The damn metal taste lingered on my tongue even when I found my room. Someone at Overwatch went out of their way; they put my name on the door, both in English and in Cyrillic. Morrison hadn't given me any orders other than 'work with the tin can,' so I decided to see what this facility had.

They had a gym. And a damn good one.

It was old, like the rest of the watch point, but surprisingly well maintained. It looked like someone was using it when Overwatch was disbanded; if the weights that were left out were any indication, that person was a beast. Maybe Winston liked to pump iron.

I walked around the gym, examining all of the equipment. It had everything I needed to stay in peak shape, which was excellent. I may not be a bodybuilder any more, but old habits truly did die hard.

I quickly ran back to my room and pulled my little book from my pack. Back in the gym, I flipped through it and matched up the exercises that I needed to do with the equipment present. It had everything I needed for a full rotation. I could work out every day for two weeks and not repeat any exercises. Maybe this place wouldn't be so bad after all.

Flipping through my little book, I realized just how quiet it was here. There was no sound of weights being racked and re-racked, no grunts of excursion, no one yelling for one more rep or to finish strong. No one but me.

Back in Russia, privacy was a premium, especially at the front. It was partially intentional; it was the buddy system in action. No one could go off on their own and either get lost or picked off by a rogue Omnic. With a friend, you were safe. Or at least safer. But it also meant that someone was always watching you.

Here, in this empty gym, I could just be me. No more watching my tongue and guarding my thoughts. No more wondering if I was hidden behind web proxies and unindexed message boards. No more worrying that Operation Paedophilia had finally caught me.

Going around the gym, writing a schedule, it took me back to St. Petersburg. I was only there until the First Crisis ended, before our homes could be rebuilt, but it was where I got my start at bodybuilding. Being a kid, I could barely move anything; I would get in the way more often than not. I could only use it at night, learn the proper form to lift. It was so quiet and safe, it truly felt like home.

I began absentmindedly filling out routines for a few weeks. As I was writing, I remembered that pretty…no, thinking that will get you caught, even here.

I remembered that woman, Mei. Just who was she? She was treating Morrison and Amari like old friends. But she was so young.

A knock at the door made me jump.

"Sorry." It was Mei, with that smile that seemed to always be on her face. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"It is fine," I said, finishing a routine in my book. The gym wasn't quiet anymore; I had to watch myself again, to be careful with my words and lingering looks. "Has Morrison decided to take back his offer on having me here?"

"What? No, he hasn't."

"Good. I was…hoping to fight with him." I couldn't say I wanted to see her again. I could never say that. I have to get Overwatch back to fighting Omnics; I couldn't do that with being kicked out.

"I'm sorry, but am I interrupting?"

"Interrupting what?" I asked.

"Well, I had to ask what caused you to…you know, with Zenyatta," Mei said. I'm sure I made a damn fine first impression. "I didn't know you lived in Siberia when the Crisis began. I'm so sorry. Uh, what I mean is, are you planning on working out? It seems like a good way to release stress."

She was stammering. Must have made a truly big scene for her to still be off-guard. Just a big fucking Ruskie, making a scene.

"No, just seeing what they have," I said. "Being a bodybuilder is more than just mindlessly going to the gym."

"It is?"

"Da, completely different. You have to hit certain parts of your body each day; focus on legs one day, then back, then core, and arms, you have to keep it all in rotation. What most men forget is to even things out, or forget to rest and recover, to let their bodies rebuild the muscles they tore apart."

"Do all men do that? Just, work out mindlessly?"

"Not all men, but the ones who do unbalanced work outs, they are almost always men," I laughed. "Too focused on biceps or shoulders. They miss leg day, and look like chickens. Massive upper body, pencil-thin legs."

That made Mei laugh. Smiling, I forced myself to look back at my book, away from her. I couldn't linger on her face.

"So I have to make sure I don't end up like them," I mumbled, trying to think of something to say. "Just…getting a lay of the land."

"Well, if you're done looking around, they're about to serve dinner," she said. "Would you like to eat with us?"

"I would like that. The flight over here was long."

"Great!" She was all smiles. Those smiles would get me in trouble. "But I have to warn you: Zenyatta will be there."

Dammit. I must've faltered, because Mei began stumbling all over herself.

"If it's too much, you can just eat with me," she said. "Just me, and…and the others will be there by chance."

"Don't worry, I can eat with that can."

"Jack said you would have to call him by his name."

"The old man was making things hard," I mumbled.

"Zarya, please."

"It is fine, I've done harder things than hold my tongue," I said. "I will keep my peace. But if the Omnic—"

"Zenyatta."

"Yes, if 'Zenyatta' tries anything…"

"He won't," Mei promised. She sounded very convinced. "Zenyatta is an old friend. He's up to nothing."

"How do you know it won't break its promise?"

"'Him.' Zenyatta is a 'him.'"

Fine, I can play that game.

"Then how do you know 'he' won't break 'his' promise?"

"Zenyatta was with Overwatch before it dissolved," she said. "So was I. We've worked together a few times."

"How is that possible?" I asked. "You say you've worked with them, but you're so…how are you so young?"

"Cryogenics," she said with a warm smile, "but I wouldn't recommend it. Come on, dinner's getting cold."

The slop they had here seemed much better than the slop back on the front. That was one perk of being off the front lines.

The dining hall was large, and plenty of Overwatch men and women were eating. They nearly filled the room up. Being alone in the gym was nice, but being in a room full of people happily eating was pleasing as well, even if I had to be the Zarya everyone thought I was.

Mei lead me through the room until she saw Morrison. He sat with Amari, Angela, Fareeha, Winston and Reinhardt, both of whom somehow managed to squeeze into the little table. That tin can Zenyatta sat at the end. Fortunately, they left a seat for me at the other end of the table. I happily took it. Mei pulled the chair out for me; I smiled my thanks. She sat next to me.

Any talk at the table seemed to mute as I sat down.

"I'm glad that we can all be civil here," Morrison said.

"I apologize for my outburst earlier," I said. "I am Russian. And Russia remembers her enemies."

Morrison snorted.

"Funny you say that," he said. "It wasn't that long ago that we were in a conflict of sorts."

"What do you mean? We never came to blows."

"Good thing, too," he said. "We might've nuked the planet over a few times if we did."

"Ah, you mean the Cold War."

"What, you forget that happened?" Morrison asked. "My dad used to tell me stories of when he watched the Wall come down."

"Oh, we remember the Cold War," I smiled. "Don't you worry. Russia remembers you just fine."

Jack laughed and went back to eating.

"Capitalist Pig."

Morrison stopped to stare at me. I could feel everyone at the table staring at me. I went on eating, ignoring him.

Then Mei started laughing. I smiled; I was glad she was the first to pick up on it.

"You don't mean…" Morrison started. Then Fareeha saw my smile and she started laughing. "You're still not sore about the Cold War, are you…?"

"Dad, she's messing with you," Fareeha said.

Dad? He was her father?

But Fareeha got the rest of the table to laugh. Reinhardt was laughing the loudest. He was full-on pounding the table.

"She has gotten you good, Jack!" He roared. "The look on your face!"

"Not every day someone gets you to do a double-take," Angela giggled. She even laughed like an angel.

Morrison glared at me, his face burning a little redder than normal.

"Jack, please, it was a joke," Ana said, a hand on his shoulder.

"No, it was good," he said. "Can't say I saw it coming. Shit, can't remember the last time someone got the upper hand on me."

"It doesn't chafe your pride?" Zenyatta the Can said. I ignored him.

"It does, but that's a sign it's keeping me humble."

"What about the time Fareeha put black shoe polish on the inside of your combat visor?" Mei said. That made me nearly spit up my soup. Morrison, the Strike Commander of Overwatch, have a black shoe polish mask?

"How could we forget that?" Winston roared. "It wouldn't come off for hours!"

"You looked like some kind of bank robber," Ana laughed.

"I almost forgot about that," Fareeha said.

"It was a long time ago," Morrison said. He seemed to be taking it in stride.

"Long for you, but for me, it wasn't too much of a stretch," Mei said. "The perks of being in cryo, right?"

"Yes, you get to avoid the pitfalls of becoming old," Ana said. "At least, for now."

"Perhaps you can give her some pointers, Ana," Zenyatta said. "Show her how to age with grace."

"Hey, sucking up to her is supposed to be my job, Zen," Morrison said.

So this was how Overwatch was. These were the men and woman whom saved the world. These were the heroes they told us about. It was…it was nice to see them, nice to work with them, nice to have the chance of working together. This was more than a dream come true.

"Speaking of old friends, where is Lena?" Ana said.

"'Tracer' is on assignment," Winston said. "Following up a possible lead we have on Talon."

The humans that were drawing them away from the Crisis? This is important. I tried to look uninterested.

"Well, Lena likes playing with fire. Hopefully she'll know when to call for help," Ana said.

"I have seen a few pictures of Tracer since Overwatch was disbanded," I said. "How come she has not aged at all? She still looks very young."

"The short answer? I don't know," Winston said. "I have a few theories, though. It's possible that her chronal disassociation is causing her cells to live in a state of flux. It's possible that she's in her own little time bubble; I believe it's acting as a kind of age-retardant. It's possible she might not age at all."

Now that would be a talent to have. Never age, never lose your edge. Even if I stayed in competitive bodybuilding, I would only be able to compete for a few more years before I became the 'old woman' of the sport.

"Never aging, hmm?" Ana said as she sipped at her tea. "Maybe she can be the next great Overwatch cradle robber."

What?

A 'cradle robber?' Someone…someone at Overwatch was…she couldn't mean that someone in Overwatch was…attracted to children, could she…? No, they were heroes, saviors of the world. Why was she looking at Angela?

Fareeha sighed, like she had heard such an insane proposition before.

"Mom…"

"Yes?"

I wasn't the only one who stopped and stared; everyone at the table had paused. Not only did Ana had answered her, but Angela did as well.

"I'm sorry," Angela smiled. "She calls me 'mommy' too."

I gasped. Or would have, if I wasn't trying to drink water at the same time. My lungs burned, and I spat almost on command. I was only dimly aware of Mei patting my back as I gasped and coughed.

"That's it, keep coughing," she laughed.

They couldn't be…together? That couldn't be possible. How could they be so cavalier about it, so open? Weren't they afraid of someone reporting them?

The teacher stands in front of my classroom.

"The Omnics are a threat to Russia, but they are not the only one," he said. "They are aided by faggots, those who wish to see our country burn."

But they were all laughing, Winston and Reinhardt the loudest. No one was yelling at them, calling them 'faggot.' Were they safe here?

"Mom, please," Fareeha said.

It is Valentine's Day, and Natalie sits next to me. I should have bought her flowers; she is so pretty. But she is talking to the boys, and they can never know what I feel. I cannot be a traitor to Russia.

"Don't worry, I know that your angel is giving me a hard time," Ana said. "I've already given you my blessings, but I must know one thing…"

She approved of this?! This had to be some kind of trap; I've seen it before. The message boards, the promises of safety, only for the posters to never be heard from again, victims of Occupy Paedophilia.

The message board is silent. It has been for days. Under_The_Radar has said she found a safe place, where she could be who she really is, but hasn't posted an update. My blood runs cold. She must have been caught.

"What happens if I kill an angel? Would she become an angelic ghost?"

"I don't plan on finding out anytime soon, mother," Angela laughed.

Everyone was laughing. I had to fit in; if Russia had taught me anything, it was better to fit in than to stand out. I was used to doing things I didn't want to do. So I did whenever someone made a gay joke, or called someone a faggot: I laughed along with them. Hopefully no one heard how forced it was.

"You'd better. If you break my daughter's heart, I will break your legs."

"And if I die before that?"

"Then I will kill you again."

Was this a truly safe place? I knew better than to think that, but part of me was excited at the possibility.

"Are you okay?" Mei asked. She was looking at me. She could see my panic; my hands are shaking. "Does Angela need to have a look at you?"

"No, I am fine," I said. "Just…it went down the wrong pipe. Still bothering me."

"Well, if it changes, we have the best doctor sitting across the table," she smiled. I had to watch myself. I had to be sure this wasn't some kind of play, a cruel trick. Occupy Paedophilia was known for dirty tricks.

But I've seen traps, messages to lure gays out. This would not be the first time someone tried to fool me. If this is a trap, I would find it out. I won't be lured out. I won't end up like those men and women who trusted the wrong person.