Might stop with these bold introductions, get y'all right into the chapter.
Enjoy.
Chapter 3: Money Talks
Jeremy woke up to foreign sounds that consisted of... consistent hums, and calm flutters.
He groaned and tried to rub his head... But he couldn't, for his movement was restricted by something.
His vision was blurred as well. Suddenly in confusion, he waited for his vision to fix itself. With each second that passed, the worry inside of him continued to grow.
After a few more seconds, his vision was now clear. He looked around and saw that his arms and legs were restrained on a stretcher.
Immediately, he tried shaking his way out of the tight cuffs.
"Whoever's up to this — this ain't funny! The dumbass that strapped me onto this frickin' thing is gonna get their heads stomped in, I'm tellin' ya!" He continued trying his best to shake out of the cuffs, but he was met with no success as it kept him locked, and secured in place.
"Fuck." He muttered aggressively.
He took a look at his surroundings, and he spotted his duffle bag, which was near a window, "Who the hell put it there?" He furrowed his brow at how his belongings even managed to get to... wherever he was.
He assumed that he was far ways from home base.
He looked up at the window and saw that the sky was moving very fast.
The noise that Jeremy was hearing became even more distinct to his ears.
The noise was soft. It was the type of hum an engine gave out when it powered down...
After having decent knowledge of what surrounded him, he decided to ask himself the main question in regards to the current situation he was in...
"Okay. Where the hell am I?"
He tilted his head upwards and saw a person with an intimidating rifle in his hands. He assumed it was a soldier of some sort. The emblem the soldier had on his jacket was of one he didn't recognize, certainly not belonging to the local police force, or any other 'peacekeeping' groups he had his run-in's with.
The emblem was a black circle that had yellow-coloured pincer's at the top of the circle, two lines that were almost merging in the middle of the circle.
Jeremy furrowed his brows at the new sight.
The soldier seemed to be sleeping, upright as well, which only added to the sheer confusion that Jeremy was in.
"Yo! Soldier dude!" Jeremy yelled, waking up the man immediately.
"Grr... I thought that tazer's were supposed to last at least seven hours." The soldier grumbled.
Jeremy was baffled by his words, "W-wait. What?"
He doesn't remember getting tazed...
"What do you mean, 'tazed'? Who-who did this?!" He pulled at his restraints, "I need answers, dude!"
"And I need a good nap, criminal." The soldier snarled out.
Jeremy rolled his eyes, "Pfft. Bozo."
"Shut your mouth, son, or I'll do it for you." The soldier muttered.
Considering the situation he was in, he thought that it would be unwise to test the soldier's mettle while he was restrained to a table.
"Right, my bad." Jeremy apologized insincerely.
Now that he had his attention, he had a chance for his main question to be answered, "Wait, 'fore ya nap off — mind tellin' me where I am? An-and better yet, why the hell am I cuffed to this damn table?! This feels like crap!" He complained.
The Soldier groaned, "Err, if I tell you, will you let me sleep?"
"Hundred percent. Guaranteed. No strings attached. Yes." Jeremy confirmed.
The soldier stared at him, unimpressed by his 4 repetitive answers, but regardless, told him what he wanted to know.
"So an agent of our's, Lena Oxton, or Tracer, as she's commonly referred as — kicked your ass, tazed you, and here you are — on a table, restrained, because my superior said that he had a use for you... your," he chuckled, "'Talent's'." He finger quoted, "... Now, does that answer satisfy you?"
Baffled and shocked at the information that he had received from the soldier, Jeremy couldn't help but keep his jaw ajar.
And that name...
That woman...
Tracer...
It ringed annoying memories inside of his mind, and brought confusion to his face.
"Wait... that Tracer chick — she fucking tazed me?!" Jeremy asked, in disbelief.
"Yeah — she probably got you good considering you don't even remember it." The soldier chuckled, "You probably underestimated her, and maybe that's why you're stuck on this table."
"Shut the fuck up! I was about to kill her until she..." He blinked in realization, "... Until she... fuck..."
He suddenly remembered how close she was to dying at his hands, the grip of his pistol warm, and ready — cocked and loaded, aimed to kill... and then she pulled out something small... and then...
"Fuck. She did taze me." Jeremy scoffed disappointingly, "How the hell did I allow myself to get outplayed by that fucking chick?" He pulled at his restraints in anger, "DAMN IT!"
"Just cause you got beat by a girl doesn't mean you gotta cry about it." The soldier commented.
Jeremy smirked at him, "Hah. You're so lucky I'm strapped onto this piece a' crap right now, I'd smash ya skull in for saying that."
He forgot about the current situation that he was in.
Jeremy seemed to hit a nerve of the soldier, "Listen here you bastard," he marched closer to the robber, "if you don't shut that fucking mouth up, this gun," he waved the butt of his rifle in front of him, "... is gonna fucking smack you in that little head of yours." He held a stareoff with the cocky man, daring him to try.
Jeremy wasn't afraid of soldiers, individuals with intimidating weapons... he wasn't afraid of anyone. He kept his stare steady with the soldier.
The soldier eventually gave up and smirked, "... Keep talking though, I won't mind it."
"Wasn't plannin' on it since you told me I was gonna get knocked out if I did."
The soldier backed off and returned to his wall, leaning on it.
"So... that... Tracer chick, she's with you guys?" Jeremy suddenly asked.
"Yes, now let me take my damn nap." The soldier replied, tilting his head downwards.
Jeremy sighed and decided not to press on the soldier anymore. He had already been beaten by Tracer, he didn't need anymore beatings to be embarrassed of.
He closed his eyes and awaited whatever was to happen next...
*30 minutes later*
Jeremy opened his eyes, giving out an immediate yawn.
His wrists and legs were still held down... but he seemed to be out of the stretcher, and in a chair of some sort.
It wasn't like it made a such a big difference however. He was still cuffed down, and unable to move.
Movement was essential to his survival.
He looked straight ahead and saw a monitor in front of him, and someone was behind it... Someone huge with a bad hunched back and horrible posture. The figure looked intimidating, but Jeremy really didn't care anymore — he needed to know what type of situation he got himself into.
"Hey... big fella', I can see you over there. Help a man outta these cuffs will ya?"
The man behind the monitor gasped, not expecting any disturbances, "Oh, you scared me!"
"If it's anyone who should be scared, it's me. I'm the one that's defenceless and currently strapped to a friggin' chair... Not saying that I'm scared or anything, cause it's gonna take a lot more than this to get me crappin' my pants, but... I'm just stating facts." Jeremy said, "Now, can you let me outta this goddamn chair?"
"Hmm... I'm afraid I can't do that just yet... Uh..." The voice paused, "Mr. Jeremy? Is that it?"
The voice was deep and intellectual, very clear sounding as well... if Jeremy had to guess, he guessed that voice belonged to some sort of top level professor at some top level university.
'Sounds like a damn snob to me, but how the hell does he know my name?' Jeremy thought.
He was ensured from one of his many connections, that his name would be erased from the public and his identity would be concealed from any police stations that tried to keep a track on him.
He assumed pretty quickly that this wasn't a police station he was in... the room looked too polished for a cop station. The lights were dimmed, and the windows were shut tight. Tighter than a police station would have it's windows closed.
And he was strapped onto a chair. Now granted, police stations had chairs with straps as well, but the specific chair felt... different.
Jeremy came to the assumption that this was an interrogation room.
What would he be interrogated for?
He didn't know.
This room also had monitors that he has never seen before, and that surprised him since he had been to many electronic stores. He also caught sight of the same symbol he saw back on the soldier that he had seen earlier, but this one had white lines instead of black.
After a few moments of thought, Jeremy decided to reply to the voice's question.
"Yeah. It is." Jeremy answered, "But hold on, big fella — How the hell do ya know my name?"
"I'll explain everything later, but right now, I need you to accept some terms of agreement for me."
Jeremy shook his cuffs, not seeing much of a choice but to listen to whatever the voice was going to tell him, "Well, shit, I don't have much of a choice... Do I?"
"Negatory, Jeremy. I'll be completely understanding and complying if you refuse to accept to the terms, but I'm afraid that I can't let you go from that chair until you do... but please, feel free to stay in the strapped chair for however long you want. Choice is all up to you though." The voice notified.
Jeremy groaned at the thought of being trapped in a chair for a day.
Seeing no other choice, he accepted and began to listen, "... Fine," he muttered with hesitation, "tell me what I'm agreeing to."
"Thank you. I'm going to cut straight to the chase here, Jeremy. I know you're a criminal, your database proves it and... I am also well aware of your natural acrobatic skills. Your elusiveness and agility is very interesting... In the sense that no other person has naturally developed what you have."
He scoffed at the praise he was recieving, activating his big ego, "You're damn right 'bout that. Ain't no one got sauce like me, I'm essquizitte." He said.
The voice cleared his throat, "'Ex-Kwi-Zit', Jeremy." He corrected.
Jeremy's smile disappeared and had been replaced with an unimpressed pout, "Whatever."
"Moving on, your skills could be used for something that has far more value. Instead of using it for spreading mayhem across London - where you've done most of your crime sprees' — you could instead be using it for something that is... Respected and upheld in society. Now, fortunately for you, that's what I want to talk to you about. Listen, Jeremy, you have a very, very, good chance to turn your life around right now with this simple agreement."
"What? You mean like, like... Turn my life around as in, not having to rob people anymore?"
Jeremy made a living off of robbing people and he enjoyed it a lot, pair it up with the many connections he had throughout London that made him impossible to keep track of in the criminal department, it was basically a more fun way of exercise without the risks of being caught!
He wasn't ecstatic at the idea of giving that up.
The satisfying andrenaline and the even more satisfying reward - Money.
Cash was like Jeremy's equivalent to a lover — Valuable and loved. He wouldn't want to see it be taken away.
And if cash was to ever cheat on him... then he'd just chase after more of it!
"Yes, Jeremy. You won't have to rob anyone, ever again." The voice confirmed.
It did not sound appealing, but regardless, Jeremy continued to listen, "Does that also mean I won't have to take jobs that pay very well — from crooked guys anymore?"
"By 'crooked guys', I'm assuming you mean your 'connections'?"
Jeremy rolled his eyes, "Yeah, sure, whatever ya call 'em."
"In that case, yes, you can cut them out of your life for good."
"So you're basically tellin' me... that I don't have to do anything illegal anymore, if I accept this... This 'agreement' crap?"
"I would refer from calling it 'crap', but yes, you understand it."
This was a lot for Jeremy to take in. He was being offered a chance to turn his ways around, the chance to be someone respectable in society instead of continuing with his life of sin.
Jeremy felt terrible the first time he started doing it. It wasn't out of free will, it was for the money he needed to support himself. Whenever he performed the 'rob'n'runs' of his now, he felt nothing, just another robbing for his personal well-being. It was all he thought of it.
Jeremy didn't feel like leaving his lifestyle behind, as it was reliable and supported him for 6 years, nearly 7...
"Nah. See this, I've been doing bad shit for like... A long time, and it never failed me, so-"
"What's your price?" The voice interrupted.
"Ex-excuse me?" The question caught Jeremy's attention.
"You heard me correctly, Jeremy, what's your price." The man adjusted his seating, "you want money, am I correct?"
"Y-yeah, you kinda are right about that, but like... How much... How much money are we talkin' about over 'ere?" Jeremy was now genuinely surprised, if whatever they were offering him blew him away, he'd probably accept it in a heartbeat.
"One. Million. Pounds."
"You gotta be jokin'." He instantly said, in pure disbelief of how enormous this offer was.
"Oh, but I'm not," the voice reassured, "I will say it again — One. Million. Pounds."
Jeremy whistled at the ridiculous amount as he raised a brow, "Ho-lee crap! A million?!"
The man behind the monitor chuckled heartily, "I'm not joking, Jeremy, a million pounds, I may throw in extra cash if you exceed the expectations... Now that you know, that you will be paid, let's talk about the agreement I will propose to you, and, hopefully accept."
"Damn, then get on with it!" Jeremy was listening now.
A million pounds!
"Very well. Now... by any chance, have you heard of the Omnic crisis that happened roughly twenty years ago?"
"Crap... twenty years ago? I don't know much about it, I was only like, two years old... Didn't hear much about it cause it wasn't much of a concern when I grew up." Jeremy tried to remember any mention of an Omnic crisis in his mind and remembered seeing very old newspaper article a week ago, which highlighted the defeat of the Omnics.
The picture on the front page was of a Soldier with blonde, wavy hair and a cool, dark blue trench coat.
Walking in the cities alleyways had let him see all types of old stuff — old newspapers being the most common.
"Oh, hold on, I do know that the Omnics ended up gettin' their asses kicked by some soldiers or some crap, am I right?"
"You're right... Do you know the specific name for those group of soldiers that ended the Omnic crisis and possibly saved all of England from total Omnic domination? Much less — the world, from total domination?"
"Uh... I... I don't know. Why?"
"They were called 'Overwatch'. They were once the peacemakers of humanity until..." The man exhaled angrily, "Until the incompetent government took us down..." His voice had grown somber, and even more at his deep sigh, "... Those days are long gone, the vision now obscured by false news and misguided minds. But... But not all is lost... Because I know that Overwatch can be restored back to it's full glory, and I'm already intent on making it happen... Jeremy."
"What's up?"
"Join Overwatch... Join us."
"Woah. Hold up for a minute, I don't know about it being a permanent thing-"
"It's not a permanent thing." The man groaned, "Err... Okay, let me rephrase it... We need your help... Listen, do you know that woman that almost killed you? Tracer was her codename, I do believe that you remember her?"
"How could I forget someone that I was supposed to kill myself? Of course I remember her." Jeremy's brows furrowed annoyingly at the mention of her name, "But then she pulled out that goddamn tazer..." he shook his head disappointingly, "can't believe I wasn't quick enough for that."
"Peace, Jeremy. No need for complaints as it is already in the past. Understand?"
"And who are you? Don't speak to me like you own me or something."
"The latter I will never agree with — but might I make myself known to you — I am the one that had saved your life from certain death."
"Huh... so it was you that had that deep voice behind her mic... thanks, I guess." A half-assed 'thanks' that he gave to the individual.
"I sense a lack of sincerity from you, but that is for another time, as we have more pressing matters at hand. Now, continuing on, when she was chasing you, I happened to notice the unusual speed at which you were running at, thanks to Tracer's mini-surveillance camera I installed on her goggles. There are very few people that can have a successful escape from Tracer due to her teleportation device that I implemented on her, you however, managed a very good run against her. I saw potential in you, a potential for stronger manpower added to our group for some temporary time. I saw the chance and I took it, when she had a gun to your head, I luckily managed to contact her communications quick enough before she did anything drastic-"
"She wasn't gonna do anything drastic. The damn shnuck was scared. Her fingers were shaking!" Jeremy said.
"That is of little importance, Jeremy. The bigger picture is that she had made you available to us by subduing you, and bringing you here for an offer of mine."
"I already told you, man, I'm not interested in this being permanent."
"And you don't have to worry, because it won't be permanent. We simply need some temporary, but important, help on our comeback, we need to prove our worth again to the society before we... Come back from the dead, as so to speak. It's temporary Jeremy, are you interested so far?"
"Heh, ya had me at temporary, shoot."
"Very well. As you most likely know, criminal influence is heavy in London, murder rates are senselessly going up every year, arson attacks on buildings, and basically everything that is criminal related, has gone up exponentially these past years. I had some of my undercover agents investigate and gather evidence as to... Why it has been happening so commonly throughout England, London specifically. Unfortunately for them... They've all been caught, caught in the act of trying to gather more evidence and I had to put a stop to it, cancelling the investigations completely. The criminal network is far more intelligent than I had given it credit for, and it's so very unfortunate. But, with the extensive evidence given to me, it lead to me finding out that their is in fact, a criminal mastermind... Or should I say, criminal masterminds'." He rephrased, "There are multiple people behind these statistics and the criminal network. I've only been able to find out the identities of two of the many other honchos that are behind the increase in crime rates."
The man sighed, "I've been keeping a close eye on these statistics for quite some time, but never had the manpower or resources to deal with it, most of my manpower has seemingly dissapeared without a trace when investigating, and I can only assume the worst as to what happened to those poor souls."
Jeremy assumed the worst too, "Saying they've been murdered or...?"
"I'm afraid so, Jeremy... Anyways, much of my time has been spent on planning and observing... contemplating on the correct time to recall the Overwatch members back into action. What I ask of you, Jeremy, is that you help in taking out these masterminds. I checked your database and I found that you in fact, have came into contact with one of the honchos that is still unknown to me, you've done a job for one of them... And that is invaluable information for me. My proposed plan is foolproof — someone has to get rid of the honchos. When their gone, the citizens of London will be wondering why the criminal rates have gone down, and will be wanting to support the vigilantes who have been the cause of making their lives more easier and safe in the world. That's when I announce Overwatch's return from the grave, the beacon of hope restored within people's hearts... But, ah, I'm thinking too far ahead, right now, I need to focus on the tasks at hand, and I need your help."
Jeremy just wanted the money, it really didn't matter to him what'd he be doing. As long as he was getting a reward, it was okay with him.
"Yeah, I can help, I mean, a million pounds is something worth fighting for am I right?"
"... Precise. Let's talk about what I need you to do."
The man pressed a button and the rooms lightened up, revealing many tech-savvy equipment surrounding the room he was in, "Athena, unstrap the subject in the chair please." He said.
"Athena? Who? That a chick or something?" Jeremy asked.
A dull feminine voice filled the room, "Unstrapping..." the cuffs around Jeremy's calves and wrists unstrapped.
"Thank you, Athena."
"Affirmative, Winston." The feminine voice replied.
Jeremy was in awe, a robot that had voice commands for unstrapping chairs?
Cool!
"So," Jeremy found it safe to stand up from the chair, stretching out his back, ".. ya name's Winston?"
"Mhm, now, if you would come here for a moment, right beside me please."
Jeremy moved his now free body parts and stood up from his chair, stretching out his back. "Man, you shoulda done this earlier, but I ain't complaining." He yawned, "So, what do ya need me to do again?"
"Come here, I need you to know what you'll be doing for your temporary job."
Jeremy walked over to the computer, but let out a terrified yell when he saw what was actually behind the monitor.
It was no man, nor an Omnic — but a talking gorilla.
"WOAH- WHAT THE HELL?!" He tripped backwards and landed square on his back, almost knocking over some equipment as he backed away further from the sight.
"Y-YOU CAN TALK?!" Jeremy asked, baffled and terrified at the same time, still straggling away from the gorilla.
Winston rolled his eyes at the man's reaction, "Hmph. It's 2080, and people are still surprised that gorillas are capable of communication?"
"Hey! Don't blame me for not knowing about this! I just..." Jeremy gulped, "I just... didn't know that talking animals were possible."
He took a deep breath, afraid to get anywhere near near the big, hairy, intellectual beast.
"Okay... I'm standing up now..." He stood up and slowly walked towards Winston.
The gorilla had glasses that a scientist would make use of, and a white-armoured plate that surrounded his enormous hunched body. On the back of his armour were jet packs, which he furrowed his brows at.
"What's a gorilla gotta do with a jet pack?" He asked.
"For purposed related to science, and the advancement of technology, Jeremy." Winston answered.
He then noticed a jar of peanut butter by the gorilla's side, "Peanut butter, huh? What 'sciency' stuff can you do with that?"
"Many things that are still unknown to me, but I keep it nearby as a complimentary for my bananas that I absolutely adore. But right now, I need to brief you on what you'll be doing for Overwatch."
Winston gestured at Jeremy to take a seat beside him. He clicked on the files that he had been researching on his computer. The files opened to reveal a bunch of descriptive text, pictures of run-down buildings and two pictures of what Jeremy assumed — were two of the honchos that Winston was referring to.
Winston slowly moved the cursor on one of the two pictures - the picture consisted of a man in a black trench coat, wearing a marine helmet that covered half of his face from the top. On his trench coat was an American flag that was embedded on both sides — back and front. The helmet he wore had blood splattered all over it, but behind the crimson stains, Stars and Stripes of red and blue could be seen faintly behind it.
The man in the picture would have looked like the proudest patriot that Jeremy had ever seen... If it wasn't for the blood splatters.
Winston zoomed in, "This is one of the 'masterminds' that's reportedly been behind the giant influx of senseless murder rates going up. And notice how I said 'mastermind'," he added.
"Why? How'd you say it?" Jeremy asked, unable to get to what Winston was pointing at.
"Out of all the higher ranked honchos of the criminal hierarchy — this specific one on screen may be the most.. incompetent, to put it in polite terms."
Jeremy rolled his eyes, "Jeez, can you just make it simple for the both of us and tell me that he's 'stupid'?"
"Very well, Jeremy. This individual is 'stupid', which gives you a big advantage in clearing him out of the big picture... moving on,"
The gorilla then moved onto another picture - This picture consisted a group of men that wore the same trench coat as the patriotic American in the other picture. It was like looking at mini-versions of the patriot.
"Lemme guess, that his cult, or... his lackies? Whatever ya wanna call them?"
"Correct, and correct. I don't know his real name, but for now, we'll refer to him as 'AWOL.'"
Jeremy raised his eyes, "Wait, a wall, like, 'A-wall?' or-"
Winston groaned, "Forget it. However you say it, as long as it identifies him from the rest, it's suitable."
Jeremy nodded.
"Moving on. AWOL over here is a big reason why the murder rates have gone up. His motives are currently unknown, but one piece of evidence from more recent findings that my agents have collected, is suggesting that he's intent on colonizing England as... well, American soil, and the way he intends on doing so is starting off by killing as many non-Americans he can get his hands on — which is in direct correlation with the spiked murder rates of London's citizens... It sounds shocking-"
"What the hell? Is he mental?" Jeremy asked, cutting him off in disbelief.
"I don't know... it's your job to find out though... Scratch that, it's your job to find him and hopefully take him out. Senseless murder is a terrible gesture onto society, especially with... Ridiculous motives like his. It's a mystery as to how he hasn't been arrested yet... Oh and one of my agents managed to witness him in battle and fortunately, came back alive... in one piece as well."
Winston switched to another slide. The slide consisted pictures of dangerous looking weapons that spelled out 'War' to any man that had eyes.
The gorilla pointed the cursor over the picture of a rocket launcher, "He fights with a handheld rocket launcher, and has a backup shotgun just in case people get too close to him. He also has..." Winston clicked on a picture of a bloody shovel, "A shovel with a edgy spade... Which he uses for bashing in skulls, very dangerous indeed."
Jeremy was kind of intimidated by 'AWOL' already.
What kind of man fights with a handheld rocket launcher?
The only time he had ever thought of such a concept was when he was playing video-games, but never real life!
The fact that AWOL was probably mentally unstable put him off even more. Enemies that could do the unexpected were always a tough match for him to put down.
"Dude seems mean... can you tell me how this 'A-Wall' guy isn't in jail right now?"
"Like you, he's tight with the criminal network, they look out for him and he looks out for them, clearing his name out of any of the databases they try to track him on. He also has a group that's dedicated to his same motives, whatever it may be, the group is willing to give up their lives to protect 'AWOL' from death."
Jeremy was tight with the criminal network as well. He spent 6 years of his life working with the various underground groups, but he couldn't recall seeing AWOL' anywhere amongst them.
"Y'know, it's kinda weird that I've never seen 'em around the streets before, considering how over the radar this guy is." Jeremy commented.
"You will soon though, as we need him gone and eliminated from the picture... Moving on," Winston closed the files and switched onto the picture of the next individual.
"Umm, this... Thing, may disturb you a little..." The gorilla nervously clicked on the picture with its big fingers.
The picture that appeared consisted of nuildings that have been burned to crisps. In the background was a figure that was surrounded by shadowing flames, holding something above it's head with triumph.
"Whoever took this picture had some big friggin' balls." Jeremy commented, "I mean, I dunno' anyone that would wanna get close to someone that looks like he was made from the damn flame... except me of course, cause I ain't afraid of nothin'."
"I hope that confidence will carry on with you at the appropriate time. Anyways, this picture is insignificant to the ones I have next of the figure," Winston clicked on the next slide, which revealed the intimidating figure up close.
"Oh crap. That don't even look like it's human." Jeremy commented.
The figure had a yellowish-green tint to its hazmat suit, which was thick and padded with its exterior material. On its hazmat suit were burn marks that had been scattered all around, some faded, and most — recent. It wore a black gas mask of some sort, the mask reached down to fully cover it's neck with polished darkness.
On the back of the hazmat suit, there were two huge canisters of what could only be assumed was ammo for it's weapon.
Speaking of it's weapon — It wielded a homemade flamethrower. The nozzle of the torch was lit with blue flames, which was hotter than the normal orange variant. The flamer looked rusted beyond repair, but regardless, it looked like it was working properly.
"... doesn't look like a nice guy, that's for sure." Jeremy looked at its mask, "I'm curious. Anyone of your photo-takers seen what's behind that mask?"
"No, no one has," Winston answered, "and I'm almost certain that no individual would lack the intellect to try something that would result in death." He added.
Jeremy smirked and raised a brow, "Think again, big guy, cause you're lookin' at him." He pointed at himself proudly.
The gorilla contained his chuckle and shook his head at the criminal's bravado, "Again, I hope that your confidence speaks for itself when the time comes," he said, "Anyways, let me give you a debrief on this... thing."
Another set of pictures popped up on the screen, consisting of various areas that had been lit up by flames that could devour.
"The criminal that are the main reasons for these pictures is unsurprisingly — the main source of arson attacks throughout London. As strange as it may sound, it has no clear motive to whatever it applies its flames too. It tends to wander a lot as well, and whatever comes in its path has a high chance of being senselessy roasted — whether it be human, or flying garbage."
"Pause for a minute," Jeremy requested, "but did I hear you right?"
"Hear what right?"
"That flame-loving thing just roams around — looking for its next barbecue?!"
Winston nodded, "Local police force have tried to stop it as of recently, but have only been met with... well," he glanced at the pictures on screen, needing no explanation for how futile the police force was against a...
A flame-wielding maniac.
"Right... cops can't deal with this thing." Jeremy understood that the regular police force couldn't do anything against this walking arson.
Winston continued with his debrief, "Moving onto the actual arson attacks... it seems to do this randomly — anywhere, anytime. My investigators theorized that it might have something to do with the weather being too cold for it's well-being and, desperate on a way to get warmer, it decided to make flames out of the populace... But luckily..."
Winston paused, and showed the next set of slides. It was pictures of firefighters and citizens standing around buildings that have been put out with water, "the department's firefighters have managed to clear out the affected areas of arson effectively. Good thing it doesn't stick to one place. Onto the next piece of info, these arson attacks were recent, and quite honestly, weren't expected by anyone. As you can see in the pictures, the damage had already been dealt in a short span of time, and as I said earlier — the motives are unknown. Seems to commit arson on will, for itself, and no one else..." The gorilla shifted his glance to Jeremy, "... that's when you come into play."
The criminal gulped at the task, "Uhh, taking care of it, you mean. Right?" He asked.
"Hmm... you don't exactly sound confident. What happened, Jeremy?"
"What?!" Jeremy asked, baffled. He immediately refilled his bravado, catching his natural swagger back into act, "Of course I'm confident! I'll make sure that thing gets a closed casket in the ugly cemetery, know what I'm sayin'?"
"Mhm, indeed I do."
"Besides, money speaks for itself — and right now, I can hear it..." he put a hand to the side of his ear, as if money was actually an entity that could speak to him.
"Oh... what? What's that, Mr. Green?" His eyes widened, "YOU WANT ME TO GET THAT MONEY?! OKAY THEN!"
He then looked back at a confused Winston, "See? I told ya money talks." He smiled with confidence.
Meanwhile, Winston was trying to recall if Jeremy had any traits that were related to schizophrenia... He couldn't remember.
"Okay... Be right back." Winston departed from his chair and walked on his four limbs to some file cabinets that were nearby.
Jeremy watched on in slight terror. Seeing the massive muscles beneath the gorilla's wrists, as he could just imagine the sheer strength of it trapping him in this small room. He believed he could outmaneuver the gorilla, but for how long?
As Winston opened the cabinets, he suddenly pulled out a device. It was a smartphone, but smarter. On the back of the device was the same symbol that he had caught sight of two times earlier.
"Hey, Winston?"
"Hm?"
"What's that symbol supposed to mean?" Jeremy pointed at the back of the device, "Looks really frickin' cool by the way." He added.
"Glad you think so. This is the symbol of 'Overwatch' — A symbol that people will start to respect and look up to once you're done with your mission."
"Well, to whoever designed that logo, tell them to start making some comics. Their drawings could probably make me get back into reading those type of books."
"Comics?" Winston raised a brow, "I prefer atlases and books filled with facts and oddities."
Jeremy imitated a man vomiting, "Bleh! You sound like a teacher! A high-school teacher, actually... screw high-school."
"Why? High School is an important journey for maturing teenagers."
"High School ain't nothin' but trouble. It's meant for frickin' snobs who end up slaving their life at a job they fucking hate." Jeremy said, his facial features considerably lowered, glaring at a wall with hate in his eyes...
Instantly, Winston knew that the topic of High School had triggered something within Jeremy that caused him to become irritated.
The conversation was heading down an undesirable turn, and Winston steered away from it — quickly changing the topic.
"Enough chat, you have a job to do." Winston gestured Jeremy to stand up from his chair.
Jeremy shook himself out of the terrible flashback that he was about to experience, "... True, I can hear the money callin' my name anyways." He stood up from his chair.
"Take this device." Winston held the smartphone in front of Jeremy, gesturing at him to take it.
He took the smartphone from Winston's hairy hands, feeling the thin strands of his animal hair wind against his smooth fingers, "Just to let ya know, I already have a smartphone at home, so-"
"Incompetent compared to the one I just gave you." Winston interrupted.
His brow dipped, "What?"
"The software and hardware are further advanced than the widely produced ones. Anyways, this is the device that you will use to report anything of valuable information to me. Turn it on."
Since Jeremy had a smartphone already, he knew how to turn it on, his smartphone kind of similar to the one provided to him. "Is it touch based, or some crap like that?"
"Yes, place your finger on the button and it will automatically unlock whenever-"
"Yeah yeah, I know how smartphones work." Jeremy cut him off and placed his finger over the button.
The phone switched view to the home screen, where 4 apps were present.
The home screen was terribly bland. A plain black background layered behind the apps themselves. Jeremy was not liking the smartphone so far, "Winston... damn, why is this phone so boring?"
"Hm? I'm afraid I don't understand your concern, care to elaborate?" The gorilla asked.
"Ah- forget it." Jeremy examined the smartphone even further.
The 4 apps were all on the home screen.
There was a camera app, a messaging app, a calling app, and probably the most important for Jeremy, the app which allowed access to the internet, and his various criminal connections.
He swiped left and right on the main screen to see if there were anymore apps on the device, but the screen didn't nudge, only staying on one screen with the four apps.
Only one app was seeming to be essential to him.
"This is not to be used irresponsibly, Jeremy. Only use it when needed, like collecting evidence and information that will prove useful for the endavours of Overwatch. Only use the camera app for taking pictures or videos of anything that I should be aware of. Use the messaging app to-"
"OKAY, I GET IT. Damn, I ain't stupid."
"Apologies. Let me tell you though, the browser app works bit differently from other smartphones."
"Don't sweat it, Winston. As long as I can watch porn and ViewTube — then it don't matter how it work."
The gorilla rolled his eyes at the criminal's explicit hobby, "... that wasn't necessary to know, Jeremy... but, moving on... may you open the browser app?"
Jeremy tapped on the virtual app, and a blank page with a search bar appeared, "Cool. It's a homepage. That all you had to show me?"
"Jeremy. Patience. Please practice it." Winston requested.
He only smirked in response.
"... I have bookmarked a page that's only visible to this device. To access it, tap on the side-feature with the three lines."
He tapped on the feature, and a multitude of options appeared for him. Options such as 'History', 'Tab Manager' and 'Bookmarks'. There were many unorthodox labels that caught his eye, but one especially stood out to him...
'Change Network'.
His mouth dropped slightly, "Holy crap, Winston. This phone can switch networks?"
"Yes. But do be careful to not switch to the... graphic ones." Winston warned.
"Hey, I ain't scared of no networks, cause I been there already."
"Very well. Moving on though, in the bookmarks tab, there is a site that tracks any criminal activity throughout London, and London specifically. For example, if 'AWOL' was to go down, once the news would report it, the website would automatically update, scanning for a picture or a video clip of the criminal dead, or either apprehended. I think that covers everything so far." Winston finished.
"Cool."
Jeremy looked way too 'laxed and laid back for Winston's likings. As the gorilla examined his calm grin, he could not help but think that Jeremy's mind was on... websites... inappropriate websites.
"Jeremy..."
"'Sup?"
"... Use the Internet wisely please."
"Pfffft! Whaddya mean, Winston! I. Am so responsible when it comes to using the internet, you don't even know!" Jeremy reassured.
Winston didn't buy it. He continued to hold an unimpressed stareoff with the criminal.
Jeremy sighed as his stance lowered, "... ugh. Okay, fine. No porn, or... booty-shaking videos on the history feed. There? Happy?"
Winston smiled, "Very. Glad you could confirm it. You can put it in your pockets now."
Jeremy nodded and slid the device inside, "What next?"
"Now, you decide which of these dangerous individuals you want to take down first." Winston answered.
Without hesitation, Jeremy answered, 'A-Wall'.
"Good... now for the next part..."
Winston slightly paused his sentence, as if he was hesitant to reveal the next part.
Jeremy furrowed a brow, "... well? What's the next part to my money-making scheme?"
"... oh. I'll have to pair you up with someone to accompany you on the majority of the missions I'll be sending you out on."
"Oh, easy. Just make sure it ain't that frickin' short-haired chick and I'll be as happy as a deadbeat dad."
Winston didn't reply, causing suspicion to stir within Jeremy.
"Uhh... earth to Winston?" He snapped a finger, "Did ya hear me? Don't pair me up with her. I really don't like her."
The woman he was referring to was undoubtedly Tracer — the woman who had outpaced him when it came to situational thinking.
He did not like Tracer.
She outdone him.
She was a coward.
She had no real skill.
She got him into this mess.
She has an irritating voice.
She has hair that is equivalent to a warped bush.
She had an accent that he just wanted to throw into the pits of-
He did not like Tracer.
But it was unknown whether it was pure hate for all of the reasons, except 1 reason — she had successfully outdone him.
His ego took a huge toll when she held the pistol to his face. For the first time in a long time, he felt humbled in that very moment. To be bested by another person and to know what true defeat is... That rarely happened to him, and the only people that managed to best him in something he was good at was...
No one.
Tracer was the first person to beat him at something he was good at... A chase. A competition for who was better at skill — specifically, speed and quickness.
Regardless of equipment or technology, his skills proved to be no match for Tracer's.
It irritated him to the point where it was like an annoying plague in his mind.
Meanwhile, Winston still had yet to reply to the criminal's plea.
With a sigh that was anxious, Jeremy decided to move forward, "... I'm guessing ya heard me."
Winston nodded, "Mhm. We have to get you back to London, so you can continue on with your mission."
Winston went in a sub-room to Jeremy's left, the sliding doors opening at The gorilla's presence, "Come, your confiscated items are kept in the corner of this room, and try not to pull any weapons out until you reach London, the soldiers at this Watchpoint are on high alert — especially to individuals like you, so keep that in mind when your fingers feel tempted to grip murder. Gather your equipment and I'll walk you to the Dropship that'll be taking you back to London."
Jeremy almost forgot about his duffle bag.
The sudden blast of information had his mind blocked. He hoped everything was still where it was, especially the pictures of his Mother.
"Fine. This'll just take a minute." He notified.
Winston nodded in return and allowed him to enter the small room. He saw his duffel bag in the corner and unzipped it.
Though he should've expected it to happen — he was shocked that his stolen goods were removed from the bag, "Damn! All my money's gone... but what else can I expect from an annoying 'goodie two-shoes' like Tracer?" He huffed an irritated exhale and continued rummaging through his bag.
He would be beyond pissed if Tracer took any of his personal belongings away from him. It would just give him more of a reason to place hate towards her.
He rummaged the side pockets of the duffel bag to see that everything was still in place, the photos and notes, his weapons, his whacky soda cans — nothing seemed to be touched by her.
He zipped the duffel bag and strapped it onto his back, "Alright, I'm ready."
"Wait, I almost forgot. Come to the monitor." Winston opened the monitor again and opened a program of some sort, the program was a picture of a huge dollar sign, something that Jeremy had grown fond of.
The gorilla then clicked on a button that said 'BANK'...
A very attractive number was shown on screen...
It was 20 times cuter than the cutest girl that Jeremy had ever seen...
It was 20 times mesmerizing than the actual dollar sign itself...
It was over 20 times his total earnings...
Jeremy was in awe...
$ 75'000'000
Jeremy picked his jaw off the ground, seemingly unable to contain his stutters, "I-I... Th-Th-THAT?!" He pointed at the number, jittery from the wet thoughts inside of his mind that included seas of green.
Winston nodded, "Mhm."
"W-wow... That's... that's a lot of goddamn money..."
"It would've been close to the numbers of ten billion if I didn't spend it on equipment and re-arming the forces of Overwatch... The main point of me showing you this, is that I promise a huge reward for you if you manage to do this for Overwatch. No dirty lies here Jeremy, all truth."
"You had me earlier. Now you have me. Don't worry, Winston — I will get that money if it's the last thing I do."
"Good. Follow me."
x
Winston and Jeremy finally walked out the doors of the dim room. It was dawn, and the the sun shone proudly on the cliffs that surrounded the Watchpoint.
The first thing that Jeremy saw however, were the many soldiers equipped with rifles that he hadn't seen during his time in London. The majority of the soldiers were stationed up top on the structures, and thanks to his pristine vision, he could see that the soldiers without helmets were giving him questionable glances, others gave him dirty looks.
He felt like a stranger among the sight of these good-hearted soldiers.
"What you see right now, Jeremy — is only the beginning. As time goes on, I will recall former Overwatch agents to this Watchpoint, and from there on, we'll fight the good fight..." Winston gave him a side glance, you're a part of something special now, Jeremy. Believe me."
Jeremy only nodded in response, not too concerned for the endavours of Overwatch.
As they continued to walk, Jeremy decided to ask a question.
"Mind if I ask you a question?"
"Go ahead."
"Why did you... y'know, tell her not to kill me?" Jeremy asked, "I-I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm thankful you did that, but... it just don't make a lotta' sense." He added, grateful for the second chance.
Winston smiled, "... want to know why?"
"Obviously, why would I be asking then?"
"It's because... I believe in redemption. The opportunity, whether it was a blasted plan from the start, was filled with potential and change." Winston said.
Jeremy didn't understand how the sentence referred to him, "Redemption? What am I redeeming myself for? And what do you mean by 'change'?"
"Redemption for your past — not saying that you must believe in it, but it is undoubtedly what you are working towards to as I send you on these missions." Winston explained, "You see... humans are given a choice when they commit their first crime, whether it be thievery or assault, they have choices. They have the choice to continue, and work towards more crime, or, they have a choice to redeem themselves for it, by doing good deeds unto humanity. Doesn't have to be major-scale, for the honest gesture of doing 'good' has a profound effect on themselves and those around them."
Jeremy sighed, "I don't get any of what you're saying."
"But you will, when the time comes. As for 'change'... well, similar to redemption, these missions will change you, Jeremy." Winston said, "... For the good, most likely." He added.
The pair continued walking towards the landing pad, where a dropship was awaiting Jeremy, "... It may only be temporary, but you're doing a good thing, helping Overwatch out. It's what heroes do."
Jeremy instantly cringed at the 'H' word, "Ehh... I ain't a hero at all, Winston... and honestly, I don't even feel right saying the damn word. 'Dunno what it is that makes me feel that way, but that's just me, I guess."
Winston chuckled lightly, "Maybe as time goes on, you'll realize what it is that you're feeling."
"Yeah, probably."
The pair reached a landing pad that parked one of the many airships that seemed to be scattered around the Watchpoint.
Winston briefed the Overwatch pilot on where to drop off Jeremy for his first mission, and walked back to him.
"Sit down in the passenger's seat, and the pilot will fly you to your location."
Jeremy opened the passenger's door and took a seat, glancing at the pilot.
The pilot started up the soft, humming engine, but before it fully started, Jeremy tried to take in the situation at hand, recalling his thoughts, what he had seen, and what just happened in the span of, what he assumed — 5 to 6 hours.
He was working for 'Overwatch' now.
They (Winston) promised a mass reward of money if his missions were to be successfully completed.
A talking gorilla communicated with him.
He definitely hated Tracer.
Tracer was responsible for all of this.
Winston mentioned he would be paired up with another operative during the string of missions...
But he didn't know who his partner was going to be.
Jeremy took a breath and rubbed his temple, preparing for the ride.
"Awright, let's get to London, ya airhead!" The pilot said.
The pilot's enthusiasm failed to garner a reaction from Jeremy. Not wanting to be rude, he decided to at least say something back to the man.
"Sorry, I'm just tired... as weird as that sounds, cause I usually ain't." He let out a sudden yawn, "... sorry 'bout that."
"No worries. You look like you need the nap, so go ahead and take it."
"Thanks, I'll get to it..." Jeremy closed his eyes and laid his head back onto the seat, his tensed shoulders finally getting a chance to relax as he fell into a quick nap...
x
*Back at Watchpoint Gibraltar*
Winston turned his super computer back on, deciding to contact one of his beloved friends.
He waited for her to pick up.
Almost instantly, the woman answered.
"'Ello?" A heavily British accent spoke.
"Hi, Lena. It's Winston."
"Winston! What's the news today love?" Lena said, almost squealing her beloved gorilla's name.
"I'm tasking one of our new agents with taking down one of the criminal 'masterminds'. Codename: 'AWOL', if you remember."
"Him? The bloke who's trying to merge America with gorgeous London?"
"Precisely." Winston confirmed.
"Oh, barmy. Hopefully you chose the right person for the job." Lena said.
Instantly, the curious side of her sprang into play, "With that being said, love — who is it?" She asked.
"Jeremy. The criminal who I asked of you to detain last night."
Time seemed to slow down for Lena as soon as Winston mentioned him. As if on cue, flashbacks of last night's encounter with him played in her mind - the parts that she didn't want to remember, at least... though not the whole encounter.
"Sod off, Winston... you're doing this because he's expendable, right?" She asked, in disbelief that he actually genuinely believed in Jeremy succeeding in taking down 'AWOL'.
"No. Quite the opposite actually. I'm doing this because I believe that Jeremy can pull it off - the elimination of a maniac, and mass criminal."
"Pfft, please, Winston. I doubt that he's gonna hold true to his goal. He's a criminal scum that lives off of deceit and whatnot. Who's to say that he might even take arms with his criminal buddies that spread rampage through the city, huh?" She complained.
"Oh trust me, Lena. Criminals are attracted to money, and the same applies with Jeremy." Winston said.
"... then you must've promised him a heavy reward." She assumed.
"And you're correct! With each of the mass criminals he manages to take out, his reward only increases."
"So, he's not doing this for the good of his heart... as if he has any... He's just doing this because there's money involved."
"More or less, but yes." Winston confirmed.
Lena rolled her eyes, "Hmph. Criminals. The lot of them — all buggers that'll do anything for money. Such scum!"
"While Jeremy may prove to be equivalent to what you have just said, there is always the chance that he'll change for the better, and he's doing Overwatch a good favour by ridding London of these criminals."
She sighed, annoyingly agreeing to his statement, "Yeah, I suppose that is true. But criminals are criminals, no matter how much they change, and I can't see Jeremy redeeming himself in a matter of just a couple of missions."
"You lack faith, Lena. It's the bias you have towards him that is making you say such things." He said.
"I don't care. To me, he'll forever be nothing but scum and trouble." Lena concluded, "Anyways, what else did you want to call me about?"
"I was just about to get to that," he said, "I'm placing you alongside Jeremy as a partner, and somewhat of a mentor on the strings of missions he'll be participating in."
Lena's heart beat spiked.
"WHAT?! YOU CAN'T DO THAT, WINSTON!" Lena complained. Her face was already steaming... her cheeks were fiery.
"Lena, I know very well about the grudge that you hold with Jeremy, but there is undoubtedly a set of skills that you two have in common with each other, and operatives that compliment each other work well on any mission." Winston explained.
"Winston! HE TRIED TO KILL ME, and you're going to suggest me going with him is a good idea?! Are you bonkers?!"
"No, I am not 'bonkers', I'm being honest, and faithful."
"Ugh! Those two principles are gonna get me killed! I don't wanna work with him!" She begged.
"Lena, we have next to zero individuals that are willing to participate in these daunting tasks, and what's even worse is that it's the most important at hand. The addition of having Jeremy — an experienced specimen that has been gifted with inhuman speed and reflexes — being on Overwatch's side for now, is invaluable. But not quite enough-"
"And you want me to fill in the other half that the missions require? Is that it?" Lena asked, finishing for him.
"Yes, and to also be a mentor and a role model that'll help Jeremy change for the better. And remember — this is for the good of Overwatch." Winston finished.
Lena sighed loudly over the phone and contemplated the choice that would have to be made.
After some time, she made her choice.
"... fine. I'll tag along with him," she agreed, "BUT, I'm doing this for Overwatch, not him... I'd never do anything for that bloody git." She added.
Winston let out a sigh of relief, "Thank you, Lena. You have my gratitude for what you agreed to."
Lena smiled, "Hmph! You better! My life is basically in your hands, Winston. Putting me beside a damn murderer," she sighed, "... but no fret! I got him once, and I can do it again if need be."
"I am positive you can manage, Lena. Now, let me send you the co-ordinates on where you're going to be meeting him."
"Send away. I'll sync it to my goggles when its time for me to leave."
Winston began to send the co-ordinates for Jeremy's drop off towards Lena's device.
"Annnd... there." A distinct *beep* was heard in the background, "Sent it just now... have it?" Winston asked.
Lena's smartphone vibrated, giving her dresser a small shake. Without looking, she confirmed it, "Yep. I have it. By the way, how long is it gonna take for this pansy to arrive?"
Winston chuckled, "Approximately... two to three hours from now."
"Got it. Thanks, Winston. I'll try to contain myself around him. But if he tries anything — do I have permission to blast him?" Lena asked.
"Yes, but only if it's serious... I don't want you shooting him just because he called your abdomen... 'Unproportianate '."
She furrowed a brow, "Fat, you mean?"
"Yes."
She giggled, "Winston, buddy — if he dares call me 'fat', I will kick his arse back to Gibraltar!"
Winston let out a hearty chuckle at the good-fashioned humour she had, "I'll be waiting right here for him if such a situation happens. But for now, get your equipment ready. You and him are going to be on a mission for the day. Winston out."
"Affirmative. Tracer out!" Lena turned off her communications, and rubbed her temples at how the day was looking for her so far.
"Bloody hell. Now isn't this the prickly situation I'm in? Bloke almost kills me, then the next day I'm forced to work with him..." she suddenly realized that she wasn't forced at all to work with him. In fact, she had a choice whether or not to take the position as his partner, but she didn't choose it.
She willingly agreed to be his partner on the string of missions.
She groaned and put a palm to her face, "Ugh. I had a choice and I still decided to go through with it... whatever, I'm doing this for Overwatch, not for that damn scum of a man."
But something inside of her called her bluff. Called bullshit on her claim to just be 'doing this for Overwatch'.
No.
There was something more to this situation at hand, and it annoyed Lena to her bones at not knowing what was making her claim wrong.
Could it be that she was secretly doing this for Jeremy as well! The criminal who tried to kill her? She hoped not.
As her mind explored the thought, a mental image of his fearless grin etched into her head, as well as some other mundane memories, such as his above average facial features, his pearly whites, his jaw...
the glazed, oceanic colour of his eyes...
Lena rolled her eyes and forced herself to stop thinking about him, "I have a damn criminal to look after now," she shook her head, "oh, Winston. What did you task me with this time?"
She walked over to her smartphone and took her goggles out the drawer. She grabbed the synchronization wire and plugged it into the ports of both the phone, and her goggles. Prompting her which files to choose on the screen of her phone, she tapped on the files that Winston had sent her, which were named, 'Co-ordinates for partner'.
The wire suddenly glowed a faint blue, and not 3 seconds later, the co-ordinates were successfully synced with her goggles.
"Great, now that that's done, I have to get myself ready, isn't that right, love?"
She was silent for a while.
"... oh, silly me. I live by myself," she shook her head at her stupidity, "maybe I should have my own personal A.I. to speak to, just like Winston has." She said, but quickly rejecting the thought of actually speaking to an electronic.
"Sod it. I'd rather speak to a human than steel and metal... well, time to get dressed." She said to herself.
Loneliness and Lena didn't cope well...
And Lena didn't want to find out how in the world she would cope with Jeremy — the scum of her day.
