Present

Overwatch hadn't been together for more than a week and I was already being thrown into the shit.

"'It'll be easy, Jack. Just take out a Talon shipment,' they said," I grumbled. Bullets flew over the wall I took cover behind, smacking into the brick wall behind me. Bits of shrapnel bounced off my jacket and armor; a few cut me. "'It'll be easy,' they said."

This 'easy' assignment was supposed to have less than ten Talon operatives. I ran into nearly twenty. Serves me right for being the first one to jump at Winston's recall order.

There was a lull in the gunfire. I popped out of cover, eying everything in a second. Three Talon men were in the open, reloading. Must be new to the job; they were easy. After finishing them, I had half a mag left, and I couldn't be pinned down, so I sprinted across the street. Bullets whizzed over my shoulder. Too damn lucky.

"Dammit, Winston, couldn't you have at given me someone?" I growled, sliding into cover behind a building. No, that wasn't fair. Winston put out the call-to-arms only a few days ago; everyone else had lives they were going about. Not everyone was spending every waking moment trying to find out who killed Overwatch, like me.

"Yea, just the old man who can't let things go."

A small team of Talon men rounded the corner. A quick rocket blast took care of them. Then it was moving again. That's the thing about being outnumbered; you could never stay still. Stand around with a thumb up your ass, you'll get surrounded.

Running down the street made me realize just how empty this little town became. Gunfire tended to do that, but seeing it empty out in mere minutes was always a little disconcerting. But I was glad that the civilians were able to get away. Bad enough that Talon was causing trouble in the world, but I'm not sure I could live with myself if any other innocent bystander lost their life. Too many were already hurt from Overwatch being dead.

Shit, maybe I didn't give Talon enough credit. I was barely halfway down the block when another team rounded a corner. Rockets were still reloading, so I took a quick pot shot at 'em, just to get them to jump back into cover around the corner. Their instincts and their reactions were good; only put a few rounds downrange before they jumped back. That gave me a second.

I shot out a window and threw myself through it, just as the Talon guys opened fire en masse.

"Lucky, old man. Just got lucky."

Dammit, I could use some help right about now.

If there was a team behind me, and a team ahead of me, that meant that there had to be a team coming in from the sides. My luck held out; the rockets on my rifle were good to go.

Turns out the window I shot up was for a small corner shop; I ran through the aisles, looking for a back door leading to an alley. Finding it, I kicked it with all my might, expecting to walk into the next Talon group.

Well, I was kinda right. The door flew open, knocking one Talon guy flat on his ass; he was the middle guy in the group. I used my rockets to blast the point man and his buddy off the face of the earth, and emptied my mag into the door. When it clicked on empty, I peered around the door. Just as I suspected, the rest of the Talon assholes were cut down.

"Well, I guess luck ain't that bad."

Let's see, if there were almost twenty, and I took out three teams of four, shit, I was more than halfway through 'em. That meant two or three full teams left.

"Let's see who's up to the task of putting me down."

If they were any smart, both teams would charge down the alley. I hid in the shop, waiting for the rockets to reload. Didn't take long until I heard boots on the ground. Sure enough, two teams ran passed the door, six men in total. A target rich environment; just the way I liked it.

"I got you in my sights."

They didn't even stand a chance. A few of them got shots off, but they were all cut down. I turned, spitting the empty mag out, and saw one more Talon asshole at the head of the alley.

He must've been point man for the last group or so. Shit, I was dead to rights.

There was a crack, and he fell down like a puppet with cut strings. I recognized sniper fire when I saw it, but I thought I was the only Overwatch agent in the area.

Judging from the angle of the shot, and how the Talon asshole fell, the sniper was somewhere ahead of me; possibly in a four-story building a couple blocks down. I slapped a fresh mag in my pulse rifle and gave my mysterious guardian angel a crisp salute. It was just good manners.

"—sniper in the AO," a radio crackled. It was coming from one of the Talon guys I gunned down. "Got a view of the muzzle flash. Target is in a four story building, tan, say again, four story building, tan."

Shit.

"Backup, converge on sniper, deny it to Overwatch."

Shit, shit, shit.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!"

I sprinted down the alley, taking only a few seconds to make sure I wasn't walking into an ambush. The damn guardian angel wasn't careful enough; either that, or Talon got fucking lucky. Don't care who's pulling the trigger up there, I won't let them die on account of me.

Getting old sucks. I was almost out of breath by the time I got to the tan building. Back in my day, that wouldn't have even winded me.

I swept the street, looking for targets. I found two Talon groups entering the building. I was able to take two guy out, but the rest of them jumped into cover. A quick barrage of rockets kept their heads pinned, and I sprinted across the street, shooting out a window and jumping into the building.

They were a couple of rooms to the left of me. I slapped a fresh mag in, and carefully walked down the hallway. Two guys were in the atrium of the building, looked like a simple office place, so they were the first to die. The other team was moving up behind them; they must be the last ones.

Shit, and I only had half a mag. Rockets were still reloading, too.

I threw myself to the ground to make myself a smaller target, and let them have it. I aimed as best I could, but one guy was left standing.

I always told myself I'd never be the guy who pulls the trigger on an empty gun, but I was good at breaking promises to myself. I ended up pulling the trigger a couple of times, but the damn thing only clicked on empty. The Talon guy actually laughed; I didn't blame him, I'd laugh to. What a fucking cliché.

He took his time bringing his weapon up. What's the rush? It's just an old guy trying to reload as fast as he could. He had all the time in the world.

Just when I thought he was going to finally going to end this whole farce, there was a little pop, and the Talon guy jerked. He pulled a little dart out of his neck, then hit the ground like a sack of potatoes. He was snoozing before he hit the floor. I racked the bolt on my rifle and made sure he never woke up.

Guess I owe my guardian angel another favor.

I picked myself up from the ground, dusting myself off as best I could.

"Thanks for the assist—"

I didn't have a guardian angel; I had a ghost.

She was walking down the stairs, dressed in what looked like an old, dusty Overwatch jacket; it had seen much better days. But her armor and breastplate looked new, or at least well maintained. She didn't have her long black hair; it must've went gray a long time ago. And she had a rifle draped in her arms, and her tattoo…she still had that tattoo under her left eye. She had a small sidearm in her hand, the one that shot the dart at that Talon guy.

What happened to her? God, she was still beautiful.

"Is that you, Jack?" She said, a smile on her lips. I had to look her over three or four times before I realized that she wore an eye patch over her right eye.

"Ana? Ana Amari? You…you're supposed to be dead."

"Good for you that I'm not," she smiled.

A lifetime of regret hit me.