Old Habits Die Hard | Epilogue
Author's Note:
Sorry that I posted this one late, folks. School was a bitch, and I have been trying my best to hold up my academic standing, which is just average. Obviously, I wasn't doing good enough.
I'd like to say that I've appreciated every review so far. It's nice to know that some of you took the time to tell me something about my story, even if you were to already walk out the "proverbial door". Here are my responses;
MXC- Thanks for answering my question. I'm glad you were able to appreciate my story.
Guest (chapter 2, Aug. 2)- Sorry, but I have to use that as a clear indicator of perspectives being changed. Thank you for liking my story.
ticoco- Yeah, characters that already exist in canon are good enough material to use in a story, especially in such a vast world like Overwatch. Each hero has so much potential, especially when it comes to filling the blanks in their background. And thanks for saying that my fic is easy on the eyes; I try to keep it as simple as possible so as to let the readers imagine what is left in a way that they like. And from what I've seen, huge walls of unnecessary text is really a turn-off.
Guest (chapter 3, Aug. 4)- Thanks for saying I've got Lena and Jack down nicely. I'll try to see what I need to work on with Winston. You're answer to why Self-Inserts usually suck is really detailed- and I appreciate you for that. And I know that if I were to be tossed into some other universe that is much different from our own, I would be dead within the first few days or so- just like most other people. But a man can dream, yeah?
Anyway, here is the epilogue. It's been quite a ride, and I'm happy that I was able to please at least some people. More details on what I feel will be told below.
ooOoo
Mark Lang bit his lip as he glanced at the burning city behind him. What a disaster.
A few hours ago, reports of a cybernetic dragon attacking King's Row came in, catching the world's attention. Immediately the local police force was summoned to evacuate the civilians out of town, and to restrict them from entering its borders.
They weren't able to go into King's Row themselves, due to the higher ups telling them that it would be the army that'll be actually investigating the scene. They still haven't arrived.
So here they were all, now- holding back thousands of distraught and terrified citizens from the flaming ruins once known as King's Row.
He, himself- a rookie officer- was tasked as one of the police members to hold back the smaller but rowdier bunch of citizens, who were roaring to be let through.
With sadness, he noted that these people were those who brought themselves in as the ones who were missing family members in King's Row. Mark's gaze was drawn to a woman lying on the ground and crying on her husband's shoulder, crying out the name of her daughter.
He wasn't able to watch them longer when an angry man rammed at his shield, and he almost stumbled. He pushed back, managing to bring the larger man a few steps back.
"Sir, the army will be coming in a few minutes," he said, trying to take the uncertainty out of his voice. He considered himself to be failing at that. "You'll see who you want to see soon."
"How the fuck can I be with my wife sooner when you assholes are just standing here?" the man bellowed, rushing forward to toss a burly shoulder at the shield. It impacted, and he barely managed to align himself with the rest of the shielding officers still.
He sighed. I feel that this is the best police officers receive these days- flak for being incompetent retards.
Which might be true. But he wasn't about to quit his job- the pay was good, after all.
Suddenly, wind whipped at his back. Not the breeze kind of wind, but the gale kind. It was also at that moment when the angry mob before him stopped and actually took a few steps back. However, their sights were at something up behind him.
He flinched when a stronger wind blew through his body, and he turned around to almost drop his shield. A dropship that was unlike the design of any other aircraft he's seen was hovering before him and his fellow cops, its jets sending blasts of air everywhere. With a high-pitched whine, it slowly described to the ground, and upon landing kicked up a cloud of dirt that made Mark raise his shield.
A ramp-like door on its back opened, and he noted that it was just directly in front of him when it crashed into the ground. Dirt flew at his face, and this time he was sent to a coughing fit.
When he opened his eyes, he found that a masked man with a rather large pulse rifle on his back was standing in front of him. Mark swept his eyes over the man's tall form- a vest of red, blue, and white, close-cropped white hair, and a crimson visor that was intimidating to look at.
His heart was gripped with ice when he connected the dots- this was Soldier 76, one of the most wanted vigilantes in the world. And a little girl was beside him, holding his gloved hand.
Behind him, to his side, was a young woman who was wearing a brown flight jacket and had orange spandex around her legs. Her hair was a brown and spiky mane while orange goggles were over her eyes. Tracer, former Overwatch agent- suspected murderer of peacekeeping idol Tekharta Mondatta.
Opposite to her was an omnic-like being, gray metal plates covering its body. A black bandana was wrapped around its head, where a green visor was looking at him.
Before he could react to who the people are in front of him, Soldier 76 spoke with a gruff voice; "We're here to return this kid."
"ALEXANDRA!" A woman ran into Mark's line of vision, immediately followed by a man. It was the couple he saw previously.
As the woman crouched and opened her arms, the girl let go of Soldier 76's hand and rushed into her chest right after. "Mum! Dad!"
The man also bent down to wrap his arms around the two, all of them smiling with tears in their eyes.
The three of them stayed there a while longer, the child's face buried on her mother's chest while the woman repeated her name as she seemed to hug her tighter.
After a while, the father looked up and into the masked face of Soldier 76, who had been watching them. He pulled his wife and daughter up, and the latter two immediately walked back, the woman carrying her daughter as they went back to the crowd of people. The father stayed to continue looking at Soldier 76, who stared back.
Mark spotted the man's lips make a silent "thank you". The vigilante replied with a slight dip of his head.
When the man turned around and walked off as well, Soldier 76 spun around and began marching back into the dropship, along with Tracer and the bandana-wearing omnic.
Alarm bells rang in Mark's mind, reminding him of how disastrous it could be to let these high-priority individuals leave. Which prompted him to step forward and speak with as much authority as he can.
"Stop." It was a tiny and hoarse sound, at best. He couldn't be blamed, really; Soldier 76's tall build was an intimidating sight.
The three immediately stopped, with the vigilante in front of hip whirling around to give him a look. He felt like soiling his pants, but instead he stood to his full height as best as he can. Soldier 76 was still taller, though.
"B-by the"- The vigilante's shoulders tensed, and he gulped-"order t-the law, you and Tracer are to surrender yourselves f-for the crimes you have committed."
"And you think you're going to make us, punk?" Soldier 76 snapped immediately, taking a step forward as a growl rumbled out of him. Mark barely swallowed a gasp and took a step back, managing to not fall to his rear.
"Now you stop right there, jackass!" a familiar voice said, and Chief Keith walked into the space between him and the vigilante. He leaned forward to stuck his face right in front of Soldier 76's, a deep frown tugging at his lips. "Ya'll are the ones smuggling weapons and killing monks, so what the hell makes you think you can push us around, chump?"
Mark let a sigh of relief escape his lips. Chief Keith was a strict and harsh man, so he was better suited to take on an imposing figure like Soldier 76.
Said vigilante never flinched during the chief's entire tirade. In fact, a growl that sent shivers rolling down his spine emanated from the man. Even Chief Keith had to take a step back when Soldier 76 leaned forward, his form completely towering over the pudgy officer's own.
"If you didn't notice, there aren't any roars coming from King's Row anymore," the vigilante said in a dangerously low tone. "We"- He swept his arm to Tracer and the omnic- "helped with that. And your army hasn't even arrived yet. We also brought a little girl back to her parents when your fat ass wasn't here to yell at my face yet. So what gives you the right to take us in when you and your buddies haven't done anything at all until now?"
Officer Keith didn't answer back, which was first to Mark. This guy definitely shouldn't be messed with.
"No answer?" Soldier 76 pulled back, but his crimson red visor stayed trained on the chief. "Then you better damn leave us alone, punk."
The vigilante turned and stomped into the dropship, followed by the omnic and an amused-looking Tracer. Moments after the ramp closed, the aircraft rose to the air and flew off, leaving a cloud of dirt in its wake.
Mark covered his mouth to avoid having to cough. Meanwhile, Chief Keith remained still- just as he was when Soldier 76 began his rant.
ooOoo
Atlas News
LIVE
It's 5:30AM, and the army has finally arrived to take stock of the situation. Most of the once missing people have made their own way out of King's Row, and have been appropriately examined by the medical team.
However, that isn't the biggest piece of news we have in our grasp- an unregistered dropship had landed on the scene around half an hour again, which held two of the most infamous individuals talked about in the media- Tracer; a former Overwatch agent suspected with murder, and Soldier 76; a man who began invading work-renown military bases just after the fall of Overwatch. There was also a humanoid-looking omnic that we have no clue whose identity is.
Alexandra Clark, one of the previously missing people, was said to be in their custody before she was released to her family. Soon after, the two criminals and one unknown figure fled the area. Police were unable to track their destinations up until now.
There has been speculation of their involvement with the recent dragon attack, and most conclude with them as helping with said act of terrorism. We interviewed Alexandra Clark, who was the one held "hostage" by these individuals, to see what she had to say;
"I don't think they're bad people," the little girl said with a smile, "Soldier 76 protected me the entire time I was lost, and all of them made the people in black go away."
The "people in black" she mentioned are currently being talked about by plenty of people. However, that will be delved upon in another moment of newscasting. Until we have more information, this is Anna Kellington of Atlas News. Have a good morning and stay safe, folks.
ooOoo
A week later...
Jack sat on his bed, staring at the mirror sitting upon the desk against the wall a meter away. The room was dark, but light seeping past the curtains was enough to reveal his reflection's entirety.
He first looked at his close-cropped hair, a white shadow of its former radiance. A thought occurred to him that made a tiny smile grown on his face. At least I don't have to worry about getting a bedhead.
His eyes traveled down to his forehead, stopping at the beginnings of a pink scar. Slowly, he trailed down its length, which went over one of his blue eyes. It finally ended just below his lips, on the other side of his face.
Memories of where the scar came from surfaced, and he sighed. It wasn't even during the fall of Overwatch- no, that was a slow and depressing process that began weeks ago. This was the clincher.
A small part of his mind told him that it was time to forget about that. He snorted. Except I can't. It's too horrible a thing to not be reminded about every waking day.
Then it'll be harder on the way to becoming a hero again, the voice at the back of his head argued.
He froze. On the mirror, he saw the muscles on his arms rippling as his fists clenched. Who said I'm trying to be a hero again?
The face of Alexandra flashed through his mind, and he recalled the words he said to her. He sucked a breath, then released it in a sigh. One that sounded more like a growl.
He glanced at the alarm clock on the stand beside his bed. It was just about time for breakfast. And I'd rather do that than drown in these damn thoughts.
He put on the usual; a black shirt overlaid by jacket-slash-vest and pants. He rose and began walking to the desk, ignoring the small sting of pain from his foot. It's a good thing she's here, or else it would have took much longer to heal.
His mask lied on the desk's surface, its red visor staring at him impassively in its dull sheen. His hand was just hovering above it when he thought about going out without it.
He shook his head with a grunt. If I ever considered that, then this isn't the day.
Now the visor glowed crimson, as it was on his face and he needed vision. He looked up at the mirror, and he saw the man that the world grew weary of for the past five years.
I ought to not think more about that. He turned, then walked out of the room in silence. He didn't to turn off the lights, for it was already dark. An image of the being he encountered a week ago entered his mind, and he still couldn't help but shudder.
ooOoo
Breakfast was a dull event. Besides the others catching up with the recently re-recruited agent, nothing caught his interest.
Jack remembered how Yuan found it odd that he ate with the mask covering half his face, and the thought of not wearing it at all entered his mind. Again, not happening for now.
He was in the mood for a jog, so when he emptied his plate put it on the counter he immediately left the cafeteria. With no thugs around to knock in the head, it's a morning ritual at this point.
As he walked through a hallway, he found interest in a large board attached to the wall. When he saw what it was, he couldn't help but sigh.
Every watchpoint had a method of remembering Overwatch agents who had died in their service, and Gibraltar's was a large board stuck to the wall just on the way out of the cafeteria. Multiple plaques lined its surface, and in them the names of deceased Overwatch members shined in gold. Jack's eyes were drawn to the latest one, which Winston crafted to the best of his skill.
YUAN KUIZON, AGE 18
In memory of his brief time in Overwatch, where he devoted the truest and best of his abilities.
"Commander Morrison!"
It was a voice that he had been recently reacquainting with, and he turned to face its owner, who seemed to have followed him from the cafeteria.
Her running came to a stop, and Angela Ziegler began to fix her white coat with a huff. Once she was done, her eyes went up to meet his, and a frown came to be in her angelic features.
"Wirklich, Kommandant." She shook her head in an exasperated manner. "Ever since I've come back, I've been seeing you escape the cafeteria after every meal you finish. What's with that, hm?"
He made to chuckle, but it never came out. Instead, he shook his head. "I'm just an old man who's excited for jogging and the shooting range most of the time. And I'm not the commander anymore."
"I would not recommend that you jog in your age, but I feel that there's nothing else for you to do in this place." She took a few steps forward, closing the distance until the board faced both of their bodies. Her lips quirked up in a smile. "I could feel the same, actually. There's nothing much to do when you're the head of a department that has no personnel."
He hummed, but it came as more of a rumbling from the throat than anything. Angela turned to the board, her eyes narrowing upon training on Yuan's plaque.
"So what's the story on this junge?" she asked. "Besides Lena's selfie with him, I've not seen nor heard much of the man. He's a bit too young to serve an organization like Overwatch, don't you think?"
"He was a fine warrior, actually," he responded immediately. More of the boy's strange background came to him, and he felt odd to speak it out loud. "He's... out of this world."
Angela raised a brow. "Oh?"
He pursed his lips, and he was thankful that she couldn't see through the mask. I must look ridiculous. "Literally. Like, he's not from this world."
"Oh." Her eyes flitted to the ceiling, and she puckered her lips, as if in thought. "Winston's still odder."
He smiled. Another thing Angela couldn't see. "Whatever you say."
She nodded, and he spotted the twinkle in her eyes. He remembered that- she usually adopted that when she was doing or had ideas about big projects. It's most likely that she's just going to drill me with questions.
"What was he like?" Angela asked, her head tilted in a questioning manner.
For some strange reason, it was their talk in the training room that came to his mind. He sucked a breath and resisted the urge to look down. "He was a good man."
Immediately the twinkle in her eye was gone, and Angela stepped forward with a frown on her face. "Jack? Are you okay?"
"Don't call me Jack," he immediately spat out. He cursed himself for that practiced reflex, and this time his visor did train on the ground.
Shoes stepped into his vision, and he looked up to see that Angela had closed the distance between them. She leaned forward as she looked him over, as if scanning for any injuries. All the while, a deep frown marred her features. Something like that shouldn't be on her.
He sighed and pressed two fingers against his temples. "To answer your question- no, I'm not."
She huffed and crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing at him. "Well, then. What's wrong?"
Silence dominated the hallway. He bit his lip as his mind raced with thoughts. What should I say to her?
His mouth answered without thinking; "Do you think I'm still wanted?"
Angela leaned back, as if the question was a hook from left field. "What?"
He sighed and ran a hand through his head. I can't get out of this now, can I?
"I mean... Jack Morrison," he said slowly, such as how his mind was moving- processing words like it couldn't believe it was. "Would it really matter if he came back to the world? Isn't it fine that he just stays a man that had been put down, and is actually under that gravestone honoring him?"
The words coming out of his mouth could've made him fall over in shock, yet an unknown source of willpower kept him standing.
Angela looked at him for a few seconds, her face completely devoid of emotion. It was like she was in a completely different world.
Then her features softened; her brows, her eyes, her mouth- everything about her. She now appeared to be someone that entirely generates sympathy.
"Jack," she said. He flinched at the softness of her tone, like she was actually speaking to the man. She sighed and shook her head. "Soldier 76. It's not a matter of desire, but of what is necessary."
He remained silent, opting to continue staring at her. Angela appeared entirely comfortable with that, judging by her smile.
"Personally, I think you've let too much of that former glory into your head." She giggled. Then she laid a hand on his shoulder. "It depends if you want to feel like the man who's served Overwatch for decades. What matters is that you continue your duty to serve the people in the best way you can.
"And..." She gave him a smile that was brighter than her previous ones. "I also personally think that you're still a hero. As long as you seek justice like Jack Morrison, I won't think of you much differently from the man I worked with years ago."
His mind froze at the information she told him- or rather, it began to work at a pace similar to how a snail moved. He could literally feel the cogs attempting to turn, and he could just get a migraine from it all.
But he didn't. There was a light at the end of the tunnel; a hope that he could still be hailed as the hero he was previous. That, despite his old age, he could still be Jack Morrison- not the leader, but the staunch and loyal supporter of Overwatch.
Again, his talk with Yuan in the training room flashed through his mind. Looks like the kid really knew his stuff, after all.
His train of thought ended with Angela's voice snapped him back to reality; "Hallo? You there?"
He shook his head to clear his mind, and he took amusement in the fact that Angela almost jumped back. "Er... Wow."
She giggled. "Indeed. How are you, Soldier 76?"
He found some ice still thawing on his brain, and he shook his head some more to get rid of it. "Still reeling from that speech you gave. I guess it could be called incredible."
She grinned and puffed her chest out. "I'd have to have good ones when it comes to delving in psychiatric discussions with my patients."
He grinned in reply, and it was a second later that he realized she wouldn't be able to see it. Maybe one day, I can walk amongst friends without having to wear this mask.
He nodded to her, hoping it was a good enough response. She smiled, an action that stirred a warm feeling within him and probably many others. "So now, Soldier. How are you feeling?"
He chuckled. "A lot better now. Thanks, Doc."
Maybe with enough work... he thought to himself. Even if I'm an old man, I could still be the hero I used to be.
ooOoo
"Ah, Master Hand. Nice morning."
"Hello to you as well, Yuan. I suppose you're wondering why I called you here today."
"I wouldn't be surprised if it's about that world I got in. We really hadn't talked about it much yesterday; after all, I was riding a robot dragon when I came back to this universe."
"Thank Nintendo we took care of that. Now, let's talk about the inhabitants you interacted with."
"Oh, I didn't change anything much. There was this group I was with for a while- I can tell that they're still going strong without me."
"And why is that?"
"Well, I met this guy. He had some problems, but I knew he could be greater if he overcame them. So it's safe to say I left them in the right hands..."
FIN
ooOoo
Author's Note:
Well, it's finally the end of the road for this story. I really appreciate that you put effort into finishing this read; it's been real enjoyable for me.
I'd like to give a shout out to some people and objects for helping me throughout the journey of making this story;
My younger sister, for being an indirect proofreader-slash-editor for chapters 1-8. You were really a big factor when it came to encouraging me to continue this, as it got you to be more interested in the world of Overwatch. This made me happy, as I love to show new and interesting things to people.
*She actually has an account here. AKUltiWarrior, and her story "Poison Rain" isn't exactly canon with how I imagine me and my sister's adventures with the Smashers are. (In case you wanted to know, lol)
My bed, for supporting me (literally, and I'm heavy) during this entire time. My ass isn't the greatest around, so I commend you for holding it up, you lovely bastard.
My school's library, for offering a quiet and peaceful area to write some bits of this story. The staff who work there have mixed reactions to my using a cellphone during school hours, but I'll give them an acknowledgement as well.
Those who offered reviews, for reminding me that real people are reading my story. You really drilled it into me that I've got some people to please, and I can safely say that I delivered.
And last but not the least, to our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. You have given me the God-given talents to be encouraged to write this, and for that I appreciate You. And let's throw in my mum because genes.
This is the first fanfic I've published online, and I plan for this to not be the last. Let's pray I get more material to write about, yeah?
As always, criticism (not flames) is appreciated. MrEpic3000 out.