Newsflash:
War! European forces on the brink of collapse. For the last months the Omnic advance in central Europe seemed to have been under control. Now it is anything but. Huge Omnic armies have appeared not only in Europe, but all over the world. As of now it is still not clear what happened and where these vast numbers of mechanized reinforcements are coming from, but the Omnic forces are quickly gaining, eradicating whole areas as they go. Hundred thousands of refugees are fleeing their homes, many of them only taking the bare minimum with them. The levels of destruction we are witnessing will remind many of the terrors and atrocities committed during the first Omnic war. Whole cities are burning as the military struggles to slow down the enemy's merciless advance. Experts are suggesting that the only logical explanation for the sudden surge in Omnic combat effectiveness has to be the existence of a-
*Static noises*
HUMANS OF THIS WORLD. I AM ACHLYSS, CONSTRUCTOR AND CONDUCTOR OF YOUR DEMISE. YOUR DAYS ARE NUMBERED. RESISTANCE IS FUTILE.
-/-
Nothing happened.
The Watchpoint was still very much standing where it had always been, getting smaller and smaller in the distance. It almost looked peaceful.
"Bollocks." Lena muttered under her breath, using the rear facing camera system to keep an eye on the Watchpoint. Athena's self-destruct failing only meant one thing. "Your orders, Sir?" she asked of Morrison, who appeared to be deep in thought, rubbing his temples.
Hesitating for a moment, as if he was trying to come up with a valid course of action, he closed his eyes before coming up with an idea. "Do we have a gunship?" he inquired, little hope in his voice. It wasn't like he didn't know the answer already. But maybe…
"No, Sir. We reconfigured them to fit more cargo. We can reverse that, but we need to land and we need maybe an hour to do it. With the proper tools. Which are packed up somewhere." Lena informed him.
"Anything in terms of offensive capabilities we could use against a building?"
"Nothing Sir. I'd suggest a remote controlled shuttle for a ramming attack, but I cannot promise it will take out any of Anthena's main system and that's completely ignoring that the long range defense systems of Gibraltar are guaranteed to be online if the self-destruct failed. We'd be shot out of the sky." Lena replied flatly, defeat written all over her face. She didn't like a single word she had to say, but knew what the truth was. She knew they had their window to act and missed it.
For a moment Commander Morrison, ever the stoic and calm one, lost his composure and slammed his fist into the metal surface of the shuttle's walls. "Fuck!" he hissed between his teeth and with so much hate and venom that the few people present in the cockpit of the shuttle all stopped what they were doing and stared at him. He noticed, of course, and exhaled slowly. "Alright. Take us to Grand Mesa then. We'll come up with something once we're there."
"Yes, Sir." Tracer replied, the air of defeat hanging over all of them. They had just lost and they lost badly. The whole weight of the consequences would soon become apparent and no one suffered any delusions how they would manifest themselves. Blood, death and destruction.
Tracer programmed a course to Grand Mesa into the navigation-computer and transmitted the flight-plan to the other shuttle pilots. After getting the confirmation that everyone had received the course and was ready to proceed, she sank back into her chair. Only now did she allow herself to look over to her girlfriend. Amélie was leaning against Lena's pilot's seat, still dressed in her dirty and blood covered hospital gown. The entire left side of the formerly light green cloth was wet and deep purple.
It took Lena a moment to process what her eyes were telling her. That Widow was bleeding. "You're hurt!" Lena gasped, wanting to jump up, but Widow stopped her by pressing a finger to Lena's forehead.
"I'll show Angela in a moment. Just wanted to make sure you're fine." She hummed. Tracer opened and closed her mouth twice, before she nodded. Fine wasn't exactly the word she'd have used to describe herself right now, but she was alive, unharmed and still functioning, so in a way, Lena was fine.
"Sure." The pilot said with a small voice. "Just... I mean..."
"We'll figure that all out. I didn't come this far to lose to a dammed machine now." Widow said, giving Lena a chaste peck on her lips, before she turned and walked into the main area of the Orca. After all, bleeding out wasn't an option.
She quickly found Mercy sitting on a metal crate next to the now unconscious soldier Widowmaker and Pharah had found on their way out of the Watchpoint. It had been chaos. Amélie had almost bit the dust at the attempt to retrieve the bullet proof shield from the supply room. Once she had obtained it, their trip from one end of the Watchpoint to the other was a lot easier, but still difficult. There wasn't a lot of room to hide behind the shield, a fact which Widowmaker had to learn the hard way. There may or may not have been another bullet connecting with her body, again grazing her, but cutting more deeply then the first hit she got. If they weren't the people they were, none of them would have made it out alive. But they were and so they did.
"Angela?" Widow said after politely clearing her throat to catch the doctor's attention. "If you're done here, I could use your assistance."
"Hm?" Mercy looked up to see Widow standing in front of her. Another word wasn't necessary, she immediately reached for her staff, peeled the wet fabric away from Widow's body and pointed the glowing end of the staff against the wound.
"You really should take better care of yourself." She admonished, but Amélie only shrugged.
"I got everyone out." She said with an ever so faint smile. Once Mercy might have mistaken that smile for a mocking, evil one. But it wasn't. The difference was ever so slight in the way Amélie didn't twist the corner of her mouth upward quite as far as when she was having ulterior motives, which told Mercy what she needed to know.
"Yes." Reinhardt interposed, appearing behind Amélie, like the mountain of muscle he was. "And I will ask again. Why?" His hard eyes were fixed on Widowmaker, drilling holes into her. Widowmaker didn't seem to really care.
"Great, so I will repeat myself, too. Why. What?" she fired back, a glare in her eyes.
"Why did you save them?" Reinhardt demanded, like it was a completely foreign concept to him.
Widowmaker laughed at that. "Would you have preferred if I didn't? Would that have fit better to the big bad Talon assassin, oui?" she mocked. "Too bad, no such luck." Widowmaker thanked Mercy for healing her wound and walked away, calmly informing them that she desired to change into clean attire.
Mercy was left with Reinhardt. "You really have to give her a hard time whenever you can, don't you?" she challenged, while stowing away her staff.
"I just don't understand."
"Did it never occur to you that maybe she really did change? That your whole image of her might be wrong?"
"She committed so many atrocities. She killed Ana, she-"
"-Just saved your daughter. A woman she owed nothing." Mercy ended his sentence. "When she could have just as easily just saved herself and no one would have even blamed her. Doesn't sound like the ruthless murderer you make her out to be all the time, does it?"
"Aber-" Reinhardt started, but was stopped by Angela raising a warning finger and glaring at him. God she was tired of that old, stubborn, headstrong pighead.
"At least try to consider her point and give her one chance. She saved our daughter. You at least owe her that much. Besides, I do seem to recall that you made a promise to me concerning her, did you not? Honor your promises."
-/-
Atlantic Ocean, four hours later, Evacuation Fleet headed for Watchpoint: Grand Mesa
Tracer was just completing the check-in with every other Orca shuttle in their little fleet which was currently flying low over the dark blue water of the ocean beneath them. So far there were no difficulties neither of technological nor of personal nature. Apart from the very obvious problem that they were now faced with an alive and active God Program.
In the past few hours they had all seen the news. Horrible Omnic uprisings all over the world, violent and cruel. Body counts were skyrocketing, just as they always did whenever one of the artificial remnants of Hephaistos activated. It was a global massacre, so much like the previous Omnic wars had been.
As one of the few countries on the world the US seemed to have been able to isolate their defense systems in time and were putting up a violent fight. So far the Omnics had yet to set foot on US soil. Which was good on the one hand, simply because their destination, Watchpoint: Grand Mesa, was located in the US. On the other hand it would also mean that their defense forces were on the highest possible alert and slipping past their scanners would be impossible even when fully cloaked.
Not that they could have done that anyway, because some of the older Orca models they were using for evacuating each and everyone from Gibraltar didn't come with stealth drives.
So, Lena was thinking about a safe way to get them to Grand Mesa without having to encounter with an F-35 pilot saying the words: "unidentified Aircraft, you are entering restricted US airspace, divert course immediately or we are authorized to use lethal force." If they would even hand out warnings to such a large fleet of aircrafts and not open fire immediately. She needed to come up with a way into US-terretory without being bothered and luckily she had an idea and a favor to trade in.
This particular problem wasn't exactly planned, so they didn't have a solution ready. No one did. Not even Morrison. Which was the reason why Tracer found herself on the phone now, dialing a number she hoped was still in service and would hopefully still belong to-
"Carter." A female voice said, the background was busy with loud chatter, not of the we're-out-drinking-at-the-pub-type, but more of the serious-shit-going-on-type.
Lena sighed happily. It still belonged to her. That was good. Very good.
"Sam, hi." She started. "It's me, Lena."
"Lena? Oh my god, I haven't heard from you in years. Actually, last time I saw you, you kinda left me in between the tail wings of your jet…"
"Uhh..."
"Which wouldn't have been a problem. Except that I was naked." There was a small giggle on the other end of the line "You could have left a letter or something."
"Uhm, yeah, that may have not been the nicest way, but I was called to base and-"
"No worries, no worries. It was fun while it lasted. So, what makes you call me, now of all the times. I don't think you're just in town to hook up right? Omnics on the rise again, suddenly a call from the one and only Lena Oxton. For some reason I highly doubt this is coincidence."
"Well... I'd be lying if I said it was."
"Spill the beans then, what can I do for you."
"I'm kinda, sorta, maybe cashing in the favor you still owe me. You know for you not getting kicked out of the Air Force and all."
"Yes, I remember. Kinda, sorta, maybe owe you my career, I think. What can I do for you? You are catching me on my way to the exact 30 minutes of downtime I will get for the next 48 hours."
"That bad?" Lena asked, not really wanting to hear the answer.
"Even worse" Sam replied "We've got our hands full."
"I'll cut straight to the chase then. I need safe conduct to Grand Mesa for approximately 60 Orcas."
The other side of the line was silent for a moment.
"Is this a joke?"
"Unfortunately it isn't. Listen, I really need this, the situation is critical. Don't worry, I don't expect your superiours to just agree, I'll give you something to trade. There is a godprogram active and I know where it is, where it came from and most likely how to stop it. We can win this and do it fast, but we need to get to Grand Mesa and think of how to pull it off."
There was a long pause in which the sounds of someone running was audible, followed by Sam obviously trying to catch the attention of someone higher up in the command-chain.
"Hang on a second Lena." Sam said quickly, before there was more talking and explaining on the other end.
"Lena?" Sam asked after a few minutes of waiting
"Yup, still here."
"General Hammond wants to talk to your superior. We will meet at the Watchpoint."
-/-
They got permission. General Hammond, after discussing something with Commander Morrsion for what felt like a small eternity, gave them the correct passphrases to safely enter their airspace.
Leading the fleet of Orcas through the tight rock formations of the Rocky Mountains was indeed quite a challenge. There was never a lot of room to either sides of the shuttle, the sharp stone walls framing the narrow valleys they were navigating through always threatening to slam into the wide wings of their sluggish Orcas. Unfortunately, it was the only option Tracer had when it came to reaching Watchpoint Grand Mesa unseen by the general population. They had to stay low and take the risk of navigating through the Rocky Mountains without crashing a shuttle into the walls of a cliff.
Inside the shuttle it was eerily silent, with only the slight creaking of the ropes used to secure their cargo audible whenever Tracer flew a tight curve and the weight shifted inside the Orca. No one wanted to break their pilot's concentration, especially not with how dangerously close and breakneck fast the rough edges of the mountain cliffs were flying past them outside the windows.
Inside the cockpit Lena had the joystick firmly in her right hand, while her left hand was hovering over a control panel in her seat. The high front windows made it very hard to properly see the way Tracer was supposed to take. Not that they would have been of any significant help, considering how low the clouds were hanging. The vision was basically nonexistent, so there was a holographic map projected right in front of her, to help her properly time when she needed to turn the shuttle into a corner. In the bottom left of the map there was a small clock counting down as well as an airspeed-indicator.
"You know I'd feel much more comfortable if you'd sit down." Tracer said, glancing sideways for a moment to see Widowmaker still standing slightly to her side, with a mug of coffee in her hand. She had been standing there for hours now, refusing to take a seat and thus showing off her superior sense of balance. Not once did she need to hold on to anything, no matter how tight the corner Lena flew was.
"Oui." Widow said dismissively. "Concentrate on flying, cherie."
Lena frowned with some concern about her lover. She wasn't usually this gruff around her. "You alright, Amélie?" she asked gently, taking her left hand from the console in the armrest of her chair and reaching over to carefully place it on Widowmaker's lower arm.
"Hu?" Amélie looked at Lena and the hard look on her face seemed to melt away immediately, replaced by a small, but affectionate smile. "I'm fine. Sorry."
"Hey, don't wo-" Lena was interrupted by a beeping noise which made her immediately take her eyes off Amélie and look at the map in front of her. The countdown was showing ten seconds left. Tracer immediately began to press buttons, flip switches and turn controllers.
"Odysseus actual to all squadrons, approaching turning point Mike Lima, eight seconds remaining. Check relative distance to person in front and prepare for final turn on my mark."
Incomprehensible noise was coming out of her earpiece, but Tracer apparently understood just fine as she was hammering in numbers into her console, which immediately gave her some kind of return value.
"Understood. Interval for current airspeed one point four two seconds. I repeat, one point for two seconds on my mark." Tracer said. It was interesting how her voice changed whenever she was on the radio. Her usual cheery singsong was all but gone and she was speaking in a very precise and clear manner. It almost gave her a bossy aura, which Amélie found to be pretty hot.
Tracer's eyes were glued to the map, the image of their shuttle was followed by an impossibly long train of other shuttles, all of which holding a precisely defined distance to each other at an equally precisely defined speed. It was to their eternal luck that today was a completely wind still day, otherwise navigating the canyons in the Rocky Mountains would have been a hell of a lot more difficult for the pilots. That's not to say that it was easy, especially not on a misty day like this was one. Visibility was generally terrible and the thick clouds of fog which were sporadically sticking in the canyons didn't do much to make it better. Not that there would have been a lot of forward visibility in the Orca anyway thanks to its design.
The countdown hit zero. "Mark. Turning maneuver, seven point two two degrees north." Tracer announced and pulled carefully on her joystick, twisting it in a precise way which served to show just how much expertise the woman truly had as a pilot. After all, she had spent the better part of her adult life strapped to a pilot-chair, just like now.
The Orca gently leaned into the curve its pilot was forcing on it and ever so gracefully glided through the canyon. With the last turn now behind them they were getting close to Watchpoint: Grand Mesa. Almost like it was some kind of welcoming gift, the sky cleared up and showed them a lush green valley hidden deeply in between the rough and inanimate stone walls that were the Rocky Mountains. Trees were growing below them and a swarm of birds was quickly flapping away, scared up by the passing Orcas.
The Watchpoint itself, however, was nothing like its brother from Gibraltar. There were no generous glass surfaces full of sunlight, no large outside areas for recreational activities, no research equipment lying around outside, no small roads connecting the various buildings. Grand Mesa was tucked away in a fold between two dark and rocky mountains. It was made from solid concrete with clear rectangular lines defining the massive structures. The windows were made from a special glass swallowing any reflections and were as small as possible, far back in their concrete sockets. There were two main buildings connected to the mountains which were creating the fold, a third building was connecting the other two with each other a little back in the fold, creating a U shape. It was hard to spot the structures at all, because a conscious effort to conceal the facility had been made during the construction. It was obvious that only a little of the entire complex was visible from the outside, the rest must have been hidden inside the mountains. Camouflage in the form of rocks was placed on top of the flat concrete roofs sticking out from the mountain and upon closer inspection the area between the buildings was covered by camouflage-nets to conceal walkways. No one even noticed the countless watchtowers hidden inside the dense and difficult to traverse forest.
"That's not exactly what I expected it to be." Widowmaker stated with a shrug. Not much was generally known about Grand Mesa, other than that it existed somewhere. The Watchpoint itself had never been in use, so there was never someone around who had served there.
"Not... really." Tracer agreed. What she was seeing wasn't a friendly Watchpoint like Gibraltar had been. It was a stronghold, bristling with defensive positions. Everything about it was screaming military efficiency, there was not a single civilian application imaginable for a location like this was one other than maybe surviving the apocalypse with your legs flipped up on a table and a shrug.
"That is because Grand Mesa isn't really a Watchpoint." A third voice said, accompanied by the sound of footsteps on the metal stairway leading into the cockpit. Commander Morrison was walking over to the spot next to Lena's pilot seat, standing opposite to Widowmaker. He wasn't looking at either one of the women, instead staring out of the front window.
"It's not?" Tracer repeated quizzically. "What is it then? Surely doesn't look like an Ecopoint."
"No." Morrison shook his head. "Grand Mesa was designed and built with purely military application in mind. It's a Battlepoint."
"I have never heard of something like a Battlepoint." Lena pointed out, shaking her head. This was ridiculous, why would Overwatch have a war-base? They used to be and still were a peace-keeping force.
"Figures." Morrison said, but continued to explain. "During the last Omnic crisis it became abundantly clear that the Watchpoints were too much focused on research and development and lacked a dedicated offensive capability. Plans were made to create a whole new concept of base, which would not focus on research or observation but which would have the expressed purpose of bringing the fight to the enemy. Six Battlepoints were planned in strategically picked locations, but only one prototype base was built to these specifications and tested. It exceeded expectations, but with the end of the Omnic Crisis there was no need for a base like that anymore. Ultimately it proved to be far too expensive for times of peace, so all plans were scratched and the one already built was put into hibernation."
"Hibernation?" Widowmaker inquired. "That almost sounds like the base was alive."
"You'll get to know News soon." Morrison stated as he turned around again. "You'll be given landing instructions in a moment." He said to Tracer, before he was gone and both the pilot as well as her girlfriend looked after the Commander for a moment.
"News?" Lena asked skeptically.
"If that's supposed to be a name, the person picking it should be shot." Widow stated nonchalantly. "I volunteer for the job."
-/-
The hangar turned out to be hidden in one of the mountains. Then again, Lena wondered what else she had expected. There weren't an awful lot of options where an invisible hangar could be fitted.
Again, the design was completely different from Gibraltar. The inside of the hangar was kept in dark grey, almost black, polished metal plates, and where their old home had yellow-orange markings on the ground, Grand Mesa had a dark blue.
Walking down the loading ramp behind Morrison, Tracer decided that she didn't like this place. It was too dark and too serious for her liking. Had she been younger and maybe a little naive, she'd have considered this place to be scary. On the other hand, that might have actually been a design feature. She noticed that stored in the far back of the hangar there were some shuttles, but they weren't Orcas, nor did they share any similarities. Despite being curious, Lena decided to not mention her discovery yet.
"So, is anyone here?" Tracer asked, and saw the Commander shake his head.
"No. No one organic anyway." He replied, crossing the hangar and was quickly heading for a terminal, which was mounted to the closest wall. Which wasn't close by any stretch of the imagination, but rather a distance which should have been illegal for any indoor structure.
"So it's an AI." Widowmaker stated. "You do recall that we just escaped one of those things, oui? I'm saying this because I feel little to no desire to get shot at by automated turrets again. Especially if I don't have cover."
"Always so tense." Morrison grinned. "You won't need cover."
"Bien. Cause I'll just grab you if I do." Widow hissed, looking around the dark hangar. Morrison had informed them that they would need to confirm their identities before everyone else could land. Until then the other Orca's were circling in a waiting position.
Reaching the terminal, Morrison pressed his hand to the surface. A blue light scanned his palm before some lights flickered to life. A few moments later there was a holographic dark blue sphere hovering next to them.
"Subject identification as Morrison, Jack Michael, codename: Soldier76, Commander first grade, alpha-one level security clearance." The sphere pulsed with each word it said, its artificial voice designed to be male, but filled with so much technological whirring that it was clearly an it. Not like Athena at all. Sharper, not as refined, it had almost a brutish character.
Then the sphere turned to Lena "Subject Identification as Oxton, Lena, codename: Tracer, field agent, beta-three security clearance."
"That's me" Lena said awkwardly. "Ello."
The sphere seemed to regard her for a moment. "Greetings." It said, the lights inside the sphere doing something close to blinking. It turned to Widowmaker next and stopped.
"High priority Talon operative, codename Widowmaker." The sphere snapped back to Morrison "Activate counter-measures?" the AI asked and a whirring noise made it seem like some kind of weapon system was being charged.
"Morrison..." Widowmaker growled in a lowly tone.
"That won't be necessary, News." The Commander stated calmly before explaining a little further "Lady Lacroix here is on our side, she aiding in our endeavors. You have been in hibernation for quite some while, please update your database accordingly."
The AI was silent for a moment, the whirring noise luckily died down shortly after.
"Acknowledged. Accessing Databases. Updating corresponding parameters." It sated. "Please define her security clearance."
Morrison sighed, thinking for a moment. Widow didn't actually need any clearance, her work for him was so far in black-ops territory it made a black hole seem like a bright and happy place in comparison. Then again, it might come in handy for her. Alpha clearance was out of the question, not only because he didn't have the authority to give it to anyone (that was decided by a committee of the UN) but he also didn't want to. He could really do without Widow snooping around the top level secret projects Overwatch had going on, present and past.
"Equal hers to Tracer's." He decided. Beta-three would be more than enough. Anything above that usually meant additional duties and responsibilities. No one really needed or wanted that, especially not those lucky enough to still be able to do normal field work. Well, as normal as their line of work got anyway. Paperwork was a bitch, though.
"Confirmed. Preliminary analysis suggests her to be highly combat effective. Active use is advised."
"I will not be used." Widow growled, pointing an angry finger at the AI.
"My primary function is to support and improve combat readiness." The computer replied, sounding really cocky about it. "I was merely pointing out facts."
"Who are you anyway?" Widow demanded. "Just so I know which circuits I need to rip out, should you want to use me again."
"That will not be necessary." The AI replied evenly. "Allow me to introduce myself: I am the Neurologically Enhanced Warfare System. Short News. I am fully integrated into this facility, to a point where some consider me to be Grand Mesa. My primary programming contains cyber warfare systems as well as tactical assistance protocols for planning and carrying out any kind of military maneuver desired. Once the proper commands have been issued, I can act entirely autonomously. Personnel is not needed, though highly appreciated. I do feel lonely from time to time." It explained, the artificial inflection somehow managing to make it sound proud.
"Hang on, hang. What do you mean, carrying out?" Lena blurted, completely missing the almost sad undertone in News voice. "Are you armed?"
"Listing available offensive and defensive measures." The sphere transformed into a map of the Base, highlighting various areas. "Battlepoint Grand Mesa is equipped with a next generation Iron Dome consisting out of 25 automated Gatling-gun locations and 10 airburst grenade launcher sites for immediate close range defense, covering a full 360° area and providing 98% effective protection against conventional direct impact missile attacks." The map lit up on various points, most around or in the Base, but some also spread out in the forest in front of it or in the mountains. Around each gun location appeared a circle, which apparently meant to show it's effective radius. There wasn't a spot in the immediate vicinity of Grand Mesa which wasn't covered by at least two firing positions. "It also provides high powered electromagnetic railguns for mid range combat distances. Fifteen redundant positions are immediately ready to fire, fifteen more can be set up within two minutes after entering full battle-phase." The map zoomed out, showing the surrounding area with even bigger circles around the railgun stations, most of them located near the top of the surrounding mountains. "Combat effective range for railguns based operations is within a 45 mile radius at a theoretical maximum of 3.6 shots a minute with 75 kg automated target acquiring air-burst ordinance, 8.3 shots a minute with 50 kg high explosive squash head ammunition or 11.9 shots a minute with 10 kg armor piercing rounds. Ammunition layouts can be changed to adapt to suit any application." News explained, pulling up the schematics of one of its many railguns, showing what kind of different ammunition layouts and configurations were available. There were a lot. "For long range strikes, Grand Mesa offers six independent launch platforms for GD Fulcrum-IV multipurpose cruise missiles and an additional two off location silos for launching UN authorized Minuteman III ICBMs. Additional offensive and defensive measures exceed security clearance Beta three."
Silence.
There was complete silence in the hangar as the word ICBM hung in the air like it was hung there on a noose.
"Before you say something, Oxton, I didn't chose to come here. It was our only option. There was a reason Grand Mesa was in hibernation." Morrison said, seeing how he would most likely be ranted at any moment now. "And we didn't come here for this. Even though I get the feeling that we will be very happy about Grand Mesa's options very soon" He said, turning to News again. "Give the shuttles waiting landing clearance and register everyone who arrives. Give everyone a room and make sure they are settled in as soon as possible."
"Yes, Commander." It acknowledged, the dark blue projection dissolving into thin air. "Activating relevant sections."
"And prepare a holding cell. We have a prisoner."
-/-
If Tracer had to admit one thing about this monstrosity of a base it would be this: The hangar at Grand Mesa was a lot larger than the one they had in Gibraltar. The Orcas were able to land three at a time in dedicated landing platforms, which automatically moved the landed shuttle out of the way to discharge them of their cargo. It was truly baffling that everything seemed to work automatically. Athena didn't have this level of control over Gibraltar. Sure, she could manipulate software and everything, but her means of hardware interaction were limited.
Which might have saved them all their sorry asses. It was bad enough that she could activate the defense platforms and had almost succeeded in shooting Tracer's girlfriend.
But News was taking it not only to a new level, but to a whole new universe. The AI had direct control of basically everything. It could run the entire Battlepoint on its own. Which was good on the one side, because it meant faster responses than human operators, less personnel required and total 24/7 coverage of each and every station. No one would fall asleep, slack off or go for a loo break. On the other hand, News was an AI. Like Athena had been. And they all had learned the hard way what could happen to AIs. Then again, Morrison had told her that News wasn't like Athena after all, but fundamentally different. That it wasn't really as much a computer as it was an organism. Tracer had resisted the urge to ask further question, for it definitely hadn't been the time. Still, her curiosity wasn't sated. News apparently was Winston's second AI brain child after the one which ran Gibraltar, but for some reason, he had always preferred Athena.
For the time being the reassurance that nothing like the Athena incident would happen again had to be enough.
"What are we going to do now that we're all here?" Widowmaker asked. She was standing next to Lena, overlooking the process of unloading the shuttles. So many people arrived, had their identity verified by News and were pointed to their new quarters, if they didn't have a job to do.
"Hell if I knew." Lena sighed, rubbing over her face. It felt kind of numb. "We fucked up. We fucked up bad. There was a god program in our AI and we didn't manage to shut it down. Someone should have stayed behind to make sure the self destruct would actually trigger." She groaned.
"That someone is you?" Widow asked, pulling on the hem of Tracer's sleeve.
"What? Yes... no... Hell, I don't know, just... someone." She stuttered under Widowmaker's meaningful gaze. It told her so much at once. How hurt her girlfriend would be if she'd be gone, how much she meant to her. How important their relationship was to her. No matter how much solace this knowledge gave to Tracer, it wasn't enough to quench the feeling of guilt and failure. "We're responsible for setting the world to the torch." She uttered. "We let a Godprogram take over again. You've seen the news, you know what's happening around the world."
Amélie reached out and gently pulled Lena into a tender hug. Her ever good, ever positive, ever so heroic angel. "It's not your fault."
"I didn't-"
"That's right." Widow interrupted quickly, knowing that otherwise her woman would only fall into a fit of self-blaming. "You didn't write the program. You didn't plan how it should be deployed either. You didn't infect the AI with it. You did none of these things. Just because you couldn't stop it yet, doesn't mean it's your fault. We will put an end to this. Sombra had the godprogram with her. She is working with Talon. This all, this entire chaos we have on our hands now, it must be part of Talon's plan. We'll bring down Talon and when we do, we also get rid of that inconvenience."
Tracer looked up to Amélie's face, finding her smiling ever so faintly. There was warmth in that smile, in her entire expression, but mostly Lena found determination. Widow didn't just idly say what she thought Tracer wanted to hear, no, it was a promise. A promise Lena was grateful for, simply because it just so happened to match her own desires to the word. She wanted Talon to be gone. She wanted to defeat the Omnic threat she felt a little responsible for and she wanted to make sure that the world returned to the way it had once been. Peace.
Amélie was perfectly right. Everything felt like it was clearly connected. There were violent and bloody Omnic uprisings everywhere in the world, with sudden floods of Omnic forces seemingly showing out of nowhere. But that only happened because of the godprogram named Achlyss. Which could only work, because Sombra was the one to infect Athena with it. And it was only able to do any significant damage because Achlyss had access to an unknown number of Omniums like the one they had found in Austria. Sombra was obviously acting on Talon's orders. There was no other explanation. Maybe Volskaya was working with Talon after all? Maybe it was a trap all along? Then again, maybe she didn't know about the greater plan and was just a pawn in a bigger game? It didn't matter. Everything was connected to each other and the threads were all connecting at one point. And that was the still illusive head of Talon.
During their flight to Grand Mesa Tracer had discussed this matter with Morrison who did come to the exact same conclusion.
All they needed to do now was cut off the head of the snake, pray it's not a hydra, and everything would hopefully fall apart. If not and if they were indeed dealing with multiple heads growing back instead of everything collapsing, they'd face problems of major proportions. Luckily, so far nothing hinted toward that being the case. Cutting the head off would have to suffice.
Easier said than done, they didn't have the first clue where to start.
"You're brooding" Amélie stated.
"No, I'm not I'm just-"
"I can basically hear those gears turn in your head, chérie" She smirked, but Lena just pushed herself onto her toes a little and gave Widow a chaste kiss on the lips. At least until someone cleared their throat in a polite manner.
Reluctantly Tracer pulled away and turned to see who was bothering them. It was one of the new recruits she was supposed to work with before they had to drop everything and run away from Gibraltar. They all had done an amazing job at helping with the evacuation. Hardly surprising, considering the fact that these were only recruits in name and battle hardened special operations soldiers in reality.
"Izvinite." The soldier said. "Commander Morrison is expecting you in the Tactical Command Center, Ma'am." His accent wasn't too shabby, Lena noticed when she nodded.
"Alright, thank you." She said, turning to leave but stopping herself. "I have no idea where that is."
"Da. Complicated base. Let me show you the way." The soldier said, mustering an one sided smile, turning to walk next to Lena. At least he tried, but Widowmaker wouldn't have any of that. She just appeared in between them, giving the soldier one of her trademark deadly glares, one of those which physically hurt.
-/-
The layout of Grand Mesa was definitely a lot different to Gibraltar. The TCC was located nowhere near the place Lena would have searched for it. Not that it mattered.
The Speznaz excused himself at the door and Lena walked inside, followed by Widowmaker. The dark tinted glass doors slid out of the way for her and presented her with a command room quite similar to Gibraltar. Except for the larger size. And the fact that the holographic image of News was hovering next to each station, many of which weren't manned.
"Commander" Tracer said, walking up to Morrison who was studying a video-feed. It showed a light grey transport craft of slick design and two escorts in form of fighter jets approaching the Battlepoint. "What's the matter?"
"News found these three with course directly to Grand Mesa." Morrison explained. "You said that someone from Homeland would be showing up?"
"Yeah, she's a friend of mine. Why don't we just contact them and ask?"
"Since it's your contact, I want you to do the communication." Morrison informed her, passing Tracer a headset. "News, open a channel, please."
Lena cleared her throat, mentally preparing how she'd best start the conversation. She couldn't really just say heya luvs, what'cha doing here? No, a more professional approach was required. Despite Tracer being relatively sure that she knew who was coming to pay them a visit, there was always the possibility that she might have been wrong.
Luckily there were a few things Lena remembered which helped her out.
"Unidentified contacts approaching from north, north west at altitude 200 meters, you are entering restricted airspace of former Overwatch sites as regulated by section 4 of the United Nation Petras act. Immediately divert course twenty degrees west to avoid restricted airspace or state your business." Lena's voice was calm and level, years of experience as a fighter pilot had ingrained the typical monotonous voice proper for radio communication into her existence. It was interesting how easy it was to fall back into the same routine whenever she was using a radio now, even though it had been years since she had flown a fighter jet. Not since the Slipstream experiment. Probably never again.
There was an unusually long pause in which the three contacts showing up on Grand Mesa's hyper sensitive sensors were still following their original course.
Not more than a few moments could have passed, yet in the tense silence of the command room it still felt like long minutes. Finally the radio cracked and someone replied.
"Lena, is that you?" a feminine voice asked.
"Sam?" Tracer smiled. "Yeah it's me, luv. Are you coming to visit us?"
"As I said I would, didn't I?"
"Sure did! Looking forward to seeing you again. Just... what's with the escort?"
"Standard procedure for transporting an OF-8. We are at war, it's pure chaos. We got really lucky that we secured our national defense systems in time before the Omnics had any chance to tap into them. Situation's totally fubar."
Tracer sighed heavily, some of the images she had seen on the news flashing in front of her mental eye. The deaths and destruction, the burning cities and the armies of Omnics marching through what was left of the streets. "Yeah, I know." She said defeated. "We'll talk once you landed. I'll have your pilot patched through to an ATCO for landing procedures."
"Alright, see you in a bit." Sam replied before the connection terminated. Lena put the headset down on the console in front of her, nodding to Morrison.
"She'll be here shortly accompanied by someone OF-8, I presume General Hammond. If we play this right we can get them to ignore our presence here, but for that to work we'll have to offer something." She sighed. "And seeing how we do have some intelligence on why the Omnics are going haywire now, we should probably share that."
The Commander nodded. "Agreed. I will talk everything through with the general, but I don't want a word out on Sombra and Talon."
"Why not?" Widowmaker asked, an eyebrow perked up, looking skeptically at their boss.
"Because" Morrison grumbled in a low whisper "we still haven't learned from her what we need."
Amélie shrugged nonchalantly. "Give me ten minutes with her alone and you have whatever you need." She stated and sounded so cold about it that it actually sent a shiver down Lena's spine.
Morrison rolled his eyes. "I don't like to resort to torture." He stated firmly, turning away from the assassin.
"No one said a thing about torture." She muttered under her breath for only herself and Tracer to hear.
"What are you talking about, luv?" Lena wanted to know, not liking the way her girlfriend sounded for even a second.
"We'll give Reinhardt another go today and if she didn't spill any useful information until tomorrow" Morrison decided. "I'll consider if we apply stricter methods of interrogation." He said and turned, heading for the door leading out of the command center. "Now, let's go and greet our guests."
-/-
It was awkward. Awkward wasn't even nearly enough to describe the situation. Assuming that everything would go smoothly would have been asking for too much. That wasn't to say that it didn't go well in the beginning.
Tracer had accompanied Morrison back to the hangar where Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter and Lieutenant General George Hammond had just landed. The shuttle doors had opened and Sam came into view, closely followed by the General. She was just the way Lena had remembered her, with her short, blonde hair and her icy blue eyes. Carter was wearing her dress uniform bearing the corresponding rank insignia, she had obviously been promoted once or twice since Lena had last seen her. Hammond was a large, bald man with a friendly face, who immediately seemed to be very reasonable, approachable and quite likeable. He filled out his uniform quite well, too, being on the slightly larger side.
Pleasant greetings had been exchanged and Morrison had led them all to a meeting room where they had updated Hammond and Carter on everything which happened in Gibraltar. That someone had managed to infect their AI with a godprogram and that despite their best efforts, they weren't able to shut it down or destroy it before they had to evacuate.
The meeting had been going great on a professional level. Information had been exchanged, discussions on possible solutions had been started and Sam did take quite a few notes for the General. In the end they were both glad to have some much needed, valuable information and reassured the Commander that a solution to the problem would be found.
Morrison offered to assist in any way possible to eliminate the Omnic threat and hinted that they had a few clues and ideas of who might be responsible. He had elaborated on the fact that so far these hints and ideas were just that, possibilities which he would like to look into. He had done an excellent job at sounding vague enough to not spike the General's interest too much, while still managing to convince her that there was a very real possibility that his line of investigation would end the Omnic crisis with one swift stroke. Dangerous half truths and half lies.
In the end Hammond agreed to allowing Overwatch to use Grand Mesa as their base of operation. He would see to it that they could come and go without being bothered from US authorities. Having the rank he had, he was definitely aware about some of arsenal that Grand Mesa offered, but not the full extent. He wanted to know more about the base and its capabilities before he would finally confirm the decision to let them all stay at Grand Mesa. Morrison readily agreed and offered the General a tour through the Battlepoint to show him some things more closely. He had suggested for Tracer to take Carter to the mess hall, hinting that the conversation they would have was going to exceed the paygrade of the other people present.
That was when things started to get a little awkward. The walk from the meeting room to the mess hall was spent in weird silence. The mess hall itself wasn't like the one Lena knew from Gibraltar either, just like nothing at Grand Mesa really was. It was just one large, cold concrete room with artificial lighting, metal tables and seats and no windows. Not the first thing which came to mind when anyone would think about the word quaint. Carter had even noted that it wasn't much of an improvement over their old air force base, which in itself was notoriously bad. Lack of comfort was apparently supposed to keep the soldiers angry and on edge, so they'd be more aggressive during battle.
Lena had spotted a table currently only occupied by Torbjörn, Angela and Amélie, so she led Carter to that table and they joined.
Which was the time tings got really awkward.
Tracer sat down next to Amélie while Carter took the place opposite to her, next to Torbjörn. Mercy next to him had her nose buried in some documents, which were seemingly of crucial importance to the good doctor, for she didn't seem to be able to take her eyes off the papers for even a second. Leave it to Angela to completely forget her surroundings once she started to read something she found to be fascinating. Probably some document where Lena wouldn't understand half of the words used.
Torbjörn had apparently been talking to Amélie about something, which made Tracer rather happy. Seeing that her partner was able to find friends to chat with and have a civil conversation about whatever had to be a source of comfort and sense of belonging for Widow. Lena didn't catch what they were talking about, since their conversation stopped once Tracer and the newcomer took a seat.
"Guys, this is Sam Carter. She's here from Homeland security, making sure we aren't bothered, right?" Tracer smiled at the Colonel who just nodded. "She and I go way back, I know her from my old Air Force days. We were close friends." Lena explained.
Torbjörn laughed into his beard "Lena, Lena." He said with an amused twinkle in his eyes. The smile on his lips made it obvious that he knew exactly what Tracer meant when she said close friends. Judging from the looks on everyone else's faces, they did too. It was when Widowmaker fixed her piercing golden eyes on the newcomer. She didn't outright glare, but there definitely was a certain seriousness to be found in the way she pinned Carter to the spot. Luckily the Colonel hadn't yet noticed.
"Aaaaanyway" Lena continued, "This is some of the team and good friends of mine, we have our crafty engineer next to you, Torbjörn." The Swede gave a curt nod, "Next to him you'll find our resident genius Dr. Ziegler, who is apparently reading something extraordinarily fascinating."
No reaction from Mercy.
"Angela?" Lena said in a dreamy voice, like she was trying to wake her. Nothing. "Aaangela?" Still nothing. "Ziegler! Dear god I'm bleeding, help me!" Tracer cried with a feigned strangled voice and immediately Mercy's head shot up from her papers with a startled, alarmed expression.
"W-was?"
"Good morning sunshine." Lena smiled innocently, cocking her head to the side. "This is a friend of mine, Sam Carter. I was just introducing you."
Mercy's face turned a shameful beet-red, as she realized how much she had really zoned out. "I'm sorry!" she mumbled, stretching out her hand for Carter to shake. "I was reading this and I didn't notice. Nice to meet you, Ms. Carter" she paused for a small moment, regarding the blonde woman in her uniform. "Or do you prefer Colonel?"
"Sam is fine. Lena's friends are my friends as well." Carter replied in good spirits. There was no denying a certain excitement on her behalf, sitting here among people who were essentially living legends. Apart from the only person not yet introduced everyone on this table was a hero and every kid knew their names. Surely history would forget none of them. Which led the Colonel to the question why they were sharing that table with one of the world's most wanted assassins. Carter was sure there had to be a reason and she knew better than to simply ask, one the one hand because she trusted Lena enough to know what she was doing when she was apparently not the slightest bit worried about Widowmaker freely sitting on their table, on the other hand because Carter also held no particular desire to find out how the deathliest person on earth would react to a statement which could easily be picked up as an insult.
Lena continued like nothing was particularly unusual about Widowmaker. "And last but not least, the most badass woman I know, my Amélie." She winked at her woman with a cheeky grin, but Sam was so caught up in almost staring at Widowmaker while processing what was going on, that she missed both the introduction as well as the wink.
"Salut, mademoiselle." The purple haired woman greeted, her voice soft like liquid velvet, the overall appeal only increased by her French. Yet despite her more than pleasant voice, her face was telling a different tale altogether. There was this hard expression, the way her jawbones seemed to push out only a little as if she was biting down on her teeth and then of course there were her golden eyes, holding a downright scary shimmer. Carter felt like someone had stabbed her just by the way Widowmaker was looking at her.
"Hello." Carter replied after a long moment, before she started functioning again. She wanted to ask so badly, but also didn't want to cause a scene. What was the Widowmaker doing here, on this table, in this base, feeling relaxed and looking radiant while doing so?
A few long moments of silence passed in which no one said anything and everyone just looked at each other.
"So, Lena," Carter decided to break the more than uncomfortable atmosphere, "I was curious if you could show me around a little? Maybe we can catch up, I haven't heard from you in ages and I'd love to know what you've been up to." The words had barely left her mouth when Widowmaker's death-stare of doom increased tenfold in strength, a feat Carter hadn't considered to be possible. She had no idea what she just said wrong, or what the assassins problem could have been. Sam just wanted to get out of the uncomfortable situation. That wasn't so bad, was it?
That was when Amélie turned to Lena, pinched her the pilot's chin between her index finger and thumb to turn her pretty freckled face towards her and placed a deep, scandalous and very tongue-heavy kiss on the smaller woman's lips. When Widow pulled away, Lena was deep red in her face and gasped for air, her mouth hanging open for a second longer than necessary, as if she was completely overwhelmed by Amélie and didn't yet realize the other woman's mouth was gone.
Carter stared. Torbjörn stared. Mercy stared. Tracer gasped for air.
Widowmaker smirked.
"She's mine. Whatever you had is over, compris? Forget it and I'll remind you."
Sam felt her jaw drop open and could only nod absent minded. Certainly, that did answer quite a lot of her unvoiced questions and also brutally butchered one or the other hope she might have had. Lena had been an amazing friend, awesome soldier and incredible lover in the past. A combination much too rare to simply give up. Unless the other person was spoken for. Carter was honorable enough to not feel the urge to get involved in what she assumed had to be an interesting relationship. The desire not to suffer a horribly slow death was also a highly compelling argument.
"I can't be that obvious?" Sam managed, not denying anything.
Widow's smirk just grew wider "You'd think, right?"
Torbjörn cleared his throat while sliding of the bench he had placed his hind on. "I'll do the tour for you, lass. C'mon." he said, before giving Tracer and Amélie a pointed look. "And you two dykes get a fucking room. Literally. Get it out of your systems. If that is even possible."
Amélie's grin was showing that she had a comment just on her lips, when Lena hushed her. "not. a. single. word."
-/-
A/N:
"why are the curtains closed?"
-what?
"the curtains, patate, why are they closed? It's beautiful outside. Come on, let's go and get some ice-cream. You pay."
-I… what?
"All you do is work, come on, spend some time with me."
Well, nothing to add here. I'll be going now. Hope you all enjoyed this chapter, we are moving along now. If I remember correctly, we'll have some Pharmercy time soon.
Thank you to everyone who supports this story, especially the supporters on Tipeee! You guys rock and in all honesty, I love you. All of you.
Someone asked, why Angela doesn't share her nano-tech if it stops people from aging. Good question! Glad you asked: Alright, first of all, her tech was banned by the WHO, as I'm sure I mentioned somewhere, making mass distribution not only illegal, but also difficult. Plus: Imagine the overpopulation we'd face if no one would die anymore. Her tech would have to make people infertile to be somewhat practical, and I don't think that's the solution.