"So, how do you know Angela?" Reinhardt peaked out of the green-tinted windows of the Lord's Bar. The Talon operatives were still outside. One was on the phone, another had a large machine gun weighing him down. Reinhardt held Angela's gun in his right hand, a light derringer which barely fit his gauntlet.

"I'm a British operative. Assigned to keep Dr. Zeigler safe until further notice. She has had multiple personal threats against her recently." Oliver was looking through the window using a makeup mirror fished from his pocket. His sharp eyes were scanning the road. "They haven't done anything yet. Why haven't they?"

Reinhardt glanced over at the oily man with a grin tugging at his lips. "We have four veteran Overwatch agents in here." He exclaimed. "I doubt they'll attack us. We outmatch them in every way, and Talon doesn't have the courage to-" Bang, bang!

Reinhardt ducked as two bullets shattered the glass, punching into the drywall behind him. "Never mind." He was impressed.

Reinhardt stood, putting the gun to his good eye, and fired a few potshots at them. They dinked off of the sides of the armored truck, and the operatives ran to take cover behind the trees and cars. Somewhere in the rain, a woman screamed, and the amorphous silhouette of the streetlight crowd quickly dispersed. Good. The street was almost entirely empty, apart from the terrorists in black jumpsuits. Oliver yanked the large man's arm, and they both fell onto the floor just as the ratatatatata of a machine gun blasted through the windows and olive door.

"Eek!" Reinhardt heard Angela the gunfire passed above her. She looked up. Soldier 76 was almost entirely patched up, just a few pieces of fragmentation that needed to be removed. Her white dress was bloodied from the impromptu surgery. "Reinhardt! We need some cover!"

He gave a brisk nod, and took a step back from the bullet-hole door. "You, uh, might want to step aside." He told Oliver. The man slid away, giving the giant man a wide berth. Reinhardt let out a huge gust of a sigh. It is time to be a hero again! He told himself. "For JUSTICE!" Reinhardt bellowed as he charged the door.

Angela face palmed. "That's not what I meant." She called out meekly, knowing he wouldn't listen.

He punched through the wood like it was cardboard, and the giant knight charged through the rainy, London streets. A few bullets bounced off of his shoulder plate as the knight raised his arm, creating a wide wall of hard light. The blue, phosphorescent wall deflected the machine gun fire, and the ricochet scattered, peppering cars and the walls of buildings along the street. The agents backed up, seeing the lumbering giant step towards them, the bullets having seemingly no effect on his shield. Reinhardt lumbered up the street, feeling every bullet punch his arm through the shield. An agent ran into the armored truck, closing the door behind him.

He was halfway across the street when Reinhardt saw some of the operatives discovering his weakness. The man with the machine gun kept firing to force him to keep his shield up, and the others started to run around him, their rifles steady. They had begun to flank the giant. I cannot attack while I have my shield up… He prayed Angela work quickly.

Two bullets smashed Reinhardt's back, knocking him onto his knees. His shield wavered and began to crack. Don't fall now! He thought. His fist clenched and unclenched, wishing for the comfort of his hammer. If only he had his hammer, these fools would not still be standing… The machine fire kept peppering Reinhardt's shield, and pieces of it began to chip off and fall to the ground like the rain. Two soldiers behind him fired again, and the knight was knocked off his feet, splashing into the puddle beneath him. The operatives cheered, and the man with the machine gun loaded in another belt. He glowered over the knight and raised his gun…

Ratatatatata. When Reinhardt heard the machine fire, he was sure he was dead. But, in the rainy night, he heard the soldiers behind him collapse to the ground. Ratatatatata. The bullets pelted the soldier above him, making him spasm and shake in a morbidly comical fashion, the rain beneath him darkening as his suit was breached. He fell to his knees, then on his face. Ratatatatata. The lights of the truck lit up, and were almost immediately shattered by bullet storm. It's low rev almost was almost drowned out by the gunfire the vehicle pulled away, sparks glancing off of its metal carapace. The gunfire stopped, and the patter of rain saturated the air. The sounds after a battle. Of heavy nothing.

After a while, Reinhardt shoved himself up, feeling his back where he was shot. His armor was dented, but not pierced. He sighed as he stood, feeling his back and knees crack with the pressure. I'm certainly not as young as I once was. He grunted as he turned back around.

"Yer buying the drinks next time." Torbjörn sat next to a large turret forged of gears, guns, a lever, several chunks of the beer sink, and parts that looked suspiciously like bumpers from the defunct pinball machine in the back of the bar. His grin was wide, and his face as red as ever. His machine whirred with mechanical life, and Torbjörn tightened some bolt with a comically large wrench. "You like 'er?"

Reinhardt looked over the scene, and burst out into a gale of crinkly laughter. "I'm not even going to begin to ask you how you managed that." The knight limped back to the bar, and placed his massive hand on his shoulder. "I thank you, friend."

"Damn right, you should." The small man replied. He turned around, glancing back towards the doctor and her patient. Soldier 76 was already back on his feet and was placing all his holsters and knives over red bandages, although most of his guns had been taken for Torbjörn's impromptu turret. He flung his jacket over his shoulders and beckoned for the two agents to come back in.

"We need to get to Tracer." Soldier reiterated as soon as Torbjörn and Reinhardt were back in the bar.

"She has an apartment in Kings Row." Angela was packing away her stitching supplies, soaking lengths of red string and dirtied needles in vials of alcohol. "It's off the books, she and her girlfriend are under aliases. Talon shouldn't be able to find her for now."

"That was before they had the shade." Soldier rebutted. "They had sent Talon forces after me a few weeks back. I imagine that was her doing." Everyone looked surprised.

"But even Winston couldn't find you." Reinhardt grimaced as he moved, and Angela appeared next to him wordlessly, gingerly poking the dints in his armor and bruises on his face. "How-"

"I don't know. She's some sort of software mastermind." Soldier leaned against the bar, grimacing. His red visor glinted in the dim tavern light. "She sent me a clue that she might be after Tracer tonight, during this time of meeting. I figured she would be safer with us-"

"Whoa, hold up." Torbjörn raised his wrench to interrupt 76. "You're telling me that you were told that this woman would go after Tracer, and that she would do it tonight while we are meeting here, and you just went with it?"

"She's sent me reliable information before." Soldier shook his head. "I'm not sure about it either, Tor. I can't begin to understand her motives. She doesn't seem to be Talon, maybe just employed by them at the moment. Her tips had helped me save lives, after Dorado. If she says something will happen, it will."

The room was silent for a moment, and then Oliver walked back in, talking to someone on the phone. "…Of course. I'll tell them now." He put his phone down and looked over the heroes. "The local police have found something over in King's Row. An apartment was shot up, and several Talon thugs found unconscious or worse, as well as evidence of a gas bomb used near the apartment. There was one civilian casualty of the gas, being rushed to the hospital near the clock tower." His jaw tightened. "By most accounts, it seems this civilian was Tracer."

— O —

Tracer's eyes were nearly burnt by the bright, blue light. The ceiling was white. She began to panic, to move and wake up. Her arm felt cold, something being injected into it through the little, plastic IV attached to her wrist. Her heart began to rush, she felt claustrophobic. Her chest piece was crushing her. Where was Emily? The room around her beeped and beeped, and suddenly it was ringing and there was shouting and a siren and everything was crashing around her and she heard propellers snapping and the engine burst-

"Lena!" Tracer snapped back to reality. The light above her was buzzing slightly behind a blurry head. A monitor was beeping behind to their right. There were flowers on the bedside table. "Calm down Lena, it's me. It's just me." The familiar face came into focus, her sharp features lengthening for a reassuring smile.

"Mercy?" Tracer's voice was muffled through a suction-like breathing machine. She weakly brought her hand up to tear it off.

Angela gently pushed Tracer's wrist back down. "It's been a long time since anyone's called me that." The doctor's voice was soft. Sympathetic. "How are you feeling?"

Tracer tried to sit up, but couldn't make it off her pillow. Her bones felt like they had been solidified into into one mass. Her nerves tingled, like little spiders crawling just underneath her skin. It burnt. "Honest?" Tracer tried to smile through the mouthpiece. "I think I've come down with something, doctor. A bit feverish, and I've been having the hardest time looking at the light. Do I look pale to you?"

Dr. Ziegler gave her patient a faint chuckle, although it sounded sad. "You've been unconscious for a twenty five hours, Lena." She said. "Torbjörn and Reinhardt have been waiting outside. We thought your condition wouldn't get better."

Tracer twisted her head with great effort. The door to the hall was open, a shining white rectangle of light pouring in from the outside. She could see the glint of Reinhardt's armor from across the hall. There was no other bed in the room. "Where is Emily?" Tracer asked, unable to look up to see Angela.

The doctor hesitated. "She… wasn't there." She finally answered. "There is evidence there was a struggle of some kind. She might have been dragged away."

Tracer could hear her monitor begin to beep faster as she clenched her fist. "Where?" Her voice was strained. "Where is she?"

"We don't know." Angela admitted. "76 warned us about the attack, but we were too late. He's searching for clues about Emily-"

"No." Tracer interrupted. The victim turned her head to face Angela. "Where is Talon? Where is Widow?"

Angela blinked in surprise. Amélie? She furrowed her eyebrows. I thought I recognized that poison… "This is the first I'm hearing of Widowmaker being involved, Lena." The doctor responded. "But the authorities are interrogating all apprehended Talon agents they can, and we're having Winston run a comprehensive analysis of all their communication pieces and the toxins you were exposed to. We'll find her."

Tracer locked eyes with Angela for a moment, something ferocious lay behind that stare. Pure anger. Then the time-traveler sighed and let her head sink back into the pillow. "I know you will." She muttered.

"Get some rest." Angela said, fixing the blanket around her shoulders. "We need you in action. You've the most experience fighting Widowmaker, and not all the former agents are returning our call."

"Believe me, Mercy." Tracer looked over again, her cheerful look back behind her eyes. "The cavalry'll be there." You can count on it.

Angela nodded, and strode out of the room.

— O —

Soldier 76 shifted his position on the dull trashcan, seeing a black alley cat pass his feet. Then another. Then several dozen half-starved felines started to sit down around him, looking up at the old man in tattered clothing with disinterested, green eyes. As he watched them go, one curled up on the green dumpster next to him, scarcely a kitten. He stared at it through his visor, and offered it a gloved hand. The small thing mewed and pressed itself on his knuckles.

"And they said I would turn out to be the crazy cat lady." Jack looked away from the cat, realizing the woman who had materialized before him. Her black and blue hood covered all of her face except her left eye and a tuft of white hair on her forehead. She wore black pants and a dark grey sweater, which was covered by a translucent poncho glistening with rain. She leaned on a guitar case suspiciously large enough to hold her famed rifle. "Hello, Jack."

"Ana." 76 stepped off of the can, and some of the cats scattered. It was a little unnerving that most of them were black. "It's good to see you again."

The old woman smiled, her tattoo crinkling next to her eyes. "I've heard you've been getting into a lot of trouble recently, Jack. Want to talk about it?"

"No, I'd rather talk about this." Soldier 76 reached into his jacket and held out a shell casing. It was clear, strangely glass-like structure, with a hint of a blue substance inside.

Ana snatched it away and held it up to her good eye, incredulous. "This… this is impossible." She muttered. "Where did you get this?"

"It was found outside of Tracer's apartment, where, apparently, Emily Oxton was kidnapped."

"Interesting. The sight of the Widowmaker attacks, right? Then there's no- wait, Oxton?" The old woman furrowed her eyebrows. "Lena married? When? Why was I not invited? I swear, if you or Fareeha knew anything about this-"

"It's just on paper, Ana." 76 cut her off before she would go on a tangent. "Apparently they were waiting for the right time to tell all of us, privately. A ceremony would have been a target."

"Anything's a target to Talon." Ana grumbled, but she could understand the logic. She turned her attention back to the casing. "So, Emily is taken, Lena is hospitalized for almost two days… and the perpetrator was using my gun."

76 wished he was surprised. "Tracer said it was the Widowmaker who took Emily."

Ana scoffed. "Figures. She's one of few living people who have seen this rifle in action. The shell's an almost perfect replica of my own."

"Almost?"

Ana handed the casing back to the soldier. "Well, the shell actually is a perfect replica. But the gun isn't. Check there, near the back? There's a scratch."

76's visor glowed slightly, and soon the scratch was zoomed in, enlarged. It looked like the metal had been peeled off slightly of the top of the casing. It was almost impossible to see, even with his enhanced vision. "And?"

"There was an issue with the rifling of the first model of biotic rifle, the only one to have digital blueprints." She explained. "One section of the barrel was slightly bent on the interior, leading to a variable .6 millimeter pull up on the bullet when it left the chamber, and this scratch in the shell casing." Ana ducked next to Soldier as the rain worsened, forcing her to speak up to be heard. "It might not sound like much, but I needed perfection. So, as soon as I could, I replaced that section with a length of modified rifling from an old Bastion recon rifle. I haven't missed a shot since."

Soldier raised an eyebrow, although he wasn't certain she could see it in the rain. "And what does that mean for this new rifle?"

"It means it isn't new at all." She replied. "It's the old model. One of first, in fact. I would say one of the prototypes from Mercy's lab, but it doesn't bear her original colors…"

"And that lab was destroyed." Soldier frowned. "I should know. I died in that explosion."

Ana elbowed him in his good side. "Don't be so dramatic." She said. "Besides, the blueprints at least must have survived for them to get their hands on this." She narrowed her eyes, and folded her hands in her poncho. "Still, this doesn't add up. Sure, they might have a biotic rifle, but why use it? She easily could have just taken Emily then and there. Unless…" Ana closed her eye and lowered her head. She was thinking.

"Unless what?" Soldier didn't have time to contemplate.

"Well…" Ana even sounded uncertain of herself. "It is possible to make your own rifle, with several… insidious modifications. You would just need to get the old blueprints and the right materials. You'd need something large to produce many rifles, like a factory or…" Her eye shot open. "A Volskaya industrial pass. To one of their old production facilities and all the outdated parts that are there."

"So the attack on Volskaya…" 76 began.

"…Was perpetrated to get the gun parts and facilities to manufacture biotic rifles. Katya wasn't even the target." Ana finished. She shoved off of the wall and began to trudge out into the rain. "Jack, I'm going to Russia. I need to stop the production of these weapons before they become widespread."

"Then I'm coming with you." Soldier decided. "You need backup."

Ana sighed. "We're not doing this again." She turned her one eye back towards him. "They need you here, with Lena and Angela and everyone else. You need to keep them safe, especially if the Widowmaker is running about. And I need you need to look for Emily while I'm gone."

"Ana." 76 moved closer. "I don't have time for this."

Ana raised an eyebrow. "Neither do I." Pop!

Soldier 76 looked down to see a needle filled with a light blue liquid stabbed into his bad side. He grimaced as he collapsed to the ground, feeling the effects of the tranquilizer kick in almost immediately. "…Bitch…" He managed to spit out as he rather ungracefully fell on his face. Ana spun around, picking up her guitar case and brushing the rainwater off of her poncho.

"Sorry, Jack." She called back as she faded into the rain. "These rifles are my fault. I need to destroy them."