A loud yawn reverberated throughout the confines of their room. Much to the discomfort of its residents the accommodations only consisted of a square, metal table, surrounded by four gray chairs. On the ceiling hung a set of fluorescent lights, which bounced off the white walls, making the room seem brighter than it should.
The bald hero blinked several times in annoyance. Why didn't that bird woman inform them how long their trip would be? If she did then he would have brought a manga, or at least a magazine to keep him busy. That could have compensated for the fact that the seats were rock hard, and for the entire trip he couldn't sleep because at it felt as though someone repeatedly jabbed at his back with a long metal pole. Part of him almost wanted to file a complaint for terrible flight service, but he decided against it. For now, at least.
"Are you well, master?" asked Genos from across the table. The cyborg, for his part, exercised his patience somewhat more diligently, but his concern for his master did not waver.
Saitama blinked several times, failing to process the question for the first few seconds. "Fine… Back just hurts. Need sleep too." he muttered.
"Indeed. I noticed on the airship you constantly shifted around in your seat in an attempt to find a comfortable position. This would prove difficult, as the posture encouraged by that kind of seating is deficient to your health. Sitting in that position for long periods of time include symptoms such as back pain, numbness, migraines of varying severities, as well as-"
"Alright…! Alright. I get it, I get it. No need to turn it into another lecture." A deep sigh escaped Saitama. Even if he didn't want to endure his student's ramblings at the moment, he certainly made a good point. Whoever designed the plane obviously must have been extremely short; the back support reached far too low for Saitama's liking. The constant groans from the other end of the vehicle suggested he wasn't the only one suffering from the seating.
Times like those really made him wish he had Genos' augmentations, which rendered practically all of the basic human needs. He learned on a bus ride some time ago that his visors doubled as a sort of browser, which could search the internet whenever he felt like it. If he had a week Saitama couldn't list all the ways he would use something like that. Maybe it was his lack of sleep that made him hallucinate, but during the flight he could've sworn he heard the faint sounds of 'Mob Choir 99' coming from Genos' general direction.
Right now, though, he just wanted to take a good, long, nap. On a comfortable surface, preferably. Maybe he could get a futon if he asked. Or something to eat. He didn't realize it until now, but he was actually kind of hungry.
As he pondered this, Genos fixated on the entrance to their temporary residence. His orange glare intimidated the steel door, but it focused more on the small window conjoined beside it. Not much could be seen, besides the gray hallway and the stretching rows of lights. But from Genos' scans, the walls and the floors incorporated an unusually high quantity of metal, not just any kind of metal but a reinforced alloy capable of withstanding extreme pressures, stacked in multiple layers. Leading an attack on a structure like this would not only be foolhardy but downright suicidal.
To the cyborg, it only warranted further caution.
"...Tell me master. Are you it was wise, agreeing to come here? I am aware of our current predicament, but we still know little of Overwatch, including its operatives."
"Well, Fir-Fer… that bird lady seemed nice enough. Even if the flight service was terrible." He grumbled the last few words. "And they seem to know more than we do. I'm just hoping they can figure out what's going on."
"True, they could be helpful. Perhaps they know more about the Mirror Wraiths."
"Mirror Wraiths?"
"The alien monsters you defeated in City Y. The ones that look like Emmy Awards."
"Oh, right. Those guys." Strange. They looked more like Oscars to him.
"Well, their defeat seems to be linked to our arrival here. The Monster Wiki did say something about them having dimensional powers, so I thought maybe that had something to do with it."
"Did you find anything else?"
"I tried accessing the wiki page during the flight, but for some reason I couldn't. In fact, there appears to be no mention of monsters on the internet." explained Genos. He found it concerning that such a vital database could be missing. "I contacted the Hero Association but that was futile as well."
"Weird. Is the router broken again?"
"I don't think so. Kid Emperor installed a new one just last week. Either way we can't contact the Association, and I can't get in touch with any of the other heroes as well. I suppose consulting these people is the best option we have." Genos admitted. Though in truth, if this organization wanted to try anything, then they probably would have been smarter about it. But even then, Genos knew the strength of his master. Any trouble that came their way, he would definitely handle it. As long as it didn't involve damage fees or market sales.
"Well, hopefully we don't have to wait here for much longer. I could probably use some food right now." Saitama rested his head on the table. He didn't like taking naps sitting up, but with how tired he was he couldn't care less at the moment. It would have been peace and tranquility until they could figure something out.
Would have.
A buzzing noise rang somewhat loudly, thanks to the pouring silence in the room. It almost didn't register in the hero's head, but something landed on his forehead and sat there. Groggy, sullen eyes lifted open. They looked up to find a small insect perched on his temple.
In a blur of motion, a red streak split the air, his palm striking his forehead at ludicrous speeds. Genos stared blankly as steam guzzled off of the red glove, no doubt from the sheer velocity his palm traveled. After a few seconds, the fly hovered out harmlessly from the space between his forehead and his palm, the loud buzzing promptly resuming.
The fly then landed on the center of the table. His head still rested on the table, Saitama lazily yet meticulously swung his palm where the fly stood. An echoing clap thundered from his hand, shattering the sound barrier multiple times, with shards of metal scattering everywhere as the table split in half almost instantly.
Unfortunately, Saitama failed to realize the consequences of his action. With the table he leaned on now shattered, his body abruptly swung towards the floor, his shocked face slamming against the cold metal floor in a heap of metal splinters and dust. As he lay on the ground, an oblivious fly continued to buzz beside his head.
"...Master? Are you alright?" Genos must have phrased that poorly, because all of a sudden a plethora of red and yellow afterimages swarmed the room, with clapping noises rapidly thundering throughout the air.
Genos' briefly pondered interfering, but it was probably better to let his master deal with his foe. He opened the internet browser installed on his visors, not at all bothered by the constant shockwaves that whisked past his body.
In the midst of the battle, the sounds of thrash metal remained unheard by all but Genos.
"This is Christina Collins, coming to you live from Vulpex Studios with a special report. Just yesterday at approximately noon, an Omnic Titan emerged off the coast of Caligo City. It wasn't long before it began rampaging across the city, forcing the local militia to order a citywide evacuation. Soon after military forces from nearby regions deployed en masse in an effort to repel the attack. But despite their best efforts, they were soon overwhelmed by the massive machine. By the time they called in Overwatch, most of the city was already in ruin. However, the arrival of the resurrected heroes was soon followed by a most unexpected turn of events."
The screen then switched to a camera feed. The recording focused on the Omnic Titan as it rampaged across the city, decimating buildings and entire roadways, the explosions causing fires to spread erratically.
Then in the span of an instant, the Omnic Titan exploded, a brilliant flash temporarily rendering the screen white. A brief shockwave caused the camera to shake uncontrollably for a few seconds before stabilizing.
Two severed legs standing upright were all that remained of the behemoth.
"According to our sources, Overwatch sent in Torbjorn to deal with the Omnic threat, destroying the machine from the inside. While casualty and injury rates remain unknown, reconstruction of the city is already underway, thanks to the efforts of Torbjorn and the rest of Overwatch. Much of the city is already expressing their gratitude."
Various images of public crowds holding up various signs of approval appeared on screen. Many wore t-shirts with Overwatch logos; others took it a step further by cosplaying as their favorite heroes, with various Tracer and lookalikes showing up more often. Some of the crowds bunched together around the severed legs, where various thank you messages had been sprayed onto the metallic limbs.
"We'll keep you updated on the status of Caligo City, so remember to stay tuned in for the latest reports. On a completely irrelevant topic, purple llamas are now-"
The monitor turned off before she could continue. The city certainly knew how to express its gratitude. A shame it was misplaced. The Omnic Titan may have been destroyed, but now a more pressing concern took precedence.
"Well, that's the official report." In front of the blank monitor sat a rather hefty gorilla donned in a set of high tech armor. To anyone else, he would have been an intimidating sight if he wasn't shifting around on the small swivel chair constantly. Clearly whoever designed the thing clearly did not have gorillas in mind.
"That was rather speculative." observed Pharah. "She was pretty vague on a lot of details. It makes me wonder what kind of 'sources' they used."
Jack turned to her. "What were they supposed to say? That a bald cosplayer and his robot compatriot were the ones we should be thanking?" Pharah had to concede to that point.
"Enough you two." Winston turned around in his swivel chair, almost falling off when it tilted from his sheer weight. "While the situation at hand is certainly unprecedented, you can't deny that the boost in public approval has been extremely beneficial to our cause. With this much support, we are now one step closer to reassembling Overwatch."
"Yeah. Tirion and Eitrigg made contact not too long ago. Said they were interested in joining up again, after yesterday's occurrences." said Jack as he arched his back several times.
"Indeed, they- are you two alright?" He adjusted his glasses, not that he needed them to understand that his colleagues were in pain. Especially when they were constantly arching backwards. With a mind as brilliant as his, it didn't take him long to reach a conclusion. "Did you use Torbjorn's hover plane again?"
"What do you think?" Pharah snapped. "Do you know how painful it is sitting on a chair designed for people his height!?"
Winston didn't respond, electing to remain silent instead. He specifically told the dwarf to fix all of the chairs on his hover plane just yesterday after it had been reinstated. There had been an incident where an entire squadron got hospitalized due to injuries in the spinal cord. Immediately after they quarantined it with miles of yellow tape and rows of warning signs. Not one of their finest moments.
Being stuck for hours in that torture device caused shivers to travel down Winston's spine. Perhaps it came time to abandon quarantine protocols and turn towards some more drastic measures. Preferably in the form of some petrol cans and a lighter.
"...Anyways, where was I? Oh yes. We'll have Tirion rendezvous at one of our other locations for now. As of the moment we still have two 'guests' we need dealing with. What were their names again?"
"Genos and Saitama. The former has some fire-based weaponry built into him. As he demonstrated before, it is capable of smoldering entire blocks. The other one, well… "
"He's something else entirely." Jack added. "I first assumed someone screwed with my visor, but everyone else seemed just as confused as me."
"So it's true, then? He really did destroy the Titan?" Winston asked. Pharah and Jack simultaneously nodded, albeit rather slowly. Though seeing was believing, they still struggled to convince themselves they hadn't been tossed into the insanity of some obscure manga, as tempting as it was.
Winston, deep in thought, began to hum subconsciously. Hana had been the first one to jump on the receiver and begin rambling about the whole spectacle. Winston, who busied himself with paperwork at the time, immediately came to the conclusion that the science division invented a new form of weed behind his back. Thankfully, his older, more mature colleagues dissuaded that theory, leaving behind the matter of the bald incarnation of collateral damage.
Even now he struggled to understand these two characters. He knew no one capable of designing the cataclysmic weaponry described in the robot's arsenal. The only device capable of matching that level of power was the Doomfist, but even that was a rare technological achievement beyond their standards.
The other individual, on the other hand, truly was an anomaly. At least the android had some kind of logic behind his destructive potential, but a bald man, supposedly cosplaying for a living, leaping several miles with a single bound? That alone defied all science, let alone the destruction of a mountain-sized weapon designed to level cities, by his hand alone. But the footage couldn't lie, and two of his colleagues confirmed it for themselves.
Winston meshed his hands and his feet together. He could worry about physics later. "I'm… still very unclear on a few things. A lot of things, actually. Though to be fair I doubt anyone could have foreseen this incident. So first, let's review what we know."
"Concerning our current situation, there's little we know about our guests. Right now they're currently the most unstable elements." Jack explained. "We also know little to nothing about them, besides their tremendous power. And the longer they stay in this building, the more of a threat they become to everyone in it, and possibly everyone in its vicinity as well. Something's going to go down pretty soon if we don't come up with something"
"I thought that was the whole reason why they were brought here. Was I mistaken?"
"That was never deliberated. Pharah here-" Jack jabbed a thumb at her. "...acted on her own accord."
"I was just doing what I thought was best." Pharah countered. "I saw them walking towards Shawaruma Cafe, so I took the chance while I could."
"You were supposed to help maintain security while they set up reconstruction efforts. Especially with omnic-human tensions rising of late. The attack has caused the omnic population to be viewed in a more negative light, and with local enforcement in turmoil there's bound to be an increase in criminal activity. I had to pull some strings because of you; I'm not that fond of the law myself in case you haven't forgotten."
"I just meant to keep an eye on them, that's all. I didn't think it would escalate."
"We'll deal with the public later. Let's focus on our two guests for now. It's true that we still don't know much about them, but from what Pharah told us earlier it's very likely that they are in the dark as much as we are. So why not a bit of quid pro quo?" he suggested, garnering some curious looks from the other two. "We could learn much from them if we simply ask."
"A direct approach? Not the smartest idea, Winston." Jack shot back. "If we agitate them in any way this base is as good as dead."
"I beg to differ." Winston frowned. He knew about Jack's lack of appreciation for the straightforward approach, always preferring to think twice before acting. But this wasn't exactly a battlefield, and the situation was anything but normal. "If they intended any harm they had plenty of opportunities to do it. Honestly I'm surprised they even agreed to come here in the first place."
"Besides, what's the worst that could happen?"
At that moment something seemed to explode in the proximity, its fading echo becoming known to the three in the room. Immediately after something akin to a miniature earthquake nearly threw them all to the ground. Pharah and Jack struggled to maintain their footing while Winston spun around helplessly in his undersized swivel chair. Dust parted from the ceiling and the lights flickered for a few seconds, but thankfully it didn't last.
"What the hell was that?!" shouted Jack. Pharah, already in motion, shoved her helmet on and stormed out the door. Winston could only stare up at the ceiling, where the rupture echoed from. Neither he nor Jack parted any words, simply observing the new cracks in their ceiling.
What were they up to now?
"How do you think he's able to pull off something like that? Did they like, create a new Doomfist model? Because that would be pretty sick." ranted a jumpy Hana, whose excitement knew no bounds. Much to the chagrin of those around her, she endlessly went on and on about the events of yesterday. Reinhardt, on the other hand, more than welcomed the geniality.
"Ha…! If only that were the case." he said, as he and his shorter companion strolled down the hallway beside each other. They discarded their combat gear for some more casual sets of clothing. For Hana they included a blue hoodie, while Reinhardt stuck with a black t-shirt and jeans. "Truth be told, the idea of someone else taking up the Doomfist makes me feel old."
"...Yeah, I guess you're right." It wasn't as though the current Doomfist would express any interest in such a thing, especially concerning his behavior in Numbani. "And honestly, someone that bald doesn't really fit the Doomfist moniker."
"Ha…! Barely a year in my sixties and my hair is still as silver as ever!" For added effect he brushed back his hair, the light bouncing off to announce its magnificent resolve. Not a single bald spot tainted its caliber. Just doing that made him feel as though he were reliving the glory days.
"What about that robot guy?" Hana asked. "Do you think the omniums were responsible?"
"Dunno. Doesn't look like much of an omnic to me." He actually kind of resembled Genji, now that he thought about it. He'd have to ask him about later; maybe he knew him from somewhere. "I'll give him this though, that's one helluva flamethrower he has tucked away in his arms." For a second there Reinhardt would have liked to believe that an actual dragon entered the battlefield.
"I know right? How come they don't outfit MY mech with that kind of weaponry?" she whined. Reinhardt, for his part, could only bellow in laughter. Hana proved herself talented not only in gaming, but also on the battlefield. He doubted someone like her needed THAT much DPS. Although he couldn't deny that it would be pretty epic. "...Remind me to call MEKA later. This is a serious matter."
Reinhardt was too busy fantasizing about fire breathing dragons and goblin armies to hear her.
They would have continued their conversation on the brilliance of broken weapons if it weren't for the rapid footsteps coming from behind.
"Get back here! I'm not finished with you yet!" Reinhardt for one, never ran from a fight. He intended to fight evil for as long as he breathed. But he wasn't stupid either, so when he turned around to find an enraged Saitama making a beeline at him, his reflexes kicked in, forcing him to swing against the wall. And from the looks of it, Hana followed suit. Good thing too, because less than a second later a blur of yellow and red rushed past them, a small vacuum of wind brushing against their bodies and kicking up a plume of dust.
They both looked down at the reinforced titanium floor, contorted by several imprints in the shape of a boot.
"What are you doing sitting there? What's going on- oh. Oh." They turned to see that Pharah had arrived to join in on the madness. She too, noticed the neat pattern of footprints leading down the hallway, and begun to understand a few implications.
Something similar to subsonic eruptions seemed to occur in the distance, with faint cries of 'Come back here!' or 'Stand still dammit!' barely being heard in the vicinity. Pharah hung her head, and let out a sigh of resignation.
This was going to be a long day.