I actually started this? Whaaaaat?

Overwatch AU Pt.I
Old Soldiers

"You looking to collect a bounty?"

The soldier looked over his shoulder, eyeing up the man next to him. He took in the khaki jacket and the gun holstered at his hip, as well as the gleam in his eye. A mercenary?

"Barasa's offering good money," the man continued, giving him an smarmy grin. "This one's been causing him and his associates a lot of problems. Now me, I normally wouldn't turn on one of my own, but if the price is right…"

The soldier looked down and saw the extended hand. His eyes flickered back to the poster of a masked figure, before travelling down to the poster below, where his own visage stared back at him through a tinted visor.

The man wanted him to buy him off, so that he'd keep quiet. He snorted. "Where can I find this Barasa?" he asked, turning back to the first poster.

There was a familiar click. "I'd be happy to take you there myself." The man's previously friendly tone had vanished upon the realisation he wasn't going to get any money.

The solider sighed, and with a few swift motions the man was unconscious on the floor, his gun lying a few feet away.

"I'll find it myself," the soldier muttered, before heading off into the busy streets of Nairobi.

The compound was just outside town, it's walled luxury the polar opposite of the slums only a few miles away. It didn't take the soldier long to disable the guards surrounding the perimeter and help himself to one of their headpieces.

"That's all we have. Helix locked things down after the incident. We'll have to find another way in."

"No excuses." The soldier froze where he crouched, back against the compound wall. "For your sake, hope Kuvuli can get something useful out of this. Helix will have a weakness. They don't know what they're protecting."

That voice… The soldier reeled slightly, memories assaulting him against his will. It was deeper than it used to be. Harsher. But even so, he recognised the second speaker. Impossible.

"Any progress on our ghost?"

"Nothing. He's slipped off the radar the last few days."

He should go back. He was greatly outnumbered. But the voice taunted him.

"Well…keep at it. Once you set a trap, you never know what will fall into it."

The soldier has scaled the wall by that point, leaping down into the compound with ease. A guard spun to face him, letting out a burst of gunfire, but the soldier dodged each bullet, smashing the guard in the face with the butt of his gun.

"Where is he?" he snarled, activating his visor, but there were no targets in sight.

A cold breeze brushed against the back of his neck, something unheard of in the heat of Kenya.

"I'm right here, Cray," the voice said. There was a bang, and the soldier feel to the floor, his back crying out in agony. The bullets had hit him in the spine, and he found to his horror that he was unable to use his legs.

"Always rushing in..." Heavy foots entered his field of vision, and he looked up to see a figure cloaked in black, a skull mask covering their face. "I know your every move before you even think it," the voice continued, it's tone smug. "I always have. I always will."

The soldier's fingers reached towards his gun, but a heavy boot kicked it away. He gritted his teeth.

"I've been looking for you since Switzerland," the voice continued, cocking it's gun. "I knew it would take more than that to kill you. Now here you are." They levelled their gun at the soldier's head. "This is how it should have been. You at my mercy, grovelling at my feet." Their finger twitched on the trigger.

There was a gunshot.

And the voice cried out, clutching their arm.

The soldier managed to turn their head in time to see a hooded figure fire at him. Something his him in the back, and suddenly he had feeling in his legs again, the pain in his back receding. Nanotech?

"Wha-" he gasped, staring up at them. He recognised the visor from the poster he'd been staring at earlier. This was them. Barasa's ghost. They were smaller than he expected, dressed in loose combats and a long coat; but even so he could tell from their form that they were female. She raised her head from the scope of her rifle, and the hooded woman's visor retracted.

"What are you waiting for, Zeb?" another familiar voice cried. "Finish him!"

The soldier's training kicked into action, and he spun, launching himself at the masked assailant, and punching him right in their stupid, skull masked face.

"Use your gun you bloody idiot!" the sniper screamed in that second, familiar voice. "I don't have a clear shot, idiot, you're always in the way!"

The soldier, scowled, and then grunted as he received a punch in the stomach.

"You…" the masked assailant hissed, raising a fist, but a bullet zinged off of his arm guard. The figure in the skull mask turned to the sniper and vanished into mist. The soldier sat up in time to see the mist reform behind the sniper. She spun and fired a shot at him from her sidearm, but he dodged with a dark chuckle.

"Barasa's been trying to draw out whoever it was that's been sabotaging our missions," they said, advancing towards her. "But I never thought it would be you. A real ghost."

She swung a punch, but the figure grabbed her arm. "Not to mention him," they continued. "Guess we old soldier are hard to kill. But I should have known. You always took his side."

The woman swung a kick, knocking the figure's legs out from under them and sending them both tumbling down, landing on the floor of the compound with a thud. The soldier tried to get to his feet, but the sniper was in control, raising a fist and ripping off the figure's mask.

And then she froze, staring at him in disbelief and horror.

"What happened to you?" she gasped.

"He did this to me, Melinda," the voice growled, a hollow quality to it. The soldier couldn't see what the sniper could, but her face told him everything he needed to know. "They left me," the figure growled. "They left me to become this thing."

"Alec…" the sniper gasped, falling back.

"They left you to die. They left me to suffer…" the figure began to dissolve into black mist. "Never forget that."

By the time the soldier had got to his feet, rubbing his head, the figure was gone.

"For a second there, I was worried you really were going to kill me," the soldier said, staring at the sniper's back. She clambered to her feet, turning to face him. Even after all these years, she was still beautiful, the strands of black hair falling over her face thick and glossy, even though they were streaked with grey. Her remaining eye was as spectacular as ever, blue ringed with violet. Her light brown skin was more lined, and her nose looked like it had been broken a couple of times, but it was definitely her.

"Maybe I should after the stunt you just pulled," she said, glaring at him. "I had this place staked out for days before you came and ruined everything. You better have a good reason."

The soldier smiled, and walked over to her, pulling down his balaclava and taking off his visor. Despite the scar marring his face, he liked to think he was ruggedly handsome. He'd been good looking enough in his youth, and even with his blonde hair turned grey, he thought he looked pretty good. The ladies agreed. Not that he ever indulged in that of course. He was still a married man, even if he hadn't see his wife in years. Which was why it didn't matter how good looking she still was. Nope. Not at all.

"I was looking for you," he said, giving her a lopsided grin. "I can't believe that the Shriek was well…you." The smile fell from his face. "I thought you were dead, Melinda."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Just like the world thought you were. But I saw the news reports. And I knew. You're so bloody bullheaded you wouldn't know how to die." She snorted. "All the same, you're lucky to be alive."

"What can I say? The Grim Reaper saw me, and said it would be too cruel to rid the world of my beauty."

"I bet the whole super soldier genetics thing didn't hurt either."

He smirked slightly, the familiar banter easing something painful deep inside that he'd tucked away for years. But there was still business to attend too. "Melinda, this is my war," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "If you wanted to fight it, you'd have told me that you were still alive, not hiding in the shadows."

She turned away. "You don't know what I went through, Zeb. I'd failed everyone. Even my son. I decided it would be better if I was just a ghost."

"Mel…"

She turned back to him, and he saw the familiar stubborn set to her lips which had driven his absolutely insane during their years working together. Probably because it normally came before an opinion she'd refuse to change. "But I realised even a ghost can protect those who need it." She sighed. "I don't care about your vigilante, one man war. But I do care about you. You need me, Zeb. You need someone to watch your back. And you're obviously bloody useless without me, so…"

He snorted. "And here I thought I was recruiting you." He lowered his hand, and picked up his gun. "We should get moving."

He'd only taken a few steps when she spoke again.

"Just tell me one thing, Zeb. What are you going to do when the fighting's over?"

"I'm a soldier, Melinda," he said, pulling his balaclava back up and lowering the visor. "Our war's never over.

She folded her arms, but followed him out through the gate and out of the compound, back to the city of Nairobi and to whatever lay beyond.

"But seriously, great edgy statement and all, but Mia's gonna be really pissed to hear that."

"Okay, rule one, we don't talk about Mia."

"How have you somehow got even more angsty in your old age?"

"I'm not fucking old, Mel, I'm a silver fox."

"A silver fox still wearing a wedding ring."

"What did I say about rule one?"

"Now now Zeb, remember who has the biotic rifle. I'm the one patching you up."

"How is your son doing these days?"

"…Okay, rule one seems good. Rule one stays."

"You're not looking at that again?"

The woman could tell that he was scowling at her behind his stupid edgy mask, but the skull thing kept him happy.

"What I'm doing is none of your business," he growled.

"You're looking at a photo of two of your archnemesis' and yourself. In fact, it looks like a selfie rather than an ordinary photo. What's the matter? Feeling nostalgic?"

"No," he snarled.

The woman sat down beside him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Now, now, Alec. No need to pout because you got beaten by Cray, yet again."

"I didn't ask for your opinion."

"But you'll get it. We can't have them interfering in our business."

His hand curled into a fist, crumpling up the photo. "Contact Kivuli. We're moving up our schedule. I need him to get us into that museum."