Mercy giving him a disapproving look.

"Language, Jackson please." She wrapped a bandage around his arm's wound, Tracer watching with a raised eyebrow.

"Can't you just use your Caduceus Staff and heal him up in less than a minute?" Tracer inquired, looking at Mercy incredulously.

"I could, yes. But that shrapnel fragment looks as though it has goodness knows what kind of lethal bacteria all over it. Not to mention that laceration in his side might have been infected as well." Mercy pointed out. "I need to make sure his wounds are sterile first before I heal them up properly."

"Please...you just can't wait to see me with my clothes off-OW!" Jackson's quip was cut off as Mercy pressed his arm a bit hard, eliciting a groan of pain from the Scot.

"Keep dreaming, Jackson." Mercy gave him a coy smile as she cut off his flirtatious quip. "You never miss an opportunity to flirt even when you're laying on a stretcher and bleeding from two wounds."

"Not like...anyone can blame...me..." Jackson groaned out as Mercy rolled her eyes. Typical Jackson Lawrence, even when laid out and bleeding out, he liked to flirt with Overwatch's blonde, Swiss doctor.

"You have issues, Jack, seriously." Tracer remarked as she shook her head, giggling a bit at his antics.

"Says the girl...with an unlicensed particle stability...accelerator strapped to her bust..." Jackson groaned back, and Tracer laughed aloud at this.

"Got me there!"

"...who compromised the entire mission when she decided not to listen." He finished, managing to push himself up into a seated position as he glared angrily at Tracer. "I told you not to engage them, Tracer."

"Wha-are we really doing this now?!" Tracer glared back at him incredulously, unable to believe that Jackson was still giving her an ear-full even after everything else.

"Jackson, you shouldn't strain yourself." Mercy insisted, but he ignored her.

"You cost us a successful ambush, you cost us the mission, and now I'm laid up with two bloody open wounds!" Jackson growled. "I told you, we did not know which of them was the bomber, and we certainly didn't know one of them would be 7 feet tall with a shrapnel gun and a bloody chain hook!" He groaned as his pain spiked noticeably, but he tried to ignore it. "Thanks to you, both of us were very nearly killed!"

"I'm sorry, alright?!" Tracer shot back at him. "I know it was stupid, and I feel bad enough already that you're in this condition, can't you just lay off for two seconds?!"

"You're sorry?" Jackson glared at her as he leaned against the inner hull of the ship. "That's nice and all, but 'sorry' don't change what happened."

"Jackson, calm down." Mercy insisted, placing a hand on his chest and laying him back down. "You've strained yourself enough, you need to rest now."

"Ugh..." Jackson didn't resist as Mercy laid him back down. He didn't say anything more, but his anger and resentment towards Tracer was palpable, and Mercy knew he wasn't going to forget it anytime soon.

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

Overwatch Headquarters - Medical Bay, 1 Hour Later

"And...there we are. Good as new." Mercy declared, smiling widely as Jackson sat up, examining his arm and his side. He was now on a medical bed, having been given a thorough examination from Mercy to make sure his wounds hadn't been infected. "You should be good for field work again in a few days."

"Heh, thanks, Doc." Jackson grinned at the Swiss woman with a sly wink. "You certainly made my day, like you always do." Mercy chuckled and just shook her head.

"'Tis my job, Jackson, nothing more." She rolled her eyes a bit and floated over to where his clothes were, tossing them at him. "Now get dressed, before you catch a cold in here."

"Awww, I thought you liked seein' me shirtless!" Jackson grinned and winked as he flexed a little, and Mercy facepalmed as she tried to repress her laughter.

"You're hopeless, Jackson." She floated back over to the Scot and just stood with her hands on her hips in a sarcastically sassy manner. "What am I going to do with you..."

"Hopefully something with a happy ending, I'm sure." Jackson quipped with a wink, and at this comment Mercy turned vividly red as she caught his meaning. A moment later, the bottom end of her Caduceus Staff connected with the back of his head. "Ow!"

"That was not appropriate, Jackson Lawrence." Mercy said sternly.

"What, and everything else I said is? OW!" Jackson yelped again as Mercy once more clubbed him with her Caduceus Staff. Mercy sighed, taking a moment to compose herself before setting the staff aside and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"I know you mean no harm, Jackson, but I'm a medical officer. Everything I do here is purely professional." Jackson sighed a bit and looked down.

"Yeah, I know..." He sighed for a moment and put his shirt back on, standing up and grabbing his still torn up jacket. "Can't blame a man for at least tryin'." He turned and started walking out of the medical bay. "Thanks for fixin' me up. I'll see you later...maybe."

"Knowing you? Not even maybe." Mercy retorted, and Jackson smiled a bit before walking out of the medical and almost right into Ana, who stood outside the door with a knowing smile.

"...Captain." Jackson stated, blushing only a little as he realized she may have heard the entire exchange.

"Heh, you never fail to flirt with her, Jackson." She smiled knowingly. "When are you just going to ask her out, already?"

"Maybe when my attempts to aren't met with the bottom end of her Caduceus Staff." Jackson remarked as he continued walking, Ana walking next to him and laughing a little.

"What attempts? All I could see you doing in there is trying to get laid." She said it so bluntly and without missing a beat that Jackson turned vividly red as he realized what she said.

"I...I mean...you...uh, I don't..." He stuttered as Ana laughing merrily at his expense.

"Oh, you. I haven't seen someone blush that hard since Gérard proposed to that ballerina, what's her name, Amélie?" Ana smiled a bit as Jackson smiled a little sheepishly.

"Aye...how are those two doing, by the way?" Jackson smiled. He'd always been fond of Overwatch's French Agent Gérard Lacroix, and he'd been among the many guests at his wedding to a successful ballerina, Amélie. "Still going strong?" Ana laughed and flashed Jackson a wink.

"Last I spoke to him, he said she threw his knife into the wall and practically ordered him to...hehe, relieve her frustration." Jackson blushed and chuckled a bit nervously.

"Assertive type, is she?"

"More like a frustrated wife waiting at home for weeks at a time." Ana grinned knowingly. "Leave a woman waiting that long, and of course she'll pin you down."

"R-right..." Jackson was embarrassed to high heaven to be talking about marital sex with his commanding officer, a woman at that, who seemed to take great amusement in his embarrassment. For a moment the two of them walked in silence, simply enjoying each other's company before Jackson broke the silence by changing the subject. "So...how's Fareeha?"

"Oh, she's chipper as ever." Ana giggled a little. "Last week, she and Agent McCree put chili powder in Morrison's coffee when he wasn't looking."

Jackson laughed aloud at this. "I was wondering where that new rasp of his came from!" The two of them laughed together, Ana smiling widely at Jackson before patting his shoulder.

"I'm sure she'd be happy to see you again, it's been some time!" Jackson smiled at the captain warmly in response.

"I'll be sure to make some time for it, then." Ana smiled at this and gently patted his shoulder once again.

"Take some time to rest, Agent Lawrence. You've had a rough day, you deserve it."

"Thank you, Captain Amari." Jackson smiled and nodded respectfully.

"Please, Jackson, just call me Ana." She smiled charmingly. "No need to be so formal with me, it makes me feel old!" Jackson chuckled a bit.

"Right. I suppose I'll see you around then." Jackson returned her smile and proceeded to walk towards his resting quarters, stopping when Ana spoke to his back.

"You know, considering how many times you've gotten hurt on your jobs, I've thought about a possible codename for you, since you've deemed not to have one."

"Oh?" Jackson turned back towards Ana, thinking this was more than a bit of an odd reason to make a codename. "What did you have in mind?"

"I was thinking something along the lines of..." Ana stood and thought for a moment before smiling and pointing at his jacket.

"Crimson."