Chapter 11:

"Doctors are dubbing this epidemic as 'Black Flu', and according to the Center for Disease Control it is currently being studied and a vaccine will be in production once the studies are completed. In the meantime, those afflicted are encouraged to treat the illness as if it were an average cold or flu, and patients are advised not to be alarmed by the black marks the illness leaves behind-"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to leave this on!" Mercy switched the TV off, smiling at the patient on the cot. "Your test results are surprisingly good, although your blood pressure is slightly high,"

Heavy only nodded, his eyes still fixated on the blank screen. Mercy continued.

"There is one thing, though: you never told me how old you were,"

"Sister and I stopped keeping track after a long time," he responded quietly.

Mercy considered this. "So, you're telling me you don't know how old you are?"

He shrugged.

"Well, when's your birthday?"

"Oh," Heavy winced at the memory. "It was...in May. The 20th of May, 2043,"

Mercy nodded, writing this down. "And how old were you when you were taken?"

"Twelve,"

"I see," she quickly did the math, making a note to check the Missing Person database for the year 2055, and she beamed up at him. "You are thirty-five years old,"

Thirty-five! Something in Heavy's chest seemed to drop when he heard this. Had he and his sister really been in captivity for twenty-three years?

"Can you answer me this, though?" Mercy spoke up again, getting his attention. "How are you so incredibly strong? I suspected there was some steroid use involved, but there doesn't appear to be any traces of that in your bloodstream,"

"I have not been given steroids since..." he tried to remember. "Since I was a young boy. They made me and sister sick. Barbie stopped putting them in my food after I got bigger, but sister had them until she matured,"

Mercy thought this over. "Who is this 'Barbie' you keep mentioning?"

"She is a witch," Heavy seethed, clenching his fists. "A villain. When we came to the bad place, she told us to call her 'mama', but we would not. She was no mother, and she would never be one. She made us lift things, fight robots and do strength tests,"

"You were being experimented on," Mercy realized.

"Yes," Heavy remarked. "Experiments. Did not know what for, but now I know. Barbie wants to make us into living weapons, just like she did when in my first life,"

Mercy's brow creased in confusion. "First life? Oh- wait, you mean- you mean when you were born the first time like you said," Mercy didn't fully believe in the idea of reincarnation, but it was best to just go along with what he was saying at the moment.

"She has not changed, not at all," Heavy shook his head. "Using others is all she does,"

Mercy reached out and placed a comforting hand on the broad shoulder. "Well, we're going to stop her. We've added this to our list of missions to complete,"

Heavy glanced up, smiling gently. "Thank you, doctor,"

Now came the part that she dreaded: telling him what they planned to do with him. She knew he wouldn't be happy.

"In the meantime," she took a breath, wringing her hands. "We need somewhere for you to stay,"

Heavy looked perplexed. "I believed I would stay here?"

"No...listen to me: we can't keep you here. It just isn't safe or ideal for anyone. I've been talking with some other agents, and they agree that, until we figure out what's going on, it's best for you to stay in a mental hospital-"

"No!" Heavy barked, making Mercy jump. "No, you will not! I will not go! You will not make me!"

Mercy tried to plead with him. "Please, listen to me, we're only trying to help-"

"You are not!" Heavy's voice got louder, so loud it made Mercy's whole body clench in fear. "You are not helping me by putting me there! If you care, you will let me stay and help me save my sister!"

"Please calm down!" Mercy put a hand on him again. She tried to sound comforting, but her voice wavered. "I want to help you, I really do,"

Heavy glared at her, a fierce determination behind his eyes. "Then do not put me in the hospital,"

Mercy stared into his eyes in silence, and she rose up. "I'll be right back," she murmured, exiting the room.

She headed for the kitchen, just where she thought she'd find Jack. He stood over the kitchen counter, watching Ana and Pharah roll up pastry dough while chatting with both of them.

"Jack?" Mercy began as she entered, getting his attention. "Do you still have that empty storage unit?"

Jack seemed perplexed at the question. "I do. Why?"

"It's the man we have in custody," Mercy explained with a sigh. "He refuses to go to the hospital, so my thought is we could just move him in there for now,"

"Angela," Jack began, rising up. "I really don't think that's a good idea,"

"And why not?" Mercy wanted to know. "Jack, the man is suffering, and if we want to help his sister we'll need assistance from him,"

Jack groaned. "Oh, no, we got wrapped up in his business, too? We've already got Talon and the Nomads to deal with-"

"Jack!" snapped Ana. "Listen to you talk! That doesn't sound like you! This man came from a terrible place full of terrible people, and you just want to turn a blind eye to that?"

"Exactly," Pharah agreed with her mother. "Besides, there could be more victims other than this man and his sister,"

There was a pause, and Jack sighed. "You're right, I'm sorry. I...I wasn't thinking," he tapped his finger absent-mindedly on the counter before confirming, "The storage unit still has a few crates in it and it has to be vacuumed, but once you do that it should be okay to use,"

Mercy breathed a breath of relief. "Oh, thank you, Jack. I'll get someone on that right away,"

It was 3:30 in the afternoon.

Spy blew a bit of vapor from his pen, his finger tapping against the table. "That is...quite a story, John,"

John had told them everything: his encounter with Widowmaker, the bloody showers, the tall figure, and meeting Engineer. He wrung his hands, rather anxious. "I mean...I never believed in reincarnation, but you and the kid have been talking about it, and now all this has happened-"

"I understand," Spy nodded. "I know what it is you're experiencing,"

John's eyes widened. "Wait- was that happened this morning? When you freaked out?"

Spy sighed. "Yes, yes. My experience wasn't exactly the same, yet I felt a presence the same way you did. Obviously, a higher power is at work here,"

Ferguson, who had joined the conversation mere moments ago, pensively swirled around his drink in its bottle. "Wonder why I'm not rememberin' anything,"

"You might later," Scout shrugged. "Maybe the creepy shadow dude's gonna go for you next,"

Spy exhaled some vapor, leaning back in his chair. "I would hate to keep bothering your omnic friend, Dylan, but-"

"Actually," Scout held up his phone, looking very proud of himself. "I did my research, and I found a music track thingy that's supposed to help do what Zenyatta does! We can do it by ourselves,"

"Oh?" Spy took the phone, his brow furrowing. "All you do is play the music?"

"There's more to it than that," Scout clarified. "Ya gotta sit in the dark and listen to it, kinda like when Zenyatta puts that blanket on our eyes. They call this, uh..." Scout tried to read the name off of the screen. "'Cognitive guidance'? Yeah," he looked up at John and Ferguson. "You guys wanna give it a shot?"

John and Ferguson exchanged glances. Ferguson took a long swig from his bottle and set it down. "Sure! Why not?"

Spy stood up, heading for the closet. "Try it in here, you two,"

"I'll pull the track up!" Scout chirped, scrolling through his phone.

Right at this moment, an unknown number began calling, and Scout paused, staring at the screen. Although it was a local number, he answered hesitantly.

"Hello?"

"Hey!" a sing-song yet quivering voice responded. "Hey, Scout, it's Mei! I got your number from Tracer,"

"Oh!" of course, Mei. Her voice was rather shaky over the phone, which made Scout think she wasn't used to phoning conversations. "Hi, Mei. How's it goin'?"

"It's going great! Listen, I found out where that symbol your dad drew came from,"

Scout took a seat on the couch, gesturing to his father that he'd be done with this call soon. "Okay, cool! Where's it from?"

Mei cleared her throat and began. "The picture is the logo of a company called 'Summit Labs'. They opened more than a hundred years ago, and they manufactured everything from weapons to household appliances,"

"Summit Labs," Scout murmured, his brow creased in thought. "Yeah...that sounds really familiar,"

Mei went on. "This is where it gets interesting, though: Summit stopped operation right before the Omnic Crisis, and they were bought out by Vishkar Corporation a little while later,"

"Vishkar?" Scout knew that name. They were that shadowy company the media seemed to talk about a lot. "Wait, wait, wait: if Summit gave us those Black Flu samples, and Vishkar bought Summit, does that mean...Vishkar caused Black Flu?

He could almost hear Mei shrugging over the phone. "Honestly? That's what it looks like, but we'd need more proof before we say for certain,"

"Damn," Scout leaned back in the couch, thinking over everything. "I feel like I'm in one of those conspiracy theory shows,"

Mei giggled. "You mean like 'Lifting the Veil'?"

"You've seen that, too!?" Scout exclaimed, jolting upright. "I thought I was the only one who watched that!"

"Yeah, it used to come on late at night, back when I lived at my old apartment!" there was the squeak of a chair, indicating that Mei had stood up. "Remember when they would have the ghost sighting reports?"

"Oh, my God, yeah! Those were so fake! But remember that one episode, the one with, the...um- shit! I can't remember what's it called: the weird things that eat people?"

Mei gasped in recognition. "The Wendigo special! That one gave me the creeps,"

"Really? Pretty sure that was a guy in a costume-"

"Scout!" Spy called. "Are you almost finished?"

Scout jolted. "Uh- yeah, yeah. Hey, I gotta go,"

"Okay!" Mei answered quickly. "Okay, see you later?"

"Yeah, I'll see ya around. Bye!" he hung up, a little reluctantly, and stood up. "Geez, dad, you could've waited like another minute!"

Moments later, John and Ferguson sat shoulder to shoulder in the coat closet with ambient music playing on Scout's phone. Neither of them spoke as they sat in the darkness.

"So," John spoke up, his voice quiet. "Any idea when it's supposed to kick in?"

"Nah," Ferguson shrugged. "We'll find out soon,"

There was another pause, and John remarked thoughtfully, "Maybe Rene and Dylan are just lunatics and this really isn't anything at all,"

"No, no," Ferguson dispelled the idea. "We're givin' it a shot, aye? That makes us all nuts in the head,"

Johns only response was a light chuckle. "Yeah, yeah,"

The ambiance seemed to drone on and on until John could hear Ferguson's breathing slow down, indicating he'd fallen asleep. John's eyelids began to droop, and he soon found himself getting sucked into sleep.

It felt like only a few seconds had passed when John opened his eyes again, finding himself on a wood floor. He pushed himself up, looking around in confusion.

He was in a small camper, and he knew what it was right away: his camper. His home. John stood up, roaming around before tentatively unlocking the door.

As he stepped out, he noticed Ferguson a few feet away. "Ferguson!"

Ferguson's head jerked in his direction, and they met up within seconds.

"Where are we?" Ferguson wanted to know, concern present in his voice.

"We're..." John trailed off, looking towards the base. "We're back,"

Everything was eerily quiet, and both men felt a sense of foreboding. Despite their intuitions, they headed for the base.

Ferguson opened the door, taking a small step forward. "Hey! Anyone there?" he called out. No response.

John wandered around the building, observing how it looked as though it hadn't aged a day. Rather, the base was frozen in some strange limbo, and everything was how both men remembered it.

They split up, with Ferguson exploring the workshop. He ran his hand along a crate of explosives and then proceeded to kneel beside it, undoing the latch.

"Bloody beautiful," he remarked to himself, cracking a smile at the piles of TNT.

He reached for a stick, only to jump in surprise when a voice behind him spoke up. "They won't work here,"

Ferguson whirled around, coming face to face with a tall, dark figure. The stranger smiled at him. "Though, I find it amusing that your petty obsession leaked into this life,"

"Do I know you?" was all Ferguson could think of to say. This person seemed vaguely familiar...

Before the figure could answer, John came walking in with a crossbow. "Look what I found-" he froze when he saw the stranger, and he immediately aimed the weapon. "What are you doing here!?"

"Oh, Sniper," the figure sighed. "So naive. None of the weapons you find will hurt me, so you might as well set it down,"

Sniper still held on to the weapon, his hand quivering. After a moment, he inquired, "Did you have anythin' to do with all this?"

"Why would you think that?"

"In the showers, with the blood, earlier today- that was you, wasn't it?"

Merasmus seemed amused at the question. "Look at you: such a detective. Yes, I was there, and yes- I've been helping you and your other friends remember who they really are,"

"But...why?"

"Hmm, I'm afraid I can't tell you why. Not at the moment, at least," he turned to look at Ferguson, who only stared at him with a blank expression. "Keep staring, dear Demoman, and I'll take your other eye,"

Sniper shook his head, trying to collect himself. "Can...can you answer one thing for us?"

Merasumus tilted his head in question. "And what would that be?"

"Can you tell us where Medic is?"

There was a long pause, and Merasmus drew back. "Ooh...are you sure? You will only have a limited understanding of what you will see, and it will be an event that has already passed,"

"What are you talking about? Just...can we see him?"

"Fine," sighed Merasumus, lifting his right hand. "You will see soon enough,"

The scene changed rather abruptly. Merasmus was gone, and the two men found themselves standing in the middle of a snowy parking lot under the night sky.

A man ran towards the parking lot, something clutched in his arms. As he got closer, they recognized him: it was Medic.

He glanced over his shoulder, and then ducked down next to a truck, wincing a little at some unseen discomfort as he pressed whatever was wrapped in a towel against his chest. A group of men with flashlights entered the scene, muttering to each other while looking through various car windows.

A pitiful whimpering came from the towel and Medic frantically soothed the cries by rocking the little, swaddled creature in his arm. The sight of a small, pinkish hand writhing out within the fabric confirmed it was a newborn baby.

As the group of searching men strayed away from where Medic crouched, Medic sprang up and ran for the woods behind the parking lot.

Sniper's eyes flew open, the chill from the snowy parking lot still tingling his body. He looked around, seeing the dark of the closet surrounding him, and he prodded the man sitting beside him. "D-Demo?"

"I'm here, lad," came the low response. There was a brief silence, an understanding that they'd both seen the same things.

The music track had ended, and Sniper grabbed the phone, pushing the closet door open.

Scout and Spy turned around when they heard the stirring, and Scout asked, "What happened?"

Sniper inhaled, recollecting everything. "It's...it's a lot to take in, so be prepared,"