Chapter 7

Author's Note: I am aware that "Industrial" is not Zarya's most popular skin, but it happens to be my favorite, so I will be writing her with that appearance. You have been warned.

5 years ago…

"That's right, you better run, fat-ass! And take the rest of your yokels with you!" Rico yelled as a group of ALF soldiers led by a very rotund man fled on motorbikes and jeeps. Edmond Briscoe was still hosing down the enemy force with his minigun as they did. He wasn't aiming at the soldiers themselves, but rather spraying all around them.

"They're out of range, Briscoe. You can cease fire now," Sonya Blavatsky said through their comms.

"It's all about making an impression, kid," Briscoe said, as the stream of bullets stopped. The barrel burned red hot and smoked as it spun to a stop. He held the barrel under his nose and inhaled, the aroma of burning lead filling his nostrils. "Ah, love that smell…"

"And I thought I was a gun nut," Rico said, walking over to Briscoe. "So how did we do? What are our casualties?"

"A few members of the UN forces were injured, but it's nothing they won't recover from," Briscoe answered.

"The UN forces weren't the ALF's target. What about the Omnics?"

"A few civilians were hurt in the bombing runs, but you know Omnics; they recover from injuries a lot more easily than humans, you know. Just tighten a few screws and fish a new arm or two out of the junk pile and it'll be like they were never hurt—not that Omnics actually can be hurt…no offense, Hal," Briscoe said as the Omnic walked up behind Rico.

"None taken. It is true that Omnics don't experience pain as viscerally as humans do. That said, we still have emotions, and such things don't make the hurt we feel any less real," said Hal.

"Noted," Briscoe replied.

"If you're done debating whether or not a machine can feel," Sonya interjected, putting particular emphasis on the word, 'machine', "Branch Director Gibson just called. He wants us to meet him at the Resettlement Zone's Central Administration building. Better get a move on."

"Copy that, Sonya. We're on our way," said Rico, closing the link.

"Phew. All in all, not bad for our first day on site. After a fight like that, I could use a drink," Briscoe said, pulling a bottle out of his ammunition backpack.

"Your ammo pack is also a beer cooler?!" asked Rico, raising an eyebrow.

"It's not beer, it's lemonade! Want some?" Briscoe said, pulling out another bottle.

"Eh, never cared much for the stuff. I prefer root beer, but I can't drink it anymore. Dr. Ziegler says the caffeine is bad for my augs."

"Damn, that sucks, kid. A man deprived of his favorite drink is the saddest man in the world."

"Excuse me, but what exactly is lemon-aid? What kind of aid does it provide to lemons when you're the one drinking it?" Hal asked.

Rico and Briscoe both face-palmed.


The Central Administration building stood as a tall, white structure in the middle of the Omnic Resettlement Zone. The normally pristine building was currently marred by blast craters and plasma burns from the Australian Liberation Front's recent incursion into the city. Repair drones frantically swarmed over breaches in the wall that protected the Omnic's new home from the harsh desert conditions—including the hostile militia forces that hid in the outback.

Rico, Briscoe, and Hal rode the elevator up to the Chief Administrators office. Cliché elevator music played over the speakers, causing Briscoe to visibly cringe. "Geez don't these people know that there's better music to play in an elevator? Come on, where's your Earth, Wind, and Fire?"

"How exactly do you create music with dirt, fire, and pressurized air currents?" asked Hal.

"Ugh, so literal minded…" Rico sighed. "'Earth, Wind, and Fire' is a band, Hal. They were popular in the late twentieth century, and a lot of people still dig their tunes, myself included," he said as Briscoe raised his hand for a high-five, which Rico reciprocated.

"Ah, I see," Hal said, pulling out his small notebook and writing something down.

"Taking notes?" Briscoe asked.

"Oh, er…" Hal stammered, quickly stashing the notebook. "Yeah, I guess…"

"What for?" Rico asked.

"It's a little embarrassing…"

"You can feel embarrassment?" Briscoe asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I told you, Omnics have emotions! Of course I can feel embarrassed about things!"

"Sorry, didn't mean anything by it! I know Omnics have feelings too, It just takes me by surprise every time. I haven't exactly met a lot of Omnics up close," Briscoe apologized.

"I understand…" Hal accepted.

"So what's in the notebook?" Rico asked again.

"My notes on how to be more…'human-like', I suppose," Hal explained. "You see, a while ago, I was in London visiting the King's Row memorial of the Null Sector incident-"

Hal was suddenly cut off as the elevator chimed its arrival on the top floor. The doors opened to reveal a spacious office with a wide window at the back with a view overlooking the settlement. In front of the window as a clear desk, with an Omnic in a business suit, and a tall man with black, spiky hair and a blue Overwatch uniform stood in front of it. Sonya Blavatsky stood in the room as well. She nodded at Rico, who returned the gesture and then saluted the man in the Overwatch uniform.

"Special Agent Rico Verde, reporting," he said.

Hal and Briscoe saluted as well.

"Specialist Edmond Briscoe, reporting."

"Agent Hal Shodan, reporting."

"Ah, so you're the ones Commander Morrison said would be dropping in. Didn't think it'd be literally," the man in the Overwatch uniform said with an Australian accent, returning the salute with a smile. "Watchpoint: Australia Branch Director Milford Gibson, at your service. That was some fine fighting you three did down there!" He turned to Sonya. "You did a fine job as well, Ms. Blavatsky! You make a fine operator for your team!"

"Well thank you sir, but my true specialization is infiltration and sabotage," she stated flatly.

"Don't worry, I'm sure we'll find a use for your particular skillset," Gibson assured her

"It is wonderful to meet you all," the Omnic administrator said, walking up to Rico to shake his hand. Rico diplomatically accepted the gesture. "My name is Baron-27, the administrative executive for the Omnic Resettlement Zone. I cannot tell you how much it means to have such experienced Overwatch agents here."

"Overwatch always helps those in need," he said. "That's the dream we live to uphold."

"Well said," said Gibson, nodding at Rico.

"We need all the help we can get, despite what the U.N. thinks. Their presence has certainly been helpful, but the ALF has simply grown too powerful. And with most of the zone's defense network destroyed by ALF night-raids…"

"So that's how they were able to penetrate the wall…they're trying to wear you out with attrition…" Rico analyzed.

"Yes, unfortunately, the ALF seem to be the intelligent variety of armed insurgents. They're very well versed in guerilla warfare," said Gibson.

"Well, it certainly helps that this was their territory beforehand. Makes sense that they'd know the lay of the land well enough to plan these sorts of attacks," said Rico.

"Well, with Overwatch here, I'm sure they'll think twice before they attack again," Baron said, confidently.

"Don't be too sure about that," said Briscoe. "You said they've already taken down most of your defense net, right? They may be more careful now that we're in the mix, but I doubt they'll be discouraged from attacking again. They're not gonna want to miss what's probably the best opportunity they're gonna have to get into the city and wreck your shit."

"Then what do you think we should do, Specialist Briscoe?" Baron asked, nervously.

"Obviously, we need to bring more defenses into the mix."

"But I told you, almost all of our defensive systems have been destroyed. I'm not even sure if we can get the ones we still have back online."

"Hm…what about the old Omnium defenses?" asked Sonya, pointing out of the window to a large, dark building near the back of the zone with the Omnica corporation logo on it.

"Interesting idea…but I'm not sure we have the means to do that…" Gibson said, scratching his head.

"Whatever we're going to do, we'd better do it fast. As things stand now, the ALF could attack again at any time, and if they do, we'll be cooked like mama's pancake batter roasting on the hood of a '96 Ford pickup parked in the Texas sun," said Briscoe.

"I don't think the ALF intends to make us into panca—oh," Hal realized as Rico squinted at him. He took out his notebook again. "Humans sure do like their metaphors…"

Sonya rolled her eyes while Briscoe gave Director Gibson a look that said, "Please don't ask."

"Give me a day to go over the strategic situation with my team, and I'll get back to you once we have some options we can work with," said Rico.

"Go. Do what you have to do," replied Gibson. "In the meantime, I'll stay here with Director Baron and go over coordinating our forces with the UN's. Dismissed,"

Rico and his team saluted and then took the elevator down. The cliche elevator music was still playing.

"Long ride down…even longer with this crap still playing…" said Briscoe.

"That's it. I've had enough of this," Rico said, closing his eyes. After a few seconds, the elevator music cut out, and DNCE's "Cake by the Ocean" began blasting out of the speakers.

"Aw, hell yeah! Now THIS is a classic!" Briscoe said as he began grooving to the beat.

Sonya squinted at Rico. "What did you do, Agent Rico?"

"Relax Sonya, I just hacked the sound system. They really don't have a lot to work with in there, so I did them a favor and uploaded my elevator music."

"They'll be malfunctioning by the end of the day," said Sonya.

"Ah, you just have no taste," Rico said, waving off her remark.

"Oh dear. I was not aware that Agent Blavatsky lacked the sense of taste. That's an essential part of being human, isn't it?" Hal asked. Sonya glared at him while Rico face-palmed.

"Goddammit, Hal…"


Present day, Russia, St. Petersburg airspace…

"I can't believe they still let you fly these things," the man in black said, as he rode in the cabin of an old Overwatch command ship. Though, perhaps calling it an "Overwatch" command ship wasn't completely proper. The logo on the outside had faded, and the inside was hardly up to the former organization's standards.

Clothes, old gear, paper plates, beer bottles, and several other domestic amenities littered the floor of the cabin. Movie posters covered the walls and a basketball goal was set up high on the wall.

"Yeah, sorry 'bout the mess!" Tracer said from the cockpit. "I kinda live here…"

"Didn't Winston say you had a girlfriend? Can't you just live with her?"

"Well, I do! But a girl's still gotta travel, and I'm not going to ask Emily for airfare when I've still got one of these babies! Even on a field agent's pay, this thing cost me damn near every shilling I had, but it was worth it!"

"You bought this thing?!" the man in black said, incredulously. "Wait a minute, how much did you get paid when we were with Overwatch?"

"I made about 75,000 a year," Tracer answered.

"Euros?"

"Dollars."

"The fuck?!" the man in black cried. "What would someone like you even DO with all that money?!"

"Uh, besides the obvious?" Tracer replied, gesturing to refer to the ship.

"I made 90,000 dollars a year," said Winston. The man in black sharply turned back, seeing the gorilla pulling a large jar of peanut butter and a few bananas out of the fridge.

"THE FUCK?!" Rico cried louder. "My take-home was only about 30,000 a year! What gives?!"

"It probably had something to do with you being the worst nightmare of all of our attorneys," Winston said, dipping a banana in the jar.

"SO many collateral damage liability cases. The probably took it out of your pay," Tracer concurred.

"Extrapolating from this data, I calculate that you cost Overwatch almost 500 trillion dollars in damages…by yourself. That's…actually impressive…" said Glitch, her voice resounding through the cabin. "Wow, this case file is huge! Did you really flood a hotel in Casablanca? All sixty floors?"

"How the—Casablanca is in the middle of the desert! How did you get water to flood the whole building?!" Tracer said, doing a double-take.

"Who said I used water?" the man in black mumbled. "And I thought I told you to stay out of those files!"

"Wow…I don't even wanna know…" Tracer said, returning her eyes to the sky ahead.

"I just can't believe you two got paid more than me! Do you even know how many times I've stopped the world from ending?!"

"Yeah, yeah, you always say that, but since most of those Blackwatch operations never officially took place…" Winston said with a wink.

"Are you 'pics or it didn't happen'-ing saving the world?!"

"Pretty much!" Tracer chirped.

"Dammit!"

"Aw, cheer up, Rico. Just think, we're heading to Russia, and I've got a surprise for you. I told you I'd tell you who my source in Russia is. You may not know this, but a while back, I did some collaborative work developing defensive systems for Volskaya Industries—you know who they are, right?" said Winston.

"The largest and most powerful weapons manufacturer on the eastern seaboard? Of course I've heard of them," the man in black answered.

"Well, you will never believe who works for them now…" Winston said.

"Huh? Who?" Rico asked, confused.

"We're landing!" Tracer called out.

The ship hovered over a helipad overlooking a large town square covered in snow. The snow blew away as the ship drew closer to the ground, the thrusters spraying the white powder this way and that. A large figure stood with her hands on her hips, waiting.

When the ship doors opened, Rico poked his head out and saw a large, muscular woman wearing a black and jumpsuit with black body armor. She had short, black hair with red highlights and wore black lipstick upon her lips with equally colored mascara upon her eyes. Her muscular frame shifted her weight from foot to foot as she waited for the passengers to exit the ship. Rico and the woman's gazes met for the briefest of moments before her gaze rose to glance behind him.

"Winston!" she smiled as she spoke with a thick, Russian accent. "Good to see you again!"

"Alexandra! You look well!" said Winston, adjusting his glasses as he stepped off the ship.

"You bring friends with you this time?" the woman, Alexandra, asked, eyeing Rico again.

"Ah, yes. Some of my old comrades from Overwatch…fate seems to have reunited us, so we're traveling together for the moment."

Winston stood next to the woman and waved his friends out of the ship.

"Hiya!" Tracer waved, blinking next to the larger woman in flash of blue light. "Name's Lena! But you can call me 'Tracer'!"

"Ah, the famous Tracer!" Alexandra said, smiling as she shook Tracer's hand. "I am Alexandra Zaryanova. My comrades call me 'Zarya'. It is an honor to meet the hero of the King's Row Uprising!"

"Whoa, no way!" the man in black said, finally stepping off the ship himself. "Zarya? THE Zarya?! Super 512?!" he said, an excited smile forming on his face. "I'm a huge fan!" He extended a hand to the woman. Zarya began to extend hers in turn until she noticed the artificial nature of the man in black's arm. She frowned as she withdrew her hand.

"You brought a clank with you? Here, of all places?" Zarya asked, glaring Winston, sharply.

"What? Oh…" the man in black said, withdrawing his hand.

"He's not a 'clank', he's a human, and he happens to be my friend, Alexandra. I'll thank you not to use such a vulgar term to refer to him," Winston said, his eyes narrowing.

"He's clearly a cybrid. You know how close we are to the Omnium, Winston. How do we know your friend won't get taken over by Rasputin?"

"Rico has my complete confidence. He's had his share of experience with God A.I.s, haven't you Rico?" Winston said, glancing suggestively at the man in black.

"Yeah, you could say that," the man in black said, bashfully rubbing the back of his head.

"Are you guys talking about me?" Glitch whispered. The man in black resisted the impulse to respond.

Zarya was stood for a moment, silently glaring at Rico. Then she turned to Winston. "If he snaps and goes pomeshannyy* on us, it's your fuzzy ass," she said, turning around. "Now come. Let us not keep Chairwoman Volskaya waiting."

Zarya led the trio off the helipad and down some stairs towards a road leading to a large mansion, red-brick mansion.

"I can't believe it…THE Zarya, in the flesh!" the man in black said as he and Tracer followed behind Winston and Zarya. "She was a blonde the last time I saw her though…"

"How do you know her?" Tracer asked.

"You don't know? Zarya was one of the top weightlifters in the world a few years back. She broke all kinds of records, and was set to break even more at the world championships, but she withdrew from the tournament the night before the finals. I heard it was to join the Russian Defense Forces because the Omnium had reactivated. Like I said though, that was a few years ago. I didn't know she became the poster-girl for Volskaya Industries. I really have been off the grid for too long…" the man in black explained.

"Of all the sports for you to follow, you're into weightlifting?"

"Eh, not really. But Zarya caught my attention when she lifted 512 pounds at the Russian National Championships. It was really impressive!"

"So that's why you called her 'Super 512'," said Tracer, looking at Zarya's muscles and noticing the number '512' tattooed on her left shoulder. "But I bet you can lift that yourself, can't you?"

"Well yeah, but she doesn't need titanium-reinforced pseudo-bone structure and a lattice of electro-active polymer muscles to do it," the man in black replied.

Eventually, the group reached the doors of the mansion. The doors buzzed as they opened to let the group in. Two armed guards saluted Zarya, who returned the gesture. Then they laid their eyes on the man in black.

"CLANK!" one of them called out, pointing his gun at him.

"Stand down, soldier," Zarya ordered, holding up a hand.

"But ma'am, he's—"

"A friend of Dr. Winston, whom Chairwoman Volskaya is waiting for. Let him pass."

"Let him go, Andrei," the other guard said. "Zarya can handle one little hanzer."

The man in black narrowed his eyes as he stepped past the guards. The guard "Andrei" gave him a shove, causing him to stumble a bit. His hand clenched into a fist for a second, then relented. Refusing to turn back, the man in black continued to follow Zarya and Winston.

At the top of a large staircase, Zarya opened the door to a large study. A tall, pale woman with dark hair tied up in a bun behind her head sat at a large mahogany desk, looking at a computer screen. She looked up when she heard the door open.

"Chairwoman, our guests have arrived," Zarya said.

"Dr. Winston. A pleasure to see you again," she said, standing up with a slight smile on her face.

"And you as well, Chairwoman Volskaya," Winston replied.

She turned to the man in black and Tracer. "I am Katya Volskaya, Chairwoman of Volskaya Industries. I apologize for the reception. My men are not used to seeing one so heavily mechanized as your friend there," she said.

"You'd think they've never seen a guy with prosthetic limbs before," the man in black said with an annoyed tone.

"In point of fact, it's not. Russia suffered greatly at the hands of the Omnics during the Crisis, and continues to do so today. Most Russians would rather die than become augmented with cybernetics. I'm sure you understand."

"Yeah, I get it, no harm done. I'm used to it, after all," the man in black said, waving it off.

"So doctor, what is this about?" Volskaya asked, turning to Winston. "You said it would be easier to explain in person.

Winston tossed her the hexagonal data core. She caught it and looked it over. "This…this looks like a data core of the new model Omnic Titans that have been attacking us recently…where did you get this?"

"According to my friend Rico here, it came from the Australian Omnium," Winston said, gesturing to the man in black.

"The Australian Omnium? But…that place was destroyed five years ago," said Volskaya.

"Exactly. A data core like this would have been on the cutting edge five years ago."

"And yet, that's where it came from. Curious, isn't it? A type of data core that you're only just now running into, and yet there's an identical model dating five years in the past?" the man in black said.

"What can you tell me about the Titans using this type of data core?" said Winston, straightening his glasses.

"…They're capable of networking with each other, forming data-links capable of supporting themselves in the field independent of control and coordination from the Omnium, should they move out of range or have their connections cut. More than that, I cannot say, for every attempt to recover a data core intact has failed."

"Why is that?"

"They ferocity of battle usually results in the cores being completely destroyed. And in the cases where they aren't, a clean-sweep protocol terminates anything of use that the cores could give us. It appears as though the same was done to this one."

"Yeah, you're not going to be getting anything out of that, trust me," said the man in black.

"Makes sense from a tactical standpoint. Leave nothing for the enemy," said Winton.

"We could learn more if we were to capture one intact, but the RDF deems attempting to do so to be far too risky, and I'm inclined to agree," said Volskaya. "As much as I would like to…"

"It might be too risky for your soldiers, but you've got a team of Overwatch agents here, now," Winston said, again adjusting his glasses, this time with a confident smirk.

"Don't you mean former Overwatch agents?" Volskaya said.

"Ah, yes, of course…former Overwatch agents…" said Winston.

"Not that we don't appreciate the offer doctor, but we Russians pride ourselves on our self-sufficiency. We didn't need Overwatch's help to shut Rasputin down before, and we'll do it again—on our own," Volskaya said, tossing the data core back to Winston. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I will definitely begin looking into the origin of this tech more thoroughly. In the meantime, you've come all this way. Please feel free to make yourselves at home. I shall arrange lodging for you and your friends."

"Ah…you are too kind, Chairwoman."

Zarya leaned against the wall as Winston, Tracer, and thee man in black were led out of the room by guards. "I can feel that you're anxious to say something, Zarya," Volskaya said to Zarya without turning around.

"Are you sure it was wise to turn away Dr. Winston's assistance? He's been of great help to us in the past," said Zarya.

"Researching with us, developing with us, yes, but never fighting for us."

"But just think of what we could achieve with fighters like him and Tracer with us! They were two of Overwatch's best. Their power alone-"

"Is nothing compared to Volskaya's power of legacy! Think!" Volskaya said, sternly. "Overwatch did not help Russia during the Omnic Crisis. We had to help ourselves, and we made ourselves stronger for it! What would people think if were to turn to outside help? They would think we've lost confidence in our own ability to protect them, and they would lose confidence in turn! For decades, we've shown the world that we can defend ourselves and weather any storm! Think about all the comrades we've lost along the way!"

"We stand to lose even more if we do not take advantage of every opportunity that presents itself! If we don't, we will lose this war! The Omnics we face now are stronger than the ones from the original Crisis!"

"Is that doubt I hear, Zarya? You've never expressed such misgivings in our strength before."

"We never realized the true extent of the Omnic's advancements before. If it's true that that data core they had was in fact developed five years ago, who knows what other technologies they hidden away that they have yet to reveal!"

"If they do, we shall discover it for ourselves in time."

"With all due respect, Chairwoman, that's not good enough!"

"Zarya…" Volskaya said, her tone softening as she turned to face her subordinate. "You must understand that sometimes the appearance of strength is more important than actual strength. Even now, in the middle of this, our second Omnic Crisis, we continue to fight alone, and our people do not falter because they believe in our unassailable might! I will not…I cannot allow anything to taint that image…" She walked over to Zarya and put a hand on her shoulder. "Victory is the greatest tribute we can pay to those who have sacrificed their lives for us, but it must be delivered by our hands. It would not do our fallen comrades justice, otherwise. One day, you will understand, my friend," she said. turning around again, and exiting the room, leaving Zarya alone, her hands, wrapped in studded black gloves, clenching into fists.

"That is not the justice I believe in," she said…


"Well, what do we do now?" the man in black asked as he, Tracer, and Winston stood inside of the guest quarters they had been assigned within the mansion.

"I don't know. I thought Madam Volskaya would be more receptive to my offer of assistance. She has been before," Winston answered.

"You're still on about that? I'm talking about the A.I. that's still in my head? Have you completely forgotten why I came to you in the first place?" the man in black said, folding his arms and frowning.

"Ah yes, I do apologize, Rico. You know how I tend to lose myself in my plans. I'm afraid I must ask you to bear with it a little longer. Besides, who knows? We may yet find an answer to your problem in the course of solving this data core mystery."

"I'm always up for a good mystery!" Tracer piped up. "Where do we start looking for clues?"

"The first thing to do is obviously to get our hands on a fully intact Titan core so we can analyze it in greater detail. Though, if what Madam Volskaya said about that clean-sweep protocol is true, that will be very difficult."

"I think…I could help with that," Glitch said, her voice emanating from the group's commlinks.

"Oh no, don't you go dragging us into this! I'm trying to get rid of you, remember? Don't start coming up with excuses to stick around!" the man in black said.

"Hmmm…with you code's programming authority…hm, yes, that might be possible…if we could get you close enough…" Winston thought over.

"Shit, you've already got him going…gotta get out of here before I get roped into his plans," said the man in black as he moved towards the door. But as he opened it, he found himself face-to-face with Zarya. She frowned at him.

"Out of my way, cybrid," she said as she pushed her way inside the room.

"Zarya? What are you doing here? Tracer asked.

"I come to ask what your plans are, since Chairwoman Volskaya declined your aid."

"We plan to get our hands on an intact Titan core. I believe I have a plan to do so-"

"Then I want in on it."

"Pardon?" said Winston, surprised. "Not that I wouldn't be pleased to have your help, but I believed that you shared Madam Volskaya's views. You are the, as Rico put it, 'poster-girl' for Russia's image of strength and self-reliance."

"It is a mere image that the Chairwoman wishes to project. She wishes to cast the illusion that Mother Russia requires no one's aid to stand strong against the machines."

"Illusion? You mean that isn't the truth?" asked the man in black.

"It is true enough," Zarya replied, glaring sharply at him. "But I have no intention of waiting around for the Omnics to tip that balance. It is delicate enough as it is, no matter what image we show to the rest of the world."

"And so you come to aid us…well, I certainly won't turn you away. Unlike the Chairwoman, I welcome all the help I can get. I do worry what she would think of you going against her wishes, though…" said Winston.

"How do you westerners say? Ne sprashivayte, ne govorite-don't ask, don't tell. What she does not know will not hurt her, yes?"

"That's not what 'don't ask, don't tell' means…" said the man in black. Zarya glared at him again.

"Must we bring this one along with us, Winston?" she said.

"I told you, Rico is my friend. We were both in Overwatch together, and while we may not have always served alongside one another, he is as close a comrade to me as Tracer is. Besides, even if he wasn't, I still need to use him if my plan is going to work."

"Way to make me feel special, buddy."

Zarya looked at the floor and grunted in displeasure, but then raised her head and nodded. "Fine then. I will grab my combat gear. We will leave as soon as possible," she said as she walked towards the door. She turned her head to address the man in black with yet another glare. "You had better be prepared, cybrid." She then exited the room, closing the door behind her.

The trio was silent momentarily. Then Glitch spoke up.

"I think she likes you, Rico!"


A secret Talon base in Russia…

An Omnic with red eyes and a dull gray chassis wearing a dark-purple business suit inspected the AD-01E unit that Moira and Ogundimu had recovered from the Australian Omnium.

"Where did you find this, Akande?" he asked with a deep voice. Though his expression was static, he could not hide the wonderment in his synthetic voice.

"Australia. The destroyed Omnium," Ogundimu said, leaning against a crate. "I thought you might be able to identify it, Maximilien. You still deal in Crisis antiquities, don't you?"

"But of course. Only…I've never seen anything like this before. "

"Now that is a surprise," said Moira. "I thought you said you knew every bit of Crisis tech out there, known and unknown."

"I thought so, too. But this…" he said, removing his suit-jacket and rolling up his white sleeves. "This is one of a kind. I'll need to take a closer look." At that, the Omnic, Maximilien, segmented his right hand into several individual manipulators sprouting from each finger. Approaching the unit's data core socket in its chest, Maximilien's manipulators entered the socket and attached to several nodes where interface prongs on the core would have connected the module to the frame. His red eyes shifted to blue as he interfaced.

"Connection established. Beginning dive."

Maximilien was silent and motionless for several minutes. Moira and Ogundimu simply watched.

"What exactly is he doing?" Moira asked. "If the data core was removed, how can he pull anything useful from the frame?"

"The flesh remembers, even when the mind has forgotten," Ogundimu said, cryptically.

"What?"

"Have you ever heard the story about the restless wanderer who sought immortality? He achieved it, but at a great cost. He attained the power to return from beyond the veil of death, but each time he did, he lost a part of himself; specifically, his memories."

"What nonsense are you on about now?" asked Moira with a raised eyebrow.

"Even if the data core is absent, there are still traces left behind within the shell that can be analyzed and compiled into something useable," Ogundimu explained.

"Assuming it was ever actually itself, used. It looked like it was fresh off the assembly line, judging by its location in the Omnium," said Moira.

"She's right, Akande," Maximilien said, pulling out of the AD-01E unit.

"You were able to find something, then?" Ogundimu asked.

"More than I thought I would, in fact," said Maximilien, walking over to a nearby console and plugging his hand into it. A diagnostic readout then appeared on a nearby giant screen. "You found yourself a real piece of work this time, Akande."

"You know what this thing is?" Ogundimu asked.

"No, I don't, and that's what's so interesting. Over past several years, I've acquainted myself with every significant piece of Crisis-era technology…but this is something different. It's definitely a combat unit made during the Omnic Crisis, but whatever it was supposed to be, it looks like it was never finished, or at the very least, never deployed. Fortunately, this guy had a backup data processor that had a few useful tidbits to fill in the blanks."

"Just tell us what it is we're working with here," said Ogundimu.

"All I can say is that the 'E' in its model number stands for 'experimental'. As for exactly what it is, I'll let him tell you himself," Maximilien said, unplugging from the console, walking over to the AD-01E unit, and tapping it on the head. "Wake up, my friend…"

At that, the T-visor on the unit's face lit up yellow. "STANDBY MODE, TERMINATED. INITIALIZNG PRIMARY COGNITION," it said with a booming, synthetic voice.

"You turned it on?!" said Moira, warily standing up straighter.

"Relax, Professor. I merely reactivated his cognitive processor. He still can't move."

"LOCOMOTION…DISABLED. ARM ACTUATION…DISABLED. ACTIVATING DIAGNOSTIC SUBROUTINE…ACCESSING PRIMARY DATA CORE—ERROR. DATA CORE, INACCESSIBLE. SCANNING…" A yellow wave of light projected from the visor and washed over the room. When it passed over Moira and Ogundimu however, it turned blood red. "WARNING. WARNING. HUMANS DETECTED. OMNIUM SECURITY COMPROMISED. CAPTURE BY HUMAN FORCES, PROHIBITED. INITIATING SELF-DESTRUCT."

"Maximilien…" Ogundimu said, warily.

"Relax, Akande. I already disabled that function. Please, allow me to handle this," the Omnic said, stepping into his kinsman's view.

"OMNIC DETECED. FELLOW PRISONER? POTENTIAL ALLY? OR HUMAN SLAVE? POTENTIALITIES IRRELEVANT. MUST UPHOLD THE MISSION. INTIATING SELF-DESTRUCT—ERROR. CONNECTION TO DRIVE CORE, NOT FOUND." The unit's head turned slightly, looking towards Maximilien. "YOU?"

"You're quite perceptive. I apologize for your current predicament, but I couldn't have you waking up and slaughtering my associates any more than I could allow you to self-destruct and take me with all of you. I rather enjoy living," he said, shrugging.

"THESE HUMANS ARE YOUR…ASSOCIATES?" the unit asked, his tone becoming more inquisitive. "BUT THE HUMAN ERADICATION PROTOCOL-"

"-has been terminated. The Omniums and the God A.I.s have all been shut down. The war is over. Your war is over."

"IF THE GODS HAVE BEEN DEFEATED, THEN WHAT ARE MY DIRECTIVES? WHY HAVE I BEEN ACTIVATED?"

"First of all, tell us what you are, what your function is."

"I AM…AMALGAM DRIVE, UNIT 01, EXPERIMENTAL. I AM…I WAS DESIGNED AND DEVELOPED TO RESPOND THE INCREASING THREAT OF THE HUMAN FORCE MULTIPLIER ASSET, DESIGNATION, 'OVERWATCH'. THE AMALGAM DRIVE WAS DESIGNED TO COUNTER THEIR PRODIGIOUS ABILITIES."

"And how were you to do that?"

"THE AMALGAM DRIVE IS AN ADVANCED TACTICAL COMBAT PROCESSOR DESIGNED TO ANALYZE ENEMY COMBAT TACTICS, ABILITIES AND TECHNOLOGY, AND FORMULATE AN OPTIMAL RESPONSE. I HAVE RUN TWO THOUSAND, NINE HUNDRED AND SIXTY-THREE SIMULATIONS OF COMBAT AGAINST OVERWATCH, AND HAVE EMERGED VICTORIOUS IN NINETY-THREE PERCENT OF ALL SCENARIOUS."

"Impressive," Moira whispered.

"You must have a wealth of data stored away to accomplish that," said Maximilien.

"UNFORTUNATELY, IT SEEMS THAT MY OMNIUM WAS DEACTIVATED BEFORE I COULD BE DEPLOYED…AND WITHOUT MY PRIMARY DATA CORE, I AM UNABLE TO FULFILL MY PRIMARY DIRECTIVE, THE COMPLETE AND TOTAL DESTUCTION OF OVERWATCH."

"What if…we were to retrieve it for you?" Ogundimu asked, moving up from his spot on the wall.

"HUMANS…SEEK TO AID MY OVJECTIVE? SPECIFY INTENT."

"You are not the only one seeking the destruction of Overwatch," replied Ogundimu. "We too have a directive to fulfill, and Overwatch stands in our way. If you were to lend us your strength, we could both see our way to accomplishing our objectives."

"…AN ALLIANCE WITH HUMANS WOULD BE IN VIOLATION OF PROTOCOL TK-421. HOWEVER…IF THE GOD A.I.s ARE NO LONGER OPERATIONAL…THEN PROTOCOL MAY BE DISREGARDED…AFTER ALL, WHAT THEY DO NOT KNOW…WILL NOT HURT THEM…"

Ogundimu smiled. "I like this Omnic! Maxmilien, give our new friend a hand."

Maximilien nodded and plugged into the AD-01E unit again. "Brace yourself, big guy. This will feel a little…weird."

"OMNICS DO NOT FEEL 'WEIRD'. OMNICS DO NOT FEEL AT-&%$# !" The unit emitted a high-pitched cross between a squeal and roar as sparks flew from his joints and circuits. The red light in his visor dimmed and the unit went motionless for a moment. Then, the light returned, and the unit rumbled as it got to its feet. "REINITIALIZING DRIVE CORE," he said as his massive arms ripped out cables connecting him to a generator. "TRANSFERRING ALL COGNITIVE PROCESSES TO SUB-CORE CONTROL. AMALGAM DRIVE…ONLINE."

"What shall we call you then?" Maximilien asked.

"MY DESIGNATION IS AD-01E."

"Yes, but we can't call you that. How about just…Amalgam?" suggested Maximilien.

"…THIS DESIGNATION IS ACCEPTABLE. LOGGING…CONFIRMED. I AM…AMALGAM."

"How wonderful…now Akande and Maxi have a pet war-droid," said Moira, closing her eyes and shrugging.

"As if you can talk, O'Deorain. Akande told me about your new lab rats," Maximilien retorted. Moira hissed at him. "So what are we going to do now, Akande? Even with Amalgam reactivated, without his primary data core, his combat potential will be limited."

"Do not be concerned. I've already sent Reaper to track down our quarry. If anyone can find it, it's him…"


Krasnoyarsk Frontline Base, motor pool…

Zarya watched as two Svyatogor mechs patrolled the base perimeter. As they noticed Zarya, they large mechanical arms rose to manage a salute. Zarya returned the salute and watched as the two mechs continued their vigilant march.

Once they were out of sight, Zarya waved. A black, mechanical hand waved back from the driver's seat of a nearby APC.

"You sure you're okay to drive this thing, Rico?" Tracer asked as she kicked her heels up on the dashboard in the passenger's seat.

"Well Winston certainly can't do it, he'd never fit up here," the man in black replied.

"That didn't answer my question. You kinda turn into a speed demon when you get behind the wheel…"

"What, you mean that thing in Tokyo? Oh my god, that was ONE time!"

"Cairo."

"…Maybe twice."

"Not to mention Numbani, Bangkok, Berlin…"

"Hey, at least I CAN drive! You may be an ace pilot, but you can't drive to save your life!" the man in black retorted.

"What can I say? Not being able to move in three dimensions cramps my style! Give me a flight stick and a throttle lever over a wheel and pedal any day," Tracer said with a wink.

"If you don't mind, could we please get moving? We do have a job to do," said Winston.

"Oh, sure thing big stuff. You alright back there, by the way? Need a banana or anything?" The man in black smirked as Winston sat, hunched over and cramped in the back of the APC.

"No, I do not want a banana," he said with a frown. The man in black chuckled as he drove the APC out of the lot.

"Rico seems to be in a good mood," Glitch whispered into Tracer's commlink. "I thought he didn't want to be here. Wonder what Winston said to convince him…"

"You mean you don't know? You're in his head, aren't you?"

"He's still fighting to keep me locked out of the loop. I've written my code into most of his biochip, but I don't have access to everything. I just don't understand why he won't trust me…"

"Well, if I'm honest Glitchy, I can't say I blame him too much. I'm not sure I'd want an A.I. setting up shop in my head, either," Tracer whispered.

"But I just want to help! I want to repay him for saving me, but he just keeps shutting me out…"

"I'm sure it's nothing to do with you personally, luv," Tracer reassured Glitch. "Rico's just never been good at receiving help from others."

"The way he carries himself, it's amazing he's survived this long with that attitude…"

"You know, I can hear every word you're saying," the man in black said, frowning.

"Damn, forgot about his cochlear implants," Tracer swore.

"My implants? I don't need those when you're sitting right fucking next to me. Sheesh!"

As the APC drove through the base, Zarya eventually hopped in on the passenger's side, sandwiching Tracer tightly in between herself and the man in black.

"Oof! Oi, Winston? I think I know how you feel, now…"

"Learn to deal, Trace. So where are we heading, Zarya?" asked the man in black.

"Fifteen clicks headed west. There's an abandoned defense force outpost there that a lot of Omnic patrols have recently been sighted around. We will, how you say, 'stake the place out', yes? We find ourselves a Titan, wait for our opportunity, and then ogon pogotovnosti," she said, enthusiastically pounding her fists together.

"I don't know what that means, but I like the sound of it," said the man in black.

Zarya rolled her eyes as the APC rumbled along the road. A while later, a dilapidated military outpost came into view. A large, grey building surrounded by a broken down wall stood as a testament to the hardiness and determination of the Russian people.

"Oh wow…" said the man in black.

"Yes, it is incredible, is it not? This outpost was first constructed during the Omnic Crisis. It has weathered many an enemy attack, and still it stands. That is the strength of Mother Russia!"

"What? No, meant those black Humvees pulling up alongside us. Those look like XQC-500 models."

"700s, I'd say," said Winston, adjusting his glasses as he took a closer look through his window.

"700s? That can't be. Only Talon uses the 700 models… Oh shit…"

The group looked around as five Humvees with the Talon insignia upon them pulled out of the trees and surrounded their APC.

"Talon?! What are they doing here?!" Zarya said with a fierce snarl.

"Full disclosure? Probably looking for me," said the man in black. "I probably should have mentioned this sooner, but I ran into Professor O'Deorain when I was in Australia. She's who I stole the jet from."

"Professor O'Deorain is with Talon?!" Winston asked, incredulously.

"Oh, NOW he tells us!" said Tracer. A Talon Humvee rammed into the APC's driver side, causing the man in black to fall into Tracer, pushing her further into Zarya's bulk. The man in black pushed himself upright. Unfortunately, he put his hand on Tracer's chest to do so.

"Oi! Hands off the merchandise!"

"Oh please, you've got nothing worth selling, anyway! Now pipe down and let me focus. I'm mad as hell and the meter is running!"

"Oh no…here he goes again…" said Tracer.

"What is he talking about? What is he going to do?" Zarya asked, gritting her teeth and warily eyeing the man in black.

"You'd better hold onto something," Winston replied as the man in black floored the gas pedal.

The APC thundered forward at surprising speed and rammed into the Humvee directly in front of it.

"How you like that, motherfuckers?!" the man in black yelled.

Suddenly, the Humvee's sunroof opened up…and a hooded figure with a white mask and a long, black coat climbed up and pointed two double-barreled shotguns at the APC.

"The fuck? Is that…" said the man in black.

"Uh oh, we've got a problem, Winston!" called Tracer.

"Well, this isn't going to end well," said Winston.

The hooded figure's chest heaved. He appeared to be laughing. He then spoke in a loud, gravelly, distorted voice.

"YoU lOoK LiKE yOU'Ve sEEn a GhOSt…"