Chapter 8:

It had been nearly an hour.

Winston stared at the large, beast of a man held captive behind the wall of two-way glass. The man had stopped trying to attack the Overwatch agents, and now he just stared silently up at the ceiling. He still hadn't spoken a word to anyone, although he seemed to understand English.

The door opened, and Winston stood up. "Anything?"

"No," sighed Mercy, crossing her arms. "His DNA doesn't match any records, and the facial recognition search didn't reap any results either. It's almost as if he appeared from thin air,"

Winston turned back to look through the glass. "What do we do?"

Mercy shrugged. "Honestly? I don't know where to go from here. Our safest option is to call local hospitals and ask if they're missing anyone. If they say no, we'll have no choice but to hand him over to the police,"

"I can make some calls," Winston headed for the door. "Could you watch him?"

"Of course," she nodded, taking a seat.

Mercy studied the man in the chair for what felt like an eternity. He was held by chains, though she saw he was visibly struggling with them. All of the sudden, he seemed to mouth something, and Mercy paused. Did he just speak?

She clicked on the audio button so she could hear him, and she listened closely. The chains clinked as he struggled, and after a few minutes, Mercy heard him mutter, "Proklyatyye tsepi,"

That was all she needed to hear. Mercy pressed the intercom button on the wall. "Zarya, please report to the detainment room immediately. Thank you,"

Zarya wasted no time getting to the detainment room in the basement, and within a few minutes, she entered with a concerned look on her face.

"Is everything all right, Miss Ziegler?" Zarya asked.

"Zarya, I need to know if you can try and talk to him," Mercy gestured to the man in the chair behind the two-way glass. "I just heard him say something in Russian,"

Zarya looked up and into the other room. After a pause, she nodded slowly. "Yes, I could try,"

Mercy breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, good. Please take care,"

"I will," Zarya muttered in response, cautiously opening the door.

The man stopped his struggling when Zarya entered, and he tensed up. Despite the fact that he'd attacked her, she still smiled at him and confidently approached.

"Hello, friend!" she greeted him in Russian, pulling up a chair. "Do you understand me?"

He stared at her, bewildered, and then nodded.

"Good," she relaxed, leaning forward. "My name is Aleksandra Zaryanova. What's yours?"

At first, it seemed as though he wouldn't respond, but then he asked, "Which name do you want to know?"

"Hm?" Zarya's expression changed, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Which name do you want to know?" he asked again.

Zarya shrugged. "Well...whatever your name is now,"

Instead of saying anything, he lifted his broad hand and showed her his wrist. Tattooed there was a number '5' in black ink.

"Your..." Zarya tried to process what he was showing her. "Is...your name Five?"

He nodded.

Zarya blinked, and then tried again. "Was that always your name?"

"No," he answered softly, looking away.

"What was it before?"

He looked back up, swallowing. "Adrik,"

"Adrik," Zarya repeated, smiling gently. "That's a nice name,"

"Thank you, but I preferred the name I had in my first life,"

Zarya tilted her head a bit. "First life?"

He nodded. "Yes. When I was born the first time,"

"You remember?"

"I do, and so does my sister. We both remember our first lives,"

A sister? "Where is your sister, now?"

"Still at the bad place," his face darkened. "I...I was supposed to save her,"

Zarya's mind was reeling, but it didn't stop her. "Save her from the bad place?"

"Yes, from the people," he explained. "Barbie and Ken treat us badly, but Ken treats my sister worse. He did bad things to her, so I came looking for help,"

"Where is the bad place?"

Adrik's face contorted, and he looked away again. "I don't...I don't remember- I pretended to be dead. They put me in a truck and then left me in a hole. I climbed out and followed train tracks, and I got on the train. That's how I got here,"

Zarya processed this silently, and she rose up. "Thank you, Adrik," she laid a comforting hand upon his shoulder. "We're going to help you,"

She left the room, where she found Mercy pacing there anxiously.

"Well?" Mercy wanted to know as Zarya entered.

"It is worse than what we thought if what he tells is the truth," Zarya explained quietly.

At the same time, Tracer leaned over her bathroom sink, pressing a damp paper towel to the roof of her mouth.

"So, anyway," she heard Emily continue over speakerphone. "Your mum said she would help support us until I find work again,"

"Uh-huh," Tracer tried her best to respond, spitting a bit of blood in the sink.

There was a pause, and Emily asked, "Still bleeding?"

"Yeah," sighed Tracer. "It's slowing down, now. Maybe I shouldn't have tried to eat something so soon,"

Emily gave a sweet little laugh, and it warmed Tracer's heart despite the tinny blood still in her mouth. After a few seconds, Emily cleared her throat.

"Lena?" she began, sounding somewhat nervous. "Lena, I wanted to talk to you about something,"

Tracer had a sinking feeling she knew what it was, but she asked anyway. "What is it?"

"Lena, sweetheart," Emily faltered but pressed on. "I-I couldn't take it anymore. Your mum and I bought tickets, and we're coming to see you,"

There it was. Tracer inhaled deeply, picking up her phone and carrying it with her as she came to rest on the couch, pulling her laptop closer to her. "Emily, you can't-"

"Please, Lena!" Emily's voice pitched a little. "I'm sick of not seeing you! It feels like you've been gone forever!"

"It won't be forever, I promise!" Tracer countered, trying to keep a gentle tone. "Emily, once I finish these missions, I'll come back! And you know what we'll do?"

"What?"

Tracer thought about it. "We...we'll go on a cruise!" she shifted a bit on the couch, the phone still in her hand. "A big, romantic cruise, with fancy snacks and a pool. And-and we can have those fruity little drinks you like! Doesn't that sound amazing?"

"It does," Emily agreed wistfully. "But how long do I wait for that? Lena, Overwatch has you working on multiple missions, and now you've picked up this 'Black Flu' thing as a side project! Those missions could take weeks, months, perhaps even a whole year to complete. I don't want to keep waiting here all alone,"

There was a silence. Emily spoke up again. "It's already settled. We bought tickets, and we'll be there in a week,"

"Only a week?" Tracer repeated, rather surprised. "I mean, you're coming all the way from London-"

"The tickets for that day were cheaper," Emily clarified. "I'll send you more details later, all right?"

Tracer's laptop starting pinging, and she noticed the group chat notifications were going off. "Yeah..."

"All right," Emily affirmed. "I have to run an errand, but we'll text later. I love you!"

"Love you, too!" Tracer responded. The call ended, and she leaned back on the couch cushion, thinking. It wasn't safe for Emily to be here, not in this base anyway. Talon agents were running amuck, Nomads were just as wild as ever, Black Flu was an issue of course, and then the incident with the intruder was proof that the base wasn't totally safe. It was no place for her beautiful girlfriend, that was for sure.

But, Emily was stubborn, and Lena understood this. Once Emily got a thought in her head, there was no shaking it from her.

The group chat pinged again, and Tracer sat up. "Right, what's all this, then?" she muttered, opening the chat to look.

As she scrolled through the messages, her phone started ringing again, and she groaned. "Ugh, what now?"

Part of her hoped it was Emily again, but she hesitated when she saw the contact name. Oh, bloody hell...I really don't feel like talking to him.

Yet, she felt bad about just watching it ring, so she answered. "Hello?"

"Hey, girl!" she could almost hear the grin in Scout's voice as he spoke. "How ya doin' this afternoon?"

"Oh, fine, just fine," Tracer sighed. "How's it going with you?"

"Eh, I can't complain. Hey, you talk to Zenyatta yet?"

Tracer had nearly forgotten. "Oh! No, I haven't, I've been busy. When would you like to see him?"

"Actually, there's been a little change of plans. I was thinkin' maybe instead of takin' my dad to see him, Zenyatta could come to see us?"

"You mean...to your hotel?"

"Yep! My dad's really fightin' the idea,"

The group chat pinged again, but this time Zarya had sent a long message. Tracer leaned in, her eyes darting across the screen while the phone still sat in her hand. "Dear lord..."

"Everything okay?"

"Uh, yeah!" Tracer reassured. "It's just...the Overwatch group chat is talking about an intruder we took in today,"

"An intruder?" Scout sounded intrigued. "Cool! Was it a Talon member?"

Tracer couldn't help but chuckle. She liked his enthusiasm. "No, no. We thought he was a patient from a mental home, but according to another agent, he escaped from somewhere else. He's a large, Russian bloke," her tongue brushed over the wound in her mouth, and she winced. "Packs quite the punch, too,"

Scout went silent on the other end, and Tracer wondered for a moment if he was still there. Yet, soon he replied, "Wait...you're tellin' me you picked up a big Russian dude who was kinda violent?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Oh, man," he muttered. "I think- okay, okay, hear me out: I might know him,"

Upon hearing this, Tracer typed, "Scout thinks he knows him,"

Right away, Winston responded, "Oh God no. Don't bring him here please,"

"Who is that?" Zarya wanted to know.

Over the phone, Scout went on. "I-I mean, I'm sure there are a lot of big scary Russian dudes, but I only knew one! Maybe I can talk to him!"

"How do you know if he'll remember you?" Tracer asked.

Scout paused for a moment. "Uh...ask 'im!"

Tracer typed, "Ask him if he remembers a 'Scout',"

Despite Winston's protest, Zarya agreed. "Fine, will ask,"

Minutes later, Zarya reopened the door to the confinement room. "Hello, again!" she greeted Adrik.

He actually smiled at her this time, and things seemed calm for a second. However, that changed when he asked her something.

"Could you take off these chains?"

Zarya froze. Her eyes wandered to the chains that bound his wrists behind his back, and then up to his face. After a moment, she nodded. "Yes...but you have to promise me you won't escape,"

He nodded and made a sound of agreement. Zarya walked behind him, kneeling down by the chair and removing the chain's lock. She braced herself, but relaxed when he just brought his hands up to rub the marks around his wrists.

"All right," Zarya glanced behind her, noticing a pile of boxes sitting in the corner. "Would you like to help me with a puzzle?"

He was quiet and then shrugged. "Yes,"

Zarya stood up, selecting a clock puzzle and laying it on the table. As she spread the pieces out and started to help him put it together, she spoke up again. "Adrik, you said you remembered your first life?"

"Yes, I do," he responded, focused on the pieces and he clicked them together.

"I see," Zarya went quiet for a few seconds before speaking again. "Does the name 'Scout' mean anything to you?"

Adrik paused, a puzzle piece clutched within his broad hand. "Why?"

"A boy says he knows you," Zarya acknowledged. "An agent spoke to him, and he says he knows you. His name is Scout-"

"That is not his name," Adrik cut in. "It was his job, his title. Where is he?"

"Right now? No one has told me, but I don't think he's far. Would you like to see him?"

Adrik thought about it, meticulously pushing more pieces together. "Yes," he decided.

Zarya smiled, turning away and rising out of the chair. "All right. If you'll excuse me,"

Winston watched from the two-way glass as Zarya entered. "Adrik has asked for the Scout,"

"Huh," Winston looked a little surprised, but didn't argue. "Send for him, then,"

Tracer and Scout had been mindlessly chatting over the phone when the group chat lit up again. Tracer jerked up, leaning in to look at the screen, and she gasped. "Scout! Scout, he asked for you!"

"What!?" Scout's voice cracked, and he quickly cleared his throat, composing himself. "Uh, 'course he did! 'Course he remembers me, uh, when should I get there?"

"I can pick you up," Tracer offered, slipping her boots on. "I'll be there in a few minutes. You're not busy, are you?"

"Nah, my dad and his buddies went shopping!" Scout assured. "See ya in two shakes of a cat's whiskers!"

Scout didn't know whether to bring anything or not, so he fetched his bag and draped it over his shoulder. He grabbed a water bottle from the hotel's mini fridge (after passing out in the desert, he'd become very cautious of how hydrated he was), and went to the door.

The moment he opened it, he became face to face with his father. "Oh! Uh, hey dad. You're back early,"

Rene's eyes narrowed. "Yes, John and Ferguson wanted to go to the liquor store, but I bought everything I needed to," he set the paper bag down on the bed. "Where are you going?"

"Somewhere important," he turned back and tried to leave. "Gotta go-"

"Stay where you are," Rene ordered. "Dylan, what are you up to?"

"Nothin' really," Scout sighed, knowing his father would keep grilling him for answers anyway. He checked his phone, waiting for Tracer's text. "Wouldn't matter to you anyway,"

Rene's eyebrow twitched, and he crossed his arms. "Really?"

"Yeah,"

"And why not?"

"Because..." Scout fiddled with the strap on his bag. He decided he would just tell the truth. "Spy, they found Heavy,"

"Oh, for God's sake," Rene groaned. "Dylan, I told you to stop-"

"And you know what? I ain't listenin' to you!" Scout fired back. "They found Heavy, and he asked for me. He remembers me, Spy! And he'll remember you, too,"

His phone vibrated, and he checked it. It was Tracer. "I'm here,"

"Dad, I gotta go," Scout started to walk through the door, only to feel his father grab his shoulder. He tensed up at the touch. "I'm goin' and you can't stop me,"

Rene said nothing for a few seconds, and then he removed his hand. "Fine, but I'm coming with you,"

"What?" Scout turned to flick his gaze up at his father, a look of confusion written across his features. "Ya mean it?"

"If I can keep you from dying of heat stroke, yes," a hint of a smile played across Rene's lips, but it dissipated. "We're coming right back here afterward, though,"

"Yeah! Yeah, come on!" Scout bounded down the hallway and gestured for Rene to follow. "This way,"