I still feel a bit rusty getting into the swing of things. I hadn't expect many readers, but I'm glad you all enjoy. Favorites and follows are nice and all, but I love comments, they keep me going. Please enjoy!
Tracer was nervous. It was partly due to the fact that the Overwatch base in Zürich was destroyed a week ago in a fight between Jack Morrison and Gabriel Reyes, partly due to the response by the United Nations effectively shutting down all operations headed by Overwatch and consequently every Overwatch agent was forced in retirement/gone into hiding. But mostly, Tracer was nervous because of this statue of Dike was staring right her.
It was a strange choice, having a statue of a Greek goddess in the United Nations headquarters in Switzerland, but it was effective. Dike stood in front of Tracer, her marble visage fixed in a grim expression, almost a snarl, as she looked down at Tracer as if trying to blow up the Londoner with her laser eyes. Tracer hoped this statue didn't have laser eyes.
Eight days ago, the Overwatch headquarters in Zürich was completely obliterated in an apparent bout against Jack and Gabriel. Tracer was nowhere near the base as she was in London trying to talk Parliament out of an internal investigation. Welp, now that the base is gone, Tracer supposed an investigation wouldn't be out of the question.
She was called to the United Nations soon after for an interview. The United Nations had apparently collaborated with MI6, the CIA and numerous other intelligence agencies to track down former and current Overwatch members. If Tracer had her way, it would be impossible to find her but she peacefully came.
Tracer was very quickly regretting that decision. As soon as she landed in Switzerland the news was made public. Overwatch was officially disbanded. The Petras Act was swiftly put into place, and when Tracer said swiftly she meant it, almost as if the UN had foreseen this event because putting an act like that so quickly was impossible!
Maybe…
"Ms. Oxton?" the secretary, Lara I think her name was, indicated with a bright smile. "They are ready for you."
Tracer put on a brave smile and stood. "I told you, call me Tracer! Or Lena. Thanks love!" Tracer winked at the lovely Lara, who blushed and giggled, and strode confidently into the council.
Her confidence was almost immediately shattered.
Only fifty of the nearly 200 United Nations panel showed up to this interview but that was still fifty pairs of eyes focused directly on Tracer as she stepped in and stood center-stage whilst the panel looked down on her.
"Ms. Lena Oxton, call sign: Tracer…"
"Yessir!" Automatically, the Royal Air Force pilot stood at attention but that hardly impressed the panel.
"That was not a role call," a woman representing the Ukraine snapped, rolling her eyes.
"Oh… Sorry love!"
The United Kingdom rep, a bloke from Manchester, continued. "Former member of the Royal Air Force, head of the Slipstream Squadron, ranked Commodore and finally left to join the ranks of Overwatch. Age twenty-six…" He glanced over his paper at Tracer as to verify her age. "Fairly major accomplishments for someone so young."
"What can I say, I've got a knack for being awesome!"
"Or would you say your father's former position as Marshal of the Royal Air Force influenced your rise to glory?"
Tracer was right gobsmacked by that accusation. She stepped back as if physically struck. "I'm sorry?"
"That information is hardly pertinent," the United States rep, a woman with a really thick Louisiana accent chimed in. "What we need to know of one Strike-Commander Jack Morrison."
The wall behind the panel illuminated and projected the handsome appearance of Jack Morrison. Tracer's heart felt like it was being squeezed and she steeled herself against the questions. For days she heard the news and people alike tear down Jack, claiming he was a terrorist or mentally unbalanced. It tore her apart, she tried to step in and intervene but they would just turn their anger on her.
"Did you know if Commander Morrison held any pro-Omnic beliefs?" the UK bloke asked.
"Pro-Omnic… You mean if he was against humans? You lot realized he fought against the Omnic-Crisis but for a better outcomes on both sides?"
The panel bristled, annoyed that this girl refused to answer their questions. "Are you aware of any connections to extremist parties Commander Morrison may have had?"
"He- We are friends with blooming monks!" Tracer snapped. "We spent half our time putting down extremists!"
Why weren't they asking about Gabriel? He was the orchestrator behind the downfall of Overwatch if what Mercy said was true. Why are they so determined on Jack?
"Answer our questions, Ms. Oxton."
"No!" Tracer said, pausing for a moment. She counted to three and took a breath. "No, he didn't have any affiliation to extremist groups."
"What about the battle that ensued in Zürich?" the Ugandan rep asked. "Our reports indicate a fight occurred between Commander Morrison and fellow Overwatch agents. Are you aware of Commander Morrison's attempt to destroy Overwatch?"
"Wha- are you lot mad?!" Tracer shouted, her chronal accelerator buzzing madly. "It wasn't Jack, it was Gabriel!"
"Our investigators indicated-"
"They're wrong then!" Tracer interrupted. "It wasn't Jack!"
The panel remained quiet for a few moments. "Then you intend on aligning with Commander Morrison?"
Tracer's blood ran cold. Was this their plan? To somehow implicate Jack and get Tracer guilty by proxy?
"Your chronal accelerator," said the Ukraine rep. "What are its offensive capacities? The designs concerning the weapon were lost in the battle."
Weapon?
"This isn't-"
"That is quite enough, ladies and gentlemen."
Tracer's heart leapt as she turned and saw her guardian angel descend. Well not descend per se but she strode down from the entrance to where Tracer was. It was weird not seeing her in Valkyrie Emergency-Response Suit, but she looked beautiful in her business suit, heels and thick-rimmed glasses.
"Angie!" Tracer yelped, running up to hug her. But uncharacteristically, Angela dismissed her hug and kept her focus on the panel.
"Dr. Ziegler, you are not cleared to sit in on this hearing!" The US rep snapped.
"I am when it concerns Ms. Oxton," Angela answered, her voice smooth as silk. "And when your 'hearing' is conducted in a dark corner, concerning matters that Ms. Oxton would have no knowledge of."
"Wha-"
"This battle you are talking about," Angela continued, undeterred by Tracer's flabbergasted expression. "Ms. Oxton was not a part of, in fact, she was in London as numerous eyewitnesses can attest to. So to ask her about it would be inherently erogenous."
"The legitimacy of our inquiry is for the panel to decide, not some medic," sneered the Bolivian rep.
"Secondly, your 'inquiry' concerning Ms. Oxton's chronal inhibitor is misleading. It is not a weapon, of course."
"Chronal inhibitor?" The US rep sat up, looking through her papers. "Our scientists designated the weapon as a chronal accelerator."
"Semantics," Angela countered. "It's important. Ms. Oxton suffers from a condition called chronal disassociation. In layman's terms, she is no longer tethered to a coherent and linear timeline."
The panel looked around, confused. "The chronal inhibitor essentially forces her to remain in this timeline. Otherwise, she would literally disappear before our eyes. Therefore, it is not a weapon."
"How would you classify it then?"
Angela shrugged. "A very expensive, very shiny prosthesis?"
"This is hardly a laughing matter, Dr. Ziegler. By that matter, doctor, you are not a lawyer, you cannot represent Ms. Oxton."
"Oh, no, no," Angela said, laughing. "You are right. I am not a lawyer, I am something better. A doctor. Or, more aptly, her doctor."
Angela stepped to the side, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Tracer.
The panel scuffed, chuckling to themselves. "That hardly makes you an expert on the chronal accelerator."
"No?" Angela crossed her arms, smiling. "Tell me, what will happen if the chronal inhibitor reacts a negative temporal output and a positive spatial input?"
No response.
"Do you know the effects of slipstream travel on Tracer's body?"
Silence.
"No? Tell me then, do you even know what would happen if the chronal inhibitor reaches an overload state? Like, say, if you remove it from Tracer's body?"
…
"I'll tell you. All of the energy, the chronon particles, the radiation will condense into a single point. It will do so until it reaches capacity and collapse in on itself, time and space and gravity condensed into one point, in and in and in on itself. Do you know what that is called? A black hole."
The board was left in stunned silence. With that, Angela smiled, took Tracer by the arm, and bowed slightly. "I see this meeting is now finished, I will take my leave. Oh, and if any of you have a problem with that, please feel free to debate amongst yourself. It appears to be the only thing you are good at."
Once they left the room, Tracer burst out into a massive grin, jumping and dancing in place. "Whoa! That was top, Angie! I didn't know you were such a badass! Much less a bloody expert on theoretical physics!"
Angela however leaned up against the wall, clutching her rapidly beating heart, trying to calm herself. Tracer was by her side, holding her up practically as the good doctor leaned against her. "I am glad you appreciated that act."
"Act?"
Angela nodded. "The information on your accelerator I gathered from Winston, but the rest was a simple act. Something to get the UN off your back for a little while."
Then suddenly, Angela stood and hugged Tracer, embracing the much smaller girl in a bear hug. Tracer relished the warmth of her hug, it was a nice change from the cold, distant demeanor Angela had been using whilst in the meeting.
"Apologies if I seemed… unfriendly," Angela muttered into Tracer's ear, tickling her. "If the panel saw us as anything more than doctor-patient, they would suggest my bias clouds my judgment."
"That's fine, love."
Angela broke the hug, Tracer immediately felt cold but she knew people were still watching. "I, myself, am under investigation by the United Nations. A multitude of panels and ethic committees looking for someone to blame. It is all I can do to keep them off our scent."
"But why, what happened?" Tracer asked. "You only told me a fight broke out, but what happened to Gabriel? And Jack, is he?..."
"It is a long story," Angela sighed…
/
A state of emergency had been called in Switzerland as the government attempted to evacuate the neighboring cities. There had been rumors circulating about the explosion being a terrorist attack, perhaps disgruntled omnics or worst agencies like Talon attacking.
I had been first response, of course. Jack sent me to evacuate the rest of Overwatch, he must've predicted the fight between him and Blackwatch and knew that if Overwatch got involved there would've been a lot more casualties.
We had been about five miles from the base and we still felt the explosion. I ordered the rest of Overwatch to flee the country whilst I return, I am a citizen of Switzerland so I wouldn't be in too much trouble when the police arrived.
The base had been reduced to rubble. Whatever happened it wasn't a standard bomb, from what I observed there were explosives strapped to the base's power supply for maximum damage. There were only Blackwatch agents in the base, but still, to see their mangled bodies, half-incinerated wasn't a pleasant sight.
It was in the center base where I found him.
Half-dead, laid out on the ground neatly was Gabriel Reyes. My heart boiled at the sight of the traitor, but as I got closer, my skin crawled. He was underneath a massive pillar, somehow despite his condition he was able to crawl out from under it, but…
"Gabriel!" I turned my caduceus to him, immediately attempting to stop his blood loss but it was too much.
Gabriel opened his eyes and looked at me. Delirious, he wasn't able to focus on me and muttered something in Spanish. I believe he called me an angel.
"You will not die today, Reyes," I said, pulling out my kit and injecting a vial into his remaining arm. "You will pay for your crimes, for that, you must survive this. While I hate you and everything you stand for, I sympathize with you. Because you will feel this."
Gabriel's eyes widened, and though his ability to talk was impaired, he was able to let out a blood curdling scream.
Gabriel Reyes suffered third-degree burns in 98% of his body. His right arm was completely destroyed, he suffered multi-organ failure, and the pillar that crushed him bisected him from the waist down. When he somehow crawled out of it, a slew of toxins rushed into his system that fortunately wasn't able to do much damage until I stopped his bleeding.
He was still alive.
It was only because of his superhuman physique he was able to stay alive. It took half an hour but I managed to repair the damage done to his lungs and heart. But he wouldn't survive the next five minutes if he didn't get into surgery.
It was my last resort.
The scientists called it Resurrection but it was hardly as simple as that. In theory, the technology would boost the body's natural ability to heal and hyper-augment every cell they have, even generating new cells. It was designed primarily to deal with cancerous tumors that produce despite genetic therapy and autoimmune diseases, but nothing to this magnitude.
The Super Soldier program Gabriel was part of augmented every part of his body. He was faster, stronger, and smarter than the the most physically adept human and he would continue to get faster, stronger and smarter over time. He even healed at an incredible rate. So, in theory, the Resurrection would merely enhance his already augmented cells. But would it work?
It was only in its prototype stage. I didn't have time to think about it. Emergency response would be here in ten-fifteen minutes, Gabriel won't last that long.
I channeled my suit's power into my hands which glowed with a golden light and hummed with energy. My caduceus' scanner indicated that his vitals were already beginning to improve being in proximity to my suit.
Here goes nothing.
I sent all of my energy towards Gabriel, engulfing him in a golden light.
/
"Then what happened?" Tracer asked, practically teetering at the edge of her seat.
Tracer and Angela had moved from the United Nations to a quaint little coffee shop down the street as she recounted her story. Angela refused to allow Tracer to drink coffee, however, the girl was hyper enough as is.
"His vitals stabilized enough to keep him alive as he was moved to the hospital," Angela answered. "They took him to an underground hospital where I continued treatment on him. He survived the night, however…"
"What?"
Angela looked away, as if embarrassed, no, she looked scared. "He's gone."
"What do you mean?"
"A day after he was admitted to the hospital, I came back to check on him, to ensure the local authorities would take him once he was stabilized. But the entire wing he was in was shut down, apparently he had escaped."
"How?!" Tracer slammed her fist against the table, ignoring the strange looks from everyone at the cafe. "You said he was missing three of his limbs, two of each he kinda needs to walk with."
Angela shrugged. "I don't know." She hated saying that. "As soon as he disappeared, Overwatch was swiftly disbanded, the Petras Act was put into place and everything fell into chaos."
Too many things didn't add up. How did Gabriel escape? Was he assisted by Talon or Blackwatch? Did it have anything to do with the Petras Act? Angela figured the United Nations had a hand in this, obviously, it's why Gabriel never came up in the interviews or the official report. They can't very well admit it was Gabriel without revealing Blackwatch.
"What about Jack?"
Due to the now sensitive nature of Overwatch, I was placed under surveillance. I could no longer operate in Overwatch anymore, obviously, but I had my old job in Klinik Hirslanden as Surgical Chief. It was by some miracle the hospital hired me back, but I suspect it was the Swiss government that pushed me to keep me in that place. What better way to keep an eye on me, after all.
I had left work around ten and headed home. As soon as I walked in, the indistinguishable scent of blood assailed me. Instinctively, I reached for my caduceus but grabbed nothing. I cursed as I remembered the Swiss government took my Valkyrie suit and caduceus away from me.
"At ease, doc," spoke the indistinguishable voice of Jack Morrison, except he sounded… different. His voice was gravely, as if he had spent the last few days smoking forty packs of cigarettes a day, but I didn't register that at the time. I was merely elated he had somehow survived the blast.
"Jack!" I gasped, heading towards the direction of his voice to find… someone else.
Recoiling, I composed myself as I thoroughly examined this man. It wasn't Jack, he didn't look like him but… he did at the same time. He wore Jack's uniform, though it was torn to shreds and splattered with dry and fresh blood. He even had his strong muscular build, except this man was hunched over, barely able to stand.
He looked like Jack Morrison ten years into the future. For half a second, I honestly thought this was some time-traveling Jack Morrison but reminded myself that such things were impossible. Save you, Tracer.
Jack's youthful face was etched in lines and scarred. A scar ran from his brow to his mouth and another curved around his chin, they were raw and still bleeding. His golden blond hair was ashy-gray, as if the color had been drained from it. Even his sky-blue eyes looked stormy-gray.
Jack looked as if he had aged ten years.
Granted, Jack was hardly a young man anymore, but his superhuman condition kept him young and rejuvenated. What had happened?
"Don't look at me like that, Angela," Jack said, a hint of a smirk developing on his face. "Making me feel old."
"What happened?" I stepped forward but was hesitant to touch him, as if I were afraid of making it worse somehow.
Jack shrugged but the gesture proved too much for him, he tipped over, threatening to fall. I caught him and bore his weight, it took all of my strength to lug him over to my chair. He collapsed into the seat, grateful for its comfort.
I didn't have my equipment but that hadn't stopped me before. I worked on his injuries and despite being mangled, Jack barely winced at my treatment.
"Woke up and I was like this," Jack explained. He looked at his hands as if he couldn't believe they were his. "I didn't heal from my injuries."
Jack placed a hand on his abdomen, winced, and when he showed it to me it was bloody. "Could barely make it out of the wreckage."
Too many questions swam in my head.
"How did you survive?" I asked.
Jack chuckled. "Dumb luck. The initial blast knocked me clear through the computer room straight into the bathrooms. Those toilets could withstand a nuclear missile."
"I don't understand how you ended up this way," I muttered, taking a look at his injuries. Jack was only half-correct. He healed faster than the average human but still much too slow for what he's used to. Otherwise, he would've died from the multitude of injuries he suffered.
"I was hoping you would, doc," Jack grunted as I applied antibiotics. "You worked on the super soldier program didn't you?"
"Project Perseus," I confirmed. Though I never met Jack or Gabriel in the program, I did have a hand in its foundation. "I can only theorize possible explanations."
Jack leaned back and gave the "go-on" gesture with his hand.
"The serum used to augment you is failing. However super your body may be, it is beginning to regress back to normal standards. It's like a rubber band being stretched to its limit, it may retain its form but there are bound to be loose parts."
"Any idea why?" Jack asked.
I shrugged. "The stress of continuous military operation? Perhaps the serum had a short shelf life. Or, the explosion."
"You saying the blew up the super part of me?"
"Not exactly. I postulated in the early stages of the program the near infinite number of variables the experiments may encounter. No one human is built the same, after all. The serum isn't a one-size fits all type of deal.
"There are a number of factors that can influence the outcome. Age, sex, body mass, neurological make-up, even personality."
"Are you suggesting bad people will reject this serum? Seems a bit far-fetched." Jack chuckled.
"Says the super soldier," I countered. "No, I'm saying… there is no universal standard for morality, right? It is a learned concept, shaped by society, economic status, even the weather can have an effect on personality. What if it is more intricate than we thought? The serum upgraded every aspect of a person's body. What if when applied to a short-tempered person, they become more unhinged. And if the serum is applied to a good person…"
"What, they become more good?"
"Or, the serum becomes activated when met with the same factors it was first introduced to. If a good man, with a good heart is introduced to the serum, perhaps that is required to allow it to work. So long as the man remains good, they will retain the rewards the serum provides."
Jack stayed quiet for a count of twenty.
"Something inside you broke," I guessed. "The psychological stress was too much for your body. Perhaps-"
"Maybe," Jack said, standing up. I stood as well, ready to catch him but he seemed steady on his feet. "But that doesn't matter, what matters now is the mission. Where's Gabriel?"
I wanted to argue that it did matter, but arguing would be pointless. "There is a facility under Geneva, secret, of course. They have detained Gabriel there but he escaped two days ago."
Jack growled. "Damn. I need to track him down then."
"You are hardly in any condition to do that," I argued. "Plus, for all we know he was whisked away by the United Nations, Blackwatch, whoever! There was no way he could move on his own."
"I've failed, Ange." Jack muttered, his expression solemn. "Overwatch was supposed to be different than these agencies, these organization. Ran by people with agendas. Not run by soldiers, but by people, good, honest people."
"It is still that," I insisted, stepping forward and placing a hand on Jack's shoulder. "Humanity is an ocean, a few drops of it may be dirty but that doesn't make the entire ocean dirty."
Jack looked anguished, as if he wanted so badly to believe me, to take my words into consideration but he couldn't.
"Overwatch is done," he said. "But that doesn't mean we are."
"What's the plan then?"
"Stay hidden. Stay underground."
"What? But-"
"The UN and the people of the world will want to see Overwatch crucified, especially their members. For now, you guys will have to play ball. Stay underground, hidden from the public eye. Until you are needed."
"What will you do? Take on Blackwatch yourself? Jack, you idiot, you can't do this by yourself!"
"Jack Morrison is dead." He paused, taking in the gravity of what he just said. "I can operate freely now, not as Jack Morrison, as someone else. As something else. And I've told you Ange, I'm not doing this by myself. I'll come back for you, I'll come back for all of you."
There wasn't anything I could say or do to stop Jack. He felt guilty, felt as if this whole thing was his fault. I could only help any way I could. "Take this." I handed him a golden vial, he stared at it quizzically.
"Biotic Restoration Emitter," I told him. "It's a more diluted form of your super serum. Theoretically, it should temporarily restore your cells, and stave your… symptoms. It should be applied once a month, but in an emergency can be considered first-aid, if you're creative."
"Thanks, Ange," Jack said, smiling sadly. "For everything."
"You should visit the team. I've no clue where Ana has run off, but the others are curious to your whereabouts."
Jack thought for a moment. "Lena, first. I recruited her after all."
"Sounds good."
We stood there for a few awkward moments before I gave in and hugged him tightly. "We lost you once before, never again, Jack. Come back to us, okay?"
Jack hugged me back. "Yes, ma'am."
/
"Last I heard, he was heading to London, but then you were called here," Angela finished.
Tracer looked sad but content that her Strike-Commander was at the very least alive. "So, we just hide then? Like we've done something wrong?"
Angela shrugged, irritated by current circumstances. "The world will see us as criminals," she surmised. "We cannot give them what they want, we can only provide we they need."
"And what's that?"
"Heroes, of course."