So conditioning season came and went, where everyone but the omnics exercised their way to their fittest. Then came marksmanship season, where everyone strived to improve their aim. Soldier 76 could participate more.

12:00 P.M., Watchpoint Gibraltar, Shooting Range

McCree, Jack, Hanzo, and Bastion had their turn at the range. A number of steel, labeled targets hung and stood in front of them. The walls were dark with blue neon grout highlighting them. A tiny window was behind all the targets, currently left open due to the hot weather. Bastion beeped meekly as he let the humans shoot first.

McCree was the first to go, whipping out his Peacemaker and pressing the button to make the targets move. Upon the starting beep, the cowboy shot quickly until he reloaded and shot again. He then smirked as he spun the pistol around his finger.

"Congratulations! You only missed one target!" Athena announced, showing the statistics of McCree's shooting.

"…Drat," McCree murmured to himself. He walked away, tagging Hanzo in.

"You'll do better next time," Hanzo patted McCree on the shoulder. The archer pushed his bangs away from his cheek, readied his bow and arrow, and then gave McCree the go-ahead to push the button. He split his arrows upon the beep, hitting multiple targets. He kept shooting and occasionally kept splitting his arrows. When the time was up, he relaxed his arms and put the arrows back into his quiver.

"Congratulations! You hit every target!" Athena analyzed Hanzo's statistics.

"Nice job, partner," McCree patted Hanzo's shoulder, smiling.

"A mere product of hard work," Hanzo replied dismissively.

"Give yourself some credit," McCree winked, escorting him out of the shooting range.

"It's my turn now, lovebirds," Soldier 76 chuckled as he readied his gun. Just like the others, he started shooting upon the press of the button. Everything went well, even the helix rockets.

Until the program stopped running after a rocket hit a far target on the ceiling.

"Shit…" He whispered to himself, cocking his head back. He tried to limit his tics by keeping busy and removing himself from stressful situations. So far, it worked, but there were times where his emotions showed through his tics. Even then he tried to keep his tics as low key as possible.

"Markmanship program has ran into an error. Bird has been detected in the building," Athena gave a warning message.

"What do you mean there's a bird in building?" Jack tried to work his anger through, looking at the targets. There was nothing notable until…

A bright yellow bird with big black eyes perched on one of the targets.

If there's one thing Soldier 76 hated, it was being interrupted. He channeled his rage and let himself go into another one and began shooting between tics, "HOLY SHIT! FUCK! DAMMIT!" The bird kept flying away from each of the shots.

"SHIT!" He missed again.

"SHIT!" He missed yet again.

"SHIT!" He missed a third time. The bird flew onto a closer perch to the soldier.

"Reading a message from Bastion Unit E54: That bird is my friend, Ganymede. You're going to destroy the shooting range," Athena read, receiving a transmission from Bastion. The robot made a few panicked beeps and nudged himself into a corner.

"I'M TOO PISSED TO GIVE A SHIT!" Soldier 76 kept shooting until Ganymede landed on his face, "Oh FUCK! Dammit!" He clumsily fell to the ground as he tried to get the bird off him. Ganymede kept hopping from body part to body part while Jack kept thrashing about. Shaking, Bastion started to transmit a video message to Mercy.

Mercy was in her office, keeping track of the team's medications, until there was a popup from Athena.

"A message from Bastion Unit E54 to Angela," Athena spoke, then transmitted a video of Jack swearing and thrashing on the ground while Ganymede flew and pecked at him."

"For Christ's sake," Mercy let out an exasperated sigh and flew to the shooting range.

"This confirms that you need therapy!" Mercy called out to Jack. She walked towards him and let Ganymede perch on her finger, "What a pretty bird." Ganymede hopped towards her neck and nuzzled it.

"He got into the building and interrupted my marksman ship exercise," Jack corrected her.

"You didn't have to shoot him," Mercy admonished.

"I didn't know who he was. Plus I can handle this condition myself. It's not contagious and it doesn't affect me as a soldier. I am alright, so don't involve a therapist," He sat down, breathing deeply and slowly.

"You're in denial here. It's obviously affecting you as a leader."

"The Overwatch still respects me."

"They do, but they're starting to get scared."

"Fear brings obedience."

"Not a good way to think," Mercy shook her head, "Like or not, I'm taking you to a therapist." Jack growled and muttered to himself about how crazy it all is.

Jack sat down, arms crossed in a red lounger. He was in the therapist's office, and that's all he was aware of right now. The pills Mercy gave him were kicking in, as he didn't feel as active as he did in the shooting range. The therapist was a grizzled old woman, an obvious naval veteran with a bulky figure in a navy dress and spectacles. Her name was Gertrude Jones, a former captain who was a psychologist to countless soldiers, judging by the letters on her desk and walls. Her diplomas and certificates faced the soldier too, encased in a metal frame.

"My name is Gertrude and I will be your therapist for today and hopefully not for a long time. My friend Angela Ziegler referred you to me because of your issues with Tourette's Syndrome. May I have an introduction from you, sir?" She said, adjusting her spectacles.

"You can call me Soldier 76. I was boy from Indiana…"

"I was stationed there once. Continue."

"I was a born soldier. I enlisted at eighteen and I doubt I have ever came back since. I made it through the soldier enhancement program and served in Overwatch."

"Judging by your renewed involvement in Overwatch, you sound like many of the soldiers that have went through my doors. The ones that never really stop serving, or course," Gertrude began to shuffle through the papers associated with his name, "This will give me a background on how I will work with your issues, but first I am going to ask about your Tourette's Syndrome."

"I try not to give it much mind. The more I swear, the more people bother me about it."

"Have you thought they're just concerned and trying to help you?"

"I know Angela worries about me the most. It's a bit overbearing sometimes."

"Hm. When did you first experience the tics?"

"I experienced them once I woke up from an electrical shock in London."

"Any earlier experiences?"

"No."

"Have you heard of this condition before you received the diagnosis?"

"No, but now that I think about it, my uncle most likely had it."

"Could you describe his tics?"

"He coughed and swore. Unfortunately, rural Indiana was not open to mental health so he received no official care. He almost broke his truck because of a tic though. To be honest, that's my worst fear: To risk a life because of a tic."

"…Indeed. From what I could gather now is that you have not only have the condition through means of electrocution, but also there is a genetic component. Can you tell me how you cope with this?"

"I try to keep busy and keep myself out of stressful situations. My diet is okay and I'm active given my rank. I usually can keep a cool head but there are times where the tics break through."

"…Very good to hear. Angela tells me to prescribe some medication for you. How does that make you feel?"

"I don't like it and quite frankly, I'm ashamed I even have this condition."

"There's no shame in being here, Soldier 76. And there's no shame to carry psychological scars of war, as it's a price to serve our country. Any other questions?"

A rush of nervousness hit as Mercy's pills wore off. He realized he was being deeply questioned and began sweating. His eyes locked onto the personal papers in Gertrude's hands. He froze, looking at the decorated walls and then stopping at a photo of a young man in a ROTC uniform. This was a dangerous place but Gertrude probably kept her confidentiality. He sat up and pointed to the photo, nervously muttering, "Who-who-who's the faggot with the tuba?"

"Soldier 76, that is highly disrespectful- "

"I am so sorry!" He clamped his hands over his mouth, "Shit!"

"It must be the Tourette's talking, and I'm impressed with Angela. I didn't expect her to drug you with Ativan."

"You knew she gave me pills?"

"I know soldiers take Ativan before therapy sessions because like you, they're nervous at the thought of them. Anyway that 'faggot' is my son. He currently attends a military college, but he's working at a store right now, very far from one if you ask me."

"A good soldier then, good on you."

"I think we made good progress today for the hour you've been allotted. We should meet again next week, with the exception that Angela shouldn't drug you beforehand. She might be a brilliant doctor but I have the last word on whether or not you need medication."

"Have a good day, Gertrude," Soldier 76 got up and shook her hand. He walked out of the door after.

8:00 P.M., Watchpoint Gibraltar, Mess Hall

"See I don't help… or drugs." Jack bragged to Mercy. They were having dinner at the mess hall, beef and noodles.

"LEAN BEEF? AGAIN!" Zarya screamed, flipping the table, "WHERE'S THE FATTIER BEEF?"

"My Ativan kept you from swearing until it wore off," Mercy corrected, "While it seems like you have it together, I think it helps that you explore your condition."

"The less drugs, the less worry," Jack argued, "Also don't drug me."

"You were screaming and hitting the air! You can't go to the therapist like that."

"Ganymede kept pecking me, but speaking of exploring, I think we should all clean our rooms." A collective groan from the entire Overwatch team was heard across the entire mess hall.