Revised on the 2nd of November 2017
Hey guys, PoeticPillock here! Kept you waiting, huh? Don't worry, pretty soon I'm going to finish up this semester of Uni and I should be back to a more regular schedule, as long as life doesn't intervene too much. For now, here's what I concocted in the spare time I had. Hope you enjoy!
Watchpoint: Gibraltar, Mediterranean
2076
Morning overtook the base as it began revving back to life as the personnel stationed there began their day. Whether it was to maintain the Watchpoint, keeping an inventory check on their supplies, or being assigned to missions – it was another day in the office for the renounced organization. Yet, not everyone was buried in tons of errands.
Jesse McCree, who disliked getting up in the morning as much as the next agent, walked through the hallways as he made his way to the mess hall to get himself some breakfast. A field agent can't exactly get their day started on an empty stomach, and the cowboy was more than happy to help himself to some breakfast. Wasn't the best food in the world but it was good enough for it to go down easier than most. Especially when compared to the other diets he had to subsist on for the past couple of years.
The route he took was a usual one, one he traveled almost every morning. Every room, window, door, and light looked the same as they ever did; Nothing new, really. He then walked by a doorway that led to a separate room, looking through it for a moment, passing by without a second thought until the gunslinger stopped and did a double-take. Peering inside what was basically a lounge – furnished with a flat screen T.V., a couch, and a coffee table – he spotted Genji sitting on the coffee table for some reason. Puzzled as to why he would sit on that instead of the couch, Jesse walked in. As he got close to the Cyborg Ninja, he saw he was taking a meditative posture with his back to the approaching Cowboy and facing a sleeping man on the couch. He was dressed in a uniform too tight for him, gear splayed out all over the floor near the couch, and overly tall for the lounger as his legs hung over the other end. The sleeping man was on his side, his back to them, but Jesse recognized that it was Nathan. That only provoked more questions.
"Uhh," a confused groan escaped his mouth as he looked at his metallic co-worker. "What are ya' doin'?"
"Meditating," Genji answered, his visor still focused on the sleeping man.
"What's Brin doin' here?"
"I am not sure. I found him here when it was dawn. Been watching over him ever since."
"Really? That's a bit creepy, Genji."
A short chuckle emanated from the metal man as his head turned to look over his shoulder. A smirk was hidden under that mask.
"I am only joking, Jesse. I did come here to relax but he has been here since I found him. It would've been rude to wake him up."
"Right…"
After that short little exchange, the man sleeping on the couch began to shuffle. Nathan made various guttural groans as his body turned and laid his back flat against the seats as his right arm hung over the edge. His head shook a bit, rubbing against the couch's armrest as he murmured more. His eyelids parted, slowly and blinking repeatedly as his vision tried to focus. Then, they grew in surprise as he looks up to see a Cyborg on a table and a Cowboy in a red flannel looking down at him.
"Uhm…" he croaked out, his throat feeling dry. "Do you guys usually watch people in their sleep or…?"
"You mumble in your sleep," Genji noted, straight-faced. "Why are you here, anyway?"
Nathan groaned as his head slumped back and closed his eyes.
"I got back from Oasis, tired as hell, and tried to find my quarters. Instead, I found this room and this comfy lookin' couch. Lied down to rest on it for a bit and… Guess I just nodded off."
After his explanation, McCree smirked as he bent down and nudged Genji in the shoulder.
"Sounds familiar, don't it?" the former-Blackwatch agent said to the other.
"Yes," Genji responded. "Except you usually passed out from being a drunkard, and I always had to help Commander Reyes carry you back to your quarters."
"Hmph, guess you got a faulty memory then. Well, I was just headin' to the mess to grab some grub. I'll leave you two be, then."
The Cowboy then left, Genji nodding to him and Nathan lazily waving a hand as he shut his eyes again and tried to go back to sleep. Genji then pivoted his body to face the T.V. and grabbed the remote that was next to him. The screen came to life on a news channel, a brunette newswoman facing the camera as the image of a city in the desert was right next to her. She spoke as the headline "Incident at Ministry Held Banquet at Oasis – Overwatch Involved?" was at the bottom.
"In response to the recent firefight and supposed kidnapping at a banquet held by the Ministries in honor of former-Overwatch head medical researcher, Dr. Angela Ziegler, the United Nations has launched an investigation into the incident. Citing that it could possibly be related to the 'New Overwatch' and provide further clues about their resurgence."
Genji could hear the man on the couch behind him grumbling, unsure if it was the volume of the T.V. or the content on it. Either way, he lowered the volume a tad out of courtesy.
"The Ministries, the governing body of the city of Oasis, have stated that they will cooperate with the U.N. and provide any information they have regarding the event. Dr. Ibrahim Hassoun, one of the founding members of Oasis and an attendee of the banquet, had this to say."
Nathan's eyes snapped open when he heard his name.
"On the behalf of the Ministries and the city of Oasis, we are deeply sorry for the incident that occurred last night," the old man spoke at a podium with microphones all over it, looking at a crowd offscreen. "We especially give our condolences to the loved ones of those that have had their lives taken during the event, and to those who had to be put through a very stressful and horrible situation. I promise, the Ministries and I will continue to work diligently to ensure that our great and prosperous city can still be considered one of the safest and most secure places in the world."
"Lying piece of shit," Genji heard Nathan growl from behind.
The screen switched back to the brunette.
"While details of the incident are still being investigated, many have speculated that it was a group of Omnic terrorists that perpetrated the attempted kidnappings and that there was another party who engaged in combat with the Omnics. Much of this information was gathered from eyewitnesses who were present at the event. The party has not yet been identified, but there is the possibility of a link to the New Overwatch as the whereabouts of Dr. Angela Ziegler are still unknown. We will keep you updated as the investigation uncovers more."
Nathan felt himself being riled as the news report ended, already tired of hearing from it and not wanting to be reminded of it so soon. He was about to ask his fellow cyborg to switch to something else until the base's intercom went off.
"Nathan Brin, please report to Winston's laboratory," Athena announced.
He wanted to complain about the always impeccable timing of those announcements, as they always seemed to go out of their way to inconvenience him almost every day. Not even waiting for a full day after a mission. Grumbling, he rose from his chair and gathered his things, waving goodbye to Genji as he left and got away from the sound of the news.
Winston's lab was always messy and disorganized, this time no exception, as he was conducting another one of his experiments. However, instead of trying to work on a shield generator or tackling anything related to time-displacement, he was trying to get a training bot to be invisible. Not something he would usually be doing, but the Scientist didn't have the luxury of being free to choose projects. It was, unsurprisingly, difficult. Frustrating, as well.
Taking the schematics and physical possession of a "Stealth-Boy" the Wastelander had given to him, he reverse-engineered the technology and tried to make his own version so that it could be fielded with agents in future missions. Cloaking technology, especially of this caliber, is certainly something he would be a fool to pass up on. It only made Winston more interested as to what other pieces of technology the Courier possessed from this supposed "other world". It certainly wasn't like anything he's seen, before. Or, that's what he thought, at first.
The fact that it used a form of actual radiation to encompass the user in a stealth field was very concerning and made him speculate more on how vastly different Nathan's technology operated compared to theirs. It might be a long time before he could create a proper prototype to test with organic subjects, but he's not going to sacrifice safety anytime soon.
"Okay, Athena," Winston said to the AI assisting him for the experiment. "Activate the field."
Hearing the energy surge through, the bot's metal form shimmered before a cloaking field encompassed it with crackling electricity. Not entirely, however, as parts of its body were still visible, the field of transparency wavering. Winston rubbed his furry chin as he pondered what the problem could be.
"All right, you can shut it off now," he requested, the cloaking field then dissipating in an electric fizzle. "How are the readings this time?"
"An increase of the power output by 66% is still insufficient for the cloaking field," Athena answered, holographic charts appearing in front of Winston. "Maximum amount of surface area affected by the cloaking field: 35%."
That only made him puff out in frustration as he went over to the nearby workbench and looked over the notes again. Cycling through the papers and scanning over them. His eyes then fell onto an actual Stealth-Boy, picking it up and taking a close look at the strange device. The renowned genetically-modified Gorilla scientist confused by how such an unwitting, oddly-designed object could perform such a complex function.
"Reverse engineering a machine with a vacuum tube is more complicated than I thought…" he remarked, making note of the strange choice of hardware it had. One of the first things that struck him odd and make an internet search to double-check.
He then heard a knock at the door and turned around to see Nathan walking in with a less than amused expression.
"You wanted to see me?" the man asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Um, yes, I did," the Scientist cleared his throat. "Uh, glad you're here!"
Nathan didn't really believe that. Staring at the ape for several moments before huff out of his mouth.
"So, what's up?" he asked, wanting the conversation to move on.
"It's an experiment I'm conducting. Involving the stealth technology, you gave me. Thanks, for that, by the way!"
"What's the problem?"
"I'm having a… uh… bit of trouble with it."
"How so?"
Athena then began to speak on Winston's behalf, expediting the awkward conversation.
"We have been experiencing technical difficulties trying to successfully replicate and use a device as effective as your Stealth-Boy. Trials so far have developed sub-par results."
"'Sub-par' how?" the Courier asks.
"The subject, which is the training bot in front of you, has only been successfully cloaked an average of 26.7%."
"That low?"
The spectacled Gorilla spoke up this time. "We believe it may be an issue of the power source, but no matter how high we raise the output, the results are still lacking."
The man looked at the ape, then at the training bot. He walked over to it, his hands trying to feel for an opening. Not a second later, he found it and swung it open, exposing the insides to see a mess of wires and circuits boards. There was a device latched to the middle, that had a cable that ran down to the floor and snaked across to an outlet on the nearby wall. That gave him a clue.
"What power source are you using?" he asked.
"We've decided to plug it into an electrical outlet and control its power output," the Gorilla explained.
"Why? These things weren't designed to use electricity from a plug."
"I can see that now, but I'm rather hesitant on using a nuclear power source for the device. Could lead to some unwanted side-effects."
He looked back at the exposed panel, seeing the cable dangle from it. It looked weird like that. Cumbersome. Would've been better to attach a battery to it, which was already its original design.
"Wait," Brin let out. "Weapons in this world use fusion cells, right? Like the kid's pink handgun?"
"'Kid?'" Winston asked, pushing up his glasses.
"Song."
"Oh, yes, her pistol uses fusion cells along with some of the other weapons in our arsenal."
"And fusion is a clean source of energy. Or, at least as clean as it can be with radiation, right?"
"You would be fair in that assumption."
"Then why not just slap a fusion cell or two with your device and have it be powered that way? If it's good enough to be used in a handgun, why not this?"
Winston's face scrunched up, assessing the validity in what Nathan was proposing to him. In a way, it made sense; Hotwiring what were essentially batteries to his device to power it would be simple, and while it was still a form of radiation it shouldn't cause any significant damage. Pulse weapons are constantly held by their users and there was little to no fallout ejected from them. It didn't hurt them if they were on the other side of the business end. He was more trusting of those batteries than whatever power sources the device originally used if the notes were any warning. He's surprised he didn't think of this solution earlier with how simple it is.
"I suppose that could work," the Scientist stated, at least pleased to find a somewhat feasible solution. "I would actually like to test this hypothesis of yours, but I don't have any fusion cells with me, right now. You're already here so, uh, can you-?"
"You want me to fetch you some fusion cells do you?" the Courier finished the thought for him, almost automatically as he gave him a deadpan gaze.
"Yes! Uhm, if you're fine with it, of course. You sound busy. Er, I can ask someone else if you'd like."
Winston smiled sheepishly as he suggested that, Nathan just staring at him. The tall bearded man then sighed as he brought up his Pip-Boy and turned a knob to make the screen blink.
"I ain't got anything better to do," he said, eyes still on the screen. "Can you point me in the right direction?"
"Head to the quartermaster, near the armory," Winston explained. "Just tell him I'm running an experiment and he should give you what I need."
"Right. I'm heading off then.
"Great! Uh, thanks."
Nathan only lazily raised his left hand as he walked out of the lab and made his way to the armory. Thankfully, he knew where it was as it was one of the first places he scoped out in the base when he was given "freedom" after being contracted. He doesn't remember there being a quartermaster, however, shrugging it off as possibly someone he didn't meet yet.
Only when he got there did he learn he was wrong, and now regretting taking up the task for the ape while he explained it to the diminutive Swedish head engineer - now revealed quartermaster. The Swede seemed displeased with the Californian's presence there.
"So, you want me to hand over some of our pulse ammunition to you, which you will promptly give to Winston, who plans to use it for an experiment involving one of your doohickeys?" Torbjörn recounted, his face ever skeptical as he stared at the taller man – at the same eye level somehow – through a booth that acted as a stand for the armory with a wall of weapons behind him.
"Yeah, that's that gist of it," Nathan responds, his eyes drifting to the dwarf's legs. "Are you standing on a raised platform?"
"Don't change the subject! Now answer me this: Why should I hand over some of our ammunition to you?"
"I thought I told you."
"I got that part. No, why should I hand them over to you?"
Nathan's eyes narrowed at the Swede, out of confusion rather than malice.
"I've been here for weeks," he explained. "I've gone out on a few missions with your co-workers, and they weren't exactly a walk in the park. I had to save their asses in some cases and they had to save mine. What else is this about? Bastion?"
"Nope, that Omnic has nothing to do with what we're discussing," the Engineer dismissed, waving a metal hand. "I feel like you need to prove yourself before I hand them off to you."
"Prove myself? They're essentially batteries. I don't see how taking them from one place to another would be a problem. I would know."
"I know you can walk. It's just that we're in a bit of a supply problem given our dicey spot in the world, today. As you can imagine, I'm not enthusiastic about handing off some of our precious ammo to you just so Winston can run some experiments. They might get lost and pulse ammunition is expensive."
"Are you calling me a klutz or a thief?"
"We'll see after I give you a simple task."
Not even a second after he said that did Brin begin to roll his eyes, folding his left arm across his chest and using it to support the other arm palming his face. Seems like he couldn't get away from people asking errands of him as much as he couldn't get away from the intercoms. Reminding him of times in the Mojave where he would go on to do one chore for one person and come back having done three. He didn't want to go back to the Gorilla empty-handed, however. He already said "yes".
"I should've known," Nathan groaned, raising his head up with a scowl. "What do you want?"
"I'm glad you asked," Torbjörn said with a shit-eating grin Nathan wanted to punch. "You see, I also have some projects of my own. A different field from Winston's but still important, nonetheless. I need you to get some resources for me."
"Anything specific?"
"I was getting to that. The storage warehouse that we have on base should have what I need. Go there and retrieve me some scrap."
"Scrap? As in random bits of junk?"
"Junk, metal, spare parts, anything that I can use to build something useful. I'm going to need… ten containers of scrap. How you get them here, I don't care."
If Torbjörn was asking his friends or anyone else on the base, they probably would've gone off merrily and do all the hard work for the dwarf. The Wastelander, however, was quick to speak up against the arrangement.
"Ten boxes of scrap?" the Courier questioned. "Are you sure you're going to use them all?"
"What do you mean?" the Engineer responded, eyeing the taller man.
"First, you didn't really specify how big the containers should be, so I might end up bringing you more than you would need. Might make your workshop a bit more packed and cluttered than it should be. And I thought engineers don't waste unnecessarily?"
Nathan knew he wasn't so much as helping the Engineer better plan his workload as he was making sure his own wasn't so much. Gathering ten nondescript boxes of random shit didn't sound all that great. Negotiating the arrangement was only natural for someone like him.
Torbjörn still eyed the man, seeming annoyed. Or angry. Nathan couldn't really tell as he's never seen him in any other state.
"Hmm, I see your point," the Engineer admitted, stroking his beard with his real hand. "In that ten is too small of a number for someone as resourceful as me. So, bring me fifteen boxes of scrap!"
"You've got to be kidding," the Courier responded, his plan backfiring.
"Try to weasel your way out of the job and I'll make it twenty-five! Now, chop-chop! They better be big and filled to the brim, or you aren't getting those cells."
Nathan's brow furrowed, giving the one-eyed dwarf a dirty look before he turned around and went on his way to find some scrap. Grumbling all the while. And to think he was done with this.
Making another trip throughout the base, Nathan found the storage area deeper within the Watchpoint. The area was rather secluded from the rest of the base, noting how he didn't see that many personnel walking around or even the lights functioning where he went, whether out of disrepair or disuse. It didn't seem to store anything like weapons or missile salvos, just crates of unseen contents stacked high across metal scaffoldings. The area has seen better days with dust everywhere, some of it clouding around wherever his boots fell. Even had to turn on his Pip-Boy light as it was getting dim, the only other sources of light being warehouse windows near the roof and letting some of the Mediterranean sunshine in through the cloudy glass panes.
As he walked along the aisle of the scaffolding he observed some interesting pieces of non-metallic junk. Ration packets and MRE's, office equipment, medical supplies, and what appeared to be a set of posters. He didn't pay too much time to them as he walked by, concerned with more pressing tasks at hand. Rounding another aisle did he finally find a corner occupied with piles and crates full of scrap, junk, and metal that probably required him to be inoculated after handling. Conveniently, there was a flatbed cart just a couple of meters away from it. It didn't have wheels, but pressing the big power button on the handle made it whir to life as a blue glow from its four corners lifted it off the ground. Even something as simple as a cart had to float.
"Time to get to work…" Nathan said to no one in particular, hearing his own voice echo throughout the large room.
It was a simple job, gathering boxes and filling them with whatever stuff he could find. To the brim, as per the request. The boxes were old, white cardboard that had the Overwatch symbol on the sides, some of them crusty and wet but the dwarf didn't specify container quality. This wasn't his shit, so the Courier wasn't meticulous at all as he unceremoniously threw them in; If it looked metallic and useful it went in the boxes. However, as the Waster picked through the piles and felt the cold metal parts touch and leave his palms, he felt a strange nostalgia wash over him, as if reminiscing picking up scrap. Well, reminiscing wasn't the right word as that usually implied pleasant thoughts, not going through centuries-old ruins and stuffing random junk into his pack. But there was something about going back to the Lucky 38, Novac, or any of the safehouses he "owned" throughout the Mojave and just offloading the day's catch. Spending the night at his workbench and trying to concoct something useful before going to bed. If he was back home in his own little bunker, he would be careful and delicate to where he placed the little pieces of scrap and organize them, so he could easily utilize them when the need arose. He always had a surplus of repair kits.
After around ten-to-fifteen minutes of finding more "quality" scrap, the cart finally full of the needed items. A few of them had to be stacked on top of each other as the bed ran out of space. Nathan was just glad to be done and over with it, as this was boring and monotonous. What else did he expect from fetching something as simple as discarded parts? Unless he planned to build a bunker from rusted, corrugated metal, these types of jobs were hardly interesting.
Getting on with it and pushing the cart forward, he lazily drifted along the aisle as he leaned against the handle. Nathan looked around, once more, seeing the same style crate and boxes lining the shelves. As he passed another aisle and looked to his left, he spotted something shimmering in the low light. It looked like gold, at first, but upon closer inspection did he see that it was a hat. A dark-blue cap with half the insignia of a golden gear on the front. He reached over to it and grabbed the cap by its ripped-up brim, clearly been through some use. Not the worst he's seen.
"Doesn't look half bad," he admitted, flicking the dust off it before fitting it atop his head.
With his new piece of apparel, he kept carting through the aisle but found himself interrupted increasingly by the sight of interesting trinkets. Deciding to take his time as he perused through the aisle as he was sure his clients can wait a bit. Some of the more interesting things he found were brightly designed books, odd-looking clothing, and boxes of what appeared to be holiday decorations. What specifically some of them were, the Waster didn't have a clue. Then, as he was about to finally leave the aisle and make his way to the exit, his Pip-Boy's light glistened off a shiny, beige surface. His eyes darted to it out of instinct and he would've kept walking if the sight of it didn't make him stop in his tracks. Leaning in and raising his left wrist to get a better view, he saw the laminated, wooden shell of an acoustic guitar. Six strings and all. Letting go of the cart, he reached in with both hands and grabbed the body on either side, pulling forward and knocking some things around. Feeling the hollow wood and its strings shake with each reverb. Finally, he got it out from the shelves, completely covered in a thick layer of dust. Nathan blew it off, patting it away and making it cloud the space around him. After that, he flipped it and took a good look at its front. It was in pretty good condition.
Holding the guitar, wrapping his fingers around the neck and feeling the metal strings rub against his calloused skin. Curious, he plucked the thickest string on the guitar, listening to it let out a single note before it faded into the air. The Wastelander thought about doing more with it, but he still had a job to do, thinking about that as he put the stringed instrument back where he found it.
"Nah, not now," he remarked, making a mental note of where he found it.
Suddenly, he noticed a faint blue glow shining off the guitar wood from behind his shoulder. Surprised, he turned around and came face to face with a floating, dome-shaped robot. It had a blue paint job over its body, hovered with thrusters that propelled a blue substance, and blue eyes that appeared to widen as two metal flaps on the sides of its head flipped up. Its "eyes" then turning into arrows pointing to the center of its visor, it flew away and went behind a set of boxes. It was out of view, but he could hear it was just behind the boxes, with a hushed voice talking to it.
"Snowball! Nǐzài zuò shénme?!" the hushed voice said behind the boxes, in a language that sounded vaguely familiar if he remembered anything from those Pre-War propaganda films.
"Hey!" Nathan called out. "Who's there?"
After a few moments where silence hung in the air, there was movement again and he saw two sets of eyes pop up from the side. The first being the robot's blue lights, and the second being brown eyes behind thick black-rimmed eyeglasses. The person then got out of cover with the robot, now revealing herself in the dim light. She had brown hair, a blue tank top, and black sweatpants topped with a pair of light blue slippers. Her hair was tied into a bun with a hairpin that had a red pommel and a snowflake charm hanging from it with a chain. The other thing on her that was red was her face, having been caught.
She cleared her throat, before displaying a sheepish smile.
"Uh, hiya!" she waved with a heavy accent, still trying to feign that smile. "I-I apologize for my friend here. He's not very respectful of people's personal space."
She then shot a glare over to her robotic companion, whose eyes proceeded to "roll".
"I see," Nathan said, noting the woman's short stature when he looked down at them both. "May I ask what you were doin' skulking around here?"
"Oh, I was just going to get something for some work of mine. Wasn't expecting to find anyone else here."
"Well, I won't keep you, then, Ms…"
"Mei-Ling Zhou. But you can call me Mei!" announcing her name with a friendly cheer in her voice, beaming. Nathan perked an eyebrow before swiftly nodding and pushing the cart forward.
"Well, Ms. Zhou, I'll leave you be then-"
"Actually, can you help me with something really quick?"
Nathan bowed his head and winced under the dim light, before looking up to address the woman.
"Yes?"
"I'm really sorry if this seems like a bother," the lady started apologizing before specifying what she needed. "But what I actually need is out of my reach. You seem tall enough. So, can you get it for me, please? If you can and have the time for it, of course."
"Where is it?" he groaned, already wanting her to get to it.
"It's actually right above you. The machine right there!"
She pointed over his head and looked up to the scaffolding to see a dome-shaped machine at the edge. That blue drone of hers then floated up next to the device and "gestured" to it, further confirming what she said. Reaching up, his fingertips gripped the metallic surface and brought it into his palms. It wasn't too heavy, and he soon presented it to the shorter woman who took it with glee.
"Thank you very much!" she graciously said to him, dusting off its hull and examining it.
However, after she did, her eyes drifted to the taller man who was patting his dust off his body.
"You're Nathan, aren't you?" she asked, observing him.
"What gave it away?" he asked, patting dust off his hands.
"Winston told me about you when I got here. It's very nice to meet you!"
Nathan just looked at her, noting how bubbly and cheery she seemed even though they only met just a minute earlier. If Winston did tell her about him, then he certainly wasn't expecting such a friendly attitude.
"Likewise, ma'am," he was pretty sure she was younger than him but still decided to be formal.
"Where are you going, if you don't mind me asking?" she enquired.
"I'm going to hand off all this scrap to Lindholm. After that, I'm heading off to the Gorilla."
"Oh, I was going to Winston, as well. That's why I was looking for this device. Maybe we can go together?"
"Do you have anywhere to be?"
"Just Winston's."
Nathan just looked at her as he pushed the cart forward. Then just shrugged as he looked ahead, again.
"Sure."
And so, the two humans plus one drone walked through the storage area and back out into the rest of the Watchpoint side-by-side at a leisurely pace. They did converse as they walked, or more precisely, Nathan listened to Mei go on as he silently pushed the cart. He was paying attention to her, listening to what she had to say. It was just that he had little to say or add on to the conversation other than a few words of acknowledgment. Not to be impolite, he just really didn't have much to talk about. Subjects he'd want to talk about, at least. That wasn't to say some of the things she had to say weren't interesting.
"So, where do you fit in Overwatch?" Mei asked, looking up at him.
"Was contracted by your furry friend, went on a few missions with the others," Nathan answered to some degree, slightly turning his head to address her. "You?"
"I'm a climatologist. I study the Earth's climate and work to make technology to help stabilize it in afflicted regions."
"Wait, so why are you with Overwatch, then?"
Mei, and her robot, then looked up at him in bewilderment, as if that response surprised her.
"I worked on one of the Ecopoints," she explained, an eyebrow raised. "Before Overwatch was shut down."
"Oh, did you?" the Waster let out, then trying to come up with a response as cover. "Sorry, my mind slipped. I'm just a bit tired."
"It's okay, I understand. Angela told me what had happened recently, and I can see why."
"Did she?"
"Yes, and thank you for saving her last night! I don't know what I would do with myself if she was gone."
"Erh, you're welcome, Ms. Zhou. Didn't know you were good friends with Dr. Ziegler. How is she, by the way?"
"Oh, she's doing well, thank you for asking. I'm sure she'll be happy to hear you want to know about her well-being. And please, just call me Mei."
After that little exchange, they had just reached the armory and Nathan carted up the heavy load of scrap to the booth. Torbjörn was there, still on the platform that elevated his height, but was engrossed in a holopad with machinery on the screen. Nathan knocked on the counter to get the dwarf's attention.
"Hey, I got your scrap, Blondie," he said, piles of junk next to him.
"Did you?" the Swede asked, turning in his seat as he looked up from the pad. "It better be a good haul or I'm-"
The Engineer's eyes went wide as his eyes fell upon the piece of headwear on Nathan's head, the man with the hat noticing the reaction. Suddenly, Torbjörn jumped up and reached for it, but Nathan swiftly stepped away out of his reach.
"Where did you get that?!" Torbjörn demanded, holding out his real arm.
"Found it in storage," Nathan answered, squinting at him.
"Gimme that!"
"Why?"
"Just gimme it!"
"Get me those fusion cells you promised, and I'll happily relinquish it."
Without a second thought, the Swede hopped of his platform and went to the back. They could hear him rummaging for something, the sound of metal falling and crashing as if he was in a rush. Then, just a few seconds later, the Quartermaster was back at the stall and presented an ammo box presumably full of fusion cells down onto the counter with a resounding thump. Nathan grabbed the ammo box by the handle and took the hat off to give it back, having it snatched out of his hand a split-second later. Torbjörn turns in his seat, his back to them, and hunches over as he looks at the hat in his hands. As Nathan turns around with what he came for, he could hear him mumbling something but couldn't make it out as he was already on his way.
"What was that about?" he asked aloud, examining the ammo box.
"It might have something to do with that hat you were wearing," Mei answered, looking back at the armory over her shoulder. "I think I saw him wear it once."
"When?"
"A long time ago. Back in the Swiss base. Err, when we still had a Swiss base."
Nathan glanced at Mei for a moment, speculating what she meant by that. Sounded like something worth searching up later on the Google thing.
"By the way, Nathan, where are you from?" Mei asked, bringing his attention back to her.
"Uh, California," he responded, hesitant on the wording.
"Oh, I've been there before! Took a flight that had to stop at Los Angeles once. Is that where you're from?"
"No, I'm from a town very far north of the Boneyard."
"'Boneyard'?"
"Oh, uh, it's a colloquialism."
"It sounds like it refers to the buildings, does it? I don't know, L.A. looks pretty nice even after the Crisis."
"Right."
If only she knew he was referring to a different war. Odd that she didn't…
Back at the lab, Winston was furiously typing onto his computer as he compiled the latest mission reports he's received over the past few days and began to look over all of them, taking a break from the stealth experiment until Nathan came back with those fusion cells. He was gone for quite some time, afraid that the Waster had gotten lost or was sidetracked by something. However, he heard someone walking into his lab and got off his seat to look over the railing. He was a bit surprised when he looked down to see the tall, scarred walking alongside a fellow scientific colleague. Mei seemed to be happily explaining something to the tall man, who listened to her as he held an ammunition case. With some haste, the Gorilla jumped onto the hanging tire from the roof and plopped down to the floor before walking up to them.
"Hey, Winston!" Mei was the first to greet him, holding a device up to him. "We got the things you needed."
"That's great," the fellow scientist stated, taking the spherical object in on hand. "Ready to get the experiment started?"
"Of course. Let me just get my things from upstairs. Let's go Snowball!"
With a content beeping, the drone then followed her out of the lab floor and up the stairs. Winston and Nathan's eyes following her as she went up before the man addressed the ape and held up the box to him.
"Here's your ammo," he merely said.
"Uh, thanks," Winston took the box, holding it against his chest with the arm holding the sphere. "It's good to see you're getting along with Mei, given the circumstances."
"What do you mean by that?" Nathan questioned, genuinely curious what that odd statement meant.
"Oh, it's just that I thought… Because of where Mei's from I thought you might be, understandably, somewhat upset."
"The hell are you talking about?"
"Uh, she's Chinese. That doesn't bother you?"
Nathan's eyes only narrowed, looking up to see if the Chinese woman was overhearing them.
"You'd think I give a shit?" he was now questioning.
"Well, given what had happened in your world - between the U.S. and China - and the outcome, I thought you would've had some strong opinions."
The Courier let out a puff of air as if he was about to laugh at what the ape just said.
"It's been over two-hundred years since it happened. People stopped caring about who-bombed-who in less time than that. They had more pressing matters."
"So, you're not mad at them? In the slightest?"
"I think everyone was stupid, but they've been dead for so long. There's no point. Even if I was, why would I blame her?"
Nathan crossed his arms over his chest and let out another puff, shaking his head.
"Now if you don't mind me asking," he started, his head raising to look Winston in the eye. "Dr. Zhou told me that you informed her of me when she arrived. Talking to her, it sounded like you didn't tell her much? How come?"
Before Winston could respond, his eyes drifted upward as well, watching to see if the Climatologist was there.
"I… Felt it would've been better if I didn't tell everyone answering the 'Recall' about your origin," the pseudo-commander explained, his eyes somewhat uncertain. "Only select individuals, such as the few that were here when our numbers were small. She's just a climatologist, so I don't think Mei needs to be bothered by information like that. Some of us are still having trouble believing it. Why, is there a problem?"
"Nah," the Courier dismissed. "She just seemed a bit friendlier than most. Thought something was off when she introduced herself so casually."
"Mei's always been like that. She's very positive about things. It's a nice change of pace having her around."
The sound of footsteps brought their attention to the stairs, seeing Mei and Snowball climbing down the steps. A huge tank of a blue substance strapped to her back with a hose device coming out from it.
"Ready to start the experiment, Winston!" the Chinese woman beamed.
"I'll take that as my cue to leave you guys be," the Californian remarked, nodding to Winston and then Mei before turning around to leave.
"See you later, then, Nathan!" Mei called, holding up her hand and craning her fingers.
The man lazily waved back, already out onto the Gibraltar rock.
He wasn't going to lie, it felt odd talking with someone so casually and nonchalantly like that. Someone he just met, especially. The Courier mulled over that thought, trying to figure out whether the Climatologist really didn't mind having him as company. She was just all smiles and bright eyes when she was walking alongside him. Mei did mention she had talked with Angela beforehand.
'Maybe that has something to do with it?' he thought, noticing as the sun had already set and it was starting to get dark around the base.
After a few moments of walking in the dim light, he just guffawed and shook his head side-to-side. Realizing the ridiculousness of trying to deconstruct someone just acting friendly to him. Wasn't fair to that person, either. Too bad a dose of suspicion helped save his life, before, like a prescription set on a schedule.
Then, as if it was haunting him like a specter, his stomach growled, and he felt the tinge of pain from being hungry. It was starting to get old. Clutching his stomach and realizing he literally did not eat anything for the entire day, he was now tasked with finding something to eat. Thankfully, a task of his own volition.
The mess hall was always busy in the nights as people with trays got their food and gathered at the tables scattered around the large space. Socializing and eating with co-workers and friends. Discussing anything, from missions, errands, holovids, or even their lives outside of Overwatch. It was a pleasant place to be with others.
Since the organization was still understaffed for several reasons, the cafeteria wasn't a five-star restaurant. Not that it ever was, but the quality could certainly use some improvement. It was enough, though, given what they had. Besides, one of the patrons wasn't exactly used to quality standards.
Nathan wandered into the mess just expecting to pick up some food, chow down, and get out, not wanting to stick around for long. As fate has it, he met up with the Cowboy who also had similar plans for the nights. Consequently, they ended up sharing a table. Didn't have anywhere else to go really. How they both ended getting stuck with each other, Brin wasn't quite sure.
"Let me get this straight," McCree said, with a cup of a fizzy beverage as he sat opposite of Nathan on one of the tables. "People still use lever-actions and single-action revolvers where you're from? Military, too?"
"Yup," the New Californian answered, taking a bite out of a circular, frosted pastry that had a hole in the middle for dessert. He liked it very much. "Don't you use that revolver, though?"
"Yeah, but she's a custom-made, double-action, hard-hitting magnum. Not a leftover from the Civil War. Don't get me wrong, I like the old Single Action Army's, but I wouldn't take 'em to a battlefield anytime soon."
"I can respect that, but some of the best fighters I know didn't mind using them or the lever actions. Hell, they probably excelled using them. Rangers, especially. Though, Rangers can make anything be lethal. Man, these 'donuts' are really good."
"Yup, didn't know they still served 'em at dinner time. I prefer the ones with the frosting and sprinkles. Not a big fan of the ones with crème in the center."
Nathan scarfed down another donut, the sprinkles crunching under his teeth as the frosting covered his tongue and sent a tinge of delight down his spine. It felt nice to munch down on a pastry that wasn't in packaging for over two-hundred years. Wasn't nearly as sweet, either. If there was one thing about this world he wouldn't complain about, it was the food.
"Speaking of antiques," the Waster said as he took a bite out a burger, an odd thing to combine with donuts. "What's with your get up? I've been to three cities in this world and I haven't seen anyone dress the way you have."
The Cowboy grinned with some pride as he took a bite out of a burger of his own. "What can I say? I'm one of a kind."
"Except I know plenty of people who've dressed like that, and you dress exactly like the main protagonist of a Western film… They're a thing here, right?"
"Wait, you have Westerns from where you're from?"
"They're over two-hundred years old, but yeah. I watched a few when I was a kid."
"…Huh…"
As McCree thought over the implication of another dimension having an identical genre of movies, as if that was the most concerning thing, Nathan reached to his back pocket and pulled out his pack of smokes. He had already gotten one stick into his mouth and was about to light it until the fellow smoker interrupted him.
"You can't do that here, partner," Jesse stated, straight-faced.
"What? Why not?" Brin questioned, a lit flame mere inches from the tip.
"Policy."
With his shooting hand, he pointed to behind Nathan. He turned around and saw on the wall was a placard with art on it that depicted a cigarette with a smoke cloud coming from the end. A red circle with a slash in the middle over it. If imagery wasn't enough, there were also black, bold words beneath it saying, "No Smoking" in all caps. It also said the same thing in a bunch of other languages, Spanish, German, and some others he couldn't recognize. As if the point wasn't clear, enough.
"Great," he lamented, casting the flame away and putting the smoke back into the pack.
Suddenly, something slapped him on the back and nearly knocked the pack from his hand. He didn't need to turn around as a boisterous voice sounded out.
"Ödländer, great to see you!" Reinhardt declared as he walked around the table and plopped himself down next to McCree with a tray of food in his large hands. "And you too, Jesse!"
"Howdy," the Cowboy greeted. "How are things, old-timer?"
"All is well, thank you for asking. I came here to see how things are with you both. Especially you, Brin."
Nathan looked up, one eyebrow raised as he regarded the Old German Giant. Trying to gauge why he said that.
"Is that so?" the Waster questioned.
"Ja. I heard about Oasis. How 'heated' things got near the end. You must give me the details of your mission. I am excited to hear about it!"
"Really? Wasn't exactly a smashing success. For starters, Hakim – the guy we were supposed to get – has a big hole in his chest now. Almost lost Dr. Ziegler, too."
"But you still saved her, no? You overcame your enemies and denied them from taking another one of own. I should thank you for saving our Doctor, if Angela hasn't done so, already."
"You're welcome… I guess?"
"Now, if you do not wish to speak of Oasis, do you've any other tales to share? A good story to share over a good meal? I hear it helps with the digestion."
The Courier had to hand it to the Crusader with how eager he was to listen to stories as if he was a couple of decades younger. He still wasn't why it had to be him he wanted to hear stories from so much. Probably had something to do with him being the 'Ödländer'. For a second, he did think about what he could tell him. Something in his experience that had action, peril, or glory that the older man seemed to crave for. That last one might be a bit hard to come up with, though, but the first two? Mojave was more than generous.
"I think I might have one," he stated, adjusting his seat and taking a sip from a can of root beer he was just introduced to, reminding him of fine sarsparilla. "Not sure if you would know, but radiation can have some rather adverse effects on the fauna. Make 'em dangerous, much more dangerous."
"Oh?" Reinhardt let out, listening attentively to every word. "What creatures inhabit your world, then? Are there 'dragons' that prey upon the people?"
The Tribal's head snapped to that word – Dragon – trying to remember what they were supposed to look like. Thinking back to some of those artistic books he looked at when he was younger. He smiled a tad as he instantly thought of something that matched the description.
"Well, now that you mention it, there is one mutant critter that bears some similarities."
Reinhardt's face lit up as he leaned in, eager to listen. Even McCree expressed some interest into what was coming next.
"They're larger, faster, and stronger than any man, have thick scaly hides that even hunting rounds like .45-70 will have trouble with, and long claws that they use to rip their prey to shreds. And I had to wipe out entire packs of 'em."
"Really? What were these monsters called?"
"Fittingly enough, and not very creatively, 'Deathclaws'."
