Overwatch Headquarters stood tall against the snow and pines of Switzerland. It was not hidden under a mountain -or even a lake- in the way secret bases were supposed to be. No, it was just there, a grey building devoid of ornament but for a round carving with what looked like hands giving a high five.

Reinhardt had somewhat hoped that the coin Balderich gave him included a private joke, but it seemed it did not. Well. As disappointing as it was, not everyone could have gryphons as coat-of-arms.

The helicopter that had brought him there took off in a cloud of chaos, spewing snow everywhere with the strength of its whirling blades. It was soon a small dot in the cloudy sky, and he curled his hands into fists and took a deep breath. That was it. No turning back, now.

Leaving the container with his armour behind, Reinhardt walked towards the large, closed doors at the front of the building. They were large enough to fit a tank, or maybe something bigger. He wondered what secret spy technology they stored in there. Maybe a big-arse robot to fight Omnics? That would be amazing. It would almost make it for the dumbarse symbol.

It was June and it was bloody freezing outside. He forced his hands in his pockets as he paced in front of the door. Nobody was coming to fetch him, despite seeing him land? There was no screen by the doors, no communications device. No cameras. Maybe there was a side door? No. No side door, just smooth grey walls. Actually, windowless walls, he just noticed-but he could swear he had seen light reflecting on glass when he arrived.

If what Balderich had told him was true and this Overwatch organization hunted Omnics and protected humans, sure the tin cans would know of the existence of this place. Still-and despite the raging war- the building had not even a single dent or bullet hole. It looked as good as new.

There was no snow on it, either. He stroked his goatee. It was really a strange building, but that would not keep him out. If this was a test, he was going to pass it with flying colours, he cackled, walking towards his container.

It opened flawlessly, revealing his trusty armour suit. He had had it patched up before leaving Germany, much like the army's doctors did for him. They were both scratched and rough around the edges, but that had never stopped him from finishing a mission.

He made a thin line with his mouth as he opened the fixations on the chest plate; he did not remember a time he had put on his armour alone, and the thought made his chest ache. But times changed- and the suit was a freaking fridge. Shit . He felt goosebumps riding all the way up from his legs. He had never suited up in the middle of nowhere covered in snow, either.

The anchors for the boots were easy to find and helped him gain stability as he worked the suit up. By the time it was just the chest piece remaining, his hands were shaking all over the controls at the armour's wrists. He grabbed them and probed the metallic fingers. All operational. Good. His armoured right hand closed the hatch on the side of the chest piece at the tenth try, and set the shoulder pad correctly.

The engine on his back came to life at last, bringing much-needed warmth to his body, and he laughed in relief. He glared at the still-closed doors and the armour roared as he charged.

He aimed for the joint of the doors, the weakest point, and braced for impact. Three feet. One foot.

He rushed through the doors as if they were made of air. In front of him appeared half a concrete wall with windows. Real windows. Fuck . Reinhardt covered his face with his arms as his legs hit the wall and his momentum drove him through the glass, shattering it into shards little larger than dust. He rolled several feet inside the building, until he landed sprawled all over the floor.

"That didn't go as I expected," he winced, getting on all fours and looking around. Several people were on their feet, aiming at him with rifles. "Hello, my friends. I'm not the enem-"

A kick found his back as he was raising his hands, forcing him to stay down. Well, forcing was a bit of a strong word, but he decided it was best not to fight back. For now.

"What in the world were you thinking?" He heard the voice of an angry woman, and soon enough he saw her boots and ankles. Oh, and legs. Nice legs. "Didn't you see the holographic wall?"

Who cared about walls? She was tall and slender, but irradiated an aura of strength and self-confidence. She kicked arse around there, that was for sure. She was, by the looks of her uniform, a Captain.

"Stop staring if you want to keep that eye," her eyes turned into slits, and she pushed his jaw to the side with the tip of her rifle. Damn it. She could kill him that same moment and she would still be damn beautiful. "Who are you? Not von Everec, that's for sure."

"That's true," he let go a long breath. "Permission to get up, Captain?"

"Denied," she looked unimpressed, and he could not blame her. He was standing like a dog at her feet, pushing with his back upwards to stop supporting the blasted engine with his shoulder blades only. "Now, talk before I lose my patience."

"I'm Crusader Lieutenant Reinhardt Wilhelm, ma'am. I'm here on-"

"Lies," she hammered her rifle. "The Crusaders are no more."

The screens around them flashed a list of deceased Crusaders and he gritted his teeth, his body tightening as if someone was twisting and squeezing his guts.

It had only been a week.

One by one, his comrades' pictures scrolled down until the screen showed his. The only survivor of the Battle of Eichenwalde, staring at him with two eyes full of self-confidence and arrogance. His hands made fists inside the armour, even though the gauntlets' fingers could only curl so much while holding their combined weight, and he pushed himself up in spite of the rifles pointing at this head.

"I cannot replace the General," he said among teeth, looking her in the eye. "But he entrusted me his coin. Let me honour my comrades' memory by serving with you."

After a moment of silence, the Captain made a gesture and the soldiers stood down.

"I am Captain Ana Amari, former Egyptian army, currently part of the Overwatch Strike Team," she saluted him, her rifle resting on her shoulder. "We received notice you had all fallen, so we were not expecting visits," she finished, her voice a pinch softer.

"They died with glory," he said, raising his chin proudly, but the words sounded empty. He wished he could scratch the bloody scar on his face while wearing the armour. "I'll get you the coin when I take the armour off."

"Keep it and show it to the Strike Commander. He will decide if you can join us. You can stay at the facilities until then but, please, refrain from breaking more windows," she snorted.

"Sorry about that," Reinhardt made a face, half a chuckle, half an embarrassed pout, and he saw her rolling her eyes as she walked down the corridor.

The building was much larger than Reinhardt had given it credit for. Once his armour was safely stored and kept warm inside, a nice lady provided him with a badge so he could walk around the complex. And walk he did, for he had nothing else to do.

There was a shooting range and a large gym. A canteen where they served good-enough food and beer only at night (he had already asked). There were several doors he did not have access to and everything and everywhere had a very antiseptic look; grey and white, long tube lights on the corridors, darker grey doors, light grey furniture.

Sitting at the canteen, Reinhardt slurped a vanilla smoothie while he eyed people coming and going; most of them were researchers or scientists of some sort. The ladies seemed to be amiable enough, giggling and smiling openly wherever he winked at them, but none would come to chat. Whenever he had tried to make small-talk by reaching a group of people, they had fled immediately.

He was incredibly bored, and boredom made him remember faces and places that were no more. Screens with crossed-out names and bloody Omnics. At this rate, he would end up doing curls at the gym to kill time- sitting on the ground, of course, because everything seemed just too small for him to use. If only there were someone he could fight, he sighed, missing the loud canteen back home. His loud comrades.

Shit.

He gulped down the smoothie in one go.

"What's the matter here? Why's everyone so shy?" He asked the bartender. "Never seen a German before? We don't bite. Much," he cackled. The tender rolled his eyes, never stopping cleaning glasses with a cloth. Reinhardt groaned and leaned his head on a hand, covering his ruined eye with it. "I'm serious. What's wrong with you people?"

"Your reputation precedes you, I'm afraid," Reinhardt heard a gruff voice by his side. He turned around, but he was alone. "Here, you big oaf!"

Something hit him in the shin, hard , and he yelped, jumping backward and colliding with one of the too-flimsy-to-hold-him stools behind him. There was an incredible small beard-wait no, they were chops, and they were actually quite cool. And that mechanical—

His feet were taken from under him and he ended with his bones on the ground. He groaned, the healing injuries on his back all complaining at the same time, but the newcomer and his blond chops looked quite smug. He would be around his age, though it was difficult to say because he was really short.

"Bloody Germans. Don't you know staring at people is rude?" He asked, the mechanical contraption on his left arm making a clanking noise in front of Reinhardt's face. "Walking as if you own the place is also rude."

"I mean no disrespect, my friend," he replied, sitting up. The sight of the muscles of the newcomer's arms painted an evil grin on his face. "But taking me down-that was quite the move. What about we arm-wrestle our differences away?"

"Hah. Maybe later," he smirked. "Now get up. Captain Amari needs us."

"Does she?" Reinhardt scrambled to his feet immediately, feeling a rush of energy. Bursting Omnic heads always made him feel better, somehow. "Is there a battle somewhere?"

"Maybe," the newcomer said without much enthusiasm, making a gesture with his hand. He just about reached Reinhardt's hip.

Reinhardt doubled up with laughter.

"No wonder you've birds in your head with that height," the short man grabbed him and pulled forward. "We'll see if you live up to the rest of your reputation."

-000-

Captain Ana Amari was already waiting for them in a briefing room, fully geared for combat. While reading on a datapad, her other hand played idly with the long braid over her shoulder.

She had no idea how this would play out. Probably she was stepping on Gabriel's toes, but she would play her cards as they came.

"Thanks, Torbjörn. Lieutenant," she gave them a quick nod as they entered the room and powered off the datapad. "I'll be brief. I've received a distress signal from a factory not far from here, and we are low-"

"Let's go fight, then!" The Lieutenant bellowed in his thick German accent and grinned, hands on his hips. "What are we waiting for?"

Ana looked at him with raised eyebrows. This guy was like nothing she had encountered before, let alone in the military. It had to be a facade. A distraction, to mess with his enemies' heads. And his allies', too, apparently.

"The situation is hardly optimal. Even if you agree to help us informally-"

"I do!"

"-it's only the three of us," she glared at him. Despite what it said in his dossier, the Crusader did not seem to have any form of military training. Gabriel would shred him to pieces when he met him- if she had not, already. "We won't engage the enemy unless imperative, and we will focus on rescuing as many people as we can. Understood?"

Torbjörn nodded.

"I'll go grab some supplies and meet you at the hangar. Tag along, big guy."

"Not yet," Ana said. "I need a moment with the Lieutenant. I'll send him your way."

Torbjörn raised his bushy eyebrows for an instant while his mouth curved into a grin.

"No doubt you will," he cackled. "Leave something of the poor bastard."

She almost smiled.

The Lieutenant was looking at her expectantly, tucking the longish golden hair behind his ears. The scar on his face made him look fierce when he frowned but, from what she had gathered, he seemed content enough walking around like an oversized puppy-or an oversized womanizer.

"I'm all ears, Captain," he leaned on the wall behind him, arms crossed and a little smile on his lips.

"You better be," she stood in front of him, not intimidated by the difference in height and weight. "I've read your expedient-the whole base has, at this point. Despite your many achievements you're reckless, egocentric, and ignore your chain of command-among other pearls."

His brow furrowed, and she knew she had his attention. Good.

"This is a rescue mission, and I won't tolerate you running berserk and jeopardizing our security, or that of the civilians'. Is that clear? I'll put you down myself, if I have to."

She did not mean kill him, of course. Just put him to sleep for a while. The look in his eye, though, had changed to something she could not pinpoint. Just-

"I understand, Captain," he said in a low voice, looking like an oversized, upset puppy. How could his eyes be so expressive?

"Good," she nodded. "You have five minutes to get in that armour of yours. Go."

The factory was a mess. They had taken too long to reach them and whatever was not burning was falling apart. There should not be any Omnics left, but thankfully their aircraft's sensors detected survivors in a couple of buildings.

Along with the two men, Ana had taken a handful of soldiers to watch over their aircraft and help the survivors once they reached them. Some of them were medics, some psychologists-and some were engineers which expertise was moving structures and building bridges. There were many operatives to chose from to begin with, most of them being deployed in the same mission Gabriel was commanding, but they would make do. They must.

The aircraft landed with a soft thud and the cargo door opened immediately after. Her heart raced. It was time.

"Establish a perimeter around the ship and bring in the civilians as they come. Torbjörn, make sure we are safe. Lieutenant, come with me."

The Crusader walked by her side, his armour making a hundred metallic noises as he moved. He was at least a foot taller while in it and easily as broad as a delivery truck, but he moved as if it weighed nothing-which she was sure was far from the truth. She should ask Torbjörn to report later; maybe any of that technology could be useful for them.

He was also quiet, changing his big hammer from hand to hand every now and then and looking around pensively. It was an improvement from his loud-self, that was for sure.

"Everyone, keep your comms open and stay safe." There was a bunch of ayes and nods, and she took a deep breath. "Torbjörn, you're in charge now. We will search for survivors."

"After you, Captain," the Lieutenant bowed and moved to the side to grant her access to the door and she restrained the urge to roll her eyes. She would give him one mistake before putting him to sleep. One, she thought, getting outside their aircraft. Columns of dark smoke rose from the burning buildings, and she covered her face with a handkerchief tied at the back of her head.

"You don't have a helmet," she realized, looking at the Lieutenant as he rested the hammer on his shoulder.

"I don't need one."

Well, stone her. Who would have guessed close-ranged combatants did not need helmets? Nobody, because they needed them. She let go a sigh, but said nothing. She needed him now, but he would not be her problem once Gabriel was back. She was missing him and Jack already.

"I'll cover your back while you get those survivors out. The Omnics are likely gone already, but I won't risk it. We do this quickly. Questions?"

"None. Let's do this."

She climbed up bent beams and large pieces of debris from where she could see his figure. He was like a bull in a china shop; easy to follow and to shoot at, either due to the sound of his footsteps, the smoke that made him cough, or light reflecting on the armour.

They rescued a couple trapped under a beam and then moved to the next building. There were tons of metal scraps and large tankers, and a smell like hell itself-it may have been a sort of furnace, but it was mostly destroyed at present. Ana crouched on top of a beam that gave her visibility inside the building and yet a good view of part of their surroundings.

"This place is vile," the Lieutenant complained as he coughed. The upper levels had collapsed almost completely, giving the wrong feeling of open space with a very uneven floor.

"I'm sure a helmet would help with that," she picked on him. He grunted something on the comms and she smirked, thankful about her kerchief even if it would do nothing about the smell.

"The survivors should be by your right. Further to the right. Yes, there," she guided him to a large chunk of concrete that looked as if it had fallen from the uppermost level. She adjusted the scope of her rifle in time to see the Lieutenant pushing the rubble away with his armoured hands.

"Careful. It's unstable above," she said while shooting at the point she wanted him to look at. He raised a thumb at her and hammered the whole section down. It exploded in pieces that reached all the way to the opposite wall. "Is that what careful means to you?" She asked, mildly incredulous, charging the rifle with mechanical movements. "The building won't cope with your strength."

"And what does?" He chuckled, flexing an arm without turning. She would have hidden her eyes under a hand if she had not been looking through her rifle's scope. For a split a moment, she wondered about the other Crusaders. They could not have been like this-could they? Their intel about von Everec never suggested it, but she found difficult to believe they would put up with the Lieutenant unless they were quite similar people. That, or he could see something in the Lieutenant that clearly was lost to her.

A couple of dirty workers scurried from a dark hole, frightened but apparently whole. Ana took a torch from her belt and made some signals to show them the way out. They did not move, though, talking to the Crusader and making gestures towards another wall.

He started pushing another slab of concrete away, the engine on his back roaring. It must be stuck with others, for it barely moved.

"Leave it. I'll call the engineers."

"The workers are suffocating," he said between teeth. "There's no time."

"The building is unstable," she said slowly. "You may-"

"I've got this."

She raised her head from the rifle for a moment to assess the building as a whole and glimpsed something moving. She blinked, but it was gone.

"We may have company, after all," she jumped down her beam towards a bent concrete slab, perfect for sliding all the way to the ground, and looked around. The sky was clouded with smoke, dawn would be on them soon-but there was no sign of the enemy. There was nobody perched on the visible roof above them, either.

She heard the Crusader huffing and the ground sliding, crunching, cracking. Then, coughs coming from at least a dozen people and gasps for air.

"Stay hidden, I'll-"

She rolled on the ground at the sound of a machine-gun getting ready to fire, and caught sight of a plasma barrier shielding both the workers and the Crusader. She rushed to her feet and zig-zagged while the Omnic focused on them.

"That's all you can do?" He taunted, keeping it occupied on himself. "Come down here and fight me!" So he could be useful as well, apparently. Ana climbed up several broken pieces of concrete and equipment until she had a clear shot. Then, she smiled.

The bastion unit never knew what hit it. Two shots and it beeped in distress. Five, and it just plummeted to the ground.

"Good one!" The Lieutenant laughed, removing the barrier and turning to the workers. "Better stay there for a while more, my friends. May not be safe yet."

"Torbjörn, there are bastions in the area," Ana called the engineer. "Be careful. We have quite a lot of survivors here, we may need fire cover to get them to safety."

The Crusader's stomping footsteps clanked on the ground, making it tremble slightly. How much did the bloody armour weigh, anyway? He stood in front of the hiding workers, cocking his head at her scrutiny, and she gasped. The ground kept trembling even if he was standing.

Move , she wanted to scream, but it was too late. There was a loud cracking noise, and the floor crumbled under them. Among the pieces of concrete, metal and pipes collapsing, she saw a large furnace laying at the bottom of a significant a drop.

The suffocating heat and smell hit her and, for a moment, she felt like she was flying. Her body was devoid of gravity or anything to weigh her down. It was freedom in its purest form and it was darkness, if it had a gaping red, melting mouth. She thought of her daughter. What would she do alone in the world? Would Sam take her with him?

The darkness roared in distress, and she could not breathe. Blackness crept into her vision and engulfed the furnace's light.

Ana gasped for breath and groaned at the pain in her side. It reminded her of the time she was run over by a car in Egypt, when she was little. She knew, though, that she had been away from her motherland for quite some time, and that she was not a little girl. That was good, it ruled out a bad concussion. Her mouth tasted like blood and sand, but she did not seem to be badly injured- just bruised and scratched, and maybe with some cracked ribs.

It was very dark around her-wait. The darkness was not as intense to the right of wherever she was. The furnace, of course. Hopefully, there was a way out, even if that meant climbing.

Her hands felt debris, small rocks, and metal rods, but not her rifle. Damn. She got herself on her knees carefully, but stopped when she heard a metallic sound above. Then servos ticking and hydraulic joints. Her mouth dried; that was not the Lieutenant.

Ana dropped to the ground in a split a second despite her instincts screaming her to run. Her heart was like thunder in her ears, but she did not move. She could escape or hide while in the dark, and she could not protect herself without her rifle.

The Omnic above hammered its weapons. Another machine gun, she thought. Another Bastion. She squeezed her eyes, expecting a round of shooting, but nothing happened. She was alive, and the workers were not screaming. A miracle. Her heart was about to pop out of her chest.

The Bastion was somewhat broken if it could not read her heat signature, which was great news. She just had to get out of there, find the Lieutenant if possible, and kick his arse to oblivion for not listening to her.

Ana got to her knees again and scurried towards the opposite side of the furnace, ribs screaming in pain. In the darkness, her hands found their way across the uneven surface of the walls until her shoulder hit a wall in front of her. It groaned and crumbled, and she covered her head with her arms. A large chunk fell close to her face, almost pinning her down.

Just, the wall provided light, was panting, and was very much alive.

"Lieutenant," she gasped. A large armoured hand covered the half of his face where the scar was while the other was by her own face-limp.

Ana wriggled herself out of her improvised shelter and kicked his hammer out of her way so she could sit on her feet.

Now that he had moved, his armour lit the room dimly ahead of them,- or what was left of it. Debris piled in big chunks, and there was a broken pipe somewhere. Water, hopefully, since it did not smell. They were on a tunnel of some sort, uneven and carved on the wall.

"We need to get out before the bastion kill the workers," she whispered, yet he still did not acknowledge her. The left side of his armour was scratched and torn in places. Blood dripped down the metallic fingers on his face as he panted, lost in his mind. She bit her lip- they had no time for inner demons, now.

Ana counted to three and pulled at his limp left arm. He roared in pain, throwing a blind punch at her. She dodged it, rolling on the ground in a very unceremonious way and gasped in agony as she landed. She was coughing up blood; ribs must be more broken than she thought.

"Captain?" He called, his voice rough. Ana heard the clanking sound of the armour moving and then a curse when he hit his head against the improvised roof. For goodness' sake. She would have laughed if it did not hurt so much. The Crusader knelt by her side with a grunt and a large cold hand felt her arm. Then, she saw LEDs behind him.

"Behind you," she croaked.

The Bastion opened fire. The Lieutenant groaned as the bullets rebounded on his plated back and he turned around, grabbing forward his limp left forearm. A plasma barrier hummed to life in front of them, stopping the bullets for now.

"Can you move? Just a bit? Get behind some rubble?" He asked, practically filling the whole tunnel just by crouching on it. The Bastion's attack was relentless, and the plasma barrier was cracking at the sides already.

"No," she whispered, feeling a deep, cold dread. Not for her, but for Fareeha. For those poor souls they had tried to save and that may end up dead all the same. Even for the buffoon that was trying to save her life.

"Don't worry, then. Just stay with me, maus You'll live. And our short friend will save those workers."

The barrier gave out.

The Crusader turned around and towered over her, and then it was all darkness.

-0000-

The rain of bullets stopped hitting his back after a long while, and Reinhardt gasped in relief. He was alive, somehow. Hiding his head seemed to have done the trick but, the way his back hurt meant his armour had taken a beating. Damn, if only he could fought the bloody tin can- it was only one, he would have destroyed it easily if the Captain could have hid- but the damn thing had been shooting freaking anti-tank rounds point-blank at him for more than a minute.

Ow.

He moved a bit, enough to see the Captain being immobile under his frame, curled on herself, her dark skin paling.

"Captain, you there?" The engineer's voice echoing down the hole made Reinhardt sigh in relief. He had destroyed the Omnic for sure, and he would save the Captain, too.

"We're down here," Reinhardt answered instead, clanking his hand against the wall. His comm unit was as busted as the rest of his armour. "I owe you a beer, my friend. A good German beer."

And beer was exactly what he needed. He sat on the ground; his dislocated shoulder screamed at every movement, but he would kill to stop the pain on his already blind eye.

"But hurry up. The Captain is injured," he continued, hearing the engineer already working on something.

"Why didn't you say it sooner?!"

Reinhardt grabbed his pounding head again and tried to squirm closer to the wall to make way for the medics. More people were getting closer now, but he could not tell if they were the workers or some of the soldiers that came with them. His vision was blurry and he could barely distinguish the Captain's silhouette against the faint light but, the way his head hurt, he did not even want to try squinting. He could, though, berate himself for failing to carry her to safety in the first place.

She would have ended at the bottom of that furnace had he not charged, but still. She was so small, and lean. Fragile. And yet she killed that Bastion in a blink of an eye. Impressive-And how she dodged and climbed. They never had such skilled snipers in the German army.

"What in all forges happened to you, big guy?" He heard the engineer (what was his name again?) say when he pointed a torch to his face.

"Not important," Reinhardt shook his head and regretted it immediately. Dizziness hit him, and he leaned his head back on the rocky wall. Carefully. "Doctor's with you, ja ?"

There was, in fact, more than one doctor. As they worked on her, Reinhardt's mouth formed a thin line. He had no right to say he knew the Captain, but he did. She was fierce and kind- hearted. She knew her priorities, tried to keep them all safe. And, while she barely breathed by his side, he could not stop thinking about how similar she was to Balderich-and how much he would hate himself if she also died because of him.

The engineer's metallic contraption clunking in front of his face startled him.

"That blow to your pretty face doesn't look very good," he said, taking the large armour hand away from his head. Reinhardt would have pushed him away, but he felt drained. "Why in the hell don't you wear a helmet?"

He groaned.

The doctors at the headquarters promised she would live- that was all Reinhardt needed to stop being difficult and let them take a look at his injuries. As dramatic as they may have been, they were nothing he would not survive with ice and painkillers. And beer.

But drinking with a pounding head was not as much fun as having a pounding head after drinking, he thought, sitting at the edge of a small bed and rubbing the back of his neck. Besides, he could not shake the feeling of failure from his bones.

It was not that he regretted saving those people, no. But he had never been so painfully aware of his decisions-and their consequences to others-until now. During his years as a Crusader he thought he knew what he was doing, but maybe-maybe he was not cut out for being a shield, after all. Maybe he truly was too reckless, too impulsive.

He groaned. Screw it. Beer it was, and plenty of it. Now.

He was getting out the door, not even bothering to put his boots on, when he collided with something- or somebody, as his shins painfully let him know.

"Getting yourself almost killed out there isn't enough to call it a day?"

"Ah, I'm just going for beer," Reinhardt said slowly, his voice rumbling in his ears.

The engineer looked at him frowning, his bushy eyebrows forming a large caterpillar of hair. Reinhardt felt the pull of a smile on his lips and coughed somewhat to spare his shins.

"Get back to bed," he said after a moment of glaring. "You're worse that my kids, not being able to stay put for a moment."

"I'm not-" He stopped talking when his short visitor pressed some buttons on the metallic contraption of his arm. "What are you doing?"

"Bringing the beer here, you moron. You won't make it to the canteen without falling on your face," he scratched one of his chops. "Actually, that would be fun."

Reinhardt chuckled and winced at the strain it put on his body. When he was not actively trying to maim him, the engineer's dry humour was fun. He liked him, he thought while sitting at the edge of the bed.

"Lieutenant Reinhardt Wilhelm, at your service," he offered him a hand, that he took. "I don't think we've been introduced."

"Chief Engineer Torbjörn Lindholm, at yours," he looked around for a moment, then continued. "I wanted to thank you for saving Ana."

"I almost killed her," he shrugged, which was a bad idea. Same as taking the sling off. He grabbed the cold pack the doctors gave him from the table and pressed it against his shoulder. The cold bit through the bandages, and Reinhardt welcomed the different kind of pain. "Where is that beer?"

"Of course. The Germans need to have everything now and do everything now," Torbjörn rolled his eyes. "What about the planning? The journey?"

"What journey?"

"It's a manner of speech, you oaf," he jumped on to the bed and sat by his side. His short legs dangled far from the floor, which did not seem to bother him a bit. "You really hit your head hard-which reminds me. Who's gonna fix your armour?"

"Me, I guess."

"Please," he rolled his eyes. "I'm dead, now. Killed by German sense of humour."

"I won't impose," he moved the pack to his eye to restrain himself from taking it out its socket, and let go a long breath. Shit, his head was seriously killing him. "Beer?"

"Didn't you get something for the head?" Torbjörn pressed some more buttons on his arm-thing and a red and yellow robot opened the door, rolling a barrel up to them. The bastard had it hidden! He glared at the engineer, and he smirked, smug.

"Most drugs don't mix very well with me," Reinhardt bent over -slowly- to tap the barrel just to notice he did not have a mug. The engineer produced one from one of his pouches, shrugging, and he filled it to the brim. Beer was beer. It'll kill whatever that mug had contained before. "Size, or something."

Torbjörn nodded, then made a face.

"Seeing your disposition to crash, I could make you a helmet. Honestly, I don't understand how you have survived this long without."

"Cause I had friends," Reinhardt said, tasting the beer. It was bitter and dark, just like he was feeling. "Cheers."

"Cheers," the engineer said after a moment, raising his fist against the mug. They remained silent for a moment, until he spoke again. "Well. If you change your mind about your armour let me know. I'd like to see its insides, too, if you know what I mean."

He jumped down to the ground and patted the keg. Reinhardt watched him walk towards the door, feeling the beer turn to ashes in his mouth. The engineer had not left, yet the silence of the white antiseptic room was already deafening, giving rein to the demons on his mind. He left the mug on the nightstand with a shaky hand before he dropped it, and gritted his teeth. Stupid cracked cheekbone. Stupid scar. Stupid painkillers.

He was more than thirty and had seen battle almost all his life. He should not be this weak. This lonely, guilty, and pathetic.

"Wouldn't you drink with me, my friend?" He said, hoping his voice would not crack.

"Hah. I thought you'd never ask!" Torbjörn let go a hearty chuckle and walked back to him, taking off the metallic thing on his arm and leaving it by the bed. Then, somehow he produced another mug from his pouches. "The emergency one," he said, filling it up. "So, what do Germans talk about over beer? Sweethearts?"

Reinhardt woke up to a cramp in his injured shoulder. He had fallen asleep curled on his right side against the bedpost, which probably was not a terrible idea considering how short the bed was in the first place. It was almost dawn outside, but he did not remember Torbjörn leaving. As he massaged the angry muscles into submission, he noticed that his mind seemed sharper despite the horrible throbbing on his skull. He could not be more grateful for it. He did not remember much of what happened during the night other than feeling like shit. They were drinking, exchanging tales about-he had no idea about what.

He stretched out slowly and got up. He was sore the last inch, but he welcomed the sensation. He was alive, and so was the Captain. He felt a pang of guilt, of failure, but he took a deep breath.

It was not in his nature to surrender.

He would fix his armour somehow and, if Overwatch did not want him, he would find another battlefront where he could serve. Fighting was all he knew, after all. If he was not cut out to protect others, he sure as hell was cut out to smash trash cans to pieces.

He looked through the window. The holographic wall did not prevent him seeing the snow and trees around them. It felt peaceful outside. And the doctor said cold would be good for his injuries, did she not?

-000-

Ana woke up startled. She was dreaming of sand and scorching heat. Her rifle. Her friends of old, her father. And then, there were only screams. She touched her midsection tentatively. Breathing ached, but she was not dead. Her mouth tasted terribly, but someone had been so kind as to leave her a glass of water by the side of the bed.

The sun was high in the sky already, she noticed-but that was not what surprised her. There were a bunch of green twigs in a vase, some with small red fruits.

"You're awake at last," she heard a voice, and scrambled to get a pistol she kept close to the bed-header. There was somebody in the lavatory that raised a hand through the open door. "Easy. It's just me."

"Jack," she winced, lowering the gun. "Babysitting me?"

He chuckled, low in his throat.

"I would never dare."

"That's why you brought me flowers?" She made a gesture with her head towards the twigs. Holding herself on the mattress she pushed herself to a sitting position, gasping when the bones grated against each other. It had not been as painful as it was unpleasant, but she still felt nauseous.

"I didn't. They were there when I came," Jack said, sitting on a chair by the bed, elbows on his knees. "I just wanted to make sure you were OK. It was unexpected to return and, well. It is not like you to rush into danger like this."

"It was an emergency," she looked into Jack's eyes, but there was only concern there. "How long have I been out?"

"Twelve hours. The nanites have already repaired most of the damage to the lungs, your team was quick."

"I don't remember what happened. Just the Omnic, and the Lieutenant-" Ana stopped talking. She had a vague memory of the tunnel.

"Who is he, again?" Jack ran a hand over his golden hair. "I've heard some rumours."

"Ah, so you came to gossip, then," she raised an eyebrow, and he chuckled. "Where is Gabriel?"

"Looking for him. Apparently, he is quite difficult to find for a giant Germ-"

The door opened quietly and a blue eye framed by blonde hair peered through the door gap. It was not able to see enough, though, for the gap enlarged until a nose could fit, too.

"Stop being a creep and come in, Lieutenant," she called. "You are anything but stealthy."

He said something under his breath that she could not understand and pushed the door open after a moment. The scar on his forehead had reopened and that whole side of his face was black and purple down to the jaw. It was lucky he did not see with that eye, for it was swollen shut. She remembered the darkness, now. The tunnel, and the golden light coming from the armour. His blood.

It was lucky he did not have a bad concussion, but then, he looked to be quite hard-headed.

"Just came to check how you were feeling, Captain," he said with a tired half-smile, hooking his right hand on his belt. "I'll leave you-"

"There you are!" Gabriel bellowed. The Lieutenant turned around straightaway, blocking the doorway completely. "Bloody hell, I've searched everywhere."

"All right," she sighed. Having so many loud people around her made her head ache even more than her ribs. "Get inside already and don't shout."

The three of them exchanged pleasantries in a quite civilized manner until Gabriel crossed his arms in front of the large German, his best thinking face on. She would have offered the Lieutenant a chair, seeing that his good eye wrinkled in pain every now and then, but it was quite likely it would not hold his weight.

"So you wanna join Overwatch in your General's place," he pursed his mouth. "Computer, mission briefing, yesterday night, Captain Ana Amari's mission."

The metallic voice recounted their landing, her orders. Then switched to visual mode, to the cameras the Strike Team had installed within their equipment. Her warning about the building's condition was perfectly clear, and so were his adamant shoves to the concrete until the workers could pour outside.

She spied the Lieutenant's face changing. It was there for a split a second, but she was trained to see. To be fair, he did not make it difficult, wearing his heart on his sleeve as he did.

The ground broke under their feet. As she fell, the footage shook and went black. Then, movement. For a split second light reflected on a polished steel surface very close to the camera, then nothing but blackness.

"Footage from Captain Amari ends here," the computer said. "Showing footage from Chief Engineer Lindholm."

Ana was watching the images of the ship and its defenses, but her mind was racing. The Lieutenant was on the other side of the room when they fell, yet he was by her side when she woke up-in a hole in a wall. All his injuries were on the same side, and her camera shook towards the right. Could it be that he-? She touched her injured ribs and shook her head. Of course it could be.

"You charged me to close the gap of our fall," she snorted softly and he rubbed the back of his neck. "And then crashed into a wall. That's why you are a wreck."

"Sorry about your ribs," he made an apologetic face.

"But we were in a sort of tunnel when I woke up," she frowned.

"Had to break through the wall, there was no ledge over the furnaces," he shrugged a bit, lopsided, and held his left arm with a wince. "Hammer helped a bit."

Torbjörn's footage ended with him exploding an Omnic that was firing against a hole in the ground and their rescue efforts. She made a thin line with her lips. The back of his armour was full of holes and dents, the engine devastated. That was not what she remembered.

"Your armour—"

"Barrier broke," he offered, completing her thoughts. The idiot, she pinched her eyes. He shielded her with his body.

"Just, let me get this straight," Jack ran a hand over his face. "You defied your superior's order, and almost got both of you killed. It was sheer luck the civilians didn't plunge down with you."

The Lieutenant took the heat with his head high and his gaze low, until it was his turn to shoot back.

"I was not going to let them die in an oven , Captain," his collected demeanor was only betrayed by the feral look in his eye. "They may have fallen with us, but I gave them an opportunity. Do you-"

"Out there we only have each other," Gabriel intervened. "We cannot afford to be looking at our backs in case our teammates fail to protect us."

"He did not fail to protect us," Ana said in a very calm voice, hands crossed over her lap. He looked at her, surprised first and then grateful. "Computer, recount of civilians?"

"Thirty-four. Two casualties on the way back, two hundred and three casualties before the Strike Team arrived."

"I'm not disputing the results," Jack paced in front of her bed. She shifted on the bed, holding her midsection with a hiss; it was time for her painkillers. "But-"

"Computer, mission briefing, seventeen, twelve. Commander Reyes' mission."

"Computer, abort!" Jack huffed, cheeks turning a shade of pink. "That was nobody's fault!"

"Of course it was," she rolled her eyes. "And Torbjörn was almost permanently blinded."

Gabriel rubbed the back of his neck, and leaned on a wall. She could almost see the cogs turning on his head. He was not that different, Gabriel. Always taking risks, always making sure things went according to plan no matter what-but usually not to save civilians.

"Are you saying you vouch for him, Ana?" He said at last. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure that I'm tired and you won't let me rest," she scratched the bed covers with her short fingernails for a moment. Then, she looked at the Crusader. "He's not without flaw, but he protected the civilians and had my back at his own expense. What else do you expect from a rookie?"

The Crusader took the blow to his pride graciously, lowering his head and saying nothing. That was unexpected, based on his file- but the man painted on that file would have not protected her like the one before her did.

"I think she's right, Jackie," the Strike Commander patted his second-in-command on the back. "We could assess him and then decide. Also," he leaned on the German's good arm, a mischievous look on his face, "Lieutenant, do you know how to brew beer?"

The Crusader's face lit up and he grinned as much as his battered face allowed him.

"You really asking that of a German, Commander?"

"Fine, out of here, now," she waved a hand, dismissing them. "Go bond to the mess hall."

"Will visit later," Jack sent her a little smile, still sulking after having lost their unofficial vote.

"We would like to see your armour in action, when possible. No rush. We have a good idea of how you can fit in to the team, but want to assess you in person," Gabriel grinned as they walked.

"Happy to discuss the armour's capabilities before the assessment, Commander."

"May not be a bad idea. Will send Jack your way tomorrow. But now, get back to Med bay and chill. Don't escape the doctors again," Reyes raised an eyebrow, then shook his head. "Shit, you were hell to find."

As soon as they left, Ana asked the computer for her painkillers, and sighed in relief at the silence. She wished to get better soon so she could go see Fareeha. Maybe tomorrow. Or maybe she can ask somebody to bring her to the Med bay for a while. Yes, that could be—

Someone knocked at the door, quietly.

"Come in."

She did not know whether to be annoyed or curious when the German pushed the door again.

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

"I just wanted to thank you," he said, bowing his head. "Truly appreciate your kind words."

"As I said, you are not without flaw," she raised her eyebrows a bit, but her voice was soft. "But then, none of us are."

His smile broadened, and he fumbled with one of the pockets on his cargo trousers. After a moment, he produced a pine twig.

"I would have brought you flowers to wish you well, you know, but there's just snow around, so…" He said, adding the twig to the vase with the others. "Hope you heal soon."

Ana found herself wanting to genuinely smile, something that did not happen often.

-000-

Reinhardt had promised the Strike Commander he would stay in his room but, instead, he walked past it. He was on the west wing of the building now, was he not? The Engineering Bay was close by.

If he went back to his room it was likely that the doctors would bolt the door to prevent him from escaping again, and there was something he had just realized about his armour. He barely remembered taking it off, and he wanted to make sure it was safe. Not just the suit itself, but the power units. If they had suffered any damage they could be leaking, and that could be disastrous. Not to say explosive.

The moment he opened his container, his heart sank. His armour -or what was left of it- was hanging precariously from the clinches that kept it upright. The left shoulder pad was bent and torn in a way it did not resemble a gryphon any longer, and he could probably fit a finger on the scratches that covered half the chest plate. He took a bullet that had dug into the plating and tugged it out. There were more at the back, quite a lot, actually. He would need to have the whole section done, along with the totaled engine.

In any case, his throbbing head reminded him there would be time to worry about that later. For now, the power units should be the only concern.

He looked around for any tools he could use and noticed people around were looking at him. Hopefully, he would be old news soon enough no matter how tall and bulky he was. He smiled politely, acknowledged some with a gesture of his hand, and went towards a workbench.

First, he would need to take care of the plating. Bent and broken in lots of places, he was not sure he would be able to take the power unit out of its screws and rivets. He would need the wrench with the funny head. Probably the fire-thing as well, to cut off the plate that he could not remove.

Back at the suit and with heap of various tools at his feet, Reinhardt worked on dismantling the power unit at the front. The left side of the cover was bent, and it took him a while to crack the bolts to get it out. The unit itself seemed fine and was easy to pull off; he just had to twist it in the right direction until he heard a clack , but the connectors were just too small for his fingers. He growled, twisting his wrist in the hole as much as it went, but there was no chance. If only he could-

A small robotic arm, not thicker than a twig, popped up by his fingers. It patted him so he would move away and then it pulled the connector off. Then, it unhooked the unit completely and disappeared.

The sudden weight on his injured arm made Reinhardt hiss and drop the unit. Thankfully, after some dramatic fumbling, he managed to grab it with his other hand before it hit the floor. He let go a long relieved sigh and looked around to see the Chief Engineer by his side.

"When my minions told me you were here I could not believe it," Torbjörn looked at him with raised eyebrows. "First, count me impressed. Second, you are a moron that should be resting."

"The power units could be damaged, I-"

"I checked for leakage, heat, and power current. Once yesterday, once again this very morning," for a moment, he looked smug, but then he just patted him on the leg. "Good to see you actually thought to secure them, anyway."

"I can do some maintenance," he left the unit on the ground and blew some hair away from his face, tired and aching everywhere. "Replace the plating and some parts, check the engine, keep the parts clean and greased as required..."

When he looked back, the engineer had set a ladder against the side of the armour suit and was peering inside, naming everything he could see- and some things Reinhardt couldn't even name himself.

"Aha! I knew there was something that allowed you to control the engine easily," his voice echoed from inside the armour, where he was now.

"Hadn't you check it twice already?" Reinhardt snorted and sat on the ground, leaning on the side of the container. It was cold, and he turned his head to rest his battered face against it-carefully.

"Never," a finger showed up from behind the chest piece. "Not without your permission."

Reinhardt was about to comment that he had not actually given him permission, but he closed his eye instead. He really did not mind, and he owed the short man big-time already - that, not having into account that he would need him or his team to help him get the plate back into shape and someone to check the electronics for him. Besides, he was starting to seriously regret not having taken his painkillers when he woke up. Striding outside had been a distraction for a while but now his head throbbed with a vengeance, the pain echoing all the way on his injured shoulder.

"How do you survive in here during the hot weather?" Torbjörn's voice sounded both surprised and indignant. "Actually, I don't even know how you survive, period. It seems to be a tight fit, extreme in temperature. And it must weigh a ton."

There was a loud thud of feet reaching the ground, and then some beeps and clicks.

"The back could use additional reinforcements, to help you distribute the weight of the engine better across the back and hips. These fluffy decorations are preposterous, by the way."

He went on, and on, praising this and hating that, until he said helmet and Reinhardt gave up listening.

"Ah, there you are, you rascal. See that rug of a man there? Yep, off you go."

Something collided with one of Reinhardt's legs, making him open his eye. A small robot with a couple of arms and a tracked chassis was carrying a bottle of water and a little box with the symbol of the Med bay on it.

"For me?"

"Yes. Don't you dare and die in my bay before I get this mess sorted," he snorted, and dug a couple of bullets off the engine. "You, sir, are a handful."

"It would seem so," he sighed, but was grateful. There were four little pills inside the box, so small Reinhardt had to overturn it on his hand and take them all in one go. No way he could pick them up.

"Just give me a couple of days," the short man continued. "Heal up, settle. I'll keep in touch. May need your input on a couple of things. By the way, I'm not very good at gewgaws," he pointed at the armour ornaments. "I make useful, usable pieces of engineering."

"I truly appreciate your help, my friend, but I don't need a new armour."

He needed half of it repaired, though. But he could not bear the thought of getting rid of the old parts. The gryphon's ornaments were the pride of his Crusader unit, Balderich's emblem. That was all he had left of his friends. Of him .

"Not new. Improved," he grinned. "Sturdier."

"Or a helmet."

"Ah, I would kick you if you weren't hurting already. Why are you so damned adamant against it?" The engineer stood in front of him, hands on his hips and all scowl.

"Too hot, hair, and I'm blind enough," he said, raising a finger for each. "Did I say too hot?"

The short man seemed to ponder about it for a moment. He pushed some buttons on the metallic-thing he wore on his arm, displaying a little screen, and nodded.

"I couldn't care less about your hair, but I've got some good ideas for the real problems. We'll do some tests, eh? You cannot be admitted to Overwatch with a broken armour. The Strike Commander would want to see you in action."

Reinhardt took a deep breath and rubbed his good eye with a hand. He felt weak, bone-weary. Yet, he pushed all that away and nodded. Torbjörn was offering help freely and generously, too, considering they had barely met and it would cost him lots of work hours. It would be extremely rude to turn him down.

Maybe he could store the pieces until he could find someone that could repair them -or make them anew. Yeah. That sounded like a good idea.

"I'll help you as I can, then," he said, leaning his head against the container again. "But later, if you don't mind."

"Yeah, you rest for now. Probably at somewhere more comfortable than the floor of my rather-clean- but probably-still-not-very-hygienic bay, though."

"Can't move," Reinhardt slurred, his tongue weighing more than his armour. One of the pills he had taken was dragging him under.

-000-

Three days later, Ana was discharged from Med bay with strict orders not to overdo it-at least for a week. That meant no running, no weight-lifting, and no missions until she was completely cleared.

That also meant, unfortunately, that she could catch up with paperwork. She was responsible for a bunch of soldiers-their training, their goals, their development as snipers. She sighed. At least, she would have more time for Fareeha, even if she could not carry her.

Someone knocked at the door of her small office and came through. It was Gabriel, carrying a mug of hot chocolate in hand.

"Bringing gifts is not your style," she raised an eyebrow when he gave her the mug.

"Jack says hi," he half-smiled. Then, he produced a little bag from one of the pouches of the hoodie he was wearing. A bag with a doughnut. "This, believe it or not, was my idea."

"What do you need help with?"

The Strike Commander paced by her side, chuckling. Ana took a piece of the doughnut; it was freshly made, soft and with a cracking layer of thin sugar on top. Nice of them to remember how to bribe her.

"We'll assess the Lieutenant. Though you may want to come by? You've seen him in action."

"Don't," she pointed at him. "He cracked his skull. Three days is not enough to heal that, and nanites are no good for the head."

"He seems fine to me?"

She put down the remaining half of the doughnut, then glared at him. Gabriel crossed his arms, tapped his fingers on his bicep, and cleared his throat.

"What I meant is that we could see the tests Torb is running on the armour. They've been fixing it up."

"They?" Ana picked up her present again and dipped it in the hot chocolate. "He's been helping? And you let him?"

"Worrying about people is Jack's job," he raised his hands asking for peace. "I run the rest of the base."

She rolled her eyes. Sometimes she wondered how they had survived for a year as a group- and as a base. It was not a matter of being good at their jobs-which they were, of course, but rather of being bad, random, and awkward at everything else. And she included herself that bunch, even if she had managed to be the voice of reason of the team so far.

"I'll go with you before you get him killed-or he kills himself," she sighed. Well. At least it was not paperwork, and she got a nice breakfast for free.

They walked to the engineering bay chatting about the facilities. In truth, Gabriel did a great job at keeping everything running efficiently bearing in mind the amount of time he had to spend talking to the UN board. He had told them of her success saving civilians in the last instance, and the recruitment of their newest member, too. They seemed pleased, which was always good-it meant money, and money meant they could keep on fighting and helping people.

When they arrived, Ana saw they had cleaned up a lot of space in the bay, piling work benches and other equipment to one side. There were several lines marked on the ground that held no meaning for her and, in a corner, the Lieutenant was suited up in what looked a mashed-up half-armour. Big chunks of the internal and external plating were missing, and she could see half of his right leg and part of his left shoulder and arm. Bits and pieces were rough and unpolished as if they had just come out from the forge, standing out from the overly-decorated originals. Funny enough, he was wearing a rounded helmet with what seemed like a sort of visor. Several very-much-unfinished cables dangled to the sides of his exposed neck, attaching the helmet to the armour somehow.

A thick black cable was connected to the middle of the chest piece while another one hooked just beneath the engine. They were suspended from the ceiling like oversized hoses, mounted on rails so they could move, trembling when the engine roared into life, ungeared.

Ana and Gabriel reached the large box where Jack was sitting, suited for combat. His rifle and visor were nowhere to be seen, which made Ana cock her head. Maybe they did not plan to shoot at the Lieutenant, after all. Maybe they just wanted to have some sort of macho display of fists and muscles. She did not know what was worse, though.

"You've not suited up, Gabe."

"Assessment's been cancelled," the Commander jumped stupidly high thanks to his enhanced super-soldier body and joined his friend atop of the box. Bastards. She humphed and went looking for Torbjörn. He was on a metallic platform from where he could see practically everything around, holding a device covered in buttons of some sort.

"I see you have been having fun," she told him, and the engineer grinned.

"Glad to see you back on your feet, Captain," he saluted briefly. "And yes, we've been doing some experimenting."

He produced a comm unit for her from one of his pockets and she equipped it. The Lieutenant seemed to be standing idly, but she could see the fingers of the armour twitching-first randomly, then in order. Then they flexed, forming large fists.

"What are you testing?"

"All of it. I practically dismantled the whole thing and put it back together."

"Gabriel said the Lieutenant is helping you."

"When he's not passed out on the ground like an oversized bag of potatoes, yes," he chuckled, and Ana tried hard not to hide her face in her hands. "He knows more than I gave him credit for and that has speed up many design points."

"You made him a helmet."

"Please, a tactical visor. A hearing enhancement. It has comms, ventilation. Even music, if he feels inclined," the short man raised a finger for each, then turned towards the armour. "Hey, how're things there?"

"Back plate is overheating," they heard the Lieutenant say. The audio was cracking, actually, but Ana guessed it was due to the helmet being halfway done. "Arms seem a bit stiff."

"That may be you and not the armour, Lieutenant."

"Captain! Glad to see you around," he laughed heartily and turned around, flexing his bulky armoured arms at her and walking in a little circle so she could appreciate the work.

"Right. We've got them all here already. You think you can do a demonstration?" Torbjörn's voice sounded proud, confident. "I have some dummies ready."

"Of course!" He chuckled at the comm, excited.

Torbjörn's pressed a couple of buttons, and a hatch in the wall furthest to their left opened up. Three robots of different sizes popped out. They were no more than a chassis with wheels and a plate, although one of them was thicker, bulkier. With a nudge to another button, the robots rolled to different places marked with crosses on the ground.

The Lieutenant walked as far as the cables allowed him, placing him around ten feet from the first robot. They were roughly on a line and, way behind them, there was a concrete wall that marked the end of the engineering bay. Ana crossed her arms. The amount of space suggested they intended to test the charge indoors at some point, which may not be a great idea. Still, she trusted the engineer. He knew his job, the risks, and the challenges. If he thought they could do this in a safe, controlled manner, she would say nothing about it.

What intrigued her was the number of robots. Why three?

"Ok, let's do this. I see all green here, Reinhardt. Thoughts?"

"All green here, too. Let's see if it's true," he chuckled, bending to retrieve the rocket hammer from the ground. He jumped on site a couple of times, the heavy suit clanking against the slatted floor, and then off he went.

The ground trembled literally as he ran, hammer in hand. Hydraulics or not, watching him move that weight was nothing sort of impressive. He swung the hammer-which was likely to weigh the same as Ana- without stopping, and the robot exploded into pieces that flew off over Jack and Gabriel's heads, reaching the other side of the bay. In front of him, at more than twenty feet, was the next robot, but he stepped to his right, balanced the hammer for an instant and freaking threw it as if was nothing.

It made a hole on the wall, taking half of the third robot with it.

"Holy shit," Ana heard one of the boys over the box say, but the Lieutenant was not done. The engine at his back roared and she grabbed the rails of the platform.

The Lieutenant charged the remaining robot. He pinned it effortlessly with his forearm and kept heading forward. The thick main feeding the back of the armour disconnected with a rain of sparks as he crashed the poor thing against the wall.

Just-he did not actually crash. He merely bounced back with a loud thud of metallic boots on the floor. Ana frowned. Not that she wanted him to slam against a wall, but that was unexpected. There was no dent in the armour or in the helmet that she could see. The robot was crushed. She still could not believe it.

"Aaand that's just half the power of the engine," Torbjörn put his hands on his hips, grinning at Ana. "He should be able to halve a Bastion at full power-if he hasn't blown it to smithereens with that hammer first, that is."

"You are really invested in this."

The Lieutenant patted the helmet. The audio cracked and frizzed, and suddenly they could hear him.

"Was it any good?" He said, turning towards the broken pieces at his side. He went to pick the hammer from the ground and grunted in pain, letting it fall flat again.

"All good there, my oversized friend?" Torbjörn walked down the platform, and Ana found herself following him. She watched the large armour walk slowly towards the main that had disconnected from its chest and plug it again.

"Charging may have not been the best idea," the Lieutenant chuckled on the comm, voice strained as he walked slowly towards them.

"Ah, but it was impressive, I assure you. We'll get you more meds in a moment."

"When did you adopt him, Torb?" She asked, eyebrow raised. "It is not like you to collect lost things."

"Ah, the other night we had some beers," he waved a hand. "He's a good chap, silly as hell. He can use a chance."

The Lieutenant had stopped in front of them by the time Ana and the engineer reached Gabriel and Jack, and he took the helmet off with a large hand. It was still hooked with cables, so he let it dangle over his chest. The bruise was changing colours already, but the blond stubble did not hide the overall tiredness on his face or how his eyes wrinkled every now and then.

Ana pursed her lips; she should make Gabriel to sort the Med Bay as soon as possible. They were short of everything-starting with funding, and ending with drugs and nanites, That really impaired the ability of the non-super-soldiers to be operative again quickly after injury.

"Well, well, impressive, Lieutenant," Gabriel clapped his hands a couple of times, breaking the silence that had descended over them. "I, for one, was not expecting you to be a killing machine."

"A crushing machine, maybe," he looked down for a moment, humble but pleased. "My aim was a bit off, unfortunately."

"It was fantastic. Jackie here will be delighted to do your assessment," he patted him on the shoulder, and Jack looked at him as if he had committed the worst crime in history.

"Not now," Ana crossed her arms.

"Not now, not now. Jack definitely will need to train quite a lot if he wants a chance," he burst out laughing, and Jack put an arm around his neck with a terrible, murderous smile painted on his face.

"Oh no, both of us will be training," he squeezed the Strike Commander's neck. "But, didn't you have a shield, Lieutenant?"

"Barrier is not operative at the moment, I'm afraid," he raised his left arm slightly, where parts were missing.

"We didn't have time to prepare it all, you guys were impatient to see him in action," Torbjörn crossed his arms.

"Were they, now?" She made a thin line with her mouth, and Jack pushed Gabriel towards her, mouthing his fault . Of course it was. The Strike Commander just shrugged. "I suggest we wait at least a week before we have this conversation again, during which there will be no assessments and no strenuous tests on the armour while it is half-done."

He was her Commander and she would rather not kick him in the nuts in front of others, but he deserved it. Irresponsible little shit. She deserved more than one doughnut.

"Agree," the Lieutenant half-raised a hand. When the rest stood in silence, he continued. "It'll help the assessment, I think."

"Ah, to hell with the assessment," Gabriel rolled his eyes and put a hand on his hip, theatrically. "You'll have a three-month probation period, which is more than enough time to get that armour fixed and some Omnic arses kicked as assessment. Anyone disapprove? No? Then welcome to Overwatch, Lieutenant Wilhelm."

There he went again, all rush. Ana snorted but, before she could mentally disapprove of his methods as the situation required, the Lieutenant dropped to a knee.

"Thank you," he said, all solemnity. "I swear on my Crusader vows I will not disappoint you."

Torbjörn clanked his metallic arm work-aid against the armour, and the Strike Commander boomed:

"Let's celebrate!"