Early April, 2082

Location: Watchpoint Rio Xingú, Brazil

Matthew "Mat" Mundy looked at his own face in the reflection from where he sat at the bed in his hospital gown, bewilderment ever evident in his expression.

He is still way thinner than he was used to, he seemed to still be a hundred years into the future... and it seems that he really is talking to an intelligent ape named 'Winston' that is on the other side of the glass.

The thing is, the fact that it all is possibly real, has just began to take root in Mat's head.

Mind the word 'began'.

Mundy still refuses to accept it completely.

"So… this is really 2082?" The aussie asks, surely for the third time.

"Yes," comes the ape's voice from the intercom, a bit tired at trying to convince the stubborn man about the situation.

"And I'm not in Teufort anymore?"

"You aren't even in America."

"But in Brazil?"

"Correct."

There is the tiniest of halts here, before the uncertain questions continues again from Mundy,

"In a base of sorts?"

"Yes."

"Of an organization called… 'Overwatch'?"

"That's us."

"And you fight crime? Over the whole world?"

"That's the idea of it."

"You also do it even when it is against the law?"

Here, Matthew frowns a bit.

He himself has done his fair share of breaking the law, as a few of the animals he hunted have been endangered. Not too many of his missions have been to take such prizes in, but it had still been there. The law had clearly stated that the animals is not to be exploited in any way, but he have never really been that much concerned or unfazed by any of it.

But then he had changed from hunting animals as a huntsman, may they have been endangered or not, to hunting humans as an assassin.

Then, almost all of his missions were illegal, except for very few exceptions.

"There's really an act that specifically forbids Overwatch to exist?" he asks.

He can hear the ape give a long, tired sigh, "Yes, the Petras act. An act that never should have been written."

If that is what he thinks Matthew doesn't care that much. Written laws isn't something that Matthew cares much about, and that applies to any law. The only problems that it creates in Mat's mind, is the best way to do it while remaining undetected, and, if he gets detected, how to evade the authority.

He's pretty sure that the other mercenaries are of a similar mind when it comes to the subject... some.

"The things that we have already done since Overwatch's reunion have been met with mixed reactions from throughout the world," continues the great ape.

"Some welcome us back with open arms and cheers... others thinks we just turned into another band of war criminals... Some scream for the Petras act to be broken, others scream just as loud to put more laws up against us — to punish us for both going against the act, and what we have done so far."

Winston looks down with a troubled face, "That Overwatch, together with all its old watchpoints, should be destroyed once and for all."

"But you are of another mind?" asks Matthew. "You want to bring back Overwatch?"

Winston nods, discreetly, but with honesty. It is obvious, he didn't need to ask that question. Matthew can't see the nod, due to Winston sitting behind an onw-way mirror, but the aussie understands it notheless.

There is another pause here, where Matthew puts his head back to stare at the ceiling in thought. Even though Winston never strayed one single inch from this story after three times, it is a big cake to swallow. And on top of that, it seems like Mat sees things that aren't there.

"The man that I saw earlier wasn't really there, right?" the marksman asks with a sigh, with the image of Gray's smiling face clear in his mind.

"The one in the doorway?" Winston asks

Mat nods, "Ye."

Winston shakes his head, "No."

It had surely been an hour since Matthew had woken up, and for the first half hour of that time, the only thing he has done is to pace back and forth in front of the one-way mirror, demanding that he speaks to Gray.

In the end, the aussie was forced to take a seat to rest his weakened and undernourished body.

It was only after fifteen minutes of more reasoning, that the ape had finally convinced Mundy that the real Gray was never inside of the building after all.

While Matthew was speaking with the ape, he did his best to avoid looking down on his own body, nor did he allow himself to look further down than to the neck of his own reflection.

He doesn't like the 'work' that Gray did to his body, and even takes it so far as to describe it as disgusting... which it truly was.

It was disgusting because of the reminders that he must drag with him. Reminders of what a horrible person Gray is in the form of scars, ports and hallucinations.

'I wonder if the others have hallucinations, too,' he thinks to himself.

For a moment, he plans to go to Medic to hear his plans for getting the mercenaries back into tip-top shape.

Then Mat is hit with the terrible fact that Medic isn't here anymore... and that he will never be able to come back... because he's dead.

"So?" comes Winston's voice over the intercom. "Can we let you out? Can we trust you to not cause any more trouble?"

Matthew brings his face back down the ceiling to look at the mirror. He tries to look past the face of his reflection, of his cheeks that are sunken in, his eyes that look like two gaping holes of a skeleton, and his ears that look to be sticking out from his rugged head now more than ever.

He tries to imagines the face of the ape behind that reflection, and only succeeds by half. He squints his eyes at his try, and sees the muscles around the darkened eye sockets shift. To have a conversation with an ape is strange, for lack of better words.

Can this be considered surreal?

He thinks so.

"I guess you can," Matthew answers, and then he gives a bitter smile. "I'll try to give you a heads-up if Gray or his bots comes back."

After a second the door out of his little room opens, and in comes the big ape itself. Mat gets up from his seat on the bed, and stumbles just lightly on his own feet as he makes it towards the opening.

"That is also a thing I want to speak about," Winston speaks as the marksman passes him, "Other than who you and your colleagues are, who is this Gray?"

"I'd love to have a chitchat with ya, but I'd like to have it first when I'm out in this ridiculous thing," explains the marksman. He gestures towards the hospital gown that is still donned on his body as he looks around on what there is on the other side of the door.

Matthew realizes that Winston turns out to be very understanding for an ape.

Only ten minutes later, the aussie sits on a bench at a table in the kitchen in an old uniform overall, which had been intended for Overwatch agents.

The uniform looks like it is three sizes too big on him, even when it is the right length. It was all because of how thin he had became under his very long time in the cryo-bed. And not only that, but the marksman also gotten a plate of food from Winston without even asking for it.

The plate, accompanied with a fork, a knife and a glass of milk, was neatly put in front of him on the table.

The marksman is marveled to hear his own stomach growl loudly.

He hadn't noticed that he worked up a real hunger.

He looks at Winston in mild surprise, whom has taken the seat in front of him on the other side of the table. How the bench under the ape can sustain the animal's weight without breaking, or to even give a creak, is beyond his understanding.

Matthew never would've guessed that he would get food just like that, and neither the overalls... for free, from someone that had no idea of who he is, nor to have any business with, or interest in him at all.

The ape only gives a silent sign to dig in on the food in front of him.

As Mat takes his first chews of the food, it turns out to be nothing other than a blessing to his body, he eyes not only Winston, but also, the other figure that had decided to join them in the kitchen.

It is the man from before, Carl.

He is leaning against one of the kitchen walls near where Winston and Mat is sitting, as he keeps a close eye on what the aussie is doing.

Matthew figured that Carl was worried about the illusions coming back, and that he'd go violent again.

'Hmph. Guess it's understandable.'

"So," Winston begins, friendliness highly evident in his voice even when the marksman had attacked him only an hour ago... it's something the aussie takes notice of, and finds that what he knows about the little contact he had with fellow humans, is a rare trait; to forget, and forgive something like this at a moments notice.

He himself wouldn't do that so easily.

"Mr. Mundy, care to bring some light over the situation?"

Matthew swallows the food intently. "Why not?" he says, "Whaddya wanna know?"

"Everything you can tell us."

Mat looks up to meet Winston's eyes, as there is a small pause. The marksman frowns a bit, as he thinks about it. "You can't be more specific about it?"

The great ape shrugs a bit, "Ah. You can begin with yourself, and then continue from there," he suggests.

"Fine," Matthew says, as he takes another forkful of the food into his mouth. He chews it quickly, then he swallows it all at once.

"The names Matthew, but my parents often call me 'Mat' for short." Matthew takes a pause here, as the picture of his parents comes up in his mind.

"I wonder what ever happened to them..."

"We wish that we could look it up for you," Winston shoots in. "But apparently there isn't any information we can find on you or the others. Where you're from... what you've done... nothing."

Mundy can only stare in silence when he hears this. When his ability to speak comes back to him he sounds more confused than he intends to, "Rubbish. You must have. What about the old newspapers? My dad should have at least something written about him there, as he owned the biggest farm in the area we lived in. Or what about my birth certificate?"

The following silence from the two beings in front of him only tells Mat that there had not been so much luck there.

He sighs, "How couldn't you find anything? You already knew my last name... wait, hold on a minute." Here he takes a small pause.

"How did you know my last name, but not anything else?"

Winston goes ahead to explain about the damaged hard drive, of what seems to be damaged dossiers on it, and that it had led the great ape all the way to the bunker in Russia.

"Russia?" Mat gasps, "Were we all the way out in Russia?"

Winston nods to his question.

"... Crikey, I wonder why we were even out there..." the marksman asks out loud, as much to himself as to Winston and Carl, "Last thing I remember, we were still back in the states... near Teufort."

"You didn't know anything of what was going to happen to you after the cryo-sleep?" the great ape asks.

The marksman shakes his head. "We weren't let in on anything when Gray forced all of us into the sleep in the end of 1971. We were just… you know."

Here he stops for just a second to point at where the ports and the scars are on his own body. He feels that if he just say the word 'operation' or 'surgery' he will have another flashback.

Winston nods with an interested face, and shows that he understands.

"All of us," Matthew continues, "At the same time in the same room. Then they must have blindfolded us or something. I can't remember much else."

Winston gets quiet and his face turns deadly serious. He eyes Matthew closely, and even leans in a bit closer over the table. The aussie can feel a small knot in his stomach taking form as he wonders what the ape is doing.

There's just something about an ape that looks very serious while getting intimidatingly closer, which unnerves him. Maybe it's the size of him, or maybe it is the deep-rooted instinct of how regular apes behave while near humans.

Mundy is definitely unaccustomed to an animal that can show such complicated or intense feelings just as good as any human.

To sit as close as the two of them does now too. So close, that the marksman can get such a good look of its expressions doesn't help, and that the gaze is directed directly at Mat helps even less...

Matthew just finds it deeply disturbing of an ape to stare right at him with such an earnestness as Winston has right now.

"You were forced?" the great ape asks, slowly and clearly.

"Yeah."

Another small pause comes before the next questions comes, and as the question comes a few, deep, angry wrinkles appear on Winston's forehead.

"And the operations for those?" A gesture from the ape's big hand towards the ports indicates to the marksman what Winston means.

"The operation for the ports? Was it forced, too?"

Carl visibly freezes at the mention of an operation and the thoughts of the ports, as well as the aussie.

Mat can see something shift in the corner of his eye, and he can see Gray himself haze in for just a heartbeat.

Of course, the damn smile is the thing that is the clearest, even when Mat only can see it from the corner of his vision.

The man in his gray suit just stands there, as the illusion just observes him. Then, as fast as it appeared, it hazes out.

Matthew can't help but to feel some of the pain in his body from the operation, nor the small sense that the knives are back and are moving on his body, but he is quick to force it back quickly.

He refuses to succumb to another of those attacks this day, even though he can feel some of his muscles twitch. He is able to contain the attack, and with a shaky outtake of his breath, Mundy thanks his maker that this attack was a milder one.

It takes a moment for the man to answer. He averts his eyes towards the closest wall, which the table they are sitting at stands up against.

"Yeah," Mat answers. "Forced…without any painkillers- sedatives- or whatsoever."

Mundy can see from the corner of his eye how the great ape still observes him.

Winston's face had relaxed; his seriousness in his eyes are still there, but the rest of the face lost all of the earlier graveness. Even the wrinkles on the ape's forehead is gone. Winston's mouth was still open in shock. Carl had a similar reaction, but he is able to not let his lower jaw hang loose.

It takes a moment before Winston and Carl is able to pull themselves together, and in that time, Matthew takes the chance to clear his mind completely of the memory.

He had the idea that it wasn't exactly the best time to be thinking about it, as the memory seems to make him very aggressive and completely deranged for a certain period.

To see illusions of Gray and his bots. To mistake people that were just trying to help for the enemy instead... and to relive the forced operation with his limbs cramping...

It's all very painful, disorienting and invites the feeling of nervous vulnerability, like he has no exit in the sight of grave danger.

He doesn't like it at all.

He tries to focus on the food in front of him instead, and slowly takes a few more forks-full of it into his mouth.

The food starts to get cold, but it's okay with him; cold food is better no food.

"So," Matthew says after eating most of what lies on the plate, and brings attention to himself, "What else?"

Winston clears his throat as the last of the shock disappears from his appearance, "Go on about yourself, please." He beckons, "You told us your name is Matthew, but others also call you, 'Mat'?"

"That's right. I was born and brought up in Australia. I was the only child. When it comes to friends... I don't have a lot, and the few that still are alive today is the ones that have been put into cryo-sleep together with me."

He stops himself here for only a fraction of a second. "Although," he grimaced, "I can't say that all of them are my friends." He said, referring to a certain Spy and what was left of his bunch, "None of them know my name, though."

Winston shares a weird look with Carl, before they both turn back to Mat.

"Why not?" asks the great ape.

"It wasn't a requirement to tell it to coworkers when I was hired by RED..." When the aussie sees the uncomprehending expressions on the two others he curses his old habits; he must use the whole name instead of just the abbreviation. "RED. The abbreviations stand for, Reliable Excavations and Demolition," he elaborates.

"Never heard of it," Winston comments, before the ape looks to Carl for his input.

The man shakes his head as he too, don't know anything about it.

"Then what about the BLU-"

Matthew takes one of his hands and brings it up to his face in some frustration over the old habits that is still deep-rooted.

"Ugh, I mean the Builders League United."

No recognition sparks in the faces of the others, and without any need of a spoken word, Mundy already has his answer.

That's when Mat knows that he had to make a small summary of everything he knew of these two business. About the two brothers-turned-rivals named Redmon and Blutarch Mann, about the gravel war and, at last, the return of the long lost third brother, Gray... with his Gray Gravel Company.

Matthew also tells them what little he knows of Gray's murder of his two brothers, which isn't much.

That is about the same time everything went to hell and back.

"Is this the same Gray that forced you and the others into the surgeries and the cryo-sleep?" This time it is Carl that asks the question for a change.

"Yes, he is," answers the marksman.

Mat can see that the answer angers the ape greatly, and even Carl is visibly shaken.

It surprises the aussie that they react this way; they didn't even know him, they had no obligation to him or his well-being, but yet they had such a strong reaction when they heard about it, and yet they haven't heard the details of the surgery, nor the more ingoing information of Gray.

They had barely came to know Matthew as a person... In truth, Mat is half unsure of how he is to react on it... But he knows to feel some gratitude towards these strangers that he just came to know, for their care of someone they barely know in return.

"I think I need to do some more research on the things you have told us," Winston declares and stands up, "More specifically on this... Gray."

Just at that moment, someone enters the kitchen, a woman that Matthew hadn't met before.

She stops at the door, and glances nervously at the marksman. Mat knows her reasons for doing so wa because of his actions during his phantom-tantrum, and that he himself would keep distance in her place. He didn't blame her for her behavior.

"Mercy and Mei are both conscious now," She reports to Winston. "Mercy did indeed have a mild concussion, but she is able to do light work. What I recommend is rests for her, and frequently... She might get nausea if she decides to overwork herself, but other than that, she'll be fine and heal on her own."

"Good," says the great ape. "How about Mei?"

"She has quite a bit of swelling on her face, but nothing's broken. She can get back to work immediately without any trouble."

"Hm. Question is if they really feel like going straight back to work."

Winston nods at the woman, "Thank you, Kimiko. Go and see if they need any more help."

The woman, Kimiko, turns and exits the kitchen the same way she entered.

Winston turns back to Matthew to study him for a moment.

"The things you have told us is enough so far, but I think that we should end the conversation here. I need to look into this information in the archives anyway. I suggest you should go back to your bed now, Mr. Mundy."

"If you say so," Mat agrees and quickly puts the last of his cold food on the plate, into his mouth.

After swallowing it down, he stands up, but as he turns and is about to exit the kitchen, he's suddenly stopped by a big hand on his shoulder.

The marksman looks back and observes the great ape with a raised eyebrow.

"I'll instruct Mercy to come and check up on you," Winston tells him, sternness prominent in his tone, "I want to believe that you will not try to attack her again, but in case of a relapse — I can't be sure on it however much I dislike it. Can I have your word that you will at least try not to attack anyone of us in the future if you see these illusions again?"

"Mate, it's the least I can do," Mundy answers, sincerity in his voice.

"Good." The ape gives Mat a small pat before Winston lets the man's shoulder go.

"Carl will show you to the quarters that you can have as long you stay here at watchpoint Rio Xingú." Winston says.

As Matthew is escorted to his new living quarters, he can't fail to notice that Carl keeps a close eye on him, making sure that Mat won't try anything stupid...

- An hour later -

Matthew's new living quarters is the size of a smaller studio flat; it was only one room that had a natural one-sized bed that cam completed with clean sheets, a couch for two, an empty bookshelf and a writing table with a lamp on it.

Brown is the most dominant color of the room, as the walls, roof and some parts of the furniture have said coloring.

Other than the furniture and the other parts of the room, the floor is white, as well as the rest of much of the furniture.

Not really brown, but half of brown and white.

The only dot of other color in the room is the lamp, which is a deep, vibrant red.

There are no windows, which Mat likes.

Past experiences have lead him to worry of enemy Snipers and Spies creeping on him via windows, and transparent objects...

There is a door other than the one Matthew had entered in, and when he opened this second door, he is not surprised to see a small, private bathroom.

There is the standard toilet, basin and bathroom cabinet with a built-in mirror on the wall over the basin. There's also is a shower with white one big jalousie.

In the bathroom, everything is completely white, with the exception of the silver-grey that makes out the mirror and its frame in the bathroom cabinet as well as some minor details of the shower.

The white-glistening glass tiles that covers the walls inside the room gives him the notion that either this bathroom had either been recently cleaned — down to the millimeter.

Or, it may have never been used.

Matthew realizes that the same might apply for the whole quarters.

Compared to the usual places of temporary residence he took haven in, this is something comparable to a five star hotel, if not, then ten at least...

Not that he thinks it's perfect, because that would be an exaggeration; but he's used to having some dirt laying around everywhere.

He gets an idea of wanting to exit the quarters and go exploring the rest of the base while he waits for that checkup that Winston mentioned to him, but Matthew figures that it is better off to just wait and see if these 'Overwatch' people will give him a tour over the area.

And besides, Carl locked the door.

The marksman wondered if it was a direct order from the ape.

Matthew scoffs, "Pfft... Safety measures and low trust. So long for 'forgive and forget'." He sighs. "Agh, but damn. Can I really blame them for worrying about me?" he asks himself.

As promised, a woman comes to check up on him an hour after he entered the quarters.

He spent the majority of his twenty minutes just laid down, facing up on the bed to stare at the roof. He had a lot to just... think about, and his gaze have been mostly glued at the big roof lamp in the middle of the room while his thoughts whirled on around in his mind. Sometime during those twenty minutes, he found himself recognizing the roof lamp in the back of his mind.

He gives a bit of a jolt when the woman finally enters, and rises from where he lies on the bed to a sitting position on the edge.

Matthew finds that he recognize the woman the second he lays his eyes on her; it is the woman with the angel wings.

She had been there when he first woken up.

After her the woman named Kimiko, comes in, only to act as a guard at the door.

"Hello, Mr. Mundy," she greets. "My name is, Mercy."

Mat immediately picks up on the slight accent of her voice, and his mind goes back to Medic as fast as lightning.

As it turns out, Mercy had a slightly German accent just as Medic... but feminine (obviously), and light... just as an angel was supposed to sound like.

The sight of Medic's unmoving face on an operating table flashed in his mind, and Mundy himself feels himself drifting away to another flashback.

He tries really hard to stay in the present.

'Why didn't I pick it up when I heard her speak the first time?' He figures that there might have been too much else on his mind, and he was also under the effect of a strong sedative at the time.

"What's the matter?" Mercy asks, a bit alarmed when she sees his strained expression, as she approaches quickly to evaluate if there is anything that is visibly wrong with him.

He fights mentally in an attempt to stay in the present.

For half a second, he only finds it to grow worse, and he worries that he will cramp up again.

But then he gets the idea of imagining himself in a clearing... doing what he loved doing... sniping.

'A bloody good job', as Mat would describe it.

When he's scoped in, his mindset is often, if not always, calm, in order to focus on his goal with no unnecessary distractions.

If his mind is calm, he would always hit his mark with precision, and his movements would be more delicate and quiet. He proved to be effective when in a calm mindset, and he is 100% about being effective.

Being polite... being efficient, and his favourite — Having a plan to kill everyone he meets.

"You have the same tang as a late friend of mine," he answers after a few seconds with deep, slow breaths, as he finds the stress in his mind more manageable.

He doesn't get into more details about it, both that he doesn't really want to and that he doesn't want to lose a grip on his mind.

"Oh," Mercy replies, sad to hear that his friend is dead, "Was this friend from Switzerland?"

"No, Germany."

"Then I understand the similarity. One of Switzerland's national languages is German, of course. I happen to be from there, and speak that same language. It was there that I learned much about medicine, and where I became a doctor." As she explains she brings up a pen and a notepad that she have hold on to when she have entered, but that Mundy have missed.

She begins to scribble down a few notes.

'He and you would have an easy time talking to each other,' Mat thinks to himself, referring to the dead Medic.

Mat finds it slightly funny that the first doctor who checks up on him just so happens to know German and speak English with a slight German accent, just like Medic himself.

But it isn't funny as in comical... but more sad and cruel.

For a moment, he slips away from his focus again, from the image of sitting in the clearing, the stress intensifies. But then he collects his focus again, and quickly, the moment is over.

"Well, Mr. Mundy-," she begins, but doesn't get any further as Mat speaks over her..

"Please," Mat interrupts as he massages his temples in a slumped position on the bed. "Just call me Mundy. Or better yet, call me, Sniper."

He was tired of being addressed by 'Mister', or even by his last name for that matter.

He didn't like it... it sounded way too formal for his liking, but it seems that both Mercy and Winston were just determined to call him 'Mr. Mundy'.

He first thought of asking her to call him by his first name, but then he changed his mind at the last second.

Only his parents did that, and they have long since been dead.

"As you wish, Sniper," Mercy corrects herself with a smile, now a bit more upbeat.

"What I can tell, is that you have PTSD. Short for, post-traumatic stress disorder."

"Figures," Mundy comments, as he suspected that he had a serious problem after the experiences with the flashbacks.

"From what I have heard from Winston, I suspect that your colleagues might very well have PTSD as well."

He nods, "Yep."

"I also suspect that they will have the same reaction when they wake up for the first time... as you have."

Matthew slowly looks up at Mercy.

The thought had hit him too, and it is nothing that he wishes for any of them.

Maybe not as much for the REDs as for the BLUs, but anyways,

Spy, Pyro, Heavy and Demoman have all been REDs, and all of them have been his enemies once. But that had all been before Gray and his bots. After that, and the death of Redmond and Blutarch, the mercenaries from both the REDs and the BLUs have realized that they aren't fighting for money anymore...

They were fighting to survive.

Even though the two halves of the group shared a great dislike for each other, it have appeared that somewhat of a fellowship have been created between them as they fought a common enemy.

A few have even come to call each other friends, who have earlier been antagonists. But the marksman have been one of the few exceptions to that. He had refused, and still refuses, to mingle with the REDs.

But even though, somehow, the fellowship might have affected him just a tiny bit, as he does feel an obligation to protect the whole team — Even the half he likes the least.

Mundy did find out on a side note though, that Demoman is not as much as a 'wanker' as the rest of the bunch when it comes to celebrating.

It had happened once the marksman wanted to forget everything of Gray and resort to the reliable bottle with the drunkard.

That was a night that was just a blur in Mat's mind.

In other words, a complete success.

He was happy to have known the Demoman on that day, and believed that the Scotsman couldn't be such a bad person after all...

But he was still a 'wanker'.

"So, do you have any plan for the eight others, do-." He interrupts himself, as he is in the middle of saying the nickname for the Medic.

He reminds himself that he needs to be calm, and that the other doctor is dead. Medic will not mind of him calling this female doctor in front of him for doc. "Doc," he forces himself to say, to prove that it won't cause no harm to just say it.

"Oh, Winston must have forgotten to tell you," Mercy exclaims as the sadness comes back to her. "There is just seven of you now."

"Seven?" Horror creeps in slowly at who he might have lost while he was asleep.

"Yes... The one called, Pyro... he died when… it's?" She shrugged, "It's cryo-bed failed."

When it comes to what gender to identify Pyro as, it is evident that Mercy is unsure on what term to use.

It was fair, because no one knew what was behind that mask either.

Not even a forensic surgery performed by an experienced doctor can show it.

The marksman don't know how to feel about that.

The Pyro was such a valuable asset to the mercenaries, as the team couldn't have withstand Gray as long as they managed to if not for Pyro. But the same could be said about all the mercenaries.

It wasn't like Mat spent much time with Pyro; in fact, the pyromancer is the one Matthew had spent the least amount of time with, and that thing was part of RED, a nagging fact he just can't seem to ignore.

"Well, that's…" Mat searches for a word that can fit while he tries to sound sincere, but has a hard time doing so. "Unfortunate," he decides after just a brief second.

Matthew can see that the small pause, together with the mild undertone of uncertainty, is noticed by Mercy.

She looks at him, with her head a bit on its side. The aussie panics just a bit to be perceived as cold instead, so his mind scrambles on how he should go about changing the subject.

That's when he notices the bruise that is barely visible under Mercy's locks of hair...

"I'm sorry for... that," he awkwardly says, and points to the area of his own head to clarify.

Even though it came out sounding forced, he successfully brings enough empathy in his voice to show the woman that he is genuinely sincere of his apology. She was only trying to help after all, and he harmed her in return.

'I suspect that she was the one that I hurled into the wall,' he wonders to himself.

For a moment, Mercy doesn't give a comment on his apology, as she seems too focused on his strange reaction.

But then she does, and she quickly waves off his concerns.

"It's nothing, really," she ensures. "It is quite an experience to be the patient for once."

She then goes back to scribble down some more notes on her notepad.

"Well, Mr. Mu- I mean, Sniper," she re-stated, "how do you feel at the moment?"

"Right now? I feel fine," he replies, and it wasn't a lie.

He is reminded of Medic every time Mercy opens her mouth to speak, and he can feel the stress bulging in his mind when she conversed with him, but it is manageable at the moment.

And he had never been the type to talk about his problems.

Whenever he was feeling stressed or panicky, he only halted himself for a moment to listen to the silence that he found so common in his loneliness.

Whether it have been in the forest far before the gravel war, or in his usual spot in his lookout tower during it.

"No illusions, fear, or rage?"

"Nah, none."

He pauses here, as Mercy writes down a few more points in her notepad.

When she's done, she looks up at Mundy and gives him a small smile.

"That's good to hear. But PTSD is not something that will go over by itself. You will surely get more attacks where your memories, and your feelings during those memories, will be brought back again in attacks that you'll surely remember. Therefore, I strongly suggest you to get treatment for it."

"Nah, Doc, I'll do fine," the marksman says, waving her suggestion away.

He's positive that he can just deal with the memories from here on out; just look how well he's handling the stress he gets from Mercy's accent.

"Mr. Sniper, I'm afraid that I will not give you much choice in the matter," she announces as she crosses her arms.

Her voice and posture takes on of a more authoritative tone.

"I'm tellin' you, Doc, I won't need it," Matthew tries again, this time with some irritation that his actions were being commanded by someone he just met.

"And it's just, 'Sniper'." He repeats himself.

"And I'm telling you that you will be assigned to therapy sessions together with the others as soon as they all are awake," persists Mercy.

Mat feels that his nerve had been triggered, and that his irritation rises.

"Bloody hell- I know my body and mind better than you ever will, thank you very much. I say that I go better off without any therapy sessions, and absolutely without the sessions that those baboons are forced to go to."

Without letting go of her authority and with no irritation to show on her whatsoever, Mercy is unfazed by Mundy's ramble.

"I bet that those 'baboons' are not as bad as you give them out to be, Mr. Sniper, and I sure hope that you go to the same sessions as them. Or it will be very lonely for you when you just sit there by yourself on your own sessions."

His irritation reaches its peak quickly in this rate, Mat can feel it all too well against his own will.

Without his own permission his legs stands up on their own accord.

"I. WILL. NOT. GO. TO ANY SESSIONS." He insists, "I know those baboons the best of the two of us, I know that if they get together it will turn into a circus! And for the bloody third time — it is ONLY, 'SNIPER'!" He huffs out, irritated.

There they stand in silence for just a moment.

Her with her 67 inches of height and her assertive demeanor.

Him with his 73 inches and his rebelling stance.

The moment drags on, until she finally speaks again.

"You will go to therapy sessions, period."

It is only now that Matthew realizes that he had been holding in his breath, as it is now that he lets out an angry exclamation while he brings his hands in the air.

"And I will only start calling you 'Sniper' when I deem that you deserve it," she goes on without any bigger notice to his reaction.

The nerve of this doctor!

'She's almost as irritating and disturbing as-'

Matthew stops himself again.

He didn't want to hear it, he didn't even want to think about it. There was no way in hell and beyond that there is a reincarnation of Medic standing in front of him.

There's just no way!

And yet here, the very proof seems to stand straight ahead of him, with her arms crossed and an expectant look about her; like a parent would have to a child when they found out that they did something wrong.

Matthew takes a seat back on the bed, and looks away from the doctor.

He had enough of her. The damn prescriptions and her annoying similarity to Medic... He can take care of this problem by himself, like he did with most of his problems.

And when he wants help, he'll ask for it.

"You better like the situation, Mr. Sniper," Mercy speaks and goes back to scribbling down new notes. "It will not change."

The marksman sighs to calm his nerves, and in the process looks up at the roof, more specifically at the lamp that hangs there, which looks familiar to something specific he had seen before (He's seen lamps before, but this one reminded him of something specific).

With a click of his brain, he now knows where he'd seen it from.

It was based off the very same design used for the lamps in the kitchen of BLUs base.

He has mostly been in his van on the hours off, but when he finds his coffee to be out, he would go to the kitchen in hopes of finding more of the addictive fluid...

'Great, now I'm craving for coffee.'

There's a sudden pounding on the door to the rest of the base, and Kimiko, who had been left completely forgotten until now, opens the door.

Both Mercy and Mat turn their attention towards the entrance in curiosity of the intrusion.

"Mei? What's the matter?" Kimiko asks with a hint of worry.

"It is one of the other mercenaries," a voice says, and Matthew recognizes the voice to belong to the other woman who have been there when he have woken up the first time.

The one with the hair stick... Mat didn't know what the official terminology was for those.

He remembers the name from the second time he woke up.

'She must've been the one that I saw as a damn Sniper-Bot when I woke up the last time.'

Mat's ears sharpen to hear what Mei had to say, picking up on the info that it is something about the other mercenaries.

"It is the one called, 'Scout'," Mei continues. "He is just beginning to wake up."

Scout?

He was the youngest of all the mercenaries, barely 19 years of age, and is a fellow member of BLU.

He is called a boy by everyone due to his young age and childish ways, but insists himself that he is anything but that. Mat found him more irritating that most of the BLUs, because the boy wants to be everywhere, to do everything and have a snarky 'in-your-face' attitude...

How someone as, Scout, had landed himself a as a mercenary was beyond Matthew, but despite it, he was still a mercenary.

Even though the marksman finds the boy as distracting and irritating, Mat feels that a nagging worry starting to creep up on him.

He did somewhat care for Scout... like a parent.

He assumed that all the BLUs feel somewhat of a parental responsibility for the youngest member, and that Scout will most likely experience what Mat had experienced when waking up…

Let's just say that the marksman's sympathy works as it should.

"Oh dear," Mercy says, and prepares to get out thru the door together with Kimiko, "I must take care of this. Mr. Sniper, I will be back in a moment."

"Oi, hold on," Matthew shoots in and takes a stand from the bed, "You never told me your plan for when the other's wake up."

Mercy halts only as briefly as a quick glance back at the dangly marksman allows, "Truth be told, I don't really have one," she admits quickly, "But the best bet is to hold him down until the worst is over, if it turns out that he has PTSD."

It might be the action that is the best, even though it might not sound that appealing. Mat would know because he has lived through it himself, "If that's the case, I want to be the one that holds him down," Mundy says as he nears the doctor and the exit.

"Mr. Sniper, you really shouldn't," Mercy insists, "You should stay here and rest."

Matthew only finds himself annoyed at Mercy's suggestion. He doesn't want to be coddled with; he feels strong enough to move around, and therefore qualified in his own mind to do this. After all, he overpowered a great ape and two women in the matter of a minute only a little more than an hour before. Then there is also the irritation of that formal 'Mister' that Mercy continues to address him by...

"I gotten enough rest," he ensures, irritation apparent in his tone, "And don't you think his awakening might go smoother if there is someone he actually recognizes in the room?"

Mercy holds up to swiftly observe the marksman, a look that tries to uncover if there is any other agenda for Mundy to do this.

As he confidently walks past her, Kimiko and Mei, Matthew can feel her eyes on him, together with the stare of the other two women, but is relieved to not hear any objections whatsoever. On the way out, he gets a good look at Mei, and feels a bit guilty over what he sees.

Her face had a noticeable oval bruise over her face, and she takes a few quick steps back as he passes with a mildly worried expression to be near him.

Mat takes a mental note to say 'sorry' to her when he gets time.

"What are you waiting for?" he speaks as he comes out into the hallway outside his quarters, "Will any of you take the lead, or what?"

Mei jogs forward to the front of the group before she slows down to a rapid walk, and the rest of them follow suit.

Matthew is right behind her, Mercy and Kimiko take up the rear. Mundy hides a thankful smile that he is allowed to take care of this.

He surprises himself a bit with this; he had never figured himself to do something like this. Yet here he is, on his way to what he can only foresee to be a situation where he comforts an irritating, egotistic, immature adult.


Early April, 2082

Location: Somewhere in Hamada, Japan

The ghost of grey steel stays as quiet as a shadow, and as still as a rock. It looks down on what's under him, from where he half lies, half crouches on the horizontal support beam in the old factory house in the style of 1920 architecture.

It was a long way down from the floor, surely a 15-20 meter drop. Where the ghost sits, it is virtually undetected in the darkness, as the crude lightings that the building have, are seated on the underside of the very beams he is on.

Grey's ghost would only be detected if it would make a sound, or if someone below would just happen to look up where the phantom is with a flashlight.

The latter option would be the most probable, even though that the option did have a low chance of happening.

Genji Shimada is in what first looks to be a full body armor of steel and metal.

Many of the contemporary citizens can mistake him for what is called an 'Omnic', which in itself, isn't completely untrue.

He is in the core a human, but many of his limbs have been replaced with mechanical parts.

He's a deadly ninja with precise efficiency, and one of the best in the art of sword-to-sword combat, preferably a katana...

Currently, this ninja is out on an important recon mission of his own...

Below him, there are a group of people, which is discussing in low, hushed voices. Most of them are humans, but there is also just a few omnics amongst them, too.

Their clothes are mixed; some are dressed in smoking and the likes, others have more casual clothing, like hoodies and jeans. What they are speaking about is half clear, and the echo of their voices that bounces between the empty walls only makes it sound like a low murmur of a crowd. Despite it, Genji did have a general idea of what they were talking about.

In the middle of the people below there is a big object that is covered in a big cloth.

Occasionally the people around it are glancing at it, pointing at it or, carefully patting it. Their all edgy around the mysterious big package, and there is soon proven to be of good reason.

"Friends," there comes a voice in Japanese, louder than the others.

The murmur dies out immediately, and leaves it easy to hear this new voice. The one that owns it comes forward from the entrance, dressed in a white shirt and black pants.

It is the voice of a male human, but Genji can't see his face from this angle. The man seems to be in his late thirties or early forties.

"Welcome to the party," the man continues, still in Japanese. "I'm glad that everyone could make it."

The man places himself not that far from one of the edges of the big package, as all eyes in the room draw toward him.

"I have gathered you all here for an important reason. My benefactor is interested in hiring, and considers to take in all of you — From the lower criminal rings to the higher." As he speaks the last phrase, he first extends one hand to the group in the casual clothing, then one hand to the group of the more classy clothing.

"The goal of the mission in question is… well, you will all find out if you accept it," the man continues as he brings his arms down to his sides, "I am not allowed to tell of the mission until the consent is given from you. For those who refuse, you simply will not find out at all."

"How dangerous is it?" asks an omnic, with the colors of white and red.

The metal-man speaks in Japanese, too. "Will it be hard?"

"Yes, it is," nods the man, truthfully, "It is therefore the reward is as high as it is."

"Here is something that I guess everyone in here is interested in," speaks one human up, a woman, in Japanese. This one, though, had a heavy American accent.

Genji cringes a bit at the pronunciation, but lets the american continue on with his sentence, "What will we get in returns for our effort? Are you allowed to mention that?" she asks.

"Of course," says the man in the white shirt, "A fair question. As the reward for your services, my benefactor is ready to pay with weapons, ammunition, vehicles, money or whatever assets your organizations acquires. Whatever you want, and how much you want."

Here the man halts to let the approving murmurs rise and die out, "AFTER, the mission is done you will get what you have asked for, not before. And the reward will only be delivered if my benefactor finds your services fully fulfilled."

Looks are shared between the summoned crowd, and the second after hushed discussions ensues. Half a minute went by before the voices died down. One after one, the people agree to the conditions, until all in the room have sworn allegiance to the man in the white shirt.

"Good," the man says and walks up to the package, "then I guess that I have the liberty to say what you all have a roll in to do." He puts his hands on the cloth that covers whatever that is underneath, and shoves it to the side.

A giant warhead is revealed, and a collective gasp is heard in the room.

Genji himself can't help to slip out a small puff of air.

After a third murmur comes from the small crowd, from the little the ninja can hear from the sound of voices, the group had heard a rumor that there might have been explosives. But it turns out that everyone was surprised to find a weapon of such... mass destruction, inside the building.

"My friends," the man in the white shirt hushes the crowd, a wicked smile falling over his face, "You are to plunge the world into disorder."


Early April, 2082

Location: Watchpoint Rio Xingú, Brazil

Benjamin "Ben" Radcliff's first conscious thought is that of his dry throat.

He figures that he had slept for a while with his mouth open.

He tries to swallow a few times to get moisture back inside, and frowns a bit when he finds that it's taking slower than usual.

'Maybe I should go get a glass of water.'

He stays reluctant for a long time before doing so, as he finds himself extremely comfortable just laying in bed asleep.

He doesn't feel great; his head is hazy and throbs so badly, that he wouldn't believe it.

"It feels like I'm sick... Maybe I should just stay here for the day," he mumbles.

With a groan, he finally decides after a long-spun moment to go for short trip to the kitchen if it means to get rid of his dry throat.

He opens his eyes for the first time, and immediately flinches away from the bright light with a surprised grunt.

He didn't remember leaving the light on in his room the other night...

His frown deepens.

There's a lot he didn't remember last night… like,

the whole night.

... Neither the whole day.

"Ugh. Did I even go to bed last night?" he asks, "I can't even remember."

His confusion only worsens once his eyes adjusts to the light and has a look around of his surroundings.

He finds himself not to be in his bedroom, as he have assumed from the beginning, but a room that is completely foreign to him.

He sits up with a jerk, with his dry mouth forgotten in a heartbeat.

His eyes dart around on everything in the small room, from the one-way mirror, the intercom and the camera to all the machines that he can best describe as something out from his sci-fi magazines that he usually reads when free time is a given!

He takes a few moments of wordless struggle to solve this conundrum, and the only thing that comes out of it is more throbbing pain inside his head.

The loss of memory that he swears that he should have can't just disappear on him! He must've done something to get to where he is...

Then his eyes settles on one single spot; his own reflection in the mirror.

For a moment, he doesn't understand that he's actually observing himself, but when he finally does... he has trouble accepting it.

He had thinned down considerably in the face.

'Ma ain't gonna like that,' he thinks to himself.

He finds himself think that sentence out of reflex, as he had done the exact same thing before trouble hits the fan, or when he figures out just how big the problem he really dug himself into.

On numerous times of his childhood, he'd gotten into trouble, some times of his own making, and other times it is of his seven older brothers' making.

Yes, he had SEVEN brothers, all of them with a knack for making trouble of themselves, and all older than him.

The one with the biggest talent for trouble though, is the runt of the litter; little Benjamin Radcliff.

However, no one can call him little, he hates being told he was little. Despite his disdain, his brothers had called him that way too much for his liking.

Mothers wouldn't like their kids to be in any kind of trouble, right?

Of course not, Benjamin gets that.

So his mother had, as every mother did to a trouble magnet of a son, told him time and time again to stay OUT of trouble.

Ben finds it very irritating that staying out of trouble goes often as well as teaching a fish how to fly, much to his mother's concern. His mom also wanted him to gain just a few pounds in weight, as she thinks that the runt of her sons is just a tiny bit too scrawny.

Now, when Ben gets to see his emaciated face, this is the first thing he thinks of.

When he looks down on his body, he notices that his whole indeed thinned down.

'Ma won't like that.'

The phrase comes to him again, as he realizes that something must be very wrong. He definitely remembers having more to his body than the distinctive skeleton he is currently looking at.

He sees bumps on his knees that reflects slightly in the bright light, and it takes a moment for him to understand that those bumps are not supposed to be there, neither the scars that surround them. He is then forced to make a double take of his whole body, and as he sees that the bumps are not only on his legs, but there are two on each of his arms and legs, as well as four embedded in his chest, additional scars are on his wrists and ankles...

It is from the first look of the straps that Ben starts to remember some of the events that his mind had slipped off without him ever even knowing.

The memories come back slowly at first, but the that he remembers, the faster it all comes back.

The pain tears into his mind and his body as sudden as the drop of a coin.

His body cramps up and his screams comes on its own free will, as he is sent into a flashback that he would never want to relive again.

He remembers everything, and it is all unbearable. He fights against the leather straps that he holds him down, as his screams of mercy and his mother mixes together with the pained sounds of the others, but it seems that it's the only thing that he can do, as the flashback plays its course. He remembers that he had been between The Spy and The Demoman, as the two of them sound the closest.

He can't be sure though, as at times, everything would just mash together into just one loud murmur in the background when the pain gets too intense for him to bear.

Suddenly the leather straps that holds Ben, tightens around him.

The panic grows, and he tries to struggle even more. The straps only gets a better grip around him. A tear began to stream down his cheek, as he believes that this is the end of him.

'Their gonna cut my friggin' heart out! They gonna let me bleed to death!'

His fanatic mind brings back his mother, of all the times she have told him to stay out of trouble, of the times she hugged him, the times she kissed a scraped knee when he had been really little... good memories of her, clouding his mind.

He calls out to her- screams for her, and pleads for the pain to just stop.

His surroundings slowly change, and the screams from the other mercenaries fade away, little by little.

The bright light from the little room with the one-way mirror gets more pronounced.

The knives disappears into thin air, together with the medibots and their cold, unmoving faces. The pain remains the longest, but after a while that too slowly goes away. His own screams die down to a series of whimpering and silent sobs.

But there is one thing that refuses to go away; the tightness around him.

He believes for a few moments that he hadn't escaped the operation, that he is still being held idle by the leather straps of the operating table. He realizes at the end that there are no straps that hold him, but a pair of strong arms... And they aren't holding him down to the bed, their cradling him up in a slight seated position — A hold that keeps his arms close to his body and slightly rocks him back and forth.

He also noticed that something is right in front of his face that blocks some of the light, something that a gentle hand presses his head against; a compact wall of something that is warm, a bit hard and… strangely soothing.

He is suddenly aware that deaf heartbeats fills the ear that is tightly squeezed to the wall, and figures out that the wall he sees must be someone's chest cage.

He wonders for the smallest fraction if it is his mother that had come to save him from the pain...

But it isn't her; the distinct sweet smell that she had is not the strange odor that invades Ben's nostrils. It must be someone else, which tightly holds him in their arms.

"Please don't hurt me anymore," Benjamin Radcliff cries weakly between sobs, "… please, don't… I just… j-j-just want to go home… t-to my Ma."

There is a small pause before Ben gets an answer, and when he hears who it is he finds himself in surprise and shock.

"Don't worry, Scout," says the voice, that sounds exactly as Sniper's, in a reassuring voice. "I'm not gonna hurt one of my own."

Ben hadn't expected Sniper at all, neither does the boy know how the other man could have escaped the cryo-bed or Gray. He doesn't even know how he himself have gotten out of the cryo-bed!

There is a small halt, where Ben strains his neck to look up at Sniper, to see if it really is him.

Indeed, Ben didn't mistake the voice; the dangly marksman is really standing there by the side of the bed, and closely holds the runner's upper body in the arms.

He can say that he knows Sniper well, but not this well, and Ben is also pretty sure that this is nothing the older man does often... ever, for that matter.

Does Sniper even hug or show any connection to his own mother? His own parents?

The runner wouldn't know, it's not like he's been home to the other man.

Sniper usually tends to avoid other people completely in favor of the privacy of his lookout tower.

The man was just a withdrawn guy... very reserved.

Ben suspects that the sight must be strange.

In his normal state of mind, he would never get the idea to hug or let be hugged by any other people, other than his mother or his brothers.

Least of all the mercenaries that he have worked with the last three years of his life.

If any of them would hug him, Benjamin would probably immediately run the furthest distance away from them.

He agrees that this would look really suspicious, and wonders if any of his brothers would take to call him teasing names if they ever get to know about this.

But right now, the soothing presence of someone, who just wanted to comfort him with a shoulder to cry on, is just what the boy needs.

So, when Ben feels more tears threatening to come down his cheeks, he doesn't care if it looks strange or suspicious. He digs his face into the fabric that covers Sniper's chest, and lets his sorrow and pain roll out in the protecting arms of the older man.