Author's note: Sorry for the long wait, I've been going through the emotions lately. And I just wanted to be there to inform you all I'm back in the saddle. So let's get to it.
[Somewhere in the Kansas, USA]
Reinhardt, a man stronger, bigger, and tougher than any other stood above the people of a small town somewhere in Kansas. He was known for casting a huge shadow over anybody he walked near, and was built like a tank. It was no wonder why people thought he was related to a local town soldier.
He had read his file to know he was well known to be the team's muscle bound brute. He was known for lifting objects ten to twenty times his weight and size. He could only imagine what this man could look like in his mind.
His trip to his home was relatively short journeyed, given the size of the town he was settled in. The house he saw was small and rather, looked to be a house you'd raise a child in. He was confused to say the least due to the size of the neighborhood as well.
When he approached the front door he saw that he'd barely fit through the door. As he knocked on the small door he was unexpectedly met with a woman no older than himself. He greeted her in a rather low voice, "Hello, ma'am. I..." He started.
She covered her mouth, "What did he break this time?" She asked in a worried motherly tone.
"Eh, what?" asked a confused Reinhardt.
"Let me just give you a check and we can leave the police out of this." She pleaded.
"Actually ma'am, I'm here to talk with a Michael J. Caboose, that's all." He said.
"Oh...well, please come in." She said opening the door.
As Reinhardt entered the room he saw a rather normal home setting. As he passed through the living room, he saw a wall with markings for every year of a child. What caught him off guard was the fact that the markings went up to 6 ft 10 in by the age of 14.
He followed the woman into a garage where a man was working under a truck with one side lifted in the air. She called to him, "Joel, someone's here to meet Michael." She said as the man began to slide out.
"Okay Pamela." said a man under a truck. He got out and dusted himself off, "Hello sir, can we help you?" asked the small man facing Reinhardt asked.
"Yes sir, I am looking for a man by the name of Michael J. Caboose, is he here?" asked Reinhardt.
"Of course he's right-" He turned around to see his son holding up the back end of the truck in the shadows, "-Caboose you can drop truck now."
The truck dropped with a tremendous slam as the tall figure was slowly walking towards Reinhardt. The old strong man braced for a fight as he balled up his fist prepared for the worst. But when the figure approached the light he wasn't expecting to see what he saw.
A taller version of the man the file said he was, with blonde hair and blue eyes stood staring at him. He smiled as he spoke, "Hello, I'm Caboose, can I help you?" He asked politely.
His manners left Reinhardt confused, "Um, yes you may, but can I have a word with your parents?"
Michael nodded, "Okay. Dad can I watch cartoons?" Caboose asked.
His Dad, "Sure thing son." said as his gigantic 7 ft 3 in son walked to the front room.
Reinhardt still confused and baffled, "That's Caboose?" He asked.
Caboose's mom nodded, "Yes, that is, I know his size makes him seem like an intimidating kid but he has a heart of gold, and the imagination of a child." She said.
Joel looked down, "When he was drafter into the war it frightened me. But he told me that he had a fearless leader to look out for him, his best friend." He said.
Reinhardt looked back at the parents, "May I talk to him." He asked.
"Sure." The mother said.
As Reinhardt went to the child-like man he felt like Torbjorn when next to himself. He noticed he was drawing something and looking back at the TV screen rapidly. Reinhardt grew curious, "What are you drawing?" He asked kneeling on one knee next to him.
Caboose looked up to him, "Oh just a picture of my heroes." Caboose said innocently.
On the drawing he saw a cobalt soldier with what looked like a sniper rifle, but next to him amazed him. He saw huge dark figures that were too familiar to him, even a mile away he would recognize it. Reinhardt commented, "Hey, I know that one, that's a Crusader, isn't it?" He asked.
Caboose looked up to him, "Yep, they're the strongest ones there is. One day I hope I can be like one of them, but they're all German, so I don't think I can be a member." He said looking down.
Reinhardt felt a sense of honor come to him, "Who says that? You can be whoever you want to be. And all you truly need to be a Crusader is to be strong, fearless, and a shield." He stood up inspiring Caboose.
Caboose looked up at him, "You really think so?" He asked.
Reinhardt looked down, "Of course, as a matter of fact, I myself am a Crusader." He said in his hearty voice.
Caboose looked at him with stars in his eyes, "You are?" He asked.
Reinhardt smiled, "I am. My name is Reinhardt and I'm here to ask you a question," He paused for a moment to remember something once said to him, "Will you be our shield?" He asked Caboose.
Caboose jumped up bringing the old man into a bear hug, "Yes! I will! I will be your shield! Who's shield will I be?" asked Caboose.
Reinhardt looked back at him, "Overwatch, will you fight with me alongside as a member of Overwatch?" He asked.
His Mother entered the room, "Wait, I thought any and all actions regarding Overwatch was illegal." She mentioned.
"But mom..." Caboose begged.
"No, I won't let my son fight in another war after what nearly happened to you." She said.
"Please madame, the world needs him." Reinhardt begged with Caboose.
His Dad even agreed, "I'm sorry but if he gets in trouble, much more hurt, we can't live with that." He said.
Reinhardt looked down, "I understand." He turned to the door, but looked back at Caboose, "Farewell, friend." He said as he was walking out the door.
Caboose looked at him with tears on the verge of entering his eyes, "He called me friend." He said.
His mother and father looked at him, "Oh son," his mom started, "I love you, and I'd hate to see you get hurt," She said like any other mother.
His Father came up next to his shoulder, "But, we hate to see you sad even more." He said as he picked up his son's chin.
His parents shared a look, "Go on." his mother said.
"Really?" Caboose asked.
His Dad nodded, "Give those bad guys hell." He said.
[5 minutes later on the way to the airport]
Reinhardt rented a pickup truck, as he was driving back to the airport to the private airship. He had one hand on the wheel as he slumped on the left side of the door. He was unaware of a large object approaching his right side, something big and fast.
"Mr. Reinhardt!" yelled a voice from outside.
Reinhardt looked left then right to see who, none other than Michael J. Caboose wearing a backpack, running alongside. He rolled down the window in amazement, "What are you doing here kid?" He asked.
"My parents said I can come with you and fight the bad guys." He said as he pumped his arms and legs.
Reinhardt reached over and opened the door, "Get in! We got work to do!" He shouted as Caboose lept into the moving vehicle. And another member was now added to the Overwatch roster.
[Somewhere in a club in Detroit]
Zarya had asked Tracer to assist her with her mission to catch the self proclaimed ladies man. She figured that Tracer was considered to be one of the most attractive member of Overwatch. So he would be over her like most of the guys in the club, probably.
They positioned themselves in strategic locations, Zarya on the opposite side of the room. While Tracer was sitting at the bar with her legs crossed together. They both communicated with each other using ear pieces they both were wearing.
Tracer went to the bar as she was being watched over by Zarya from far away. She kept the picture of the man close to her as she used it to examine every man that came her way. And let's just say, there was a never ending surplus of perverts, douchebags, and all around jerks.
Tracer was getting bored of all the attention, so much she was getting a headache. Luckily she was at a bar, "Excuse me?" She asked the mixologist.
"Yep?" He asked with his back turned towards her. He seemed to be black, with an afro.
"You got anything for annoying headaches back there, luv?" She asked.
"One Douchebag Begone special, coming up." He said as he grabbed a mixing cup.
Immediately going to work, cracking his knuckles and his neck to get loosened up. He grabbed two specific bottles in front of him, about arms length apart. Flipped them both in the air making a small stream drop the perfect amount into the tiny glass. The bottles then landed perfectly on their bottoms, completing a bottle flip challenge.
He then grabbed a lemon wedge tossed it into the air above him. Without even looking, he grabbed a plastic red cocktail sword and tossed it directly into the lemon wedge into the air. He then slid the glass down the bar, as the lemon wedge fell into the glass without a splash.
He grabbed the squirt nozzle, that had a certain drink flavor loaded in, and fired multiple times. He fired forward, behind the back, looking away, through his legs, and finally quick drawed it into the glass.
He slammed the counter making the drink fly into the air above him. He grabbed a tin tray as he held it out letting the drink fall into the center of the tray. He spun around letting the drink fall directly in front of Tracer as she was amazed at his spectacular skills.
"And that was performed without a single drop of caffeine." He said finally revealing his face.
As Tracer paused for a moment to look at the photo in her leather jacket, "Oh my God," She said, "You're...you're...you're him." She finished.
The bartender lifted his eyebrow, "Do I know you?" He asked.
"You're Tucker." She started, "I've been looking all evening for you." She said.
"Thanks but I'm not your type." He said.
"What? No, not like that." She said, feeling embarrassed, "I'm Lena Oxton, or Tracer," She introduced herself, "I'm from a secret group in Overwatch." She whispered.
"And let me guess, you want my help because you think something bad is going to happen?" He asked.
"Yeah, actually yes." She said admitting her intentions, "Please, join us." She pleaded.
Tucker wiped up his hands, "Eh, beats serving drinks to drunkards and assholes all day." He said as he hopped over the counter.
Tracer then asked a question, "Wait, how'd you know you weren't my type?" She asked.
Tucker then went down the list, "The hair was my first guess, then there's the outfit, and the cherry on top was the fact you turned down every guy. But the biggest clue was the speech, I only knew one other person who finished a sentence with luv. And let's just say he plays for the other team as well." He finished.
"Blimey, that is wicked, how you pieced that all together." She said astonished.
"Trust me, I've been slapped enough times to keep track. Not something I'm proud of." He said as he walked away towards his car.
He followed behind Tracer and Zarya until they arrived at the airport. As he went into the aircraft, he found a seat and went to sleep in his vest and shirt.
[Back With Winston]
Winston was informed that all eight of the nine members he was looking for were found. He was more than overjoyed as he was finally moving around for the first time willingly. He was still disappointed to hear no news on Leonard Church's whereabouts.
Pharah hadn't heard news about it in the Egyptian area she was located.
Torbjorn came up empty in his area of Sweden.
Genji had nothing to show for it as he found nothing in Japan.
Everyone he sent out was showing up empty handed as he grew impatient.
"*Huff* Where in hell is this man?" He demanded.
[Artic Overwatch Base: About fucking time]
Church had trudged through who knows how many miles of snow covered hills. He was finally catching a break as he was standing in front of a metal door leading to a base.
He looked into the air, "Ha, fuck you death! Not today!" He said as he reached for the handle.
He jiggled the handle to find it was locked after a few more stressful yanks. He looked down, as he grabbed his sniper rifle and aimed it at the handle. He fired multiple shots at the handle until he heard the shots go through the handle. He forced it open with his body weight as he held onto the door.
He trudged inside, unaware that something or someone was already there.
Author's note: Sorry for the long wait, I've been working on this along with a rewrite and another story that's been requested. So hopefully I'll be able to make more chapters for those stories by the end of this week, Starting Monday.Hope you enjoy.