After being kidnapped, bound, and taken away, all Fareeha knew came through her ears, hearing the various grumblings of different Junkers as she was moved into one vehicle, driven a distance, switched to another, and now on along a few more miles. Separated from her backpack, which offered her only true means of escape, she also knew that, in her blindness, she very well could also be separated from Mei, which was a strong possibility. Instructed to be silent, she figured that Mei would have been the last person to adhere to such things- and besides, better for the Junkers to separate the two than allow a team to think up any means of escape.

Sitting in the bed of a truck, she felt the wrong end of an assault rifle tapping into her shoulder whenever the truck bounced over a rock or something, only infuriating her even more; she would have hated to die to somebody stupid enough to discharge a gun due to such a shock.

Ordered into silence, and partially stubbornly forcing herself into such a silence, Fareeha simply held her head down for the majority of the truck, raising it slightly, only as the two Junkers in the truckbed with her began to speak to one another.

"'ey, Charlie," the one beside her muttered, almost giggling, "t'ey never send much o' anythin' our way! T'ink Olivah will let 's mess around with th's one, eh?"

Fareeha felt the barrel, again, as the opposite Junker replied in an old, grumbly voice, "We only answer to th' master. Don't let yer young mind get the bettah of you; even now, she could easily break free 'n cripple ya."

The young one turned to her, frighteningly, as Fareeha grinned slightly, the older Junker laughing aloud, "See? Told ya."

As if feeling the need to assert his authority, the younger one shakenly jammed the gun into Fareeha's arm, his voice almost squeaking, "D-D-Don't try anythin' funny, ya hear?!"

Fareeha lifted her head, her voice finally breaking through, "No offense, but I feel safer with you holding the gun."

As though able to feel the old man grinning, Fareeha listened hopefully, though the older man only replied, "I got mah own gun, thank you. I'll keep it trained on 'im, I s'pose. Master Olivah has been very clear- any new lifeforms are t' be brought in alive. He wants ta know why yer on our turf 'n all that rukus."

Fareeha's head remained up, but in a split second, she spun it toward her nearest captor, jumping a bit as she screamed, "BOO!"

He instantly fell backward into the bed of the truck, scrambling for his gun as Fareeha began chuckling under her breath, grinning widely, interrupted only by the older voice, "If ya could see 'im, you wouldn't be teasin' 'im."

Taken aback, Fareeha quieted herself amidst the rumbling of the ground beneath the truck. The bouncing felt more industrial and rhythmic, almost as if they were driving over speed bumps or something similar. She began hearing voices around her, her head lowering as she figured they'd entered a Junker settlement of some sort, headed by this 'Oliver' guy. She closed her eyes under the blindfold, trying her best to hear for any telltale sounds, though it was thwarted by a loudspeaker blaring across the area.

"Welcome, Member of Overwatch," came a very monotonous voice, "Please prepare for the treatment we've come to expect of those who encroach upon our territ'ry."

"Ovuhwatch, eh?" came the old man again, beginning to chuckle to himself, "Olivah's gonna have a time runnin' you down. Ha ha!"

Fareeha twisted her lips, angrily, as the truck moved into a garage of some sort, evidenced by the sudden lack of heat and sunlight through the cloth bandana covering her face. As the truck came to a stop, she slowly spun her head around, trying to catch something within earshot, though in a sudden instant, a massive blast met her chest, knocking her clear off the truck, falling with a thud onto the ground, leaving her gasping for air.

"Yea! That's what y'u git!" shouted the younger Junker from above before he hopped off.

Fareeha rolled around, trying to find relief, but was hurriedly grasped by her two arms and lifted up, being dragged along, backwards. She tried her best to control her breathing, but found it difficult in this statement, and as the two captors threw her into a chair, it didn't help much.

Breathing deeply, one of the two hurriedly handcuffed her to the arm of the chair before the second one ripped the blindfold off of her, forcing Fareeha to quickly shut her eyes from even the lack of light in this place. As her head swung back and forth off her shoulders, her breathing began to subside and her eyes slowly opened, seeing the dirt beneath her feet.

"Overwatch," came a foreign, serious voice, "You guys must have some serious… Eh, what do they say, uh… 'Balls', right? You guys must have some serious balls coming back to this place. What, you got too bored with your pathetic squabbles over robots and all that shit?"

Fareeha struggled to lift her head, but as she saw the man who'd spoken, she could instantly tell that this was the man who'd been referred to as, both, 'Oliver' and 'Master'. She couldn't meet his eyes, but just by his dress and his manner of speech, she knew he was of some importance.

"N-No," Fareeha managed to speak, her body suddenly forced into a cough as she expelled some of the dirt that had gotten into her lungs, "We're trying to help you."

"Ha!" Oliver's body shook only a second before returning to his still posture, "Help us? That's rich. Gregory!"

At the sound of his name, a young, almost teenaged Junker can running over toward Oliver, nearly stumbling over his own feet as he ran, his legs were so abnormally shaped, "Y-Yes, Master!"

Fareeha recognized the voice, but before she could look up at him, Oliver had grabbed the teenager's neck and forcefully pushed him in Fareeha's direction, causing the boy to fall just in front of her.

"WHERE WAS HIS HELP?!" Oliver shouted, his voice echoing throughout the cavernous piece of rock they were under.

Fareeha's eyes met Gregory's, who'd begun to tremble under her sight, the teen hurrying backward before doing his best to return to his feet, an older man helping him up and holding him. Oliver took a few steps toward the rickety chair that Fareeha sat in, quickly reached behind her head and grabbing a tuft of her hair before ripping it down, forcing her face upward to face him.

"A little late, I think," he spoke in a cold voice that reminded Fareeha so easily of Gabriel's voice on that deadly night of hers, "So, I apologize if I don't seem too welcoming to your sort of ilk. I apologize if I'm not, uh, 'thrilled' to see our turn at help, what, after YEARS of waiting!"

He threw her head back down, his arms trembling with rage as he shook, almost unable to come up with speech in his fury, "You- You all, just… Tell me why some…machines are more important than that boy, there. Hm? Tell me why I have had to watch baby after baby, born, without an arm. without a leg."

His vibrating body coming to a stop, Oliver knelt down in front of Fareeha, grasping her knee with his hand, squeezing as hard as his teeth seethed, "Have you ever watched a baby die, because it had no lungs? because it had no heart? You just stand there; you feel terrible, but when you see it, so much, day in, day out, day in,

"DAY OUT!" he shouted, shaking Fareeha's knee violently before standing up, covering his mouth with his hand as he bit down on his palm, trying to hold back tears, making sure he didn't turn back toward his men.

Fareeha had no idea where to begin, though the obvious thing was a quiet, "I'm so-"

"SORRY?!" Oliver cried out, pitifully, "Sorry?! Sorries won't give me back my wife. my daughter, and son. Sorries won't give our homes back. Sorries won't just take away your people's absolute, total ignorance of this massive speck on the-"

"You know what?" Fareeha suddenly shot back, her own blood beginning to boil, "You know why nobody showed any sort of- It's because you brought this on yourselves; who the fuck told you to go in and blow up a nuclear reactor? No wonder this place is in shit shape!"

Oliver grinned as she went on, "Can we change the past? Of course not, but what we're trying to do is change your future, and how can we do that if, at every step, we find ourselves in danger of this shit?"

The man unceremoniously tilted his head, shrugging, "You have a lot more people than me to convince, woman. A lot of people here, myself included, won't take easily to empty promises."

Oliver turned, but quickly stopped, raising a finger as he slowly turned back toward Fareeha, laughing, "Oh, I get it. You heard of ol' Junkrat's treasure, eh? That's what you're up to!"

Amidst a few chuckles and laughs from around her, Fareeha insisted, "I don't even know who 'Junkrat' is."

Oliver continued laughing as he began to walk away, following another man over toward a work table. Fareeha only watched for a moment before helplessly lowering her head again, sighing lowly to herself. She knew that, without reports, support would be sent within two days, but that was still far too long in this environment, not counting the time finding her and, god forbid, Mei, wherever the hell she was.

Lost in the thoughts of Angela, Fareeha suddenly perked up as she heard a light laughter from the other side of the cavern, a Junker happily goading along another, "'ey, chap; it's a pretty littl' coat ya got there. Just in time fer summer, eh!"

The two began laughing, unaware of the angry stare of Fareeha watching them, almost predatorily, at the sight of them fooling around with that coat. One of them threw it around their shoulders, mockingly wearing it before simply tossing it away onto the dirt at their feet.

In a split second, Fareeha jumped up, catching one of her two captor's off-guard as he spun around, her fist instantly meeting him square in the face, almost sending him flying as she angrily yelled out, her opposite arm following along, still chained to the chair.

Just as quickly, however, the second guard had jumped her, along with some other Junkers who'd simply been lazing around, holding her back against a nearby wall. Oliver quickly took notice, but as if not taking her seriously, simply smiled as he walked in her direction, clapping his hands.

"They certainly make them feisty these days," he noted, coyly, "If only you had that fight when it was needed. Now it's simply an annoyance."

Fareeha's eyes angrily met his, though quickly flickered behind him, seeing some Junker tinkering with her backpack, quickly returning to Oliver so as to not tip him off, his voice as calm as ever, "You know, woman, I'd consider my conduct thus far to be rather accommodating, all things considered. Truly, and I say this as a rather moral man, you do not wish to get on my bad side."

"Well," he corrected with a smirk, "Any more on my bad side that you and your compadres already are."

Fareeha grimaced, quietly pursing her lips as she let lose with a very shrill whistle. Suddenly, the backpack atop the work station exploded, knocking the Junker to the ground as the Raptora suddenly appeared, more so in a cube though, quickly expanding, sequentially, into its various ligaments, tearing through the measly desk before finishing its reconstruction upon the ground.

Oliver had peered across his shoulder, amusedly, "Neat trick. but like my other opinions on you, you'll need a lot more than simple tricks to convince me of anything else."

Grinning, Fareeha shot back, "Don't worry; I know what you people understand."

In an even quicker moment, the various compartments of the Raptora shot open, revealing a massive arsenal of missiles, all honed in different directions of the cavern, leaving Fareeha to comment, "Let me go or I'll blown this fucking place up."

Staring at the dark-colored armor, Oliver sighed as if forfeiting a game of marbles, "Just as I was enjoying myself. Boys?"

Reluctantly, the few Junkers who'd held her to the wall slowly began to release themselves, leaving Fareeha to grab her shoulder as she rotated her arm, staring smugly at Oliver as she passed him, "Consider yourself lucky I'm not in charge. Where's Mei?"

"The other one?" Oliver replied, as if having no interest whatsoever, "I don't know. We traded her off with the Melbourne Junking Company; it's an arrangement we have, you see. All proceeds are divvied up, 30/70, highest going to the finder. I found it rather crass to divide two people in that way, however, so 50/50 it was."

Fareeha made it to her suit as Oliver happily opined, "Well, the other one was so short; I suppose we did make out proper, though with this development…"

"Don't worry," Fareeha spoke, sarcastically, "They won't have their share much longer either."