"I'm fucking furious right now!" Angela cried out in high magnitude frustration as she stomped into the sterile, well-kept medical room that might have been considered an armory of medicine, biting her lip as she passed by Jack Morrison, the storied soldier who simply rested against the wall, arms crossed, while his dry eyes followed the doctor's swift movements, even while she hurled another obscenity in his direction, "I've spent too many days cleaning up shit like this without you turning into some backroom-dwelling assassin like Jesse, too!"

Jack didn't bother to reply as Angela raised her hands, two aerial drones quickly accepting the cue to course through the air and disinfect her hands, all while a third rose up to partially conceal her face in place of the medical masks she'd still been using in medical school. Her eyes remained fierce, a far cry from how absent her spirit had been when first recalled to this place. Despite the irritation, she discovered a rather intriguing part of herself that somewhat enjoyed having a cause to pursue, even if it returned her to her first stint with Overwatch, where she largely stood alone against everybody else.

She quickly stepped into the next room, her muttering now escaping her mask by way of the intercoms above Jack, "Goddammit, his forehead looks like minced meat. What did you all do to him?!"

Jack stepped toward the two-way mirror that sat in the wall between himself and Angela, shoving his hands into his pockets before explaining, "Nothing."

"Bullshit!" Angela seethed, immediately beginning to examine the comatose body now in her care, "Look at this!"

Jack cocked his head to the side, "You've seen Blackwatch's work before. Even you know this is rather tame."

With a cold stare, Angela's eyes leapt up toward Jack with a decisive energy splitting the air in the examination room, quickly returning to her work, in tandem with a collection of drones that hovered nearby, ready to offer her assistance in a myriad of ways, "Perhaps."

Jack watched with sunken eyes. He knew the sight before him would have shaken him in his younger days; he knew he should be having the same reaction, now. He was merely human, after all. Like reciting equations, he knew that his heart should be tugging even at Angela's zealous anger, and yet, he was empty. He had been, for years.

An exasperated, heavy sigh came through the intercom before Angela spoke back up, "...what happened?"

"Nothing," Jack shrugged, "I asked him some questions 'n left him to stew on them. I can have Winston pull up the video if you'd like, but Gentian, Jesse, 'n I weren't even in the room. The man simply began throwing his head into the table, heaving his entire body as though he were attempting to escape out of a window. Like a man possessed- Like he was trying to kill himself with what little resources he'd been given."

Angela chewed on his words as she sutured the last of the man's lacerations, "Guilt, maybe? A psychotic break?"

"You know him," Jack muttered in recognition.

The doctor's eyes gleamed in the bright, sterile lights of the operating room as she charged, "Of course. I never operate on somebody without knowing all I can about them."

Jack stiffened. Had she truly known all there was to know about her current patient, she knew he wouldn't answer her.

"Michael Hale," Angela breathed, shaking her head.

"I showed him the files from the Lacroix case," Jack explained, "Figured he might have broke, as you said. But no. I didn't do a thing to him."

A silence hung over them as Angela finished her work quietly, a bit slower than she might otherwise had finished the operation. She had suddenly become rattled, not just at the reemergence of Michael Hale- the single witness Overwatch had ever managed to pin in Lacroix's murder case- but at those thought of Ilos nearly a year earlier.

"I don't like it," Jack confided, forcing an uncomfortable stir at the back of Angela's neck, "The past continuing to seep into the present."

She knew he never spoke with such melancholic dread to many people. She didn't even know he would speak in such a way to her.

"First, Reyes comes back. Now this."

Jack took a deep breath in contemplation, biting at his lip. Such history, he thought, that, while not long gone, had atrophied into such a state that they could have gone on without much worry. Now it was rearing its ugly head. For the first time, since his days as a young army whelp, he felt a tinge of worry clouding his thoughts- thoughts that perhaps, for once, he was too old, too weak to solve such conflicts. After all, it was becoming painfully clear to him, now, that the first time he had dealt with these monsters, when they were fresh and clear in his mind- even as a younger man, he hadn't been able to conceal them away to be left in the annals of history.

"Jack?"

Angela's voice woke him from his reverie. She'd exited the exam room, leaving the facial drone to leave her fact while she watched him with concern, "I know what you're thinking."

He shrugged, "It doesn't matter."

Looking over his shoulder toward the entryway, Jack opined, "Whatever horrors might linger, floating toward us in some hazy miasma of regret- I've seen the recruits we're bringing in. We're probably better off, now, than we ever were back in the day."

He returned his stare into the examination room, peering through the window at Michael's comatose body, "I just don't want them to make the same mistakes we made. For crissakes."

"I don't think we have to worry," Angela sighed, stepping away toward the computer that sat atop a nearby countertop, "They're good people. The best thing I can say about Blackwatch- about everything we did wrong- if that they have something to learn from, unlike us."

A soft chuckle left Jack's lips, "Prissy little Angela admitting faults."

"Shut it; you're old as hell, now; I could take you," Angela sternly reminded.

Jack laughed further, shaking his head, "I know I- We- used to give you a hard time, but- All that killin'. You might have been right."

He leaned back against the wall, hands still plastered within his pockets, "It catches up to you. Thinking, now, about what I'm going to leave this world when I'm gone, and all I can think about it everything- everyone- I've taken from it."

Angela hadn't bothered maneuvering around the computer, paused as she was in silent reverence.

"Gerard had no choice but to leave us with hatred, anger. confusion. I'd just like to think I'm leaving something more worthwhile," Jack muttered quietly, as though he'd forgotten that Angela was there with him, only snapping back to reality in a split second as he raised his head toward the doctor.

"Do you remember the pact?"

A sigh from Angela.

"Yes."

"And you're still game?"

Angela's heart sunk. Now she was rambling through memories in her mind. She had been so young, so loyal to Overwatch, and so incredibly empty when that pact had been made. Never did she believe that she would ever have a life worth living, again. But now she had this rambunctious new assortment of recruits, better than the original members of Overwatch had been, she'd agreed. She had a new lease on her spirit, not merely on life.

She had Fareeha.

She dropped her head, breathing regretfully, air hanging just beyond her nose as though she were choking herself to keep from answering that question. Yet, much like her Hippocratic Oath, Angela knew, so well, that pacts like that which she'd once made weren't broken by anything.

"I'm still game."

Jack sighed, almost in relief, before standing straight, "I'd'a thought with everything you have now, you'd have said no. Wouldn't have judged you."

"It's because of Fareeha that I'm still keeping to my word," Angela confirmed suddenly, "I made that pact in service of myself, to you- now, it's in service to her."

"Touché," Jack answered simply, "I was just curious."

Angela remained still as she glanced at the idle computer screen, finally snapping back to work as Jack's silence indicated his completion of this line of questioning. He merely stood there, back to leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his muscles demonstrating their lack of aging despite the man's old and weary face, so spun into permanence by his determined expressions that so often were confused with anger. It certainly was how Angela understood them upon first meeting the man.

"Mei," Angela's voice piped up toward the computer, "Can you report to the Med Bay?"

Jack's brow furrowed, "Mei?"

With a swift spin whipping her around, Angela huffed in proud zeal, "Instead of boorishly going about things like animals, I figured my strategy might bore more fruit than whatever you men cooked up."

Intrigued, Jack turned over his shoulder as the doors opened in a flash, Mei quickly scurrying in with a look of fascination upon her face as her eye lost themselves in her datapad, "Y- Yes! Hi, Dr. Ziegler! I was, uh- I mean, I noticed your were using CureBot, so I came to get some readings from its maiden voyage!"

She blithely widened her eyes upon noticing Jack's presence. She immediately threw her arms to her sides before bowing with such an intense posture that she might nearly have fallen forward.

"Captain Morrison, s-!"

Mei immediately threw her body upward with a fright, abandoning her bow with a vicious movement of her hand as she saluted the man before her, "S- Sorry, sir! Eh, er- Captain! ..sir!"

Jack lowered his eyes to note his casual state of dress, wondering what exactly had gotten into their resident scientist, one of them, to force her in such a tizzy. Thankfully, Angela's voice directed Mei's attention back onto the correct track.

"Mei, you wouldn't happen to have that device of yours that can project memories, would you?"

With a start, the scientist perked up, "Well, yes! Of course! Lemme just-"

She pulled a metallic orb from her belt, which immediately began to stir like millions of termites in a frenzied collection atop a baseball. Jack's eyes narrowed at the slow realization of nanotechnology in practice, hiding his astonishment even as Mei handed Angela a device that was now rectangular in shape, yet still remained solid, seemingly.

"Will it work on comatose individuals?" Angela inquired?

Mel smoothed her chin, "I mean, I suppose, in practice, it would. I hooked it up to Junkie once while he was sleeping, and saw- That is, I could see his dreams as they rolled through his mind's eye. It's different from them being awake, in that, awake, the subject can more or less direct the contents of my projector whereas, asleep, it's largely the same dreamscapes you'd expect from dreams of your own."

"I don't know much about people in a coma, though," Mei mused quietly.

Answering, Angela surmised, "Coma patients don't often exhibit the same sleep-wake cycle typical patients do, so it's unlikely he's dreaming. But if we tried it, would it affect him negatively in any way?"

"Of course not!" Mei nearly shouted in offence, "I wouldn't ever create objects that do harm!"

Thinking of ol' Torbjorn, Jack couldn't help but silently chuckle as he dropped his head, surrendering the thought that Angela must've been right, all along."

"Excellent," Angela stated with a hopeful start, "Might we try it and see?"

Happily enough, Mei spoke up with a high pitched tenor to her voice, "Sure! I'd never even thought to perform experiments on such subjects! I'd hate to think how Junkie might have gotten himself into a coma, on his own; I worry about his help sometimes. Oh."

She paused before entering the interior room, eyes crossed as she followed the drone ascending to cover her face, forcing Angela to confirm, "He's properly sutured and sanitized; there's no need for that, you know."

"Oh, I figured that, Ms. Wonder Surgeon! These thing have been having issues with backwards-converting CO2 into dichlorosilane, which is only good if you're trying to corrode your respiratory tract."

Angela's eyes deadened as she turned slowly toward Jack with a particularly wiry smile, following Mei into the surgical chamber with only a furtive pace, as though going against her will. Once inside, she took a breath to relieve herself while Mei readied her equipment, which largely included two wires which ended in cups being placed to Michael's forehead.

"The previous model, Mk. 2, was wireless, and also lost in Australia, and while this model can be used as such, for deeper thought processing, these sensors can better pick up on the electromagnetic fields out- You know what, the wires just work better," Mei explained, breaking herself from her habit.

She finished preparing the setup before her hands froze, Angela noticing her placid eyes as the doctor spoke up, "You okay?"

Mei shivered, "..he's glaring..."

Turning toward the window, Angela noticed Jack watching with a stare that was, probably, intrigue, but behind his cold, deadened eyes, it appeared more like a lion watching its prey from behind a cage. Groaning, Angela simply readied her reply.

"Just ignore him. You get used to it."

Unassured, Mei struggled to answer her, simply choosing to focus on the task at hand, "O- Okay. So, uh, I'm just gonna set it up to… There…"

She suddenly frowned, her curiosity overriding her nerves, "Huh, that's odd. It's working, but..not? I wonder if it's- well, not "buffering", but the same concept."

"You think it's his brain being comatose?" Angela wondered.

"Hmm," Mei hummed, "I concur, doctor."

A droll look cast over Mei as she giggled, "Always wanted to do that."

Sighing, Angela frowned, "Well, it can't be helped. We're already further than I would have thought we'd be, originally, so that's something. Should we check back later?"

"Certainly! This Mk. 3 has petabytes of storage to spare! It'll give me time to adjust NoseNChin, here; I feel a slight tingling in my lower esophagus."

Angela groaned, rubbing her face at such a childish joke, "Thank you, Mei. I'll be getting back to you. In the meantime-"

She stepped out, waving Jack along to follow her, "You're leaving too. If it was your very presence that caused my patient to act up, I don't want you anywhere near him when he wakes."

"Pshaw," Jack scoffed, "As though that's possible."

"Oh, it's possible. I lived it for many years," Angela muttered.

Fareeha gasped at ever-elusive breaths as she sat astride the pec deck machine, arms held up at her sides to grip the massive arms of metal that she would pull toward her chest in furious yanks of muscle to perform. Her head hung low at the end of her rep, eyes fixed on the bench before her as she measured her breathing.

In. Hold. Out. Hold.

Her muscles ached, crying out for rest, but it was the sensation she had grown to love, to crave, even, should she ever go too many days without a workout. It was the perfect storm of sensation, in fact: between her days in the military, and home life, she'd long been instilled with a measurable appreciation for exercise, and, in particular, weight training, due in no small part to her elation at showing up the men in her units back in Egypt. Add in a hefty dose of endorphins, whatever it was that sweat did to her skin to keep her from debasing herself in pursuit of makeup, and, newly, the eyes she would catch from Angela upon noticing her workout taking place, it was quite the worshipful ritual for the ex-soldier.

In. Hold. Out. Hold.

She raised her head to better align her chest, breathing in deeper breaths while also allowing her muscles a rest. She shut her eyes once more, counting in her head each spot of her body where her muscles had become tender, this meditation allowing her even more of a respite.

In. Hold. Ou-

Her eye peeked open as the doorway to the gymnasium swung open, revealing, in no subtle fashion whatsoever, the massive, musculature body of a woman beneath pink hair, a trait that always was the first to grasp Fareeha's attention. She knew Zarya somewhat, still rookie in tenure was she, after all, which was more than she might has assumed upon meeting her. The Russian woman spoke incredibly little, juxtaposed by her imposing figure; she seemed far more likely to be boisterous, somewhat obnoxious- sort of like Lena if she'd had a body as large as her personality.

The two didn't speak, the only sound accompanying Fareeha's ragged breaths being the air conditioner in concert with some inane television show that had the volume nearly muted. Zarya didn't even acknowledge Fareeha once she entered, her loose-fitting clothes implying, only, that she'd come to exercise as well. Fareeha watched as she twisted her body in preparation, tucking a hand behind her opposing arm and stretching her back while making her way to a rowing machine.

Then, she stopped, earning her a curious glance from Fareeha. Zarya stepped away from the machine, stepping confidently down the row of machines before sitting astride the pec deck that sat across the room from Fareeha, eyes shut as the able-bodied Russian sat down. She took a shallow breath before adjusting the magnetic weight upon the machine, raising her arms and beginning to work out her abdominal muscles.

Fareeha's eyes narrowed. She could see on the machine the weight Zara had started with. The soldier turned to examine her own machine's mechanism- 170lbs. The same setting Zarya had started out with.

She frowned at the blatant insinuation, though she quickly had to hide a smirk at the challenge. Fareeha raised the magnetism, 175lbs, before starting again, gritting her teeth as she pumped, not quite iron, but the magnet weights that had now become a subtle point to prove herself to this newcomer who looked to have wrestled a bear in some Siberian trap.

Fareeha clenched her eyes shut, tightly, as she pressed her arms forward, chest tightening like a vice before completing the movement, allowing a moment's respite before she began anew.

Zarya's distant eyes peeked through her own lowered brow. Completing her rep, she subtly raised her own machine's resistance- 180lbs. Her own teeth clenched.

Fareeha pressed on. 185lbs.

190lbs.

Pausing, considering her own health should this go on, Fareeha's mind remembered the presence of Angela.

I guess I'll be fine.

Shrugging off the doubt, she shrugged before dialing in,

195lbs.

Zarya watched curiously, almost in disbelief, though with some fascination as to whether the woman could actually do it. She even paused her own worked as Fareeha scooted backward on the bench, wiggling the toughness in her arms away, taking a deep breath, shaking her head, pressing against the mechanism and

"Ladies!"

Her attention spun toward the entryway where Reinhardt strolled in with his bright smile, saluting the two women as he threw a towel over his shoulder, "May I join you in such spirited exercise?"

"I don't see why not," Fareeha shrugged, eying Zarya.

"Quite alright," Zarya answered dismissively, carefully returning the resistance dial to a more manageable level.

Reinhardt laughed, "That might be for the best! I was shocked to notice how high you were setting the bar, but it was a spirited competition nonetheless!"

He chucked as he sat down, readying himself at a third machine, "I'd be wary of this one, though, Fareeha. She's a weightlifting legend in some parts of the world."

"Well, so long as one of them isn't Gibralter," Fareeha grinned.

Zarya met her with an equally rivalrous smirk, "I make sure to not bruise your ego too much."

"If we'd gone on, the only thing bruised would've been your shoulders," Fareeha goaded further, forcing a dismissive laugh from her opponent.

"GHH! GAH!"

Reinhardt's exhaustive gasps of breath caught their attention as he vigorously threw his arms forward, pressing 300lbs of resistance as though it were only significant enough to elicit such noises. The two women lowered their eyes, ashamed by the spectacle being had by a man of such age so as to proudly wear so much white hair all around his face.

"Heheh!" Reinhardt chuckled, mid-rep, before stopping to breath, "Don't be dismayed. I've been told I'm a specimen."

Fareeha's eyes narrowed skeptically, "By who?!"

"Well, uh," he tarried, "Your mother, mainly."

Running a hand along her face, regretful she'd asked, Fareeha merely muttered, "Oh, god…"

"You do good," Zarya acknowledged, "You handle weight like monster."

Grinning ear from ear, Reinhardt scratched his beard as he beamed, "Well, I mean-"

"Don't massage his ego, please," Fareeha gasped in exasperation, "Mother will have a fit if he starts strutting around again like he's on parade."

Zarya nodded, "Showy. Not much like monster, but prancing pony."

Now worried, Reinhardt's brow rose in concern while Fareeha laughed, "You're not wrong."

The Russian woman eyed the others, sizing them up before assuming, "You are in relationship with her mother, no?"

Nodding, Fareeha confirmed, "Yep. And thank goodness. I love my mother, but she was a special kind of strict before this guy came back around."

"Difficult relatives," Zarya shrugged, "They train your emotions. Like muscle resistance training. Make you better human."

Fareeha shared a surprised glance with Reinhardt, the latter of which exclaimed, "Wow! Such an insight!"

Zarya tipped her head to the side, "My father was drunkard. Nearly drank himself to death on biggest night of my career. My brother and I were made stronger by his ineptitude, not weaker, though not for lack of difficulty."

A silence immediately followed, which seemed to quickly sour on Zarya, quickly returned to her exercising with a simple, "Make do, we must. Too many dead to stop now."

Fareeha's eyebrow rose, "You were military? I read up on your records; you fought in the Defense Forces."

"The Защита, yes. Protection. I watched many of my brothers and sisters die at my side to the Omnics. That's why I join Overwatch," she spoke in slow reverence, twisting her neck to crack the bones within while mid-rep, "Best way to make sure my unit did not die in vain. We change the world this way."

She paused as she ended her motion, shrugging behind the massive steel arms her hands clung onto, "Or, you know, die trying."

"Die trying?" Fareeha chuckled, "We're peacekeepers. The woman with the gravity gun, who choses to incapacitate rather than kill, should know that."

She felt a chill cover her back.

Zarya pulled her hands down into her lap, leaning back as she peered with scrutinizing eyes toward Fareeha, "What did you do before coming here?"

"Egyptian military, mostly. Worked a bit in corporate security," she explained simply.

Smirking, Zarya shook her head as it fell toward her chest, "When you finally know death- You will know it comes, when least you expect."

Reinhardt slowly turned to glance at Fareeha, concern lining his eyes, though Fareeha merely took those words as a challenge, shrugging, "I've come close, zhenskiy. You don't know how far I'll go to keep it that way. I was bred to protect those who can't protect themselves. That's why I'm here; I could care less about the zero deaths under my command. I'm here because I know what it takes."

Summing up the woman's vengeful retort, Zarya's eyes narrowed, sizing up Fareeha for what seemed to be the tenth time, before rising to her feet, wiping off the beads of sweat curling down her face, "Perhaps that is true. I only hope, for your sake, that is doesn't become false."

Watching with a piercing stare of her own, Fareeha didn't pull her attention away until Zarya disappeared into the locker rooms, turning toward Reinhardt with was an exasperated voice, "Can you believe her?! Lecturing me like that? I mean, I can appreciate when you try to advise me, but her? She got here, what, a month ago?"

Sighing, Reinhardt frowned, "Were you not as close to a daughter to me as you are, I might force myself to lie and make you laugh or smile. But she's right. You, better than most, should already understand that."

"I do, but-" Fareeha plead, "I survived! If I can protect myself-"

Reinhardt reached over to rub her back, no doubt touching the same swaths of skin where Reaper's demonic armaments had embedded within her body months earlier.

He smiled warmly, "You have your mother's spirit, child. and your father's innocence and stubbornness."

Scoffing, Fareeha replied, "Pretty sure that's second one is my mother's, too."

Rising to his feet as well, Reinhardt chuckled, "Perhaps."

He turned to step in front of her, bending down to wrap his hand around the back of her head, pulling her close so that their foreheads touched, smiling, "But I would do anything to make sure you never lose all that you are. Chin up, eh? Overwatch is back. It's time to celebrate, not to brood."

Fareeha forced a smile, despite her irritation, still, toward the new recruit, leaving Reinhardt to rise again and saunter off, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've learned in my old age that saunas are a treat for the mind, body, and soul. I must be off!"

Replying in acceptance, Fareeha remained seated, mulling over Zarya's words. They had stung, only in that she had so callously called into question her abilities; she certainly hadn't come this far just for some upstart to fire shots at her. Still, she gave her words some consideration, thinking of Angela; how the two of them, together, had overcome the very enemy Overwatch had once wrought, itself.

She knew she was only stronger with Angela.