Ok, so I want to explain something real quick here about what I'm thinking: Since there were two possible answers from Winston, there are two different timelines, which will each get their own chapters, labelled 'Yes' and 'No,' each with it's own Harter and own results.
Okay, I'm done here, have fun reading!
No
After a grueling 3 hours of bad jokes and pick up lines from Sombra, and Gabriel's groans of frustration, they had made it to the headquarters of Talon in early dawnlight. It didn't look much, it was just a small bunker just off in the middle of grassy plains. Which country they were in, Harter didn't even know anymore. The helicopter dropped them off before flying away to unknown destinations.
"So, I see your little girl scout's club is impressively large," Harter noted, muffling a giggle as he looked at the bunker. However, Sombra and Gabriel didn't say anything, both just walking into the bunker. Not sure of where exactly this would go, Harter followed, going inside with them. As you'd expect, it was a bunker, except abandoned, and mostly empty, barren of almost anything. In the far corner of the bunker was a small hatch, big enough for a person to fit.
"Let's get you introduced, shall we?" Sombra said with a grin, opening the hatch and sliding down, followed by Gabriel. Hesitantly, Harter followed, sliding down the narrow passage that the hatch covered. Although it wasn't a very long travel, it felt like ages for Harter, just on account of the complete darkness inside the space. Eventually it ended, propelling Harter out of it and into a whole new space. Getting up from the sudden launch, he looked around to see he was in a sort of warehouse, full of men and women in dark clothing, their faces covered by masks (most gas, some of custom design). Up in front of him was Gabriel and Sombra, both waiting.
"Welcome to Talon, Phobias," Gabriel said, extending an arm to the place. He had to admit, it was good, so much better than the girl scouts club vision he had.
"So, what now?" Harter asked with a grin, feeling like he could take on a tiger just from the energy the moment gave him.
"We have a meeting to show up. Well, more like a order to take up, consider it a test for you. You think you're up to the task?"
"Course I'm ready. What's the mission?"
"First, you have to meet the crew that will be accompanying you, and the briefing. Follow me, I'll get you introduced to everyone that's here."
Gabriel started walking off with Sombra, and Harter followed. They passed by the massive area they were previously in and came into what Gabriel had called the 'main workshop.' In it was a few different men and women tinkering and working on various projects of different purpose. The most notable one was a particularly thin man with sizzled hair with traces of soot, who wore a grenade holster-belt on his torso paired with shredded trousers, which were also covered in soot, and showed signs of heavy wear. In addition, he had a wooden peg leg and a crude, mechanical prosthetic right arm. The man was happily humming a tune to himself as he worked on bombs, coloring them red and putting smiley faces on them.
"Jamison, meet Phobias, the newest member," Gabriel interrupted plainly, shaking the man out of his time. However, once he saw Harter, he immediately brightened up.
"'Ello, mate! I've heard a lot about you, and I must say I approve of every little thing!" The man, who's name appeared to be Jamison, said with a wicked grin. "Name's Jamison, but I prefer Junkrat, it was my nickname back in the Outback."
"Outback? Oh, the Omnium accident," Harter said, confused for a second before a memory hit him like a speeding train. He had heard when he was down low, hiding, that the Omnium core in Australia had exploded, rendering the place a wasteland. The result of it was Junkers, violence, and overall mayhem and anarchy. Looks like he was face to face with one now. "I'm Harter, nice to meet you."
"Yeah yeah, same. Hey, have I told ya about ol' Roadie yet?"
"Er, no."
"Oh, well let me get him over then. *ahem* ROADIE!"
From across the workshop, a rather large man with a gas mask in the shape of a pig's face with short grey hair tied back in a knot came over. He wore no shirt, revealing a chest that was nearly hairless, and full of tattoos, the most notable one being a tattoo straight on his belly stating "Wild Hog Power." To his right arm was pieces of scrap and metal strapped together to make a kind of gauntlet, and pieces of shoulder and forearm armor as well. The man towered over Junkrat, Gabriel, Harter and Sombra, looming over then intimidatingly. Something told Harter that this guy was not intentionally doing that.
"Roadie, meet Phobias!" Junkrat exclaimed, laughing maniacally. Roadhog simply down looked to Harter and neutrally waved, not showing much emotion whatsoever. "C'mon Roadie, you know you respect the man too! Tortured omnics, the man, had the guts to do it right in front of Overwatch, too. What was it like mate? To slowly kill those who ruined your world, to watch their fancy schmancy minds tear in two?"
Harter took a moment to think before the answer came right to him, a malicious grin sliding across his face as he said it. "I felt no remorse for them. Why should I? I was just doing us all a favor."
"Jamison, where's Widowmaker?" Gabriel suddenly asked, slightly amused by the conversation beforehand. Next to him, Sombra was now missing. Despite this, no one but Harter seemed surprised by this.
"She's out on a mission I think. Assassinating some lady over in America I think," Jamison replied, adding with a wordless giggle at the end.
"What about Doomfist?"
"Same, s'far as I know, providing back up for 'er."
"Ok, Moria?"
"Mission. Boy, isn't that interesting? Everyone's out on jobs, while me and Roadie are here twiddling our thumbs! I just want to blow something up already!"
"That's what the shooting range is for. Well, since everyone is busy, might as well bring you two along for the ride," Gabriel said with a sigh, obviously not wanting to bring them along. "I'll assign you two to the mission as backup. I'll notify you all when the mission is taking place. Hasta luego."
"Wait, I still don't know what the mission actually is," Harter pointed out.
"We're going to a protected compound that will be temporarily storing top secret federal documents. We are to take it at all costs, authorized to kill anyone who stands in our was EXCEPT any Overwatch operatives."
"What? Why?"
"Because we're just there to take the documents, not to face head-on combat. You can incapacitate them if you need to, but don't kill them, we aren't there for them."
"Alright, if my only way of hurting Overwatch is beating them until they can't stand is my only authorized force against them, then so be it."
"Look at him go, Roadie, sick psychopath, ha ha!" Junkrat commented, laughing insanely.
"Yes, how hilarious," Gabriel said sarcastically. "Show Harter to his quarters, Jamison, then get back to work for the mission."
"Eh all right, hold 'yer socks, ya old man, ha ha!"
Junkrat rose from his seat and staggered off, making a wooden clunking noise with every step. Harter followed, while Gabriel, much to Harter's surprise as he saw it, turned to dark mist and moved off. Roadhog walked off in an opposite direction in the workshop, to unknown destination.
"When could Gabriel do that?" Harter asked in awe. As far as he knew, it was pretty much impossible to transform matter into a whole other state, or at least living matter transforming into another phase… still alive.
"That weird misty thingy? Hell if I know, mate. If I knew, I would have done it by now!"
Junkrat led him through the compound, showing him the locations as they went, cracking both bad and good jokes and puns along the way, and recalling stories, such as one time when Junkrat destroyed half of the training course, and blew part of the armory while trying to play wall tennis with his bombs. Sounds like explosive times. Eventually they stopped at a long hallway, where several doors stood, lined on the walls. The door they stopped at was labeled: room F4. Opening the door, the inside of the room was pretty big, plenty of room to do as he wanted. There was a decent sized cot against one wall, held up by strong chains, and to one entire side of the room was several tables, lined up with tools, scrap, and other gadgets. There were some Talon posters, a small but durable box TV standing on a stand next to the bed, and a small kitchen.
"Damn, this place is set!" Harter commented with a broad smile.
"Wanna hear something?" Junkrat asked with a sly giggle. "This is considered one of the worse rooms for operatives! You should see the quality room that Doomfist has! The mate's got one of them wide TVs, it takes up an entire wall, ha ha!"
"Well, I'll take what I can get. This room has more quality to it than the one I had when I was down under, hiding."
Harter walked over to the tables and set down his equipment, filling up the entire area of one of the tables.
"Well, I gotta roll, mate, gonna go prepare some mayhem for the mission with Roadie, see ya then!" Junkrat said, waving goodbye with his mechanical hand before running off, cackling madly, leaving Harter to his own devices. Looking around the room, he checked up on himself, seeing what he needed. He wasn't hungry, nowhere near tired; he felt wired up, and he felt bored. Looking over to the scrap tables, he decided to just start tinkering and experimenting a little with his weapons. Taking a seat at the tables, he scavenged the piles, looking for spare parts. However, at the bottom of one, he found a relatively heavy pistol, and by the looks of it, it was powerful.
"Well, lucky day to me," Harter muttered, holstering the weapon in his duster before continuing his search. Eventually, he found a decent amount of materials to test with, some tools, and of course his fear serum, kept in a small vial. "Alright, let's see if we can make this any more deadly."
He got to work, putting chemicals together and testing their properties, while at the same time determining whether or not it could work with the serum. Eventually, he had finished, making the fluid inside the serum a deep purple. Now to make this a little more… unique, he thought sinisterly, snatching items out of the piles of scrap and putting them together to make a new object. He built first what looked to be a makeshift flamethrower, with the obvious exception that it was not one. He attached a near transparent hose to the back of it, and then started to build a container. It was fairly big, at least a 1" 5' big in length, and 8' wide, shaped to be a cylinder. Next, he safely poured a good amount of his fear serum in it, doing his best to avoid the toxic fumes from reaching his nostrils. Finally, he sealed it up, and attached it to the tube.
"Wait, I'm missing something here," he suddenly remarked, rubbing his head as he looked for what exactly he wasn't seeing. He mentally and physically slapped the side of his head when he realized it: gas mask. He searched around for a gas mask, finding a small but usable one with a filter to one side of it, acting as both an input and output. Once again, he started to build, attaching protective lenses to it so it may protect his eyes (duh) and strengthened the filter's capability. Putting the final project together, he attached the mask and brandished his new weapon in his hands. It was perfectly able to fit next to his chemical canister, being just the right size to be strapped on to it. "Look out, Overwatch, I'm coming for you. Fear will encompass your minds, and plunge you into madness as the world burns before you!"