In the confines of the hallway in this section of Overwatch headquarters, Gabriel Reyes strode with clear purpose. Each step in his stride curt and focused, with no wasted movements whatsoever, as if he was back marching in a parade field performing drill and ceremony movements again when he was still a recruit from a half a lifetime ago. He usually didn't visit this particular area in the complex often (by usually, it meant he never really bothered) but an hour earlier, a respected colleague said he wanted to meet and talk about something important.

Details regarding the subject were somewhat vague at best, but the message he received from his terminal an hour earlier had informed him of an unexpected development concerning the recent Overwatch op in Korea. He didn't particularly see why they needed to talk about it, and he was mostly certain that he didn't have a reason to give a damn about it. From what he had read in the pre-mission packet, it looked like another regular incursion by the omnics, in an area they typically frequent every few years or so for God knows what and why; as to why he needed to be kept in the loop he really didn't know, since routine missions like this were within the purview of the mainline peacekeeping organization, and not of his dedicated sub-unit embedded within.

His colleague knew this, at least he thought the man knew about it, so it made him all the more curious as to why they needed to discuss something both knew were just not worthy of their respective times, and he just needlessly went along with it.

He may not visit this place frequently, if at all, but he made sure he knew where to go beforehand by looking up the place's layout. He wouldn't be a good field operative if he didn't know where he was going, and he'd like to think he was one of the best. It didn't take long before he finally found the place at the end of the hallway.

Reyes stood in front of the door and pressed the "button" below the office's holographic nameplate, where he was rewarded with a pleasant chime reminiscent of a doorbell.

"Enter," a disembodied but familiar voice called out from seemingly out of nowhere, and the door in front of him slid itself open sideways with a barely audible hiss. Without wasting a beat, he went inside and had the door close behind him.

"Ah, Gabriel!" The man sitting behind the minimalist desk greeted him warmly as he stood up to welcome him. "Come in, come in."

"You said you wanted to talk." The commander of Blackwatch replied brusquely as he walked further into the man's sizeable office, until he stood just opposite of him and his desk.

"I did," Gérard Lacroix, head of Overwatch's field intelligence department, answered. "Can I offer you anything? Tea, coffee, brandy, scotch?"

"No, thank you."

Lacroix went back to his seat without preamble, leaning forward with his elbows splayed on the desk and hands clasped forward, indicating that he was giving him his undivided attention.

"Please do take a seat." The man offered, but he elected to continue standing. Lacroix just took it in stride and went on. "Before we start, how are things in the Unit?"

He didn't know whether he should feel flattered or not from the suave Frenchman's efforts. If it were any other person, Reyes probably never would have bothered with the pleasantries and bulldozed through it entirely. But the man before him was highly-intelligent, dedicated, and was without question the most skillful spook he had ever met. Also didn't hurt that the man pulled his ass out of the fire in Cape Town, during an op gone bad due to shitty intel, and was thus worthy of his begrudging respect. It wouldn't be too bad to indulge him, and he seemed to care enough about him and what his guys did.

"Could be better," the former Marine said, "not enough personnel in the field, and too many missions needing to be accomplished."

"That sounds rough," Lacroix said sympathetically, "I'm probably not helping, since more than half of the missions' you people do is being tasked from my department."

"Yeah, no shit," Reyes said gruffly, but with a tinge of black humor. He could count the number of people he could joke around with just one hand, and Lacroix was one of the rare few. "It hasn't gone to a point where mission effectiveness is gonna suffer, but we're definitely starting to feel the strain. Op-tempo just keeps on rising due to demand, and there's not enough guys to fill in the holes so our deployments are longer than usual."

"Is recruitment not filling the ranks fast enough?"

Reyes made an uncharacteristic snort.

"We barely get anyone, man. Our job ain't exactly glamorous and publicity-worthy, so not a lot people know we exist and sign up. Plus, not everyone has the stomach to do what needs to be done."

"Oui," the Frenchman nodded in understanding, "that is true."

Both men were cut from the same cloth, seeing as they were in the intelligence business, and they both religiously understand the importance solid intel could bring to the table. Not a lot of people knew it, but the reason why Overwatch was able to do the things they do was because of the immense information they had in their disposal, gathered from either people in the field, signals intercept, or through other means.

Actionable intelligence was the lifeblood of this very organization, which was tasked with either keeping the peace or making it by any means necessary. While the Overwatch agents who do the high-profile assignments usually get the glory and adulation from the masses, it was generally the intelligence personnel who made sure it was possible for them to conduct the very same strikes they were lauded for, by providing them the exact location, disposition, and strength of adversaries they were going to encounter; or even if there were any adversaries at all to contend with, since they were the ones trying to prove their existence and how much threat they posed to the free world. They didn't get as much glory (if any) and it was usually a very thankless job.

To say how underappreciated and underrated the intelligence arm of this organization was could very well be the understatement of the century, and it was one of the main sticking points he had to contend with Morrison, who usually took every bit of intelligence given for granted.

"Anyways," Lacroix said, pulling him out of his reverie, "how much do you know of the recent debacle in Korea?"

"Not much," Reyes admitted, "all I heard was that the omnics went there and raised all kinds of hell."

"Close enough. The rogue omnics came from the east coast of the Korean peninsula and tried launching a coordinated assault our analysts say was aimed at the MEKA base in Kangnung. Your countrymen denied Overwatch's offer for assistance and tried to stop the incursion themselves, but they were…somewhat unsuccessful in their efforts."

"Meaning?"

Lacroix just grabbed a datapad that was on top of his desk and wordlessly gave it to him, which he received with an outstretched arm.

"Damn." The Blackwatch commander said after reviewing the after-action reports. He wasn't the biggest fan of the US Air Force (his prior service bias aside) but their losses were staggering compared to the number of enemy units they successfully downed.

Even with numbers on their side, they still couldn't stop the omnic onslaught. If Reinhardt and his team had listened to Uncle Sam's insistence that everything was under control and they just stood down, the casualties probably would've been twice as high.

"My heart bleeds for them, it really does," he continued, "but what does this have to do with me?"

"During their assault, they manage to commandeer an American fighter jet and its pilot to give them air cover during their insertion. Everything was going fine until the pilot told Winston halfway through his job that the omnics were sending a combat air patrol to their location. Four drones."

Reyes could somewhat see where this was going, but kept his mouth shut to let the man continue.

"Winston asked him to buy them some time, and by all accounts, it seems like he did. Apparently, they lost contact with the pilot the moment he went to intercept and thought he had failed when they saw two drones barreling down on their position. Reinhardt was about to order them to disperse when both omnic aircraft suddenly exploded halfway through their attack vector."

"Four against one, huh? Not bad, cutting it a bit close though." Reyes stated to no-one in particular. That was pretty ballsy for a fighter jock. "What's next? He came swooping in like a knight in shining armor or some dumb shit like that?"

"Actually, his plane crashed after being hit with a surface-to-air missile."

"Oh." He hadn't expected that, somewhat feeling sorry for the poor bastard. He may not know much about air combat but being blasted out of the sky and then crashing like a meteor was a shitty way to go. Wait, crashed? "Why didn't he eject?"

"According to the plane's black box, the missile took out most of the critical systems, including the ejection system."

"Jesus."

"Exactement." Lacroix agreed. "The pauvre bâtard should be dead, but it would look as if luck was on his side that day."

"What do you mean, 'should be?'" Reyes asked.

"When they failed to raise him on the radio, they managed to track down his crash site and went off to him post-haste. When they arrived, he was…how do you say it, 'hanging on by a thread?'"

"Yeah."

"He almost did not survive the engagement, where it not for Angela's timely intervention." Lacroix smiled at the mention of the Swiss prodigy's name. "God bless that woman."

"Where's he now?"

"He's with Reinhardt's team en route back to HQ."

"Wait, what?" He asked, confused. "Why didn't they just hand off the poor SOB back to his unit?"

"According to Miss Ziegler his condition, although stable right now, is still very critical." The spook replied. "Riding through a crashing plane did not do wonders to his body, and she mentions that the Americans do not have the necessary resources to fully heal the young man. And even if they did, they are currently preoccupied with other casualties and are spread too thin."

"And they just agreed to had him over? Just like that?"

Lacroix gave out another smile and told him how Reinhardt managed to get into their good graces by assisting their efforts in recovering their people, and then asking if they could keep the beleaguered pilot so they could fully heal him, through Overwatch's expense. Reyes couldn't help but snicker a little bit in amusement at the German giant's slight manipulation, even though it was for the greater good. He had to admit, he didn't think the crusader had it in him.

"Well, I hope the kid gets all the help he needs. Looks like he's more than earned it, and then some." Reyes exclaimed with some measure of sincerity, then went on. "Still, it begs the question though, what's all this got do with me? I get it, the kid's a damn natural in kicking omnic ass in the air. Did you bring me in here so I could help write the kid a commendation or something? Because if that's the case, I don't necessarily mind. Although, that's way more up Morrison's alley than mine."

"Take a look at the pilot's name."

"What's that got to do with—"

"Please?" Lacroix asked pleasantly with an annoyingly disarming smile.

"Oh, for God's sake—fine." He responded begrudgingly, with some difficulty on his part. Way to hand it to the spook to get him to do something for him.

He viewed the datapad again and sifted through Reinhard's own report on the incursion, then read the part on the recovery of the USAF pilot, a first lieutenant by the name of Hawkins.

Wait a sec—Reyes narrowed his eyes in apprehension. Why the hell does that name sound so familiar?

He decided to do a quick database check on the name and was automatically relegated to the kid's official Air Force personnel dossier, including his official portrait.

His blood suddenly ran cold, as his eyes started to widen in surprise.

"Oh. Fuck."

"Oui." Lacroix said simply, not even bothering to hide his amusement anymore.

Same green eyes but they looked a shade bit darker, his brown hair was lighter than what Reyes remembered, and the kid had some spatter of freckles around the bridge of his nose. But those differences aside, the resemblance was eerily similar. Same facial structure, same purposeful look. It was like looking at a ghost, and the thought of which gave him an unnatural shudder.

"Didn't know the bastard had a kid."

"It would appear so." The Frenchman said, smile still held in place. "But it would also seem that God has a wicked sense of humor."

"No kidding." The Blackwatch commander said noncommittally as he put the datapad down. This was insanely surreal.

"You mentioned in passing that you were looking to find a very skillful pilot for Blackwatch, no?"

He'd known Lacroix a while, but he never thought he would see him being the smuggest bastard in the world right now, and he kinda wanted to punch him in the face and put him in his place.

"Commander, meet Nathaniel Emerson Hawkins."