"Did somebody say… peanut butter?"

"Doctor Ziegler, he's doing it again."

"Again?" The doctor stood up from her study. "Winston, come over here and say 'ah'."

The ape, which took great pleasure into watching people's faces when he demonstrated his eloquence, lumbered over to the doctor. "Really though, I could really use some peanut butter. Right now."

"Yes," Doctor Ziegler said distractedly, peering into the ape's mouth illuminated by her rotated desk lamp, "yes… I'm sure you would. Winston, has the gene therapy really done nothing to help you?"

"Oh no, Angela, it definitely helped. With the rashes, at least." Winston pushed his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. "The only downside seems to be quite the addiction to peanut butter, which isn't too bad." He paused. "As long as there's peanut butter."

"But really, love," the girl lying on a pile of boxes interjected, absorbed by the game she held in her hands, "almost half of our expenses this month have just been peanut butter." She raised her eyes from the device briefly, looking at the ape. "Almost half, Winston."

Winston scratched an ear guiltily, looking off to the side. "Well, it's not like we do much here, on the Rock of Gibraltar, anyway."

"Or the Peñón de Gibraltar, as the locals would call it," Angela chirped in.

"Or that." Winston sighed. "And please, Tracer, those packages are supplies meant for the eastern division in China. A carrier is coming by to pick them up tomorrow. You'll damage them."

"These things?" Tracer replied offhandedly as she casually rapped her knuckles on one, "that doesn't sound like something that can be damaged even if it's thrown out of an aircraft going at mach speed!"

"W-well…" Winston said, sputtering, "still though, you understand—"

"No, Winston," Tracer interrupted, putting down her little device which the doctor watched with intrigue as it continued to emit strange noises and light, "no, I don't understand. I don't understand what I'm doing on this stupid rock, I don't understand why I'm not with my family, eating a meal, having a laugh, and I sure don't understand why you care so much about these boxes!" She jumped off her bed of boxes and made her way out of the room, where she paused by the doorframe. "And my name is Lena, you monkey!"

Angela and Winston flinched as she slammed the door, the vibration travelling up their toes. "…not a monkey," the ape muttered sadly under his breath, "I'm a scientist."

An awkward moment of silence passed before Angela spoke. "Perhaps you shouldn't call her that. Not yet, at least."

"I know," the ape, whose eloquence occasionally failed him, said pensively, "I just forget sometimes, and I know how frustrating it must be for her to be kept here at Gibraltar. If it were up to me, she would have had a shuttle out of here two months ago."

"Then I'm sure glad it's not up to you," replied the doctor, "there's still much to be confirmed about that accelerator strapped to her chest. It's still a prototype, after all. You never know what it'd do."

"You're right on that department," Winston acknowledged, "still though, I just don't understand why her survival from the Slipstream incident has to be treated like some national secret."

"Ah, I would agree with you there," Angela said, "but I'm sure Morrison and the directors have their reasons. And I trust them."

"As do I. I just wish we can do a little more for Tra… Lena."

"As do I."

Another moment of silence passed between the two, both of them unsure about how to dispel the atmosphere and get back to work. Angela took the initiative to break the silence again. "You know," she began, "I'm not particularly fond about being here too. My place is in the hospital."

"I was wondering how long it would take you to say that," Winston said sheepishly, "you'll only be here long enough to clear the re-registration of your permits and visas, we can't have you held back on borders, now can we?"

The doctor sighed. "You're right."

"Yes, and with all these documents you have to fill out," Winston said while gesturing to the mess of papers sprawled across the table, "doesn't it just make you beg for Mercy?"

The doctor stared blankly at the ape.

"You see," the ape snickered awkwardly, "because… that's your… codename," he finished lamely.

The doctor's stare was as absent of emotion as it was unwavering.

"I'll get back to work."

"I will as well." Mercy sat back down and picked up a few papers.

The ape, whose eloquence often failed him, coughed as he consulted his clipboard, double checking the contents of the delivery.

The plates shined auburn against the setting sun as the doctor and the scientist ate their dinner, and attempts to have Lena join them only resulted in muffled groans through the door. Winston left a tub of peanut butter before it. Mercy tactfully removed that and replaced it with a tray of food she prepared for their dinner.

Dinner was shared mostly in silence, a silence occasionally broken by bouts of small talk about how the doctor's numerous hospitals were faring across the continents, and any recent breakthroughs in research and development in Gibraltar. Apparently, Morrison was across the world in Singapore conducting a reconnaissance mission under the suspicion of Chinese insurgents while Wilhelm was in Norway, something about peace negotiations.

All of a sudden, red lights started flaring up over the facility as a female synthetic voice cried out over the intercom, "Emergency transmission! Emergency transmission! Emergency transmission!"

"Calm down," Winston called loudly from across the table to a startled Angela, "It does this sometimes whenever there's a transmission, it's not necessarily an emergency!"

"What?!"

"I said, it might not be an emergency! There's still some bugs in Athena I haven't worked out yet!" He got up from the table. "I'm going to find out what this is all about!"

"What?!"

The ape raised his voice and shouted, "Just stay here! I'll be right back!"

He hurried back into the control room where he mashed a button to connect the transmission, his ears ringing from the blaring. He dug a finger into one. "I really need to get that fixed, or make it a little quieter, at least," he muttered.

The call connected to reveal a young man on the other side, face pale and sweating. He looked to be in a state of panic. "Winston of watch point seven-oh-nine Gibraltar, sir, is that you?"

"Speaking."

"Riley Miles, first sergeant of thirteenth platoon foxtrot company, requesting immediate evac of one critically wounded at coordinates thirty-five and nine-two, one-thirty-seven and six-three to your immediate location, sir!"

"That's Japan," Winston breathed, "why here, sergeant? How did you start this transmission?"

"Sir, when the patient was brought to the Bluestone hospital, the surgeons did what they could. But what they could was to barely stabilize the patient from the brink of death. Doctor Angela Ziegler authorized emergency transmissions to be made to your location if there is a perceived chance a patient might live, on any circumstance." The soldier looked off to the side, and what color was left on his face drained completely. "To be honest, sir, I have absolutely no idea how he's still alive. He was thrashing and wailing when we found him, and now he's still twitching a bit after being administered general anesthesia. I need your authorization to have him transported."

"Understood, soldier." The ape pushed a number of keys on the control panel. "Transportation authorized from your location. You may proceed with due haste."

Relief washed over his face. "Thank you, sir. We just don't know what to do with him, it was a nightmare bringing him here in the first place. We thought he was just a mangled mess of trash on the ground when he started moaning and then screaming, one word, over and over again." He shuddered. "It sounded like a devil calling on souls."

"What did he say?" asked Winston.

"Hanzo," the sergeant replied, "just 'Hanzo', over and over again."