"Here."

Jesse took the paper bag from Hanzo, not breaking stride as he tested its weight. Somewhat heavy, pleasant aroma. "What is it?" He asked as they walked away from Winston's lab.

"Dessert."

A grin stretched over his face. "Before noon? You're spoilin' me."

Hanzo huffed. "Just because I give them to you does not mean you must eat them immediately. Show some restraint."

"'Round your cookin'? I don't think so."

Jesse opened the bag to find it absolutely stuffed with mochi. Which was a... minor disappointment, because the rice cake treats needed special equipment to make, equipment Jesse knew the base didn't have. Beggars can't be choosers, though. So they weren't homemade, so what? They'd still be delicious.

"Where did you buy mochi around here?" He asked, taking one out and popping it into his mouth. Oh! Filled with red bean paste. He loved red bean paste.

"I made them."

Jesse coughed, trying to dislodge prematurely-swallowed mochi from his throat. "You what? Don't you need a bunch of special equipment to make these?"

"I would not say 'a bunch'."

"But you do need some. Where-" Internet, obviously, better question was- "When the hell did you get mochi-makin' supplies?"

"I ordered them shortly after Genji's return from Antarctica. He," Hanzo paused, then hurriedly muttered out the rest. "Likes the ones with strawberries."

"Awww. What a good older brother."

"Shut up."

Jesse popped another mochi in his mouth, humming in delight. "I'm allowed to bring these in with me, right?"
"I cannot imagine anyone telling you no."

"Other than you, you mean."

"Why would I forbid it? I am the one who gave them to you."

"I dunno, you don't think it's unprofessional to bring food to an interrogation?"

"Consolidating information is hardly the same as an interrogation," Hanzo sniffed.

Jesse chuckled. "Dunno why you didn't go into politics. You're great at dodging questions."

"The Yakuza life is essentially political," Hanzo said, opening the door to the detention cells. "My clan ran an entire city."

"More cutthroat, though, yeah?"

Hanzo laughed humorlessly. "No, not at all."

"Huh." Jesse paused at the steel door to the room Morrison was in. "So is that a yay or nay to bringin' my mochi in?"

"Will you be sharing?"
"With you?" He didn't want to, but Hanzo did make them, so he supposed-

"With Morrison."

Oh. "No."

"Then leave the bag here."

Jesse hesitated, looking between the bag and the cold floor.

"McCree," Hanzo warned impatiently.

Jesse hugged the bag close to his chest. "Fine, I'll give him one. If I leave 'em out here, Genji might nab the whole thing."

"A wise decision."

Jesse couldn't tell if Hanzo was being sarcastic or not, but really, what would the difference be?

"For clarification," Hanzo continued, "since Winston afforded us little time to prepare, I will lead the questioning. I do not need your interference."

"Just stand there and look pretty, then? Got ya covered."

"I am sure you will have no issue with the standing aspect."

"Rude."

Hanzo pushed open the door and Jesse mentally braced himself for the inevitable headache this meeting would give him. Morrison sat on one side of a metal table, slouched and arms crossed. His mask was off, nothing to shield his ugly, scowling mug from the world. Jesse scowled back.

"Good morning, Mister Morrison," Hanzo said politely, sitting in one of the two chairs opposite Morrison. Jesse leaned against the door, popping another mochi into his mouth. Hanzo gave him a decidedly unimpressed glance. "You've met us both before, but for the sake of formality, I am Hanzo and this is Jesse McCree. We will be asking you a series of questions related to your life since the Fall of Overwatch. I recognize that you may not remember everything, but we would greatly appreciate your most detailed and honest account."

Morrison grunted.

"Is there a manner of address you prefer?" Hanzo asked, donning his reading glasses and looking at his tablet.

"Morrison's fine. Gotta get used to it eventually."

"Very well, Mister Morrison," Hanzo said as he took notes. "First, I'd like to ask how you found your accommodations last night?"

Jesse grumbled to himself. They should've put Morrison in the clink overnight rather than give him is own room. Winston wouldn't hear it, though.

"Good enough," Morrison said.

Hanzo waited, but Morrison offered no follow up. "In that case, there are a few ways we can proceed. We can ask questions of you and you respond with answers; You can state your narrative and then we can ask follow-up questions; Or we can blend these models and ask you questions as necessary during your narrative."

"First one."

If Jesse hadn't been training himself to notice and interpret Hanzo's body language, he would have missed the twitch of eyebrow that signified annoyance. …Should he be proud or pissed that Morrison irritated Hanzo before he could?

"As you wish," Hanzo said in a clipped tone. "Your name is John Francis Morrison. Have you always known this was your name?"

"No."

The silence stretched. Jesse ate another mochi.

"When did you discover it as your name?"

"A year, year and a half ago."

This time, Hanzo didn't wait for details. "What did you go by before that?"

"John Doe."

A quick scribble on his tablet. "So you identified yourself as John Doe for approximately six years. Is that accurate?"

"Probably. Only remember past two years."

"I see. And what is your condition regarding your memory?"

"That Ziegler woman-" Jesse growled at the disrespectful form of address for Doc "-said it was a lot of brain trauma that caused the amnesia. Apparently having several tons of concrete collapse on you isn't healthy. Who would've guessed."

Hanzo hummed noncommittally. "You remember nothing from before the Fall?"

"Nothing before waking up in a burning building," Morrison drawled.

"But you remember everything since?"

For the first time that day, Morrison lost a little of his bluster, his confidence wilting. Jesse happily nibbled on his mochi. "No. I used to… lapse somewhat often."

"How often?"

"Dunno," he said, looking frustrated. "Every couple months?"

"To what degree were these lapses?"

"Total. I wouldn't remember anything."

"Hold on," Jesse interrupted, earning a glare from Hanzo. "How would you remember these lapses if each one was blank slate? Did you get some of those memories back?"

"No," Morrison said. "It's just what my... caregiver told me."

"Caregiver?" Hanzo pressed.

"Yes."

Hanzo sighed and removed his glasses to rub at the notches on his nose. "This would be much easier for all of us if you volunteered information."

"Fine," Morrison growled. "My earliest memory was spring of 2050. I've been keeping journals between lapses to keep track of events, so I have record of my memory going back to 2045. For as long as I've had those journals, I had a... caregiver, for lack of a better phrase. Apparently, she found me wandering the streets one day and took me in as an act of charity.

"Last September," Morrison leaned forward on his forearms. "For the first time, I remembered. It was Zurich, after it blew up. It was the best lead I ever got on my past and did some digging." He shook his head. "Didn't much like what I found. Turns out I'm Commander Jack Morrison, presumed dead commander of Overwatch. Read into all the sordid details of the guy's life. He was a right asshole. I'm not interested in repeating his mistakes."

"Repeating your mistakes," Jesse corrected.

"You refer to Jack Morrison as another person," Hanzo said, smoothly wresting back control of the conversation. "Do you not consider yourself to be him?"

"No. I just happen to have his body."

"I see. Can you elaborate on your caregiver?"

"Yeah." Morrison's brows furrowed. "I… don't remember much."

"Was your caregiver not present after your most recent lapse?"

"No, I… She was definitely there. Her name was… Fa… Tima?"

"Tima?" Hanzo asked.

"No," Morrison said, sounding much surer. "One word: Fatima." His frowned deepened. "I don't know why it's not easier to remember."

"Dr. Zeigler did warn that you might have imperfections in your memory due to your condition," Hanzo offered. "Even if they are not total resets, as you called them."

"I guess," He grunted. "Weird thing is, I remember what I wrote about her more than I remember her."

"Convenient," Jesse drawled.

"Doesn't seem convenient to me," Morrison snapped. "She always carried herself like someone who knew more than she should. If we could find her, she might be able to tell us a lot."
"About what?" Jesse asked. "How grouchy you are? What time you took your meds?"

Morrison glowered at him. Maybe now was a good time to give him that one mochi? "For one, she could tell me how I started in Switzerland and ended up in Egypt."

Hanzo perked up. "Egypt?"

"That's what I wrote," he said defensively. "I definitely remember a very dry environment and Arabic. Doesn't really narrow down much of the Middle East, but the only thing I've been able to consistently rely on is my journals."

"How long were you in Egypt?"

"I have no idea. My early records are really sporadic. Based on my handwriting, I'd say it took a while to relearn how to hold a pen."

Okay, that deserved a mochi. Jesse pushed off from the wall and walked to the table, dropping a single mochi in front of Morrison, who didn't even have the grace to say 'thank you'.

"So, let me get this straight," Jesse said, returning to his post on the wall. "You experienced such a total episode of amnesia that you couldn't remember your own name, ended up in Egypt with no idea of how you got there, and couldn't even write- all while lookin' just like Jack Morrison. You're tellin' me no one in whatever city or village you were livin' in recognized you?"

"How would I know?" Morrison asked, poking the mochi like he expected it to be poison. "Everything I know comes from my journals and none said I got recognized."

Jesse shook his head. "This whole thing stinks. Fatima is my number one suspect right now."

"I do find it strange that she housed you for such an extended period of time," Hanzo agreed. "Did she never attempt to find your relations?"

"She… said she tried finding my family," Morrison said slowly, rolling the mochi in his hands. "But I guess it was hard since she didn't even know what country I was from or anything else." He looked up suddenly. "Do I have relations?"

Jesse and Hanzo shared a glance, but Morrison spoke again before either could answer.

"Actually, don't tell me. I wouldn't even recognize them if I did. Would probably just put them in more danger with Talon around." He looked at his mochi. "So. Fatima. Honestly, I don't know how hard she tried to find relatives. I think she got used to my company." He huffed a laugh. "Lonely old widow."

"Still think it's suspect," Jesse grumbled.

Morrison frowned. "Fatima is a Crisis widow. She lost one of her kids in service to Overwatch and had a falling out with the other one." He sniffed the mochi experimentally and took a bite. "The only thing I suspect her of is keeping my identity from me and even then I think she had good intentions."

"Because good intentions justify that?" Jesse asked skeptically.

Morrison leaned forward on his forearms, voice low. "If you were me, would you want to know what a shithead you were in a past life?"

Jesse rolled his eyes, but… Would he? Forgetting the shit he'd done would be more of a blessing than anything, especially before Blackwatch…

"Whatever." Jesse closed up the mochi bag. "A few minutes ago you couldn't remember her name, but now you can give us a bio of her life?"

"I don't choose what I can remember!" Morrison growled.

"Forgive my interruption," Hanzo said. "But I am curious. You say that she lost a child in service to Overwatch and that you also believed she concealed your true identity. Does that mean she had a positive outlook on Overwatch?"
Morrison slowly leaned back in his chair. "I'd say neutral to disdainful, depending on what part of its history you were talking about. Far as I could tell, she considered caring for me an exercise of forgiveness."

"No shit!" Jesse laughed. "That woman must be a livin' saint to put up with your shit for six years."

"I believe we've exhausted this line of questioning. Unless you believe we could uncover some decades long conspiracy?" Hanzo asked Jesse. He resisted the urge to flip him off and just shrugged. Hanzo turned back to Morrison. "Why were you in Dorado?'

"I may not really be Morrison, but someone's got to own up to his mistakes." Morrison popped the rest of his mochi into his mouth, practically swallowing whole. What trash. Absolute disrespect of the culinary arts. "Figure it might as well be me," Morrison continued. "Didn't know that Overwatch was back from the dead, too."

"What does Morrison's mistakes have to do with Dorado?" Hanzo asked.

"At this point, I'm not even sure I could tell you. It's been a long road of breadcrumbs. At first I was only investigating LumériCo in a general sense, because that's where my research led me. I was going all over Mexico, but then I latched on to Los Muertos so I ended up in Dorado. Finding out about Talon was an accident, but I'm pretty sure they're the reason the breadcrumbs exist. Lucky they happened to be working with Los Muertos."

"Wasn't so lucky that you started a fight before we could get all the information we needed, huh?" Jesse asked. "Now we know that Talon's got a big-ass EMP bomb, but no idea what they're gonna do with it."

"King's Row," Morrison said as if it were obvious. Jesse and Hanzo stared. "The Omnic Rights Summit is being held in King's Row, London in a week. It's the perfect target."

"Do we know that this is their target with any certainty?" Hanzo said with appropriate concern.

"It's what was on the shipping label."

Jesse balked. "The what?"

"It was on the bomb. Stickered on the outside."

"That seems," an array of interesting expressions flit across Hanzo's face as he no doubt struggled to find a word that encompassed his horror. "Sloppy."

Jesse snorted. "They hid the bomb in a fuckin' piñata, I don't think Los Muertos is the pinnacle of professionalism."

Hanzo set his tablet down and steepled his hands. "This is dire. An EMP capable of putting a small city offline detonating in the heart of London?"

"Hell, you wanna talk about flash points?" Jesse tipped his hat back. "King's Row is where Tekhartha Mondatta was assassinated a few years ago. There's an entire underground omnic ghetto under there. Both symbolically and logistically, it's significant to omnics the world over and an EMP would kill thousands."

"An instant global civil war," Hanzo agreed. "It's a master stroke."

"A shortcut to the next Omnic Crisis," Jesse finished. "Shit."

"It does seem tailor-made as a catalyst," Hanzo observed.

Jesse's attention snapped onto him. "You think they've been plannin' this from the start?"

"Hard to say when the 'start' may have been. However, we do know who assassinated Mondatta."

"Widowmaker. Talon," Jesse realized. "Mother fucker."

"Quite."

Jesse did some quick math in his head. "That means we've only got a week to prepare for this- shit. Shit."

"Urgency does seem warranted," Hanzo agreed. "Mister Morrison, I'd like to thank you for your cooperation. Is there anything else you'd like for us to know?"

He shook his head. "No, but I've got a question: what are you planning on doing with me?"

Hanzo paused in collecting his tablet. "There have been several proposed courses of action. We can return you to Dorado or-"

"I want to join."

"Pardon?"

"You're in the fight I started. Going after Talon?" Morrison tapped the table. "I want in."
"Sorry," Jesse said, opening the door and waiting for Hanzo. "We don't have any positions available for 'old men too angry to die'."

Hanzo removed his glasses and rubbed his nose. "We'll bring the matter up to Winston. It will ultimately be his decision. I can promise no more than that."

/

"Absolutely!"

Jesse dragged a hand over his face. "Winston, buddy, no."

"Well, why not?"

The whole team was gathered in the conference room to hear the results of Morrison's questioning. They were supposed to lead with the more urgent news about Talon activity, but Jesse and Hanzo couldn't get a word in edgewise to Winston before the meeting. If it wasn't about dear old Morrison, Winston thought it could wait. Now that the news Morrison wanted to join up was out, everyone had their own two cents on what to do about it.

"It doesn't seem wrong to you," Doc said, "to bring an amnesiac on to the team? At best, it seems manipulative of his identity."

"You'd know all about that, wouldn't you?" Torbjörn muttered.

Doc threw her hands in the air. "Yes, please tell me how skilled I am at manipulations, you who is masterfully immune."

"It is not our place to tell Jack how to live his life!" Reinhardt announced, thumping the table, rattling everything on its surface. "If he wishes to serve, who are we to deny him?"

"He'd probably just strike out on his own anyway," Brigitte said. "Putting him and us at greater risk in the process."

"Well, that much is true," Doc agreed.

"Isn't having a veteran agent join us a good thing?" Lúcio asked, leaning forward on his forearms. "I mean he was the Strike Commander. That's got to count for something!"

"Maybe as marks against him," Jesse countered. "The Fall happened on his watch."

"I, for one, am in favor of retaining him," Hanzo said from next to Genji. "Morrison is a liability whether or not he joins our team. Keeping him close allows us to hold a tighter leash."

"Yeah, I wouldn't feel right abandoning him," Lena said. "He's got a right to be on the team."

Zenyatta hummed, necklace of orbs spinning slowly. "It may also be wise to consider the effects Morrison will have on the team. His arrival alone has inspired great disharmony. We may be able to overcome that with time and healing, but we do not have an excess of time."

"I hate to be the one to mention the practical aspects- no, really," Genji said with a short laugh. "But can we afford to turn away any fighters?"

"We still have a moral obligation," Angela insisted.

Jesse spread his arms. "What's so moral about decidin' whether he fights Talon with a team or on his own? All we're really decidin' if we wanna risk our asses on his account again. Sure you can guess where I stand on that."

"Morrison wouldn't be leading Overwatch again," Hanzo said. "We are not restructuring our ranks."

"Does everyone in this room know that?" Jesse challenged.

There was a brief silence as the team glanced at each other awkwardly.

Winston scratched at his chest. "Let's… think on it. We'll review the mission in Dorado and revisit the question at the end of the meeting."

"If you say so." Jesse reseated his hat and took a deep breath. Fine. Everything was fine. "Right. Dorado. Team was composed of myself, Lena, Lúcio, and Hanzo. We arrived last Wednesday and spent the week gathering info and canvassing the area-" He looked up. "Y'all still remember the in-progress reports or should I recap?"

There was a series of vague confirmations.

Fuck it, he didn't give a shit anymore. "Nothin' significant happened until the night before last, anyway. That's when I ran into Soldier: 76, who we now know to be Morrison. After a brief conversation," he said sardonically. "We discovered that we shared the mutual intention to disrupt Los Muertos and Talon's handoff. Instead of having four factions in the fight and risking friendly fire, we agreed to team up."

"Sensible," Winston approved.

"Didn't turn out that way," Jesse groused. "We knew goin' in that we wouldn't have the numbers to really challenge Talon and Los Muertos, no matter how few showed up. The plan was to watch the exchange, figure out exactly what was changin' hands, and leave without makin' a fuss." Jesse ticked off a finger for each task as he spoke. "That went out the window when Morrison initiated contact without any kind of discussion or forewarnin'. Just- hopped out from his hidin' spot and opened fire."

"That doesn't sound right," Reinhardt said with a confused frown. "Jack was never rash in battle."

"No, that was your job," Torbjörn muttered.

Jesse ignored them. "While he was playin' Rambo, I managed to get eyes on the shipment." He paused, making sure all eyes were on him. They were all going to understand just how much shit they were collectively in. "It was an EMP bomb. A big one. Big enough to take out a small city- or a chunk of a large one."

The room broke out in a rush of whispers.

"Um, everyone?" Winston said, hardly loud enough to be heard across the table. "Please quiet down so Jesse can finish."

The conversations didn't stop. Jesse crossed his arms. He made his point and hell if he was gonna raise his voice to command a meeting that wasn't his. He wouldn't hold Winston's hand forever. Especially if he insisted on dumbass ideas, like letting Morrison join.

Hanzo didn't quite see it that way, though. Course he didn't, the man had a compulsive need for order and control.

"If I could have your attention," Hanzo said sharply. He wasn't particularly loud, but it managed to draw everyone back to focus anyway. Hanzo gestured him to continue.

Jesse unfolded his arms. "Since we achieved our goals, the plan was to just pop smoke and get the hell out of Dodge before reinforcements could show up, but thanks to Morrison that went to utter shit."

"I was stationed nearby," Hanzo took over, shooting questioning glances Jesse's way. Yeah, this was the first meeting he wasn't all hunky dory, wasn't it? Get used to it, pal. "A transformer was severely damaged early in the fight against Los Muertos, meaning the majority of it took place in total or near darkness. Talon had sent only one agent- Reaper."
A shudder came over Jesse. Dammit, he had almost forgotten about that. "Reaper was some sort of nano-cloud nightmare," he explained. "Looked, talked, and shot like a person, though. Mostly."

"Nano-cloud?" Doc asked with interest. "As in, a nanite colony?"

"I dunno. It was able to turn all," he waved his hands vaguely. "Smoky and move around like a cloud. Don't know what else could do that. Some creepy shit, though."

"Putting an arrow through its head seemed sufficient to stop it," Hanzo added.

"This sounds like the unnatural one that invaded the watchpoint in February," Winston said thoughtfully. "I wonder if Talon has many of them?"

Jesse winced at the idea of an entire army of waking nightmares. "Jesus, I hope not. And why would they only send one if they had more?"

"Focusing on the mission," Hanzo redirected. "Once McCree had discovered the contents of the shipment, he was to retreat. However, Morrison had sustained severe injuries in fighting Los Muertos. McCree showed great courage in rushing to Morrison's aid in the face of overwhelming odds, especially considering Morrison's previous behavior. McCree was able to neutralize the remaining Los Muertos agents and light his immediate vicinity so that I could disable the Reaper. From there, it was a matter of evacuating from the scene."

"We, uh," Jesse stumbled, still trying to wrap his mind around Hanzo paying him a compliment. Publicly, too! "We got him to a nearby alley. The wounds were really severe. If it was anyone but Morrison under Soldier's mask, they definitely would have died. We made contact with Lena and I made the call to wait for Lúcio's assessment. Soldier was able to tell us about his safehouse- he was in and out of consciousness pretty frequently because of the pain. Lúcio warned us he might not survive the trip, but we didn't really have any other options. Couldn't really take him to our hotel."

"Yeah," Lúcio confirmed. "He had uh, three gun shot wounds, multiple abrasions, and uh…cuts?" He looked to Doc.

"Lacerations," she offered.

"Ah, yeah, that's it!" Lúcio said enthusiastically. "Thanks. So, like, by the time we made it to Mr. Morrison's safehouse, his wounds were already showing signs of healing, way beyond what my audio tech should've been able to help."

"That's what tipped me off." Jesse shrugged a shoulder. "The Strike Commander's superhuman abilities were an ill-kept secret by the time I joined Overwatch." Really, he knew because Reyes had the same trait. Healed faster than doctors could dig the bullets out. "All I had to do was put two and two together. I made the call to leave Dorado as soon as possible. Morrison was in no danger of dying, even without medical treatment, but knowin' who he was… I'm sure y'all can understand my line of thinkin'. So we called ahead and... here we are."

"Here we are," Winston agreed. "Dr. Zeigler, what of his medical assessment?"

"Permanent retrograde amnesia and signs of persistent anterograde amnesia to a lesser degree as a result of traumatic brain injuries," Doc rattled off cooly. "It seems that the super soldier serum enabled healing of brain cells and synapses that normally isn't possible, which is likely the reason he's been having fewer lapses in memory. That said, it is unlikely that he will ever recover to his pre-injury memory capabilities. I would not be surprised if he occasionally forgets smaller details in his day-to-day life."

Winston rubbed his chin. "Is it enough to disqualify him as an agent?"

"I…" Doc grimaced. "No. I say he won't recover to pre-injury form, but pre-injury he had a remarkable capacity to remember details, possibly also a side effect of the serum."

"So he's a mortal like the rest of us, now," Jesse surmised.

"Was your questioning of Morrison in keeping with Dr. Zeiglers' assessment?" Winston asked.

"I would say yes," Hanzo confirmed. "Assuming that he was truthful, Morrison could only remember events post-Zurich and even then it was intermittent. He had difficulty recalling details of a person he had spent the better part of five years with."

"More importantly," Jesse said. "He told us what Talon's plans for the EMP bomb are. They're takin' it-"

"Wait, he knew Talon's next move?" Winston jumped in excitedly. "Evidence that his knowledge and experience could prove invaluable!"

Jesse looked at Winston incredulously. "Are you serious?"

"McCree's outrage is justified," Hanzo said. "As we would have been able to determine this ourselves had Morrison not prematurely engaged in battle. This is only evidence that the knowledge and experience Morrison once relied on is absent."

"Wow," Genji said in shock. "It must be bad if Jesse and Hanzo agree."

"Well, surely-" Winston droned.

Jesse tuned him out. He had enough of this shit, time to rip off the bandage. "They're takin' the bomb to King's Row."

The uproar was instantaneous, though Lena's shouted "No!" was clear through the commotion. Winston just sat in his chair blinking stupidly. Jesse ended up locking on to Zenyatta's conversation as he waited for Winston to figure out his shit.

"This is most distressing," Zenyatta said, orbs spinning at a rate Jesse'd never seen before.

Genji leaned towards the monk. "Master, you won't have to participate in a mission that-"

"Of course I will," Zenyatta said sternly. "Mondatta would expect no less. I am ashamed that you would think so little of me, Genji."

Ouch. He didn't even think Zenyatta had a mean bolt in his body, but that was harsh.

Genij bowed his head. "I meant no disrespect, Master, please forgive-"

"Enough!" Hanzo shouted, slapping a palm on the table.

Jesse raised his brows in surprise. Hanzo losing his temper? Seemed like he got to witness all sorts of firsts tonight.

"We do not need to break out in fevered whispers at every scrap of news," he seethed. "If we are meant to be the new Overwatch, we should be professional."

"Didn't we have to kidnap you?" Brigitte asked. "You were never a member of Overwatch. You don't know how it used to be."

"Then live up to the expectations laid down by your forebears," Hanzo demanded. Brigitte flushed, glancing up at Rein, but Hanzo didn't wait for a retort. "These childish displays are a waste of time. As we speak, Talon prepares to execute an operation that can plunge the entire world into a true Second Omnic Crisis, but we bicker over petty grudges and interrupt our own mission debriefs. It is a disgrace!"

Jesse tucked his chin, angry that Hanzo's words made him feel guilty. It was just this one fucking meeting where he wasn't all suave and smiles! And he had a god damn right to be upset about Morrison!

"King's Row in London is the target," Hanzo continued. "It's home to one of the world's most densely populated omnic ghettos. It is the site of a Shambali priest's assassination. It will hold the global Summit for Omnic Rights in eight days. We do not have the luxury of squabbling amongst ourselves. We need to act and we need you," Hanzo leveled a hand at Winston, "to lead us."

"I, um, er, that is- yes, of course." Winston coughed into a fist. "We should, erm, gather data about the situation. I'll do that and then we can meet again, uh-"

Jesse rubbed his face tiredly. "Winston, I appreciate it, buddy, but we need to start preparing now."

"Right," he agreed, looking confused. "That's why I'll begin immediate analysis. We can't take action without a plan."

"Yeah, you can, actually." Jesse sat up properly, praying to Amari for patience. "We know we're going to respond to this information, right? We're definitely going to King's Row and stopping Talon."

Winston nodded.

"Alright, right away we know that the Lark's gonna need maintenance and Lena's gonna need to call in to her local hangar for a parking space. Talon's gonna be there, so it's an all-on-deck situation. Brigitte will want to put finishing touches on Rein's armor, Rein will need to adjust his workouts, and Torb will hammer the One Ring in his forge or whatever the hell it is he does."

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Torbjörn shot back.

"I'm sure there'll be a lot of casualties on site," Jesse added, Doc nodding emphatically in response. "So Doc will need to team up with Lúcio and Zen and anyone else who wants to brush up on medical know-how. As for you, Winston- me, Hanzo, and Genji will all be available to help you plan the operational and tactical aspects of the mission. This should be enough for everyone to get started. Tomorrow night we can reconvene and reevaluate."

"Tomorrow?" Winston asked with wide eyes. "That's too soon. I won't have time to plan everything!"

"That is fine," Genji said. "Tomorrow we'll be able to share what we have learned so far and discuss our rough ideas on how to achieve our goals. We can refine our plan throughout the week."

"We do it this way so that everyone in the team has as much time to prepare as possible," Jesse explained. "Otherwise, they'd all be scramblin' the day before tryin' to get everythin' ready cause it took us that long to have a solid plan."

"Oh, okay…" Winston still looked overwhelmed.

Jesse sighed and rubbed his neck. "Look, tensions have been high for all of us. It's no excuse for me snappin' at you and things are gonna get worse before they get better with this mission crunch, but we're gonna pull through this. This is what we've been trainin' for."

"Right," Winston agreed, though it sounded like he was trying to convince himself rather than agree with Jesse. "Right! We are Overwatch! We're the heroes the world needs right now! We've been training for weeks and we'll be ready for Talon- they won't know what hit them." Winston grinned, his long canines glinting in the office light.

Jesse clapped with the rest of the team- not the most rousing speech, but at the end of the day Winston was their leader. And also a gorilla capable of ripping Jesse's remaining arm off.

"We have a lot to do to prepare for our next mission, team!" Winston beamed at them all. "I'm going to begin the data analysis and call another meeting for tomorrow afternoon. As for Morrison, with the upcoming mission, I think every capable hand is going to be critical in the fight, but I'll put it up to a vote. All for it, raise your hand!"

Every hand but Doc's rose into the air, Jesse included. She shot him a betrayed look.

"What?" He asked. "If we're lucky, he'll die a hero next week."
"Don't say that!" Lena exclaimed.

"It's settled," Winston said. "Jack Morrison is the newest member of Overwatch! Oh, um, that sounds really strange doesn't it? Well, uh if no one else has something for the good of the group-"
"Winston!" Lúcio said, raising his hand high. "I need to talk to you about potential recruits."

"Er, okay. Let's go to my lab and chat, if that's okay?

"Alright, sounds good to me!"

"Excellent!" Winston looked at the rest of the team. "Um, team dismissed!"