Nathan's Room, Watchpoint: Gibraltar

2076

The large double-barreled shotgun closed with a meaty, metal sound when Nathan swung the weapon upwards and closed the action. Examining the Talon weapon he snagged for himself, the abnormally large shotgun able to fit in his large hands. Swiping his thumb over a lever and breaking the action open, again, the scent of gun oil and lubricant wafted up to his nose as he stared down the two chambers for the gun. However, he didn't see a light where the end of the muzzle should be but a series of conductors and wiring where the "shells" connect upon loading. The double-barreled actually an energy weapon, and the shells more like batteries. Wasn't the best-designed weapon he's come across as there were certainly better, less obsolete shotgun variants out there to modernize; Wondering why it was a double-barrel of all things they decided to use. Although given a few modifications, maybe sawing off a pound or two, he could see some potential in it becoming a viable addition to his arsenal. Especially something to replace his Ballistic Fist, which laid broken and mangled on his desk to the side. Beyond repair, unfortunately.

'Still better than being outside,' he thought, more content staying here and thinking about these things. Not too bothered to go anywhere.

As he wondered what would be needed to convert this weapon for his Wastelander needs, there was a knock on his door. His forehead wrinkled as he looked at the door. He wasn't expecting anyone, and he couldn't think why anyone would if he was. There were more knocks on his door, but he just stared at it and sat there as he cradled the shotgun in his hands. Looking down at its freshly cleaned and oiled parts, all the energy residue and discharge already wiped away. All his other guns were clean, as well.

Flicking his wrist, the two barrels swung up and slammed into the stock, locking it. He propped the weapon against the side of his desk as he got up. Opening the door, the first thing he saw was an auburn ponytail facing his direction before the one knocking spun around. Meeting him at eye-level, give or take a few inches.

"Nathan!" Brigitte said, smiling to greet him. "Hej!"

"Brigitte?" Nathan was surprised to see her at his door. "Uh… Hey."

"I'm not interrupting something, am I?"

"No, not really," he replied as he glanced back at the shotgun. "Why're you here?"

"I just came to ask if I could borrow Bastion for a bit?" she answered.

"May I ask what for?"

"Well, I've noticed his armor seems to be a bit degraded and I've come up with some new armor schematics that I'm sure could work well for him. Give him some good defenses, just in case."

That doesn't sound like a bad idea. Could help the big bot in case something did happen, even though he wasn't the most fragile. Also, since he was lacking in offensive capabilities. Although, despite it being a good idea, Nathan was still left a little confused by her presence here.

"That doesn't sound half-bad but… Why are you asking me?" he asked.

"Oh…? Well, it would make sense to ask you, first, wouldn't it? You are kind of Bastion's caretaker," she explained.

That title almost threw Nathan for a loop, making him lean against the doorway as he thought over what she just said. Trying to think if he really was Bastion's "caretaker" in any sense he could formulate.

"I think Dr. Zhou would more fit that description than I would," he states.

"Why not?"

"I dunno. He's with her more often than not, even when I'm around. Being her lab assistant and all. Good for him, but he's always not here. As you can clearly see."

"Ah, I guess I'll go look for Mei and ask if he's available. Why don't you come along, though? I could use someone to help translate what Bastion says. You two can catch up while I work on him."

Nathan looked at her funny when she offered that, seeing her willingly offer him tag along on a chore. Wondering why she continues doing that. Always surprised by her friendliness and how far it seems to persist. Surprised even more given who her father was. Maybe he was just overthinking it, again.

Alas, he thinks he would be more comfortable in his hole.

"I think I'm good," he says, but immediately thinks over what he meant the second after. "How are you holding up, by the way? Not hurting too bad?" Nathan then asked.

"I'm fine, nothing to worry about," Brigitte said, bringing a hand to her shoulder with the black gear tattoo and rubbing it gently as some of her skin was redder in complexion. "Reinhardt said I should cherish these bruises. Too bad I can't cherish anything besides how sore everything is. Not even going overtime at the gym hurts this much. But as they used to say, 'what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.'"

"Sorry, but that's usually bullshit most of the time, no matter what Wilhelm says. But you're still alive and kickin'. That's good to hear."

"Heh, thanks. I appreciate that. I'll go find Bastion and tell Reinhardt what you think of his philosophy. See you around!"

Nathan nodded, and Brigitte walked away down the hall. His eyes followed her for a moment until he stepped back inside to close the door. However, he stopped a quarter of the way from closing it and peered his head back into the hallway and spotted Brigitte still in view from his room. Seeing her on her way to do something, to make herself useful. He brought his head back in to take another look at his largely barren room, his eyes shifting to the shotgun that was propped up against his desk. Recalling how he would need to modify it for his needs and purposes. Maybe Brigitte could help him with that after he helps her.

Stepping through his door and closing it behind him, he begins jogging up to the Mechanic.

"Hey, Brigitte, wait up!"


The peerless Head-Engineer of Overwatch waddled through the base on his way to the workshop, having done his daily chores of maintenance around the Watchpoint. Hoisting a box of tools in one arm and a mechanical claw as the other arm. Surprisingly, the day ran rather smoothly when he went about his daily routine, well, as smoothly as an engineer could hope to maintain this place. Torbjörn thought he might have some free time for his own intellectual – and mechanical - pursuits before he turned a corner into the workshop and instantly spotted Bastion. The large omnic sitting pretty in the middle of the floor while a figure clad in safety equipment welded pieces of armor plating to the machine with a variety of tools. His eye shifting between the armor and the welder's mask, who was tall enough to be hunched over the omnic's square shoulder.

At a distance, the armor plating didn't look too bad, the Engineer finding himself silently intrigued as he walked into the workshop. Maybe it was about time someone got to upgrading that old robot, so it could be more useful around here. He sure as hell wasn't going to do it, nor had any compunction to.

Bastion acknowledged Torbjörn's presence when he got closer.

"Brin, if you're going to give your buddy an upgrade, make sure to clean up after you're done," the Head-Engineer made sure to remind him. "And put the tools back, too! I just spent an afternoon rearranging everything because someone decided to-"

"Hmm?" the welder stopped welding, pulling her earbuds out and flipping the mask up to reveal it was Brigitte grafting armor plates to Bastion. "Oh. Hey, Pappa!"

"Brigitte!" her father exclaimed. "What are you doing?"

"I'm giving Bastion an upgrade. Don't you think he's overdue for a hardware update?"

"Well, I can clearly see that, but why?"

"Why not? Things have been becoming hectic for the past couple of weeks. It would only make sense to make sure all of us are prepared. Even Bastion."

She smiled and patted the machine on the metal shoulder, making him rotate to her and beep. However, Torbjörn frowned upon seeing his daughter go out of her way to do such things. Taking the equipment and resources and using them to make something of her own. Taking the initiative and not just bolstering their defenses but creating defenses. Giving an old model of robot some shiny new armor.

'Explains all those long nights in the workshop…' her father surmised. "Let me guess, did Brin bring forth the idea of armoring up the E54 to you, first? Ask you to do him one favor while he'll return it one day?"

"The opposite, actually," Nathan explained for her as he appeared at the doorway, a long bag of equipment and a cooler dangling from his left hand while hoisting a storage crate larger than the dwarf over his right shoulder. He readjusted his grip over the load and walked past Torbjörn to a corner of the room, close to Brigitte. "Your daughter came to me to ask if she could upgrade Bastion. Afterward, we went to Dr. Zhou to get Bastion. Then we came here."

He punctuated his response by setting down the things he carried, resulting in a hearty thud. After, he flipped the cooler open to let chilled air spill out as he reached in and retrieved two ice-cold bottles of "Nano Cola". He gave one to Brigitte while taking one for himself.

"Thanks," she said, turning the welder off and twisting the cap off the soda.

Nathan nodded before he twisted the cap off his bottle and put the tiny piece of metal into his pocket. Taking a sip afterward but frowning when the taste of the cola hit his tongue. Not quite tasting like cola, especially considering the liquid was green. He was more of a root beer fella, anyway.

'What I would give for a sip of sarsaparilla,' he lamented, scrutinizing the green bottle.

"Cree Bwee?" Bastion blurted out, looking at Nathan's pocket.

"What?" he asked.

"Cree Boo?"

The Waster looked down at his pocket and retrieved the bottlecap he just put inside a couple seconds earlier. Confused until he realized what he just did in front of them.

"Oh, right. It's a habit," the Courier explained.

"A habit? For what?" Brigitte asked.

"I'll explain, later," Nathan promised, putting the cap back into his pocket. "Right now, Bastion's got a makeover we gotta give him."

Suddenly, there was a burst of laughter at his feet and he craned his neck downwards to see Brigitte's father having a hearty, overbearing guffaw for someone his size. Bastion also craned his neck down at him, wondering what all that was about.

"What is it?" Nathan asked, his mouth curled into a slight snarl as he narrowed his eyes at Torbjörn. Brigitte noticing his expression and wondering if she had to intervene so soon.

The Swedish Dwarf kept laughing, a hand over his belly until he slapped his knee.

"You guys won't so much as give the robot a pedicure with what you're doing!" the Head-Engineer exclaimed, walking forward and brushing past Nathan's long legs.

"What?"

"What I'm saying is that your technique is sloppy, and you won't get much done improving anything with what you're currently doing," he elaborated, going to a corner of the room and retrieving a step ladder, then going over to where Brigitte stood beside Bastion and placing it there. After he climbed and reached the topmost step, which brought him about eye-level with the shoulder, he held out his right hand to his daughter. "Welding tool, please."

Brigitte rolled her eyes and let out a groan. Taking a quick swig from her cola.

"I knew what I was doing, you know," she said, before lazily grabbing the welding tool and handing it to her father. "Had the blueprints, processes, and steps laid out and everything. Don't mess anything up."

"I know you would, but someone's still got to teach you kids how it's done," her father responded, flipping his welding mask over his face.

"Kids?" Nathan questioned the use of that word in the plural sense.

"Yes, and would you kindly give me a light?"

Brigitte and Nathan exchanged glances with each other, the former just playfully shrugging while the latter frowned, as he always did.

Nonetheless, they began assisting the dwarf with the job. Or, he began assisting them.

The younger Lindholm silently happy that they could have a third professional opinion about her work, and Nathan was glad that he didn't have to haul all the heavy stuff by himself anymore. The three get to work on upgrading Bastion, things still moving like clockwork. Brigitte and Torbjörn largely discussing the armoring process amongst themselves, while Nathan watched and did most of the heavy lifting. Although, he did pay attention to what the Lindholms were discussing and followed along.

They spent the next hour or so grafting Brigitte's prototype armor to the old omnic. Piece after piece, plate after plate, being drilled, welded, and locked into place over strategic parts of Bastion's upper-body. Even replacing some of his original armor plating, but Brigitte assured Nathan that he would be fine. Torbjörn occasionally pausing to listen to their exchange before going back to work. Finally, with one more piece of armor latching onto the central hood of Bastion's chassis, the tools turned off. Standing back and setting her tools aside, Brigitte flipped her helmet up and looked at Bastion.

Most of the green and beige armor plates on his upper-body were replaced by pieces of an earthier-complexion of green. Aside from the paint, the armor was more angular and smooth, not as many straight edges or corners as his armor before. The armor wrapping around his frame rather than folding over it like pieces of cardboard. The most blocky and square shaped part of his upper-body was his head, unchanged from the entire process.

"Reeooo?" he inspected what was done to him.

"Alright, good so far. Come on, Bastion, let's see if you can walk around with it," Brigitte said, moving stuff aside to give him room. "Nice and easy, now."

His block head swiveled up to her for a moment before he nodded. Slowly, and with the help of his one good arm, Bastion stood himself up and towered over everyone else in the room. Swiveling his upper-body a few times, spinning it around for good measure, Bastion looked ahead and rose one foot up to take a step forward. It immediately resulted in his foot falling faster than it should've and him losing traction.

"Dweet!" he screamed as he made the room shake upon falling flat onto his square face.

Brigitte jumped, going wide-eyed the second he was on the floor and scrambling to help him up. Nathan expressed some surprise, walking over to see if the damage was bad. And Torbjörn stood on his step ladder and looked at them, crossing his arms.

"I guess it's a bit front-heavy, then," the Head-Engineer indubitably deduced.

"Clearly," his daughter glanced daggers at him, trying to help Bastion get back up. "I made the measurements. Surely, this shouldn't be a problem for you."

"Virr," Bastion detested, his head turning 180⁰ to look at her.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry. Just hold on a bit."

As the Lindholms started to banter with each other over the craftsmanship of their work, Nathan took a closer look at his "improvements". Despite being refined and smooth, they were still big and meaty pieces of armor. Nathan already knowing how heavy they were since he had to carry the damn things. Without a doubt, they would provide Bastion the protection he needed, but at the cost of being mobile. Too heavy, even for him.

"You should've accounted for putting multiple plates on him. That's probably what you need to look into," Torbjörn instructed, tapping his knuckle into one of the plates.

"Back to the drawing board, I guess," Brigitte responded, a bit tired but deflated.

"If weight's a problem, why not use ceramics?" Nathan suddenly blurted out, scrutinizing the armor.

Both the Lindholms snapped their eyes to him. "What?"

"The use of a ceramic composite, maybe even some ceramic and metal mixed together, could eliminate the weight problem while still providing some optimal protection."

Brigitte blinked, not expecting him to come up with that answer.

"It could even give us the chance to make the armor bigger, bulkier, and more protective, surface area-wise," Torbjörn then added, stroking his beard. "More leeway with the weight, too…"

"That's what I said," Nathan stated.

Brigitte was surprised, seeing her father ponder after being told an idea from someone else. Certain he was going to find some way to disregard his suggestion, but she watched her father keep thinking. It got her thinking, too, wondering if Nathan could be free to help her with more projects sometime in the future.

"I dunno, just my two cents from my own experience," Brin said, shrugging.

"I'll look into it. Thanks for the idea," Brigitte expressed. "But now, I got something else in store for Bastion. Don't worry, you'll like it."

"…Weer?"

The next hour was then spent getting Bastion up and reversing everything they just did, giving him back his old armor for the time being. Maybe a bit quicker now that they knew which bolts and screws to twist and which plates to lock at this point, Brigitte and Nathan doing much of the work as Torbjörn stood by the side. After everything was done, Brigitte pointed to the crate one more time and asked him to retrieve one last thing. Going over to it and flipping it open to spot that one thing: an all-black, metallic arm that was longer than his leg. Ending with a right hand that complimented Bastion's left hand.

He picked it up, using both of his arms, and Bastion lit up when he saw it.

"Waaaa! Gee goo chirr veerumpoo?"

"He asks, 'Where did you find this?'" Nathan translated as he lugged the limb over.

"Found it when I was traveling with Reinhardt," Brigitte answered, walking over to him and helping carry the large arm to a set of chains and cables that hung from the ceiling, next to Bastion. "It was in good shape, too! I knew I could do something with it. Just… I didn't expect it to be this."

Lifting and setting the arm into the chains, Brigitte pulled up a holopad and began inputting controls that made the chains lift the arm over to him. After stopping a few centimeters from the exposed limb socket, Brigitte, with some help from Nathan, guided the arm into the rest of his body and resulted in a hearty kerchunk! Next, she pulled out a drill and tightened a few nuts around his shoulder, then grabbing an oil can and lubricating around the joints. Only taking a few more seconds until they were done.

They stepped back, standing in front of Bastion with his new arm. Obviously, it stood out, being entirely black and not having as much armor plating as the other arm. Looking like a noodle in comparison to the rest of his limbs. However, what counted most was that it was still functional.

"Go ahead, Bastion. Try it!"

The omnic regarded her a second time before he looked down at his new arm, humming as he did so. Then, slowly, he brought the palm of his new hand up to his face. His fingers contracting and expanding robotically, executing some more movements with it. Bending his elbow, rotating the entire arm around his socket, and twisting his wrist all the way. It worked, and Bastion couldn't be happier.

Brigitte smiled, but that quickly morphed into shock as she was scooped up into the large war-bot's arms and felt herself get crushed in a very enthusiastic embrace. The omnic booping a million expressions of gratitude to her.

"He says, 'thanks'," Nathan explained.

"Good… To… Hear!" Brigitte tried to smile but grimaced.

"Alright, Bastion, I think that's enouaaahhh!"

The tall man was also scooped up into the embrace, Bastion now having two arms. Holding both Brigitte and Nathan very close to his central chassis, their feet dangling helplessly into the air.

"Woo, wow!" Bastion elated, wanting to relish in the moment longer until he put them back on their feet. The two humans instantly catching their breaths upon their freedom.

"Oh, you have two arms, now? Congratulations…" Torbjörn muttered, shaking his head. "Now you can do twice the things!"

The omnic then rotated his upper-body to face Torbjörn, who was behind. When he saw Bastion do that and take a step forward, the indifference faded from his face. Almost scrambling off the step ladder he stood on and falling to the ground.

"Wait, what are you…?! Don't!" he tried to plead but it was too late as the metal hands scooped him up in their clutches. His face pressed up against his chassis, now.

"Weerooo!" Bastion cheered, not letting go.

"Let go of me! I did not consent to this! I designed you, I command you to stop!"

The dwarf engineer fidgeted and squirmed all he could, but the omnic wouldn't let go. This went on long enough for him to tire himself out, not shaking as violently. Defeated, Torbjörn groaned and went limp in Bastion's arms, accepting his fate like a Tiger caught in Lena's arms. Brigitte softly laughing as she took out her phone and began taking pictures. Then, showing those pictures to Nathan.

"We weren't able to get everything to work, but today wasn't a bad start!" the young Mechanic admitted, sticking to the silver-lining. "A job well-done."

After she said that, Bastion finally let go of his victim and Torbjörn fell to the floor, making some of the nearby tools shake. He slowly got to his feet, groaning all the while. Glaring daggers at the large robot when he did.

"Do that again and I'll send you to the slag heap!" he threatened, hitting him rather hard with his hammer, which didn't bother the machine at all. Then, after taking just one step, he sighed heavily and leaned onto his knees. Exhausted from the amount of affection he just received.

"And a job well-done calls for a visit to the pub," Brigitte said, taking off the protective gear and freeing her hair from the welding mask. Her father's ears perked when she mentioned the pub, looking up at her and no longer gasping for air.

"Now that I can get behind," he admitted.

"Let's not waste time, then!"

She gestured for them to follow and they made their way to the workshop exit together. However, Brigitte stopped before stepping outside and looked over her shoulder to see Nathan was still in the workshop, putting away equipment and materials they were using.

"Hey, aren't you coming?" she asked, making the Waster look up from his work.

"Oh, me?" he asked.

"Yeah, of course! We all worked hard, might as well play hard. Come on, drinks are on me!"

"Oh, now you're being asinine Brigitte!" her father exclaimed. "Drinks are on you?! Please…"

His daughter cast an annoyed look to him.

"It'll be fun unless you have something else you need to do?" she asked Nathan, who regarded her for a couple of moments before dropping the wrench he held into a box

"Sure, I need a drink," he finally accepted, patting his hands clean.


For being a small bar within a relatively small military base not at full capacity, it had become very lively by the time the Lindholms, Nathan, and Bastion had arrived. Thankfully, they found a table to occupy. The humans all taking seats around the roundtable while Bastion folded his legs up and became a cube from the waist down as he "sat" close to Nathan, looking around the establishment.

Eventually, a training bot retrofitted with a platter floated to the table, bringing three large mugs of a golden substance with a thick layer of foam at the rim. The mug hefty enough to still look sizeable in Nathan's hand. A very tantalizing sight that he couldn't wait to drink. Glad that accepting the invitation paid off. Everyone quickly settling in for a night of drinking.

"Skål!" Brigitte exclaimed, holding her mug up high in the air.

"Skål!" her father repeated, holding up her glass to hers.

"Prosit," the Wastelander finished, clinking his glass up to theirs before they all pulled back and began to drink out of their mugs.

Bastion watching the interaction with a tilt of his rectangular head.

Brigitte had her eyes closed as she poured the contents of her glass into her mouth, drinking in beer for a good ten seconds before letting it down to breath. "Ahhh!" she let out, already feeling refreshed from her glass. Around a quarter of it gone.

"What language was that, Nathan?" the auburn-headed Swede asked as she wiped foam away from her lips, but her eyebrows perked when she saw him still drinking his beer – chugging in large amounts with every gulp – his mug becoming emptier by the second.

He wasn't the only one with a voracious thirst, as her father was also chugging large quantities with every gulp, but he was only able to drink about 3/4ths of beverage before having to stop for air, wiping his beard dry. Meanwhile, Nathan kept chugging, finishing just a few seconds later. His mug polished of beer.

"That was good," was all the Waster could say as he bumped his chest, resulting in a hearty burp into his fist. "'Scuse me."

Brigitte was slightly impressed.

"Looks like he can drink faster than you, Pappa," she teased.

"Don't care. Got some cold beer in my belly after a day of work. No better feeling than that," the Engineer said, leaning back into his chair and patting the sides of his gut. "Although, wish we had some of your mother's cooking with us. Now that would be perfect!"

"Ohhh, I could really go for some semlor, right now!" Brigitte confessed, trying not to drool on the table at the thought of some desert.

As the Swedes were reminiscing about home cooking, Nathan went and got himself another mug from a waiting training bot.

This time he was slow with it, taking hearty sips of the drink to taste it. This beer had a crisp, almost clean flavor to it. The foam and bubbles tickling his tongue as he could taste the grain. It wasn't particularly strong, but he was more than willing to keep drinking. Definitely not going to stop at just two mugs. Whatever amount was needed to keep this up.

Still, he wasn't completely detached from the conversation, yet. "What's semlor?" he asks. Unknowingly making Brigitte's – and to some extent, her father's – eyes light up the second he asked that.

And so, they drank. Swapping dialogue as they ingested more beer. Brigitte more than eager to tell the Waster about Swedish cuisine, mainly the pastries, with the occasional correction or addition to the discussion from her father, who also seems engrossed in the topic. The two of them often mentioning Ingrid – her mother and his wife. There were small moments where they spoke to each other in their native tongue, short bursts of laughter sprinkled amongst them. Brigitte going on and telling Nathan more about the pastries her mother would make. He seldom spoke while she did, only addressing her and taking an occasional sip, or gulp, of his beer. He paid attention, though, finding much of what she talked about appetizing. Bastion as well, apparently, having barely moved his head or his body.

"You really like sweets, don't you?" Nathan asked, noticing the way she talked about her mother's cooking, mainly the food with cream and sugar.

"Obvious, isn't it?" she smiled.

"I'm just surprised given your physique. Would seem hard to maintain with a sugar tooth like yours."

"Having someone like Reinhardt as my godfather helps. A lot of 'tricks of the trade', as he would say."

Torbjörn cleared his throat rather loudly into his fist, making Brigitte turn her head to the noise.

"Yes, you helped a lot, too, papa," she assured her father, patting him on the shoulder.

"I did more than help! I channeled my inner Yoda and made you my Luke; Bohusleden our Dagobah!" he proudly boasted, the beer probably giving him a proper buzz, now.

"Oh my god…" Brigitte started blushing, further bolstering her father's pride.

While there were a lot of words that didn't make sense to the Waster, Nathan was most surprised by her "relation" to Reinhardt.

"Reinhardt's your godfather?" he asks, genuinely astonished. "How did that happen?"

Brigitte stared at him for a couple of moments before turning to her father, again. Torbjörn and sighing as he took another drink from his beer, using his metal hand.

"It's quite a long story, one that Reinhardt likes to remind me of… A lot," the Swedish Engineer explained.

"Speaking of Reinhardt…" the Mechanic said, jerking her head to the entrance of the bar, spotting the large German's frame pop in through the doorway. Walking towards their table. Some of the other patrons around the bar greeting him as he walked by.

"Ah, you have started drinking without me?!" he exclaimed, holding out his arms in faux surprise and hurt. "How could you?!"

"You're late!" his goddaughter responded, smiling warmly but frowning when she noticed he was alone. "Where's Fareeha?"

"She had business to deal with in Winston's office. Not sure how long it will take, but hopefully, not long."

Reinhardt grabbed a free chair and sat between his goddaughter and his old friend, both giving him an ample amount of space to fit at the table. Easily taking up a quarter of it.

After getting seated, he turned around and snagged himself a drink from the robot waiter into his large hand, not wasting time as he brought the brim to his mouth. He took it slow, however, his eyes closed as he gently drank and savored the taste rather than ingesting as much as he could under a few seconds. But even then, half of the drink was gone when he set the mug down, letting out a refreshed sigh.

"So, what stories have we swapped at the table in my absence?" he asked, leaning into the table as he addressed everyone with his bad and good eye. "Anything good? Or should I provide the narrative this time?"

"I'd prefer listening to something we haven't heard before," Brigitte responded, wincing at the thought of listening to another one of his spiels.

"They are timeless classics! Who wouldn't want to listen to such grandiose and suspense?"

"Because you're the only one who calls them 'classics'."

"If it's novelty you're after, I'm sure Nathan might have something for you!"

The mentioned man glanced from his drink and saw everyone looking at him, Reinhardt ever eager, Brigitte ever curious, and Torbjörn ever skeptical. Nathan unamusingly perked an eyebrow, before looking to the side and noticing that Bastion was looking at him as well. His expression not as easy to read.

"Okay, first, thanks for putting me on the spot," Nathan frowned as he adjusted himself in his chair, looking around them and seeing all the people that were in their close vicinity. "And second, there's a lot more people here and closer than in the mess. You won't even hear anything if I speak quieter than my inside voice."

"Ach, don't mind them," Reinhardt dismissed. "Everything is loud and boisterous in this room, with ample amounts of alcohol thrown into the mix. Even tales as good as yours may go unnoticed by anyone not listening."

That was a sound argument, but as if to prove him wrong, the table was approached by one of the waiters who went to Nathan's side and placed a shot-glass right before him. He looked up at the bot in confusion.

"Umm… I didn't order this."

"The patrons at the booth there ordered it for you," the bot explained, pointing to a booth just a few meters from where they were. Nathan turning around to look at them and seeing an entire squad occupying the booth. When he turned, they all smiled and waved to him, one of them holding up a shot glass to him. The recipient narrowed his eyes before grabbing the shot-glass and holding it up to them, to be polite. He turned away from them and back to the table, his tablemates not expecting that.

"Why?"

"To thank you for your work out there in the field," the bot answered.

"Ah… Tell 'em I said 'thanks', then."

The waiter floated away, leaving the table alone, again.

"Sure they won't notice, now?" the Wastelander snarked, then looking at the drink and throwing his head back in one swift gulp. Flipping the glass upside down and planting it on the table top. "Won't say no to a free drink, though."

"Point taken," Reinhardt Wilhelm relented. "Although, I am sure there are less sensitive subjects you can tell us about. Maybe not as daring or exhilarating, but interesting nonetheless."

"Yeah, like what?"

"What about the food you have back home?" Brigitte almost immediately asked.

"What?" wondering why she would want to know about that.

"I mean, you seem pretty interested when I talked about Swedish Pastries, I kind of wondered what food is like back home for you."

After she said that, Nathan leaned back in his chair and began to ponder about food. While he enjoyed practically all of what's he eaten here so far, he did miss some of the home cuisines. Quite intimate with wasteland cooking, otherwise he wouldn't have survived this long without knowing a damn about it. Recalling his mother being very adamant about that life skill when she taught him, among many others.

"I can't really tell you about any pastries, at least, ones not in centuries-old packaging, but maybe I can talk about ones you can stomach," the Wastelander said, relaxing into his chair.

However, his attention quickly got diverted when his eyes wandered and landed on a large piece of hardware with an arch shape. Its rim a faded color of what should be a rainbow, and its central hull a menagerie of old speakers and wooden paneling. Above its midsection, there was a glass panel that displayed it insides accompanied by a set of controls consisting of actual buttons below it. A significant lack of touchscreen on this piece of musical hardware.

"Is that… A jukebox?"

"A what?" Brigitte asked.

"He's talking about the big thing back there, sweetie," Torbjörn explained, pointing his thumb behind him.

"What does it do?"

"It plays music," Nathan was quick to answer, astounded that she even asked that question. "Wait, do you not know what a jukebox is?"

"No, this is my first hearing about it. You know what it is?"

"Of course, they're everywhere, back home."

"Wait, really?" Torbjörn then piped in upon hearing that. "Why?"

"People like music is my guess. Not too hard to salvage or fix up. Why isn't that one working?"

"Winston and Lena found it in storage and thought it would be a bright idea to move it into the bar for 'the atmosphere'. However, only then did they realize it was broken, and haven't been able to get it working since. They even asked me if I could help, but I've got other things to worry about than just some old relic from the 20th-Century. Still uses Compact Discs, for crying aloud!"

Nathan shifted his eyes to the jukebox, seeing it do nothing but collect dust. Shame, as it would've been nice to have some music to accompany the chatter of the bar.

"I'll go take a look at it, then," the Waster said, getting up from his chair.

"Hmph, good luck with that!" the Engineer laughed, taking another drink from his mug.

The table watched Nathan go to the old jukebox and already getting to work examining it. Torbjörn had his arm over the back of his chair as he watched him work with the old machine, some dust shaking off as he moved it to look at its back. Then, crouching down to get a better view of.

"How much you willing to bet he's never getting that thing fixed," Torbjörn chuckled, turning back to the table.

"Pappa!" his daughter quickly scolded. "Have some faith! You don't know that."

"50 E€," Reinhardt replied, earning a scowl from his goddaughter. "What?"

Torbjörn then laughed, confident that he just earned himself some easy money while he finished off the rest of his beer. Unfortunately for him, he almost spilled his drink when he heard the music begin to blast from behind and quickly spun around to see Nathan was already finished. The jukebox now on, the rainbow pattern of its outer shell glowing, movement of the internal mechanism being seen from the little window. The bar becoming quieter for a moment as the patrons turned their heads at the sudden noise, before realizing the music was coming from the weird box in the corner of the establishment.

Nathan certainly didn't expect the sudden outburst, especially being right up against the speaker. The song that was playing opened with a single, suppressed electric guitar playing a few repetitive notes before a male voice accompanied by fast drums joined in.

"I'm coming out of my cage / and I've been doing just fine /
Gotta, gotta be down / Because I want it all /
It started out with a kiss, / how did it end up like this? /
It was only a kiss, / it was only a kiss!"

And then, the vocals and instruments became clear, the drums now making use of cymbals. The guitars and bass maintained their rhythms, and the voice began going off. Nathan noticing the vocabulary and words being thrown about by this singer, never quite hearing a song like this. Vaguely sounding like rock, but not quite. Just glad it wasn't electronic noise.

Leaning into the window, he looked at the disk that was playing. Looking like a smaller, more "compact" record, the graphic cover was scratched off and faded from decades of use and disuse, not even able to read the name of the song or the artist. A wonder that the disc could still be read.

He found what was playing interesting, paying attention to what the lyrics were saying. Having some difficulty with all the noise in the song, but he could follow along. Didn't sound like the brightest subject to sing about, but he liked Marty Robbins. Nathan then earned a few cheers and claps from the other patrons, applauding him for his good work and livening the establishment.

"Hmm," he muttered, walking away from the jukebox back to the table.

Spotting the others looking at him, dumbfounded.

"That was… Quick," Torbjörn noted, switching back and forth between the Waster and the jukebox. "How did you do it?"

"There were just a few loose parts and wires. Wasn't too dissimilar from jukeboxes back home," Nathan explained.

"Interesting song choice," Brigitte said, bobbing her head a little as listened. "I think I've heard Lena listen to this, before. She said it's a 'classic'."

"This sounds like the type of music my parents would've listened to," Reinhardt added.

Nathan sat down, quickly taking a sip from his glass.

"I didn't recognize any of the songs that were in that thing, so I just chose whatever," he said. "Doesn't sound like anything I would usually listen to, but anything better than that electronic shit."

Brigitte smiled before she lifted her wrist up and looked at the holographic display she summoned. Looking at the time.

"Fareeha's still not here," she lamented. "Are you sure it's not anything serious, Reinhardt?"

"I hope not, but I'm not entirely sure. It may have something to do with an upcoming mission," he answered.

"That's a shame, I knew she would've loved to hear this music. Especially from something so retro."

When she mentioned that, Nathan looked at her and was surprised with what he just heard.

'Amari likes this?' he thought to himself, looking at the jukebox.

She's always been that professional, but still, that seems like something he would've picked up. Wondering what else she even liked when she is not in power armor. He hasn't even spoken with her since Numbani. If there's anyone that deserves a break, it may as well be her.

"Excuse me," Nathan said, getting up from his chair unexpectedly. "Gotta head to the restroom. I'll be back." He walked away from the table, but only got a few steps away from it before he spun around and accusingly pointed a finger at them. "Don't take a sip from my glass!"

Brigitte and Reinhardt jestingly chuckled and waved at him as he left, Nathan soon out of sight when he went through the door. However, as they began to chat, again, Brigitte noticed in the corner of her eye that Nathan's current mug was gone from where he sat. It didn't take long to find it when she looked up to see Bastion holding the mug with his mechanical hand up to his head. His blue eye scanning the beverage in the glass, where there wasn't much left inside. With one last whir, Bastion flipped the glass towards him 90⁰ and splashed the contents onto his faceplate, dousing the metal. The remaining humans at the table stared at him, and after nothing happened for the next few moments, Bastion pivoted his eye to the glass and his chassis, now drenched in beer. Not wanting him to rust, Brigitte went over to him and began wiping the moisture off him with napkins.

"I'm sorry, Bastion, but…" Reinhardt began to break the news to the large omnic. "I'm afraid you don't have a mouth!"


The music of the bar faded behind him as he walked out off into the halls of the Watchpoint. He could hear the jukebox transition to another song after he left, but he was too far enough away to hear anything, now. Just his own footsteps and breath by this point, getting outside and seeing the moon high over Gibraltar. He looked at it for a moment, noting all the artificial light on its surface. Probably another subject of research he'll have to 'google' later if he had nothing else to do. Another addition to a long list of things he had been making ever since he learned what the Internet was, just never getting to it until then.

He waded a bit longer in the chilly evening air when he reached the cavern opening to Winston's lab. Getting inside before reaching the stairs, he could already hear that something was wrong. Hearing Fareeha's voice before seeing her above in the office. Only then did Nathan stop and think about what he was even doing. Why he walked across the base from perfectly good beer to check up on someone in the middle of business that wasn't his. Not sure what compelled him to do that. Unsure if he should even walk up the stairs. That voice of hers not getting any softer as he stood there. Nathan walked up the stairs, regardless, his footsteps lighter than usual.

He reached the top floor but didn't immediately walk into the office, instead choosing to stand a couple of meters away from the office entrance and watching what was happening inside. Inside, he obviously saw Fareeha and Winston but didn't expect to see Jesse McCree in there with them, as well. The Cowboy has not made a noise since he got there, only staying close to Fareeha's side. He watched as the Egyptian was arguing with a holoscreen. The only other voice that spoke in the room came from the holoscreen she argued with, unsurprisingly belonging to her mother.

"…You said it straight to my face! You promised you would!" Fareeha scorned Ana through the holoscreen, the anger suppressed but palpable in her voice.

"I know, ḥabībti, I know…" he could hear Ana respond, sounding hurt. For some reason, making a chill crawl up Nathan's back. "But this just came up, and we couldn't ignore it. We had to get intel on the current situation here, it was vital. I'm sorry."

"That's what you always say…" her daughter responded, unconvinced.

"Fareeha, please understand why I'm doing this. Why I've always done this! But… I promise we can spend time with each other, next time! When I get back. I won't take long."

"Yeah, you always say that, too."

Apparently having enough of this discussion, Fareeha scowled and marched away from the holoscreen. Leaving the office, she saw Nathan standing there, having watched that part of their discussion. She only stopped for a moment and narrowed his eyes at him, before walking down the stairs to the ground floor. McCree close behind her.

Nathan watched the two go before he looked towards the office, Winston now speaking to the holoscreen. This time, Morrison's voice came through.

"What's your status?" Winston asked.

"We're still reconning the area, but there isn't much left to recon here," the old Soldier answered. "Armor and personnel from Nellis are all over the area. Hell, we even spotted some local news crews on the edge of Groom Lake's perimeter wondering what all the fuss is about. But Talon's a no-show. Suspected they completely abandoned the base to avoid all the attention, nothing but scorched wreckage and corpses here. Can't blame 'em."

"Do you think they were attacked?"

"Maybe, it's as if a tactical nuke went off here."

"I hope not. Try to see if there is an origin for the disturbance we detected. Call us if you find anything."

"Solid copy."

"Oh, and Jack? Please keep an eye on Ana for me."

"Wilco. 76, out."

The holoscreen blinked off and Winston leaned back into his seat, taking a deep breath with that business done with. Outside his office, Nathan stared at him with his arms crossed over his chest, hearing everything from the transmission. Sounded like they had quite an operation on their hands. The Courier glad he wasn't at the center of it for once. However, his gaze drifted downward and spotted Fareeha sitting at one of the desks with Jesse still by her side. His mechanical arm on her shoulder. Taking one more glance at the office, Nathan walked down the stairs and towards the two.

When he reached them, McCree looked up and silently nodded to him before looking back at his friend. Fareeha sat on a stool and rested her arms against the top of the desk, propping her head up with an arm. She didn't turn her gaze away from the desk when Nathan approached but still heard him walk over.

"What do you want, Brin?" she asked coldly, her gaze still focused on the desk.

"Brigitte and Reinhardt are wondering when you'll come to the bar," he responded, telling her a half-truth.

"Is that it? Well, now they know why I'm late."

"Yeah, I saw."

"And what are you going to do about it? Why do you care? Why are you here and not them?" she then spat out, accusingly.

"I don't know," he truthfully answered. "I guess Brigitte was very convincing. They seemed rather bummed you weren't there. One less person to share drinks with."

"Tell them what happened, and they'll understand why I'm not there."

"Then they'll be confused why you didn't come."

Fareeha pivoted her head to him and looked at him square in the eyes. The Waster's weathered and scarred features unfazed by all the questions asked and received. Her eyes narrowed but she sighed and broke eye contact. Opting to stare at the top of the desk, again. Silence reigned again, but even that didn't last when Nathan spoke up.

"Look, it ain't my business what happened there but…"

Fareeha was ready to cut him off so he would stop before he even started. Not having the time nor patience to deal with him or anyone else for that matter. Not now. Ready to chew him out for anything he was about to say.

"…I fixed up the old jukebox in the bar, so, it's back to blasting music, again. Brigitte said you would've liked some of the songs."

Her features softened when he said that.

"… Jukebox?" she questioned, surprised that he would segue into that subject of all things.

"Yeah. Jukebox. Machine that plays music. Outdated, so I'm told, but still works. Goes along great with drinking."

Fareeha was almost in disbelief at what Nathan was saying, looking up at him with an almost incredulous expression. Was he asking her to… Hang out?

"You got that busted ol' thing workin', again?" Jesse McCree spoke up, smirking as he addressed them both. "Hell, that sounds like a swell combination!"

Fareeha looked over the shoulder he had his mechanical hand on, the old friends making eye contact for a moment or two. Dropping her gaze back to the desk, she sat up in her chair and brought a hand up to his. Brushing her hand against his.

"Yeah, it does," she agreed, before standing up on her own. Needing a distraction like everyone else.


AN:

Responses…

Lone Commentor: While I disagree that it didn't have any importance as it served as a way of introducing the world of Overwatch to the Search Party, I appreciate the concerns and complaints you had for the last chapter. I'm just surprised it was that chapter of all of them that someone felt was "unimportant" to the story.

And yes, the story is progressing to the reunion, that part is obvious. However, it's definitely going to be some time before we see that happen, as I'm taking things slow for narrative and non-narrative reasons (real life :P). We'll get there eventually… But the roads to getting there haven't been maintained that well. Nonetheless, thank you for reading!