The Enclave Power Armor stepped towards Veronica as she watched with a hitch in her breathing, its metal boots stomping on the hard ground. The Ex-Scribe's eyes intently scanned each motor and rivet as it slowly inched closer with a cautious gait. Her free hand tightened into a fist.

The heavy armor suddenly lurched forward, and Veronica got to her feet. Not to avoid a collision, but to help stabilize the suit's stance and stop the wearer from planting their helmeted face onto the laboratory floor. Probably wasn't the wisest decision considering nothing was going to stop a ton of falling bipedal metal. Thankfully, the suit's occupant caught herself just fine, regaining her balance and standing fully upright again.

"You alright?" Veronica asked, holding one hand up to the suit while the other held a coffee mug.

"I'm fine," Brigitte responded, her voice reverbing through the helmet's speakers. "I think I'm getting the hang of his."

Veronica smiled, before relaxing and taking another sip from her mug. She wondered why it was suddenly half-empty before seeing the small puddle at her feet. "Woops."

A mechanical arm next to her waved her concern away. "Never mind that," Torbjörn assured, then gesturing to the Enclave PA. "This is one impressive piece of hardware. Tell me, how long is the power supply supposed to last?"

Veronica sat back down on the crate next to him.

"Well, again, it uses a fusion core which comes pretty much standard in all suits of power armor. Some suits do use it a bit more efficiently than others, but they're all pretty much expected to last a couple hundred years on a full charge."

She nonchalantly rattled off the information with expected proficiency. Not noticing the slight look of astonishment on Torbjorn's face as she took another sip of coffee.

Another voice joined their conversation.

"Impressive," Reinhardt remarked, stepping to Brigitte's side as he examined the armor. The hulk of a man almost standing eye-level to it without his Crusader suit. "But, if I'm to be honest my friend, I didn't expect this armor to be this…"

"You're not going to say 'small', are you?" Brigitte asked, taking the helmet off and swishing her hair to the side. That sight caught Veronica's gaze. "We've been over this. Everything is small to you."

Fortunately, no one noticed Veronica's stares as Nathan walked into the lab and caught their attention. Veronica hopped off the crate and walked towards her fellow Waster, picking up a spare mug from a nearby workbench.

"Mornin', sleepyhead!" She handed the cup to him. "Long night?"

"That's one way of putting it…" he replied, graciously taking the cup from her. "How's your hangover?"

"Better now that I have coffee that isn't older than my parents. Or… Just that I actually have coffee. Real coffee! Seriously, this stuff is good!"

"Yeah. I'm gonna miss this stuff."

Nathan was about to take a sip from his mug when he realized what he had just said. It was the certainty of his statement that gave him pause; the thought that there was a finality to it and not a delayed hope. His friend was a reminder of that, standing in front of him. But she was none the wiser, not noticing his lips hovering for a second-too-long over his coffee as she enjoyed a sip of hers.

"We're definitely bringing some back home with us when we do." She smirked, turning back around to the others in the lab.

"Yeah." He took a sip, gulping it down. "Where are the others, by the way?"

"Oh, Boone went to the mess hall to get some breakfast. And I think Parmley is still recovering from last night."

Nathan almost forgot about him.

"Right… Where're the dogs, then?"

"Oh, they're in that corner over there."

Veronica pointed to the other side of the lab, where Nathan saw the two dogs standing next to a large crate and acutely interested in something atop it. He watched the orange Lindholm cat bat at the two dogs with his paws while they tried to playfully nip at him. Cooper especially seemed enamored with the little orange creature, probably never seeing one until today. Rex probably has, but Nathan was relieved that he didn't look interested in doing anything more to the creature that was about the same size as the average mutant rat. The words rhymed, too.

"D'aww!" Veronica let out, unable to contain herself at the sight. "I was worried they wouldn't get along, y'know?"

Veronica turned and went over to them, leaving him to watch as she started petting the orange one. Practically scooping him up into his arms. The cat was mildly annoyed but permissive.

Now out of the Power Armor, Brigitte walked over to Nathan, also looking at Veronica.

"You got some cool friends," she complimented.

"Yeah." He concurred. "You could say that."

"Yeah, and it's nice having another engineer to discuss tech with. Even if all the tech they brought is completely alien to me and my dad. Or anyone I know here."

"Eh, with her you won't have any trouble understanding anything from the Wastes. One of the smartest people I know. Which is saying something."

"Really?"

Nathan nodded in response, his coffee mug hiding the pride that was welling up in him. Athena's voice over the lab intercom stopped his face from cracking.

"Nathan, Veronica, your presence is requested in the briefing room."

"Really? What for?" Veronica asked, cradling the cat in her arms. The dogs trailing behind her.

"Winston and Morrison will explain once you get there. Mr. Boone has also been summoned."

They looked at each other, both coming to a wordless agreement.

Veronica gently, and reluctantly, set the Lindholm cat down on the nearby table.

"Let's not keep them waiting, then," the Ex-Scribe said, sounding eager to hear what this is about.

"I'll show you the way," the Courier agreed. Before heading to the exit, Brigitte called out to Nathan.

"Hey! Before you go, Satya came by earlier and dropped something off…"

The Wasters turned to her and watched as she retrieved something from a nearby workbench. It was a small, circular device that was a sterile-white color. As Brigitte stepped over to Nathan, she gestured to his left-wrist to which he lifted up to her, somewhat hesitantly.

"She wanted you to have this."

Brigitte separated the white band into two parts, until she brought it to his wrist right above his Pip-Boy. The parts reconnected as if by their own with no seams visible on the ring.

"What is this?"

"Clench your fist, first."

He gave her a look before doing as she said, watching a disk of blue, translucent energy instantly appear above his wrist. The shield of energy covering the length of his forearm while being about a foot in width. The second he stopped clenching his fist, the shield disappeared.

"Huh, if only she stuck around. It'd be easier to thank her."

"I think making this for you is enough for her."


Didn't take long to get to the meeting room with Nathan's guidance. Upon entering the large room with an appropriately large roundtable, they saw Boone occupying one of the seats. Opposite him and standing were Winston and Morrison, the former without his signature jacket and mask. A few new bandages over his arms and torso. Probably Dr. Ziegler's work, Nathan thought.

The Old Soldier greeted them. "Brin. Santangelo." He nodded to them both. "Sleep well?"

"Can't complain. Unlike some others," Veronica wryly answered.

"Well, have a seat. We got something you'll be very interested in. All of you."

With their interests further piqued, the two sat at the table. Plenty of spots to choose from but they took the ones next to Boone. The Sharpshooter in a fresh Overwatch uniform and with an Overwatch branded coffee cup. Still wearing his 1st Recon beret. "Mornin'" was all he said before taking a hearty sip. Already the third wastelander to get hooked on the stuff.

The Wastelanders settled for a few moments longer before a tired, polite silence filled the room. Morrison took that as his cue.

"I'll keep this brief," the Old Soldier started, his stance easing as he stepped forward to press some controls that were on the table close to him.

A hologram projected from the center of the table, somewhat surprising both Boone and Veronica. Nathan immediately recognized the projection - their ticket home.

"We've got a lead on your device, Brin," Morrison explained. "And we might know how to find it."

"How to find it?" Brin picked up. "Not where?"

Winston took this as his turn to speak. "That's the tricky part," he began to explain. "After your daring bust of the Deadlock Gang – which, good work by the way! - we've received intel as a show of thanks from authorities in North America."

Winston also pressed a button on the table, turning the projection into that of the globe. Nathan was too eager to hear more about the Transportalponder to notice Veronica in-awe at what she was seeing. Even Boone was taken aback by the sight of the entire world, mostly its size.

"However," Winston explained. "The intel tells us of possible items Talon may possess, it doesn't tell us where they're going to. Their end-destination if you will. Thankfully, it tells us where they've passed through."

With one more click the globe zoomed-in on the European continent. The hologram highlighting two points on the landmass with two red dots - one marking Watchpoint: Gibraltar and another further in-land to the northeast of them. It was marked "Paris".

"France?" Nathan questioned.

"Eeyup," Morrison confirmed. "Intel was tracking a possible Talon shipment that originated from the Southwestern U.S. after an incident occurred at what used to be Watchpoint: Groomlake, in Nevada. Your friends might know more about that."

Nathan and Veronica exchanged looks. Boone sipped his coffee.

"Anyways, the intel tracked the shipment to Paris, where it was last reported. But the trail got cold quick."

"Where does that leave us?" Nathan asked.

"Simple. You're going to find out why."

'And there's the catch.' The Courier probably should've expected.

Nathan leaned back in his seat with a deep sigh. Getting close yet still so far. It took this long for him to get here but there was another step to climb among the countless others after. He was tired. It's already been so long but feels like it should've ended twice as long ago.

Nevertheless, Veronica spoke up.

"How will we do that?" the Ex-Scribe asked, looking at her friends as if expecting them to ask their own pertinent questions.

"Well, I figure we'd start with actually getting you guys there," Jack bluntly stated. "As I said, the intel trail got cold. You'll need to link up with some contacts we know in Paris and work our way up from there."

Before Veronica could press further, Nathan interrupted. "They just got here!"

All eyes went on him. Watching as he leaned forward and bowed his head into his hands.

"Are you sure it's wise to send 'em out into Paris on what is basically a hunch?" Nathan questioned.

Morrison paused, addressing Nathan with his maskless face. His lips thinned.

"No," he admitted. "But it also didn't seem wise to send you out there alone to find a piece of technology only you have practical experience with. Besides, I know your friends, by now, Brin. I've seen them in-action for myself. Amari has, too, and she can attest to their performance. Don't you?"

Nathan's expression softened.

"I figured you of all people would have a vested interest in this?" Winston blurted out, a little perplexed at the reluctance from a man like Nathan. "And we'll try to support on this mission as best we can. Already have some volunteers lined up."

Nathan looked up, still in thought over this mission, before he felt Veronica's hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, I know we're new here, but we've got this," the Ex-Scribe declared, her enthusiasm then bolstered by her smarminess. "Especially with you here now… Right?"

There was no point in trying to lie to her confidence. They got into this world, and they had to get out. It was as simple as that. It just needed one more step.

"Right."


The gang only had a day before their deployment to France. Despite their newcoming, they were quick and willing to prepare for the mission, especially as success meant going home. Even then, Overwatch was as quick and as eager to prepare and advise them on what lay ahead. The Wastelanders, accustomed to being given tasks with barebones information, were somewhat puzzled at Overwatch's persistent effort of giving them as much detail as possible in their limited timeframe. Not just for what they need to accomplish, but simply for what they might encounter. The seasoned Wasters they were, they politely nodded and paid attention as best they could. Thinking that would be sufficient for them.

Then they landed in Paris.

Veronica had no words to describe the awe she felt standing on a street corner in Paris. Overwatch snuck them there at night to avoid detection as best they could, but once they got out onto the streets it was brimming with life. More life in a square mile than she had ever seen in traveling across the wastes with the Brotherhood or the Followers. More than she has ever seen traveling with even the Courier. Buildings taller and more numerous than anything in Vegas, with lights outshining the Strip making the seemingly endless expanse more stunning. She could barely contain the thoughts running through her head of what she may find out here. What she saw in Nevada was only a taste of what a pre-war society was like.

Amused by her bemusement, Nathan nudged Veronica's mind back onto the task at-hand. The lights of these cities didn't hold as much luster to him after all this time.

Nathan felt the leash he held tug and looked to where Cooper was facing. Seeing Boone leaning over a stone wall overlooking a river with Rex, who was on his hind legs also looking over the wall with a red beanie concealing his brain dome. Both enamored by the body of water. Nathan walked over to them, bringing Cooper and Veronica with him. He got alongside Rex and looked out over the river with them. Seeing the other half of Paris across the river, just as populated and just as expansive as it seemed from their side. The water itself also not spared as a dozen watercrafts in varying sizes traveled up its length in both directions. Nathan looked over at Boone, his expression ever-the-same but examining the river with precision.

"Not as big as the Colorado," Nathan observed.

"A lot more alive, though," Boone replied, not breaking eye contact with the water. Nathan nodded.

"C'mon," the Courier said, walking away from the river, Cooper's leash in his hand. "Let's get to the contact."

Veronica quickly followed, trying not to get lost in the crowded sidewalk. Boone took one more moment to appreciate the Seine before standing up from the stonewall. Rex's leash in one hand, and a guitar case in the other.

Paris did not let up as the Wastelanders wandered further into the city. Trekking large expanses across the remains of the Southwest only translated somewhat into navigating the windy streets of this city. Not even the overcrowded slums of Freeside or the bustling boulevard of The Strip could compare to the congestion they were subjected to. The dogs tugged on their leashes with some noticeable anxiety, not used to being harnessed. Veronica and Boone most likely would've gotten lost by their lonesome if it wasn't for their friend, who parted through the crowds with demonstrable experience. His size was a bit disadvantageous at avoiding the occasional bump with a stranger, followed by indignant, French muttering. Regardless, he pressed on with his friends behind him.

"A couple more blocks," Nathan said, glancing at his Pip-Boy.

One other precaution Overwatch made for them was their choice of apparel, explicitly chosen to blend in with the fashion of the city. This type of fashion sense was almost alien to them, and to the men seemed a bit excessive. Veronica, however, liked the coat she was issued with. It looked like something a Pre-War woman of business would wear if she was the head of a fashion corporation. Well, that's what she liked to imagine. The dogs, on the other hand, didn't really need any special precautions in this regard. Not even Rex as "mechanical pets" seemed to be all the rage nowadays. They advised that having his brain dome exposed would raise some unwanted attention, thus the red beanie. The idea of "pet fashion" was hard for them to wrap their heads around.

Despite those eccentricities, Veronica could barely stop herself from becoming awestruck at the city-life enveloping her. Having only just arrived a couple hours earlier, she felt as enchanted as she was claustrophobic among the crowds – and she mostly grew up in a bunker. The lights were probably the most alluring to her, as both a spectacle and as a feat of engineering. From streetlights to decorative storefronts in a foreign language, it was like being at The Strip if it was powered by a hundred Hoover Dams. The Ex-Scribe's mind rushed with the intricacies and complexity of such a system only scarcely preserved back in their world, that she automatically assumed that the flashing blue lights around the corner were a part of Paris' décor. She was proven wrong when they turned the corner.

A dozen or so heavily-armored men with matching uniforms formed a perimeter around an even more heavily-armored van that was the source of the flashing blue lights. The men were all armed with what she assumed were assault rifles, all of them vigilantly standing watch with their eyes towards the surrounding spectators. Behind them were more uniformed men who were patting down several people that were stood up against a wall with their hands propped up on it. It took her several moments longer than she would've liked to recognize these uniformed men were the local law enforcement. At least, that's what she thinks the word "Gendarmerie" on the van meant.

But what stood out more than the well-equipped police officers were the people they were frisking. It was the style of their clothing that was the most apparent to her. There was no sense or uniformity to their clothing, other than that they had no uniformity. They were wearing what essentially amounted to a middle-finger to what she would consider decent fashion sense, not the type of style she was led to believe this city had. One of them had a jacket with what looked like a skull with a knife through it, except the skull looked like the head of an Omnic. Their hairstyles further reflect the notion, with varying colors and styles to keep that weren't practical.

They looked like Raiders, and she watched as one armored man carried away weapons that clearly weren't Gendarmerie standard-issue.

"Well… I'm not quite sure what I expected."

"We wouldn't be here, otherwise," Nathan reminded her, not as taken aback.

They walked further into the city in relative silence, the city lights feeling dimmer down the winding streets. Half-an-hour had passed as they one final corner. Nathan looked at his Pip-Boy. "Yep, this is the place."

A building with a giant sign saying "Cabaret Luna" greeted them before the bouncers – a human and an omnic - at its entrance did. As the Wasters approached, the omnic stepped forward and raised one hand to them.

"Désolé, les chiens ne sont pas admis," he said shaking his head, pointing to Rex and Cooper.

"Pardon?"

The omnic sighed and turned his head to his human co-worker before muttering, "Ricains". His co-worker chuckled. Nathan frowned.

"I'm sorry, monsieur, but we do not allow dogs in the establishment," the bouncer explained.

"Well, we're here to see someone on business, so I don't think that'll work for us."

"Uhh… Right. Who are you? Who do you have business with?"

Before Nathan could respond, someone already started defusing the conversation as he floated through the doorway.

"They have business with me," Zenyatta calmly said, already soothing the tension. "Hello, my friend! Please come in, we have much to discuss."

Veronica leaned towards Nathan and whispered, "Is this another one of your-?"

"Yep."

"Oh, ok."

The bouncer questioned the monk, "But, Brother Zenyatta, the dogs?"

"I'm sure they are well-behaved. Luna won't mind keeping them in her office for a while. Besides, brother, they are here on important business."

"I see…" the bouncer seemed to realize something, looking at the Wasters for a second before stepping back and gesturing to the entrance. "Please, come in. And enjoy the show."

If the outside was a test of the senses, pervasive with bright lights and clashing noise, the inside of this cabaret was the welcoming opposite. It was dim but warm, the lights providing a soft aura that radiated throughout the establishment in a purple shade. The lights complement the dark wood décor and golden accents. The lighting clearly wasn't the main attraction, however, as the group walked into the cabaret proper to immediately see what people came here to see: an Omnic performer on the stage with all lights posted on her, alone save for a microphone. She wore a white dress with golden trimmings and blue frills that stopped just above her knees. Her "hair" was wavy, curled locks in the same golden color as her dress's accents, except solid metal. The only soft things upon her head were three white feathers arranged by their size behind a golden, triangular protrusion from her hair with another one adjacent to it. That is when they realized that the singing they heard from the entrance wasn't a recording, but her actual "voice" with the natural omnic reverb. And unlike most of the other music Nathan has heard since coming into this world, he actually liked what he was hearing. It sounded like something that would play on his Pip-Boy back home, but in French. Just a shame that her singing ended only a moment later on a high note and a pause, followed by the other patrons immediately clapping and whistling. Both humans and omnics showering the singer with praise.

The omnic singer bowed her head, her hands crossed over her chest. "Merci, mes amis! Merci à vous tous!" She thanked, politely waiting for the applause to settle before speaking more. The Wasters imagined she was giving more compliments to the crowd, thanking them for visiting the cabaret, and to enjoy the rest of their evening like a lot of performers in The Tops would. But in French.

With another "Merci" and another short round of applause, the music finally died down and the cabaret filled with the noise of its patrons. The singer then walked down the steps off the stage and was approached by some adoring fans as she made her way to the back of the room. Laughing and thanking them, taking her time with each of them. Until she made her way to them.

"Ah, Zenyatta! So, these are your friends!" She exclaimed, her arms opening up to them.

"Indeed, they are," the monk replied, floating out of her way.

"Welcome, my friends! Bienvenue à Paris! Bienvenue dans mon cabaret!"

She stepped forward and Nathan immediately stuck out his hand to shake hers. She grabbed his hand, but he was stunned when she reached up and "kissed" his cheek and then the other in quick succession. Still stunned as he stepped aside and watched her repeat the greeting with the other two humans; Boone becoming stiff as a board as he let it happen and Veronica turning red as a Legionary when it was her turn. Even with the lack of lips it was quite a culture shock to them, and the Singer seemed to know it as she was giggling. After the shock wore off, Nathan finally noticed that the "triangles" in her hair were cat ears.

"And I see you brought some furry ones," she observed, leaning down to the dogs who seemed more puzzled than put off by her. "I am more of a cat person, but they are welcome, too. Especially the metallic one."

"Uh-huh… Umm, right," Veronica stammered trying to get her bearings. "Wait, you're our-?"

"Oui," the Singer answered the unfinished question. "And we have much to discuss. Please, follow me to my office… Oh! And call me Luna."

Without uttering another word, the group of Wasters plus one metal monk followed her into an adjacent room, up a set of stairs into the upper floor of the cabaret, then through a door. Turns out the word office code for Luna's flat, which the Singer welcomed them to. Her flat was very much an outgrowth of the cabaret with its architecture and décor. She even had several framed posters of other French performers – man and machine – posted about her living room with another gentle, purple glow shining upon the artwork. No posters of herself, curiously.

She graciously directed them to sit upon her lavish and most likely very expensive couch, while she took a seat adjacent to them on a similar-looking chair. Zenyatta floated.

"Cozy place," Veronica complimented, adjusting herself in the puffy seat cushion. "Doesn't it get loud up here, though?"

Luna shrugged. "To be honest, I spend most of my time downstairs. Onstage. Soothing weary or destitute hearts. Making sure the night goes easy for all of them, with song or drink, or both. But for other matters…"

The Singer sat still in her chair for a moment, before leaning forward. Her slender, machined body conveyed her urgency where her faceplate could not. With measured and efficient movements, she produced a photograph – a physical one – from a dress pocket and delicately placed it on the table for her guests to see. They leaned forward and saw four subjects in the photo: Her, another female omnic, a male omnic, and a human female. The four posing for a photo outside the cabaret entrance.

"These people are very important to me," Luna told them, then pausing. "No, they are important to a lot of people besides me. They are vital for what I do to help others. And they are why you are here."

Nathan had a feeling there was more to Luna than her performance let on. "You're not just a singer, are you?"

She let out a satisfied hum. "Monsieur, why else would a lonely singer in Paris require the help of daring heroes?" She eased her posture, leaned forward in her chair, propped her head upon her left hand, and crossed her legs, all while gazing at him. "But if I must satisfy your… Curiosity… I do involve myself in work that is 'underground', as you would call it. And maybe next time I could show you how I truly conduct myself behind closed doors, no?"

Nathan and Veronica exchanged looks. Boone tried to keep his face straight. Zenyatta and the dogs were just fine being there.

"But alas!" Luna let out a reverberated sigh before focusing herself, and her gawkers, back on the subject at hand. "My people need help, and you are my only hope in this city. Once you help me, I will help you. Maybe even reward you with a full performance."

Nathan looked to the others who snapped to attention. Before he even asked anything, they simply nodded without the need for further explanation. He turned back to Luna, then her photo.

"What do we need to do?"


Nathan examined the photo he held, studying the features of the three individuals Luna had tasked them to find. He put the photo into his coat. The Singer did mention how she would like to have it back along with her friends when they came back. He questioned why she would give it to him if there was a possibility of not getting it back. She called it a "good luck charm". That, or she wanted to make sure they didn't forget what her friends looked like. She was one of the harder women for him to read.

Even with her charisma and inner Paris' lights and noise, he was hardly put more at ease as his party got farther away from the city and trekked further into the outskirts.

Turns out all the glitz and glamor they were introduced to at the city center was only a fraction of the actual city. The one that stood before the Omnic Crisis. And they already felt like they were in the wrong world. Streets that were lively an hour before had turned desolate and dilapidated, the buildings looking abandoned for decades. Overgrown vegetation and the occasional stray animal were the only immediate signs of life in this part of the city. Even the roads became much more of what they were accustomed to, the only streetlights being the moon.

"I can see why a bunch of kidnappers would come all the way out here," Veronica let out, looking all around as she kept close to Nathan while he kept his eyes forward. "This feels creepy."

"Lot of high vantage points with good cover. Easy place for an ambush," Boone blurted out, Veronica promptly glaring at him.

Nathan huffed, eyes still forward as he was the lead, aside from the dogs who both scouted ahead with their superior senses.

Also with them was Zenyatta, who was also by Nathan's side and largely silent throughout the entire walk from Luna's cabaret.

"You sure you still wanna tag along, Zen?" Nathan asked, looking over his shoulder at the monk.

"Quite," Zenyatta replied. "Things have been pleasant so far."

Veronica shook her head. "Don't think I'd describe it like that."

"What would be your description?"

She looked at the Omnic and was met with his static faceplate. His gaze was a bit unnerving to her, watching as he hovered effortlessly off the ground with no visible propulsion and with an array of orbs orbiting his neck like a mini solar system. The mechanics of him, from a glance alone, were astonishing to her. So many questions and secrets about him and the greater world she just had to research and answer. However, as they walked further along the streets of a crumbling part of the city, she was hesitant about what answers she would get.

"Well, I never would have imagined that we're still in the same city as all those shiny lights and people earlier. What even happened here?"

"War. What else?" the Courier answered, his gaze still forward. "A big war. Not like the one we're thinking of, since this world wasn't turned into a giant wasteland." He looked around at the broken streets and crumbling buildings with their shattered windows. "Just some of it."

"What kind of war, though?"

Zenyatta interjected. "One involving my kind." His head bowed slightly. "I understand you have not been here long and would not grasp the significance of such a shameful period of my kind's history. But from my understanding of your world, you could understand the repercussions such a time would seed, even decades after."

"So, that explains all your people I've seen since coming here," Veronica said, piecing together history in her head. "First time I've met one was back in Nevada and that was quite a shock. I mean, I'm used to meeting all sorts of people but a humanoid that was entirely metal was new to me. I know some people who would literally kill for the opportunity to inspect one of you guys. Er, no offense."

"None taken," the Monk replied. "It's natural for humans to be curious, but weary, of things alien to them. That trait has its uses."

"One thing I don't get though is why this 'Overwatch' seems to be ok with sending us here mostly by our lonesome. We're pretty new and didn't make the best entrance, all things considered."

"You're referring to Overwatch's trust of you?"

"Yeah, I am. It kinda came easy. And now, we're literally on a mission for them. They didn't even argue with you when you asked for it to be just us on this mission. Granted, it's for something that'll help us get home sooner, hopefully. Still, why?"

Silence hung in the air for a moment, long enough for Nathan to think of a response formed by the longer than expected duration he spent with Overwatch and the trust that was built, as uneasy as it got. "It might not be you, then," the Courier responded. "It might be me."

Veronica looked at him for several moments before letting out a hum. As she recounted the conversation, she suddenly turned to Zenyatta. "Wait, you know we're from another world?!"

Zenyatta looked at her and nodded his head with an affirmative and emphatic "Mm-hmm."

"Yeah, he's perceptive like that," Nathan chuckled, but stopped when he heard laughter and saw the dogs ahead of them stiff as boards ahead of them.

He then heard more laughter and stopped in his tracks, his party mimicking him. The laughter echoed from further ahead past a street corner. Nathan looked back at the others, their expressions confirming that they heard it, too. When the laughter didn't die down, Nathan looked to the dogs and gave a small whistle. Rex and Cooper returned to them, who quickly sidestepped into an open doorway of an abandoned building. After a moment, Nathan peeked his head partly out of the doorway to keep an eye on the street for more movement. He stayed still with his eyes locked onto the corner of the street waiting for anyone to pass by. He only heard more noise that wasn't urban decay.

"Boone," the Courier said as he turned to him.

Responding with only a nod, the Sharpshooter swiftly set the guitar case onto the ground in front of them. He unlatched and lifted the cover open to reveal the Wasters' weapons and gear. The party then got their equipment ready, passing them to each other as needed without so much as a word. Zenyatta silently watched as they divvied up the guitar cases amongst themselves, their history with each other becoming clear in their unspoken efficiency. The gear itself also piqued Zen's interest. Overwatch did offer equipment, some they heartily accepted, but in terms of weapons Veronica and Boone's weapons came as they were. Mostly.

The Courier seated his riot helmet upon his head before retrieving a set of tiny earpieces from the case. His friends took one each and placed them inside their ears.

"How do I sound?" the Courier asked, using his helmet's built-in radio.

"Loud and clear," the Ex-Scribe responded, a little surprised at how crisp and clear he sounded through an earpiece no smaller than her thumb. "Damn, this would've been helpful a lot of times back in the Mojave."

"Let's make up for lost time, then."

He yanked the charging handle on All-American and turned back to the street to poke his helmeted head out. After a few moments, he looked back at them and gave them a nod. He left the doorway and began stalking across the street back to the noise, the two other Wasters and the dogs quickly following behind. Zenyatta, despite deeply examining the wasters, was caught off-guard by their swiftness, and hurried after them.

Nathan was first to reach the street corner and felt the party stack beside him just a moment later. Even though he felt them, he still turned his head to confirm that they really were behind him. Seeing Boone, Veronica, Rex, and Cooper right next to him. Traversing through more dark ruins with him. Backing him up in a way that he hasn't had in years. The Courier lingered in the feeling for a moment before looking around the street corner.

The view from the corner street wasn't as good as he'd like, but the sound of chatter was louder, and he could see the rays of a light source bouncing off the walls near them. It shuddered like fire but not quite. They had to get closer and get a better view. He scanned across the street and saw another open doorway to another apartment building. Directing the others with a hand gesture, they darted across the street and into the building. After climbing up a stairwell, they made their way into a flat with windows overlooking the point of interest.

They saw a group of men, dressed similarly to the ones they saw getting arrested earlier back in the city center. They were sitting on a menagerie of improvised furniture as they were huddled around a barrel. However, this barrel didn't have a fire in it and instead had some kind of hologram projector on it that displayed a video complete with sound. It looked and sounded like a French movie, the watchers chatting all the while as they drank. The group unable to understand anything they were saying.

The "sentries" were posted outside of what looked like an old warehouse, which is where Luna said her friends could be held up. It looked equally as rundown as the rest of the neighborhood, but they could see some lights shining through the windows it had. Light also seeping through the bottom of the large gate that the lookouts were supposed to be guarding. Other than that, it looked pretty sleepy.

"Okay," the Courier surmised, examining the targets. "Boone, take those guys out. We'll get down there and mop up anyone left."

Boone nodded and almost shouldered his rifle before Veronica spoke up.

"Wait, we don't even know where Luna's friends are."

"We have to get through them, somehow."

"Sure, but it's a bit too early to be going loud, no?

Before Nathan could reply, the metal gate at the warehouse suddenly rose open, and several more men walked out. One of the men in this group exchanged some more words with the guards, sounding frustrated, possibly at their lack of vigilance. Then, the Wasters heard another sound coming from where they did as three vehicles drove in from the street and made the moviegoers rise up from their seats. Nathan thought they were French police, but then the lead of the hoodlums went up to the driver seat of the lead car – a small limo. They exchanged a few words before waving them through the large warehouse entrance. They promptly went inside without further incident, the group of wannabe raiders went back inside while leaving their movie-watching guards outside with a little more beratement.

Things just got more interesting, and Nathan didn't like it.

"Who were those people in the cars?" Veronica asked. "Boone did you get a look at 'em through the windows?"

"Only the big, trailing ones," the Sharpshooter replied. "They weren't dressed like raiders."

The Courier sighed. "Okay change of plans: We're doing things quietly now. At least until we can find Luna's friends. No telling what's inside, but they were considerate enough to leave the door open. How do we get through them without making a peep, though?" He looked at the men who were glued to the holographic screen.

He felt Zenyatta float over to him. "Perhaps I can be of some assistance."


The Monk floated as he would any other night on a lovely stroll beneath a calm night sky. However, he floated out into the open without much apparent regard for his safety as he simply went up to the three guards. The lack of footsteps was advantageous as he got quite close to them before they realized someone joined their watch party.

Eventually, one of them men saw the monk silently floating next to them also enjoying the movie and shot up to his feet. The two others following suit with some French expletives.

"C'est quoi ce bordel?!" one yelled.

"Hello!" Zenyatta greeted with a stiff hand.

The French raiders exchanged nervous glances amongst each other. One of them mustered up some bravado to talk to the omnic.

"What are you doing here, bot?" he questioned in English, hissing that last word.

"Sightseeing," Zenyatta replied, not too perturbed. "Paris is quite lovely, wouldn't you agree?"

"I think you should leave."

"I will, but it's not up to me to decide when that time will come."

"I think the time should be right now!"

The man produced a heavy metal pipe that was dangling from his hip and began bouncing it on his other hand. Zenyatta just stared at him, his faceplate possibly reflecting what he felt. This irritated the man who then turned to his comrades, only to see one being grappled by a giant shadow and the other brought to the ground by shimmering air. Before he could react and call for help, he felt a metal hand grab his shoulder then spun him around to be promptly kicked in the face by a bare, metal foot. He fell to the ground with a thud.

After they were dealt with, Nathan approached Zenyatta.

"Surprised that worked," he said.

"We wouldn't know until we tried," Zenyatta replied.

Nathan looked back to see the shimmering air choking out her opponent. Once he was down for the count, Veronica let go and deactivated the Stealth-Boy.

"I didn't need to use this, you know?" she said, frowning at Nathan.

Nathan smirked under his helmet. "And yet, you still did." He then addressed Zenyatta. "Hang back with Boone until we come out with Luna's friends."

Zenyatta nodded. "I will await your safe return."

As the monk left for the sniper nest, Veronica and Nathan gathered the three unconscious men and put them back in their chairs. Nothing too suspicious about slackers sleeping on the job. Nathan whistled and Rex came bounding out of the dark and at their feet. With half a party, they went through the open warehouse gate.

The Wasters thought it was a warehouse from its exterior but being inside made them cast doubts. The interior was mind-bogglingly massive, with endless rows and rows of storage shelves and machinery dotted with some upturned crates. Not all of the "warehouse" was properly lit, so they couldn't even see to the other end of the building. The ceiling was lit sporadically, as well, with periodic voids hanging above them. Faded markings lined the ground and some old signs were posted along the walls and shelves, but between the unfamiliar symbology and the foreign language, traversing this facility wasn't going to be simple for their objective.

"What were they doing here?" Veronica questioned, gawking at the scale that didn't translate outside.

"Before or after this place got squatters?" Nathan asked his own question despite also in awe at the size as he examined the nearest lit wall next to them, with what looked like a giant and faded remnant of a company logo: an "a" with a curving line under it.

"It doesn't matter, now. We need to find those hostages. We'll split up and try to find them separately. Take Rex with you, too."

"Are you sure?" Veronica said, her voice hinting of some concern. "Are you gonna be ok by yourself?"

The Courier addressed her with those red eyes. "What?"

"I just wanna be positive that you're going to be alright without me or anyone else."

"Don't worry about it. We have something else to deal with."

"I know, it's just… it's been a long time since I've tagged with you on something like this and-"

"Veronica!" the Courier snapped in a hushed tone. "Now's not the time. Don't worry about me, let's worry about getting this done."

Veronica was caught off guard by the sudden outburst, with even Rex rearing back a little. The sight of him – in his tall stature, dark coat, and glowing red eyes - gave her further pause to continue the subject.

"Okay," she simply replied.

Nathan instantly felt regret wash over him. But as he said, now wasn't the time.

"Okay." He tapped the side of his helmet. "Keep in touch. Let me know if something comes up."

He left without another word, disappearing into a dark aisle into the facility. Veronica stood there for a few moments with Rex, before snapping into focus and going down her own aisle.

Obviously built with efficiency and uniformity in its design, the warehouse wasn't a straightforward ruin to explore. Nathan had to switch aisles a couple times to avoid traversing mounds of toppled crates or scaffolding, and there was the odd, meandering French gang member patrolling this building, or probably finding somewhere to piss. He initially thought this was a hideout, but the more Nathan skulked through the aisles the more evident it wasn't. Too sparsely populated, not enough signs of people settling in. This place was a properly abandoned heap before they came here, but now it isn't. The Courier wondered why.

"Veronica," Nathan tapped into his helmet. "See anything on your end?"

"No," she curtly answered. "Just some dust."

Nathan noticed her tone, restrained as it was, but did not press further. He responded with a "Copy" and kept exploring his side. One question still unanswered was the whereabouts of the vans and their occupants, having not spotted either of them in this gigantic facility, yet.

Veronica went along a similar pace to Nathan's, Rex keeping up with her. Her side of the warehouse also wasn't much to look at. Just signs of abandonment and decay. She had to remind herself that they weren't back home, which was easy as she now started thinking of Nathan's outburst, instead. She tried to understand why he did that and almost considered radioing him to get an explanation. Almost.

She moved in silence through the large complex for a few more minutes, not seeing any signs of life until bounding over a large pile of crates and seeing some light at the end of her aisle. And hearing what sounded like talking. Still some distance away – a couple hundred meters from where she was – but she started going slower as she got close to the source. Keeping a hand on Rex who was also focused on what she was looking at.

Veronica held a finger to her ear. "Nathan, I think I've got something."

Nathan, on the other side of the complex, stopped momentarily. "What?"

"Some kind of light at the end of the aisle of where I am. Far-left side."

Nathan looked to his left and saw more collapsed shelving and crates blocking his immediate way. He looked around and saw a stairwell to his right that ran alongside of a section of wall on his side. It led upwards to a series of catwalks hanging from the tall ceiling.

"I see some catwalks above me," he called out, climbing the stairwell. "I'll head over to your side to watch over you."

"Copy that." Veronica stood there for a moment, then taking a deep breath before continuing down the aisle with Rex.

There wasn't much blocking her movement down this final stretch, and before she knew it, she was within earshot of the noise and the lights. It was the vans and their occupants, Veronica recognizing some of the men as the same type of soldiers they fought back in Nevada in that underground facility, who she has since learned are with another organization called "Talon". They were also accompanied by some of those French-raiders. However, one man stood out amongst them – or more accurately – one omnic.

From where she was she couldn't get a good look at what was happening, but Veronica was wary about getting closer to the meeting. Her luck turned when she noticed a door on her left with a connecting hallway going further down the aisle. She opened the door as delicately as she could and let Rex go in first. It was dim inside, but she could make out the faint layout of some kind of office space with desks, chairs, and what she assumed were this world's equivalent of terminals. She skulked down the hallway with windows, getting close enough to the group of people while keeping herself covered. She hugged a wall and slowly got closer, careful to avoid light shining through the window. She looked at Rex and held a finger up to her mouth. The robodog obeyed.

The Ex-Scribe peeked from her cover and got a better glimpse of the meeting and the omnic in charge. He was sharply-dressed, in an all-black suit except for a red tie and a red handkerchief. His silver-faceplate was adorned with matching red lights, including his eyes. His "hair" was slicked back and polished. And he wore some kind of gold ornament on his left lapel. He looked like bad business.

"Nathan," Veronica whispered into her comms.

Nathan had just reached her side of the warehouse when he heard her. "What's up?" he asked while watching his footing on the aging catwalk.

"I've gotten close and I'm watching them right now. There's some of those Talon jerks here, and someone with them. Some… Omnic in a suit. You see them, yet?"

Nathan had just crossed into an adjacent catwalk lane which gave him an overlook over this meeting. He summoned his Mauser from his magnetic sling and shouldered, bringing the enhanced scope up to his eye. "Yeah, I see 'em." He scanned the entire scene, counting at least two-dozen people – half-Talon, half-gang members. His crosshairs then stopped on the suited omnic, who was speaking to one of the raiders. "What are they talking about?"

"I don't know, they're speaking French."

"Right. What about the hostages? Have you seen them?"

Veronica peered out of the window and scanned the meeting. That was when she saw a couple of raiders show up from behind a stacked shelf and bring the three hostages they were looking for, in chains and at gunpoint. "Nathan! They're here!" she almost exclaimed aloud.

It took a few seconds for them to appear in Nathan's scope view. "I see 'em. Shit, they're surrounded."

From different angles, they watched with worry as the hostages were brought to the omnic in a black suit before getting forced to their knees. Veronica's fist tightened and Nathan's finger entered the trigger guard.

"Ah, mes amis!" the omnic said, acting as if this was a pleasant surprise.

He walked over to the female human, who was gagged, and held her chin for a second before she instantly jerked her head away. The male omnic instantly yelled at him in English. "Don't touch her!"

The black suit omnic looked at him. "If you wish. I am not interested in dealing with broken goods," he also responded in English, walking over to him, and flicking a piece of dust off the male omnic's jacket. "I leave that to my colleagues."

With a satisfied look in his posture, he addressed the raiders and exchanged more words with them until he gestured to one of the Talon soldiers. The soldier then went to one of the vans and opened up the back doors to reveal it was full of crates. He opened the doors to another van, revealing more crates. The raiders were elated at what they saw and practically ran over to the crates and what loot they held.

"Something tells me they shouldn't have those…" Veronica keenly observed. Nathan grunted in agreement, keeping his scope focused on the lead omnic.

As the raiders were unloading their news toys, the black suit gave his goons an order in English. "Put them in the front van and get me out of here. I want to be back in Monaco by morning."

"Ah, crap. Nathan, did you hear that?"

He gave another affirming grunt.

"What's the plan?"

"We make sure they don't leave."

"… If you say so."

Veronica pulled back on her Saturnite Fist, readying herself as she looked at Rex and back out the window. She watched as the well-dressed omnic walked to his limo, while still giving orders. "And once you're done here, let Akande know that he will have his-"

The omnic suddenly stopped in his tracks. Every Talon soldier there also stopped what they were doing and quickly turned to look up at the ceiling, some of them with a hand to their ears. Veronica's eyes widened.

Nathan saw the same thing. He watched as the business omnic made a mad dash for his limo and he heard him through Veronica's earpiece. "Someone is here! Protect me!"

He didn't question how and immediately lined up his scope on whoever seemed like a priority target. After lining up the reticle on a Talon soldier with a particularly large gun, he began to squeeze the trigger. The moonlight above him getting blotted out for a moment gave him pause. Then he heard Boone speak up for the first time on comms.

"Heads up! I just saw something flying through the air above the warehouse!"

The Courier had no time to think as he quickly spun around and activated Satya's personal shield to narrowly block a sniper round to his head, the force knocking him on his ass. He shook his head, gritting his teeth all the while. He looked up and could make out the upside-down form of Widowmaker dangling from a cable; Her red-eyed goggles visible in the moonlight.

"YOU!" the Courier screamed in a snarling rage.

Widowmaker replied with another sniper shot that he blocked with the energy-shield before he unholstered his sidearm and started rapidly firing at her. She retracted out of harm's way and disappeared into the dark ceiling. Nathan quickly picked up his Mauser and scanned the void above him. Even with his helmet's lowlight vision, he couldn't find her.

Meanwhile, Veronica watched with worry as a dozen or so goons scrambled. Talon soldiers keeping their eyes and rifle muzzles raised towards the ceiling, Raiders breaking out their new toys from the crates and running towards the noise. She assessed her situation and concluded it wasn't the most tenable with all the armed opposition just meters from her. She didn't have a set of Power Armor to tank all that firepower.

Veronica looked around the office, hoping to find something to help. Her eyes darting across the office space, they focused on a door at the far end of room with a symbol. She immediately recognized it as the warning sign for electricity. Veronica and Rex hurried to the door and once inside she was confronted with a fairly conventional-looking electrical room. Trying to ignore the noises outside, she quickly found what was the main switchboards for the entire facility and noticed a small note on it saying, "NE PAS TOUCHER!" She chuffed at the lack of security and quickly opened a panel to see an array of glowing green lights next to switches. She flipped the switches and watched as all the lights turned red. Outside of the electrical rooms, everyone else was startled as the few remaining lights blinked off and cast them into complete darkness.

"Hey, who turned out the lights?" Veronica heard one of the Talon soldiers exclaim outside the door.

She then heard more yelling but in French, followed by more frantic yelling.

"Allez! Allez! Allez!"

'Crap,' she thought as she stepped away from the electrical room door and looked back at the switchboard. Wondering what she could do to prevent re-activation, her eyes drifted to her right fist.

"If it works," she muttered to herself as she walked over to the electrical switchboard, closed its panel, and started punching the shit out of it. Feeling the force rock through her arm as she aimed for the locking mechanisms to jam them up. Before she could admire her handiwork, the door swung wide open with a raider yelling profanities. Rex responded by sonic barking at the raider and throwing him back through the doorway. The bark echoing throughout the hollow warehouse and making their presence known.

Nathan almost didn't recognize that bark belonging to Rex. He looked back to the meeting point and could see bright beams of light shining in differing directions. He then saw a series of bigger lights come to life with the sound of car engines. That snazzy omnic was about to leave, along with Luna's friends.

"Dammit…" the Courier growled, as he considered the next course of action. They had to stop them from leaving with the hostages, but ensure they came back home safely. And while the high ground was advantageous, the railings made poor cover from marauding Frenchmen below and a cold-hearted Frenchwoman waiting in ambush above him. And he couldn't haul his ass back to the stairwell he came from unless he wanted to be out in the open even longer. He didn't have great choices until he looked down to the ground and over the railing…

The Courier cursed as he hopped over the railing and fell about a dozen feet before crashing onto the top shelf of a crate rack that still stood tall above the floor. Trying his best to not slip off the edges. His body ached from the hard impact.

It took a moment for Nathan to get his bearings, at which he then reached out to Veronica.

"Veronica?" he called out, his eyes cautiously scanning the ceiling above him. "You okay?"

"Could be better," Veronica responded, peering out of the electrical room doorway before narrowly dodging a flashlight.

"Get out of here as soon as you can. I'll try to stop that caravan and get some of them off your back. And keep your head down!"

"Wait, but what about the hostages?"

"I said I'll take care of them. Just get your ass out of there!"

"But-"

"Now, dammit!"

Nathan released his finger from his helmet and scanned the warehouse's ground and sky. The rabble below him was getting louder and closer, but he could not find any signs of the blue one. Weary, he looked for any other way to move forward. He spotted that a shelf below his had a path reasonably clear of crates. With no time to further curse his predicament, he lowered himself towards the lower shelf, more than enough to support his weight. With newfound footing, he made his way towards the sound of the cars.

Veronica was still in the electrical room, watching from the doorway as the cars began to peel away from the meeting spot, but slowly and with a portion of the Talon troops walking alongside the vehicle like caravan guards. The lack of light and tight spaces didn't allow a quick getaway. Regardless, she heard more raiders break through the office door and head towards her. She heard Rex bark at her and looked to the left to see him at a door. She bounded over to him and opened the door but was dismayed to see it led upstairs into some unseen part of the warehouse. The echoing footsteps in the other room dismissed her dismay and she quickly shut the door behind her, punched the locking mechanism, and began running up the stairs with Rex.

Nathan skulked further along the shelf like a catwalk. As raiders ran by below him, he would simply stop moving and quietly let them pass. He didn't have time to deal with them and, conveniently, they never thought to look up. Despite his luck, the shelf he was sneaking along was running out of length and he was about to reach a divide between this set of racks and the next one. There was no way for him to reach the other side, so he'll have to get back on the ground. Still quite a drop from where he was standing, so he looked for a support close to him and went over to examine it. It was thick and looked sturdy enough to support his weight even if it wasn't the most balanced. Taking another scan of his surroundings, he holstered All-American on his back, gave the support beam an affirming shake, and began to slowly climb down its length.

It was at this moment that Veronica and Rex broke through another door, bringing her another level higher within this facility. Judging from all the pipes and wiring that flanked her on either side, she assessed she was in some kind of upper maintenance-wing. It was more cramped, allowing barely enough space for her and Rex to walk through. They only moved as quickly as they did with the growing noise of rabble gaining on them and about to come through the door at any second. This wing was pitch-black like the rest of the facility, but Veronica could feel heat and condensation radiating from pipes, and judging from the noise, were on the verge of rupturing from years of disrepair, which gave her an idea as they finally reached the other side of this long hallway. She opened the door but commanded Rex to stay and face where they came from. Together, they watched the end of the hallway and waited as the sounds of approaching raiders got louder and closer. She waited as she saw flickers of lights dance across the doorway. Hearing a half-dozen footsteps constantly clanging on the stairs. Then, once she saw the first cone of light flash directly into the doorway and cross the threshold, she gave Rex another command.

"Speak."

With one bark, Rex made the pipes all along the hallway burst and flood their contents everywhere. The French raiders on the other side were instantly drenched and showered in piping hot water, some getting scalded and others slipping and falling back down the stairs. Veronica didn't admire her quick thinking as she instantly shut the door, locked it with her fist again, and went up another stairwell unsure of where it led.

Hearing Rex's bark echo through the warehouse almost made Nathan pause on the support beam. He looked down and saw he was about halfway down, wondering why anybody needs crate racks taller than most buildings he's seen. Then, he heard some more footsteps below and looked down to see three raiders directly below him. He watched as their lights scanned the area around them as they peered cautiously from the aisle, unaware that he was right above them. Nathan slowly lowered one foot to step on something solid and inadvertently caused the metal rack to groan. They looked up and barely had time to react as the large Waster fell down on the on the middle, plunging his knife directly into his throat. He swiftly drew his sidearm and double tapped the raider to his right, then rose to arm-shield to block rifle shot from his left. The shocked raider didn't have time to react as Nathan batted his rifle away and brought his pistol muzzle to his face and fired. The Courier examined his handiwork for a moment before he scrambled to take cover behind another large crate.

He peered cautiously from his cover, his eyes mainly watching the dark sky. 'Where the hell is she?' he thought.

His eyes were then drawn to lights emanating from the across the divide, knowing they belonged to the Talon vehicles from their size and movement. Faintly seeing their silhouettes through the rows of shelves. Moving quite slowly to avoid fallen piles of crates and collapsed ceiling. He pulled out All-American, shouldered it, and exited cover to get close to the Talon caravan.

As he crossed into the open, he spotted some more raiders far across and instinctively raised the carbine to them. The next thing he saw was his crosshairs on a raider, then a blur as a rifle round struck him and threw his head back. He winced in pain as he was nearly thrown onto his ass again but quickly regained balance and stumbled back into cover behind the crate. Shaking the stars out of his vision, he looked down at his body and quickly patted at his upper chest and shoulders. He was shot but could not see any wound or bleeding, until he licked his lips and tasted blood under his helmet. His hand reached up to his helmet's mouthpiece and instantly felt deformed and mangled metal where a piece of his helmet was ripped off, leaving his mouth exposed and bloody. He wondered why it felt like he only had a split lip until he looked down at his carbine and saw that the scope was shot off and the top of the receiver had a bullet hole through it.

He had no time to curse as he holstered the now broken All-American. He looked over to the corpses he just made and reached for one of their guns. It was some kind of bullpup with a square carry handle enshrouding the charging handle, with a blue polymer body and some glowing blue lights. He scavenged a few extra mags for it and tried to put them somewhere. Just in time as he heard more movement and lights coming from his side of the racks. He bared bloody teeth as he yanked the bullpup's charging handle.

The door to the rooftop swung open as Veronica and Rex ran through it. She hurriedly closed the door and gave it her signature lock, jamming it shut. She didn't hear anyone chase after them since their stunt with the pipes, but she knew better than to assume. However, she and Rex were now high atop the large facility and exposed to the open, night sky. She was almost taken aback by how serene the night looked from here, even if this part of the city was cast into darkness. She turned to her right and spotted the skyline of the populated parts of Paris, seeing the bright rays shoot off into the sky with that giant, strange-looking tower visible from where she was.

Automatic rifle fire disrupted her astonishment and she turned to the source of the noise. She ran over to the noise and stopped over one of the many cave-ins where it was almost pitch black, but she could see the muzzle flash of one person against a dozen or so lights further down the aisles. He seemed to be keeping them off him, for now.

"Nathan?" she called out to him over comms, noting how the firing paused the moment she did, confirming it was him. "Nathan? Are you okay?"

"Veronica?" he responded among the gunfire looking around. "Where the hell are you?"

He waited for a response but got nothing. Then, she heard her speak, again, "Nathan? Are you okay? Are you there? Why can't I hear you?!"

He grabbed at his mouthpiece and cursed himself under his breath. The helmet's radio could still receive but not broadcast. He settled on communication the ol' fashion way.

"VERONICA!" the Courier yelled, his voice bellowing through the warehouse. "I TOLD YOU TO GET OUT NOW! IT'S NOT SAFE HERE, DAMMIT!"

Even as gunfire raged on, Veronica was still taken aback by the commands that Nathan had given. 'What has gotten into him?!' she thought to herself, watching as the lights got closer to her friend. She considered calling out to him more, but that seemed like a futile effort. Instead opting to scan the rest of the roof and look for any way to get down below him. She spotted another possible entrance to the lower levels across from her on the other side of the roof. "C'mon," she said to Rex before they both rushed to it.

A raider fell with a scream from the last burst of Nathan's rifle before he had to swap to another mag. Almost fumbling the reload from unfamiliarity, he fervently charged the weapon to then shoot at another raider that was sneaking up on his other side. He was already halfway through the ammo he could scavenge, but there was enough of a lull in the fighting on his side that he tried to break from cover and rush across the divide. A sniper shot impacting his cover mere inches from his face dashed any hope of that and made him curse more under his breath.

"At least have the courtesy to kill me!" He called out, some blood spraying from his mouth. Widowmaker responded with dead air. He knew she was somewhere across from him, posted higher on one of the racks. Probably not even a couple dozen meters apart from him. Couldn't get a shot at her without exposing himself, but there wasn't much else in the way of forward movement. And he doubted she was going to fall for the shield trick twice. But as he tried to consider what options he even had, he heard Veronica call out over the radio, again.

"Nathan. Me and Rex are coming back down to help. I think we're in some kind of overseer office, so we'll try to get a vantage point- Wait-"

Veronica saw from the overseer office window some kind of dark, pale figure faintly illuminated by the moonlight standing amongst the racks. What stood out most in the dim light were glowing red eyes, not unlike Nathan's, but more of them. She could also see the glint of a long piece of metal held in front of this figure. She instantly went to the window and unlatched it, swinging it wide open.

Widowmaker turned to the noise and instantly saw two red figures in the office loft to her left. She swiftly spun and brought her riflescope to her eye, taking only a fraction of a second to bring the crosshairs on target. However, she wasn't quick enough when a concentrated wave of energy had washed over her and sent her tumbling over the racks. Veronica peered into the darkness to confirm if the sniper had been dealt with, and almost thought she was until Widowmaker rappelled back up to her nest and started blasting automatic fire towards her and Rex. The Ex-Scribe grabbed Rex and went into cover, rounds flying just above them. Calling out to her friend, "Ah! We're pinned down over here!" Nathan's eyes widened and his head peaked out from cover to see Widowmaker suppressing Veronica.

He growled and with one hand on his rifle, he pushed all his weight into the crate he took cover behind until it began to move. The blue sniper turned to the noise of scraping metal and could see Nathan's form moving across the divide but taking cover behind a crate as he did so. She fired several high-powered rounds at him which bounced off the thick metal crate, which Nathan returned in kind by blind-firing the bullpup at her. His fire wasn't accurate but was close enough that the assassin ducked as she heard more than a dozen rounds zip over her. Once his mag ran dry, she stood back up to fire more rounds but was instantly knocked off balance as the heavy crate collided with the rack she was on and began to tip over. She quickly rappelled again out of harm's way as the rack leaned over and struck another rack, which then struck another. And another. And so on until an entire section of racks collapsed in the middle of the warehouse, crashing to the ground, and throwing up debris. Once the metal had stopped creaking, Nathan stood up, unscathed, and noticed that he had incidentally trapped the Talon convoy under metal shelves and crates. The lead, black limo properly trapped. He heard more metal shifting and instantly raised his rifle to the source – the snazzy omnic, who had just pulled himself out of the wreckage. The omnic probably saw him in the dark as he froze up and stared at Nathan. The Courier, without thinking, instantly lined up his sights and squeezed the trigger only for it to click. He looked down at the bullpup and saw it was dry. He then looked up to see the omnic running away to the entrance of the warehouse. The Courier paid him no extra mind as he dropped the bullpup and pulled out his sidearm, heading towards the hostages.

Widowmaker, narrowly escaping a deadly fall, situated herself on the roof and over one of the many cave-ins. She didn't wait for the dust to settle as her goggles instantly clicked back into position over her eyes and immediately spotted the hulking form of Nathan. However, by the time she brought her rifle to bear, he had disappeared into a mess of twisted metal. She could still see him, just not get a shot at him. The Assassin turned her focus to the office space where Veronica and Rex were still holed up.

Veronica crouched low to the ground behind some metal filing cabinets. The Ex-Scribe knew they made poor cover but was better than anything else in this place. She looked back to where they came from and noted how it was a straight shot with some cover along the way. Somebody could probably make it if they were fast enough. She grabbed Rex's attention, the robodog looking up at her with perked ears.

"I want you to run to Nathan and help him, okay?" Veronica asked of the old police dog. "I'll deal with the sniper."

"Bark!" Rex responded, not wasting a second as he instantly dashed to the door to get downstairs.

When he was gone, Veronica produced the stealth-boy given to her earlier and strapped it to her arm. 'At least he was right on one thing…'

Meanwhile, Widowmaker scoffed at the sight of the retreating dog, not wanting to waste a bullet on an animal. She was more interested in the human crouching behind cover, waiting for her to move just enough to be another addition to her body count. Then, without warning, her prey disappeared from her infra-sight.

"Quoi?!" the Assassin exclaimed aloud, looking through her scope again and wondering how her target suddenly stopped emitting heat. But before she could investigate further, her associate contacted her on the Talon frequency.

"Lacroix, get to the entrance and protect me!"

She clicked her tongue at the idea of displacing but made no protest as she went to provide security for her colleague.

When Nathan got close to the Talon convoy, he saw the storage racks practically buried the first two vehicles in the Talon convoy but had left the van with hostages in it mostly unscathed, aside from the front being caved in. However, there were still some Talon soldiers that had survived, trying to get their bearings as the dust still settled around them. The Courier press-checked his sidearm and then pulled out his knife.

The hostages inside the van were all rattled, all of them bound while the sole human was gagged. They couldn't see much of anything from inside the van except for the windshield which had been crushed and spewed glass all over. There was only one other occupant in the van with them, who was knocked off his feet when they crashed. He got back on his feet, nestling his head, when they started hearing fighting just outside the van. At first they heard yelling, and then shooting, and then more yelling as whatever they were shooting at got closer. The lone Talon soldier in the van pulled out his sidearm and aimed at the side door as he listened to his colleagues get cut down. Hearing less shooting and fewer shouts the longer he held onto the door, his trigger finger on the verge of squeezing. Before he knew it, the fighting outside stopped, and he waited as an unnerving silence took over. He slowly inched toward the door, his free hand reaching for the door handle as he kept his gun pointed to the outside. Finally, he slid the car door open and jutted his muzzle out to see… Nothing, but his dead colleagues.

"Huh?"

He then heard the van's backdoors open and turned his head to receive one shot from the Courier's pistol and dropping to the floor. The hostages flinched at the gunshot and their heads turned to Nathan, seeing the hulking form of his silhouette, his glowing red eyes, and most unnerving of all, a bloody mouth. They cautiously watched him as he climbed onto the van and approached the Talon soldier, before turning to them. They instinctively tried to scooch away from him as he got closer until he pulled out Luna's photograph and showed it to them.

"What?" the male omnic went. "Where did you get tha-?"

"She sent me," Nathan explained, pointing to Luna on the photo. An uneasy relief washed over them.

The Waster looted a key off the Talon soldier and quickly unlocked all of their binds. Once they were all free and on their feet, Nathan took point and stepped off the van to find Rex patiently waiting for him.

"Rex?" he questioned. "Where's Veronica?"

"Arf!"

Nathan instantly brought his hand to his helmet before he remembered his inability to transmit. He sighed for a moment until he looked down and picked up a Talon carbine left for him by its owner.

"Rex, go lead!" He commanded the police dog. Nathan then addressed Luna's friends. "Stay close."

The warehouse had reverted to its dead and silent state, looking more like a decaying corpse. Nathan figured that any raiders that were dead were already far away, not wanting to deal with those who just wiped out a dozen or so of their friends. At least they were smart, unlike some of the ones back home. The Courier wouldn't be here to clear them out, again.

They didn't relish the silence for too long as Nathan saw Rex pointing with his snout to something ahead of them. As they got closer, he could hear what sounded like metal banging on metal. Eventually, as they walked through the rack aisle, they made it to the entrance and saw the source of the disturbance: the black-suited omnic banging on the gate doors that had closed when the power was shut. Nathan was watching Rex, out in the open, bark at the omnic who then turned around and noticed the tall man with red eyes. To the omnic's credit, he calmly tidied up his suit and adjusted his tie in an effort to make himself more presentable.

"Ah, Mr. Brin! Wasn't expecting to make your acquaintance tonight," the omnic calmly said, brushing off more dust from his suit. "I wish the circumstances weren't so-"

He stopped talking when Nathan raised his gun towards him. The man becoming rigid as he took one step forward. The omnic glanced at his man's feet, just a few inches away from the open.

"How do you know my name?" the Courier questioned, his sights trained on the Talon omnic.

"I apologize, it isn't in my interest to divulge that kind of information. At least, in this setting," the omnic responded nonchalantly.

Nathan growled. "Am I going to wring it out of you?"

The omnic grabbed his chin for a moment. "As cliched as that would be, yes. I'm afraid you'll have to."

Nathan took one more step and was about to walk out right into the open and into the crosshairs of Widowmaker who was watching the entire exchange. She was smirking as her target was about to unwittingly become her prey the instant she squeezed her rifle's trigger. About to end this nuisance of Talon after all the trouble this Nobody from Nowhere has caused for them. However, while her position was covered from the outside, a bit of her rifle's barrel was exposed through a broken windowpane to her right.

Veronica whispered in cover behind her. "Boone, now."

Widowmaker didn't even hear the shot as her sniper rifle suddenly flew out of her hands. She gasped and watched it clatter to the floor below her nest before turning around to get a glimpse of shimmering air until a metal fist connected with her head. The Sniper was down for the count as parts of her visor flew everywhere and fell to the floor with her. Landing on a pile of wooden crates on the ground floor.

"Oh…" the Well-Dressed Omnic simply let out as he watched what unfolded.

He then felt something metal wrap around his wrist and saw one of Luna's friends use their binds on their would-be captor, Nathan looming right behind him. The Talon omnic electronically sighed as both his hands were brought behind his back.

As they took care of him, Nathan turned to Veronica who was climbing down a ladder along where the sniper's nest was. Once she had her feet on the ground she turned to her fellow Waster with a smirk.

"Guess you were right about the stealth-boy," she admitted, then producing some kind of spider-like device with a purple vial. "She almost caught me by surprise with this, though. Wouldn't want to know what this purple stuff is."

Nathan just grunted in response, causing Veronica to look up and lose her smile at the fact that half of his faceplate was missing and that he had bloody teeth. "Nathan-!"

"Is she dead," the Courier cut her off, gesturing Veronica to look where Widowmaker fell.

The two approached the fallen sniper and saw her blue form laid out over the ground. Right next to her rifle, that now had a split barrel. She looked dead, her unnatural skin color and the blood on her forehead making her look like a fresh, pretty corpse. However, all hopes for that were dashed when she stirred and groaned.

"Of course…" the Courier moaned, dropping the Talon rifle to bring out his sidearm. Veronica's eyes widened as he brought it up to the unconscious woman.

"Woah! Hey!" she exclaimed, causing him to pause and look at her. "Where is this coming from?"

"What?" Nathan questioned.

"Nathan, she's already knocked out. She's not a threat. Since when did you become an executioner?"

The Courier holstered his sidearm before turning to face square towards Veronica. His form towering over her and making her blink.

"You have no idea what I've been through," he practically growled at her through his bloody teeth.

"No, I haven't…" she admitted, but stood firm at what she saw. "But, y-you're not acting like the person I knew before all of this. Nathan, I've never seen you this… Bloodthirsty, before."

Nathan Brin blinked at hearing the word she used. She couldn't see his gaze soften under his helmet, but he could see his mouth become slightly agape at the realization. She wanted to press further but-

"I guess you haven't," Nathan said, before gritting his bloody teeth. "There's a lot of you haven't seen. But we should get this done with. Let's not discuss it now, okay?"

She couldn't.

"… Okay."

Veronica watched as Nathan stepped over to Widowmaker, crouched down, and grabbed the device that was on her left arm. He stepped over to Veronica and handed it to her, pointing to the piece of rappel cable that extended from it. Nathan then produced his knife and handed it to her, blade towards him.

"Wrap her up in her own shit," he ordered. "Then we'll get out of here."

Once he grabbed her knife, he walked away to open the gate. She looked at the knife and watched the blood drip off.


Nathan closely examined the damage done to All-American before putting it back into the guitar case, locking it up with the rest of their gear. They didn't have much time to recuperate since Overwatch was inbound to exfil them soon, but they at least stopped by Luna's flat again to deliver her friends and her photo.

After he got up from the guitar case, he looked up to see his friends and Luna's friends mingling with each other and sharing a bottle of champagne as thanks for their rescue. "The real kind" Luna's compatriots called it, as if the Wasters knew any other kind.

His eyes were then drawn to Luna beside them, who was not participating in the drinking but instead hovering curiously over Widowmaker, who was still out cold and hogtied with her own rappel. Nathan stepped over to her.

"I wouldn't get so close, if I were you," he advised, his eyes switching between the Singer and the Sniper.

"I know, monsieur, but she looks so… Serene," Luna replied, her eyes meeting Nathan's. "One would not think she was a cold-blooded killer at first sight."

"Then they'd be dead."

Nathan immediately thought about the bluntness of that statement, but it was too late to retract it. But Luna's expression seemed to betray any sense of being off-put by him.

"If you say so. You would have more experience in that. I am just a singer, after all."

"Yeah… Anyways, we should get going now."

Luna sounded disappointed to hear that.

"But what about my offer?" she asked. "I have to thank you for getting my friends back."

"You gave us our intel," Nathan responded, taking out the datachip from his pocket, in the shape of a blue rose. "It's more than enough."

"I consider that more of a formality. But please, at least let me sing a performance in your honor."

The softness of her voice did grow on him, but he looked at the blue chip and the data it might've possessed and the reason for them being there. The true reason. He looked at the Singer and admired her blue eyes and blonde hair and white gown.

"Thank you, ma'am. Maybe next time."

It hurt him to say that.

Luna perked up like she was about to speak before she sulked and let out another disappointed sigh.

"Maybe next time," Luna repeated, hopefully.

Once they left with their prize and prisoners, Luna went back on-stage a few minutes after and just in time for her midnight performance. Once the initial applause settled, she used the interim before her first song to tell the audience that this number was dedicated to some new friends she made. Finally, the show began.


Author's Note:

Hi, PoeticPillock here! It's been awhile…

Just wanted to start off and apologize for the long wait. Long story short, a lot of things have happened in-between the last time this story got updated and now. A lot of stuff happened in my personal life – a lot of things changed – and I'm sure y'all can say the same thing. And there are a lot of things that I want to talk about, but that would make this AN longer that it already is. So, for brevity's sake*, I'm hitting the high notes:

FIRST, this story should've ended a long time ago. Since the last update, I've had a lot of time to think about what I've done as a storyteller and writer. I now firmly know that this story is way too long and that I have made numerous mistakes throughout the writing process that are the definite marks of an amateur, which is funny considering me creating this story was a response to what I felt was lacking on this website (oh how wrong was I…). This isn't to say that I'm objectively a better writer, now, but I'm a lot more knowledgeable about what works and what doesn't. This is why it's painful for me to go back to earlier chapters and read what I've wrote with my only takeaway being "why the fuck did I do that?" The answer being: 'cuz I didn't know any better, and I had an ego preventing me from doing so.

Which leads to my SECOND point, this story will end. More specifically, this chapter is the first in a series of Five Chapters – the last five chapters that I will make for this story. Rather than stringing myself (and more importantly, you!) along a plot that is literally being made up as it goes, I have outlined the last few chapters of this story and that's it. Although, since I'm basically kicking the plot into overdrive, expect these chapters to be lengthy as they will have a lot to cover. Also, I have written myself into so many holes that many of the ideas, side plots, conflicts, and whatever the fuck-else I so much as alluded to in the previous chapters will be left unresolved. And to be honest, that's a good thing because a lot of them were either dumb as fuck to begin with or were too ambitious for my mind to handle; Sometimes the best thing to do with an idea is to scrap it. It is saddening that things will be coming to an end… But am I fucking glad to be one step closer to ending this!

THIRD, yes, I am aware of what's been happening with Blizzard since the last update. I do not condone Blizzard's actions, nor is this reflected in my story. The biggest reason I bring this up is because of one character: Jesse McCree. For story and time constraint reasons, I will not be changing his name to his current canon name, Cole Cassidy, in the previous chapters. As for future chapters, I do plan on changing his name but in an organic way within the story. You'll just have to wait and see. Speaking of lore…

FOURTH, yes, I am also aware of a bunch of the lore that was added to Overwatch since the last chapter, and no, I'm not going to bother with it. I'll be honest, I've checked out from Overwatch for a good while now and have not been keeping up with the lore. Despite my attempts at trying to be "authentic" to the lore of Overwatch and have everything be presented as it would be by Blizzard, I've really just been playing fast and loose with the lore the entire time. It's come to a point where trying to adhere to the lore as tightly as I could is more of a hurdle than it really needed to be. Trying to mitigate every lore-inconsistency is just insanity by this point. Not to mention, the future chapters will be built on ideas that are "outdated" or "retconned" by current OW lore. I didn't throw out all my ideas, just most of them. Besides, Blizzard doesn't seem to care about their own lore considering they scrapped OW2's co-op mode at the drop of a hat (or seemed to, until their bosses told them they needed another yacht). If Blizzard doesn't give that much of a shit, why should I? So, yeah, Imma do my own thing from here on out.

FIFTH AND MOST IMPORTANT, this story is going to end but it'll be a long while before it does. As I've stated earlier, the newer chapters will take some time before they'll be finished. I already have them all planned out and outlined, but that doesn't make the process any quicker (in fact, they'll be slower now that I won't just be flinging a bunch of shit at the literary wall). So, when will the next chapters come out? When they do.

So, with that all said, thanks for reading!