Lucio's room was sleek and stylish, mostly made up of bright colours, light brown walls, nice soft, caramel carpeting, and brilliantly painted vinyl records hanging up on the walls. It all seemed to mimic his personality; warm, welcoming, and very friendly. You felt almost immediately at home, a notion which, after you mentioned it, made him chuckle. The hoodie he had lent to you to sleep in was much larger than either of you - he admitted that it wasn't necessarily his, and belonged to his boyfriend - but it was comfy and soft and kept you decently covered. You slept on one of the colourful bean bag chairs in the living room, despite Lucio's insistence you take the bed, he's fine with the bean bag, and woke to find your uniform - a layered satin eggshell blouse with a blue underlayer, a pair of blue nylons underneath a slim black pencil skirt, and a pair of black Oxfords - already laid out for you. You figured Eugene had been given access to Lucio's room and stopped by after you'd fallen asleep.
"Hey, look who's awake," Lucio said, smiling at you as he stepped into the living room, catching you admiring one of the painted records on the wall; one with a grassy meadow scene whose long-stalked flowers seemed to sway in a non-existent breeze. His gaze softened a bit at the sight and he chuckled. "They have a certain magic to them, don't they?" he asked, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
You nodded, still rubbing some sleep out of your eyes. You'd yet to wake up enough to properly change into your uniform, or, really, do anything. "They do," you agreed, slipping your hands back into the hoodie pocket. "Who painted them?"
"That'd be Markus, my boyfriend. He paints in his free time, and made those for me as an anniversary gift. I have to say, he waaaay out-gifted me with those. I got him a set of oil paints I found in an art shoppe in Italy."
You smiled and chuckled, watching the way Lucio practically melted when talking about Markus. It was incredibly sweet and obvious that they cared immensely for each other. "How long have you two been dating?"
"Uh, about two years, now. Wow, yeah, two years! Man, it feels like it was just yesterday when we went on our first date," he admitted, leaning against the wall, grinning widely, stupidly, but in a charming way that made you feel a wave of second-hand happiness.
"I've heard that it sometimes feels like that in the best kind of relationships. Was he a fan of yours?"
Lucio shrugged, scratching his chin. "Not really, I don't think. He definitely is now, though. I'd made it a point not to date fans for most of my career, the idea just felt wrong to me, like I'd be taking advantage of whoever it was." He shook his head, turning his gaze back to you, his smile unfading. "Anyway, you getting hungry? We have our own private mess hall if you want to stay out of sight of the rest of the staff. I saw how uncomfortable and awkward you felt when you walked in yesterday. It was kind of obvious."
'So he noticed…' Hugging yourself, you blushed, embarrassed. "Yeah, I-I guess I am. Thank you, um, could-could you wait for me while I change? I still don't-don't know the layout of the compound very well."
"Yeah, of course! I never leave a friend hangin'!" he said cheerfully, making you feel fuzzy. You hadn't expected to be accepted by your coworkers this quickly, it made you feel really good, maybe a bit more confident in yourself.
You got changed quickly, neatly folding the hoodie and placing it on top of his washer, before you met him back in his living room. He seemed to take a second to take in the sight of you in your uniform - which fit perfectly, by the way; you'd have to properly thank Eugene the next time you saw him - with your hair pulled back in a reverse French Twist.
Lucio nodded approvingly as you stopped and did a hesitant twirl under his scrutiny. With how tense you were from being judged by your idol, your twirl probably looked more like a slow, awkward penguin turn, but he smiled all the same. "Beautiful," he said, uncrossing his arms. "Eugene has outdone himself again. So, you ready to go? Totally cool if you aren't. The cooks don't mind making a late breakfast, and I don't mind eating one."
You blushed a bit at the compliment and nodded. "Definitely. I desperately need a cup of tea to wake myself up before I meet with Winston. I don't want his first in-person impression of me to be a sleepy goblin-person who can't focus on anything to save her life."
Lucio laughed, clapping a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Well, then, let's get you that caffeine."
You walked with Lucio down the hallways, making sure to note which direction you took and how many doors you passed. As you approached the large metal doorway that invariably led to the private mess hall, the muffled sound of voices reached your ears and you suddenly found yourself panicking. What if they didn't like you? What if you accidentally insulted one of them and it got you fired? What if this was all just some really ridiculously elaborate practical joke? It seemed too good to be true, after all. Maybe this was all a dream and you were about to wake up. You didn't want to wake up, you wanted all of this to be real, but what if it wasn't? What if everyone secretly hated you?
As if sensing your panic, Lucio gently urged you to a stop just outside the doors' scanner, turning you to face him. His hands rested gently on your shoulders, providing a comforting weight and sense of stability amidst your panic. Coffee-brown eyes looked into yours and it was only then, with him being so close, that you noticed the little amber flecks that accented his irises. "Hey, now, don't tell me you're getting cold feet! I know it's a bit scary meeting new people, hell, I get nervous sometimes! But, you just gotta be yourself. They'll love you, I guarantee it." His smile was bright, supportive, as he squeezed your shoulders. "Go knock their socks off!"
You couldn't help but laugh softly, some of your nerves fading with his encouragement. "If you insist, sir."
He frowned playfully, giving you a light shove. "Hey, what did I say about formalities like that? We're the same age, dammit! You're making me feel like an old man."
You grinned and shook your head. "Technically, I'm on duty, now. I have to maintain some level of professionalism," you said, turning to step into the mess hall as Lucio held up his card. The door slid open in front of you, and you immediately found your path blocked with a hulking brute of a man, who towered over you, staring at you through the tinted glass of a gas mask. A good two feet taller than you, he seemed to be made up of muscle, meat, and menace. His large frame blocked any possible view into the mess hall, and his sheer size, matched with the heavy breathing emanating from his mask, made you tremble in fear.
"Whatcha got over there, Roadie?" came a raucous voice from behind the brute, its timbre making you jump. The sound of footsteps, or, more accurately, the step-thunk! step-thunk! step-thunk! of one walking on a peg leg followed the voice as the large man grunted and scratched his stomach.
"I heard voices," he replied, saying nothing more as he seemed to continue to stare you down.
"Yeah? 'N whose didja- oh!" A grubby, soot covered face squeezed past the bulk of the door's guardian, earning nothing but a grunt from him, and a pair of shockingly amber eyes met yours with a smile. " 'N who's this good-lookin' sheila?"
The scent of gasoline and musk (with an undertone of lemon) overwhelmed your senses, and the appearance of the new face shocked you out of your hesitancy. You took a step back, attempting to create some distance between the two figures imposing on your personal space, and backed straight into Lucio's chest.
"This is Miss Briallen Marsh," he supplied for you, gently squeezing your arms with a soft chuckle. "She's Winston's new hire, she'll be working with us from now on. Briallen, this is Junkrat and Roadhog, two of our most recent additions to the roster."
'Get your act together, Briallen!' you thought, instinctively holding out a hand for them to shake. "It-It's nice to-to-to meet you! I'm-I'm looking forward to working with you!" you sputtered out, heart beating nervously in your chest. 'God, that stutter is going to get annoying…'
Junkrat's smile widened. "Really? The monkey's got some good taste," he said, breaking out into a somewhat manic laugh at your cringe. His laugh, however, was cut short when his companion swung a bear paw up to shake your hand, subsequently catching the shorter Australian on the head. The brute's grasp was surprisingly gentle and his warm hand easily enveloped the entirety of your own, along with a bit of your forearm.
"I'd be nice if I were you, Junkrat," Lucio warned with a soft laugh. "She's going to be handling your files and everything. You never know what she might be capable of doing."
You chuckled awkwardly, your hand going immediately cold as Roadhog pulled his away, and your stomach growled, loud enough that you knew they'd all heard. Blushing, you hid slightly behind your bangs.
Junkrat's eyes lit up. "Gettin' a bit nippish, there, are ya, sheila?" he chuckled, squeezing more of his gangly frame past Roadhog's side. "Lucky for you, ya got here just in time! Hana's making her special pancakes!"
As if stirred by his companion's words, Roadhog turned and moved out of the way, gesturing to the long table set in the middle of the room. When you hesitated to move, unsure of whether you were really welcome or not, he simply nodded with a soft grunt and went to sit down himself, respecting your need for a bit of personal space. Junkrat, on the other hand, had no intentions of being so thoughtful.
With an odd flourish, he wrapped his large metal arm around your waist, guiding you to the table. Being so close, you could take in more than you could before; his limp, although obvious due to his metal leg, was almost angled towards you, as if he was weighed down by his prosthetic arm. In fact, his slouching, hunched form seemed to indicate that was exactly the case. It was an interesting detail to note, and you couldn't help but wonder how he lost those limbs in the first place, and why, being part of Overwatch now and having plenty of new tech at his fingertips, he hadn't replaced them with something lighter and more practical. How tall would he be if he put in the effort to fix his posture? He already stood a good bit taller than you, perhaps he would stand almost as tall as Roadhog? No, that was a bit too generous, he'd be at least half a foot shorter than his companion.
"So, sheila, what's your opinion on explosives?" he asked, seeming to give a soft, euphoric shudder at the mention of them.
"Rat," Roadhog warned, his voice a deep rumble.
Junkrat just waved him off. "Yeah, yeah, Roadie, I gotcha. 'S just'a question."
"Um," you started, frowning a bit at the strange question. "I-I mean, um, I-I don't know? I guess they can be, uh, can be pretty sometimes, like, if they're fireworks or-or something, but, really, they're dangerous and cause a lot of mess…"
He laughed maniacally again, and you could have sworn his grip tightened slightly around your waist. "That's good enough for me!"
"What are you cackling about in there, Junkrat?" came the voice of a young woman as you sat down, a bit too close to the Aussie for your liking, but he had trapped you between himself and his companion, so there was nowhere for you to go. You recognised the voice and turned to see the familiar face of Hana Song, the professional gamer Iris had idolised. You'd watched many of her live streams back in the triplet's flat, even though you weren't really big into games.
The Korean was standing in another doorway, carrying a large plate of pancakes in one hand and a pile of smaller plates in the other. Her eyes widened when she saw you and she tipped her head in curiosity. "Who's this?" she asked, coming over to set the plates on the table. Following behind her, with a pitcher of tea and a stack of cups, was a taller, darker-skinned figure who regarded you with a suspicious look. This woman, you didn't really recognise, and the look of distrust in her eyes didn't settle well with you.
You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, avoiding eye contact.
"Roadie, drumroll please!" Junkrat said, smiling delightedly.
Roadhog grumbled, but indulged him anyway, lightly patting his hands on the table, making it rattle from the force of the impact.
The more wiry of the two Aussies you were sandwiched between lept up, placing a peg-leg on top the table, his hands on his hips. "May I present," he said, somehow louder than he had been before, "Duh-duh-duh-duh! Miss Briallen March!"
"Marsh," corrected the other, halting the drumroll and immediately reaching for a plate.
"Marsh," Junkrat echoed, his smile unfading as he gestured to you with both hands, looking between the two women regarding you; Hana seemed amused, her companion, not so much.
"That doesn't answer my question, Jamison," the woman said, crossing her arms over her chest.
Junkrat scowled, sitting down and pouting like a child with his arms crossed huffily over his chest. "It's Junkrat. And she's Winston's new assistant." For a few seconds, it seemed like he was going to sulk for a while, but he, the ever shifting whirlwind, lit up at the sight of the pancakes and immediately began to pile some onto the plate Roadhog had slid over to him.
Almost at once, the woman's expression changed; her eyes softened and widened at the same time, and she smiled warmly. "Well, why didn't you say so? It's nice to meet you! I'm Fareeha, and this is Hana," she said, gesturing to the gamer, who had also begun to pile pancakes onto a plate.
"It's, uh, a pleasure," you said, relaxing a bit. "I-I hope you don't mind that-that I came in for breakfast. I, uh, well, I haven't eat-eaten anything since last night." 'Duh! Of course you haven't, idiot!'
Fareeha laughed, tilting her head back a bit. "You're a hoot! Of course we don't mind, the more the merrier! Hana made some strawberry-oatmeal pancakes, and I made some sweet tea earlier. It was in the fridge for a while, so it should be nice and cold. Help yourself!"
You nodded a bit awkwardly, smiling despite yourself. Avoiding eye-contact, you took a couple pancakes and poured yourself a cup of tea. You listened to them talk easily with each other, slowly feeling more at ease until...
"So, sheila, I heard you took down Ol' Roy Adams all by yer onsie!" Junkrat said, turning excitedly towards you.
"Um, yeah, I did," you admitted, pushing a bit at the remnants of your breakfast. "I, um, didn't-didn't really mean to, it was just self-"
"Tell me all about it!" He practically jumped up from his seat, eyes sparkling. He turned a complete ninety degrees in his chair, folding his hands neatly on his lap like a child in church, eagerly listening to the preacher.
"I, uhm," you murmured, suddenly uncomfortable. "Well…"
"Jamison," Fareeha scolded, frowning over at him. "Not everyone is comfortable talking about… death. If Miss Marsh doesn't want to talk about it, don't push her." She shook her head, and you finally caught sight of the tattoo under her eye. Suddenly, you knew exactly who she was.
Smiling a bit, you folded your hands between your knees and shook your head. "It's-It's alright, Miss Amari. I don't-don't mind too much. It's not a-a very… exciting story…" And you fell into explaining what happened, pausing to answer a few questions from time to time, your nerves fading as you went on. By the time your story was finished, Junkrat was looking up at you, wide-eyed and in awe, a bright smile on his face.
"You really did all that?" he asked in a childlike whisper.
"Yeah. Not too impressive, I know," you said, rubbing the back of your neck.
"For one of us, maybe, but for a civilian," Fareeha said, shaking her head.
"For a civvie, that's fucking awesome!" Hana cut in, her eyes bright.
"Yes, it's very impressive. Miss Marsh's level of combative ability is quite surprising for a civilian of her stature, no offense," another voice called from the door, making you jump in your skin. There was a chuckle in its cadence, a familiar warmth dancing through the words.
Turning around, you were granted the sight of the friendly-faced gorilla smiling over at you, adjusting his glasses.
You stood immediately, smoothing down your shirt, your stomach suddenly filling with butterflies. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't come-come straight to-to your office, sir," you stuttered, suddenly feeling sickly nervous. "I-I, Lucio - I asked him to show me the mess hall so I could-could grab something to-to eat and-and-and I, um, I suppose I got distracted…"
Winston laughed, shaking his head. "There's no need to apologise, Miss Marsh. In fact, I came here to grab some breakfast as well. Though, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like you to accompany me back to my office so we can get you all settled into your new job."
You held back a sigh of relief and nodded. "Of-Of course, sir!"
Winston's office was a lot neater than you had expected it to be, which really shouldn't have surprised you. After all, while he was a scientist, he was also, on a mental and emotional level, a person, same as you. It was comprised of more open space than a regular office, probably to accommodate for his gorilla-ness, but it was comforting nonetheless. Large holographic "windows" shed natural-looking light across the office, giving it a very open feel. Surprisingly, there were very few filing cabinets, perhaps two at most from what you could see. A handful of monitors sat on his desk, each lit up with a different image.
Winston settled down happily in his chair, dipping a peeled banana into a jar of peanut butter as he observed the monitors. "Come, have a seat, make yourself comfortable. Your communicator and card should be…" he tore his gaze from the screens and searched the drawers of his desk. "Ah! Here!" His smile was bright as he placed a small watch-like device and a simple-looking card on the top of his desk, pushing them towards you as you came over. "Sorry about yesterday. I was unusually busy and it completely slipped my mind to make sure these made their way to you. Athena flagged me down and informed me on your, er, predicament. I take it Lucio tried to make you take the bed?"
You chuckled and nodded, sitting in the only seat in front of his desk, picking up the items as you did so. The communicator felt light in your hand, lighter than any phone you'd ever owned in the past five years, and resembled an old Pineapple Watch. Interested, you held it up and admired the sleekness of the design. "Yes, he did. I didn't give in, though," you responded, looking at your reflection in the metal. "It didn't feel right, imposing like that. I was already taking up space in his room, I couldn't take his bed."
Winston chuckled and held out a large hand, on which you placed the watch. "Here, hold out your arm."
You did as you were instructed and watched as he balanced the device on your wrist, tapped the flat surface on the top, and the device moulded to the shape of your wrist. Your eyes widened in surprise and you twisted your arm this way and that, trying to get a good look at the device from every angle. It was perfectly moulded to the shape of your forearm, no seam to be seen, and the flat surface was lit up with different clinical measurements, such as your heart rate, blood pressure, oxygen levels, etc. After a second, the screen changed, displaying the words "Please Hold Communicare Before Face". Doing so caused the text to change to, "Thank You. Please Hold Still", then, after another second, the text disappeared altogether, replaced with a small image of your face, your name, blood type, age, and other information. Apparently, you were allergic to avocados. Who knew?
"Intriguing, isn't it? They link to Athena's database and communicate with each other, whether off-base or on," Winston said, his eyes bright. You couldn't help but think of Gibson and his love of technology. He would have gone apeshit over this. No pun intended. "I made them myself, with a little bit of help from our technologies department, of course. I'll send you the manual a bit later, but, let's get down to business, shall we?"
You lowered your arm and nodded, folding your hands in your lap. "Yes-Yes sir, of-of course! I can't wait to-to get started!" you said, smiling up at him.
His smile became confused, his eyes concerned as he looked you over. "Miss Marsh… I hate to ask, and in no way is this intended to be rude, but, I feel I must know. The accident all those years ago, did it… Did it leave you with a permanent stutter?"
You blushed vibrantly, embarrassment flooding over you. Your stutter was a slightly sensitive topic, one you tended to avoid at all costs, but, here in front of your boss, you couldn't quite do that. "Uhm, uh, n-no it didn't. I, uhm, have a habit of-of-of stuttering when-when I'm nervous… My, uh, my-my old therapist said it-it's a self... Self-confidence thing," you murmured, fiddling with your fingers as you looked away. You tried desperately to control it, but, it seemed the more you fought to keep it under wraps, the worse it became. "I'm… I've been trying to-to work on it."
You heard him sigh softly, the sound of clicking keyes following quickly after. You knew, without even trying, that he was pulling up your file - you couldn't count the number of times this happened during an interview - and you knew what was coming next; Winston would see your file, read everything Miss Lawson had written about you, all the problems you had after your accident - trouble saying anything for a while, which developed into a crippling stutter that slowly began to fade, frequent lapses in memory, the bits of your brain they'd put metal and programming into just to keep you functioning, how you'd refused to eat for a while, convinced the world would be better off without you, after all, you were a bad person, and so many more things you didn't want to recount. Then, once he'd read all that, he'd say-
"I see. It says here you stopped seeing Miss Lawson before you finished the therapy for the accident. Would-"
"I couldn't afford it," you cut in, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. "Most-Most of her patients have family that help p-pay for the-the-the therapy and counseling. I didn't have that luxury."
Yes, everything was following the usual routine. Next, he'd give you a pitying look, clap you on the back and say-
"I'm sorry, Miss Marsh, but I'm afraid we can't afford to have you working for us. Please, pack your things and go home."
"I can see this is a topic you'd rather not discuss," he hummed softly, settling back in his seat. "Why don't we move on?"
Wait, that's not what he was supposed to say! You looked up at him in surprise, met the sympathising look on his face, and smiled gratefully, relief coursing through you. Your fingers stopped running along the semi-sharp edge of your keycard and you nodded. 'He's… not going to make me quit?'
His grin was rather large and toothy, making you feel at ease despite it's innate wildness. "I take it the Commander explained most of the heavy parts of your position yesterday?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good, that means I get the easy part!" Winston chuckled, taking a bite of the banana. "So, first thing I want to say is, welcome to the family! While you're working here, you're one of us, which also means that you don't need to be so formal around us, especially me. At least, when it's just us agents. Don't want the others to think they can drop formalities, now, do we? Anyways, while I am your boss, I'd much rather be your friend, so you can relax a bit. I'm not going to bite your head off or anything."
Five floors. The elevator, thankfully large enough to accommodate the gorilla's size, took you two down five floors below the office level, which you had learned was at least four floors underground. How deep did this building go? How far underground where you right now? You hadn't had a chance to leave the facility yet, so you had no idea, nothing to judge by, especially as every floor felt the same as the one above it. Athena must have some pretty intricate atmosphere conditioning programs.
"Your first job will be easy," Winston explained, leading you down the brightly lit hallway. Unlike the floors above, this one didn't have any holo-windows, suggesting there were no offices or living spaces. Bright, fluorescent lights hung over your head, casting harsh lighting down onto you as you walked. The air smelled of dust and books, many, many old books. You loved it.
"As much as I would love to say we're completely up to date on our technologies and keeping everything digitalised, I cannot. As a general rule, we always keep paper copies of things, just in case our system is hacked." He puffed up his chest a bit. "Not that it's a scenario which would most definitely play out. I like to think I've outsmarted the hackers, but, I can't say that my systems are completely unable to be tapped into." He pushed open a door and flicked a light switch. The lights flickered slowly to life, giving off a dull hum of electricity only found in old tech.
'Strange... so, this floor isn't linked to Athena's system?' You coughed as a wave of dust flew into your face as he pushed the door open further, revealing a large records room filled with shelves packed with boxes upon boxes, the contents of most threatening to spill over and flood the floor with papers. 'Well… shite.'
You could practically feel Winston's uneasy smile as he stepped into the room, gesturing you to follow. "Yes, I know it looks like a lot, and, I won't lie, it is. These are all of our paper documents since… Maybe twelve years ago? I need them sorted, organised, tossed, whatever, but that can wait. The most important information is right here." He picked up a box which stood out like a sore thumb; it was new, lacking the coating of dust the others had, and was neatly organised and not full to brimming. "These are the agent's files, our combat agents, I should specify. They need to be looked through, agents that are… no longer with us… I don't want you to throw them out, just…." His eyes softened with pain as he let out a soft grunt.
"Just update them?" you offered, reaching out to take the box from him. It was surprisingly heavy, for a box just filled with papers. 'Just how old is this information?' you thought, looking down at the files. For the box to be this heavy, the paper had to have been at least fifteen years old. With the ever-evolving state of technology, scientists had invented a much lighter, less wasteful type of paper that utilised small amounts of wood pulp and more synthetic materials, such as thinly woven silicon, glass, and a material that mimicked plant fibres. Noone used the old style of paper anymore.
He smiled at your attempt. "In a way, yes. There's a stamp in my office that I had hoped would never have to be used, but, I suppose it will. Come, follow me. I'll get you set up in your office."
'I get my own office?!' You nodded, withholding an excited smile and tucking the box under an arm so you could turn the light off and shut the door behind you before scurrying after Winston. "So, I take it I'll be comparing Athena's more updated files to these old ones and adjusting the old ones accordingly?"
Winston smiled, gesturing for you to enter the elevator before him as the metal doors slid open. "You're quick!"
You blushed. "Well, it-it-it wasn't that hard to-to-to deduce, I-I mean, I have had to do, to do this before."
"You discredit yourself, Miss Marsh," he sighed, shaking his head as he clambered in after you. "It's good to be humble, yes, but not so humble that you beat yourself down." With a small, understanding smile, he gently placed one of his large hands on your back, careful not to knock you over. "So, seeing as you already understand what you're going to be doing, I suppose I can just leave you to it, then. I'll link your authorisation level to your Communicare, which should allow you to access the files you need in Athena's database."