A/N
Firstly, before you proceed, some warnings should be in order. The M rating's there for a reason, I leave such conclusions to you. Slightly AU, character deaths, violence and smutty stuff ( maybe, we'll see )
Secondly, I'll be using a lot of OC's in this fic. Don't worry, dear readers, I'll double down on the details so they won't feel so shallow.
Lastly, the disclaimer. I don't own Overwatch ( yeah, I wish ) or its respected characters, just my OC's.
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It always rains the hardest for the people who deserve the sun.
In the UK, for a country that was said to be "an empire on which the sun never sets", the statement had quite the ironic twist. London was well known for its overcast, damp nature with seemingly perpetual rain and endless precipitation throughout the year. The people there hardly saw the sun, especially after the climate changed to a hotter shift due to generations of toxic emissions, which further increased the frequency in extreme weather manifestations.
By the year 2073, attempts at curbing the shift were abandoned in favor of pursuing more compelling concerns. One such concern was the resurgence of shadow organizations that exploited the power vacuum following Overwatch's disbandment. Without a global peacekeeping institution, the world regressed into anarchy within the span of a few short generations. With tensions rising between humans and omnics, countries struggled to maintain stability worldwide. The fact that security became privatized did little to conciliate the mounting pressure as megacorporations capitalized on the peoples' fears.
The final proverbial nail in the proverbial coffin was the rise of Talon. With nothing left to stand in its way, it spread like a plague, infiltrating sovereign borders and operating with sheer impunity.
The streets were cleared of pedestrians as a strong torrent overtook the city, though automotive traffic remained at a fixed pace as ever. The heavy downpour hammered against the ancient cobblestones, steel roofs and glass skylines of the towering skyscrapers that jutted out of the city like the quills on a porcupine. Although deemed a minor inconvenience for the public, particularly the visitors, some of the locals have grown to tolerate the rains and even embrace its upfront, cold greeting.
One such local was Hugo Charles Wesley, and he did not shiver from the chilling bite of the southwestern winds.
His phone vibrated on the dashboard mount, showing the message: Op successful. All Talon operatives neutralized. Asset relocation underway.
He veered off the road and drove towards the front gate of a massive estate complex at the edge of the city. Upon being requested for a routine ID check by security, the barrier was lifted and off he went to find a spot among the hundreds of armored cars lined so neatly across the parking lot.
Acknowledged. He responded to the message; Upload After-Action Report and submit head and body cam file for evaluation.
After stuffing his phone into his suit pocket, Wesley stepped out of his car and straightened out his Chesterfield coat. He brought out his briefcase and braced himself for the brisk walk through the rain, foregoing an umbrella as he broke the one he brought with him on the journey to the city hours before, again courtesy of the strong winds blowing down from the coast.
Wesley was a man in his late fifties, it showed on the wrinkles around his eyes and the graying strands defiantly poking free from his neatly combed mane of dark brown hair, but he was far from frail. Age was a bill demanding its due and most men who hit fifty resorted to pay back in installments. For the lucky few, like Wesley, they had the option to ignore it entirely. 2073, after all, was the year in which modern medicine had reached new heights.
The man bore the cold midday storm with a calm resolve and marched off, heading straight for the doors of the estate building. By the time he reached the lobby, he was soaked to the bone.
"Welcome back, Mr. Wesley." The guards greeted, showing immediate recognition as he stepped through the front door. The household butler stepped away from his station and approached Wesley to help him with his coat.
"Please proceed to the drying dock and we'll have you warmed up and right as rain."
Wesley allowed the man to undo the buttons and straps, then slipped out of the dripping coat to climb onto the booth built into the wall adjacent to the main entrance. The drying dock emitted a high-pitched chime before saturating the man with pleasant streams of warm air, all blown from dryer fan vents in the floor and walls. Once he was finished, the guards scanned him for contraband items.
All they found was a standard military-issue 9mm pistol snugly holstered under Wesley's left arm and a tac-knife strapped to his right ankle.
"I'll have your coat sent upstairs after we've had it cleaned up, sir." The butler informed him. "Mr. Kurkova is waiting for you in his office."
"Thank you, that will be all." Wesley dismissed him and walked towards the elevator. He glanced at his watch on the way and picked up the pace. He arrived just in time at the aforementioned office, a room decorated with red carpets and display cases of artefacts, trophies collected from various places. Some familiar faces were present at the meeting room, one of which turned to flash him a wide and toothy grin.
"Wesley! Good, we can begin." The typical deep and rolling Russian inflection that came with Alexei Kurkova's English never failed to draw an amused smirk from Wesley. This time was no different.
"Kurkova, always a pleasure." Wesley firmly shook his old friend's hand.
"Please, take a seat." Kurkova gestured towards a vacant shiny leather swivel chair.
Only three other people were present in the meeting room, besides Kurkova and Wesley. All were representatives of international megacorporations. There were supposed to be two other members present, though their chairs remained empty. Wesley took note of this and inquired of their absence. "Seems a tad empty for a meeting, wouldn't you say?"
"Unfortunately, they will not be joining us today. That matter, my friend, is something I would like to address in this meeting presently." The tall, musclebound veteran replied as he sat down.
Kurkova pressed a button on the table to allow the meeting to commence. The windows darkened as the blinds crept up over the glass like black paint smeared across a canvas. The dimming light of the room casted faint shadows across Kurkova's hideously scarred face. A result of the ongoing struggle against the troublesome omnics, although reconstructive surgeries were readily available, Kurkova opted to keep his so called 'red badges of honor' as a reminder of the treacherous nature of Russia's true enemy- artificial intelligence.
The shadow council members who were present at the meeting were Director Weber from Eurocorp, a German defense manufacturing and research institution; Mr. Arisaka from Tsunami, a paramilitary organization based in Tokyo; and Director Grant from Armax Industries, one of the most powerful private contractor companies in America.
"Gentlemen, I know we're a little short due to some of our friends finding themselves preoccupied with ongoing crises." Kurkova began, "But I thank you all for coming on such short notice. With such pleasantries out of the way, I shall proceed with the matter in question."
Kurkova leaned forward and interlocked his fingers together as a holo-emitter descended from the ceiling. It displayed several video clips of global news outlets depicting the work of Talon terror cells in various continents, including but not limited to developing countries like Brazil, India and Nigeria. All who were hit by the Omnic Crisis and never fully recovered, all who became prime targets for Talon to exploit.
The atrocities committed ranged from bio-weapons tests on civilian populations, assassinations directed to cause political destabilization, and sometimes direct assaults on military installations.
"There is a plague, gentlemen, and it has spread across the world. The golden age of peace is gone, and while the UN bickers and debates about a solution- the world burns and the fire grows daily. "
"Let me stop you there, Kurkova." Weber interjected, having a semblance of an idea for what the meeting was for. "You didn't call us all the way here to suggest some form of recall for Overwatch, did you?"
"No, Director Weber." Kurkova replied without batting an eye, "I am well aware of your...apprehensions concerning Overwatch, and I assure you that the solution my colleague here would like to propose shall bring more long term results. Considerably longer term results, if you will. Wesley, would you mind?"
"Good day, gents." Wesley said after Kurkova gave him the floor, "My name is Hugo Wesley, what I propose is the reactivation of the Firefly Initiative."
An awkward silence took hold of the meeting, only to be broken soon after by Director Weber. "Don't leave us in suspense, Mr. Wesley. What is this 'Firefly Initiative'?"
"The Firefly Initiative was the a joint multi-national spec ops team that precipitated Overwatch. A temporary solution to the ongoing crisis of intercorporate wars in the year 2042, specializing in counterintelligence and conducting special operations against terrorism worldwide. However, due to the dissolution of the Omnica Corporation which led to the Omnic Crisis, support for the project was reallocated in favor of Overwatch."
"Interesting."
"Indeed." Wesley acknowledged, "But Firefly was only forgotten, not dissolved. We all know that the situation we find ourselves in is just going to get worse. We need to act now while we still have time. Firefly needs your support to expand its operations across every border, for the sole purpose of eradicating Talon and all threats to international security."
Arisaka spoke up, "We will require sufficient evidence for this initiative's competency, Mr. Wesley. Such an endeavor obviously requires some substantial backing on our part. You promise much, but the question remains- will you make good on your word?"
Wesley's phone vibrated again, and he fished it out under the table to take a quick look at the message.
AAR and footage file uploaded.
"I'm glad you asked. If you would wait for but a moment..." Wesley replied, placing his phone on the table underneath the emitter. "I've taken the liberty of preparing a demonstration."
A video recording, taken from the body and head cam recorders on two Firefly operatives, started to play on the holographic screen. "Gentlemen, I'd like you to meet Firefly Operatives Ember and Chameleon. The op they've conducted was a rescue operation at a townhouse in Belarus."
"Are we watching this live?"
"No, this footage was taken 12 hours prior to this meeting."
"Who, if I may ask, was the asset in question?" Weber inquired.
"Dr. Fabienne Dufour, a name I'm sure you know well, Director Weber. She was your company's foremost expert on nanotechnology, and was kidnapped from her home at Chateau Dufour in the spring of 2065. Our suspicions of Talon's involvement proved true, which this video will undoubtedly prove to this council as well."
Wesley sat back and allowed the footage to tell the rest of the story.
13 Hours Earlier
Mahilyow Province, Belarus
Chameleon checked his gear as the dropship carried him and his partner off to the indicated AO.
His gloved hands grasped the shoulder straps of his body armor, then adjusted them to keep his skin from chafing. He did the same for his balaclava mask, pulling it tightly so it would fit into his head and face snugly.
Fio, the Firefly dropship pilot, glanced back at the pair and announced that they were closing in on the landing zone. "Gents, five minutes till we reach the outer marker! Ready up!"
"Copy that." Chameleon acknowledged, throwing Ember a sidewards glance as he moved to check his weapon.
Ember sat in the same position he was in from the start of the flight, never once moving unless it was to adjust himself to the pitch and roll of the dropship. Unlike Chameleon, anxiety had little influence over his body, a trait that the former jealously wished he possessed.
"How do you do that?" He breathed.
Ember met his gaze and smiled under his mask, "Don't worry. The shakes will come after the mission."
The mission in question was a rescue operation for a certain Dr. Fabienne Dufour, a scientist considered to be extremely valuable to Eurocorp as she spearheaded many advancements into genetic modifications via nanotechnology. It made sense that Talon would try to 'recruit' Dr. Dufour for their nefarious schemes, and even resort to kidnapping and coercing her into cooperation when she proved obstinate. The Firefly Initiative remained active unofficially during the twilight years of Overwatch, and in a bid to gain additional support for the organization, Director Wesley focused their resources on rooting out hidden Talon cells scattered across Europe.
The fall of Overwatch served to embolden Talon, and by a stroke of luck, the Fireflies caught a whiff of Dufour's trail. The cell holding her captive appeared to be transporting her from one safehouse to another in an attempt to transfer her into the hands of another cell. Compartmentalization within the enemy ranks worked in the Fireflies' favor as transferring the asset rendered both cells disorganized, leaving a small window of opportunity for the strike team to exploit. However, if the rescue operation was to fail for any reason, Ember and Chameleon were authorized by Wesley to terminate the asset in order to deny Talon their prize.
Dr. Dufour's captivity, one way or another, would end that night.
Five minutes later, Fio announced. "Here we go! Touching down!"
The dropship descended smoothly over the snowcapped hill, then promptly ascended back to the skies once the operatives hit the ground. Under the cover of darkness, the pair weaved through the woods a quarter of a kilometer from the target site and approached the townhouse cautiously.
The Fireflies were both armed with HK420 assault rifles, a successor to the HK417 and the standard British Army weapon of the 21st Century, although heavily modified to suit the team's needs. Each carried a 9mm sidearm, extra mags, two nine-bangers and a tac-knife. Both rifles had suppressor modifications to aid in the mission's stealthier approach, although the pair knew that whenever the mission concerned Talon it would result into anything but stealthy.
"Taking point." Chameleon whispered as they caught sight of the townhouse's front gate. "Single guard at the entrance, two patrols on outer perimeter. Cover me."
"Copy." Ember crouched down and let his partner lead the way as he was the smaller and more agile of the two. He covered for him as they steadily approached the gate. Only a single guard was posted at the door of the townhouse, while four other Talon operatives patrolled the outer perimeter. The patrols had gone well beyond any line of sight of the Fireflies, so they took it as a green light.
"Okay, you're clear. Drop him."
Chameleon paused to take a deep breath, then faded into thin air. Underneath his body armor was a special suit designed just for him by Wesley's team of engineers back at home-base, which worked seamlessly with his particular oddity. The SEP did not create a supersoldier in him designed to face his enemies in direct engagements, rather, it created something that was better suited to a different form of warfare.
While this unique trait of pseudo-invisibility seemed promising at the time, the omnic advanced infrared targeting systems were still able to pick up Chameleon's emissions same as it would a visible person, rendering his ability useless in the Omnic Crisis.
To the naked eye, as it was with the case of the Talon soldier keeping watch from the townhouse entrance, Chameleon moved unseen until he was a few feet away from him. Even the rifle in his hands was cloaked in the bioelectric field generated from his suit, perfectly masked as its barrel was trained directly at the Talon operative's domed red helm.
The gun sneezed, and a flash of light was the last thing the unsuspecting man saw before he died.
Chameleon reached forward as the field shimmered and broke his cover, catching the dead soldier by his armor and gently setting him down on the snow. "Target neutralized, move up."
The pair stacked up against the door, with Chameleon shifting to cover Ember while he took point. Slowly, the Fireflies pushed through the door and entered the townhouse. Managing to gain entry undetected, they quickly moved upstairs, clearing room after room as they searched for the asset they were tasked to extract. The noise of a comm relay in one of the rooms masked their presence as they ascended the stairs.
They found more Talon soldiers sitting idly by the staircase, who were taken by surprise at the sight of the two Fireflies. They clumsily made a move to bring their weapons to bear. Ember and Chameleon dropped them where they stood and proceeded into the final room at the end of the top floor hallway.
Stepping over the dead men, the Fireflies prepared to burst into the room. Ember went in first, followed by Chameleon.
They found Dr. Dufour sitting in the far corner and hunched over a desk, busying herself with typing away on a small laptop. A shiny external drive was connected to the laptop, undoubtedly containing sensitive intel that would prove valuable to the Initiative.
The poor woman looked gaunt, tired and haggard as she turned around slowly to glance at the two operatives. Her long brown hair had been hastily tied into a haphazard ponytail, leaving several strands oddly hanging out like toppled cornstalks. Behind the thin glasses that sat on top of her nose, eyelids and cheeks dark with exhaustion twitched with worry. To say that Talon's been working her overtime would be an understatement.
Ember's eyes took in the small device around her neck, a metal collar with a blinking green light on its surface. Even a simpleton could figure out that the thing was a bomb collar, not powerful enough to pose a threat to anyone else but filled with enough explosives to render Dr. Dufour's neck and head into red paste.
She was not alone, either. A hulking giant of a man was sitting casually next to her, and upon seeing the Fireflies, he stood up to greet them.
He flexed his bare arms dotted with tiny circular implants and covered with thick veins as his muscles pushed them up tightly against his skin. Ember was no expert in that particular field, but he knew enough to know that the Talon operative he was looking at now was an augment- a supersoldier.
Ever since the Americans launched the SEP project, it revolutionized science as a whole and propelled mankind's progression to new heights. Augmented humans became the weapons of the future, as easily acquired as a firearm.
"Want her?" The Talon supersoldier said, "You gotta go through me."
Ember and Chameleon exchanged glances, then fired their weapons. The augment shielded his face with his arms and charged at the Fireflies, barreling straight for Ember and tackling him back against the wall. Chameleon dove to the side just as the brute pommeled his partner right through the hardwood and out into the cold outdoors of the Belarusian woods.
Chameleon got up and dusted himself off. He then proceeded to check on his partner by peering from the hole they made, then spotted Ember locked in hand-to-hand combat with the augment, apparently shaking off the effects of the fall just fine. The Firefly's rifle lay broken on the floor where it fell, shattered on impact when Ember used it to shield himself from the augment's attack.
"Dr. Dufour, come with me." He said to the asset, "We're here to take you home."
"No!" The doctor protested, referring to the collar. "You cannot take me anywhere! Not with this thing around my neck!"
"What're you talking about?"
"This collar is programmed to detonate if I so much as get within ten meters from my handler! See?" Dufour showed that the light had turned yellow, "It is now at yellow alert, and if I do not return to the ten meter safe zone I will die!"
"Oh. I see." Chameleon acknowledged, "Is there a way to get it off?"
"I do not know. Really, I don't."
"Well, maybe the big one can give us an answer. Follow me." The Firefly declared, grabbing the hard-drive before helping the scientist downstairs just as the Talon patrols, hearing the commotion, doubled back to investigate.
On the ground outside, Ember found himself in a pickle as the Talon augment shrugged off his blows and returned them with twice the punishment. Bullets just bounced off his skin, emitting a series of metallic noises every time they hit him, and using his tac-knife only made him angrier.
Still, he was running out of options, so he used it anyway.
The augment growled as the blade sliced across his chest, cutting the skin but not penetrating the subdermal armor that protected his body. He grabbed the Firefly by the throat and held him up, slowly squeezing down on his neck in an attempt to strangle the life out of him.
"Let's see that lil' mug of yours, I wanna watch your skin turn blue." He grunted, reaching for the balaclava mask and tearing it off.
When he saw Ember's aforementioned 'mug', a quizzical expression found its way into his face. The Firefly wore the face of a dead man, a man so hated by Talon that they went through great lengths in order to kill him.
"Gérard Lacroix?" The augment chuckled, "I thought-"
Ember growled and thrusted his knife through the Talon operative's eye, jamming it so deeply that the tip touched the man's brain. The augment howled in agony and dropped the Firefly. He doubled over and shakily attempted to extract the blade from his bleeding socket.
Ignoring the painful sensation of his bruised throat, Ember viciously kneed the augment right at the knife handle, effectively pushing the blade inwards and killing him instantly. No amount of subdermal armor could protect a man's eye, after all.
"Not Gérard." The Firefly muttered spitefully.
"Hey." Chameleon said as he rejoined his partner with Dufour in tow, "Nice to see you're still as resourceful as before. Help me find some sort of key or deactivation code for the asset's collar."
"I'll handle it, cover me." Ember said, referring to the patrols pouring in from the front gate, as he bent down to check on the twitching corpse on the snowy ground. Working quickly, the Firefly patted the augment down until he found a peculiarly shaped device that looked like an electronic car key. He got up and moved Dufour to cover as another fight broke out between Chameleon and the Talon soldiers.
"Hold still."
He placed the key close to the collar around Dufour's neck and disarmed the explosive. Next, he carefully removed the collar and tossed it aside. The scientist heaved a sigh of relief as she rubbed her neck, "Thank you."
Ember nodded and swallowed painfully through his injured throat, "Chameleon, time to go."
"Copy!" His partner replied, calling in Fio on the radio. "Asset is in hand, requesting emergency evac! Location, enemy AO, townhouse on the hill! How copy?"
"Solid copy, strike team. On my way."
"Here, take this." Chameleon tossed Ember an extra mag for his pistol. "Just in case."
The dropship hovered above the townhouse and proceeded to cut down the patrols in a deadly spray of 20mm semi-explosive rounds, effectively providing the cover needed by the strike team as they hurried Dufour safely within its hold. Once their asset was onboard, Fio beat a hasty retreat and flew them out of the LZ before Talon reinforcements came.
"Good job out there, gents." The pilot congratulated.
"Thank you, both of you." Dufour said, "No words can truly convey my gratitude but...thank you."
Both Fireflies accepted the scientist's words with a curt nod, then sat back to let the after-effects of the fight wear off. Adrenaline was till pumping through their veins, and even though they were well out of harm's way, they were still in combat mode.
Ember felt an uncomfortable, searing heat in his neck as his damaged throat healed itself, emitting a faint orange glow as both flesh and blood vessels mended themselves within minutes.
He showed his shaking hands to Chameleon and smirked, "There. There's your shakes."
Present Time
Kurkova Estate, United Kingdom
"I have to say, Mr. Wesley."
Wesley glanced up as Director Weber spoke up after watching the demonstration.
"The efficiency in how your operatives carried out this rescue mission is impressive, and I am curious as to how you were able to acquire such...effective individuals."
Wesley lifted his briefcase onto the table and opened it to show the Firefly strike team's dossiers.
Cameron "Chameleon" Sinclair
Infiltration Expert
- adept at combined arms tactics
- adept at counterintelligence operations
- former SEP supersoldier, modified with 'mimetic-skin' oddity and increased cellular metabolism
Edgar "Ember" Lacroix
Heavy Support Operative
- adept at combined arms tactics
- adept at counterintelligence operations
- former SEP supersoldier, modified with enhanced 'exothermic' oddity and increased cellular metabolism
"Hold a minute." Mr. Grant said as he read Ember's file, "Lacroix? As in, Gérard Lacroix from Overwatch?"
"I assume you two were well acquainted?" Wesley inquired.
"Yes." The American replied as he stared at the operative's picture, as he didn't get the chance of getting a good look at him from the video earlier. The resemblance with the long deceased Overwatch leader was uncanny, save for the goatee in place of Gérard's Van Dyke beard as well as the large surgical scar running along Ember's right temple. "Are they related in any way?"
"Well, Operative Ember prefers not to be associated with the man, but if you must know..." Wesley paused to clear his throat, "Edgar and Gérard are closely related. Brothers, in fact. Twin brothers."
"Ah, I see." Mr. Grant said with a smirk, finding it amusing that Talon was getting served its share of poetic justice with a wonderful twist of irony.
"There are other operatives lining up for recruitment, but let's not get ahead of ourselves." Wesley declared, "Gentlemen, shall I take your interest for your willingness to support this Initiative?"
"If it helps my clients breathe a little easier, why not?" Grant shrugged. All other members of the shadow council concurred with his statement, although some remained apprehensive about the venture.
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