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Morrison stood with his back to her, clutching the table next to him fiercely. His eyes stared intently at the hologram ahead of him. She could hear his labored breathing, could see the tension contorting his shoulders. Ahead of him, a single person spoke with the flat intonations of an impartial messenger. All around them, people stood like statues. Nobody spoke. Nobody moved. The silence inside the room only managed to make the voice louder. Imposing.

"-The images have circulated all over the world. Millions of people have shared them on social media, and governments are beginning to comment on the matter. While their source is still unknown, several reports have been made linking the famous hacker known as Sombra with the leaking of these images." They looped. Over and over again. Men in black killing. Men stealing. Torturing. Most of them unidentifiable. And yet, the bright glint of metal and vibrant green among them so obvious.

"Overwatch has denied any knowledge regarding the origin or nature of the images, refusing to make any further comment. So, what do you think Martin? Is Overwatch responsible for these men, or are we just being misled by this hacker?" Morrison's knuckles were white. Below his hand, the table began to crack. Angela's chest clenched. She knew what this meant. All people in the room did. Still, nobody spoke.

"I don't know Sophie. But their credibility is hanging by a thread. Their refusal may prove to be-". A sharp sound, and then silence. Morrison stood in front of broken shards, his fist still raised. Then, he turned sharply and walked out of the room with heavy steps. He didn't look at anyone. Didn't spare a glance behind him. Nobody stopped him.

Angela looked ahead. At the people in front of her. At the broken pieces of the hologram. At the cracks left behind by Jack. At nothing. Her mind was running ahead of her, and she couldn't catch it. She was worried that something would happen to Genji. She was angry at the possibility of him being guilty. Nervous about the implications this had on Overwatch. Apprehensive on what was to come for everyone. Paralyzed.

A scraping sound made her look at Gabriel. His eyes were dark. Determined. At some point in the past years, it had become his normal expression. He almost didn't seem surprised. She had known him for such a long time. He and Morrison had been inseparable. The two pillars on which Overwatch rested. He may have been ruthless, crude. But she knew what he fought for. Now, a black sheet covered him, and she couldn't see through it.

Slowly, people began to stand up and trickle out of the room. There were many things to be done. As much as she wished to stay in this darkened room and ponder, her time was limited. Tomorrow, things would begin to change. Maybe Genji had leaked the images. Maybe someone had figured a way through ATHENA. Maybe… this was the start of something a lot bigger. She looked at the retreating form of Gabriel, watching him disappear into the shadows. A theory began to form. And so, she picked herself up and headed for the door, as everyone else did.

The place was empty. Dust piled in every corner. Dried blood tainted an old mattress in the middle of the room. There was no light except the silver rays of moonlight coming through the barred windows. He was long gone. If he had ever been here in the first place. There was no furniture. Nowhere to find a clue. It was the end of the road. It wasn't the first time, but he had hoped it would be different today. He always did.

Tension. His jaw clenched. He wanted to scream. To stab something. But he was also tired. So fed up. The sheer will to kill his brother had propelled him all the way here. Through so much. And every time he came near catching him, he disappeared. Leaving behind a witness to question. An ally to torture. Something. But not this time. The clan had long lost him. All his allies were killed or imprisoned. Witnesses could only know so much. For the first time in years, Genji realized he had no clear lead to follow.

With a long sigh, he dropped himself on the mattress. Stabbed it with his sword. The sound was dull. His eyes widened. Maybe, he had hidden something within the mattress. A name. An address. Maybe only a word. Franticly, he ripped it to shreds. His movements were fast, erratic. His hands moved within it, pulling out pieces of cloth and cotton to look at them under the dim light. Rusty coils scraped against his prosthetics, leaving marks. Above him, particles of dust and foam flew with his movements.

Nothing. No paper, no secret box. His body stopped moving. He kneeled among the remains of the mattress, letting them cover him. He had fooled himself. He knew there was nothing more. But he couldn't let it go. His eyes searched for holes in the walls. His hands shuffled on the wooden floor, looking for loose planks. To no avail.

He remained still. It seemed he couldn't breathe. The image in front of him was of chaos. The floor boards had been ripped out, the walls scraped down. His fingers had clear indents on them, and he could feel a sharp pain pooling in his chest. He could see himself from afar. Freckles of dust and cotton dimming him. Low. Pathetic. And he could, for a moment, see his brother standing behind him. He would confirm what he already knew, and had repeated countless times. That he was useless. That he had never been worthy. That he was better off dead.

But he wouldn't let the bastard get his way. He would erase him and his words forever. And as the life drained from his eyes, he would look at him from above and smile. He stood up. Yanked his sword from the floor, and looked behind him with a glare. His brother wasn't there, but he would find him. He headed for the exit, glancing back for the last time. He turned back and tore the window open, letting moonlight flood the room.

The atmosphere at headquarters was tense. And he was in no mood to deal with it. He had plans to do, information to collect. Upon his arrival, he had wanted to head for the archives to demand ATHENA give him all previous knowledge regarding his clan. Instead, he had been immediately surrounded by agents the moment he stepped out of the carrier. Orders had come directly from Morrison. He wanted him in his office.

People in the corridors whispered as he passed, while the agents around him remained silent to any of his questions. He had been spared this treatment for years now. Going back wasn't something he desired. They had never been nice to him, and he hadn't been either. But as years passed by, he had become a teammate. A part of Overwatch. Even if he couldn't call any of them his friends, he still felt betrayed.

He had to remind himself of how Overwatch was as much a tool for him, as he was for them. At the end of the day, their opinions changed nothing. Right now, he was being escorted like a criminal. Some might say he was, after murdering hundreds. Some might say even before, being born into it. He didn't question it. It meant nothing. In a way, they all were. The only difference was who achieved their goal.

What was important was how much information Overwatch could give him. How much he could piece together to get another lead. He had reached an agreement with Reyes. Among Overwatch, he was one of the few that understood his thirst. The need. But for the past few months, he had rarely seen him. Something was wrong. When Reyes was present, he looked blank. When he was gone, it was for prolonged periods of time. He didn't care for the man's personal life, but there was something ominous in him.

He stepped into Morrison's office, expecting his familiar glare and patronizing attitude. Instead he found him seated, staring intensely at a hologram on his desk. Across from him, doctor Ziegler talked to him with hushed tones. They looked at him. Morrison's nostrils flared, his fists clenching tightly. He gestured for him to approach. He had never liked following instructions. Not when his father gave them, and not now. Morrison had always had a hard time trying to get him in line. But now, he felt his previous annoyance wither. There was something disturbing in the way the commander refused to look away from him.

He walked to the edge of the desk, adopting his standard defiant pose. The doctor cast sidelong glances at him, frowning. Morrison moved the hologram in front of him. There were pictures. Blurred. Dark. At a first glance, it seemed like any other surveillance footage. Then he saw silhouettes. A glow. Morrison's eyes glared through them. He began to speak, to question. But the man only flicked his finger, letting the images slide one after another.

It was him. It was Blackwatch. And it was murder. Theft. Torture. He recognized the places. He grew uneasy. He knew about these photos. Had had even let some be taken in an act of spite. But they had all been retrieved by Blackwatch silently. Destroyed. Yet, he saw them right in front of him. Morrison spoke.

"You know what this is." It wasn't a question. "It is the only thing the world has talked about for the past week." A knot formed in his throat. "I am sure you are happy now. Your little games have finally worked. You screwed us over." Morrison couldn't possibly believe he was the one behind it. He needed Overwatch. He wouldn't gain anything from it. It didn't make any sense. The commander knew it. He must. And still, the flame in his eyes couldn't be colder.

"I don't know- I don't care about why you did it. But let me set something straight. You-" He interrupted, desperately trying to get words out of his mouth. He was scared. "It wasn't me!" His yell bounced. Silence fell over the room. Morrison's face quickly contorted into a furious snarl. He stood up abruptly, slamming both of his palms on the table. The doctor flinched. Genji remained still, his heart beating wildly.

"It couldn't have been anyone else! I know Gabriel gave you access to Blackwatch's files! Do you think I'm stupid? Do you think we will just stand idly while you tear apart all we worked for? All I worked for?" He was leaning forward. His face was red. His neck was swollen. Genji could feel sweat forming under his helmet. The insurance he had relied on to keep him alive was gone. He was terrified.

"Jack." The doctor's voice cut through the rage. Her face was folded sternly. She looked at the commander straight in the eye, unflinching. Morrison glared at her. Then at him. He sat back down, smashing the hologram off. "I will not permit you to remain in Overwatch any longer. You have completed your mission. If it were up to me, you would be accused of treason." His eyes wandered to look at the doctor, glaring at her. "However, some don't share my opinion."

Genji's heart buckled wildly. He stared at the doctor, surprised. Glad. Her eyes were cold. Morrison continued. "You will leave immediately. Know that you will be tracked at every moment. If you take even one step out line, we won't be so lenient." It wasn't fair. He didn't deserve this. He had done everything they asked from him. He had been their weapon. Their tool. And now, they just got rid of him. But he knew he couldn't risk it. He searched for the doctor's reassuring smile, but didn't find it. For the first time, she looked at him differently. He missed her pity.

"Leave."