A/N: It's been too long my friends. -Draconian

Dragon Tales

"You have got to be bloody kidding me." Despite the smaller, lean frame of Draconian, he was a right pain in the ass to carry. So thought Lena as she dragged him down Watchpoint Gibraltar's halls at two in the morning, sure she looked like she had just murdered him. That would make Winston happy.

She stepped into the clinic, which was organized and immaculate and blinding white. On the wall, in a clear glass case, was Angela's Valkyrie suit, the very image of angelic grace, its wings glowing bright white and gold and the staff slender as a reed beside it. Lena was always taken aback by how the suit looked. Wish I had wings for my suit. Thought Lena. Probably wouldn't be super aerodynamic though.

"Angela?" Called Lena.

"One moment please." Said the light, pleasant voice of Angela Ziegler. She stepped out of a small washroom stationed in the clinic, wiping her hands on a clean cotton towel. She wore a simple red T shirt that read "trust me, I'm a doctor", a pair of blue jeans with white hi-tops, and a white lab coat over it all. Her platinum blonde hair and diamond blue eyes leant more credibility to the notion of her being an angel. She took one look at Lena carrying the oddly heavy body of Draconian, her lip curling in distaste. She shared the same feeling of animosity towards Draconian that Winston and Athena shared. "Him." She said flatly.

"Angela, he needs your help. He was in the bathroom, apparently sick or something, and then he just passed out."

Angela glared at the limp form of Draconian. "I thought he couldn't get sick. For any reason."

"Neither did I. But please Angela, help him. You're a doctor. That's what you do." Pleaded Lena.

Angela debated on whether or not giving him killing doses of morphine to really check whether or not his augmentation was not what it cracked up to be. If it worked, he was done for. If not, then he'd be fine anyway. She sniffed. "Fine. Put him on the bed."

Lena groaned and struggled underneath his weight, throwing him off onto the bed with his arm and leg draping off one side. Angela busied herself, mumbling slightly and cursing under her breath. "Three hours and I'm already having to deal with this schweinhund…"

She put a heart rate monitor on his arm and checked he was still breathing, which he was. She took a blood sample, and was surprised at what she saw. "Gott im himmel!" She said.

"What, what is it?" Said Lena, standing up.

Angela took a shaky breath. "Lena, I have a question for you. Have you, or any other Overwatch member, seen him bleed?"

Lena frowned, scratching her chin. "No. No, I don't think so. But…" Angela looked sharply at her. "After our… fight with Doomfist, before Overwatch was disbanded, the guards told us Doomfist kept spouting off about a gold eyed, silver blooded ally. That's all. Gold eyes… we assumed that could only be Draconian. But silver blood? We'd never seen him bleed before though."

Angela held up the small vial in her hands, in which swirled a silvery liquid substance. "I took a blood sample. And his blood is silver. Silver, Lena. I can't imagine for any reason why any person's blood would be silver!" Angela began to sound excited. "Different pigmentation of the blood? Does he not require oxygen? Is that why his blood his silver? But no, if he didn't require oxygen, it'd be blue…"

"Um, doc, I don't mean to pressure you, but surely you should get back to seeing what's wrong with him?"

"Oh right." She said, gaining back her formality, the excited doctor fading below the surface. "He could be a medical marvel though." She said, her blue eyes shining. "Imagine, if his magical augmentations could be applied to science…"

She began to study him, checking the whites of his eyes which held a faint gold glow to them, assumably from the irises. She studied his teeth, which were very white and straight, and the breathing in his lungs. His other vitals were monitored, including his blood pressure and heart rate, which seemed to be normal. In short, there seemed to be nothing wrong with him, concluded Angela, besides the fact he was unconscious for one reason or another.

"Angela." Said Lena. "I was talking with Draconian earlier, and he said we'd have to vacate this base. Go underground. Do you think that's true?"

Angela sighed, looking at the Valkyrie suit on the wall wistfully. "Unfortunately, he's right. I'm more than certain that some of us are still monitored by the U.N. McCree, Torbjorn, perhaps even me. While I was in the Middle East, I had better security than one might expect in such a conflicted place. I thought it was just because I was a doctor, but some of these people seemed to know who I was."

"What was it like?" Asked Lena. "In the Middle East."

Angela seemed to deflate slightly. "It was violent, Lena. So many people, displaced because of the political turmoil and endless terrorist factions. It's terrible Lena. And Overwatch, being shut down, while it had its reasons… I cannot deny that Overwatch brought peace to places such as those." Her eyes tracked the wings of the angelic suit, tracing the slender outline of the caduceus staff. "At the time, I agreed with the U.N's decision to shut Overwatch down. My technology had started to see… less desirable effects than what I created them for. My biotic rifle was stolen, after I told Torbjorn not to make it. It's been incorporated into Vishkar technology to heal their mercenaries. And the Shambali monks… I do not know how, but the orb he placed on Draconian… Genji told me about it. He started to go ballistic, and despite my disdain of Draconian and what he has done, I would feel my technology is too kind a way for him to go, if indeed he can die. The orbs, he called them, were harmony and discord. One to heal, one to incapacitate." She shook her head, bewildered. "My technology, ment only for good, has been perverted by forces for harm."

"Perhaps, he had reason for turning the orbs to his own purpose." Said Lena. "I heard rumors. Before Mondatta was assassinated. That one of his disciples left him, disagreed with him. That this student walked among people as opposed to standing above them. Could that be Zenyatta? Mondatta never fought, or took action. Not like Zenyatta. No, he always preached. Maybe… maybe Zenyatta is trying to take action instead of preaching it."

"Hmm." Angela nodded, seeming to agree with Lena. "I suppose that could be true. Genji found Zenyatta in… Mongolia, was it? I'd have to ask, but Genji was depressed and in rejection of literally the only solution I could find for him. Then he met Zen and… well, Genji is now at peace, so he says. And I believe him. Maybe Zenyatta, in joining Overwatch, will be trying to mend relations between Omnics and humans through being an Omnic himself."

Lena nodded. "That's a good idea. I mean, how many Omnics were a part of the original Overwatch team? I mean, I remember… Ah I forget her name. She was an Omnic though. Had the single blue eye, willowy figure, y'know… I don't remember, never mind. But think. If Overwatch is going to come back, then I think it would be good for us to start accepting Omnics like Zenyatta, and hybrids like Genji, to show the world that Overwatch doesn't discriminate on flesh or metal."

Angela sighed a very mom-like sigh. "Lena… I think that will be the least of our worries. Yes, we called Overwatch back to service, but don't forget… It was the world that wanted Overwatch done away with. So, while we might try to solve the societal problems that plague the world, the real question is, does the world want Overwatch to deal with them?"

Lena didn't have a reply for that. Only the omnipresent feeling that Overwatch was the right choice, even after the division caused by Gabriel Reyes, turning agents of Blackwatch and cold hearted agents of Overwatch against the organization, eventually culminating in the explosion at the Swiss Headquarters and the downfall of the once proud and mighty organization.

Lena ran her hand through her even more than usual untidy hair, looking at the form of Draconian laying on the bed. Silver blood, magic, Dragons, premonitions, gold eyes… What exactly are you Draconian? Because you've proven time and time again that you're not human. You seeing me in the Void, twice, proves that.

Angela looked at Lena, her blue eyes wise and soothing. "Tell me liebling. What troubles you? Surely not him?" She said, gesturing to Draconian.

Lena shrugged, not wanting to acknowledge her strife that came from a factor of different things. If her eyes weren't yellow, they'd be brown...Her skin was pale, not blue… She wore dresses and T shirts, not catsuits… Her thoughts led her down darker paths. How many know? She wondered. I never wanted to tell anyone. That I… I only ever liked… She swallowed hard. She could explain these things to Draconian. He had a sort of detachment from life as a whole that made it easier to explain things to him. He simply wouldn't care. About her sexuality. Her time in the Void. And… Amelie.

She was about to voice these thoughts to Angela, about Draconian's ease of disconnect from life and its emotions from a third person perspective, when a blue purple glow began to pulse right by Draconian's side. "Angela, look!" Said Lena, pointing at the human shaped silhouette. Angela looked up sharply, reaching for a pair of scalpels in the drawer next to her for defense.

The silhouette began to solidify into a middle aged man with a silvery, close cropped beard and glowing purple eyes. He was dressed in royal blue robes with black outlines in its fold, and his bearing seemed relaxed and calm. "Peace, Overwatch." Said the man. "I mean you no harm. I am here for my brother, Draconian."

"Brother?" Said Angela.

The man looked at the two of them, and for a single moment the image of a Dragon flashed over his facial features, sharply pointed with downward spiraling horns and the same glowing purple eyes as his human form. "I am a Dragon." He said dismissively. "One of those. You should know Lena Oxton. You saw Trivolx. Kairos is the one responsible for pulling you from the Void and granting you the ability to tame your time powers, lest they run rampant, contained in that chronal accelerator on your chest." The baleful purple gaze came to rest on Angela. "And you. Angela Ziegler, also known as Mercy, the combat medic revolutionizing the medicine industry. Sometimes, not for the best."

Angela's eyes were a cold, wrathful blue, looking at the Dragon with fury. She was pissed. Pissed that a Dragon, one who never bothered with the world and its endless machinations, would dare to assume that she was responsible for the perversion of her technology. And pissed that he was right.

The Dragon grinned, seemingly unabashed by their startled manner. "Pleased to make your acquaintance. I am Voremyas. A Dragon of… well, we have words in our language to describe what I mostly am. Roughly a spiritual or magical healer."

"Uh huh." Said Angela slowly. "Then why are you here?"

The Dragon waved off the question, holding his hand over Draconian. Soft blue light pulsed in his hand as he waved it over him. "Hmm. The Dreams again… Always the Dreams…"

"Um, Voremyas - that's your name right?- What exactly is wrong with Draconian? He never once got sick in front of us, or indeed said he could ever get sick. He was just… always healthy, y'know? So, why is he passed out or in a coma or whatever the hell you call this?" Lena seemed concerned, which struck Voremyas as amusing. And perhaps a bit proud for his brother, ever the solitary type.

The Dragon seemed to hum a tune in a deep guttural voice, a tune of bemusement as he kept shedding soft blue light over Draconian. "Peace, Ms. Oxton. I am aware you want to speak to Draconian about matters as of yet no one but yourself knows, and I'd wager I can hazard an accurate guess about what it is."

Angela looked at Lena, the mom attitude returning in an instant. "Lena Oxton. Is there something you were wanting to tell me?"

Lena squirmed right where she was, suddenly feeling uncomfortable in her own skin. She wanted to tell her - tell everyone - about her sexuality, about Amelie, about the Void, to whoever would listen.

But it would be easier having a confidant, however isolated, to help her ease out.

"I'll tell you Ang." Said Lena. "I promise. When I feel ready, I'll tell you." Angela seemed none too happy about, but nodded in understanding.

"Great." Growled Voremyas. "Now that we are done with the family talk, we can stop digressing and begin to speak freely. Take a seat, this will take a bit to discuss." Angela and Lena took a seat in two cushioned chairs, watching as the Dragon took his own seat, having stopped waving the light over Draconian. "As I said, I am a Dragon with abilities roughly analogous to spiritual or magical healing. One thing you need to understand about Draconian is that he is a being unlike no other. Half Dragon, half human. Hence his magic, bodily augmentation, premonition, even the color of his blood. Observe."

He rolled up the sleeve of his arm, drawing a small, thin dagger out of a hidden fold in his robes. He drew it across the skin of his forearm, which welled with a bright gold liquid. Voremyas continued, seeming bemused by their looks of further shock. "Golden blood." He gestured to Draconian. "Silver blood." He motioned towards Angela and Lena. "Scarlet blood. You see the tiers. Humans, of course, have the same scarlet blood as is natural. Dragons, due to the massive and inherent use of magic in our bodies, have golden blood, colored by the thousands of years of magic use, retaining it even when in human form. But Draconian…" He paused, looking at his brother's motionless body. "His is a mix of both. Silver blood. Less than Dragon, more than human. Able to use magic to a degree of use. More than any mage from our world, less than any Dragon. You see a pattern."

"Hold on." Interjected Lena. "That doesn't answer the question. Why is he in a coma?"

Voremyas continued, flexing his hand as the cut on his forearm healed in an instant. "Consider it magical backlash. See, Draconian is almost entirely paradoxical. His body is human, the soul a Dragon. And no, when you explain this to Hana, tell her it's not like Skyrim. And of course, his blood a mix. So, Draconian is a hybrid of all, created that way. However, when our world was created, Draconian was our brother, created, for eternity, as a half Dragon. Unable to fly, unable to assume our form, unlike how we can assume human forms. However, the contrasts of Dragon and human also lends him special powers, magic that no mage or Dragon can achieve, or indeed, match."

"Such as?" Angela seemed to be getting excited, wondering if it could at all applied to medical theory and practice. If Draconian had special powers, or indeed even the Dragons, she could possibly use them to further her research. That is, if they both agreed.

"Well… that's the thing. There are no specifics, and Draconian is… well, he is mostly reluctant to use those powers. I'm not sure if you noticed by now, but Draconian is not, and never has been, social. He spends a lot of time in our world in forests untouched by humans, and rarely by Dragons. He is most often found on the shores of a lake or river, with tall trees around him. Basically imagine a forest glade. There are a lot of those in our world, and that's where he generally wants to be. We, his brothers and sisters, disagree with his solitary views and continued isolation, but Draconian regardless continues."

"So, why is he here then?" Lena frowned in confusion. "If he's not one to socialize, what is he doing here?"

The Dragon grinned at the question, but shook his head. "Draconian is his own person. We do not tell him what to do, nor he us. But Draconian, as best as we can tell, came here to aid you and keep Overwatch from falling, lest the world fall to corruption, hopelessness and loss."

Angela scoffed, drawing the slightly surprised look of Voremyas. "Aid us? Draconian has been nothing but a hindrance to Overwatch, even before it was dismantled. And just when it did fall, he disappeared, and no one saw him, up until this point, until I was informed of his existence here. Draconian did nothing to save Overwatch, and he did nothing during its prime."

Voremyas seemed to growl slightly, his purple eyes glowing with intensity. "Did it not occur to you, Mercy, that perhaps Overwatch was meant to fall and that Draconian let it happen of his own volition?"

Angela's voice became hot with anger, her body tense with rage. "Let it happen? Why?! No reason is good enough to justify the downfall of a global peacekeeping force! Especially when it saved the world when no one else could! We ended the Omnic Crisis, established peace, disabled the Deadlock gang and the Shimada Yakuza! And now look! A second Omnic Crisis is brewing, Russia is preparing for war, multiple international gangs and organizations are springing up in the form of Los Muertos, Talon, Vishkar, and several other factions! Climate change is worsening when we were once fixing it, and London is a ticking time bomb of societal discontent after Mondatta was assassinated!"

"Be seated Mercy, and I will explain the reason why my brother let you fall into dissolution. Besides, all that good you listed didn't prevent you from saying anything against its dissolution." His voice left no room for argument or rebuttal.

"Now…" Said Voremyas calmly. "Draconian will have to explain exactly why this is, but to put it simply, Overwatch was destined, fated, to fall once. He knew this, and made sure to never overstep the bounds of letting it fall. However, he knew it would also come back together, and so let that be too. Listen to me closely when I say one should never… ever… tempt or manipulate fate. You know that lesson better than any Lena." The mousy haired Brit looked down solemnly, seeming abashed by his words.

"But there is another caveat. Draconian only knew of Overwatch's fate up to a certain point, meaning that from there on out, its fate could be shaped and influenced freely without repercussion. That moment was the Recall. Why do you think none of you saw him after that point?"

"Great." Spat Angela. "Is there anything else we should know? Any more discussions on fate and destiny?"

"If you are asking about whether I know anything more past this point in Overwatch's time, then no, I don't. Draconian is the one with premonition, not me. And second, Angela Ziegler, do not ever play God. That is a fate of unspeakable power… and destruction of self." His eyes lingered on the silver blood vial in her hands, which she hadn't put down.

"Wait." Said Lena. "So, how powerful exactly is Draconian if he has these… other powers? Have you ever seen them, or heard of them?"

Voremyas looked down, his eyes glassing over. "There was one instance. In a city that would be most similar to the Middle East, called Arakresh. Only two Dragons ever really saw it. Cromayla and Viarnost. They were in the city at the time of the Rending, as we call it. Being Dragons they were unaffected by the fallout - yes, the literal fallout - of that event. As far as we could gather, Draconian was in the city at the time when someone he had went to see, an old friend is all the detail I will share on this person, was murdered in front of him. What happened was… well, a contained nuclear explosion generated and augmented by magic and barely held within Draconian's body. An entire section of Arakresh is rendered inhospitable now. The people caught within the blast were atomized. If you've seen the photos of post nuclear Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the outlines were seared into concrete. It was the same as Arakresh."

Angela shivered visibly. "That… sounds terrible."

Voremyas nodded. "After, we constructed a barrier to keep people away and the… I don't know what you'd call it. Like a magical radiation… locked in."

"Did he ever feel regret? For the explosion?" Asked Lena.

"Again, I'm not entirely sure. Draconian left soon after we got him and was in no state to talk. His innate magic was in flux, and where he walked forests would wither, shadows would lengthen, and even the water became poisoned. Obviously he got better, but the effects of his surroundings reflected his personality quite starkly."

"How does he even do that?" Angela looked over at his restive figure, unmoving on the clinic bed. "Effect his surroundings I mean. I mean, his harp glows and can change shape. How does that work?"

The Dragon chuckled, closing his violent purple eyes. "Good observation Angela Ziegler. You are correct in that he does effect his surroundings, more often unwillingly than not. The harp is the best example. Whenever he got it, after a week in his presence, it began to whiten and change molecular structure. It's no longer wood, or metal, but it still feels like wood. Whenever he plays, it begins to glow red in the grains. He was never around Overwatch long enough at a single time to start affecting you, but in time, he would have. Who knows? Perhaps he still will." The purple eyes glittered brightly once more, the image of a Dragon's face appearing over the human one. Then it began to fade, until the Dragon was gone from the world once more.

Over on the bed, Draconian began to stir, gold eyes blinking awake.

"Damn it, Voremyas." He said.

….

Draconian's piercing eyes looked at Angela and Lena, freezing them in place as he looked around. He then broke eye contact, looking down almost sullenly. "How much did he tell you?" No answer. He sighed, pressing a palm to his forehead. "Look, guys. I know Voremyas. He wouldn't have told you more than was due without reason."

Angela and Lena shared a communal look, picked up by Draconian, who raised an eyebrow. "You caused an explosion. Accidentally killed some people. A friend was involved. Your introversion. Your world. Why you didn't stop Overwatch from falling." Lena said at last.

"Fate is a cruel, heartless, kick you while you're down son of a bitch." Said Draconian, his eyes glossing over from gold to dark blue. "But despite that, it must be obeyed to where it says it must be obeyed. Liao… I did not know the plans of her, what came of her. I assumed that it was an afterthought of Talon, and that Fate would decide her outcome. But it wasn't an afterthought was it?" He went quiet, his gaze pointed downward solemnly. "I can't explain that to people who have never seen outside this world. This dimension, if you will. From the Default, to Dracirir, to Respite. The three worlds defining my past and present, all are insignificant compared to the sheer vastness of it all. I am not a god. A hero. I am a traveler seeking only to help. But only within the laws of Fate. Denying that… leads to disaster."

"Who was your friend?" Asked Angela, seemingly genuinely curious, her air of disdain gone and her blue eyes free of hate.

Draconian sighed, and the blue eyes darkened further. "A friend." A sad chuckle forced its way up. "If only I could call Zailin anything more than a star. Beautiful and always admired from far away." He held up his hand, an image of a beautiful turquoise light filling his hand. It gathered into the shape of a young woman, her eyes shining with hazel light, intense but at the same time, subtle. Her hair was cut short, black and slightly upswept, and she was of average height and build. Her smile was radiant, filled with a joy in life. Seeing her, even Lena could sympathize why Draconian was always cold shouldered and brusque. Losing someone with such vitality could turn anyone irascible.

"What I am about to explain is extremely far fetched and long winded, but nonetheless true. In my world, Respite, people are reincarnated after death into completely new people with new personalities and looks and traits. Their spirits live on, each incarnation like a new page on a book. Except for her. Zailin is always, always reincarnated into the same person with same traits and personality. Never ending. Never changing. Stuck as the same person, unknown to her. And seeing her die. Over and over and over again. Cursed to see her. Over and over and over again, lest I fade away. And me…"

"The first world I call the Default. In that world, everything is… trivial. Mundane. No flair. No excitement. No true challenge besides the ever so present one of establishing yourself in a world that does not give a flying fuck about anything. But the important thing about the Default? Overwatch existed… in the form of a video game. And from what I could tell, all that I have seen in gaming, in literature, in realities created by others, came to life, separated into dimensions. What happened after the Default… I don't know. I call it the Rapture. I fell asleep one night in a room full of my Dragons, who were naught but statues then, and woke as a man named Cortleze, a self proclaimed lord of Dragons. He was older, but also infinitely more powerful, and arrogant. As the world of Cortleze, Dracirir, as we came to call it, progressed, an innate part of me became dissatisfied with his arrogance and the close utopia he created, rendering the Dragons useless for their purpose of making the world better and eventually disregarding them completely. But I, Draconian, remembered my place. And what caused the Rapture seemed to occur again in the form of the Change. And the third world, Respite, came to be, filled with the massive forests and mountains and streams and a smaller human population. And my family, the Dragons? They existed to live themselves, forever their own being. And I? Well, Cortleze was a part of me that was social, accepted, outgoing, boisterous and loud and proud. And I was the truer part. Isolated, introverted, quiet and wanting a peace by myself. But… my price for the change? Zailin. And bipolarism. And depression. And self loathing."

And Draconian was quiet as Angela and Lena's world expanded and looked at the world weary young man, the oldness in his eyes not at all exaggerated.

…

Draconian returned to his room, picking up his cape which began to glow under his touch again, slowly ebbing from blue to red to purple to green like a slowly pulsing LED light. He picked up the harp, playing it softly as the sun came up. As the dawn began to lighten, going from a bruised blue purple to a pink grey, he headed up to the helicopter landing pad where new recruits once practiced taking objectives during training. Watery red light began to bathe the Watchpoint in morning sunlight, the harp's embers turning blue in response.

"That is quite beautiful you know." Draconian stopped playing, turning to face Angela as she approached him.

Draconian grunted noncommittally,tuning the strings on the harp.

"I would like to say I'm sorry." She continued.

No response, only the mournful pluck of the string.

She sighed. "Draconian… I think I understand now. Voremyas, he said a lot of things to both me and Lena, things that helped clarify your stance."

Silence once more, and then he spoke. "Such as…?"

"Fate. Zailin. Playing God. Which I'll admit… is a bad habit of mine. And Liao. Why you let what happened happen."

"That does not mean I wanted it to happen."

"No. But then, I'm hardly able to judge after learning what I did."

Draconian turned away, looking at the rising sun, his face blank of emotion. "How many more are showing up to Overwatch? We have Genji, Zenyatta, McCree, and Lena. Who else?"

"We have a climatologist named Mei Ling Zhou who is on her way here from Beijing. A live streamer and pro gamer from South Korea who goes by the name of , real name Hana Song. She's enlisted in the military as a MEKA pilot to fight rogue Omnics. She's coming here as well. Also, how's your music tastes?"

"...Poor." Said Draconian after a brief reflection. At least he believed so.

"Hmm. Well, we're having another figure join us. A pop culture icon. Do you know what went on in Rio de Janeiro a few months back?"

"An uprising." Said Draconian. "Vishkar began to enslave and enforce harsh rules over the citizenry under the guise of trying to aid the people and clean up the favelas. It was led by Lucio Correia dos Santos, who stole sound based technology from Vishkar and led his people to victory in ousting their hold. If I am not mistaken he is now a world famous musician. I believe his most recent track is called Auditiva Synaesthesia."

"Well, Lucio is arriving here soon. We've set a window for how long new Overwatch agents will have to arrive here. After that we leave, and go into hiding."

"Do you have a location that can be used to house all the members of Overwatch under one roof, geographically suitable for hiding purposes and providing enough immediate resources to sustain them all?"

"Geez, Draconian now you sound like Winston." Chuckled Angela.

He raised an eyebrow, prompting her to answer the question. She sighed. "Yes. We have a location in Belgium, an undercover watch base that was never officially a part of the records of Overwatch. It's near enough to other locations and safehouses that we are able to pilfer technology in small amounts from there provided government surveillance isn't too high. Also, it was a big supporter of Overwatch back in its prime and even a supporter when we came under fire politically. And one more thing… Chocolate." Angela's eyes glazed over, apparently rapt with daydreams of chocolate."

"Angela." Draconian snapped his fingers, bringing her back to reality.

"Oh right." She said, her focus returning. "Well, besides Mei, Lucio, and Hana, I think that-"

"Pardon me, but are you the medic? Angela Ziegler?"

A tall, bronze skinned woman with a jet black hair and a wedjat tattoo symbol below her right eye walked on to the helipad where Draconian and Angela sat conversing. Draconian did not miss the look, however brief, of the same dreamy glaze that passed over Angela's eyes for half a millisecond. He in turn mentally rolled his eyes.

"Why, yes." Said Angela merrily. "Who might you be?"

"I'm Fareeha Amari. I saw the Recall notice and received a private message via mobile. I always wanted to join Overwatch but never got the chance while I was in the Egyptian military. Now I do have the chance to follow in my mother's footsteps." She puffed out her rather muscular chest, her facial features sharp and aquiline, and eyes as sharp as a sniper's.

A very peculiar sniper.

"Mother?" Said Angela.

Draconian slapped a palm to his forehead and sighed, stowing his harp under his cloak. "Seriously, Angela?"

It hit her suddenly. "Fareeha Amari. My, how time flies. Last I saw you, you were a scrappy teenager hell bent on joining Overwatch despite your mother's efforts to keep you out. You've changed!"

Fareeha nodded. "There are more people here downstairs, including Reinhardt and Torbjorn. Also a couple of socially awkward girls and a rather enthusiastic DJ." She looked past Angela towards Draconian's seated figure. "And who are you? I've seen you before, but only twice before Overwatch fell."

Draconian waved the question away. "I'll explain soon." He looked at Angela as he walked off the helipad back into the base. "I will make an announcement soon, should Winston not throw a fit about it. Reinhardt and Torbjorn will not be glad to see me again, and we need to make sure new recruits understand they are not staying here and the repercussions of being here now."

"Will you explain to them who you are?"

Gold eyes, always enigmatic and indiscernible, locked with blue ones. "Perhaps one day."

He retreated into the base, Fareeha looking at Angela in confusion. "What was that about?"

Angela shrugged, wishing she knew just what it was that made Draconian tick. "I wish I knew."