AN: IM BAAAACK. Ok so this prologue is canon but it's more to give yall an example of the new style I'll be pursuing, lemme know what you think. Peace out girlscouts.

Prologue

"This terrible rage within me bears your name"

The hunter stalked forward with a menacing gait, the red glow of his visor backlighting the carnage in the grimy alley way, corpses strewn around like the garbage littering the city, blood painting the stained bricks like graffiti. The coward backing away from him wouldn't be spared, no one like him would. Silently, Soldier 76 dropped a new clip in his rifle and stowed it on his back, at the same time unholstering his Stryder pistol.

"I- I swear man," The thug said, scrambling backwards on his hands, "I don't know anything!"

Soldier raised the gun and put a hole in his throat with a single shot.

"I believe you." He said, the visor distorting his voice into a demon's growl, "I'm not here for information. The bloodloss won't kill you by the way, but the suffocation will."

The fear in the gangster's eyes was all the satisfaction Soldier 76 needed. He turned on his heel to leave, pistol already holstered when he and his recent handiwork were illuminated by the harsh white glow of a spotlight.

"Soldier 76, do not move." a male voice rang out over the roar of a stealth helicopter marked with the insignia of the local national guard in a deep baritone, likely around his own biological age."We have you surrounded. Come quietly, and you will not be harmed."

The vigilante only heard the last part of the sentence from the other side of the fence he hopped immediately upon the light settling on him, his enhanced muscles carrying him away from the scene at the speed of an olympian. The helicopter kept its spotlight on him even as he suddenly slammed himself through a window and started rapidly climbing the stairs of an abandoned apartment complex, whoever was piloting the damn thing was good. Soon he was on the roof, with the helicopter circling to a stop above his head.

"Soldier 76" The voice boomed above the roaring blades, "This is your final warning. Do not attempt escape. If you do, we will be forced to open fire."

Under his visor, Jack Morrison smiled wryly at the thought of these weekend warriors taking him in, but it was quickly wiped off his face. He needed a way out, and he needed it now. As the ropes dropped from the helicopter, his visor flashed a possible route at him. 76 frowned. No other options. This was going to hurt. As the first soldier hit the ground, the vigilante surged forward and tackled him to the ground, slamming his elbow into his solar plexus before rolling off and sprinting to the edge. Before he had time to think, he leapt off the top of a 15 story apartment complex.

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Across the world, in a small private graveyard in Zurich, another person was leaping off their own ledge. Angela Ziegler stood in front of a grave, a simple headstone marked with the symbol of a dead organization, just like the rest in the field. This was the grave of Jack Morrison, the real one. The monument downtown was for the public to remember their hero, this small headstone was for his team to mourn their friend. In all the time that had passed since overwatch was destroyed, she had never managed to force herself to go here. She'd been to the monument many times, but the fact that this grave existed made that one feel less real, less personal. Now, standing in front of this simple headstone, it felt all too real.

"Jack," She said quietly, forcing herself to speak, "what happened to you? I've used every contact I can think of, but no one has any answers for what happened that day. I miss you."

She couldn't. Not yet. Turning and furiously wiping her eyes, she walked away from the grave of her friend. As she got in the car and retrieved her phone from the cup holder, she saw a missed call with a blocked id. No one she didn't know had this number. Frowning, she hit redial and held the phone to her ear. It only managed to ring once before her ears were assaulted by a frantic english accent.

"ANGELA ITS BEEN SO LONG HOLD ON HOLD ON WINSTON WANTS TO TALK HERE YA GO!"

Angela smiled in spite of herself. Lena always had a way of making her smile. The smile only grew as Winston suddenly spoke through the phone.

"Angela, its been awhile. How are you?"

She laughed, "Winston we're friends, I've known you since you landed here from Horizon. No need to be so formal."

An awkward pause.

"Actually Angela, I'm afraid there is. As good as it is to talk to you again, our friendship isnt why I called."

The doctor frowned as she pulled out onto the street.

"Oh? Then what do you need winston? Are you healthy?"

Winston laughed over the phone.

"Yes Doctor, and Ive been eating right too." Winston paused again. "Angela, there's no way to work around this gently. I've recalled overwatch."

Angela's foot slammed on the break in front of a stop sign, causing several cars behind her to honk.

"YOU WHAT?" she hissed, her voice stern, "Winston, that will make you a fugitive!"

"I know Angela. And as selfish as it is, I need your help. Most of the new, 'ahem', initiates are green as grass, and training for a team like this is bound to cause some injuries. I swear you don't have to get involved in combat if you don't want to."

Angela frowned,

"Damn you Winston. You knew I couldn't say no if you phrased it like that didn't you."

A guilty chuckle confirmed it.

"Afraid so. Your plane leaves tomorrow at 7. Get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon.

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Slumped in a dark apartment, a wounded soldier pressed the heated barrell of a plasma rifle to his wound, biting down on his belt to stifle his scream

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In a small apartment in zurich, A doctor prepared to embark on a path she thought she had long since left behind.

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In a dark command center in Gibraltar, a scientist watched in outrage as news coverage of the newly dubbed Slum Massacre. Whoever this 76 character was, he had to be stopped.

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In front of a single station in an undisclosed location, a pair of black clad fists clenched on the desk. Soon.