I

Captain Fareeha Amari, call-sign, Pharah, of Helix Security, was helpless. Stripped of her armor, her men, and even movement. Her companion, Dr. Angela Ziegler's once white armor was now smeared with brown ash and red blood, and she was carrying Fareeha on her shoulders, her footsteps each growing heavier and weaker than her last.

Fareeha wished that Angela would just drop her, save herself, but that just wasn't in the doctor's nature. Fareeha couldn't imagine what was going through the doctor's mind. She thought back to the slaughter. Angela had told them. She'd told them that it was a horrible idea. The Omnium's defenses were too strong for them the way it was, and with Talon attacking from the other end, it was made hopeless. But it was all they had. They were the only two left.

Fareeha's Raptora combat armor would have given them a better chance of escape, but it was destroyed. Not that she'd have been able to use it, as doped up as she was on painkillers. Angela's Caduceus staff, normally capable of healing any wound, had also been damaged, rendering it useless.

Exhausted, Angela finally fell to her knees, dropping Fareeha onto the dusty, ashen glass. The glass didn't break, it just felt like a rock hitting Fareeha's face.

"Doctor," rasped Fareeha, rolling over onto her back. She was going for strong, but her hoarse voice wouldn't make it so. "You have to go."

"No," Angela snapped. She got back up onto her trembling legs. Pushing herself again to her very limit. One day, Fareeha knew, she would go too far. It might be today. "No one else dies tonight."

A rattling shriek echoed through the dusty glassed craters. Fareeha and Angela alike snapped to attention.

"One of them followed us," said Fareeha. She grabbed the grip of the pistol on her hip and tried to stand, but she failed, dropping on her injured side. Another blast of pain pulsed to her head and another to her torso where the dust invaded her wound.

Angela propped her back up against the smooth wall of the crater, "You're too drugged to stand, much less fight. Stay here, Fareeha, I'll check it out." The doctor's warm bedside manner hadn't taken any hits from the dreadful situation. Fareeha wondered how she did it.

"What will you do? You're not a fighter, Doctor."

Angela shrugged, nervously watching the shadows. "Hell of a way to start, no?"

She jammed her staff into the ground next to Fareeha, then took out her pistol. It was her own design, intended to be stored and concealed completely in her armor. Angela looked out over the edge of the crater. Fareeha heard skittering, and loud clanking. She knew what was coming.

A single sharp metal arachnid leg stepped over the edge of the crater, followed by seven more appendages attached to a cockpit housing a desiccated skeleton, hanging several feet above the ground. The empty missile pods on the sides of the chassis glowed, swirling green and purple, blinking like eyes. When it noticed them, it advanced relentlessly, making that same horrible shriek as before. The cockpit dropped open, like a bellowing animal's jaw. The corpse inside it's 'mouth' jerked about in its restraints before the cockpit slammed back shut, snapping off its leg.

Angela shot the 'body' of the creature to little effect, only managing to make black energy burns on the hull. Fareeha did the same from her sitting position, the tungsten projectile passing through harmlessly. It appeared that the robot didn't care at first, but it quickly targeted Fareeha, raising one of its bladed limbs above her.

With a flash of green and white, the leg dropped to the ground, and the monstrosity squealed in a facsimile of pain. Its leg had been cut straight through.

A silver being stood on the edge of the crater, wielding a sword with a green edge. Genji. He'd survived too. With three more leaping slashes, he removed the other appendages. Just when they though it was done, a blast of blue fire consumed the immobilized remains, and Fareeha saw another figure on the edge of the crater, a red visor shining in the dust.

They came down into the crater at once.

"Ziegler." They both said. She recognized the newcomer's voice immediately, despite his hidden face.

Fareeha's mouth dropped open in shock. "Did… Jack Morrison just save us from a zombie tank? I think you're right, Doctor. You may have given me too many drugs."

...

Doctor Angela Ziegler. It had been years since she graduated medical school, but something about that title still made her giddy. Ever since she was a child, the medical profession had captured her mind. The practice of finding and applying new ways of saving lives was something that never lost its charm or nobility.

She checked herself over again. Everything in place. This had to go perfectly. She had the job, that wasn't in question, but she found that first impressions were invariably important. She wondered what the wide-eyed child Angela would think about what she was on her way to do. This empty train was taking her to an island off the coast of Gibraltar, one claimed by the neophyte organization known as Overwatch. Even the name was slightly ominous.

Joining the ranks of those who considered themselves the watchers of he watchmen wasn't a decision she liked, or one she made lightly, but it was the right one. She could run a non-profit cancer clinic in a third world country for her whole life, it wouldn't have mattered for her. But that would have meant that she wasn't at the fore. She would have been fighting a symptom, when she had an opportunity to learn how to stop the cause. That was truly unconscionable.

So she'd play their game. She'd take whatever rank they gave her, play soldier for a while. She knew it might not be easy, but she could maneuver around the structure, maybe even do some long-lasting good.

The train came to a stop, and she took one last long breath before opening her eyes and entering the fray. She stepped off the train. The Watchpoint was one large white building, as tall as a skyscraper against the breezy tropical beauty of the island. She imagined a painter committing this image to canvas. What would he think? Of this melding of industry and nature, of dueling mights of men and fauna. Maybe her poetry electives stuck with her better than she thought.

"Dr. Ziegler," someone said, pulling her fully out of her reverie. "It's an honor to introduce you to the headquarters."

It was Supreme Commander Jack Morrison, at his side was his second, Special Vice-Commander Gabriel Reyes. It wasn't the first time she'd met the two, but it was the first time on their turf.

"Guten tag," she said, slipping into her native tongue. She stuttered for a moment at her silly mistake, recalibrating her mind back to English.

"Guten tag, Frauline Ziegler," said Reyes warmly. Angela blushed and looked down.

Jack scolded his second jokingly, "Couldn't wait for a chance to show off, could you?"

Reyes only smiled. It wasn't an interaction between dueling administrators vying for authority, it was skirting the limits of professionalism. They were just friends. The air of intimidating propriety from their previous meeting was gone.

"Good morning," she said in English. She was so far out of her timezone that it felt like the furthest thing from morning. By saying it, perhaps she thought it would start to feel that way.

Reyes extended his hand with a friendly smile. Something bothered her about the Vice-Commander, but she couldn't put a finger on it. She took the hand and shook it.

"We thought we'd give you the tour personally," Morrison said, putting forth his own hand. "I was going to take a walk anyway, make sure the kids are behaving."

Reyes gestured with his hands in an exaggerated manner that spoke, 'be our guest.' And Angela followed.

As they passed through the yard, Angela saw soldiers going through… Drills, she thinks that's what they were called. Sweaty men and women crawled through mud like beetles. A simply colossal man with a white mane and beard watched and encouraged them to move faster.

Morrison must have noticed that Angela was staring.

"That bother you or something?" Reyes said. His tone wasn't the least bit accusatory. It as like he was commenting on the weather.

Angela wanted to speak her mind, but worried she might seem ungrateful.

"Nothing to be ashamed of," said Morrison. "A standing military like this rubs a lot of people the wrong way. Hell, even our people." Morrison explained it like a father explaining why the butterfly wasn't moving anymore.

"You're… the one who said it, I suppose," Angela said, she moved her hand up to brush her hair behind her ear, but there was no hair out of place.

"I don't like it," Morrison said. "Peace is all I want. War is shit, but someone's got to do it."

"We're not at war," said Angela. "I- I didn't mean…"

"He knows what you meant," Reyes said. He pointed out to the field. "Reason we have all this, is because some people don't. They don't have a strong military, but they have military problems. Terrorists, rebels. That's where we come in. We can get in faster than anyone. UN sanctioned peacekeepers practically overnight."

"People who couldn't get help otherwise," Jack said. "They can have power and defenses thanks to what we do."

Angela paused, her knuckles pressing into her lips. Violence was unacceptable. That hadn't changed, never would. But the world had. Governments were thrown into disarray by the Crisis. Who knew how many maniacs were vying for power, looking to fill the void that was left. Overwatch filled that void instead. Angela believed that there must be a way to maintain stability that didn't involve gun-barrel diplomacy, she had to believe that. But maybe they really were doing the best they could.

"Hey Reiny!" Reyes shouted. "You're a shit drill sergeant!"

Morrison chuckled, and half-heartedly teased, "Out of line, Reyes."

'Reiny's' belly laugh could be heard even from across the yard. He gestured with a thumbs up and started shouting at the recruits again. These people didn't act like any military unit she'd ever heard of. They'd never once treated each other like anything but brothers. Angela wondered if the Overwatch that she'd seen on the news, the one the world saw, was a mask. One to show the public to be symbol of hope and stability. A mask for the UN to show a group capable of decisive strength. They were people, Angela realized. People doing whatever they could think to do in service to better future.

For a moment, Angela smiled in earnest. Maybe Overwatch wasn't what she thought it was. Maybe working here wouldn't be as bad as she thought it would be.

...

Jack carried Fareeha and followed Angela back to the camp. At several points during the journey, Jack was certain that Fareeha's gaze passed over Ana Amari, her mother, who was walking beside them. Every time, though, Fareeha looked away and made no comment, as if betting that seeing her dead mother watching over her was a drug-induced hallucination. Once, Jack thought he heard Fareeha mutter, "Go away. Back to sleep."

Jack wasn't sure he'd have reacted much differently. He hadn't considered this. He knew that Overwatch would, at some point, cross paths with Fareeha. Fareeha would find out that Ana wasn't dead. He should have thought of it, but he didn't think it would come up so soon.

Not many were left in the camp. The security operatives that remained equaled Jack's team in number, 6. The first stop was the infirmary. It was a sizable trailer bearing the logo of Helix Security International, colored metallic sky-blue. Dormant repulsor jets on the underside informed Jack that it was capable of moving. These days, governments could fly in entire military infrastructures in a night. Not wanting to crowd the place, Winston thought it best if most of the team stayed outside. Jack asked Ana if she'd like to come. To his surprise, she shook her head. Jack made a mental note to talk to her later. Jack and Winston followed the women inside.

Angela sat Fareeha down on a bed and gave her a biotic syringe. Her wounds closed nearly instantly. No matter how many times Jack saw that, he wasn't any less impressed. Without skipping a beat, Angela plopped the broken Caduceus staff onto her tool bench across the room and set to work. Winston followed her over, recommending tips for making her tech more durable. She smiled and nodded, though completely focused on her task.

"No rest for the altruistic, huh?" said Jack.

"Can't afford to be," said Angela. "We don't have a lot of time."

"Then I'll make this quick. We need you back."

Mercy chuckled, stopping. "And there it is."

"You see what's happening out there," Jack said, "Talon's turning peaceful places into combat zones indiscriminately. They're tearing the world apart. We need every hand we can get to stop them."

"So not that much different from thirty years ago, is it?" Angela said.

"No, I don't think so," said Jack.

"What is it you plan to do?" Angela swiveled her stool around, facing Jack and standing. "After this crisis is abated? Dissolve again and let world affairs take their course? Or are you going to try and take over again?"

"Take over?" said Winston. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Jack's brow furrowed invisibly. He wondered whether the mask hiding his emotions helped or hurt him. But this was strange. Overwatch never tried to take over anything. That was Reyes' anti-establishment propaganda talking. Angela wasn't stupid enough to buy that, was she? Jack stayed silent, letting her make her case further. Argument was about listening.

Angela stood. "After the Crisis, the UN just couldn't stop giving Overwatch more funding, more autonomy, more power. Signing away freedom for security. Supplemented of course, by your less-than legal activities. The confiscations, bounty hunting, etcetera. At the end of its life, Jack, did you realize that Overwatch had enough military might to challenge countries?"

Winston painfully defended, "We… Didn't. We never had any intention to do anything like that. Jack would never do that."

Angela tilted her head to the side briefly. "Perhaps not. But Jack wasn't going to live forever. We assumed, anyway. But your successor? His successor? Somewhere down the line, Jack, someone would have abused that power. That is, of course, conceding to the notion that you never did."

"Angela, that's enough," Jack said.

She spoke to Winston. "Why don't you ask Jack, hm? Ask Jack what happened in Japan. While you're at it, ask where Captain Amari got her rifle."

"Jack, Winston," said Fareeha, "I… think it's best we leave this for another time."

"I think you're… I think you may be right.

Jack left the building. Angela was being delusional. He'd always known that the doctor was opposed to the military origin and resulting structure of Overwatch from day one, before she even joined. She took a leap of faith and confidence to even enter the fold. Jack wanted to prove to her more than anything that despite its origins in war, Overwatch was a force for peace. He could see an outsider being paranoid about Overwatch's intentions, especially after Reyes did his best to defame the organization, but her? She was the furthest thing from an outsider.

Jack, still puzzling this over, was intercepted by Genji. And Jack remembered.

"You tried to get her to come back, didn't you?" the cyborg said. His mask had become a second face, somehow translating his concerned expression underneath. But maybe that was just Jack's imagination.

"That obvious?" Jack said, wondering if his own mood was just as readable to Genji.

"I have been trying for days. And I have become very well acquainted with that particular disappointment."

"She's…" Jack started. The memories weren't stopping now, he wished they would. He got the picture. "She's still hurt. By… Well…"

"By me?" Genji said, his tone carried not a hint of sharpness. "By what was done to me?"

"Yeah," Jack said, scratching his scalp. "What are you doing here?"

"I have been traveling," said Genji. He didn't seem to mind changing the subject. "Talking to people. Hoping they will join us to fight whatever is coming."

"Us?"

"Overwatch."

"Huh. You're the last one I thought would be trying to recruit for us. Considering everything."

Genji's mask emoted nothing now, but his voice was calm. "I am a different man now, Jack. I am whole."

Jack clicked his tongue. He wished he could say the same. "Is there… There's got to be some hope, right? I haven't dug myself that deep, have I?"

"Forgiveness is something that is not demanded, won, or even earned," Genji said. His light tone of personable arrogance slipped into an almost sagely reverie. Genji was right. He was different. "It's given. Some do, some do not. It is her decision."

After Jack didn't speak for a few moments, Genji hesitantly went on his way. Jack thought about everything. If the situation with Angela and Genji, and their difficulties on the battlefield weren't enough, now there was her and himself, and Ana and Fareeha. Jack had walked into a terrible situation like he'd owned it, then found out he hadn't, and turned a bad situation into the worst it could probably be. And now Winston was saddled with untangling it.

Goddamn it, Jack thought. I am an asshole.

...

Angela had heard it said that a visitation from her was the medical profession's equivalent of the circus coming to town. Her procedures were light-years ahead of any other facility, so utterly state-of-the-art, that doctors took such a visitation as a chance to watch a master at work, taking as many notes as possible. She told herself that these advances she'd made weren't the result of anything she was that anyone else wasn't. She just happened to be the doctor who Overwatch liked very much and gave a lot of money to. She let them have their angel, though. Morale was important when they were surrounded by the dying.

In Angela's heart, she wanted to be there for every patient, but she couldn't be everywhere at once. So, she determined to travel as much as possible. When she heard of the special project Morrison and Reyes were running jointly in Japan, she used it as an opportunity.

Like many nights, the Hanamura General Hospital was quiet and calm. One man was enough to change that. When he'd arrived, he was little more than meat and tubes. His innards were practically paste. If she had to guess what caused it, she'd say a magnetic shrapnel explosive detonated inside his body. A small fleet of machines were performing his bodily functions in place of his demolished organs, keeping his brain alive. Even that wasn't going to last long if his internal bleeding wasn't stopped. No one knew if even she could do it. She didn't know herself. But she had to try.

The next hour was a focused rush. Angela managed to get him stable, but just barely. His organs had to be replaced with synthetic ones, his torso bones with carbon fiber equivalents, both raided from Overwatch's top-secret storage. She didn't technically have the clearance to use that kind of tech on non-Overwatch personnel, but she wasn't about to let bureaucracy kill a man. Even so, widespread damage had already occurred to his nervous and muscular systems. He'd live, but without further treatment, he'd never walk again.

The other doctors had to practically drag her out of the OR. They said she should rest before doing anything else. She disagreed, but she let them have their way. After removing her blood-stained scrubs, she slumped in the comfy chair in her office and felt like she was sitting on a cloud. Even if she wasn't operating, that didn't mean she had to sit about doing nothing.

She booted up her computer, and began typing out a formal request to Overwatch command. "Rrrequessittioning extra ssuppply off-"

Angela stopped and squinted at the input on her screen. She finally looked down at her hands, trembling too violently to even type, with rings of barely dried blood on her wrists. Her eyelids felt suddenly heavy, as if they were reminded by her fingers of how tired they should be. She sunk deeper into her chair. Maybe they were right, Angela thought. Maybe a quick rest would be fine.

An instantaneous knock on the door woke Angela up. Or would have, if she'd gotten a moment to sleep.

"Come in," she mumbled. Or tried to. She sounded like a drunk. "Come in." She said again, clearer and louder.

The two men that entered were men Angela knew well. Supreme Commander Jack Morrison, and Special Vice-Commander Gabriel Reyes. They were both starting to get streaks of grey in their hair, but their bodies showed no sign of slowing similarly. She wondered briefly if the scientists at the Soldier Enhancement Program were aware of all the little changes their planned changes made to their physiology.

"You have time to talk, Doctor?" Jack asked. Though Angela suspected from the tone of his voice that it was a good idea for her to make time. He'd gotten more like this in recent years. More demanding. Angela wasn't happy about this, but she sympathized. Stress was probably turning the Supreme Commander's hair grey faster than old age.

"Of course," Angela said, "come in."

Morrison and Reyes stood in the room, both glanced at the visitor's chair briefly, but neither claimed it.

After a moment, Reyes sat down easily in it, as if he owned it. "Doc," he said.

"I'm glad you're here, actually," said Angela. "I needed to ask you both for something."

Reyes raised his eyebrows in amusement, but his eyes were hollow. Reyes' facial expressions, no matter how animated, never seemed to make it to his eyes. After all these years, it didn't bother Angela anymore, at least not consciously.

"It wouldn't happen to do with your star patient, would it?" Reyes said.

Angela was sure she understood, but she asked for clarification anyway. "Who?"

"The one you diverted practically every hospital resource to within the past hour," Reyes explained. He flashed a personable smile. "I keep tabs on that, you know."

"I plan to divert a few more," Angela said, "I need clearance to use Overwatch classified prototypes. It may be the only way to let him walk again."

Morrison and Reyes nodded to each other in some unspoken secret code. "You'll get it," said Reyes. "On a few conditions."

A blaze of anger rose in Angela's chest. She resisted the intense urge to call them out for putting a price on a man's life. That wasn't what they meant. Couldn't be. "Conditions?" she asked, calmly.

"He helps us bring down the Shimada clan," Jack said. "We help him, get him back on his feet, and he helps us."

Angela knew she was missing a crucial detail. "Who… Who is this man?"

The two heads looked at each other again, Morrison looked confounded, Reyes like she hadn't said anything unusual at all.

"That's Genji Shimada," Reyes said. "He's our hope. He's the guy who gets us deep enough into the clan to cut off its head."

"Forcing him to turn against his own family in exchange for his life? There's another way," Angela disagreed. "We don't have to resort to blackmail."

"Extortion," corrected Reyes, conversationally. Morrison winced slightly and rolled his eyes. "Blackmail would be revealing secrets, not withholding resources."

Angela took a moment to catch her breath. "And you're okay with it either way?"

"This is what needs to happen," said Morrison. "We offer him the deal. We give him the surgery in exchange for his help."

Angela put her face in her hands, smelling the metallic dried blood on her wrist. It mixed with the tight feeling of fear, and of guilt. This wasn't what she wanted. She signed up to save people, not extort them.

"I can't," Angela said. She was about to explain further but Jack leaned forward, startling her back upright. For the first time, she saw something scary in his eyes. A thousand-yard stare that pierced through her. Even Reyes seemed shocked.

"Let me tell you what can't happen," Jack said. His voice was suddenly very low. "This war can't keep going."

"We're not at war," Angela asserted, but Jack talked over her.

"There is a fucking war on, Angela. You don't see it because the victims don't come here, they go to the morgue. Understand? People are dying out there and we have a chance to stop it. You aren't keeping your hands clean. You turn this down, more people die while we wait for another chance. Those people will die because of you."

Angela's jaw loosened, her throat grew tight with dread. She could barely believe he spoke those words. She couldn't find fault with the motivations, but with the act itself. "Just… Jack listen to yourself," she said. "Who are we? Who do we become if we do this?"

Jack didn't hesitate for a moment. "We are the glue that holds the world together. That hasn't changed. We're whatever the world needs us to be. You don't like it? I don't like it. None of us do, but this has got to happen. This has to end."

Angela was quiet for a while. She'd been a fool for thinking she'd escaped this. She'd let herself fall into the trap, become comfortable on the adder's nest. Was this who she was now? Who she was being forced to be? "I'll talk to him," she said, looking up. She did it, not that she'd arrived at any decision, more out of placation and worry. She needed time to think, to rest. Time to wake up, in case this was just a bad dream or paranoid hallucination.

Without so much as a final comment, Jack left, breathing heavily. Reyes stayed, realizing he'd forgotten something. "You'll get your clearance," Reyes said, like that was what mattered, then followed his commander.

Outside, Gabriel said something Angela couldn't quite hear, putting his hand around Jack's arm. Morrison jerked it away and said something loudly, something like, "I got it done." And he stormed away.

Looking back, that might have been the start of everything.