"I wrote the greatest love ballad of the 1970's; Cat Scratch Fever."

-'Terrible' Ted Nugent

High walls and long hallways. Like a rat trapped in a maze, Angela Ziegler ran as fast as she reasonably could down the stretch of hallway. The place that she had found herself in was a warehouse, but its confining nature was due to the hundreds of sheets of plywood that had been brought into the space and connected together to create a one level, symmetrical, structure. She ran in a panic, occasionally glancing over her shoulder and eyes darting all around as she tried to remember the identical wooden walls as she fled. Her hair was tied up as normal, but her bangs, which at one point had been secured to her head with a line of bobby pins, was now slick with sweat and sticking to the set of work goggles and blocked her sight as she ran.

The panicked state of the doctor was enough to rouse suspicion, but it was debatable if it was the most interesting thing about her at the moment. Instead, what probably was the first thing the eye would notice would be her attire. Unlike a normal day around the office, she was not in a labcoat and fine dress clothes, or a pair of generic blue scrubs, but instead she was wearing normal street clothes. Firstly, she was wearing a pair of light blue jeans, a garment that the saleswoman at the department store was great for the wear and tear of the local park or grocery store and also was guaranteed to make any woman's butt look rounder. Above said jeans was what to the uncaring eye would probably declare to be the most abominable looking tie-dye shirt ever created by man, but there was more to that than met the eye.

Before a few hours earlier, the T shirt had once been a solid orange color, an extra large sized souvenir from a girls' summer retreat that Angela had attended years ago and had intended to use as a spare pair of pajamas if needed. As such, if any onlookers cared to not focus on the splotches of color all over the front, they would notice that the back and bottom of the front were still one solid color. Years had gone by, and the shirt had stayed tucked away in its owner's drawers, not seeing the light of day until now.

In the days leading up to the events taking place, Angela had retrieved the ugly spare shirt and thought that it was perfect for what she had on her agenda. After all, it wasn't everyday that Overwatch takes a break from shooting and playing soldiers to have an extracurricular activity that she was actually interested in. It just surprised her that Commanders Morrison and Reyes would allow a calm and casual therapy session for the organization. It seemed out of character for either of them to take up painting as a hobby, but she wasn't going to complain.

So, to make the right impression and give the men something to glance at, she got on a good pair of jeans, wore the throwaway shirt, and prepared for a warm summer's day of teambuilding with her coworkers.

It wasn't until she arrived that they gave her a gun and she finally learned what "Paintball" really was.

And so, with her chest feeling like it had been beaten black, blue and covered with random splotches of paint, Angela ran for dear life; pistol in hand, one shoe untied, and breasts bouncing like two pit bulls who were trying desperately escape from the confines of her shirt.

She ran, trying to put the sound of CO2 spitting projectiles as far behind her as she could, coming to intersections and only giving them a glance to see if they were safe before running for dear life. She went down a hall, going wherever her feet would take her, but before she knew it, she was standing before a wooden wall, surrounded on three sides, trapped.

She backed up a step, hesitating at the predicament she was in, mentally shouting 'Nein, nein, nein, nein!'. She turned around, preparing to retrace her steps to find another way out, but before she could take a step back, she heard the telltale sound of footsteps. The trademark clink of spurs came closer, and Blackwatch's own cowboy, Jesse McCree rounded the corner.

Trapped, Angela gave out a cry and raised her arms, one covering chest while the one holding the gun went up to protect her head. Jesse, paintball pistol still holstered, inched his way closer, finding that tormenting the Swiss doctor lady was too much fun to pass up as he said, "Reach for the sky."

She didn't respond, of course, already too terrified to comprehend what he was saying, but that didn't matter. Jesse flexed his fingers, focusing his reflexes and getting himself into a gunslinger's trance as he focused on his target. Finding an unmarked spot on her left boob, Jesse's brow furrowed as he declared for the 11th time that day, "It's high noon…" Faster than a viper's strike, he drew his sidearm and fired, not even letting it pass his hip as his instincts took over and he fired from his training and past practice with point of aim.

Then, lunging down from the rafters faster than a gunslinger at a duel, Genji Shimada appeared on the warehouse floor, landing on his feet and at the ready, himself preparing for the moment to strike. Jesse, having focused all of his senses on the good doctor's knockers, was completely blindsided when the ninja landed in front of him and –defying all laws of physics- deflected the paintball with his short sword and sent it back to its sender.

Struck clean between the eyes, Jesse took a step back from the blow, and after realizing what had happened, wiped the mark away and said, "Aw, come on. Why'd ya have to do that?"

Genji said nothing, only stood his ground and gave the American a look that could only be compared to a nasty alley cat hissing at a pedestrian that had just wandered into his territory. Eventually, Jesse turned around and walked away, moving to exit the arena until the next round started, and free of the threat, Genji eased out of his defensive pose.

Splat.

Genji looked over his shoulder, seeing a small yellow blotch of paint now decorating the back of his shoulder blade. He turned even more, and saw that Dr. Ziegler, completely unaware of what had happened moments before, was still cowering and shielding her face away from the action, but after what must have amounted to a mountain of courage to actually defend herself, had stretched out her arm and lazily aimed in the direction of where her attacker had been and fired.

Seeing her still hiding and whimpering from before, Genji gave the doctor a sigh and said, "Oh brother…"

Jokes on you, this story's not a shipfic. LAWL!