Winston's Lab, Watchpoint: Gibraltar

2076

The New Overwatch wasn't taking Doomfist's return particularly well.

They weren't pleased about hearing him break out of his cell sometime prior, and they weren't enthused when he had gotten his fist back and terrorized Numbani sometime later, but now – after engaging directly in combat with the Talon overseer and having their asses largely handed to them – they weren't happy.

Evident by how as soon as the agents abroad returned home, there was an impromptu meeting held within their pseudo-commander's office. Fareeha and Winston being there, of course, but Reinhardt, Torbjörn, Lena, and a few others of varying relevance also present. Ana and Jack were also there and at least one of them actively participated in the meeting. However, it quickly devolved into a heated debate as arguing on all sides erupted. Loud enough for it to be heard from the floor below.

Nathan could hear it, waiting and sitting at one of the holodesks below. He occasionally listened, overhearing some choice words and ideas being expressed in the discussion. Not really giving it his undivided attention as he was in the middle of a conversation of his own. One that was more pleasant as he told a story to Dr. Ziegler about a scar on his arm. The Doctor listening as she attended to newer wounds on his forearm, of course.

"Ah!" Nathan winced, sharp pain stinging through his forearm.

"Sorry!" Dr. Ziegler immediately apologized, going back to picking bits of metal out of his skin with specialized tweezers, her other gloved hand gently holding him still.

"It's alright, Doc. As I was saying," he went on with his story, the pain fading away as he got enamored with his own words as he recounted a tale long ago. "I was traveling along the road when I decided to rest for a while. Found a little camp spot a ways from the road. So, I set up my bedroll in one of the old tents, lay my pack to the side, and decided to sleep for the night. And as I was getting awfully close to dozing off, a goddamn Bark Scorpion skitters inside looking for food."

"A scorpion? This wound seems too big, though," the Swiss Doctor said, looking at a sizable circular blemish near his elbow.

"They were small, once, before they mutated and became bigger than Brigitte's cat."

"Ugh, I can't imagine being on the same planet as those things!"

"Imagine getting stung by one. One hell of a rude awakening."

"So, what happened next?"

"Nearly unloaded an entire mag into the damn thing with a 9mm. Thankfully, its venom gland was still intact, and I was quick to whip up some antivenom with what I had. Got some dinner out of it, too."

"You ate the scorpion?!"

"Uh… Yeah! They taste good if prepared right."

The blonde doctor grimaced in disgust but chuckled at the same time, raising the back of her gloved hand to her face. The Waster smiled, glad to see she wasn't completely revolted before dutifully attending to his wounds again. Slightly more carefully this time. Nathan paying attention to how focused she was as she picked out more fragments from his scarred forearm. Bearing through the pain, as minor as it was.

"I really have to start keeping track of these. Will make it easier to repay the debt I owe you," Nathan tasked himself, sighing.

"Debt?" Angela asked, already shaking her head. "Nathan, I'm certain we've had this conversation, before. You don't need to worry yourself about such things, okay? I'm a doctor. Making sure my patients are okay is enough for me."

"Yeah, but the lengths I've seen you go through and the shit you've put up with? I've been under you care more times than any other doctor, and that's saying something. It's a bit much, isn't it?"

"Oh, trust me. It's been like this for a long time and I doubt things will change anytime soon. Wouldn't have it any other way."

"Noted."

He watched her pick at his forearm more, observing and feeling tiny bits of metal get removed from his skin. The blood-covered pieces dropped into a tin container. However, her patient couldn't help but notice the discussion being held upstairs and the volume getting higher in some instances. No conversation about radscorpions to drown the noise out.

"Sounds like things are heating up…" he pointed out the obvious.

"Yes, it does," she concurred, not letting it distract her.

Even as she brushed it off to focus on tending to her patient, Nathan could see the hint of worry on her. That determined face a bit sullen as time went on. The medical professional did a good job of hiding it, though. He didn't like it, especially since this was something he easily could've done on his own. Yet, Dr. Ziegler wasted no time getting her tools and supplies the second he stepped off the dropship. He never had to ask for it, either.

"You know, if you want, you can go up and join them," Nathan suggested. "They might need a mediator. Someone to ensure things don't get too out of control. Especially the Amari's. They might need the 'good doctor'."

Angela could only close her eyes as she exhaled through her nose. Knowing that he meant well, even if it wasn't in his best interests to do so.

"Nathan…" Dr. Ziegler let out, casting her gaze up to earnestly look him in the eyes. "How many times must I remind you? I can only be a 'good doctor' if I make sure all my patients get the treatment they need, including you. Which means I am not going to stop until I am done, and I can ensure you have a clean bill of health."

"Well, I don't have a doctorate like you, but I can take care of the rest of this just fine. I've handled worse on my travels."

"I'm sure you have, but whether or not you have a medical degree is the least of my concerns. My concern is that I am the doctor and you are my patient; I am patching you up and making sure you stay that way. Nothing is going to change that, Nathan. Am I understood?"

"I'm just saying I-"

"Am I understood?" Dr. Angela Ziegler repeated, her voice much more assertive than the moment before.

Her sudden change in tone making the New Californian Waster look at the blonde Swiss Doctor in the eye. Not breaking eye-contact for the duration of the silence that ensued for a long moment.

"Yes, Dr. Ziegler," Nathan Brin simply nodded, regarding her blue eyes.

"Thank you, Nathan," Angela Ziegler responded, smiling to reassure him. "Besides," she says as she went back to the cuts on his arm. "If I went up there, I'm sure the bickering would only increase two-fold."

Her patient only smiled and nodded in understanding. His eyes veering down to his arm and watching her gloved hands take more pieces of metal out. Her hands as still as an Auto-Doc's. Inflicting a minimal amount of pain.

Eventually, as the meeting raged on, Genji walked down the stairs and spotted Nathan and Angela. The Doctor's back to him as she tended to the Waster.

"Good afternoon, Angela," the Cyborg greeted as he got to the bottom of the stairs.

"Hello, Genji," the Doctor greeted, looking over her shoulder. "Had enough of the 'meeting', have you?"

"Yes. Such things are more for my brother to withstand. Saddening to see everyone in such irritated spirits. Although, it's not hard to see why."

"Maybe you or Zenyatta should teach them how to meditate? I'm sure that can help set their minds at ease," she then suggested with a lighthearted smirk.

"Hah! That'll be the day I teach McCree to do such a thing."

Genji got closer to the table, besides Angela, and looked for himself what the doctor was conducting. Already aware who was responsible for the damage incurred.

"And what of you, Brin? How are you faring?" Genji asked.

"I really wanna get drunk, to be honest," Nathan admitted, leaning against the table as he watched his arm. "But I'm in good hands, Shimada."

"I agree. I can always count on Angela," the Cyborg Ninja expressed, placing a grateful hand on the Doctor's shoulders. The two exchanging cheery glances before he lifted his metal hand off.

Finally, after what seemed like ages of picking metal out of skin, Dr. Ziegler got the last piece and dropped it into the tin cup. Taking a sigh of relief as the hard part of the job was done. Without missing a beat, she began sterilizing the dozen tiny wounds and cuts before reaching for her staff to accelerate the healing process. After catching nothing but air in her fingers, she looked to see her staff nowhere to be seen beside her, then groaning as she realized she had forgotten it in her office.

"Ach, Gopfertammi! I'm sorry, I'll go get it," she apologized, removing her gloves and about to get off her chair until Nathan rose his left hand.

"Now hold on! You're already here and won't do any favors running there and back," her patient said, reaching to his pants and pulling something from it. "Here, use this, it'll be quick," he states as he holds out a Stimpak to her, the needle pointing away.

"Oh, Nathan, I can't. You-"

"I've got plenty. Just use it. It's quick, simple, and sanitary."

"Nathan… The casing's rusty!"

"Doesn't mean shit, trust me. Shimada can vouch."

Dr. Ziegler frowned as she reached over and grabbed the syringe by the vial. Examining it to see the pressure gauge's needle in the green and a red concoction seen through viewing pane. The needle for injection open to the air.

"Just jab it wherever and press the two buttons below the gauge until it hits the red. Chems should do the rest," the Wastelander explained, reorienting himself and his arm for her.

Casting a somewhat unsure glance towards the Pre-War syringe, Dr. Ziegler sat up and held Nathan's wrist with one hand and the Stimpak in the other. Hovering it inches above his skin, she inserts the hypodermic needle inside – where it was safe – and presses the buttons, resulting in a hiss emanating from it. The red contents being injected into him as the vial emptied. When it was done, she retracted the needle from his arm and watched as the dozen or so cuts and wounds began to heal before their eyes. All without the help of nanotechnology. Much of the skin closing as if there was no wound, but there were a few new scars.

"See? Simple as that." Nathan said as he lifted his arm and examined the skin.

"I'll stick with my staff for now," Angela admitted, albeit impressed. "Nanomachines aren't as scary as needles."

"Still works."

The meeting above had adjourned, and the attendants were walking down the stairs. Some of their faces wrinkled in anger or frustration, some still bickering amongst each other in hushed tones, and others unsure about what the meeting's subject would entail for the near future. The rest just relieved that it had ended.

Angela got up from her seat as they walked by, while Nathan sat there and watched them go. When Reinhardt, Torbjörn, Ana, and Jack walked by, she approached them and ask if they were all right, to which the men responded with varying forms of "yes". Ana, however, just told the younger woman to not worry and walked away with a quaint smile.

Fareeha was one of the last to file out of Winston's office, and Angela approached her just the same. They spoke to each other in Arabic, but Nathan didn't need to know any of the words to understand that Dr. Ziegler was trying to comfort her friend, possibly offering her to talk in her office. Fareeha smiling and nodding, most likely thanking her before walking away.

Meanwhile, Genji was conversing with Hanzo, who had also attended the meeting despite not being with Overwatch for long. He talked with his brother in Japanese, their conversation also unintelligible to the Wastelander. They spoke in a more hushed tone as if trying to be conspicuous about the subject while speaking in an entirely different language. The Archer never cracking a smile or anything other than a slight scowl throughout it. Genji probably the same. Only other thing Nathan could recognize in their conversation were several mentions of a "Doomfist-o". That was to be expected. Hanzo nodded to Genji and left, with purpose in his steps. Unbeknownst to the scowling Wastelander staring at him until he left.

Then, Winston and Lena appeared at the top of the stairs.

"We'll get him, big guy, I promise," Lena said to him.

"I know you will," Winston smiled at her. "And when we do, just… Promise me you'll be careful. Okay?"

"Of course, who do you think you're talking to?"

"Hmph."

"Oh, don't be like that. Come on, let's go to the pub! That'll cheer you up, won't it?"

"I've still got a lot of work to do, Tracer. Maybe later."

Her cheery demeanor frowned after her friend had declined, but she knew it was for the best.

"Have it your way. Oi, Genji!" Lena called out before blinking to ground level next to them. "Wanna nip on over to the pub?"

"Sure, the meeting has made me thirsty," Genji responded, then looking at Dr. Ziegler. "Would you care to join us, Angela?"

"You know what… Sure! Why not?" the Swiss woman happily accepted, putting away her supplies. "I definitely need a break after this day. I'm sure everyone does. What about you, Nathan? Do you want to come along? You mentioned wanting to get drunk earlier. Of course, I have to make sure you don't do anything bad if you do."

The Courier looked at her, not expecting to be a part of the conversation so casually. They waited on him for a response as he adjusted himself in his chair. Looking down at his freshly healed wrist.

"Actually, I take back my previous statement, then," Nathan said, sighing. "I just feel tired more than anything. Think I'll head to my quarters after this. Thanks for the offer, though, doctor."

"Suit yourself, mate," Lena said, then grabbing her friends. "Come on let's go!"

Somewhat in a hurry because of the pace the bubbly Brit was setting, Genji and Angela made their way towards the rocky cavern exit, together. However, the blonde turned and waved to Nathan. They left, leaving him and Winston in the lab. Nathan not really wanting to get up from the chair and just sit there for a while. Be alone with his own thoughts as he rested his head on his hands.

Winston stood at the top of the stairs, watching Nathan sit there and do not much anything else. Shutting his eyes as if he was on the verge of falling asleep. The genetically-modified Giant Gorilla spotting that someone was having a hard week. One of many, really. He walked down the stairs, thinking what old Commander Morrison would say at a moment like this as he cleared his throat.

"I know things recently have been difficult, Brin," Winston began, casting glances to see Nathan not moving. "They have been for a lot of people. Fareeha, Ana, Reinhardt, Lena, and Angela, just to name a few. But it's our job. And a lot of people are still counting on us, even if they don't know it. Take any rest you need, Brin. I'll inform you when there's a mission on the way."

"No."

Winston stopped, turning to see Nathan looking at him. A tested temper in his eyes.

"Uh-what?" he questioned, caught off-guard.

"You heard what I said," the Courier growled, lifting his head off his hands to reveal a snarl.

"Uhm… W-why-?"

"Why? Why?!" the Courier yelled, almost getting up from his seat. "You're the one who plans them, you should know! For the past couple of months, I've been thrown around this damn world, jumping from continent to continent – Europe, Africa, Asia, Australia! Every other mission I've been shot at, cut up, my ass nearly blown up, and recently had some bald asshole with a fist throw me around like a doll! Literally having a visit with poor Dr. Ziegler every. Other. Mission."

Nathan got up from his chair and began pacing back and forth. Running his hands through his hair as he was exasperated.

"And throughout this crazy-ass adventure I've found myself in, I do not feel any closer to finding my only ticket back home. Back to the Mojave I know!" he barked, pointing a thumb to himself. "If Overwatch is supposed to be this world-renowned organization that once held the world on its shoulder, helped the winds and oceans blow, then why the fuck haven't we found my Transportalponder?! It has a yellow back cap, a little antenna on top, a red cap over its trigger, and encases a cathode ray tube with blue sparks going off in it. How hard can it be to find, especially since these Talon fuckheads seem to have it?"

The Courier didn't bother facing Winston for that question as he didn't bother for an answer. Not even expecting one from his "commander" anyway. Blood rushing through his head, almost making him deaf. Only hearing and feeling his artificial heart thump in his chest. He still felt the frustration inside even after he let out that tirade. The release inadequate to do anything for him.

"At this point, I'm not sure if I even care anymore… I'm just tired," the old Wastelander confessed, breathing like he ran across the breadth of the Mojave. From Goodsprings to Vegas.

He stood there, expecting his "contract" to now be broken from that little rant and sent back to the prison cell for Overwatch to make sure he doesn't wander anywhere. To make sure he doesn't do anything rash. To make sure the violent, irritable, Waster wasn't up to anything. Waiting for the ape to respond.

"Okay," Winston calmly said.

Nathan turned on his heels at the ape.

"No more missions," Winston clarified, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "If you don't want to keep getting shot at, thrown around, or blown up… Fine. I understand. Any reasonable person who listened to what you said would. It's hard, I know, but I guess it was wrong of me to assume people can deal with their frustrations like me."

His gaze dropped to his hands, going deep into thought at the questions posed to him. What they meant for him.

"I'm… just surprised it took you this long to even say anything about it. Mission after mission, you came back in progressively worse conditions than the missions before. Yet, you kept accepting. I wasn't aware of the toll they took on you. I'm sorry."

Silence reigned in the lab, once more. Neither parties willing to say anything, but for different reasons.

"Tell him about the news, Winston," Athena joined, everywhere in the room.

"The what?" Nathan asked.

"Oh, yes! Of course," Winston went over to the same holodeck that Nathan was leaning against and pressed a few buttons, creating multiple holoscreens displaying still images of news broadcasts and articles. "You've been helping make some positive headlines recently! Err, well, depending on how you look at it."

Nathan looked at the bright screens, the holograms staring right at him. Big bold letters that made it easy to read. Many of them were just about the "New Overwatch", questions of who, why, where, and what. However, some headlines had a positive undertone to them, with words such as "save", "help", and "hope". Many images highlighting the agents of Overwatch, like Oxton, Winston, and Reinhardt, but for some of them, he was in the shot. The headlines riddled with the "Man in Black Armor". One holoimage caught his eye, spotting himself with his old duster still in good condition as it showed him fighting off the giant omnic in Numbani. Tracer, Lúcio, and even Orisa somewhere in the shot, as well. The headline catching his eye, next.

"Numbani Saved by the New Overwatch; the Man in Black Armor Seen Once Again."

'That is quite a mouthful,' Nathan Brin surmised to himself.

"Your efforts certainly haven't gone unnoticed here. And certainly not out there," Winston stated, coming around the table as he looked at the projection. "So, if you want to take an indefinite leave from missions… That's fine."

"What about my Transportalponder?" the Courier questioned further, those headlines meaning nothing to him.

The Gorilla's lips thinned, then he went back to the front of the table and pressed more buttons.

"Athena, can you please pull up all captured Talon documents, dating from the day we… met Nathan to now," he requested.

"Of course, Winston," Athena responded, an array of hologram screens appearing in front of them and drowning out the news headlines.

Dozens of documents, images, papers, emails, etc., being summoned at will and displayed to them. Nathan examining every single one. He noticed some of them were tagged with the names of places he recognizes, places they were taken from King's Row, Giza, and Oasis. Some other places, however, he didn't recognize. Their names forming the bulk of the list. Seeing they have been doing intel gathering of their own without him.

"Search for any references you can find regarding his device. Anything from the physical description he just described to its teleportation capabilities. Anything."

Without saying another word, the text on the holoscreens began to "move" and "scroll" in their windows, thousands of words going by faster than they could intelligibly read. Many of the documents only took a millisecond or two to be perused through, but others took much longer and didn't stop until a good minute had passed. Winston waited as Nathan stood there and watched the holoscreens, his eyes scrutinizing all the information he could take in. It all ended when the movement stopped and another holoscreen appeared displaying the number zero.

"No results found, Nathan. I'm sorry," Athena told him.

"And it's been like that everywhere we looked," Winston added as he pushed up his glasses. "Everywhere and anywhere we could send scouts and reconnaissance teams. Wherever Talon and their cohorts had a noticeable presence. Even Fareeha's men in Helix have been giving us some intel from time to time, as much as they could. But even with all of that we… Haven't made as much progress as we'd like."

The Scientist looked away at that moment to stare at the floor, again, sighing as the simple thought of the lack of progress they've made frustrates him. Nathan standing there and staring at the big, fat zero.

"Why?" the Courier questioned.

"You… you said it yourself," the Scientist stated. "You've been to four continents in this world, saw more things than most people would ever dream to see. You've seen how surprisingly big this planet of ours can be. Imagine trying to find something here, too. And if there's one thing Talon is good at doing, it's hiding like cowards."

The Gorilla glowered after that last sentence, feeling even more frustrated mentioning them for what seemed like the umpteenth time today. His head starting to hurt, a little. Nathan stood there looking at the holoscreens, silently thinking and knowing full well how hard it can be to find something in a place so big. Having been there many times, before. Other than that, the Wastelander felt… Unmoved. Not as disconcerted by the news as others in Overwatch would think. Not as much as he would've thought. Learning that didn't bother him all that much, given the circumstances. Maybe he was getting too used to living here.

Footsteps echoed across the door as someone walked in, unaware of the conversation that was held just a minute prior. Nathan immediately spotted him and watched through the holograms as the man walked up to Winston. The Courier became much more expressive as he couldn't believe who he laid his eyes on.

"Here are those papers you wanted, boss," the Talon Prisoner they captured from Oasis said to Winston as he handed him a pile of papers from a clipboard.

"Oh, uh, thank you," Winston said, brought out of his musings, and grabbing the papers.

"No problem."

The Prisoner turned away with a smile and was about to walk away to the exit, but he incidentally made eye-contact with the Courier, instantly seeing the large man glare daggers at him. His smile instantly disappeared when he recognized who it was, and nearly froze in shock. Faltering in his steps and standing there one second too long. Then, trying to save face, the Prisoner continued walking and kept his eyes on his feet. Staying like that the entire way until he walked out and was out of site.

"What the hell is he doing here?" the Courier wasted no time questioning.

"Hmm? Oh, him… Well, you see," Winston pushed up his glasses. "You know we don't have a lot of resources to spare given our current state, and it didn't make sense to keep him cooped up inside a cell doing… Nothing. So, we've-"

"Struck a deal with him."

"In the same vein, yes. Do some work for us in exchange for a place to stay. Granted, we're not letting him go outside of Gibraltar to do anything. We want to keep him close, of course."

"Why is he still here, though? Why not just throw him into the street? Make him someone else's problem?"

"Then we would not only endanger him but his family or anyone he is close to."

"You didn't seem to care for all those other Talon pricks we've offed."

"No, but he's a prisoner who surrendered to us. He became our responsibility by that point. And Talon has a habit of making sure that whoever works for them stays loyal to them. Through any means possible, even if it involves people not directly associated with Talon getting hurt. They might also consider him expendable by that point and won't bother with any alternatives besides killing him. We've seen it before. You've seen it before."

Nathan looked at Winston, then looking back to the doorway to see if he was still gone.

"He doesn't know anything about my Transportalponder?"

"That was one of the things we interrogated him about, among others. Didn't know much about that, unfortunately."

"And you believed the prisoner?" the Courier frowned.

"His name is Jose, and all the lie detector tests we conducted were negative, and some of the information he divulged to us has been used to our benefit in some way. It's been like this for a while, now. You're only just finding out?"

Nathan looked over his shoulder back at him, his face softening as he learned this had been occurring for some time, and he was unaware of it. Something that should've been easy for him to notice given the time he has been here. Granted, he never poked his head out much other than for what was needed to be done. Whether it was to eat, sleep, or drink. Maybe do an errand or two, maybe knock on Hana's door to keep the noise down. Never lingered around much, either. Always keeping to himself. How has he not noticed?

"So, we're not any closer to finding my Transportalponder," Nathan Brin recited.

"I'm afraid not," Winston lamented, not enthused about the news either. "And to make matters worse, it's a high priority among a list of high priorities. Trying to contribute time to each of them is maddening."

Holding the stack of papers given to him, Winston walks over and sets it down on a table. However, the ape grimaces and clenches his teeth as he brings a hand over to his chest. Clutching at the armor that covered him. Nathan noticed as his back was to him, the Gorilla then quickly recovering and taking in a quick breath.

"Winston, are you all right?" the base's AI asked, genuine concern in her voice.

"I'm fine, Athena," the mutant Gorilla grumbled, then turning around to Nathan. "So, as I said, we haven't made much progress towards finding your ride back home. I figured you would ask eventually. I'm sorry."

"Hmm," Nathan said, casting his gaze down to the table. His temper barely better than it was a few minutes earlier. "What are some of those other 'high priorities' then?" he asked.

"Oh, well, there are missions that need to be coordinated and executed, of course," the pseudo-commander began listing off. "But we also must worry about our supplies, upkeep and maintenance, making sure our digital infrastructure stays intact, and a whole assortment of chores on base alone. Why?"

"Well, if they're getting in the way of me getting back home…" Nathan Brin responded, almost catching himself about what he was going to say. Already realizing the implications given his rant just a couple minutes earlier. He wasn't going to stop, even if he yelled it. "Maybe."

"'Maybe'? I thought you wanted to be done with missions?"

"Not getting shot at, sure, but… Sitting around and not doing anything isn't preferable, either."

"I see. Well… Do whatever you wish," was all the ape could say at that moment.

Nathan then just stared at him, his face as disinterested as the first time he proposed the idea of him working for them in any capacity. Albeit, with much less fury in those eyes.

"Whatever," the old Waster responded, turning around to leave through the cavern door.

Winston watched him, frowning and thinking to himself for a second. Something on his mind that he felt should be said, something Nathan Brin should know at least.

"You know, some of the people we've recruited back have asked about you," Winston said, making Nathan Brin stop right as he was about to leave. "For some of them, it was one of the first questions they asked. They've all seen you on the holovids, wanting to know who you are, what you're doing here, where you came from. Asking if you've always been a part of Overwatch long before. Some of them sound quite impressed with what you've done out there. And others… Well…"

He hesitated with what he was going to say next, knowing the Courier well enough to know he is not the type of person to care about this. Even the type of person to outright dismiss it. It still seemed like something worth saying.

"…Others have asked if they could meet you. Of course, that's up to you. I thought I should let you know."

Nathan stood there, his back to the lab and his head slightly turned as if he was about to respond. He never did as he only stepped forward and left.

Things seemed quiet in the lab after he left, Winston standing there and staring at the entrance where he was. After some more brooding, he sighed and clicked all the holograms on the table away.

"I'm worried for him, Winston," Athena said, sounding unsure about his state.

"I know. I'm just surprised it took this long for him to have an outburst like that. I was certain it would be a lot sooner. And even if it did… He kept going on all those missions. He rarely ever said no."

"He seems rather driven, doesn't he? Never likes wasting time."

"I suppose. Well, the next time our team encounters Doomfist in the field, I'll be there. At least this reminds me we need to conduct another test. We're behind schedule."

The Scientist went over to a workbench, reaching down to a compartment at the bottom and pulling out a device that was hooked up to a series of batteries feeding a blue glow at its center. Heavily modified with an assortment of cables and wires running from it to an array of instruments that were scattered across the floor. The teleportation matrix looking very different from when they had taken it from Groom Lake.

"How much progress have you made unscrambling the telemetry from our 'first contact' with Brin?" the Scientist asked.

"0.000000000001321%, so far," his assistant stated.

"Getting closer, I suppose."


The streets of the oceanside city were peaceful and still somewhat busy given all the tourism to the area. Even then, the nightlife died down as the night progressed and the sky only got darker. Many people walking back to their homes or hotels.

Overwatch's Talon Prisoner, Jose, was one of the former as he walked along the streets carrying two large brown bags. A hefty payload that he spent much of the night trying to gather, given a list with a specific set of instructions he had to execute. Bringing back something of utmost importance that couldn't be overstated and was direly needed back at the base as soon as possible: Groceries.

After visiting the local markets and stores, the large brown bags he had were filled to the brim with vegetables, fruits, and a good amount of TV dinners. While supermarkets weren't the New Overwatch's main source of food, it was nice to get something local occasionally. It also helped to keep Jose in check, too, if the wristband that glowed blue on his arm wasn't enough. However, it wasn't particularly needed given he was obedient enough to even be sent outside the base without an escort. He was just happy he wasn't lying in some ditch with a gunshot wound in his head. Most likely what would've happened if he had gone back to Talon. New Overwatch didn't greet him with open arms, but they were gracious enough to let him stay for the time being and make himself useful until they decided to do something else with him. That was the best alternative, in his mind.

He went out at night to give himself as much cover as possible, taking the less traveled streets and alleyways to be the most inconspicuous he could be. And things had gone off without a hitch for the past couple of weeks he's been doing this, getting there and back to the Watchpoint easily.

Unfortunately, as he walked by an alley he's passed dozens of time before, he spotted the orange tip of a burning cigarette before a large fist slammed into his stomach and made him drop the groceries.

While the bananas and frozen dinners tumbled across the concrete, the attacker grabbed the Talon Prisoner by the neck and shoulders and threw him against the wall. The large man didn't give him any time to recover as he ran up and drove his knee into his stomach, making the Prisoner lurch forward before being knocked to the ground by a jab across his face. The assaulter wasted no time kicking his victim while he was down, crashing down his fists in-between. No regard for how loud the noise was. Not relenting even as his knuckles started to feel numb, or when there was a creeping pain on his right wrist. Only focused on beating the absolute shit out of the Prisoner.

Eventually, after bearing down on him for a good minute, the attacker stomped on him one final time and stopped. Standing back, having barely broken a sweat. Looking at the bloodied, curled-up man on the ground at his feet. Seeing tears stream down his cheeks as he heard him lightly sob.

"You're crying?" the Courier asked aloud. "Fuckin' pathetic."

He reached to his backside and pulled out his sidearm, racking the slide and making it echo across the alleyway. The prisoner sobbed, even more, covered in bruises. With little hesitation, he brought the muzzle to hover over his victim's head and placed his finger on the trigger. Barely feeling his knuckles numb as his fingers tightened around his grip and he felt his anger become hot in his chest. Leveling the sights right between the man's head, watching as he continued crying right as he was about to die. A goon that was only recently working for the very organization that's been out for the Courier's blood from the beginning. Out for everyone's blood from the beginning. This sniveling little shit still a part of the enemy as far as he was concerned.

Will never see his home again because of him.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

Nathan Brin jumped and looked to the outside of the alleyway to see Manuel staring at them, frozen still as he held a case of beers in one hand and an open bottle in the other. In that instance, all the rage the Waster felt dropped and he looked down to see Jose covered in bruises and his own blood. About to end his life. It was only now that he considered maybe this one wasn't worth the bullet, the noise, the explanation, and the punishment that would result from what he was about to do. About to alert the entire Rock to the decision he was about to make with a gunshot. Or maybe it was worth it.

Breathing heavily, he clutched his head and growled in frustration, before hurriedly holstering his firearm. But he wasn't done with Jose as he forcefully picked him up, making him groan more in pain.

"Listen to me you little shit!" he sneered, bearing his teeth mere inches from his face, bruised like a rotten tomato. Holding him a few inches off the ground. "You don't say anything about this to anyone, do you understand? Don't tell this to your boss, don't tell this to Amari, don't tell this to anyone! Understood?"

His victim could only gurgle in response.

"Remember; I'll be on you like a fly on shit!"

He threw him back down to the ground and watched him flop against the alleyway, still writhing in tremendous pain. Nathan looked to the street to see Manuel wasn't there anymore and ran out of the alleyway to find him. Then spotting him to his right, walking away with his beers. The Wastelander wasting no time running to him and catching up to him quickly.

"Hey, man, I-"

"What the fuck was that, dude?!" Manuel exclaimed, turning around quickly to regard the tall man. "What the fuck were you doing?!"

"I was teaching that little shit a lesson. Making sure he knew his goddamn place."

"By nearly beating the life out of him?! By holding a gun over his head, executioner-style?! What the hell!"

"He put us through a lot of trouble."

"Yeah, and now he's getting us peanut butter and bananas! This isn't like you, man."

The New Californian was taken aback by that statement. By how presumptuous it was.

"You don't know me."

"Yes, I do; Your name's 'Nathan' and you're from California – like me! And this isn't you! This isn't what we should be doing. This is what we should be better than."

Manuel, once a chill dude Nathan would occasionally see around Gibraltar or on the odd mission, was glaring at the large Wastelander straight in the eye. Only a foot between them. Not backing down in the slightest.

"You could've jeopardized this entire operation. You could've made things worse for a lot of people. Are you really willing to make that choice for everyone here?" Manuel questioned. "And what about the people you care about back home? In California? Aren't they still counting on you?!"

Brin looked at him, that mentions of California almost making his head feel light. Memories upon memories of home flooding back in seconds. All the while he was under the scrutinizing gaze of a fellow Californian.

"I don't know," the New Californian admitted, looking towards the Mediterranean Sea, towards the West. Watching moonlight bounce off it. "Just please don't…"

"I…I know what you're going to say," Manuel interrupted, taking a swig from his bottle. "You've been having a rough few days. Things have only been getting more stressful for you. It is for everyone. And I really shouldn't say this, but I'll keep quiet."

That only surprised Nathan more, his head beginning to feel lighter.

"You fucked up this time, but we still need you. They still need you. And you were very close to throwing it away. I don't know about you, but I know what that feels like."

"Do you?" the Courier asked, his hardened wasteland eyes earnestly looking him at the Californian in his face.

"Yes, but that's a story for another day. See you around, dude. Maybe…"

Manuel left, leaving Nathan to stand in the dark street alone. The Waster watching him go until he was out of sight for his old eyes, the cold ocean air making him shiver for once. Still shaken, Nathan took another drag from his cigarette and began to walk in the opposite direction of Manuel. Passing by the alleyway and seeing the Talon Prisoner still writhing on the ground.

As he walked away, he left a trail of smoke along the street, puffing away as he pleased. The vapor lingering even as he was already halfway down the street and turned a corner, out of sight. However, somewhere along the street and where the lights were not too well-lit, the smoke wafted around something that wasn't seen. The air shimmering a little as light passed through it, but barely noticeable at a time like this.

"Hmm…" this cloaked figure hummed, smiling as she stealthily made her way across the street and followed her "boyfriend".