Revisions made on the 10th of September 2017
Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean
2076
The dimly-lit cabin of the large, MV-261 Orca dropship hummed softly as it cruised over the ocean sky, only shaking lightly from the occasional turbulence. The cabin was spacious, had plenty of room for a booth and table, a holo-desk with a projection of the world, a kiosk filled with medical supplies and emergency kits, a dispensary with oxygen tanks, and even a small basketball court with a hoop on the wall. Though, that last feature was probably not a built-in one.
Overall, the ride of the cabin was a comfortable one but was largely silent on the way back home. Each of the occupants secluded themselves to different sections of the dropship, going about their own business. DVa had commandeered the basketball court as a makeshift garage, using the space to give her pink MEKA walker a check-up from the mission. McCree decided to retreat to the cockpit using one of the chairs as a resting place while he had his boots propped up against the flight console, his hat tipped forward to cover his eyes. Finally, Tracer had occupied the booth, reading over the documents she had extracted while the strange device was placed next to her lap. Making sure to keep it out of view.
The Pilot's eyes darted back and forth as she carefully read the documents, flipping through the pages and being methodical in her reading. She went over the Slipstream documents, experiment reports and observations, and even examined the documents unrelated to Slipstream and the like. She couldn't find anything. She couldn't find any reference or mention of a second teleportation matrix. Only mentions of the first "prototype" or the first "device". She was even able to find a timestamp of the creation of the first device, the one she flew with in the Slipstream...
The usually peppy and cheerful Brit was frustrated. There couldn't be any way that Overwatch was in possession of another device. They weren't exactly easy - or cheap - to manufacture. Even the Slipstream jet had to be custom-fitted to the device, costing Overwatch almost trillions of dollars of funding. The only other device she could think of that would've been close to being a duplicate would be the chronal accelerate strapped right to her chest, though it was still largely different. Exasperated, the spiky-haired woman groans and throws back her head onto the booth. The sound of approaching footsteps catches her attention.
Opening her eyes, she looks up to see the mech pilot standing at the other side of the table with a curious and slightly worried look on her face. She forces a smile and addresses her.
"Is there anything you need, Hana?" the Brit asks.
"No, I just wanted to see if things were okay," the Korean responds, shaking her head. "You just seem frustrated."
'Like you would not believe,' Tracer thought silently to herself.
"It's nothing, love. It's just…"
"Memories of the incident?"
Hana Song eyed the folder document marked "Slipstream". She wasn't originally a part of Overwatch, but she had general knowledge of the incident as it was all over the news the day it occurred. Stories and reports about Overwatch pilot Lena "Tracer" Oxton being presumed MIA in a freak accident, and then presumed dead just weeks later by officials. That was, of course, before there were the sightings of a ghost woman at various Overwatch locations and all over London. Hana did not know much other than those news reports and wasn't sure she wanted to pry further.
"Yeah…" Lena admitted, smile fading away and breaking eye contact for a moment before glancing up and putting on a reassuring smile. "But really. It's nothing to worry about, love. It's all in the past, now, isn't it?"
The gamer smiled back, somewhat comforted to see the one she looked up to as an idol when she was younger, back to a more familiar state. Even if it was just only for a moment. A sound from the ship's intercom got their attention.
"Landing at Watchpoint: Gibraltar."
"Welp," Oxton said, beaming as she assembled the documents. "Time to greet the welcoming party."
The drop ship decreases speed until it is just hovering meters above the landing pad. Landing gears protrude out from the corners of its body and it descends until they come in firm contact with the ground. With the engines decreasing their thrust, the cabin door opens and angles itself to the ground, serving as a ramp for Lena, Jesse, and Hana to descend. Ahead, they're greeted by the site of a blonde woman in a skinsuit white at her torso and dark-orange at her legs, a large, muscular giant of a white-bearded man with a brunette in a white tank top and red cargo pants at his side, and a large gorilla wearing square glasses in white space armor.
Lena is gleaming as she rapidly blinks up and hugs every one of them until she reappears in front of them with her hands at her waist. McCree and Hana accompany her at either side.
"It's very good to see that all of you are here and well," said the blonde woman.
"I told you we would be fine, Angela," Lena responded, nudging Hana with her elbow. "Definitely had a couple of close calls, so it's a good thing she was here to save the day!"
The large man crossed his arms across his chest and gave out a hearty laugh. "If it was as treacherous as you make it out to be, then I would love to hear about it!"
The woman next to him rolled her eyes. "I'm sure they're tired, Reinhardt. It would be best to give them some rest."
"Nonetheless, glad to have you all back, " said the gorilla facing the three heroes. "So, where are the documents?"
"Right here, boss," said McCree as he handed the bag of files to Winston, who grinned as he peered inside and saw the blue folders.
"Well, I've said it once and I'll say it again: Good job, everyone! Not only did you make sure Talon will never have the plans to these ever again, but you also ensured no one else will get ahold of these and abuse them for malicious actions."
'About that...' Tracer thought, thinking back to the device she found. She mulled over it for a few moments until shaking that thought off and going back to her peppy demeanor, giving Winston a mock salute.
"Now, if you'll excuse me," Winston said, beaming as he sauntered off. "I'll be in the lab, going over these with Athena. Rest easy, guys. You've earned it."
With that, the group went their separate ways on the base. McCree tags along with Reinhardt and the woman, probably to go off to drink and show off his newest tale. Song went back inside the drop ship to retrieve her walker. Angela went off towards the Medical Bay, practically her dorm by this point. And finally, Lena Oxton made her way to her private quarters.
It was decently sized, had a bed, bathroom, and a holodesk that served as the computer. It had one window that overlooked a dresser and gave Tracer a view of the ocean horizon in the night. Taking off her goggles, jacket, gauntlets, jumpsuit, and chronal accelerator, she goes into the bathroom and takes a shower to wash off the dirt and grime of the mission. The warm water flows over her, the sensation and heat comforting her and radiating waves of delight, almost making her forget her troubles of the day. However, her thoughts kept drifting back to that device. She tried shoving that thought aside, but like her demeanor, it refused to stay put and got into everything throughout her mind. Despite her own mental protests and McCree's advice earlier.
'No point dawdlin' in the past', she recalls.
Turning off the water and coming out of the shower, Lena dries herself off and goes back into her room. Putting on a white shirt with an Overwatch logo on the left breast and yellow gym shorts. She placed her chronal accelerator into the recharge station she had in her room, clicking it in with a satisfying chunk and listening to it hum as she did so. The Pilot falls onto her into bed and stares at the various posters plastered along the adjacent wall. One of them is an old Overwatch poster, proudly showing off an assemblage of Winston, Angela, Reinhardt, and her with an even larger figure of the long-gone commander of Overwatch, Jack Morrison, superimposed onto the background in front of the Overwatch flag. The other is an even older poster for the Royal Air Force, showing a Tornado GR1 against a dimming horizon with the words "Fly It" above the jet.
Looking at these posters brought some solace to the ace pilot. Memories and times of when she felt on top of the world, with the best organization in the world. It brought a smile to her lips… But her thoughts still drifted to-
"Auggghh," she groaned, grabbing at her face and digging them into her eyes. The spiky-haired brunette gets up from her bed and goes to the other side of her room towards her pack. She opens and digs her hands through it, before retrieving the device. She hid it from anyone else and neglected to even put it inside the bag when they got back to Gibraltar. The Fighter Pilot studied it, not able to keep her eyes off it. Her right hand slowly goes to rest on her chest, where her chronal accelerator would be, tenderly rubbing her chest and staring at the floor.
"Sod it," she said, before standing, retrieving her accelerator, and going outside of the door. Watching the hallway for any activity, she quickly made her way towards Winston's lab, clutching the device in her hand.
"Been a long time since I've last seen this," said Winston, sitting at his desk, and examining the blue folders.
The Gorilla-Scientist was inside his room/makeshift laboratory, where he spent most of his time either working on experiments or coordinating movement for the newly-reformed - and illegal - Overwatch. His command room was largely unkempt. Lab equipment and parts were scattered around the first floor, and the tables were filled with all sorts of junk. Hanging in the middle of the room from the ceiling was a giant tire swing, firmly anchored into the brown rock ceiling. On top, the second floor was where the server room and where Winston's desk was located. His "desk" being a high-tech computer, with a multitude of panels displaying holographic images protruding from its sides. It was also largely unkempt, as a few orange jar caps littered one side while the other had a bundle of bananas and stacks of books.
Sitting in his "chair", which was basically another large rubber tire, Winston was flipping through the documents as he studied their contents. He was quite familiar with the Slipstream program as he was one of the chief engineers on the project. He remembers the countless hours spent designing the prototype, the countless tests involving unmanned drones, the eventual test with a live human pilot, and the months spent tracking a ghost. He shook those thoughts away, as he reassured himself it was all over and Lena was safe thanks to his help. It didn't bring her down, so he saw no reason to linger in it further.
Setting aside the Slipstream folder, he drew his attention to the others. After reading them, the Overwatch Scientist wasn't quite sure of what to make of them. Firstly, he wasn't familiar with the details and plans of these documents at all. He owes this lack of knowledge to the fact that he mainly worked on the Slipstream, but even then, he would possess some general knowledge of the sister projects at the same base. It also didn't help that the language was rather vague and seemed to have much of the original contents either scribbled out of expunged. A few buzzwords did stand out to him, but they didn't help in discerning the rest of the documents.
"That's odd," he muttered to himself. "Athena, all records on Watchpoint: Groom Lake classified it strictly as an aviation base, yes?"
"Yes, Winston," responded a feminine voice emanating from the intercom. "All records have indicated to Watchpoint: Groom Lake serving primarily as a testing area for experimental Aeronautic designs of Overwatch as well as those of the US Military."
"Primarily?" Winston questioned.
"Any solid records and reports on Watchpoint: Groom Lake was often… Vague. Much of the secrecy is largely the result of US Government intervention… and the incident involving Ms. Oxton."
Winston's brow furrowed, unsure of what to make of the secrecy. Sure, everything was kept in hushed tones but he would have never expected Overwatch to be so obscure back in the day, especially to its own members. Transparency was one of Overwatch's most admired traits.
Well, for a time…
"You seem to have a visitor, Winston," Athena informed, breaking him out of his train of thought.
Curious, Winston got up from his tire and looked over the railing and towards the doorway. In the dim light, he could see a thin figure, wearing a white shirt, orange shorts, and a glowing chronal accelerator. Winston moved over to the other side of the deck before jumping onto the suspended tire and then climbed down until he lightly landed on the solid black floor. He walked up to the woman with a smile, which faded when he got a closer look at her. She seemed worried. Distraught. And judging from how her left arm was behind her back, she seemed to have something to show. This was not like her at all.
"Tracer, is there something wrong?" Winston asked, with a face of concern. Her face grows apprehensive.
"You remember how the Slipstreamfailed, right?" Tracer asked, despite already knowing the answer.
"Yes, of course! The device suffered a severe malfunction in-flight, and… Well. You know the rest."
"And there was only ever one device made, right?" she questioned further, making her friend raise an eyebrow and look at the arm behind her.
"Tracer…" Winston let out, certain she came here with something to show. "What else did you find at Groom Lake?"
Looking up at Winston with her hazel eyes, full of reluctance, she brought out her left arm from behind and stretched her palm towards Winston. Eyeing her hand, his eyes widen in shock. He slowly reaches out and takes the device into his hands. Gripping it somewhat tightly, he couldn't believe his eyes.
"W-Where did you find this?" the Scientist asked, not breaking eye contact with the device.
"It was in a safe, the same safe where I found all those documents," the Pilot explained, shaking her head. "I wasn't quite sure what to make of it, and I'm honestly just confused."
Suddenly, Winston jumps into the air and onto the tire, clambering up the rope before he leaped to the deck and made his way to his desk. Tracer follows, blinking up the wall and over the rail to stand with Winston at his side as he frantically types onto the keyboard. Multiple holograms and screens pop up, all of them relating to the Slipstream project.
"Athena, pull out all Overwatch records of Slipstream and Watchpoint: Groom Lake," Winston commanded.
Several more screens pop into existence, varying in length and size. Winston rapidly scours through them, his eyes darting back and forth, before further ordering, "Athena, find any references to a second teleportation matrix being built."
"Scanning," Athena complied.
The screens burst with movement, as they individually scroll and descend with rapid speed, some windows blinking out of existence and others phasing in. This goes one for a couple of grueling moments, Winston never taking his eyes from the screen and Tracer becoming slightly worried for her friend. Then, everything stops.
"Zero references found," came Athena on the intercom.
Seeing this, Winston lets out a deep breath before leaning back and putting his hands through the fur on his head out of exasperation. Tracer, seeing this, goes up to her friend and hugs his neck from behind in an attempt to comfort him.
"I don't know what to say Tracer…" Winston glumly stated. "I know for certain there was only ever one device… One built. I was there…"
He moves up, making the woman let go of him, as he reaches towards the desk and grabs the device into his hands. He gets up from his seat and walks down the stairs with his friend in tow. Reaching the ground floor, he goes up to one of his many workbenches and sets the device on top of it, before taking a seat on a stool. Tracer stands opposite of him, leaning on the table.
"So," says Winston, looking up to Tracer with an apprehensive look on his face. "What do you want to do with this?"
"What do you mean?" she asks, confused by what he meant by that.
"We could use it; Help carry out our operations faster and more effectively, especially with our limited resources and capabilities," Winston responded. "Or… We could destroy it. Ensure that it doesn't fall into the wrong hands."
"Destroy it?!" Tracer exclaimed, surprised at her friend's suggestion. "Is that really necessary?"
"It's not like there was a working model for this to fall back on, Lena," Winston responded, firmly inserting the use of Tracer's actual name.
"Well, this model could be different. This could help Overwatch, give us the ability to help the world!"
"We don't know if this will even work!"
"We won't until we try!" Lena countered, her voice rising because of irritation until she composed herself and took a lighter tone. "C'mon big guy… If you found a way to keep me from being a poltergeist, then this should be easy-peasy!"
Winston looked up at her, seeing the warm smile she was sporting. All the worry and anxiety that plagued him since landing his eyes on the device were starting to fade when presented with such a thing. He gave a faint smile at the sight and sighed.
"Well, 'Imagination is the essence of discovery', as I always say," Winston iterated, smirking. "Besides, with our state, we could use any resources we could get."
"Yay!" yelled the young woman, as she blinked up to Winston and gave him a bear hug, making a hearty laugh resonate from the scientist.
They shared their sweet moment together, taking in the genuine feeling of content for life. However, Winston's laugh slowly dies down as he opens his eyes and sees a faint blue glow. Lena notices and opens her eyes as well, looking down and gasping in surprise as she lets go of her furry friend. They both stare at the table and look down at the source, casting their eyes upon the device as it illuminated of its own volition. Tracer and Winston look at each other with worry, unsure how the device even activated. Winston quickly jumps up to the deck and returns with a device in his hand. Pressing on the top, he throws it down towards the table, soon encompassing the table and the area surrounding it in a barrier of blue energy.
"Do you think that will hold?" she asked, already tensing up as she watches.
"I don't know…" Winston responded, honestly. "We should at least get out of the room and tell the others. Athena! Get on comms and-"
The room was flooded with a blue, deafening light before he could finish.
