Revised on the 1st of October 2017
AN: Hey everyone, PoeticPillock. I just wanted to preface the chapter and say due to some lore issues I revised a section from the last chapter and I switched things up from what I had originally planned. The reason being is that even though this is a fanfiction, I try the best I can to be lore-friendly as possible, especially the Overwatch lore as much of it is rather vague and not clear-cut. This story may be based on a Courier from my modded playthrough, but as I have stated before in the first AN of this story, the mods are meant to be lore-friendly and not seem out of place in the universe. With that out of the way, I hope you enjoy this chapter!
Location Unknown
2076
In a dark, dim room in a facility hidden away from the world, a woman was typing feverishly at her "desk". Holograms of varying size and subject floated all around her, some disappearing and others reappearing at will. Even the "keyboard" she was typing on was a just a collection of purple octagonal shapes grouped and strung together, a pattern practically alien to anyone but very familiar to her. In front of her was a particularly large holovid, security footage from a compound somewhere in a desert. It showed soldiers with U.N. colors engaging in combat with Talon foot soldiers, but they were not the only combatants. A man in a red poncho, a woman in an angelic suit, and a soldier in blue power armor were also present in the fighting. The infamous "Soldier: 76" and the "Shrike" were seen at the end. She cared little about any of them. The hacker already had a good idea of their secrets.
It was the man with the red eyes and duster that had her interest.
She scoured through all the databases she could access, pulling up all references and details she could to link to this man, if he even was a man. Even after going through what seemed like a million holoscreens, there was nothing palpable she could unearth. The only information she could find pertaining to the weapons he used - long outdated models so out of place in the late-21st Century - and that thing on his wrist. The fact she could find nothing on it did not make her more frustrated, on the contrary, it made her more curious. Curious as to how this man has apparently stayed off the grid for so long, something so few people are able to achieve in this world. At least, successfully. Certain ideas started to develop in her mind, certain prospects that could prove to be beneficial. Just needed to set up a connection first.
She didn't realize how enamored she was with the images as she blankly stared at them until the door to her quarters opened and let in a ray of uninvited light.
"¡Maldita sea!" she angrily exclaimed in Spanish, blinded by the doorway. "Nunca tocas la puerta, ¡¿Reyes?!"
The cloak and bone mask didn't respond, simply staring at the tan-skinned woman in the purple tank top and jean shorts. One side of her head shaved and with glowing purple strips of light that rang along the side of her head like circuits. After a few moments of this impromptu staring contest, the woman just rolled her eyes and went back to her holoscreens. The back of her top revealing some of the skin on her upper back with metal objects glowing purple grafted to it. Almost looking like an external spinal cord.
"No importa..." she muttered, manipulating more octagons with her luminescent hands. "¿Qué tal?"
"What were you able to extract from the footage?" the man asked in English, walking up to her holographic workstation.
"Nothing we don't already know. Your 'old friends' are still doing their thing, and Overwatch is back to saving the world, as usual."
"What about the man?"
Her face scrunched up as the Reaper mentioned him, and annoyance graced it.
"Wasn't able to find anything about him," the Latina hacker explained, grabbing a holoscreen like a piece of paper with her luminescent gloves, glowing nails extended from the tips of her fingers. "He did match the description you gave; tall, somewhat heavy build, and he did have that blocky wrist thing you mentioned. But other than that... Nada."
"Are you certain?"
"Oh, por favor, I practically scanned through every government and security database, and I didn't even find any references or records relating to his armor or his gauntlet. It's either custom-made, or this guy found a way to be completely off the grid. Looks like you're not the only ghost around. Huh, viejo?"
The Wraith only grumbled at this news, his coat swishing as he turned around and made his way to the door.
"Notify me when you find anything useful, Sombra."
Watchpoint: Gibraltar, Mediterranean
2076
It had been a couple of days since the Courier's first mission with Overwatch and things have been relatively quiet on the base for the most part. There were some new faces around Gibraltar that the Wastelander couldn't be particularly bothered to get to know. He didn't entirely confine himself to his room, though.
Nathan was sort-of active, visiting Winton's lab to borrow tools, drop tools off, or to give him a piece of tech from his world. Really, it was a schedule he put himself on and he tolerated it. It wasn't terribly exciting, and that was both good and bad. Often, however, he found himself staring outside the window of his quarters and towards the Mediterranean Sea. A clear, blue ocean with an equally so sky above it, but peppered with some blotches of white and a bright, but merciful Sun hovering over it. The image made Nathan feel kind of complacent. He didn't entirely like it, though. Being sedentary, inactive in one place for even more than a day felt... Odd. Something didn't feel right about not having his boots on dirt, rifle in his hand, hiking at a generous pace, and hot air enveloping his body. It only made getting back home more of a priority, though, he had to find his ticket. And he didn't know when that would happen.
Nathan just got more annoyed by mulling in his seat and growled as he rubbed his forehead. He had to go out and find something to do.
"Athena," he called out, garnering a response from the AI as she appeared at his desk.
"Yes, Mr. Brin?" Athena asks, willing to help.
"Does this facility have a bar?"
"Hahaha, you must tell me more of your exploits!" boomed a large man walking down the hall, hugging with one arm Ana in a blue coat and her trademark eyepatch, and in the other, Brigitte in her plain, white tank top and red pants. "We have much catching up to do!"
"How about we talk more over a drink?" Ana suggested with a lighthearted smile on her face. "I'm sure I owe you plenty."
"But of course, my friend! What about you, Brigitte?"
The brunette playfully shrugged.
"Eh, sure," she accepted. "Helping pappa keep this base in check Twenty-Four-Seven is exhausting. Would be nice to relax."
So, the group made their way to the Watchpoint's bar, one of them ecstatic to share his tall tales and other just relieved to have a breather. As they entered the usually empty bar, however, they weren't expecting to see the New Californian sitting at the bar counter and helping himself to a glass of a caramel colored liquid over ice. He paid the group who had just entered no mind as he was just enamored with that computer on his wrist, sipping away at the glass. He didn't even sense the lion of a man approach him as he walked up to the bar top.
"Ah, the Ödländer graces us with his presence," Reinhardt announces to signify their arrival. "Have come to get yourself a drink, no?"
Midway through a drink, Nathan rotates on his stool and looks up at the man to give him a quizzical glower, then lowering the drink from his mouth but still retaining that look. As if he was perturbed by being disturbed with his drink. A second later, air escapes his mouth as he rotates back into place and brings the glass up to his lips.
"Why else would I be at a bar drinking Scotch?" Brin asked rhetorically, shaking his head as he looked down at the liquid.
"Well, would you be willing to have a drink with us?" the German asked. "We have tales to share, and I'm sure you do, too."
The Courier perked an eyebrow and looked at Reinhardt and that prideful demeanor he had on him, and back to Brigitte and Ana, the latter being watchful of their entire conversation with her one eye. He thought about the invite, contemplating the choice he had. He came to the bar with the intention of drinking, though.
"Thanks for offering to listen to me jaw for a while," he said, the smell of alcohol pervading his breath. "But I'll pass."
"Suit yourself."
As the others gathered their drinks and went to occupy a booth for their activities, Nathan was left alone to his thoughts and relative silence. He would be lying if he didn't say he already felt better being here, nuzzling a drink close to him. Relishing in the solitude. Until something decided to break it.
"Well, butter my ass and call me a biscuit," uttered a Western drawl as a McCree took a seat right next to Brin, for whatever reason, setting his hat on the counter. "Didn't expect to see you here."
"Expect to see me anywhere, Cowboy?" Nathan asked seriously, almost derisively. "Figured you wouldn't care."
Jesse didn't respond as he grabbed a bottle of liquor, the bottle Nathan was helping himself to, and two shot glasses, pouring half-and-half in both. He then produced another bottle of a liquid that was darker in complexion than the Scotch and poured it into the shot glasses until they were full. He grabbed one of them by the brim and planted it directly in front of the man next to him, thumping lightly on wood. The recipient's brow furrowed as he turned his head to address the man.
"What's this for?" he asked as he picked up the shot with his index finger and thumb, bringing it up to his eyes.
"For savin' my ass with that fancy shootin'," Jesse explained as he picked up his shot. "Now, I ain't saying we got to be 'BFF's' or all 'mushy-gushy', alright? Just showing some appreciation."
The Cowboy was straight, to the point, and earnest in his explanation for this olive branch. The Courier liked that.
"Hmm... Fair enough," he states as he held up his glass to McCree. "Cheers."
Both their shots clink, and they both throw their heads back as they down the contents of their glasses. Nathan clicks his tongue, trying to savor the after-taste, a surprisingly pleasant one.
"Huh, not bad," the Waster remarks, feeling it burn down his gullet.
"Glad to hear it," the Cowboy responds. "Want some more?"
"Sure. How 'bout one of them cigars, too?"
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, pardner."
That uttered a short laugh from Nathan as he watched Jesse pour another shot for him.
"Though," McCree started, passing him his drink. "There is one thing I gotta ask. Been gnawin' at me ever since you got here."
"What?" Brin asked, downing his other shot before he goes back to his glass of Scotch.
"The hell's with those fingers and the ear you had in your pack? You don't have some sick collection, do you?"
"Oh, those? Nah, those are just used to identify people with bounties on their heads."
"They're used to claim bounties? Huh, that's interestin'."
"It's also easier than carrying severed heads."
McCree gave the bounty hunter both a look of mild shock and disgust, before looking at his shot glass and deciding to pour himself another shot. Nathan started to fill his glass with more nectar of the gods until that got interrupted.
"Mr. Brin," Athena announced over the speakers. "Please report to Winston, he has something to brief you on."
"Can't even get drunk in peace in this place," Nathan complains as he takes a generous gulp of his drink before he gets off his stool. "Later, McCree. Thanks for the shots."
Slightly inebriated and the smell of alcohol radiating off his breath, he made his way to Winston's and, fortunately, didn't take long in doing so. He had reached the inside of the ground floor and saw no one, yet, he heard a ruckus from upstairs. A British ruckus.
Nathan started to crouch low to the ground, hugging to the rail as he snuck up the stairs. He could see the light shining from the office and could see the Gorilla and Brit's exchange, with the latter going off on a rant while the former sat there, with an irritated look on his face.
"-honestly believe it's a good idea to have him and me on the same team? Are you daft?" Lena exclaimed, concern and annoyance apparent in her tone. "If anything, that oaf will jus-"
"Lena, you're clearly overreacting!" Winston stated, trying to calm down his friend. "And this is meant to be a safety precaution since you barely made it out alive from your last mission. Besides, the report Angela gave me about him was generally positive and iterated how capable he could be."
"I'm not saying Angel is talking out of her arse, but why him?"
"Yeah. Why me?"
They turned around, wide-eyed, to see the man of the hour behind them and with his arms crossed over his chest and giving them both glares. Lena, likewise, returned the expression. Winston fidgeted in the moments of silence that permeated between the two until cleared his throat and bring back all focus of the conversation back to him.
"I-uh-see that you came at my request," he stated, trying to speak through all the hostility in the air. "Good, I called you here to brief you on a mission that you and Lena will have to undertake in Britain. I'll send someone else along as well."
"That still doesn't answer what I, or she, asked," Nathan noted, his demeanor unchanging even with alcohol flowing through his system. "If Ms. Oxton is so opposed to me even being on the same team, why me? Why not anyone else?"
"As I've said countless times before, we're stretched thin as it is. With the skills you possess, you and Lena may be the right choices to have for this mission. Also, Talon may once again be behind whatever is brewing in 'King's Row'. It could lead you further to finding your ticket back home."
"Any other reason I should come along for this deployment?"
"Well, it may require more 'brute force' than your last mission. So, it could be right up your alley."
"Hmm... I'll think about it."
Lena scowled at Nathan as soon as he said that before she addressed Winston with an earnest expression.
"I hope you know what you're doing, love," she worriedly wished to her furry friend.
She looked back at Nathan and stuck her tongue out at him before she blinked out of the room, leaving them in a blue flash. The tall man only looking back and shaking his head.
"She really doesn't like me, huh?" he asks, despite knowing why it was like that.
"I guess. Kinda surprised actually," the Gorilla explained, seemingly befuddled as he scratched the back of his head. "Could never expect someone like her to hold a grudge like this."
"Right... So, 'report', huh?"
"Uh, excuse me?"
Nathan turns around and gives Winston accusatory glare, his brow furrowed and his lips thinning.
"You mentioned Angela writing a report about me," he recalled from their exchange. "What is that about?"
"Oh! U-uh, well..." Winston stuttered, trying to come up with a response that wouldn't anger the man too much. "Angela... Had concerns about our deal and handing over technology to you. That she, understandably, thought you would misuse in any way. So, I asked her to accompany you on the mission you were sent on to Egypt and observe you and give a report to me once you came back."
"…And?"
Winston tried to put on a wide smile, "The report was, uh, generally favorable!"
Nathan cocked his head to the side, ignoring the positivity he was trying to feign, "What if it wasn't?"
"Then I, uh, would've had to restrict the level of technology you would've had access to."
Nathan just stood there, his expression unchanging as he sighed and reached behind to his back pocket. Winston seized up, getting ready to take drastic action, but he settled down almost immediately as he sees the man pull out a pack of cigarettes, pop one into his mouth, and bring that shiny lighter of his to the tip and setting it aflame. He takes a long drag from the stick and takes it out of his mouth to blow a large cloud up in the air inside, before sticking the cigarette back in. The gorilla could smell the tobacco from where he was.
"Next time you make a deal," the Courier says, turning around to leave. "Don't keep your client in the dark. That's a good way to lose one."
"I-I'm sorry..." Winston tried to apologize but got no response from the man as he was soon out of sight.
Freeside, Mojave Wasteland
2285
The Northern Freeside Gates lurched forward and croaked out a grating metal noise, opening to the trio that trekked through the desert for almost two days, making the sight of Vegas proper was a welcomed sight. Or, at least the territories surrounding Vegas proper seem as such. In hindsight, they regretted not taking up the Elder's request to at least rest up at the bunker before heading off to Freeside, but they did make sure the time they spent was not wasted. Besides, it wasn't like they weren't used to making such long trips on foot. Boone and Cooper, especially, regarding their times with their mutual friend.
They stepped into Freeside, looking around and taking it in for what it was: a shithole. Parmley stopped to look around with his tired eyes and let out a bemused huff as he took in the less than pleasant scenery. Boone paid no mind to it, having been dragged through this slum multiple times.
"So, this is Freeside?" the Ranger asked, not sure what to think of the new surroundings. "Honestly don't know what I expected."
"It ain't too bad, at least now," Boone remarked as he looked around. "Nathan did a lot of good for this place, too. For the Followers. For the Kings. Hell, even some barkeeps are indebted to him."
"Still looks like a slum, though."
"Trust me, it was worse before Nathan came along and the Followers, Kings, and even NCR started whipping this place into shape, or as best as they could. Speaking of the Followers."
In his sight were the brick wall and wooden gate of the Old Mormon Fort, the Follower's base of operations for their Mojave branch. In a place full of dilapidated buildings, crumbling rubble, and piles of refuse, the Fort was, almost automatically, the diamond in the rough for many. It was also where they might find theirs.
The centuries-old wooden gates creaked and groaned as they pushed it inwards to let themselves inside. They immediately spotted Followers, guards, and patients all roaming about to wherever they were needed inside the perimeter. Things seemed busier than usual. However, Boone narrowed his sharp eyes trying to pick out one person from the crowd, the one who could point them in the right direction.
"Boone?"
He seemed to work too hard, that time.
Turning around he sees the surprised look of a woman in a white Followers coat and a very prominent mohawk atop her head.
"Farkas," he greeted, with a smirk on his face. "Long time, no see."
"Same," the administrator warmly returned. "Who're your friends?"
"This Ranger's Parmley."
Parmley tips the brim of his hat to the woman.
"And this here's Cooper."
Cooper enthusiastically barks, wagging his tail all the while.
"It's a pleasure to meet all of you," she said before she raised her eyebrows when she noticed something missing. "Where's Nathan?"
"Er-well, that's what we came here for, ma'am," Parmley explained. "We actually have reason to believe the Courier's gone missing."
"What?" she asked, shocked and afraid what that could mean. "That's awful! Are you sure?"
"That's why we're here, Julie," Boone stated. "We were told Veronica was here, do you know where she is?"
"Yes, of course. Follow me."
Leading them through the crowds, they four found themselves at the entrance of a tent that was for some reason had two Kings on the outside. Julie told them something, prompting them to look at the entourage behind her before one nodded at the woman and gave them the okay to enter. They all filed in under the tent flap, their eyes adjusting to the darkness before they can finally see who else was inside. They see a man in a crisp white suit and a black undershirt, watching a woman in a white coat like Julie's work on something metal. Parmley couldn't believe it, but it was a metal dog.
"Veronica," Julie announced. "A friend's here to see you."
"Julie," the girl let out as she sighed and got up to face them. "Y'know I don't like it when people interrupt..."
Her face, now revealed to be light in complexion and short black hair on her head, was now in shock as she gazed upon the man in front of her. One of the few friends she made in the Mojave. Boone couldn't help but smirk upon seeing her as well, after what seemed like ages.
"Hey, Vero- oof!"
The 1st Recon Sharpshooter almost lost his balance as the former-Brotherhood Scribe crashed into him and wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace, her face burrowing into his shoulder deeper than a Molerat. He could only chuckle as he returned the favor and wrapped his arms around her, and for a few moments, the worries that plagued him for the past few days seemingly disappeared and all felt right in the world. A shame their mutual friend wasn't there to see the reunion
"Heh," Parmley let out, watching the scene unfold. "Ain't that sweet?"
"Aroo?" Cooper responded, cocking his head as he watched the two.
Their exchange couldn't last forever, though, and Boone eventually had to let go and give Veronica some space so they could have a conversation properly.
"Hope I'm not interrupting something?" the Sniper asks, although it seems a bit late for that.
"No, no! It's..." she stammers before looking back at the man and the dog.
"It's fine, Veronica," the man said, an interesting cadence in his voice. "I'm sure Rexie can wait a bit, can ya' boy?"
"Woof!" the mechanical canine replies.
Veronica turns back to address their visitors, almost beaming at this point. Though, she felt like there was a reason for them being here.
"What are you guys doing here?" she asks.
"We have to discuss something," Boone answered, his demeanor quickly changing as he thought about what he was going to say next. "It's about Nathan."
After some more pleasant exchanges between the two friends, Boone and Parmley finally explain why they dragged themselves across the Mojave to find Veronica. Of Cooper being captured by the Legion, the bodies by the satellite, and McNamara pointing them here. Julie, Rex, and The King hang onto every detail and could only listen as the previously pleasant good feelings were now replaced with somber and worrisome thoughts. The Courier, the one who was practically a godsend to Freeside, missing? And missing due to some technology that was beyond them? Veronica, of course, had a hard time listening. Probably the hardest out of all of them.
"Oh, no…" was all the Scribe could mutter. "What did you get yourself into, Nathan?"
"Yeah..." Boone conceded. "More or less thought the same when I saw what he got himself into. So, you gonna help us?"
"I-I don't know! I just only got accepted into the Followers after scavenging in the dirt for almost four years, ever since we all parted ways after Hoover Dam, but I would do anything to save Nathan if he got himself in trouble. If I was there for him in Utah..."
Julie spoke up, kind and understanding in her tone, "Don't worry about us, Veronica, you've already done so much for us, even before you joined. It already seems like you're needed elsewhere, for now."
The Scribe looked at her boss and gave a thankful nod. Knowing she joined the right people.
"First, I need to finish fixing up Rex here," she stated, addressing the search party. "But as soon as I'm finished? Yeah, you bet your ass I'm coming."
"How 'bout you take Rex with you?" the King spoke up, bringing all attention onto him.
"Are you sure about that, King?" Veronica asks, a bit concerned at why he was just offering his dog like that. "What if he gets hurt?"
"I'm sure he'll be fine, especially with all of you. He's as much of a friend to Nathan as he is to me. And when he needs to be saved? Hmph, it's now or never, right boy?"
Rex couldn't really answer as he was too busy messing around with Cooper, the older dog still energetic after all these years.
"I guess that settles it," Julie Farkas observed, the leader of the Follower's Mojave branch smiling to see the search party assembled to find the Courier and couldn't think of a better person to recruit than Veronica. "I hope you all find Nathan and come back safe. Good luck!"
Special thanks to a real-life friend of mine for helping me with Sombra's Spanish. ¡Gracías, mi amigo!
