--several years later--

"Christ, Boss, some of these missions are just plain sad. I'll shoot terrorists all day, but infiltrating buildings to extract criminals is kinda basic." Longshot said over coms.

"It's our job, kid. And if this keeps us out of prison, I'm doin it."

"Fair enough. Guard on the left, ten feet ahead."

"Got it. Can you see the target?"

"Possible positive in the next room. Three heat signatures, one behind a desk." Longshot watched through his scope as the group burst into the room and grabbed the guy. Suddenly, he heard a ping from his portable computer on his arm. He turned on the screen, and saw a message from a user tagged "Mercy". He popped it open and read bits of it between looking through his scope. "Huh, I'm being transferred to the Overwatch Strike Force."

"Really? What for?"

"Doesn't say... From someone named Mercy..."

"Heh, sounds like you're gonna have some fun."

"So long as it's some action, it's fine with me."

--The next day--

Longshot stepped off the plane and was handed his gear from an Overwatch agent. "Thanks. Know where I'm going?"

"Yes sir. If you'll follow me, I'll take you to Mercy."

"Who exactly IS Mercy?"

"If you don't know, it's probably for a reason. This way sir."

"I hate being the last to know shit..."

"Yes sir." The agent said as he led Longshot into the main facility and to a room on the third floor. "In here, sir. Mercy will be with you in a few minutes."

John sat at the table for close to ten minutes, then opened up his gear and began taking apart his rifle, cleaning the barrel, checking the connections to the capacitors, and after fifteen minutes of cleaning, he put it back together, and set it on the table. Then he got to work on his revolver. This was quicker, he pulled it apart, cleaned the barrel and chambers, then put it back together, and sat it on the table too.

He sat there for a little while longer. Then began putting his rifle and revolver back in the case. He picked up the case and went for the door, only to walk headfirst into Dr. Ziegler.

"God damnit..." He grumbled as he rubbed his new bump on his head. He then looked up at who he ran into. "Oh, sorry, Angel. Didn't see you there."

"No, I shouldn't have kept you waiting so long..."

"So you're Mercy?" John asked with a slightly puzzled look on his face.

"Yes, yes I am."

"You really don't seem like a combat medic." He said as he set his case back on the table.

"How so?" She asked as she sat down in a chair at the table.

"From what I gathered, you hate anything where people get hurt. Not to mention you're rather outspoken about the military aspects of Overwatch in general."

"True, however, being a part of Overwatch allows me to save more lives by advancing medical technology. I've already created a suit that allows human cells to age at a slower rate. Something that comes close to halting ageing."

"Well shit. That'll help with overpopulation." He said rolling his eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"There was a man that wrote a book back in the mid twentieth century that predicted the rise of human populations would result in famine and starvation, and pushed for a total reworking of society to alleviate the impending disaster that human breeding tendencies were destined to cause."

"You.. You're talking about the book The Population Bomb, by Paul Ehrlich, correct?" She asked, clearly surprised at the turn the conversation took.

"Yep, before the Omnic Crisis, the world was reaching about ten billion people, and the effects were already being felt. Then the crisis hit and the population dropped to eight point five. But with tech like your suit supposedly has will allow people to live to, what, one fifty? One sixty? With human reproduction as it is, we'll be back at ten billion by the end of the next decade. And we'll be right back where we started. Granted, if people start getting into the trend of fucking the omnics, like I've heard, we may have another three to four decades before we have to worry about that... But we will have to. And unless we can start colonizing other bodies in our solar system, we may run into the problem regardless. Shit, even IF we start colonizing other worlds, we'll eventually die out from war, or a rampant supervirus, or if you really want to get crazy, an extraterrestrial invasion."

Dr. Ziegler sat there, stunned at the constant flow of words that came from his mouth.

"Last thing you expected from this country sniper was a brain, eh?" He said with a smirk. "Or did I lose you at the "humans fucking omnics" part?"

"...do you always have a constant stream of thoughts running through your head?" She finally asked.

"As a rule, yes. Why?"

"No reason... Just wondering how you manage to function on a daily basis..."

"Hey, I pay my taxes one leg at a time just like everyone else."

"Is that a reference to something?"

"You may never know... Now, why did you transfer me here?"

"We need you to go to to Australia."

"The deadliest place on earth?"

"Correct, troubles are brewing since the Australian government gave the omnium and the surrounding areas to the local omnics."

"Soooo what? Want me to incite chaos or prevent a revolution?"

"Right now, keep the natives from assaulting the omnium or the omnics."

"My backup?"

"Me."

"Really? I'd ask if you're ready to walk through hell, but that's a paradise in comparison."

"Cute, for the most part, we'll be trying to keep the peace, and hopefully, nothing will come from this."

"You'll forgive me if I know better, Angel. Humans are a violent species, constantly fighting with itself. If they get pissed off enough, they're gonna tear that factory apart."

"And that is exactly what we are going to try to stop."

--Three weeks later--

Mercy and Longshot sat in a bar in Sydney, waiting for their drinks.

"Well that sucked." John said as his whiskey and beer back arrived first.

"I can't say I was expecting an extremely obese man on a motorcycle to be capable of such destruction..." Mercy said as she watched the reports on the tv roll by.

"It never ceases to amaze me how often it is the ones you least expect who are the ones that cause shit to hit the fan..." He said after he took a swig from his beer. "This local brand ain't bad..." He mumbled to himself.

"All the people and omnics killed in the blast..." Mercy whispered to herself...

John sat there for a moment then waved the bartender over. "Lets get some shots going for the two of us." He whispered to the middle aged man who nodded and grabbed a bottle from the shelf and a pair of clean shot glasses from under the counter. He set the glasses down in front of the recipients and filled them up.

"Hey, Angel." John said as he put his hand on her shoulder, making her jump.

"What?"

"Drink this quick, it'll make you feel better." He said as he handed her the shot in front of her. She quickly downed it and John motioned for another round.

"When will I start feeling better?"

"In about ten minutes after you've had four or five more.

--Half an hour later; Ten shots in--

"You know..." Mercy slurred as she looked at Longshot who was paying the tab. "When I first met you... I kinda liked you. Though you were kinda hot and really naked."

"Yeah, and I was to young for you to jump on." He said as he helped her up and out of the bar.

"Only legal *hic* legally. Human males can start ejaculating at age thirteen on average. You were fourteen if my *hic* memory serves. So unless you were a late bloomer, which is unlikely because I had your nuts next to my hand when I checked you for a hernia." She said as they stumbled to their hotel across the street.

"So you WERE checking me out back then! McCree owes me twenty bucks."

"The cowboy?" She asked, getting a nod in return. "What is he to you?"

"Something like a father or older brother." He answered.

"That's right... You lost your parents in the omnic crisis too." She said as she looked at the man holding her up. "You're of legal age now... Right?"

"Angel, I'm two years younger then you, and you're twenty five. Even drunk you should know that."

"Why do you call me Angle?"

"Angel, and because you look like one, especially with your suit on."

"Right, the wings... Come on, I want to tear your clothes off!" She slurred as she pushed herself into her room.

"Right, how long since you've thrown up?"

"What?"

"Wait for me in the bathroom."

"You bet *hic* hotness." She said as she stumbled into the restroom.

John started counting and by the time he hit fourteen, he could hear the tell-tale sounds of a woman puking in the next room. He walked towards the door and missed, catching the door with his shoulder and stumbling to the ground next to Mercy. He noticed she was having trouble keeping her hair out of her face, so he did what he could to help out. They fell asleep on the floor.