Winston let out a grunt as he plopped himself heavily into the tractor tire that served as his computer chair, letting his body sink into it's comforting embrace and trying to ignore how the old rubber creaked unhappily under his weight. He shot the camera above his workstation a peremptory glance, as if warning Athena not to comment on his fitness regimen – or lack thereof, as the case may be. He loved that A.I. to death, but he wasn't in the mood to be nagged at after the day he'd had.

Several months had passed since Reaper's attack on his old hideout, since the call had gone out to all of the old Overwatch members. Only a few were left to respond to the call, but respond they did. He'd had to rush to find a new location where they could set up a new base of operations, one that was well out of sight of the prying eyes of the world, both the good and the evil. After all, Overwatch activity was still officially illegal. They couldn't give the outward appearance of being an organized unit again. They weren't the darlings of the world anymore. They were vigilantes now.

Mercy was one of the first to respond to the call, second only to Tracer, of course. She'd been as helpful as ever in relocating Winston and Athena to a safe place – and in finding the new location for Overwatch to gather. She'd managed to pull some strings with an old friend, who secured for them a location just outside of Geneva. Appropriate, Winston had thought, that their new base of operations should be located just next door to the city whose name was synonymous with peace and order.

Still, it had taken some time to get everything settled, and, as of today, that work was finally done. The last security systems had just been activated, the last of the paint had dried, and the new recruits had been briefed. All in all, it was more work than Winston was used to doing in a day, and he was certainly glad it was over. Now they could focus their time and energy on more important matters. Namely, Talon.

Of course, it would have been nice of the terrorist organization to give the lot of them a moment to rest before causing trouble. Winston had barely reached over to grab one of his bananas before the screens in front of him lit up with an urgent alert. He took a moment to stare longingly down at the fruit in his hand before letting out a sigh and setting it aside.

"What is it, Athena? What's going on?" the ape rumbled out, leaning forward and using a knuckle to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose so he could get a better look. The flashing red alert on the screen vanished, replaced by several windows opening up at once; a video of a live Chinese news report playing footage of a skyscraper as seen from a helicopter, an aerial map of a densely urban area, and a constantly updating feed of reports from whatever local authorities were on the scene, handily translated into English.

"There are reports of a hostage situation in the financial district of Shanghai. No demands have been made yet." came the smooth female voice of Athena through the speakers scattered across the laboratory. Winston furrowed his brows in thought.

"Hostage situation? Could it be Talon operatives?" he asked, though mostly to himself. As if in answer, a new window popped up on his screen. It looked to be security camera footage from inside the building. At first, all he saw was an empty hallway. Then, a figure hobbled into view; it was a man, tall and scrawny, wearing little more than a pair of tattered, patched-up shorts and a chest harness full of explosives. His hair was a wild blonde blaze, complete with thin wisps of smoke trailing from the spikey tips.

The man stopped in his seemingly aimless scramble down the hall, turning suddenly to stare directly up at the camera. Then, in a show of dexterity and athleticism one wouldn't normally attribute to someone with a ramshackle peg of a prosthetic leg, he leapt up at the camera, clinging to some unseen fixture on the wall as he grinned an unmistakable, manic grin just in front of the lens. Winston could practically hear the man's crazed giggling as he drew back a rusted mechanical fist. An instant later, the video was drowned in static.

"Junkrat…" the ape grumbled through his teeth, bringing up a hand to rub tiredly at the bridge of his nose. Even through the grime and soot covering the Junker's face – or perhaps even because of it – there was no mistaking the psychotic scavenger. And, what was worse, he knew that anywhere Junkrat went, his 'buddy' Roadhog was sure to follow. Winston let out a reluctant groan. He really didn't have time to play around with those two idiots, but the prospect of them being left to detonate an entire office building in one of the most densely-populated areas on Earth wasn't something he could live with.

"Prepare the dropship and alert the team. We've got to get moving before those two get someone killed."

Though the former members of Overwatch were newly reorganized, a team was quickly assembled and sent out to contain the situation in Shanghai. The old dropship, though it had just undergone a slew of repairs and needed to be disguised as a normal commercial vehicle to boot, made quick work of the trip from Switzerland to China. On board was a modest team of six; Winston, Tracer, Torbjörn, McCree, Mercy, and Mei. Soldier 76 didn't want the rookies going out on a mission like this without a proper briefing, so it was something of a 'veterans-only' party. Tracer seemed positively giddy at the prospect of going out on a proper mission with the old crew, as evidence by her lively bouncing around the cabin of the ship. She eventually paused in her bouncing for a moment to settle into the seat next to Winston, giving the gorilla a cheery smile.

"Isn't this exciting! It feels so good to be heading off to a mission together with everyone, just like the good old days!" she chirped out, swinging her legs back and forth under her seat like a little girl who'd just been told she could go to the candy store. Winston wasn't nearly as chipper about the whole thing, merely sitting there with his brow furrowed, staring intently down at the floor panels as if they were supposed to reveal some great mystery of the universe if only he looked at them hard enough.

"I'm not sure 'exciting' is the word I'd use. This whole situation feels off. I can't figure out why Junkrat and Roadhog would target a place like this."

Tracer's grin faded into a contemplative pout, her brows knitting together in thought.

"Well… Does this place have anything the Junkers would normally steal? Money? Gold? A lifetime supply of expresso beans?"

Winston answered with a small shake of his head.

"No, it's just the home office of some pharmaceutical firm. There's not enough money on-site for them to bother striking this target over any number of banks in the area, and this company doesn't keep any of their products there either, so it's not drugs they're after. The most they'll find in there are cubicles and paperwork, neither of which will do those two any good. It doesn't seem to make any sense…"

At that, Torbjörn could be heard letting out a sharp bark of a laugh.

"Since when did those two do anything that made any damn sense?" the old dwarf commented wryly. Winston let out a sigh at that, but gave a small nod of agreement. He supposed he was right. Logic was never the two Junkers' strong suit. He should stop worrying about the 'why's of the situation for once and just focus on trying to stop it with as little bloodshed as possible.

They arrived soon enough, landing atop a shorter building a few blocks down from the skyscraper in question. Luckily there seemed to be so much attention focused on the unfolding hostage situation that no one seemed to notice the small drop ship land and take off again. Winston hurried over to the edge of the building, peering up through the heavy afternoon smog to try to get an idea of what was going on up there. Police cars surrounded the building, their lights flashing around the base like a ring of Christmas lights. He could see several helicopters hovering around the upper floors. One belonged to a local news agency, another belonged to the police, but the third…

"Talon…" Winston growled under his breath, instantly recognizing the black gunship of the terrorist organization even as it ducked behind the building.

"What're they doing here?!" Tracer called out in surprise, dashing over to Winston's side. "I thought this was one of the Junkers' gigs! You don't think they're working together, do you?"

Winston let a primal growl rumble in his throat at that suggestion. The Junkers were bad enough on their own, but if they'd teamed up with Talon…

"I wouldn't bet on it."

The ape gave a slight jolt of surprise at the gruff assurance. He glanced over his shoulder, catching McCree standing behind him as he shot the skyscraper a hard stare. He pulled the cigar from his lips and, after knocking the ashes from the tip, used it to point about halfway up the structure. Winston followed the gesture with his eyes, adjusting his glasses until he could see what the gunslinger was referring to. He soon spotted it; a group of black uniformed men rappelling over from the adjacent building on freshly-sunk grapples.

"They ain't got in yet. Junkrat's been in there for, what? Good hour or so? If they was workin' with the Junkers, they'd have been in there already, and they'd have used the same entrance. I reckon they don't even know how that fool got in themselves."

Well, this certainly changed things. While the Junkers didn't work on anything close to logic, Talon was a different story. What could this building be holding that would attract both groups independently of one another? More importantly, what kind of havoc could those two wreak independent of one another? That thought seemed to light a fire inside Winston, and he instantly led the advance towards the building.

Getting in seemed a bit trickier than any of them had given thought to. They wanted to get in undetected if at all possible, but the dense ring of police and spectators was making that next to impossible. It was only by chance that, as they moved to flank around the other side of the skyscraper, Mei caught sight of a rather familiar bit of graffiti on the wall of a passing alleyway. It was a rather unsettling-looking smiley face, its bulging eyes crossed out with large X's. A brief moment of investigation found what that tag was there to mark; the lid of a nearby dumpster was laying haphazardly over a large hole in the concrete, a hole made just large enough that a certain pudgy bodyguard could squeeze his way down. Well, at least they solved the mystery of how the Junkers got in. They'd also solved the mystery of how they'd get in.

The tunnel, though it looked as though it could collapse under the weight of the street above at any moment, made for a quick and fairly direct way into the building. They emerged soon enough into some sort of basement level, but despite having finally gotten inside, it was a rather unpleasant sight that greeted them. There were packs of explosives littered all around, taped to walls and even a few fixed to the ceiling, bright yellow detonation cord stretched out between them like a hastily constructed spider web of potential destruction. Tracer just about shat a brick when she popped up out of the hole in the floor and saw it all.

"Cor blimey! He's got this place set to blow already!" she squeaked out, feeling just a tad less confident than she'd been a moment ago. Junkrat by himself wasn't even close to intimidating – hell, you could probably knock him flat on his arse with one good punch if only you got close enough to pull it off – it was his little 'hobby' that made fighting him such an frightening prospect.

Winston vaulted himself out of the hole in the floor, hoisting his tesla cannon up after him. He took but a moment to inspect the Junker's handiwork before reaching a long arm back down into the hole.

"Torbjörn, I need you to—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know." the dwarf began before the request was finished, grabbing hold of the gorilla's hand and letting him hoist his squat form up into the basement. "I'm on defuse duty."

Winston gave the engineer a nod and a small smile of thanks before turning back to the hole to help the rest of the team up.

"Alright, as for everyone else, I want you to split up and search the building for the Junkers. If you find any hostages, contact Mercy and have her attend to them."

And everyone did just that, carefully navigating through the web of detonation cord before running up the stairs to the building proper and going off into different directions. Tracer sped off ahead of everyone in a flash of blue, ending up halfway across the first floor before many even decided which way they wanted to go. It was likely as a result of this blinding speed that she was the first to spot anything meaningful through the glare of flashing lights coming from the police cars outside. She skidded to a stop when she caught movement out of the corner of her eye; a glint of steel, a shock of silver hair brushing against the ceiling, and, of course, the wide backside of an absolute mountain of a man as he lumbered down the hallway.

Roadhog had just stepped into an open elevator at the end of the hall when Tracer spotted him. He turned, and though his eyes were obscured by the dark lenses of his gasmask, she knew he'd seen her. His grip tightened visibly on the handle of the large meat hook in his hand, but rather than toss it at the meddlesome woman who surely pursued him, he relaxed his grip and merely let the elevator doors start to close slowly before him. Tracer took a few steps forward, intent on closing the distance between the two of them and slip in before the doors could fully close, but thought better of it before she could break into a proper sprint. Trapping oneself in a tiny elevator with that hulk of a Junker Enforcer sounded like a one-way trip to spending the rest of the year in a full-body cast. Yeah, no, she'll pass on that, thanks.

She let the doors close and watched for a moment as the light above the elevator lazily counted up the floors. Once it didn't look like it was about to stop anytime soon, she dashed over to a nearby door and rocketed up the stairs. As she ran, she held a finger lightly against the earpiece clipped around her right ear.

"Winston, I've found Roadhog. He's in the lift. Looks like he's headed for the top floor. I'm on my way up there now."

There was a small crackle in her earpiece before she got a reply.

'Alright. Keep an eye on him, but don't engage on your own. We'll be heading up there after you.'

Tracer couldn't help but let out a small giggle at Winston's cautionary warning.

"Oh, c'mon, Love. Would I be that reckless?"

The dead air over the radio was all the answer that was needed. She couldn't help but roll her eyes a bit.

"Okay, okay. I'll behave m'self. Promise!" And with that, she sprinted full pelt up the remainder of the stairs. Perhaps she shouldn't have used the word 'promise' exactly. Oh well. She was sure the others would catch up to her before she got into any real trouble.

Winston, understandably, wasn't at all confident that Tracer would be keeping her promise either. He turned his attention for a moment towards Mei, McCree, and Mercy, who were all currently helping to untie several bound and gagged office workers that he'd found. It was strange… According to Mei, who had turned out to be a very handy translator for them, there had been only a handful of employees in the building that day due to some holiday, and all of them had been rounded up, tied up, and just dumped there in one of the conference rooms without supervision from either of their captors. It was almost as if they hadn't been taken as hostages at all, but merely shoved to the side to get them out of the way. But if that was the case, then why?

He was torn from his reverie when he received another message over their team radio.

'Winston. About these bombs…'

The gorilla could feel his heart sink at that, but he quickly answered back.

"What's wrong, Torbjörn? Can you not defuse them?"

'Oh no, I can defuse them no problem. But they're—'

The rest of the message was drowned out in static as Winston felt a bolt of electricity surge through his entire body. He let out a roar of pain, his knees buckling underneath him as he collapsed to the ground. It took him a moment to steel himself against the intense burning pain continuously shooting through his nerves, but he soon found the strength to lift his head up off the floor and get his strong arms underneath himself. Before he could pick himself up and turn himself on whoever it was that had sunk a tazer in his back, something far more dangerous caught his eye. A dark mist was crawling up the hall in front of him, swirling upwards and taking the form of a man before his very eyes.

"Well, if it isn't Curious George come to stick his nose in someone else's business once again." Came a voice like death itself as Reaper's body solidified from his ethereal form. The white of his skull-like mask was visible for but a moment, as a quick barrage of six gunshots rang out almost the instant he'd taken solid form. Reaper dispersed into mist once more just as McCree barreled out into the hall, already halfway through reloading his revolver to take another shot at the bastard. Mei dashed out a moment later, but turned her endothermic blaster in Winston's direction instead. The gorilla snapped his eyes shut as a stream of frigid air roared overhead. The paralyzing electricity that had incapacitated him vanished suddenly, and he could hear a dull thud behind him. He was on his feet again in an instant, and he looked behind him to see the frozen form of a Talon agent lying there on his back, tazer rifle still held stiffly up in his frost-covered hands.

He didn't get the chance to thank Mei for the save, instead charging after where Reaper ought to have been. He was gone now, but he could still see the faint wisps of his dark mist as it curled around a nearby corner and vanished. Winston knew where he was headed, and it only served to increase his sense of urgency.

"He's heading upstairs! Move!"

Tracer had managed to make it all the way to the top floor of the skyscraper even before the elevator had gotten there. In fact – and she glanced up to check on this – Roadhog still had a good fifteen floors to go before he caught up to her. She smirked to herself. That would be plenty of time to find Junkrat if she was quick about it. And she always was.

The layout of the top floor was fairly linear, there being virtually nothing but open hallway between the elevator and what she assumed was the CEO's office. This was apparently one of those companies where the bloke in charge really wanted to make it seem like he was above everyone else – literally. That worked for Tracer. It narrowed down the places in which Junkrat could be hiding to pretty much nothing.

She came to a stop in front of the door to the office. It was cracked open a few inches, tempting her to rush right in. She wasn't quite that reckless, though. She could already smell the heavy odor of smoke and gunpowder that always clung to the lanky Junker's body. He was in there alright. She took a peek through the crack in the door to try and scope out the situation. The office lights were out, but light streamed in from the large windows that made up the far wall. The outside light cast the large desk and tall office chair in a dark silhouette, but left just about everything in shadow. She could just make out a few faint wisps of smoke rising from overtop the back of that chair. She couldn't help but smirk to herself. Really? Was he seriously doing that whole cliché 'casually sitting in the boss's seat waiting for the heroes to show up' thing? She would wager he was even doing his fair share of evil hand-wringing as he sat there and stared out the window.

A quick glance over her shoulder told her that Roadhog was still a fair few floors down. Plenty of time. She dashed in, making a beeline for the desk before her target could react. In one fluid motion, she leapt onto the surface of the desk, spun the chair around, and aimed a pulse pistol right at the center of the Junker's sooty forehead.

"I've got ya now, ya crazy wank—" Tracer was forced to abruptly cut off her declaration of victory, instead blinking down at the empty chair before her. Well, perhaps it wasn't completely empty. There was what looked like a bomb timer affixed with duct tape near the top of the chair, though it seemed to be missing something rather important – namely explosives. The faceplate of the timer was dangling off of it, held on only by a single flimsy screw. It seemed that someone had done a bit of quick rewiring to the device, creating an intentional short that produced the thin streams of smoke that she'd mistakenly thought had been coming from Junkrat's perpetually smoldering hair.

"Wot the—" She was cut off again, this time by the feeling of the barrel of a grenade launcher being pressed against the small of her back. She drew in a sharp gasp, standing deathly still as the familiar mad giggling of her missing target rang in her ears.

"Sorry there, 'Love.' It was a good show y'put on… But I'm 'fraid the party's over."