Revised on the 20th of September 2017
Mojave Wasteland, Nevada
2285
The contubernium of Legionaries had been traveling through the desert for the better part of the day, long enough for the Sun to finally settle into the West. The desert had grown cold and the wind blew all around them. It mattered none to them, however, as they have been suffered through worse and could see the fire of their camp off into the distance.
Finally setting foot into the outer edges of the camp, the Decanus suddenly held up a balled fist to signal his men to stop. They complied, and the Legionary carrying the dog set him down before he brought a hand to rest on his machete's handle. It was quiet, except for the desert wind howling in the distance and the faint crackling of the campfire that beckoned to them. They were no other Legionaries in sight but them; none huddled around the fire, none tending to the supply tent, and none resting in their sleeping bags.
Placing his hands on his machete and its sheath, the Decanus slowly walked into the boundaries of the camp. His head swiveled and scanned the area, trying to catch any sign of life. Alas, he found nothing, but a red patch in the sand. Bending down and bringing a finger to the patch, he examines his now stained finger and rubs sand and blood with his thumb. It hadn't dried up, yet. Rising, he stares off into the distance and tries to spot anyone observing them, but is hampered by the darkness surrounding them. Where were the bodies? Where were the other Legionaries? How did they not hear fighting earlier?
His thoughts are cut off as a .308 round penetrates his head at high-velocity, causing an exit wound the size of a grapefruit to explode at the back of his head. His body collapses to the ground, and his contubernium scrambles to cover. More rounds start to pepper the Legionaries, varying in size, power, and frequency. Some are cut down before they could even get to cover. Others fire haphazardly into the darkness in hopes of even hitting their attackers. It wasn't long until they were cut down, too, by shots that were seemingly silent. The camp was silent again, with only the crackling of the fire present.
Cooper was still tied up, and his eyes darted nervously from corner to corner as he laid there, whimpering, and helpless. He then heard footsteps, farther away from the camp, make their way to the grounds. They must've been a hundred yards away from the camp, as it took them awhile to even reach the outskirts. Multiple men and women dressed in western outfits with leather hide bandoliers and toting rifles had walked into the camp, their guns still at the ready to pick off any stragglers. One man was taking point, a type of Service Rifle with a larger receiver in his hands. As he got closer to the fire, it revealed him to have pale skin under his brown stetson, and a ginger beard upon his face. His eyes weren't seen, as they had a set of black goggles over them. With one final, confirming sweep of the area, he lowered the muzzle of his rifle down and flipped up the night-vision goggles from his brown eyes.
"Nice work, Rangers," he congratulated his squad. "Let's call this into Station Charlie, and take anything we could use. They sure as hell won't need it."
He brought up a handheld radio to speak into it, but his eyes fall onto a dark pile on the edge of the camp. As he slowly approached it, he realized it was a dog, all tied up.
'The hell?' he thought as he walked over to its other side, seeing hopeful eyes look up at him. He looked down at the canine's eyes before his own widened at the realization who this dog was.
"Cooper?" he exclaimed.
He bent down and produced a knife to cut the dog from his binds. As soon as Cooper was finally set free, he jumped up and started gratefully licking the man's face, much to his displeasure at the slobber.
"Yeah, it's good to see you, too, Coop," his rescuer said against the flurry of licks.
"Bark!" the dog replied, wagging his tail energetically.
"What are you even doing here? Where's the Courier?"
Cooper whimpered at the mention of his owner's calling, before barking up at him and proceeding to walk towards a direction. However, only after a few steps, Cooper started to stumble and was clearly too weak to carry on. The man walked over to him and comfortingly rubbed the top of his head, before pulling up a radio.
"Parmley, here," the Ranger spoke into the device. "My rangers just cleared out a Legion camp. Gonna make our way back to Charlie."
"Roger that," said a male voice on the other end. "Good job, Ranger."
"One thing, though," Parmley said.
"What is it?"
"I found the Nathan Brin's dog. Legion had him prisoner, somehow. Wondering if we could send out a search party, next thing in the morning?"
There was a moment of silence on the radio as if the comms officer was contemplating something. They were usually quick on their tongues as much as their heels, so the pause was longer than usual.
"Just get back here safe and sound, first," the officer said. "Then we'll see what we can do."
"Roger that."
Watchpoint: Gibraltar, Mediterranean, Europe
2076
All the accounted for agents of Overwatch, plus one mechanic were all assembled into Winston's room and were currently huddled around his computer desk. They were still donned in their typical gear and apparel from the battle earlier and were all ready to listen to what Winston had to say if it was something so urgent. Sounded like an emergency, if they were being completely honest.
"Alright, everyone," said the deep voice of their pseudo-commander. "You all fought well, today, and proved once again Overwatch still has a fighting chance."
"You can always count on us, Winston!" Lena exclaimed, exuberantly jumping into the air. Some of the others also sharing in the enthusiasm
"I know, and I always will," Winston responded smiling, though his face soon took a serious visage. "However, as I have stated before, Overwatch's capability and power are nowhere near what they once were. We still have to tread carefully, otherwise, we could lose everything at a moment's notice."
The atmosphere dulled as soon he told the truth. Times of a bygone era flashing in the minds of every one of the Overwatch personnel. Even Brigitte cast her eyes down at the sorrow thought of a time passed.
"Which is why I have gathered all of you here," Winston explained. "If Overwatch is to survive and continue fighting for a better future, we have to expand and reach out to the world and show them that we are here to do good. So, I have to be the bearer of bad news."
At that, the genetically-modified gorilla typed on a few keys on his keyboard and multiple images appeared before the group, projected as holograms to them. They were being shown news footage, articles, images, etc. What they showed was not pleasant. One news skit showed footage of military personnel fighting off armed men in black in some sort of desert complex, another displayed still images of a train wreck in a canyon area next to some diner, and one of an explosion at in Africa with elegant and futuristic architecture.
"It appears," the Scientist started. "That Talon's intrusion on Gibraltar was not an isolated event. At around the same time, reports from all around the world started to surface and Talon could be linked to almost all of them."
The group all looked up at the images and instantly knew that their work was going to cut out for them.
"This only provides further evidence of what we already know," Winston stated, his voice taking on a stern tone. "We have to act!"
"But Winston," Angela spoke up, with a bit of a solemn expression. "We are still quite small. How are we going to effectively respond to those in need?"
"Well, we may not be able to instantly react to call for help in our current as I mentioned, but I have some good news to bare. I was able to get in contact with other Overwatch agents around the world that are willing to answer the 'Recall' and organizations around the world have taken notice, some even asking for assistance. Thankfully, we're not entirely alone in the fight."
"What's our next course of action, then?" Torbjörn asked, the rest of the team holding their breath.
"As I said we must act," Winston reiterated. "We have to act and utilize the opportunities bestowed upon us. So, if any of you wish to volunteer for missions, I'll give the go ahead and send you to the front. It won't be easy, but it will continue the good fight."
His friends stood there taking in every word he uttered. His second call to action for Overwatch. Without a doubt, they will answer it. For what they believed in.
"Just point me in the right direction, and I will bring my shield!" Reinhardt proudly boasted, ready to answer.
"Hai," said the Japanese swordsman. "My blade will be at your command."
"Come on, big guy, what did I just say?" Lena exclaimed. "You can always count on us."
Winston could only help but smile at the dedication of his team. His friends.
"What about him?" McCree questioned, looking out a window, making the smile on Winston's face disappear as he went over the window to see what he was staring at outside.
Outside was Nathan, the tall man standing on the cliff edge of the Gibraltar rock and staring out towards the morning horizon of the Mediterranean Sea. He was smoking a cigarette, taking long drags from it before expelling big clouds of smoke from his lips. As the scarred man finished his current smoke, he flicked the butt towards the water. He stood there for a time, staring blankly off into the sea, before taking out another smoke from a pack in his back pocket, sticking it in his mouth and bringing a shiny lighter to ignite its tip. Winston furrowed his eyebrows at him.
"I'm not sure," the Gorilla answered. "The device he said that could teleport him disappeared, most likely taken by Talon earlier. Though, if Talon took from him the very thing he needed to get back home..."
McCree was eyeing his boss, not sure if he was going to like what he was about to say.
"There might be alternatives for him…"
This wasn't part of the deal," Nathan spat out, scowling at the ape in front of him. "I thought I was supposed to help you understand and develop the tech I had with me, not do your damn errands!"
Nathan and Winston were currently in his office, where everyone else was earlier. Though, the only other occupants currently were Athena (naturally) and Angela, who wished to stay as a mediator in case things went awry. Hopefully, they didn't.
"I know," Winston acknowledged. "However, it would not exactly be fair since you do not have the... 'Transportalponder' you needed to get back home. I can't properly help you if it's not here."
"Fair?" the angered Waster repeated, in almost-disbelief. "You think sending me across the world fighting your fight is fair?!"
"But you would be helping in the fight against Talon! The ones who stole your ticket back home from you! It's a way of getting payback and back home."
"Payback goes both ways. Give me a reason I should do any of this shit for you?"
The man planted his arms against the table, making it shake. Winston then look down at his arms, fully in display, immediately seeing they were covered in damage from what seemed like years of being in a wasteland. It wouldn't be wrong to say this man has clearly been through a lot, but that probably came with skills he possessed. Skills that would probably serve Overwatch well, do plenty of good. Nathan did talk about how he earned a reputation as a "Courier" of all things. And if there's one thing Courier's work for, it's reward.
"How about," Winston started. "I sweeten the deal?"
The Courier only cocked his head to the side as to what he meant.
"I've noticed how you had an interest in some of our technology. So, how about I also give you some of our advanced tech in return for your tech and cooperation with us on our missions. You can do as you please with what I give you and get back home when the time comes. How's that sound?"
Brin weighed the options in his mind. Getting back home was top priority but nabbing some of the technology he's seen here, some of which rivaling even Big Mountain, wasn't something to scoff at. Some of it he could use depending on the circumstance. Still, he didn't like the thought of dying in this "unknown" world.
"I got one condition then," Nathan began to lay out. "I no longer have to sit in a cell or deal with any of the bullshit from before, and as soon as I find my Transportalponder I'm done with your missions."
"Fair enough," the Gorilla-Scientist noted. "As long as you behave and I won't be forced to resort to those measures."
"I won't give you a reason to."
"Hmph, I guess we're in agreement, then. Just tell me when you're ready to take on an assignment. I already have one planned. I'll have Athena escort you to your new quarters so you can rest up."
And with that, the Courier left Winston's presence and went to gather his things, before finally leaving the room and to his living quarters. Angela went to Winston's side with a disapproving look.
"Are you sure that is a wise idea?" she questioned the ape, concerned at how the deal was altered. "Giving him technology that he could possibly abuse is somewhat dangerous, is it not? You've seen what he can be capable of."
"I know," Winston agreed as he rubbed his head, still feeling a bit sore from taking a game rifle stock to the face. "But I don't plan on giving him the blueprints of a bomb. Or anything as dangerous as that."
"It doesn't matter. If there's a will, there's a way. I just don't think we can trust him with what we have."
"Hmm, well how about a little test, first?"
Dr. Ziegler perked a brow, wondering where he was going to go with this.
"How about you go with him on the first mission I plan to send him on. You monitor his behavior, actions, whatever, and report back to me about it. If he's too... Unstable, then I can see about restricting what he can have access to. If he's not, well, I'll just have to honor the deal."
Her face scrunched up as she thought about what Winston offered. It could help watch over Nathan Brin when he's outside of the base. He may be a dangerous man, but she doubted she had as much bad blood between him and her than with Lena or Winston. She could hold her own.
"I'll do it, but first, where are you planning to send him exactly?"
"Egypt," Winston answered as he went onto his computer and brought up a couple of screens, one reporting about a Talon incursion somewhere in Cairo and another that seemed to be a chat log, between Winston and some other person.
"I got in contact with someone, someone who works with Helix Security International and might need assistance in some matters. We just need to send an envoy first."
Angela went up to the desk and looked at the chat log, noticing the name of the messenger. It was one she hasn't seen for a long time.
"Fareeha?"
Nathan sat quietly in the cabin of the dropship, his marksman carbine in his lap as he field stripped it and examined the parts, for the umpteenth time. He had cleaned it and oiled it, along with the other weapons in his arsenal the night before. The man wanted to make sure they were in tip-top condition for his first mission for Overwatch, mainly because he was rather unsure what to expect. Being prepared for every possible outcome is what kept him alive. He had to pack lighter, however, forgoing most of the contents of his backpack for what he deemed the essentials: Ammo, meds, and a couple of grenades. The smokes stayed, of course.
The gist of the mission was that something was going on in Egypt, and someone who apparently knew Overwatch needed their assistance. Meeting up with their contact, finding out what the problem was, and solving the said problem was basically the overall goal of this deployment. Didn't really sound too different to what the Courier has done in the past; Except he was in Egypt this time. And to only add-on to the uncertainty of that dilemma he had to tag along with two others who were sitting across from him: McCree, the cowboy in that ridiculous get-up and the stetson over his sleeping face, and Dr. Ziegler, wearing a white undershirt beneath a blue button-up dress shirt, greenish cargo pants with brown boots, and a shemagh scarf around her neck. Guess she didn't want to stand out in her "angel" outfit. It wasn't far, though, if that duffle bag she had was any indication.
"So," Nathan said, looking up from his carbine. "Who and where are we gonna meet?"
"An old friend of ours," the blonde sort-of answered. "As for the where she specified a cafe not too far from where she is stationed. At the 'Temple of Anubis'."
"Why is she stationed at a 'temple'?"
"It's not a literal temple. It's an installation housing a God AI. That's why she is stationed there."
"Artificial Intelligence? Huh..."
Angela noticed Nathan's eyes wander to the bottom of the ship as he uttered those words. It seemed as if with each passing day and with every word he said only added to the mystery of him and where he was from. Much of what she got from that interrogation room was rather barebones information. And she only knew his name, age, and occupation, nothing else about his background. What else was he hiding?
"Landing on the outskirts of Giza," announced Athena's voice. "Please contact Winston as soon as you meet up with Captain Amari. And do remember to be careful out there."
"Don't worry yourself too hard, Athena," McCree said, stirring from his sleep. "We know what we're doin'."
He then casts a glance towards the man in the trenchcoat under the brim of his hat.
"At least I hope so..."
After vacating their ship in the remote part of the Saharan Desert, it wasn't long until the three had found themselves in the hustle and bustle of Giza. They were currently walking in the middle of a very busy market - a bazaar - where all sorts of vendors were trying to peddle goods to passers-by. Dr. Ziegler was currently leading the group to where they needed to be, with Brin behind her and McCree tailing him. He didn't mind. Much.
Looking around and taking in what is technically his first exposure to an alien civilization, Nathan is somewhat astonished of how reminiscent this bazaar was to some trade hubs back in his California. Even the heat felt like home. But with much more activity and distractions to watch out for. He even had a bit of difficulty trying to weave through the crowds and groups gathered, made more difficult to his stature. If there was one thing that perplexed him, however, it was how they didn't seem to care that he had a big Brush Gun on his back or the revolver on McCree's hip. He'd imagine that in a world where civilization was seemed fine, seeing weapons on the streets would be somewhat alarming.
"What gives?" he mutters as he looks around, seeing people in rags and uniforms walk-by, paying them no mind.
"Pardon?" responds the woman in front of him.
"I'm walking around in armor with a big rifle on my back, and he has a revolver that ain't exactly concealed. And no one seems to care."
"Well, Egypt has become rather unstable as of late. So much so that the violence has, unfortunately, become something to be expected here. It's a long discussion and for another time. If anything, they probably think you two are my bodyguards."
'Makes sense,' the Wastelander thought as he continued following the woman and looked around some more. Then, he practically stopped in his footsteps when something caught his eye. On a big wall in front to his right seemed to be a set of posters, except they were holographic and had the words "WANTED" labeled onto all of them.
Stepping up to one of them, his helmeted eyes study it as it shows a colored electronic image of a white-haired man in a mask, with a single red line as the eye. He was identified as a "Soldier: 76" and was apparently charged with assault, theft, and vigilantism. And he didn't know the exchange rate of caps to these "E£", but he could guess from the number of zeros that it was a hefty bounty.
'Huh, so that's what they look like here.'
He then hears a child's voice behind him.
Turning around, he sees a young boy holding out an open palm to Angela, begging it seems. The doctor was speaking to the boy in Arabic, bending down to the kid's height. After exchanging a few words, she somberly shakes her head, Nathan putting two and two together and seeing she had nothing to spare for the boy. The boy slumps and acts disappointed, hurt even. He walks past her and Nathan was about to let him be on his way until he noticed his hand move, a quick movement, easily missed. The tall man's gloved hand shoots forward and grabs the boy's forearm in a crushing vise, startling him as he then tries to scramble away. The boy is yelling and batting at the man, causing a commotion.
"Brin!" the Doctor screams. "What are you doing?!"
The Courier's helmeted head looks back at the two, Ziegler with a shocked look and McCree steaming with anger, but held back by the blonde. He looks back at the boy and grunts at him, making him look directly at his red visors. Angela and Jesse held their breath as Nathan held out an open palm to the boy, and after a few moments of nothing happening, jutted the palm into the boy's face to reiterate. The kid looks away, shame and embarrassment forming on his face, but finally relents when he places a black, rectangular object into the gloved palm, fingers wrapping around it.
"Wha- ?" Angela exclaimed, who then pats at a pants pocket to find that it is empty. "M-my phone!"
The Courier lets go of the child, who rubs his forearm tenderly and looks back at the man in the duster in contempt.
"Beat it, kid," the man coldly commands, the boy not understanding the words but the tone. He runs away off into the distance, away from the three. Nathan looks to his right and sees the crowd casting a few glances, but goes back to their business as soon as his red eyes cross their gaze. He gives the phone back to its owner.
"I guess he thought a tourist would be an easy target," the perceptive Courier observed. "Let's go, I don't like these eyes on me."
Doing their best to not get sidetracked, again, the group kept on walking to their intended destination and had finally reached it. As Dr. Ziegler described, it was indeed a cafe, a modest one at that. With a few tables outside and inside, the group decided to escape the heat and go inside. Even here, the patrons didn't seem to care too much about the presence of the gunslinger and the courier. What they were there for was the patron sitting alone at a table, a brown-skinned woman wearing a white tank top under a black leather jacket and a pair of jeans with combat boots, and gold bands hanging from some of her black bangs. She had a cup of tea at her lips, savoring it with her eyes closed, one of them bearing some kind of tattoo. She looked up at the group with those eyes, and her face lit up at who she saw.
"Fareeha!" Angela exclaimed, as she went over and enveloped an old friend in a hug. "It's been too long!"
"Too long," the taller woman noted with a warm smile, before letting go. "I see you brought the cowboy with you."
"Hey, lil' sis," the man in the poncho greeted, the first time Nathan ever heard compassion from him since his arrival. "How are things?"
"Could be better," she admits as she wraps her arms around the man's torso, who returns the gesture. "Hopefully, with you two here things will finally star-"
Fareeha lets go of Jesse and steps back, her face losing its friendly demeanor as she stares at something behind the man she hugged. McCree steps to the side and looks at what she is looking at, and sees the taller stature of the metal helmet, duster, and riot gear that was their third guest. Her response was justified, and he thinks Nathan should've dressed more casual, in hindsight.
"Who are you?" Fareeha questioned, her eyes narrowing at the man.
"Fareeha..." her blonde friend cautiously said, approaching her, and putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "This is Nathan. He's here to help"
"He's not from Overwatch. I know practically everyone from Overwatch."
"He's... An 'ally'. So, please, don't worry about it."
The younger woman looked at Angela with a hesitant expression and hardened as she looked back at Nathan. She straightened and held out her right hand towards the man, gazing up at him expectantly.
"Fareeha Amari," she said as if she forgot he was in earshot of their entire exchange.
"…Nathan Brin," humoring her anyway, taking her hand and shaking it as she maintained a stern, neutral expression against his metal visor, noting the pressure she applied to his hand. "How 'bout we get to discussin' what we're all here for?"
"Right," Fareeha merely said.
They all took their seats at the table. Jesse and Angela across from each other, and Fareeha and Nathan across from each other, as well. The latter didn't bother taking off the mask.
"So," her Cowboy friend started, having the courtesy to take off his hat and put it on the table. "What's been happening in your neck of the woods?"
"Nothing good, for starters," Amari said. "Are you aware of the incident at the 'Temple of Anubis'?"
"The one where you shut that thing down?"
"No, not that. The more recent one, where Talon attacked us out of nowhere. We fended them off, but it was still unprecedented. They knew exactly where to hit, what weak points to focus on, and even the location of our patrols. Someone informed them of what to do."
"Who do you reckon?"
Before answering, Fareeha rose her head a little and looked around, scanning the room, and ducking down to her tea.
"There's this local crime lord, Hakim," she said in a hushed tone. "And we had reasons to believe he has connections to Talon. So, after they launched an assault on our outpost, we tried to send a detachment to seize to his compound and arrest him. However, someone got their first and there were dead bodies scattered all over the place. When we tried to seize his compound, a U.N. task force was sent in and told us they were taking control of the compound."
"The U.N?" the Doctor asked, surprised. "What are they doing here?"
"I don't know. That's why I'm looking to you guys for help. Something is in there, something apparently important enough for an international entity to pop out of nowhere and lay claim to it. I need you guys to get it."
"Now hold on," Jesse said, holding up his hand. "Why do you want this so much? Sounds like the U.N. is doing your job for you."
"I lost men taking back Anubis, McCree," Fareehah grimly remarked as she looked him dead in the eyes. "And men keeping it from Talon. I don't even think Hakim is in a cell but hiding. Whatever is in that compound could help me track down Hakim and bring him to justice, as well as some answers."
Justice; Nathan may have had a mask on but he was listening intently to everything they said. And the mention of her reaching out to Overwatch for sounded like revenge in the name justice piqued his interests.
"What makes you think they ain't doing that as we speak?" McCree asks.
"Because they refuse to cooperate with me or any of the higher-ups at Helix," Captain Amari responded. "Even when we have significant evidence to bring Hakim into custody. And as I said, their timing was impeccable."
The conversation fell back into silence as the group mulled over what they were told. If they were going to go through with what she had in mind, that meant directly clashing with the U.N., Overwatch's other nemesis on the global stage. Though they would be helping an old friend, the daughter to another dear, old friend, and hopefully root out another of Talon's lackeys.
"Alright," the cowboy spoke up. "What's the plan?"
"Not here, and not now," the captain said, shaking her head. "We'll discuss it somewhere more private. You have a place?"
"We came here in a dropship, on the outskirts of the city," the Doctor quietly stated. "It should serve as a small base of operations. Does that work?"
"It should. Also, there's something else I need to discuss. With just you two."
She addressed Nathan with a commanding gaze when she uttered those last four words. Not up to debate, Nathan huffs and gets up from his chair and goes outside back into the street. The three watch him leave, and Jesse and Angela look back at Fareeha, wondering what warranted such a response.
"Is there something wrong, Fareeha?" her blonde friend, concern ever present in both her face and voice.
Fareeha addressed Angela before reaching behind her and pulling out an envelope, one that was already opened.
"You speak and read Arabic, no?" the Egyptian asked, expectantly. "Please. Read it."
Heeding her, she carefully takes out the letter and unfolds it open, and soon her eyes scan over the foreign words. McCree looks over at her, curious as to what the contents of the letter were. It wasn't long for the Swiss woman's eyes to widen and her hands practically clutch tightly at the edges of the letter.
"F-fareeha," Angela says, her voice choking up. "Is-is this really..."
"I don't know," was all the daughter could mutter.
For around ten minutes, the scope of a sniper's rifle from on top a building was focused on the smoking form of a stranger in front of the cafe across. The same stranger who walked in the cafe with Jesse McCree and Angela Ziegler and the same cafe Fareeha Amari walked in. Whoever the man in the trench coat was, the suppressed muzzle of the rifle was trained on him and followed him when he moved to the left, right, and back again, never once deviating.
"Wonder what that thing on his arm is," said a gruff, old voice next to the hooded sniper. "It's bulky as hell."
"That's the least I'm worried about," said a feminine and withered voice from the sniper. "I've never seen him, before. Why is he with the 'new Overwatch'?"
"Don't know. Could be a merc that Winston hired. Though, I don't know what kind of merc would have an old AR carbine and a lever-action with him..."
"I doubt Winston would stoop that low."
A few seconds later, Jesse, Angela, and Fareeha exited the cafe and onto the street. The sniper kept her crosshairs on the taller man. Fareeha gave Jesse and Angela both hugs, and the stranger a mere nod. They went their separate ways, Fareeha going in one direction and the other three another.
"Let's go, Ana," the man in the mask and blue leather jacket said. "Let's see where they're hiding out."
"Right behind you, Jack," the sniper complied, before looking back at the form of Fareeha. "See you soon, ḥabībti."
