White. Blinding white. Everywhere.

Vision enshrouded in a white veil. Body enshrouded in a white veil. But it doesn't stop the freezing cold. It was the freezing cold.

It is the freezing cold.

And he felt it, as overwhelming as it was.

Only shivering in response to what he felt. To where he was.

Oh, God.


Nathan nearly shook out of his sleep, feeling subdued as he jolted slightly off the table and was blinded by the clean light of the dropship cabin. Resting against the table like he had overstayed his welcome at a saloon, again.

"Err… Fuck," Nathan grumbled, too tired to wake up but too awake to go to sleep.

Blinking a few times, he made eye-contact with the red-eyes of his helmet, first. The sight alone almost making him wake up. His insides becoming warmer.

"Good morning," Brigitte said to him, sitting in the seats adjacent to his in the booth, taking an earbud out when she noticed him starting to stir.

"Mornin'," Nathan responded, more weary than half-hearted. Digging his fingers into his eyes and promptly plopped back against his seat, shaking the shelf behind.

"How long have I been asleep?"

"Just a couple hours," Brigitte answered. "Are you okay?"

"Nope."

"Sorry to hear that. There's some fresh coffee in that shelf behind you. Jesse made a new batch earlier."

"Thanks."

Brigitte replaced the earbud and went back to the holopad she was using. Drawing on a set of schematics she had on it.

Nathan turned around to the shelf and immediately grabbed a spare mug before pouring himself a hearty serving of coffee. He felt the heat around his fingers as he gripped the handle and brought it up to his nose to take a good whiff of the coffee. The aroma didn't relieve him of his stupor but at least it was something pleasant. When he took the first sip of many, it only affirmed what he learned long ago: that coffee from home had nothing on the simplest brews here. If you could even call the 200-year-old black powder that, anymore.

A few more sips were enough to help the simple man feel a tinge less miserable, warmth pooling in him, Nathan finally looked around the cabin and saw some of the other occupants were starting to get busy. Most of them gathering around the holodeck. Jesse, Reinhardt, Torbjörn, and Dr. Ziegler, to name a few. But there were some holoscreens with others who weren't in the dropship, too. Seeing Lena and Winston share one in this conference, most likely on a separate ship. Answering why it seemed quiet for the duration of the trip over here.

Glancing between the deck and his coffee, he quickly topped it off with more before taking another sip and getting up from his chair. About to join the rest of Overwatch before he realized he was holding his helmet. He put it back down at the edge of the table. Facing him.

He joined the rest of the crew, still getting intimate with the coffee. His arrival got their attention for a second, before more urgent matters retrieved it.

"Brin, you're here," Captain Amari stated, seeing who just walked in. "Glad to have you."

"Wouldn't miss this for the world," Nathan responded, downing more coffee.

"Right, as I was saying… We're rapidly approaching the LZ. Remember everyone, securing this area is the crucial first step we have to take. After this… Hopefully, the world will see differently, by then."

Nathan stopped mid-sip from the what she said. Looking at her holographic face in faint earnest.

"And from what I've seen about this… The Russians might show some thanks."

"I wouldn't be too sure of that," Torbjörn piped up. "Dealing with them in the past, Overwatch and otherwise, they can be… Well… Unappreciative about our efforts. Couldn't always blame them."

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there. Right now, we need to secure that position for them. So, are we all ready?"

The agents of Overwatch gave a collected "yes" to the Captain, with Nathan being the notable exception, but he just sipped his coffee.

"Then I'll see you all on the ground. Good luck, we'll get through this just fine. Fareeha, out."

She, along with the other screens, blinked off, leaving the ones around the table to get ready for what lay ahead. Some dispersing more quickly than others, and Nathan just hovering over the desk for a few seconds more than needed. Taking in what he heard before he took a final sip of his coffee and set the empty mug down.

He walked over to the where his gear was, his helmet the first thing he grabbed. While the rest of his assortment was being taken care of, he noticed Brigitte put her pad away and slipped on a coat. Along with some belts of equipment and gear. Her father also noticed, walking up to where she was.

"Getting ready?" Torbjörn asked his daughter.

"Yeah!" Brigitte responded, smiling as she slung a backpack over her shoulder.

"Nervous?"

"A little, but someone has to be there to watch you and Reinhardt's backs."

"You're not wrong, but I was afraid you were going to say that."

Brigitte's smile quickly faded.

"What?" she asked, confused and frowning.

"Brigitte…" Torbjörn began, though pausing for a second. "Can you stay on the ship when we drop? Just for a short while! So, we can make sure it's safe before you and the others get down there."

"Why?"

"For your own safety."

"Pappa, you know I volunteered for this. I know what I'm getting myself into! What makes this any different from last time?"

"That was an ambush. That wasn't supposed to be apart of the plan. But now that I know we're knowingly dropping into an area full of Omnics. Bastions, OR-14's - Full-blown killing machines! Things I know best. And because of that… I want you to stay on the ship. Just for a short while!" her father clarified again, holding his hands up as if to calm her down.

"I just don't want anything to happen to you, Reinhardt, or anyone. I want to help."

"I know, sweetie. I know you probably got used to all that. You can help as much as you want as soon as we're done. We have to make sure it's safe, first."

"Okay… Just this once," Brigitte reluctantly but eventually accepted.

"… Tack, Brigitte," Torbjörn graciously said.

Nathan had finished gathering his gear and went over to the opposite corner, where Reinhardt was. However, he still listened to the Lindholms until they were done. Nathan watching as Torbjörn walked away and Brigitte plopped down back into her seat.

"That went over well," Nathan commented, mostly to himself.

"Her father means well, without a doubt," Reinhardt said, quietly for once. "But… She has more than proven her worth to bring herself into the action."

"I can attest to that, a bit," Nathan said, rubbing his neck. "Girl's got some fight in her."

"Oh, yes, I am very aware of that, Ödländer," the German smirked.

"I have a name you know."

"Ah, I apologize for my incessant use, then. Would Herr Brin suffice?"

"Air what?"

Reinhardt started chuckling to himself more while Nathan craned his neck up at him in all that armor. He sighed as he went back to his pack and grabbed what he would need at the ready, hooking a couple Pulse Grenades to his belt. Grabbing All-American next and inspecting it. Feeling the rifle rock in his hands as he racked the bolt a few times, as smooth as it always was.

"Hey, Brin!" Torbjörn called, breaking Nathan's train of thought and uttering a lowly growl under his mask. Certain the dwarf was waddling over to give him a piece of his mind for eavesdropping on that tender moment.

"What?" the Courier practically growled as he turned around but was surprised as he narrowly caught a small bag tossed to him. The contents of the bag clattered as it moved.

"You'll need those for your rifle," the Engineer gestured towards All-American. "Standard 5.56 isn't going to leave a dent in those tin cans."

Catching himself for a moment, he reached through the bag and retrieved a 30-round magazine for his rifle. The first thing that stood out to him was how black and sleek this magazine was, not scratched and beat-up like his magazines. The second thing was the ammunition they were holding looked like ordinary 5.56 except for the bullet. The tips looked as over-engineered as some of the Dwarf's other gadgets, even at first glance. Very different from his own AP's. There was green tape wrapped around this magazine and the others, but he wouldn't have any problems with distinguishing ammo with mags as high-quality as these.

"If there are problems with cycling, let me know," the Engineer before turning around without as much of a "You're Welcome".

"He's starting to like you," Reinhardt noted as he put his helmet on, his T-shaped visor flashing to life.

Nathan looked at him and the mags. Then, he tapped the back of the magazine against his helmet, rather stoutly, and inserted it into All-American.

"We are rapidly approaching the LZ," Athena informed the occupants. "ETA: five minutes."

Reinhardt nudged Nathan's shoulder, the Waster nodding as he slung the bag of mags over his shoulder. Just a couple more pounds of shit to carry.

"And it wasn't even that long," Nathan recounted to his break if he could even call it that.

However, as Reinhardt and Nathan were about to cross over to the other side of the cabin, Brigitte walked up to them.

"You guys be careful out there, all right?" she said earnestly to them, grabbing Reinhardt by the big metal forearm. "Especially you!"

"Ach, you worry too much, Brigitte! Acting more like your mother than your father, sometimes," Reinhardt exclaimed.

"I agree!" her father piped in from the other side of the cabin.

"I'll be waiting for you guys," Brigitte smiled.

Reinhardt placed a large, assuring metallic hand on her shoulder before walking away. Nathan nodded to Brigitte before joining Reinhardt and the others near the cabin door.

There, most of the agents gathered, some making sure they were geared up and ready while some conversed with each other before they were about to land. Probably to help shake-off tinges of nervousness or pre-mission jitters. Right of the door, Nathan leaned against the holodeck and reached for his Vault 13 Canteen, simultaneously flipping the cap open and lifting his helmet up. Taking a quick swig to help the coffee he ingested, then quietly put it away.

Nearest to him, in the corner that was a makeshift basketball court, Hana had her pink mech parked there as she did some last-minute checkups of her own. Chatting with McCree as she did so. Nathan found it hard to not hear her distinctive voice.

"Practice?" Hana asked Jesse, acting offended as she sat atop of her mech. "Please. I did tell you what happened back in Seoul, right?"

"I think that was more luck on your side for that one," Jesse responded as he examined the cylinders of his revolver, putting rounds in.

"Yeah, right. There was nothing lucky about that," Hana said, looking at her sidearm locked into the cockpit of her mech. "And if I want more practice, I'll just ask Uncle Nathan for that."

Jesse did a double-take as there was groaning behind. The Waster instinctively reaching to his back pocket and pulling out his pack of smokes, before staring at it and realizing he had his helmet on and was in an enclosed space. Grumbling more as he put it away.

"Huh, figures," McCree mumbled under his breath to himself before shrugging it off and flicking his wrist to swing the cylinders into his revolver.

All the commotion attracted Dr. Ziegler, donning her Valkyrie armor with her staff in one hand and the other resting on a satchel full of extra medical supplies slung at her hip. The glint of her halo catching Nathan's eye under his helmet, and the others. However, Nathan also just noticed they all were wearing coats and winter gear matching their styles.

"I entrust you two are ready," she asked Jesse and Hana, an attentive look in her eyes.

"You'll be watching over us, won't you, Doc?" Jesse asked. "We'll be fine."

"Yeah, don't worry, Mom. I read the reports, and these guys are nothing like the Gwishin. With you guys and my mech, it'll be easy-peasy, I promise!"

"I hope you're not wrong, but remember Hana, we're here to help the people, foremost," Dr. Ziegler iterated.

The MEKA pilot's expression dropped the playful attitude for an understanding yet firm one. Nathan noticed.

"Yeah, that part is definitely not lost on me," the younger woman said, nodding. "I promise I'll do my best for them."

Angela's face softened before she stepped forward and gave Hana a quick hug.

"And don't forget to be safe, the other most important thing," the Doctor continued, letting go of Hana but still holding her shoulders. Dr. Ziegler then turned her head to McCree. "That also goes for you, Jesse."

The Cowboy only responded with a grateful smirk and the tip of his hat.

But Dr. Ziegler's smile faded a little when she looked just behind him, to his left, seeing Nathan Brin leaning against the holodeck. The Waster already decked out in his full gear with the exception of a duster, Angela wondering what happened to that. Only wearing a shirt under that cuirass, his arms more exposed than they usually were.

'He's going to be dreadfully cold with only that on,' Angela worried, but it was too late to find him a spare coat as Athena notified the crew.

"Attention agents! Arrival to the LZ imminent! Good luck, everyone!"

"You heard the lady!" Reinhardt exclaimed, grabbing everyone's attention in the enclosed space as he swung his hammer forward and at the ready. "We are about to enter battle! Another tireless, glorious day in Overwatch!"

"Hey, don't get carried away so soon, now!" Torbjörn berated, his metal claw spinning. "I still want to show these Russians how it's done."

"I'm sure you'll charm them," Angela surmised, almost rolling her eyes as she got behind the German.

Then, faintly, they could hear gunfire and explosions outside of their cabin. Getting louder the closer they got to their Landing Zone. It didn't feel like it was directed towards them, they hoped.

"Hope Athena can guide us through the AA…" Jesse admitted a bit quietly.

"Remember everyone! Our ship and Lena and Winston's will be the spearhead of this assault! The others will count on us," Reinhardt reiterated, slipping back into his old warrior spirit.

Nathan finally let the bolt slam forward, checking to see it chambered the ammunition properly. However, it took a few seconds for him to register what the Old German had just said. What he left his little vacation for.

"Wait, we are…?!"

No one responded as the cabin door opened above a cold, snowy landscape that billowed in as they flew. Nathan almost unable to see anything of the outside world as snow and Reinhardt obscured his vision. The cold was the first thing he felt.

"Good hunting, guys!" Hana wished them as she walked her mech up to the open door, priming her boosters. "I'll keep my wings in the sky!"

That pink egg became a pink blur as she rocketed off into hostile airspace and began engaging the enemy. Her cannons raining hell down at the targets below as enemy fire started being directed at her.

"Away she goes," McCree smirked over his shoulder to Brin, who grunted in response.

Now, as the sounds of the battle were starting to get close and the speed of the wind outside their ship slowed, they hovered over a patch of cleared forest just outside some settlement. The trees provided some cover, but they all knew they couldn't stay on those ships for long. Just a few more feet to go, and they were in it. Nathan having this other realization as he looked to his right to see Angela standing right beside him, ready to jump off.

"Charge!"

Reinhardt was the first one off as he took a giant leap forward and immediately threw up his barrier. Not even after everyone else got their boots into the snow, the barrier started rippling with several sources of weapons discharge directed at it. When everyone got off, the Orca quickly hovered up and away from enemy fire. Other Overwatch dropships on opposite sides of this settlement doing the same.

Now, Nathan realized, he was in it.

Without hesitation, the Courier ran up to the right of Reinhardt and began firing at figures in the distance through the blue transparent field, easing naturally into All-American and forgetting the break he took for the past couple of days. He watched several of these figures go down in sparks before McCree and Torbjörn could even join him. Angela bringing up the rear and keeping her staff tethered to one of them.

Nathan had to hand it to the Dwarf; All-American seemed to agree with the new ammo.

He was able to down one more defender before the first mag ran dry and inadvertently opened up an opportunity for this team to advance.

"We're clear! Move it!" Reinhardt yelled, dropping his barrier to begin running towards the burnt-out building, the others right behind him.

Even with the cold, the Californian trudged through the snow and was able to keep up with the Crusader Armor. His carbine's barrel the only warm part of it.

They eventually cleared the forest edge and immediately took cover behind what seemed to be a mostly-intact house. Nathan was the closest to a corner, so he quickly peeked around it and had a bolt of crackling energy nearly burn his helmet off. He was then picked up and plopped away from the corner when Reinhardt grabbed him with one of his large hands.

"Stay behind me!" he said before he went around the corner and threw up his barrier. "Now, my diminutive friend!"

Nathan watched as Torbjörn carried two devices, cranked them, and threw them onto the roof of the house. They made mechanical noises for several seconds until the clanking was replaced with rapid gunshots echoing from each of them, firing at any hostile present in their line of sight.

"Let's give 'em what we got!" Torbjörn exclaimed over the gunfire of his turrets.

The rest joined Reinhardt and made their way into the open of the village, the barrier soaking up incoming fire. Nathan and the others fired on these hostile machines, taking individuals down with ease but being mindful of their flanks and rear. Angela was right behind them when she noticed some movement to their right and saw a flash of red appear from behind a house heading right for Nathan.

"Nathan!" she called out before jumping right into him, both falling to the snow.

The bolt missed and struck Reinhardt, the armor shrugging off the attack. The Crusader yelled to McCree who spun around and delivered several magnum rounds into the perpetrator, making the omnic collapse to the ground with a spark.

Angela then quickly got off Nathan and helped him up, brushing off some snow from his armor and helmet.

"You really got to stop being a good doctor," he requested, shaking the snow off his carbine.

"A 'thank you' would've sufficed," she responded.

The sound of engines roaring over them and watching Song's mech fire a volley of missiles towards groups of targets surrounding them caught their attention, the two quickly joining the rest of their team.

Eventually, the group had made their way to what seemed to be the village center with a huge collection of omnics infesting the area in and around it, varying in size and function. Reinhardt kept his barrier up but warned his teammates to find cover if possible, in case his barrier were to fail. The kid in the sky hopping on a few rooftops and scrubbing omnics into scrap piles. Nathan's barrel starting to get properly hot as he put away his fourth spent magazine.

Some relief came when a streak of blue light appeared all over the center before an explosion sent a sizable group of omnics flying. Bursts of Oxton's Pulse Pistols downing the smaller targets as she evaded their fire and gave them breathing room.

"The cavalry is not late. Good!" Reinhardt laughed to himself as he maintained that barrier.

"I aim to please," Lena exclaimed over the comms.

But she wasn't the only one as other Overwatch agents, both Nathan could recognize and couldn't, started to appear and assist them in taking the town center. Amari doing fly-bys with Song to take out the larger targets, Winston getting rather close and personal to some of the defenders and either crushing or electrocuting them, and others providing supporting fire. It was by this point that Reinhardt dropped his barrier and began rocketing across the ground, throwing up snow like a plow. Crashing into enemy obstacles as he pleased.

These new rounds helped Nathan rack up quite a kill count in the first few minutes of this mission, a bit worried he was going to completely expel all the new ammo in the first hour. Some of the grunts armed with more advanced weaponry having trouble keeping up with the Waster. However, as he was amid a reload, he heard clanking stomps to his right and saw a Bastion unit. Not the Bastion he knew, but one completely painted black with a blood red eye. It let out a terrible cry that was unintelligible to him as it twisted and transformed into an autocannon. Nathan ducked to cover behind the old center fountain but the upper half of it was torn asunder, along with the structures behind it. Other agents immediately followed his lead as it began firing, unable to retaliate just yet. He reached to his belt and grabbed one of his Pulse Grenades, trying to lurch behind something solid as his cover was chipped away. But he watched a small disk fly through the air in front of him and plant into the snow, before emitting a glowing blue barrier like Reinhardt's and halting the gunfire. Nathan rocked his head back again as Orisa's gun began targeting the Bastion.

"There will be no need for that, Mr. Brin," Orisa clicked caringly before her eyes put on a "warface", again. "I got you covered."

He didn't say anything as he rose from cover and began firing onto the Bastion with her, her shield allowing them the opportunity. Other agents joining them.

When it seemed like it was the end, the Bastion reconfigured into a bipedal form to try and get away but was knocked to the ground by a large column of fire. Reinhardt then slamming his hammer down on top of it sealed the deal, probably taking down the heaviest gun in the village. After the Crusader retrieved his hammer from the mangled scrapheap, some bits of metal clung to it until he shook it off. Nathan walked up to the corpse of the Bastion, taking a closer look at how it was almost an exact copy of the one he knew. Its eye blinking back to life showed it wasn't a dead left, the blocky head focusing on Nathan. It tried to pivot its arm-gun to him, but he saw fit to fire a few rounds into its head before it could.

A distorted, mechanical roar definitely non-organic in nature made every agent stop and listen to the air. Brin decided to give his carbine a rest and summoned the Brush Gun from his rifle holster. Inserting AP ammunition, he created for it, not as advanced as Lindholm's but with a hell of a lot more powder.

"Reinhardt, I'm seeing movement heading towards the Eastern side of the village where you are. Closing in fast," Captain Amari exclaimed over comms.

"How many? I need more eliminations on my tab," the Crusader boasted, gripping his hammer.

"I can only see one… Everyone, take cover!"

Another roar echoed over the snowy land but at an earsplitting volume. The next second, the house Reinhardt stood next to crumbled as a large black, arachnoid automaton charged through it and let another distorted roar. It was like the monster in Numbani but smaller. Everyone within close proximity was knocked to their feet by the force and the rubble, except Reinhardt. Naturally, he tried to smash the thing but was a bit too slow as it tackled the German in power armor and onto his back. Pouncing atop him and trying to impale him with its two front legs, but Reinhardt grabbed them before they came close to scratching the paint.

Meanwhile, automated guns atop its hulls began firing at the agents within their field of view, forcing them to scramble for cover and try to fire back if possible. Nathan was still on his back and was a few meters away from Reinhardt and the omnic. Scrambling to his Brush Gun a few feet away, he unhooked one of the Pulse Grenades and threw it into the air, just above the omnic. Feeling things still for a moment as he hurriedly lined up the sight with the chrome object, afraid the winter air will obscure the silhouette. Nathan fired, and the grenade went off. As soon as the field of energy touched it, the omnic recoiled back like a struck beast, getting off Reinhardt and stumbling around the center. It was at this time Song landed right next to Reinhardt and began firing on the omnic, tearing it apart with fusion blasts. After being wobbling for several more moments, its spider-legs gave out and collapsed over the center fountain, the hull still sparking with electricity and twitching. The Courier walked up to the front of the omnic where its big red eye was and delivered two shots from his Brush Gun into it, obliterating the eye and its protective housing. The Arachnid stopped twitching after and shut off permanently.

Nathan ejected the spent cartridge and immediately began topping his weapon off with ammunition as there was the sound of a hatch opening behind him. He turned around to see Hana climbing out of her mech and onto the snow, then running to Reinhardt's side.

"Grandpa!" she yelled, crouching beside his right pauldron.

"I'm fine, Hana, I'm fine," Reinhardt groaned, his helmet no longer glowing yellow. Actually, he wasn't moving at all, aside from his head.

Nathan lumbered over to them, Brush Gun in hand, looking down at Wilhelm.

"It seems your gadgets work a little too well, Herr Brin," the immobile German stated, grunting as he tried to get up.

"You're still alive," Nathan responded.

"That is true," Reinhardt agreed as Hana helped remove his helmet, groaning when it finally got off. "Thank you. Both of you. Now, where is my gnomish friend?"

Nathan grunted in response and looked around the ruined village, now covered in dead omnics. He could still feel the heat off All-American's barrel on his back, normally scalding from the number of rounds he put through it, but he welcomed it in this weather. Needed it, really. The engagement's conclusion helped him remember that he was in the cold.

Jet engines roared as Fareeha landed next to them, walking over to Reinhardt and kneeling next to Hana.

"Are you all right, Rein?" she asked, tipping her helmet up to get a better look.

"Other than my immobility, I am fine," he said.

"That's good to hear. I'll send Torbjörn over as soon as he's done with something we just found that. Speaking of which, Brin, can you come with me? We might need to do some heavy lifting and we obviously can't do that with him out of commission for the meantime."

"Sure," Nathan responded, but silently peeved his smoke break was delayed.

As the rest of Overwatch's forces secured this village after properly rooting out the omnic aggressors, Fareeha took Nathan to the outskirts of the village, opposite side to where his ship had landed. There they found several large, metallic black crates that were lined up in a row next to each other. Torbjörn was getting to work on one of them, using his cybernetic hand to weld one of the crates apart.

"What are these doing out here?" Nathan asked.

"We're not sure. Metal's too thick to let any proper scans come through, but they have hinged openings," Fareeha explained, loading a fresh clip of rockets.

"Dangerous?"

"He doesn't think so. They seem mostly hollow."

After about a minute, Torbjörn finally finished welding one open. Then, Nathan was instructed to help him.

"I'll pull, you push," Lindholm said, his claw clamping onto a corner. "One. Two. Three. Push!"

They both began exerting force away from the crate while Fareeha stood watch. Nathan heaved and groaned as he pushed a slab of solid metal on a hinge, but it was able to give way, albeit slowly. And when the opening became human-sized, Nathan was quick to react as he looked inside and saw someone from within the crate run at him with a knife.

Dropping everything, Nathan grabbed the figure's attacking hand before slamming them into the snow. Instinctively and on autopilot, the Courier retrieved his knife as he kept the attacker's hand in a vice. And he was about to plunge his blade into them until Torbjörn's claw stopped him just in time.

"Brin, stop! That's a person!" Torbjörn practically screamed into his ear, his face becoming red hot. "They thought you were an omnic. Stop!"

It was only then that the Courier realized his attacker was a blonde woman with blue eyes, who couldn't have been out of her mid-twenties. She had dirt and grime all over her, with clothes that were torn and tattered. Her eyes stared up at him but peered a thousand yards through him. Almost as large as orbs.

The woman dropped the blade and began scooting away from the large man when he let go.

"Oh, bòzhe mòi…" she said, the words obviously lost to Nathan and possibly the others. "Kto ty? Kto ty?"

"Ma'am. Ma'am!" Fareeha took off her helmet and knelt down, making the lady jump at first. "Please, calm down. You're safe now."

The woman looked like she was taking a few moments to comprehend what just happened. Looking at the humans who had just saved her, until her eyes landed on Torbjörn. Seeing that made him lighten his grip on Nathan.

"Over… watch?" she tried to say a word not in her native language, gauging everyone's response.

Fareeha shuddered a bit but nodded her head looking down at the woman.

"Yes… We're Overwatch," the young Amari said, almost sounding like she was unsure to say it.

Then, the woman, just hostile and scared several moments earlier, started crying and reached up to Fareeha. Amari was a bit surprised when she wrapped arms around her, or tried to with the armor, giving her a kiss on each cheek before she went on bawling her eyes out.

Wrestling his arm from the Dwarf's claw, Nathan turned around and peered inside the crate. Two pairs of eyes staring back at him, scared and scooting into the corner. Brin stepped away from the crate and began walking away. But he stopped momentarily as he almost walked right into Dr. Ziegler, who had just arrived to see what they had found. Nathan then gestures his head towards the captives and crates.

"They need you," he stated. "I won't keep you."

Nathan stepped aside and brushed past Angela, looking over her shoulder, wondering where he was going and if he was all right.

"Torbjörn, get Vaswani and some of the others to help you open the rest of these," Amari ordered, still trying to comfort the woman. "Angela? Is that you?"

"Uh, yes!" the Doctor said, before immediately running over to Fareeha and tending to the woman. "I'm here. Don't worry."

However, as she began assessing and treating the poor woman's injuries, she looked over her shoulder for a moment to see Nathan still walking away, probably to find rest from the chilling air.


Siberian Front, 2000-kilometers East of Novosibirsk, Russia

Nathan sat on the corpse of a dispatched omnic at the western edge of the village as he stared at a little fire, finally able to get it going in this shriveling cold. Of course, smoking a cigarette to keep his insides warm as best he could, having gone through several already. It had gotten dark and cold quick, but thankfully the fire was enough for him to not completely snuff things out for today. To make it somewhat more bearable, he blared music from his Pip-Boy, "Stars of The Midnight Range". Fitting since he could see so damn many of them in the sky right now but was keener to look into the fire.

His ears perked to crunching snow and looked over his shoulder to see a red poncho walking towards him, both the fleshy and metal hands raised in the air.

"Just me, partner," McCree greeted, walking up to the fire. "Nice music."

"Hmph."

When Jesse got right up to the fire and next to Nathan, the Californian finished up his current cigarette, threw the butt into the fire, and retrieved another one. The Cowboy got one of his cigars into his mouth and struck a match against his metal forearm. When he brought the flame to his cigar, he offered it to Nathan, lighting his cigarette for him and throwing it into the fire when they both had lit flames. The air filled with the crackling of the fire and their breaths drawing tobacco.

The song had ended when Nathan got a quarter of the way through his newest cigarette.

"I saw that shot you took with the lever-action," Jesse said in between puffs. "Not bad. Kinda like Buffalo Bill."

"…Who?" Nathan asked, pausing from his smoke.

"Oh, don't tell me Buffalo Bill doesn't exist in your world."

"Is he a friend of yours?"

"No, he ain't. I do know someone who's pretty good with a lever-action but…"

"But what?"

McCree addressed Nathan for a second, puffing and shaking his head.

"Nevermind," the Cowboy said, grabbing a disembodied Bastion head and using it as a place to sit. "Getting ahead of myself and it's a long story."

Nathan usually would've left it at that and kept smoking his cigarette, but he felt compelled to find out who this other gunslinger with a lever-action was. Thinking he was the only one in this world. And whether McCree was bullshitting, or they were actually a good shot.

"I got time," the Waster said, blowing smoke towards the fire.

"You do? Well… Not sure where to begin," the Cowboy paused, as if unsure. "I didn't always run with Overwatch. Not sure if you knew that. Nope, I used to be with a gang."

"A raider gang?"

"Sometimes we raided. Or stole. Or robbed. Or whatever you want to call it. We ran in the southwest, around Arizona and New Mexico. Know those places?"

"Yeah, if they weren't under control by slaving, Roman wannabes."

"Right… Well, I ran with a gang before Overwatch 'conscripted' me when they tagged and bagged us. Or tried to."

"Still running?"

"Yup, unfortunately. Still go by the same name, 'Deadlock'. And I heard they're still running under the same boss, too."

"Huh… They know you're alive?"

"Without a doubt."

However, before their delightful conversation could continue, a streak of light shined across both their faces and they looked up to see something coming through the forest just ahead on the trail. It was a vehicle, a large, heavily armored car, that was as white as the snow. It had a tiny, tattered flag stuck to one of its mirrors that consisted of a white, red, and blue stripes stacked on the other. Given where he was, Nathan expected to see more red.

One car coming up the road wouldn't be so bad, but there was a caravan following the lead vehicle closely. And some of them were more heavily armored.

"Ah, hell," the American grumbled, taking a longer drag. "Took their sweet-ass time getting here. Look live! Ruskies are here."

"Soviets?" the New Californian questioned, standing up.

"What?! No! Eh, just keep your gun holstered. Let me handle this."

That didn't instill much confidence in Nathan as he lowly grumbled and watched the Russian military vehicles get closer. They haven't opened fire so far.

Finally, the lead vehicle stopped within several meters of the village and their campfire. McCree stepped forward to "greet" them as the doors opened up and soldiers in white winter clothing hopped out.

"Privyet!" the American said in an accent that made Nathan groan. "Ya-"

"Hands up, now!" one of the Russians barked at him in English as they pointed their weapons at them.

"Now, hold on!"

As McCree did as he was told, more Russian troops from the convoy began to spill in and surround the lead vehicle, their weapons obviously trained on the Overwatch agents. Several soldiers were training their rifles on Nathan alone, but he was more interested in their rifles than the fact they were pointed at them.

'So that's what AK's look like here…?' he thought, craning his neck to get a better look with the fire's light.

"Hands up, American!" one of the soldiers ordered him, jutting his rifle upward a bit.

"My hands are already up," Nathan stated, left arm crossed over his chest supporting the arm holding his cigarette. "And I'm not American."

A few more soldiers started walking up to the front, but two of them caught Nathan's eye. One was a middle-aged man in a similar uniform to his comrades but wore a red beret with a golden star in the middle and bore an insignia on his armored shoulder pads. The other, a much larger soldier and practically towering to Nathan's height, followed the officer and carried a huge energy weapon, hinted by the glowing ball seated into a socket that had revolving pieces of metal. The soldier didn't wear any coat or winter gear like the others, wearing a camouflaged uniform underneath armored plates strapped to her legs and torso. Her pink hair made Nathan recognize her from the new broadcasts a day earlier. Wasn't expecting to see her so soon. Even in the night, she stuck out, either with the pink hair or that derisive glare she was giving them.

The officer walked up to McCree, that pink-haired soldier following closely.

"I want to speak with your Commanding Officer," the officer demanded, calmly and fluently.

"My CO?" McCree asked. "Ehhh, we don't really have CO's here."

"Then I will speak with whoever is in charge of this operation. And maybe they can explain why you are here. Especially against all international sanctions."

"Isn't it obvious? We're helping."

The pink-haired soldier chuffed and rolled her eyes.

"We don't need your help," she spat.

"Serzhant Zaryanova, tikho!" the Russian CO ordered her shut.

"Is that right?" McCree asked, not letting this go. "Because I'm pretty sure we just did what the Russian military couldn't do for the past couple of months: take back a town. And y'all seem mighty grateful if you took an entire convoy up here to set up shop. Y'all are going to stay, right?"

This "Serzhant Zaryanova" did not look pleased.

Finally, Captain Fareeha Amari and Reinhardt Wilhelm, both in winter coats, walked into view of the Russian military convoy and caught the eye of the CO. Amari, wearing her own military uniform, walked right up to the Russian CO with a stern face and threw up a stiff hand in a salute. The Russian CO obliged, his expression unfaltering.

"Captain Fareeha Amari, one of the coordinators of the Overwatch detachment," she greeted, offering a hand to him.

"Major Mikhail Nikonov, commander of the 10th Company, 3rd Battalion, 7th Shock Army," the Major took her hand and shook it firmly. His expression then softened. "'Amari'? You wouldn't happen to be-?"

"I am, Major, but there are more pressing matters for us to attend to."

"Of course. I won't lie, you're caught us and everyone else in the world by surprise. Unsurprisingly, there are already calls that all of you be arrested right on the spot. However, certain… superiors of mine want to take advantage of this unique opportunity you've given us. Ones that they are certainly grateful for."

"Then I'd be glad to discuss them with you and my peers. But just so you know, Major, trying to apprehend us will end up in a bigger mess than the omnics have left here before. At the detriment to both your soldiers and the civilians here. I'm sorry, but that's, unfortunately, the position we have here."

"I will keep that in mind."

"Then, shall we?"

Major Nikonov smiled without any hint of malice in it before he stepped back and ordered his men to head inside. The Captain then turned around to go back inside into the village with Nikonov and his troops following. McCree finally let his hands down.

"Want us to go in there with you, Fare?" he called out.

"No, you two can stay and rest. If anything happens, you'll know," she called back.

"Suits me."

The Cowboy went back to the Bastion head and sat back down as the convoy of Russian vehicles passed them. Nathan stepped closer to watch the convoy go, silently awed by all the armor passing by him. Then, one of the Russians bumped into his shoulder as they were walking by, rather forcefully. He kept his balance, and he didn't need to look up to see who it was. Growling at the pink hair becoming dim in the night.


A few miles West of the Nevada-Arizona Border, Nevada

An old truck from the 2010s sped along the older concrete road, disregarding the speed limit signs that no one adhered to for the past few decades. Despite being the dead of night in the middle of the desert, most of the car's lights were not on to avoid detection in a wide-open area like this. Morrison instead opting to use the lowlight vision of his mask to get around the desert. Occasionally looking over his shoulder to see if they were being tailed by anyone or to make sure the new occupants were behaving back there. For a while, they went off-road to hide their trail for a short while, but after almost an hour of no activity, Jack decided to take to the road, again. It was smoother but still a bumpy ride.

"Hey, watch it!" Veronica exclaimed from the back, holding on to her a grab handle and one of the dogs. "Some of us don't have seatbelts you know."

The old Soldier grumbled lowly as he cast another glare of his mask to them, seeing Veronica, Parmley, and those two dogs try to hang on in the limited space they had. Funnily enough, that cybernetic dog was the most relaxed of the passengers as he calmly sat in the middle seat. That Boone fella offered to strap himself in the truck bed to keep watch with that wooden rifle of his, sequestering himself from the others. Which meant Morrison already liked him the most, but that cyber-dog was getting there.

"Not my fault this truck has wheels," Jack said as he looked back to the road, shifting the truck into lower gear for now.

Although, he did feel some pleasure from getting an opportunity to drive one of these old things, even when the circumstances for doing so were a bit dire. He has always liked "vintage" things, as typical with his age.

"Ana, you pick up anything, yet?" he looked to his left to the passenger side where his partner was sitting, her rifle seated between her legs.

"No," Ana answered, shaking her head with a hand up to her ear. "Nothing but interference. I think they're jamming us."

"Of course, they would."

Morrison shook his head, not surprised but still annoyed. Curious he looked at the radio and turned it on, turning up the volume to hear nothing but static no matter where he turned the dial. His frustration only mounted.

"Umm… Excuse me, but," Veronica began in the back seat, again. "Where the hell are you guys taking us? And, second, who are you people? I mean, I got the Overwatch part and you're apparently called Soldier: 69?"

"76."

"Right, but who are you?" she pointed to Ana, who looked back at her with her visor still.

Ana looked at Jack for a moment, who looked at her in response. Nothing was said in their moment of understanding as Jack reluctantly nodded to her, giving her the okay to do whatever she wanted. Even though he wasn't her commander anymore. He couldn't be bothered much, anyway.

"I'm Ana," she said as her visor retracted, revealing her weathered features. "You?"

"Veronica," the ex-Scribe responded, before listing off the others. "Parmley, Rex, and Cooper. Boone's the one in the back."

"I see," the old Sniper said as she spotted the red beret in the rear window. "A real pleasure to meet all of you, disregarding the circumstances."

"Thanks. You too, I guess?"

"Now, Jack? He's Jack, by the way," she gestured to the driver, grumbling at the mention of his name. "Can you tell us where exactly we are heading? I'm quite curious myself, too."

"Right now? Anywhere but here," Jack responded, glancing into the rear-view mirror. "We need to get far away enough from the Feds so we can actually call in for extraction. If we can call in for extraction. Obviously, easier said than done so until then we'll have to find places to hide or go somewhere where I know we'll get some decent communications. Maybe one of the old Watchpoints in the area, if I can still remember them."

"I see… Thanks for telling us," Veronica said, staring at the red light of his mask.

"Right. Now we just answered two of your questions, how about you answer one of mine? Since we're gonna be stuck here together for God knows long…" the old Soldier lamented as he adjusted the rear-view mirror to have them in view. "Who is this 'friend' that old man mentioned back in Goodsprings? Has he got something to do with the trail of destruction you guys left?"

Veronica went silent, finding herself staring blankly at the thin, red line in the rear-view mirror looking at her. She looked at Parmley, who could only give a reassuring shrug in response.

"Somewhat…" she admitted, somewhat ashamedly. "We're just trying to find him because he went missing some time ago, and we traveled this long doing so. Of course, we end up getting wrapped up in other's people business. Which, actually, isn't that much different when we used to travel with him."

She laughed to her self for a moment, shaking her head.

"He's a very charming fellow."

"This must be a very, very good friend of yours to go through all the trouble we saw," Ana commented, getting more curious. "What's his name?"

"A lot of people call him 'Courier 6', but I call him Nathan," Veronica answered, smiling at the thought of him.

Morrison almost slammed on the brakes of the truck as his hands tensed on the steering wheel, looking over to see Ana's expression being the same as his. Just a few minutes ago they were still skeptics regarding the Wastelander's curious case, thinking there had to be something else at play. That he wasn't entirely being forthright with who he really is and where he was really from. Even the things they witnessed him do or the gear he possessed were not enough to convince them. But now they had more evidence sitting in the back of this truck and stored on the trailer hitched to it. If it was like anything Nathan had at Gibraltar…

"Brin?!" Ana exclaimed, trying to calm herself. "Your friend is Nathan Brin?!"

"You know him?" Veronica asked, her ears perking at the mention of his full name and the familiarity Ana said it with. Parmley looking up, as invested as the other Wasters by this point.

"Yes, he's been stuck with us for the past few months. Practically everyone knows him," Morrison piped in.

"So, he's alive? He's alive?!"

"Yes, he's alive, last time I checked."

"Oh my, God. You have to take him to us! He needs to know we're here to take him back home!"

"Sure, but we still need to find a way to contact them. It looks like we already have a long road trip ahead of us," Morrison said but shaking his head while a million thoughts ran through it. "God, this explains a lot…"

"Right… Right! W-w-we can do that! Right, guys?" she said, looking at the other in the seat with her. "What's a couple miles more?"

Relief, excitement, and anxiety coursed through her brain at unfettered speeds, Veronica unable to decide what she should even feel in this exact moment. Searching across two deserts, having neurotic pre-War scientists as hosts, and traveling across a dimension can have its toll on anyone insane enough to go through it. And now the crew finally had a chance to bring their friend back home, to where he belongs. But, as Veronica's mind considered all the possibilities and outcomes, this overbearing sense of grief had washed away sensations of the good news seconds prior. Thinking about home and what they had to be going through in their absence. But she hoped Nathan would help fix things when they brought him back.

Help the Mojave, for a second time.

"Then most of the things he's told us are probably true, then," Ana muttered under her breath, usually not one to be caught off-guard by things like this. Even as someone who's seen as much as she has when she had two eyes and after. Although, a lot of the things she's come to learn about Nathan Brin, the Wastelander, the New California, the Courier 6, started to click in her head. Albeit, slightly.

She turned around, addressing Veronica with a glint in her eye.

"Tell me, Veronica, how did you get here?" Ana earnestly asked the ex-Scribe. "Are you from the same place Nathan is? This… 'New California Republic'."

"Parmley and Boone are. I'm from California but not an NCR citizen. Quite the opposite," Veronica clarified but smiling a bit more. "As for how we got here… That's a really long story."

"We've got time," the old Sniper said, gesturing to themselves. "What do you think, Jack?"

"Anything to pass the time. Can't seem to find anything good in here to play on the radio," the old Soldier said as he rummaged through the glove compartment, pulling out Compact Discs. "Unless you like pop from the early-2000's?"

Ana smiled as she looked to Veronica and gestured for her to start. Veronica never considered herself a good storyteller, not unlike some of the others Nathan traveled with, but everything from Boone, Parmley, and Rex finding her in Old Mormon Fort to them jumping to other dimensions was still fresh in her mind.

"Well, I'm not sure you'll believe anything I'm about to say," Veronica forewarned.

"Then you have no idea who you're talking to," Ana Amari responded. "I guess that does mean you're not from here."


Well, that took a while, didn't it?

First things first, yes, I am aware of all the Overwatch lore that's been introduced in my absence.

Second, yes, I know Fallout 76 was released and no, I'm not incorporating it into my story. I played the BETA with my friends aaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnddd let's just say I don't have to complain to Bethesda about the quality of my West-Tek bag because I didn't receive one… Nor did I receive the game... Cause I didn't buy it. Cause I didn't want it. Also, as a side note, I was planning to use Country Roads in this story long before F76 was even announced. So, happy coincidence, I guess.

Responses:

Blaise Welshman (usually I respond to accounts with PM, but yours are disabled so here we go): First, don't just tell someone to delete an entire chapter from their story. A lot of time and work was spent into the chapter, as is with all of them, and I feel that it is such a huge request to make of the author of any story. Do I have doubts about certain parts in my story? Yes. Will I make revisions when they seem appropriate and necessary? Yes. Will I delete an entire chapter? No! Second, just because Nathan experienced "worse" events doesn't mean he still wouldn't be affected by other tragedies. That is not how human emotions work in regard to experiencing traumatic events. He would be more hardened than most, maybe wouldn't show it outwardly, but he hasn't turned into an emotionless husk. This "one-upmanship" but with PTSD would really be out of character for this story, and out of character for Nathan. Third, yes, he is remarkably petty to Hanzo. Nathan is, unfortunately in this point of his life, that type of person to be angry at someone seemingly indefinitely for sticking him with an arrow. I thought that was clear. Fourth, I'm not sure about removing the placeholder chapter since I don't know how that will affect the reviews left on it. If anyone can tell me, that would be appreciated!

Thanks to everyone who has read my story! Happy (late) Holidays and Happy (late) New Years!