Part 2: Yourself

Cover art (Replace comma with a period): raven6229,imgur,com/all/

Chapter 10- Headache

Tracer woke up with her head just as foggy as when she went to sleep. Every thought was slow to surface and kept her moving sluggishly as she prepared for the debriefing Athena had told her about. Her harness shone as brightly as ever, and Tracer made sure every strap was secure before heading out to the meeting, sleep still heavy on her eyes. It took her several seconds to figure out that she had a headache, buzzing and incessant and annoying.

She smiled and strode out of the room. Her arm that Widowmaker had shot was healing well thanks to some of the doctor's nanotech. She probably wasn't supposed to use it, but it hardly hurt. She grunted as she activated her blinks, bypassing who was probably Jesse as she ran to where Winston was holding the conference. Debriefing. Whatever he wanted to call it. The meeting was in his lab, surrounding the central HoloVid displaying a map of the globe.

Tracer blinked in there with a hearty "Heya!" as she bounced over to Winston's tire, swinging back and forth on it a tad as Winston grunted his hellos, slightly annoyed at her swinging on the tire.

In the room was Genji, who waved a hello to her from atop the balcony overhang, watching everyone in their meditation pose. Commander Morrison and Captain Amari were sticking close to each other next to the HoloVid and Winston. Fareeha and Dr Ziegler were noticeably absent, but in the centre of the room were two new figures-

"Torbörn! Reinhardt!" Tracer shouted in ecstasy, ignoring the annoying headache as she swung the tire back, launched herself off of it, and barreled right into Reinhardt in a huge bear hug. She could've sworn she even made him move backwards a few inches as he returned the hug, nearly crushing her right back. He was not wearing his usual bulky, silver-coated armour. Instead, he was dressed in a massive tank top and a pair of blue shorts that miraculously fit the giant of a man. His hair was white with age, yet he seemed to have even more energy than before he was forced to retire.

"Ah, Tracer! It is wonderful to see you here! I expected nothing less!"

"Well, you know me, Lieutenant! I gotta go fast!" At those words, he released her and looked about ready to topple over from a loud, booming laugh that echoed throughout the entire room.

"You've got to go fast indeed! Sonic the Hedgehog himself would feel threatened by your speed!"

Next to him, a man that could barely reach her harness let out a "Hmph." He was wearing red combat armor, and a prosthetic claw, with a gun and hammer clipped to his belt. "Looks like the Cavalry is here too."

"Torby!" Tracer charged towards him too, enveloping him in another bear hug that he seemed very opposed to, as he looked away with an annoyed grunt. "When did you two get here?"

Reinhardt bellowed another laugh. "Last night! We managed to get our hands on a plane to fly here! It's not in such good condition now, though."

Torbörn grunted. "Maybe that pile of scrap wouldn't have broken down if you bothered to lose a few pounds."

Reinhardt feigned being hurt. "Why, I am not fat! I am muscular! There is a distinct difference!"

That was when Winston cleared his throat, gesturing for everyone to quiet down. Tracer blinked back up to his tire swing, where she noticed Jesse standing a few feet from the doorway, listening intently. He was here too.

"Now that we have a somewhat substantial number of members back, I believe now would be the time to make our first public operation. Commander Morrison, would you like to- "

"I'm not the commander anymore. This is all you." The man behind the red visor responded curtly, offering nothing else as Ana cast him an exasperated glance, rolling her eyes.

"I- uh, alright then," Winston stumbled nervously. Tracer made sure to pop him a thumbs up. She still had that headache, though… "Vishkar recently attempted expanding into Numbani. Naturally, this did not sit well with the public, and protests began, on the less-than-peaceful side. One of the first to react was Lúcio Correia dos Santos. He continued to engage in fights with Vishkar, but was recently captured and has been broadcasting an SOS message. The people of the city have been getting more violent in response to this. Things will escalate out of control without intervention. So, we're sending a team to free Lúcio, but also to publicise Overwatch's return." Winston took a deep breath, fiddling nervously with a bubble shield as he explained. "It will be a quick mission, but nobody with a criminal record should be there since we're trying to gain some positive PR with this."

Reinhardt chipped in, his voice demanding attention, "So those of us most well-known should go in! That would be a small group!"

Mercy chuckled from a nearby table. "In fact, I think the only ones here that fit that bill would be Torbörn, Tracer, Reinhardt and myself. The same group cobbled together during the Null Sector Uprising."

Tracer wrinkled her nose. Null Sector had been the cause of her first mission. All the destruction to her home… it was the stuff out of books or movies. She shook her head in disgust, remaining quiet. Of course, they'd select Tracer to go on a mission like this. They need to advertise their poster child, after all. Being flashy and silly and goofy. That about sums her up.

Tracer blinked in surprise. Where did that come from? What's with the negativity? It must be the headache. No more grouchy thoughts! Time to smile!

"Bah. If this is going to be a quiet mission, I don't think we're well-equipped," Torbörn complained, glaring daggers at Reinhardt, who didn't seem to mind very much.

Winston hummed thoughtfully. "Then instead of a straight stealth mission, we'll have two groups: Reinhardt and Torbörn can cause a show during one of the riots, which Tracer and Mercy can sneak in and find Lucio. Detaining him as they are is very illegal, but they seem to be avoiding legal repercussions with the sheer amount of power their organisation has."

McCree snorted. So y'all are just gonna swoop in, rescue Lúcio, send few dozen different witch-hunting groups after Overwatch, swoop out, and hopefully have gained something from it?"

Winston seemed much more uncomfortable all of a sudden, his eyes flicking to the walls and ceiling with no actual direction. Tracer shot McCree an annoyed glance.

"Maybe Lúcio will join us, or at the least, we can hurt Vishkar's reputation. We'd be damaging an organisation killing people. We'd be protecting people. Isn't that kind of… oh, I don't know, our jobs?" she snapped, blinking into McCree's face, poking his chest harshly, causing him to take an off-guard step back.

"Woah there, didn't expect ya to get all fussy over that. Calm down," he replied with almost as much venom, not expecting her sudden criticism. "Alright, geez, didn't think you'd get so worked up. Don't mind me."

Tracer snorted and blinked back to the tire swing, as Winston, Genji, Reinhardt, and a few others watched her with varying degrees of surprise or confusion at her outburst. She shook her head, gesturing for Winston to continue.

"Well, uh, Tracer is correct. Hopefully, after the mission, we will be much closer to getting the Petras act recanted, allowing us to work in the public eye again."

"Assuming the governor of the UK doesn't botch things again," Tracer added snidely. Jesse quirked his head, perplexed. Tracer rolled her eyes at him and rubbed her head, trying to get a headache to go away.

The doctor squinted at Tracer, then cleared her throat to grab everyone's attention. "Then if we are prepared, we should meet at the hangar soon. When should we depart, Winston?"

Winston stared at the ceiling for a second as he thought. "I'd say fifteen minutes. That should be more than enough time to fuel the jet. Lena? Would you be okay with doing that?"

Tracer snapped to attention, thinking for a minute. "Yeah! I can take care of that! Leave it to me. How long of a mission is this supposed to be, though? I only have about fifteen hours of charge, assuming I use this thing frequently."

Winston answered quickly. "I find it hard to believe the mission could take any more than six to ten hours, including transit."

Tracer nodded. "Alrighty. I won't bring my charger then! I'll meet you all in the hangar!" Before they could say anything, Tracer blinked off.

…

Everyone sat in silence for a few seconds after Tracer blinked away. Genji was the first to speak up, perfectly balanced on the balcony as he watched the door that had just shut behind her.

"She's acting off," he supplied curtly, jumping down from the ledge, landing without a second thought.

"No kiddin'. Haven't seen her that irritable in… ever."

Winston hummed. "She seemed to be bouncing back and forth regarding behaviour, too."

Commander Morrison just grunted. "It's likely just stress. Based off what I've heard, things have been rough for her lately. I'm sure she's fine. It's not like we all haven't had rough patches."

"That or she's just on a really rough period," Ana added from beside him, causing a symphony of surprised coughs from behind Morrison's visor as she smirked at him smugly.

"Somehow, I doubt that's it," he managed to rasp back. Winston himself was giving one huge face palm.

Mercy stood up from her foldable chair, stretching slightly. "Well, if this banter is over with, I am going to get my tech and check on Lena in the hangar." Mercy took smooth strides out the door, taking the twisting and winding passages to the medical wing, which may as well be her room. Her office was perfectly organised, with everything in a proper drawer and labelled accordingly. In one such cabinet, carefully protected with a fingerprint scanner, was her suit's wings, Caduceus Staff, and pistol. She carefully removed her lab coat, allowing her Valkyrie suit to show itself in full. Clipping her holster to her belt and attaching her wings to the suit, she grabbed her staff and made her way to the hangar.

Lena was there, busily blinking around one of the smaller ships as she fueled it and checked its various functions. The Ship was only large enough for about eight people or so to have decent personal space. It was a reflective, polished silver colour, with a grey nose and large, aerodynamic wings. The cockpit was a ladder climb's away from the proper area where the majority of them would wait.

Tracer moved in her usual blue blur, scurrying around with no lack of energy. It was no wonder the public eye took such a liking to her boundless energy. It was incredible Lena remained so resilient despite everything. Of course, such a constant need to be an icon for Overwatch alongside needing to tend to her own issues would cause some weariness.

"Hello, Lena. How is the ship coming?" Angela started, moving over to help her with one of the fuel tanks, only for Lena to blink in and out with it before she could offer any assistance. Thank goodness her blinks didn't set it aflame.

"Oh! Hiya, Doc!" Tracer merrily greeted between blinks. "Sorry about earlier! I have a massive headache; it's kind of put me in a weird mood."

Angela shook her head. "I doubt anyone is particularly hurt. You've been through quite the ordeal lately. Would you like me to retrieve some medication from the lab? Blinking with a headache cannot be healthy."

"Eh, I'm sure it'll go away. I had a weird dream last night. Probably thanks to only just getting my harness back."

Angela quirked an eyebrow, despite Lena barely paying any attention to the doctor herself. "A dream? Do you mean a normal person's dream or your kind of dreams?" Despite trying to be somewhat playful with her words, Angela regrets them the instant they left her mouth. Lena figured out why in an instant. It was a short sputter in her blinks as she stumbled for an instant before returning to her vigorous blinking.

Lena played it off because of course, she did. "Normal person, huh? No, it wasn't exactly that. But I wasn't faded or anything, so I'm fine all around."

Mercy stumbled over her words. "Lena, you know I did not mean it like that."

Tracer waved her off dismissively as she closed the fueling port to the jet. "No, don't worry about it. You're right; it wasn't a "normal person" dream. The plight of being me." Lena's voice was nonchalant like she didn't care too much about Mercy's words. And yet, underneath that, was some venom. Angela had hurt Tracer.

"Tracer, you are perfectly normal. I was merely speaking of-" Tracer held up her hand, cutting Mercy off.

"Look, I know what you meant. Just drop it." The perky tone was gone, all business now. "I'm going to have to fly, right?"

Angela cocked her head. "'Have to' fly? I was under the impression you enjoyed piloting ships," Mercy admitted reluctantly.

Shaking her head, Tracer just muttered a "forget it," and blinked onto the ship without another word.

Mercy swore under her breath. Stupid. Any chance she had at Lena opening up to her was eliminated with that one slip-up. Why on earth would she ever think it wouldn't be a sore spot for her?

It was around this time that Reinhardt and Torby both made their way to the hangar, with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

"How has Tracer been?" Reinhardt asked in his booming voice, demanding attention as he clanked and clattered forward in his bulky armour. Torbörn was in much less of a rush, taking short, slow steps forward.

Angela sighed. "She's been very… Tracer," she supplied helpfully.

Reinhardt laughed heartily, his armour shaking with him as he heaved his enormous hammer over his shoulder. "A true flash of lightning, unpredictable and powerful!"

Torbörn grunted from behind his friend. "Said 'unpredictability' made it far too complicated when it came to getting her armour on missions," he complained idly, climbing into the jet first.

Mercy couldn't help but chuckle as Reinhardt leapt to Tracer's defence, engaging in some time-filling conversation between them as Mercy watched with a smile on their face. Tracer never made a sound from the cockpit once.

…

Genji and McCree got along better than most people would think at first glance. When seeing them for the first time, they seemed to always be at odds or to have no interest in interacting with each other at all. This simply was not true. Though not by blood, they were brothers. It was impossible not to be, after saving each other's lives a countless amount of times. It was what Blackwatch did to someone. Maybe it was some instinctual coping mechanism, to form close bonds with those you could. Maybe it was just unavoidable in a Blackwatch setting. Neither Genji nor McCree particularly cared. At the end of the day, they were brothers.

And they had something very huge in common. Though she never was officially in Blackwatch, she'd been on more than enough missions with them. She's proven herself time and time again to be more than capable. The only thing keeping her out of Blackwatch was her status in the public eye. So, despite it never being official, Tracer was a part of Blackwatch as well.

And to Genji and McCree, Lena Oxton was a sister. A little sister that would always smile, with kind words, a bubbly personality, sarcastic and witty humour, and the skills to go alongside all of it. When faced with certain death, she laughs. She smiles. She keeps going.

Of course, it was an act. Her big brothers that she never had in the form of Genji and McCree knew this. They first met when she was just a pilot. She was goofy, kind, and very similar to how she currently acted. However, one flight gone wrong was what it took for her true colours to shine through.

She was scared. She was guilty. She was weak. The public would have someone believe that she was infallible. Any small mistake was irrelevant since she could undo it all. She could right every wrong on the earth, and she would fight to the bitter end. That she was a hero. And yet, to be a hero, someone had to know how to feel scared, guilty, and weak; it was how someone learned to be brave, confident, and strong. Genji and McCree knew this better than most.

Genji had fallen into the pitfalls of luxury but had eventually formed his ideals and stuck to them. He had them tested as his brother's dragon tore through his body. Then he changed. He was thrust into a body alien to him, more machine than man. A part of two different worlds, but belonging to neither. An outcast. Certainly, not the beloved heir the Shimada clan he once was. Through it all, he came out with his priorities more in order than ever, learning what actually matters in life.

Jesse was a criminal. A horrible person that had ended innocent lives for selfish gain. Completely numb to humanity and kindness. On that front, Genji and Jesse were very similar. Then Jesse was given a "choice." To have a boss, or to rot in prison. The choice was obvious, though it didn't mean he had to be happy about it. And he wasn't. He continued his rebellious streak, as irritating staff members treated him like a "special case." Like a stick of dynamite that could explode at any moment. In some regards, he was. Those that did not fear him pretended to understand his situation. None of them did. The kindness they offered was hollow, trivial items intended to show compassion. Then Genji came around. Equally as morbid and angry at the world. He was the first to truly understand. It was surprising how comforting Jesse found this. He learned how to channel his anger into productivity, and eventually learned to appreciate the circumstances he once loathed.

But before that acceptance came Tracer. A simple pilot, nobody worth paying attention to. She was brought into Gibraltar a week before her test. Both Genji and McCree loathed her for most of those seven days. It was a hollow loathing, not one they would ever act on. The way she walked and carried herself, though, showed she had to struggle very little to get where she was. Sure, there had been trials, all lives had trials, but nothing on the magnitude that would imply she understood even a fraction of how Genji and McCree felt.

Lena was young and naïve, blind to how cold the world was. A mere teenager with a perky attitude. Always greeting the two of them with smiles and waves. No hostility. No fear. Never wary of the lethal assassins she calmly addressed. It was infuriating.

Over time, however, it became evident. Oxton wasn't oblivious to the lethality of the twosome. She was choosing to look beyond it. To ignore it. Their bodies or their past didn't matter to her. She would smile at them the same way she smiled at everyone else. Not one of pity, or obligation. Not even naivety. She just smiled. It was an innate desire to please, to help, or to make someone's day a little bit brighter. It was impossible not to develop some begrudging admiration for someone's determination to deny all negativity for the sake of helping.

Then she was gone, without even a body to bury. An irreversible mistake, with no cause or reason. A sea of flames was all. The pilot Lena Oxton became a taboo whisper of an "experiment gone wrong." It was peculiar that someone so undeserving of such a fate would meet their end as she did. It happened, of course, since the world was cold, but it was still impossible to expect such a tragedy for someone so bubbly. Nobody ever expected it.

Genji and McCree both noticed, to their collective surprise, that the halls of Gibraltar seemed darker, with a perpetual, sour mood for several weeks after the crash. The halls begged to echo the pleasant British voice that could light up a room.

It was even more surprising that they found themselves missing it as well. They had never truly liked Lena Oxton, but her attitude was something they could grow to appreciate.

Then she was back. Several months later. It was a complete coincidence that Genji and McCree were working in the Gibraltar headquarters when the compound seemed to erupt in activity, scientists scurrying back and forth. Neither of them particularly cared about the chaos, since it didn't involve them. But over time, they could hear faint whispers of "Lena Oxton," someone the two of them had long since put out of their minds. Doctor Ziegler became scarcer and harder to find, only seeing them when Genji had to go in for circuit maintenance. The good doctor must have figured out Genji was curious because she explained what happened to the pilot while fixing his robotic arm.

Genji didn't believe her when he first heard it. A ghost? That made little sense. How could a mishap with a teleporting jet do such a thing? Apparently, the jet relied on something akin to time travel to move from one place to another. Still, there was no way it could be something the doctor couldn't handle in a few weeks.

They were wrong. It wasn't until three weeks after her initial reappearance that she could even have visitors. She was in a room all to herself, not even in the medical wing, which was a distinct surprise. It must mean she was doing fine, right?

They were very wrong. The two of them happened to see her shortly after Angela told Genji she was accepting visitors. To be honest, neither of them knew particularly why they felt the need to go. Maybe it was curiosity, more than anything. It was unusual for the doctor to take such a long time tending to someone.

She smiled as she saw them, giving a friendly wave as she grinned, waving them in. From a distance, she seemed okay. It wasn't until they entered the room that they saw what was amiss. The very atmosphere of the chamber felt charged and unnatural, volatile and unpredictable. Lena herself was no better off. She seemed almost ethereal, not entirely present. Because she wasn't. As she walked around the room, one could see her feet phasing in and out of stray wires as her charred flight outfit hung from her, seeming to be the only thing she could maintain contact with.

Genji had just watched her, perplexed. McCree had acted distant. She acted as cheerful as always, seemingly unhurt by their behaviour towards her. There were moments of frustration as she would try to say something, but she seemingly could not speak. Altogether their meeting lasted a few short minutes, but in that time Genji and McCree had formed an entirely different opinions on the girl.

Over time, they visited her, more and more frequently. They didn't know why, but it was impossible to not worry about the bubbly pilot. She acted the same as always, even without a body or voice. They would walk in to see her surrounded by doctors, who would wave machine after machine in front of her. She took it all with a smile.

Perhaps this is what made Genji grow to like her more. She was not blind. She knew her position. She knew she was a science experiment, as doctors brought her machine after machine to try and touch until Winston came and kicked them out. She did not let this affect her. At first, they thought it to be out of naivety. The same kind that made her smile, to begin with.

This simply wasn't the case. McCree was the first to notice it. Over time, her eyes changed. They matched that of old Deadlock members he'd seen. It was a look that said, "I've been in pain, but you'd better not think me different for it." That childlike innocence was gone, though neither of them knew why. What could have possibly happened that could sap her energy like it was?

She didn't let her sorrow show very easily. At first, they thought she was just powering through it. Eventually, though, she seemed more distant. It took longer to get her attention. She would take longer to react. Not to mention she was always bored.

McCree never thought he'd share his writing with anyone. It would show weakness, or maybe that was just his justification for it. But when he walked in to see Lena reading the same book Winston had destabilised for her for the fifth time, he decided that if there was anyone to show, it was her.

At first, it was just dumb short stories that he would lay out page by page for her. She would hunch over them for hours with a pen Winston had given her, writing detailed notes on them. Sometimes she would draw pictures with that pen that related to them. When she was doing this, her eyes seemed brighter, and her already beaming smile wider. She enjoyed editing his stuff. Whenever he was stationed in Gibraltar, he would take her anything new he had written. He would lay them out page for page and let her take all the time she needed. Occasionally she would have to write anything she wished to tell him on paper first, which gave McCree an idea.

After asking Doctor Ziegler, he was finally able to get Lena a destabilised book on sign language. Lena was curious at first, but took to it quickly, able to fluently sign in about two months. McCree himself took a bit longer, but soon they could carry conversations as McCree could finally translate the meaning of her words. It was easier for everyone, though she seemed adamant about keeping her ability to sign a secret. McCree wasn't sure why, until he realised she'd have to answer questions about her experience, and that wasn't what she wanted to do.

Genji spoke with her far less often but visited her just as much. They had a mutual understanding of each other and how they felt, and Lena didn't judge in the slightest as he would seethe over both of their circumstances. She was even the one to point in in the direction of Nepal, where Mondatta was from, stating he might be able to help. This was how Genji found Zenyatta, though the only reason he stayed as his mentor continued to teach him was her promise that they could help. Eventually, he started to believe her, long after leaving Overwatch before its collapse.

They supported each other. For a girl that couldn't touch anything, she was surprisingly sturdy. They held her up as well. The day she came to them, finally stabilised was one of the happiest days for all of them. Then she got sick again, as her body rejected the harness for a few extra weeks. They supported her then, knowing she was more than willing to return the favour. And she did.

As the years dragged on, and they went on more and more missions together after being moved to the Swiss headquarters, they became closer and closer. An inseparable trio of brothers and a sister. They found ways to contact each other even after Overwatch's collapse. They knew each other better than they knew themselves at times.

Which was why both of them knew something was wrong with Lena. It wasn't just stress. Something was bothering her, but they didn't know what. They exchanged knowing glances as Lena blinked away after her outburst at McCree. She's never been that quick to be offended.

"Whelp," McCree began tactfully, "If we're not needed for this mission, I'll be training. Meet me in the practice range, Genji?" He asked, stretching nonchalantly.

Genji tipped his head, already walking to the door. "Of course. Please, have Athena alert us if we are needed."

The two of them were in no rush to reach the training field.

"No way it's just stress," McCree began out of the blue, saying what they were both thinking. "She's way better at dealin' with stress than that."

"Yes, something has been troubling her as of late. Perhaps it is a repercussion of those dreams?"

McCree winced. "Oh yeah, she did have to deal with that when she lost her harness, didn't she?"

"According to her, she was reliving all the previous events since the Slipstream crash."

"Ow, can't catch a break, huh? Still, it seems like somethin' must be pesterin' her beyond all that. Think it had somethin' to do with that last mission?"

"Perhaps, but we have no way of being sure- stop!" Genji abruptly hissed, automatically making McCree reach for Peacekeeper. A split second later, McCree felt a shuriken whizz by towards an unknown target that seemed to be the wall. The next moment, there was a short cry of pain as a flash of purple revealed someone McCree hadn't thought of in a long time.

"You? Sombra?" McCree asked in shock? "How the hell did you get in here? What the hell are ya doing here anyway?" he asked hotly, pointing peacekeeper at the Mexican clad in a gaudy purple.

Sombra shook her arm, which had a small line of blood showing from a cut on her sleeve, smirking remorselessly. "Aw, you remember me? What a surprise, given you were dead drunk in that bar," she teased, rubbing her thumb against her long, purple nails poking out from her blue and black glove.

"Why isn't Athena settin' off the alarms?" McCree asked as though Genji would have the answer.

Sombra chuckled, pulling out her gun and shuffling it between hands as she leant against the wall casually. "Oh, that A.I. of yours? Surprisingly complex system, but nothing I couldn't silence. I figured you and I could just have some fun for a while."

McCree shot without a second thought, but she was gone, having vanished before their eyes. McCree jumped out of the way as he found her gun to his side, pelting his chest plate with bullets. A few may have penetrated the armour, but that hardly mattered.

Genji spun around, throwing another shuriken, jumping into the air as another wave of ammunition came his way. The shuriken hit the girl's leg, causing her to stumble slightly.

"Ugh, you guys aren't much for having a good time, are you? Fine, if you want to take this seriously…" Suddenly, at speeds rivalling Genji himself, Sombra charged towards Genji, sliding underneath his blade that he had pulled out, twisting and jumping back up behind him, streaking her nails alongside his back. There's no way it should have had any effect, yet purple blossomed through Genji's body, tinting his visor and lights. He froze, locking up and falling to the ground, unable to move.

"The hell?" McCree declared, firing a perfectly aimed shot at Sombra, who vanished at the last minute, appearing behind him. He felt her nails streak along his robotic arm, and his blood ran cold, and he lost the feeling of the prosthetic, while it fell limp at his side. McCree whipped around in an attempt to hit the girl with Peacekeeper, but she was gone again, looking at the both of them like they were a museum exhibit.

"You know, I would use the age-old "stop hitting yourself" method, but I have some class, so I'll settle foooorrrr…" Sombra pressed some buttons on her HoloVid projectors, and it struck McCree. She was using Null Sector tech! The pattern, the colour, the sheer power, it was the same technology controlling the bastions and OR14s he'd seen on his recon mission. That meant she could…!

The next minute, his arm shone an unnatural purple and began to spasm, pulling him left and right like it was being pulled by an invisible force, twisting him around and making it impossible to aim. Genji, meanwhile, had stood up, stiff as a statue. Then he turned to face McCree, sword drawn. His visor was purple, and his movements were rigid and unnatural.

"I- I cannot control it!" Genji shouted from behind the mask, sounding desperate. Then he swung at McCree with deadly precision, creating a deep gash in his side, penetrating his armour as he clumsily dove out of the way, feeling blood seep through the holes in the armour as the serrated edges bit into his skin further. He'd be fine; he's survived worse.

"Genji! She's hacking prosthetics!" McCree shouted, hoping Genji could maintain some semblance of control, and that he knew what he meant. McCree struggled to hold onto his gun as his arm continued to spasm uncontrollably. Sombra, meanwhile, was sitting cross-legged on a cargo crate with a cruel, entertained smile on her face.

Genji swung the blade again in a horizontal slash. There was no way McCree was dodging this one. Suddenly, a really dumb idea popped into his head. McCree twisted against the pull of his robotic arm, facing away from Genji as his arm pulled him in the opposite direction.

McCree bellowed an agonised shout as Genji's blade sliced through his prosthetic like it was butter, sparks showering outward in a glorious light show as blood from his shoulder splattered on the ground. The pain was quick and brilliant, shaking his whole system. McCree turned, shaking, to see the prosthetic cut around five-sixths of the way up, lying on the ground in a pool of blood, oil, and sparks. The doctor would kill him for that.

"Oh?" Sombra tipped her head intrigued. "I wouldn't have expected you to do that. Then again, you're not the brightest individual, are you, Jesse?"

Free from the annoyance of a malfunctioning arm, McCree pointed Peacekeeper at Sombra with renewed aim. She grunted in pain as the bullet penetrated her arm, rendering her unable to type.

"McCree! Dragon!" Genji shouted before his words became toneless and flat. "Ryujin No Ken Wo Kurae." Genji spun around as a bright green dragon erupted from his sword in a brilliant flash, taking up a vast majority of the hallway.

McCree was ready. He dove away, putting some space between him and the neon beast. "It's high noon!" McCree focused the uncanny aim he had honed in the Deadlock gang, A split second before the dragon connected with him, he fired. Genji fell to the ground instantly, causing the roaring dragon to dissolve into nothing. His leg was damaged severely, right in the joint, making it impossible to move as oil mixed with blood leaked out. That was fine; he'd survive.

Sombra made a "Tsk." Sound as she hopped down from the crate, holding her gun in her unwounded hand. Her offhand, McCree was sure. He could take her. "Before you kill me, mind telling me how dearest Fareeha is doing? I haven't seen her since I dropped her off at Talon."

McCree froze and glared at her as she stared down the barrel of his gun, dauntless.

"YOU were the one to do that?" McCree screeched, beginning to shake.

Sombra shook her head. "It was not my decision. It seemed almost counter-productive to take her. Regardless, a job's a job, and I get the feeling things will still go down as intended. It was interesting. She put up such little of a fight, though that woman has a glare that can wilt a flower. She didn't even seem afraid as Reaper approached her while she was bound, knocking her out. I wonder how she held up with him."

Any other words Sombra had were cut off as she suddenly slumped, tumbling to the oil and blood covered floor in a heap, with a small dart sticking out of her neck.

"C-Captain Amari!" McCree announced lamely, growing dizzy.

Ana bent over the unconscious intruder. "Let's get one thing straight. You do NOT touch my daughter. And Jesse?"

"Uh, yes ma'am?"

"You may want to sit down."

"Why would you say that?" McCree asked, before finally looking at himself. "Woah. That is a lot of blood." Then the world darkened as he joined Sombra.

…

The crowds were chaos, an endless tidal wave of protestors, some carrying signs in an impossible vat of noise. It did NOT help Tracer's headache. She and Mercy watched from an above rooftop while Reinhardt and Torbörn travelled by foot. The building Vishkar had purchased to be their own was massive, easier larger in volume than most of the skyscrapers nearby. It looked like a simple business building, with many windows in perfectly aligned rows and columns. A large, blue V had been attached to the front of the building, Reinhardt could get on two other Reinhardts' shoulders and still wouldn't be half as tall as it.

The entrance to the building was blocked by a huge line of police officers and Vishkar employees.

Then chaos erupted as one of the Vishkar employees attacked one of the civilians on the front line. It was an Omnic, one that had been holding a sign, getting closer to the employees than most. A bright, blue beam of pure energy locked onto the Omnic, causing his clothes to catch fire as his circuits began to spark and come loose. Then the fire reached the oil in his system, and flames began to pour out of every opening in his body until he collapsed to the ground in a heap of sparks and flames.

The employee did all this with a deadpan expression. From where Tracer could see, she had long, blonde hair and pasty white skin. Her outfit was white as well, with gold trimming.

The crowd erupted into screams of horror, anguish, and sheer rage as the police seemed to fortify their defences against the onslaught of civilians trying to reach the employee in an attempt to avenge their comrade. More death followed. Both human, and Omnic. Oil and blood decorated the floors, and the smell of smoke and burnt flesh began to permeate throughout the plaza.

Mercy watched with her eyes wide and horrified. Tracer watched in rage. Reinhardt just screamed.

It was a deep, booming cry from the back of the crowd, causing the entire mob to silence themselves and turn to face the newcomer. Even the Vishkar employees paused.

"How dare you commit such a heinous act, you monsters!?" Reinhardt bellowed, louder than a voice with a megaphone. "Let me through!" The crowd parted instantly, creating a path for the livid crusader and seething blacksmith.

"Vishkar! You shall pay for your transgressions!" He swore, taking powerful, menacing steps towards the police line, who gaped in awe and fear of the giant they had angered.

Then all hell broke loose as Reinhardt unleashed his hammer upon the Vishkar attackers. There was no mercy. This was war.

Tracer turned to Angela, who was watching the bloodshed in horror, her hands covering her mouth.

"Doc. We have a mission. Now's our chance," Angela turned to Tracer somberly and nodded, gesturing for her to lead the way. Tracer took a deep breath, and blinked over the crowd, to one of the large windows. She held firmly onto the sill with one of her hands as she shot it with her pistol, causing the glass to shatter. She blinked up into the building, pulling herself n with a flip. Shortly after, the doctor drifted in, landing on the edge of the opening Tracer had created.

The room was a simple, empty office, luckily for them. It was a sterile room, with nothing but a small, steel desk, a basic office chair, a filing cabinet, and a modern computer that was turned on, with the password screen on.

Tracer blinked over to the door, carefully listening for anyone to approach as Mercy methodically when through all the cabinets in search of the password until she must have found it. Several minutes later, she nodded decisively.

"I know where Lúcio is."

"Then let's get to it." Tracer swung the door open as the mission to rescue Lúcio began.