9 September 2076
As Scout slowly walked down the stairs, he heard the sound of the television playing what sounded like the news. He frowned and entered the living room, noticing Charles, Tracer, McCree, Spy, Demo, Dell, Heavy and Mercy all sitting around, staring intently at the flat-screen. He looked and saw an attractive, brunette female anchor with dark skin and striking hazel eyes sitting at a desk with a blue background and the words ATLAS UK in white in the corner of the screen.
"While little information has been released by London Police on the robbery of the Bank of England which was carried out earlier today, eyewitnesses claim that two criminals matching the descriptions of notorious thieves Jamison Fawkes and Mako Rutledge, more commonly known as Junkrat and Roadhog, are behind the robbery. Expect an update as soon as more information appears. Onto the next story, American presidential candidate Jackson Hale-" The anchor said. The screen went dark and Scout glanced around, noticing Charles holding a remote. He threw it down.
"Those are the guys we're here for, aren't they?" Scout asked. Charles nodded.
"It would be helpful if the police had released information on the robbery." Tracer commented.
"Yes, it would be. Fortunately, we have our own means of gathering information." Charles replied. "Spy."
"Yes?" Spy asked.
"We need to strike while the iron is hot. Go to Bank Junction and gather as much information as you can, however you need to, before the police make things too difficult. I'd rather we got our own version of events rather than what the police say." Charles said. Spy rolled his eyes.
"Of course. Won't be hard at all." Spy said.
"One more thing. Don't kill anybody unless you absolutely have to." Charles instructed. Spy raised an eyebrow.
"Why?" He asked.
"Corpses raise questions. Questions we don't want to be answering just now." Charles said. Spy sighed.
"That makes it harder. But understood. I'll go now." Spy said. Charles nodded and Spy turned and strode off briskly. Soon after, the sound of the front door opening and closing met Scout's ears.
"So, what are the rest of us doing?" Scout asked.
"Nothing, for tonight. Though my butler is also a talented cook, if anybody's hungry." Charles replied. Scout frowned.
"Yeah, about that butler. You've mentioned him a couple times, but I've never seen him around." He said.
"Maybe you would if you frequented any rooms other than this one and your bedroom." Charles said. "Kingsley!" He called. A few minutes later, a tall, thin man entered the room. He wore a long black tailcoat, dark grey slacks and a white button-up dress shirt with a bow tie. His face was long and hawkish, with elevated cheekbones, a sharp nose, pale skin and deep-set grey eyes. His black hair was short and slicked back.
"Yes, Sir Charles?" Kingsley asked, glancing around the room as all eyes fell on him.
"Scout here seemed to not think you even existed. Would you care to explain to him why that is?" Charles asked.
"Of course. It is common in my trade to be discreet and unobtrusive, to not... Get in the way." Kingsley said, looking at Scout. He spoke in a very refined, soft manner, though despite the relatively low volume of his voice, each word he spoke clearly carried throughout the room.
"Well... Alright." Scout said.
"Even so, one might benefit from the use of his eyes." Kingsley commented. "Is there anything else, Sir Charles?"
"Well, it's almost dinner time." Charles said.
"I was about to tell you that the pantry is rather poorly stocked at the moment, Sir." Kingsley said. "Though I am loathe to suggest it, at the moment a trip to the fish and chips shop down High Street would be a suitable alternative to me attempting to cobble something together from the meager scraps that we have at present." At this, Charles frowned, looking at everybody else.
"Any objections?" Charles asked. Nobody said anything and he shrugged. He reached into his pocket and pulled out set of keys, rising and handing them to Kingsley. "Not a scratch, Kingsley." He said.
"Of course, Sir." Kingsley said. He looked around. "If that's all, I'll be off." He said, slipping out of the room. Scout looked around.
"So, what should we do while we wait?" Scout asked. Charles furrowed his brow.
"If you want, I've still got some whiskey in the cellar, we can do shots." Charles said. "Just a few."
"At 7 o'clock, on a Wednesday, before we've had dinner?" Scout said, frowning. "What are you, some kind of alcoholic?"
"Yes." Charles said. "Who's in?"
"It's high noon..." McCree said, looking down at his wristwatch. They all looked at him in silence for a moment.
"It's... 7 o'clock." Dell said.
"It's high noon where I come from, buddy." McCree said, displaying his watch.
"You could perhaps adjust it to London time, for Christ's sake." Charles said. "I'll ask again, who'd like to do shots?"
"I'm in." McCree said.
"Yeah, I could go for a wee drop o' whiskey." Demo said, his voice a bit slurred. It sounded as if he had already had a few, but Charles seemed nonplussed as he rose to his feet and led the pair out of the room.
Bank Junction
Spy frowned as he examined the area from a rooftop. A police line had been made around the junction, with numerous police cars parked on the road to prevent traffic from coming through. Dozens of policemen patrolled the area, examining the scene of the crime. Spy could see several more within the bank itself. Just outside the building, a dozen men and women sat by a police car as an officer spoke to them. One of the women in the group looked like the woman in the dossier, Francesca Valenti. He looked carefully around, his eyes scanning every inch below him.
Then, he saw a policeman standing by the police line, staring out into space. He was a rather large man, with thick jowls, a brown handlebar mustache and a face redder than a fresh tomato underneath his helmet. In one hand, he held a half-eaten doughnut, in the other, a cardboard coffee cup. Knowing what to do, Spy slipped away from the edge and made his way down to the street.
After a short time, he was just under ten meters away from the fat officer, hiding behind the wall of a building to the left of the man. After a moment of preparation, Spy whistled a low, soft tune, just loud enough for the officer to hear.
"Oh, what's that, then?" Spy heard. The man had a higher voice than Spy expected and he sounded as though he was from Wales. Spy whistled again, just for a few seconds. The sound of footsteps met his ears and as they drew closer, he activated his cloaking device. Not a moment later, the officer turned the corner, frowning and looking around.
"Hello?" The officer called as Spy crept around him. "Who's there?" As he said this, Spy was directly behind him. The officer sighed, putting his hands on his hips and looking around timidly. Spy moved closer, not making a sound, until his left wrist clamped around the man's enormous throat as he moved his right hand over the officer's mouth to prevent him from crying out, dragging him behind the wall as his cloak vanished and the large man struggled, whimpering through Spy's iron grip and feebly slapping Spy in the side of the head. Gradually, the resistance grew weaker as Spy tightened his grip, the officer clawing at Spy's hands desperately. After a little while longer, the resistance ceased altogether and Spy let go. As the unconscious man fell, he caught him, grunting with exertion. He then gently lowered him to the ground, rose to his full height and straightened his jacket as smoke rose into the air around him and he shrunk in height, but grew in size. Spy looked down at the police uniform he now wore, adjusted the police helmet and cleared his throat.
As he strode out into the open and walked towards the police line, he glanced around. It looked like nobody within the area had noticed the disappearance of the officer. When he reached the police line, he ducked under it with some difficulty due to the immense bulk that he was unused to and strode briskly for Francesca. He stopped in front of her and she looked up wearily. She was quite an attractive woman, having tan skin, long blonde hair, sea green eyes and a rather petite frame.
"Hello." Spy said, sounding exactly like the officer he was disguised as.
"What is it?" She asked, rolling her eyes.
"I'd like to ask you some questions about the robbery." He replied.
"Surely your colleagues have everything they need to know, you could learn from them." She said.
"I'd prefer to hear it from you, love." Spy responded. She sighed.
"Fine. What do you want to know?"
"Well, let's start with the thieves. Can you describe them?" Spy asked.
"Most of them were wearing balaclavas. But two of them were those thieves from Australia that are all over the news." Francesca replied.
"Right, Junkrat and Roadhog. Now, did they steal anything from you, personally?" He inquired. Francesca narrowed her eyes.
"Yes, but you should know that already." She said warily.
"Just double checking. What did they steal from you?" He said.
"Two briefcases." She responded quickly. "Black."
"And... The contents of these briefcases?" He asked. She did not reply and he rolled his eyes. "We can't very well track down what was stolen if we don't know what it is. They won't be keeping it in the cases, you know."
"They contained... Personal affects." She said, avoiding meeting his eyes.
"And what, exactly, was the nature of these personal affects?" Spy pressed. She scowled and opened her mouth to reply but before she could, a voice called out.
"Oi, Gareth! What the hell are you doing?" A man yelled. Spy scowled, turning around to see a tall, broad-shouldered and handsome officer approaching.
"Questioning the-" Spy began.
"Ah, fuck off, we've already asked her everything we need to know." The man said.
"I just thought-"
"No! No, you didn't think anything!" The man yelled. "Get moving, you fat bastard! Go!" With little choice left to him, Spy walked away, soon reaching the police line. He glanced around and when he was certain nobody was looking, dropped the disguise and cloaked, vanishing into a puff of smoke.
Scout belched as he finished his dinner, tossing aside the wrappings and looking around as the others ate. When Kingsley had returned, only Charles had come back up from the cellar and the only one who had finished eating before Scout was Heavy, who sat now in silence with his arms folded over his chest. As Scout made eye contact with Heavy, the larger man inclined his head to the archway and rose. After a moment's hesitation, Scout also stood and followed Heavy into the hall.
"What is it?" Scout asked.
"The cowboy man." Heavy said. Scout rolled his eyes.
"Man, don't even get me freakin' started." He said, putting a foot on the staircase. Before he could ascend any higher, Heavy put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him back down.
"Get bat. Is time." Heavy told him. Scout frowned for a moment, before realization hit him. He grinned and nodded, running up the stairs and down the hallway to his bedroom. When he reached it, he entered, retrieved his baseball bat and came back down. Heavy was still there when he arrived and the enormous Russian led the way to the stairs leading down into the cellar.
"After you." Scout said. Heavy shot him an icy glare and Scout went down first, taking the stairs two at a time until he reached the doorway into the cellar. He took a deep breath and opened it, stepping in. He found himself in a large hall with row upon row filled with barrels, cases and bottles of various alcoholic beverages. In the middle of the hallway there was a long table with half a dozen chairs around it and two empty bottles of whiskey. Demo was passed out on the table while McCree stood, a shot glass filled with whiskey in hand. McCree nodded at him, downing the shot and putting the glass on the table.
"Howdy." McCree said, wiping his mouth as Scout stepped closer. Scout glanced behind him and saw Heavy had followed. The two walked up to the table and stood, staring at McCree for a second.
"So, what brings you down here?" McCree said.
"We got a bone to pick with you, pal." Scout said.
"Soldier and Pyro." Heavy said. "Our comrades. You kill them."
"Well, yeah. Didn't really have a choice, partner. It was me in an alley with them and Tracer, either them or-" McCree began. Heavy growled and slammed his fists on the table. Demo stirred, but did not wake.
"No. You have choice. You flashbang us. You kill Soldier and Pyro." Heavy snarled.
"Yeah. They were our friends, psychos that they were." Scout said, inspecting his bat.
"Listen, I'd like to... Explain things better..." McCree said, slowly backing away. "But I am a little inebriated right... Aw, hell." He said as Heavy flipped the table over, hurling it to the side and sending Demo sprawling onto the floor. Somehow, this did not wake him. He simply mumbled something about sea monsters.
"Now, hold on." McCree said, stepping back. But Heavy did not listen, sprinting at McCree, grabbing him by the throat and slamming him into the cobblestone wall. McCree gasped in pain and struggled for air as Heavy held him there and Scout approached. With his other hand, Heavy slugged McCree across the face, snapping his head to the side and sending the stetson hat flying. McCree spat blood from his mouth as Heavy released him, sliding down the wall and massaging his jaw as he looked up. Scout gripped his bat tightly with both hands and slammed it into McCree's gut as he began to stand again. McCree coughed and spluttered as he fell to his knees, gripping his belly and struggling for air. Scout smashed his bat into McCree's shoulder, sending him sprawling with an audible crack. McCree groaned, rolling onto his back and looking up at them through narrowed eyes, his lips bloody. The two stood over him as he rolled over and attempted to rise, using his hands to prop himself up. His left hand gave out under him, the side of him Scout had hit. As he lay there, Heavy delivered a savage kick to McCree's nose, shattering it and sending a spray of blood onto the floor.
"Stand up, coward." Heavy snarled, grabbing McCree's hair and dragging him to his feet. McCree stood facing them, his face covered in blood, squinting, his left arm limp by his side as he raised his right fist defensively.
"I could... Could do this all day..." McCree said, lunging forward with a clumsy punch which Scout easily sidestepped. McCree staggered forward, whipping around and receiving a blow to the gut from Scout's bat for his trouble. He went crashing back down to the ground, moaning softly in pain.
"Well, he's got balls, gotta give him that." Scout said. Heavy looked down at him, scowling.
"JUST WHAT THE HELL DO YOU TWO THINK YOU ARE DOING?!" Came an enraged roar from the door. The two looked up to see Charles, standing with his cane, staring in fury at them. Behind him stood Tracer and Mercy. Tracer rushed into the room to McCree's side.
"Jesse!" She cried, looking at him as Charles and Mercy advanced slowly on Heavy and Scout.
"You had better start explaining, right now." Charles said.
"He uh... Killed our friends." Scout managed, backing away.
"Well, you should have FUCKING THOUGHT OF THAT BEFORE YOU BLOODY WELL JOINED OVERWATCH!" Charles roared.
"Jesse, are you alright?" Tracer said. McCree sat up, clutching his shoulder and looking around.
"I've had worse." He managed, his breathing strained. Tracer looked at Scout.
"Scout, what the fuck?" She hissed. Scout was quite taken aback and he looked desperately to Heavy.
"Has... Has she ever cussed before?" He muttered.
"I should think that her choice of words is the least of your concerns, you stupid bastard." Charles said in a low voice, stepping toward them. He stood less than a meter away from Heavy, who met his furious gaze fearlessly. The two men stared each-other down, neither backing off. "Doctor, give McCree an examination. Miss Oxton, help Doctor Ziegler get him out."
"Right." Tracer said, helping McCree up with Mercy. The two helped him out, an arm around each of them, leaving Scout, Heavy and Charles alone with the unconscious form of Demo. After a minute of silence, Charles turned and stepped away, breathing heavily.
"I should have had you all shot while I had the bloody chance." He growled. "But now, it's too bloody late, you're my subordinates. For fuck's sake, you couldn't have kept it to yourselves..." He muttered.
"You should not have made us work with that man. You should have sent him away, to be with some other team." Heavy said. "We could have tolerated Pyro. But Soldier was our comrade. And you make us work with his killer."
"You couldn't have brought up these concerns before, when you were making the decision to bloody join us?" Charles hissed, whipping around. "Your sniper friend, when he was having his little rant and storming off to God knows where, you don't think that might have been a good time to bring up your concerns?"
"You were threatening to shoot us." Scout said. "This might come as a shock to you, but we're not stupid."
"Then how would you describe the last ten minutes?" Charles said. "I've seen malfunctioning Omnics with better sense than you two idiots. My nephew, back when he was just a little baby, he had more intellect than you morons."
"Do not make me-" Heavy began, before being cut off by Charles banging the end of his cane on the ground repeatedly.
"Enough!" He yelled. "You are both going to stop talking to me right now! You are going to go upstairs, apologize profusely to McCree for assaulting him while I figure out just what the fuck to do with you two!"
"Wait, what?" Scout said.
"Hop to it!" Charles snapped. Scout looked at Heavy and then shrugged, walking swiftly across the room. Before he reached the stairs, he heard a mumbling sound and turned to see Demo sitting up, rubbing his eye and looking around.
"What'd I miss?" He slurred.
Charles paced the sitting room as fast as his limp would allow. Kingsley stood in the corner, observing as Charles muttered under his breath.
"Stupid bastards... Couldn't have..." He muttered, gripping his cane tightly and stopping as he heard a knock on the front door. "Kingsley, could you?" He asked.
"Right away, Sir." Kingsley said, slipping out and returning a moment later with Spy in tow.
"Ah, you're back. I trust you learned something of value?" Charles asked, anger still evident in his voice.
"Something, yes. Is something wrong?" Spy asked.
"Scout and Heavy accosted McCree earlier. Now he has a bruised trachea, nine fractures and a broken nose and shoulder. Your Medic is refusing to help him and Doctor Ziegler does not possess advanced enough technology to make him ready for action in time for anything we need to do, so yes, I'd say something is wrong. What did you learn?" Charles said.
"I wasn't able to find out what was stolen from Miss Valenti, but I managed to cloak and get a look at her phone before I left. She's been speaking with somebody called Azure and is apparently meeting him tonight to deliver something of value to him." Spy said.
"It could be more of whatever Junkrat and Roadhog stole from her." Charles mused.
"Indeed." Spy said.
"Did you manage to see where they're meeting?" He asked.
"Tilbury Docks, she said." Spy replied. "At midnight."
"If you mean to intercept them, Sir, I would advise you make your plans and hurry. It's nearly nine." Kingsley said.
"Right. We'll need a small team, can't send the entire group in or else we'll get their attention and scare them off before we find out what they're doing." Charles said. "But large enough to fight, if the need should arise."
"In that case, I recommend you send Scout, myself and one other person. Scout can be stealthy if he needs to, but is able to put up a fight if he must." Spy said. Charles pursed his lips, folding one hand behind his back.
"After what happened with McCree-" Charles began.
"Does not matter. He would be the best pick for this task." Spy said. Charles scowled.
"Fine. I'll send you, Scout, Tracer and Medic. Kingsley, if you could bring them here." He said,
"Of course." Kingsley said, quietly leaving the room. He returned five minutes later with Tracer, Scout and Medic in tow. Scout looked at Charles and then Spy nervously, shuffling his feet like a schoolboy being scolded by the teacher.
"I want you all to take a car and head to Tilbury Docks. Miss Oxton, I trust you know the way?" Charles said.
"Yeah. I grew up in the East End." She responded. "Why are we going there?"
"I have reason to believe that Francesca Valenti will be there, meeting up with a person I assume is her contact from Talon. I want you to find out what they're doing and, if possible, stop it. Scout, if you don't screw this up, I might reconsider punishing you for what you did to McCree." Charles explained. Scout frowned and opened his mouth to speak, but seemed to think better of it as he closed his mouth and nodded.
"Alright. Keep in radio contact and good luck to you." Charles said. The four of them nodded and left the room, leaving Charles alone with Kingsley.
"Do you think they'll be successful, Sir?" Kingsley asked. Charles shrugged.
"As long as they find out what Miss Valenti is giving to Talon, I don't care." He said.
Author's Note: Hey, all! My long hiatus is finally over! Sorry for that, just needed to take some time off to enjoy the holidays (which are a bit longer here in Australia than they are for most of you readers). I'll be returning to my regular upload schedule, so be sure to keep your eyes out every two weeks for a new chapter. Apologies for the shorter than usual chapter, as well, though the next one will probably be of a normal length.
Also, I now have a Twitter account which I'll be using for story updates. Check my profile for my name on Twitter and once I have some followers, I'll start tweeting to let you all know how chapters are going.