November 7th, Watchpoint: Gibraltar

"I told you, I told you, I don't know where the treasure is!"

The screeching did nothing but intensify the lights beaming down on the Australian terrorist. Soldier:76 squinted. This would be almost a week of interrogation now, and his patience was wearing thin.

"If you're referring to the riches you obtained in Ayutthaya, they could be at the bottom of the ocean for all I care. I'm asking you to tell me about what was going on in the Talon base in Dorado. Now, if you want to keep what few limbs you still possess, I'd suggest you start talking."

Junkrat's face screwed up as if he'd been forced to eat a lemon.

"Now you listen here, you drongo." He growled, raising his pointed finger as high as his restraints would allow it. "You better take all that back or else you'll regret it! That is in no way an acceptable way to treat a young spunk like myself! I am a guest in this establishment and demand to be treated like one! Where is your hospitality? Where around here can a good man get any respect? I tell you I have not gotten a single refreshment since..."

Soldier:76 slammed his forehead into his hand. Kids, these days.

Junkrat rambled on, oblivious to the fact that his interrogator was no longer listening. The door to the questioning room opened, granting Shrike access to the room. Her comrade looked up, surprised.

"I thought you were still sifting through the last of those blueprints?" He asked

Ana let out a snort. "As if any work could be done with all that noise coming through the glass. Why don't you let me do the questioning?"

Morrison glanced at the captive, still foolishly yapping about the state of his affairs.

"Go ahead. He's already gone through the other interrogators. We don't have much to lose."

The sniper shrugged. "Watch and learn, sadiq. Sometimes, it takes a woman to know."

They traded places, Ana taking a seat in the interrogator's chair, and Morrison taking her place in the observation room. The Aussie, who had still been babbling on about his horrendous living conditions until now, finally realized that there had been a change in staff. He straightened, trying to get a feel for the newest addition to the room.

Morrison went to check up on the progress Shrike had made in processing the final pockets of data. He booted up Athena's servers, taking a look at what had been unencrypted. The system flickered briefly, but readjusted, allowing him to access the contents. After what seemed and eternity of sifting through maps and going over a stray report sent to him about a dancing robot, he turned his attention back to the questioning chamber.

From behind the two-way mirror, Soldier:76 could see his partner leaning across the table, whispering. He turned the dial on the playback device, increasing the volume. Ana's voice came through, soft and sweet.

"...is rather impressive, if you ask me. It would have taken me days to set up all those explosives. And that building was just destroyed so utterly. How did you do it? I just have to know."

He watched as Junkrat's face lit up with a grin, his demeanor changed completely from when he was previously in the room. Despite the shackles binding his arms to the chair, the Aussie puffed his chest with pride. When he spoke, the excitement in his voice was barely contained.

"Well, sheila, I tell you this: I know my way around explosives. I set up every one of them remote controlled bombs, and I did it all in under 48 measly hours. Every hall, every room. Nothing escapes the fire that is Jamison Junkrat the Great!"

"Oh my!" Purred Ana. "That is impressive! But how did you manage to set them up in the main computer room? We were told that it would be heavily guarded, but not a trace of hardware was left."

Junkrat laughed. "Oh, you mean the big ol' lab with the hi tech rig? No, no, no. All the security for that was electronic! Purple lady let me in when I told her I had official business. Smart of me, wasn't it? She played right into my hands!" At this, he bit his lip. "Truth is, though, mate... They don't even keep anything good in there. That set up? It's all just some device that encrypts data. Apparently all the important stuff was taken out the day before. What a bummer, amiright?"

In the darkness of the observation room, Morrison frowned. Could it really have been a coincidence for the God Program to have been moved the day before Overwatch laid out a secret attack?

No, he thought. It had to be. The only ones who knew about the operation beforehand were those organizing the mission, and select Vishkar's personnel. Nevertheless, the aged soldier made a quick mental note to keep an eye out for moles in the future.

Having enough for the time being, the former Overwatch leader left the device on record and went back to the blueprints.

o-o-o-o-o

Talon safe house, unknown location

Reaper slouched in the corner of the dark safe house, taking a moment to skim the day's news headlines. Not a meter away stood his old friend, Akande Ogundimu. The man boasted a broad and imposing figure, with an attitude to match. He lifted the curtains, peering out into the night. A few people here and there roamed the streets, with not a soldier in sight.

"It seems as though the masses have calmed significantly." He said.

Reaper nodded. Lately, with so much going on, people were doused in fear, constantly waiting for the next disaster. They didn't have time to let their minds linger.

"So what do you plan to do now, Akande? We both know Talon isn't quite ready to welcome you with open arms."

Doomfist gave a snort. "It is the nature of the hierarchy. A constant battle to cling to their leadership. Competitors are never good of news for the weakest links."

"Speaking of weak links," Said Reaper "the current 'leader' of our God project is starting to lose nerve. I hear that he's become reclusive and paranoid. Almost too much to function. Out of anyone, he would be your best target, after Vialli."

The comment elicited a laugh from his friend. "Eager, are we? Don't worry, your position as one of Talon's leaders is secure. As one falls, another rises. That has always been the way we weed out the weak. Although, if what you tell me is true, we may not even need to get our hands dirty."

It was true. A mutiny was rising, that much was certain. All they would need to do is wait and sweep up the prize once the fighting was done.

"And what of Sombra?" Rasped the wraith. "There's no doubt that she's behind the bulk of all this. She's not the type to fall for any of his antics, either."

Akande cracked his knuckles. "Let me take care of the raccoon. You just keep an eye out for any other abnormalities. I'll be seeing you in Italy."

o-o-o-o-o

Watchpoint: Gibraltar

Pharah walked up the steel steps of the watchpoint in a hurry. Her squadron's weekly training had gone on for longer than anticipated. She spared a glance at her watch.

3:07pm. I'm late.

The Egyptian readjusted her grip on the heavy crate in her arms and continued up the staircase. Her arms and legs were begging for rest, but there was no time to delay. At last, she arrived at the top of the staircase and made her way down the hall to room 318.

Pharah cleared her throat nervously. Get it together! You're a soldier, for God's sake!

She exhaled in an attempt to rid the butterflies of her stomach, and knocked on the door. There was a rustling on the other side, followed by the distinct "click" of the lab door opening. It gave way to a familiar visage.

"Fareeha!" Greeted Mercy with a smile."It's good to see you. Come in; I'm sure that the box you're holding is quite heavy."

The doctor held open the door as Pharah stepped inside.

"Where would you like the crate?" She asked, looking around. Early November light streamed into the lab, illuminating the vicinity. The main desk was cluttered as always. Papers and charts covered much of the table's surface, leaving little room for the computer and writing utensils. The other three tables weren't much better. Save for the floor, there weren't many places that she could put the heavy crate.

"Oh, anywhere you like." Mercy said. She proceeded to clear off the table nearest to the window."I was so caught up in my work, I lost track of the time. I'm so sorry for the mess."

The soldier shrugged it off. Some things never change. She thought, as the other woman sorted through the mess.

While this was only her second such meeting since the rescue mission in Dorado, coming over for tea used to be a common occurrence in the past. Even if the blonde could not remember the times they shared together, Pharah was grateful that the medic seemed to enjoy it whenever she came over.

After placing the box down, the dark haired woman made her way to the table to two steaming mugs of black tea. Angela breathed in, savoring the aromatic steam.

She's as beautiful as ever.

"My thanks again for bringing the research equipment to the lab for me." Chirped the Swiss woman. She wrapped her hands around the mug, taking in the warmth.

Pharah shook her head. "There's no need for thanks. I offered." She leaned forward, scrutinizing the doctor's face. "How have you been faring, with the memory loss?"

The medic frowned and laid down her mug. "If I'm honest with you, it's still a little unsettling. There are still many who expect me to know things that I still can't recall. Faces, mostly. But Lena assures me that it will come with time. That there's no rush."

"Oxten?" Questioned Pharah. "It's good to see that you two get along. I was unsure, at first, if you'd have enough space to yourself."

A light blush painted its way across the blonde's cheeks, then faded. "Oh no, I'm very grateful to have her here. She offers ample comfort and reassurance. Although, sometimes I wonder if I ever will remember everything..." Her mood shifted

Seeing the worry in the others' eyes, Pharah reached over and took Mercy's hand in her own.

"Angela... Regardless of what you can or can't remember, I will never leave you behind. I will be here, without question." She paused. "That goes for all your friends, as well."

For better or for worse, Mercy seemed too preoccupied to pick up on the connotations of what was just said. She gave Pharah's hand a small squeeze and gave a weak smile. Both of them seemed to have forgotten their beverages for the time being.

"You know," Started Pharah. "back when my mother had only just disappeared, I remember feeling so lost. She was so important to me, and I could not imagine a life without her. I was alone in the world. Or so I had thought. It was during my lowest point that I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned, and was pulled into an embrace. 'You're not alone, Fareeha... We will be here for you. Overwatch is your family, now and always.' I was told. No matter what, you will have that same support."

Angela's smile brightened. "Really?"

Pharah looked at her with a soft smile. "Really."

She never expected her to remember that day.

Mercy smiled. "You're right. I may have lost my memories, but I have yet to lose my friends."

Sitting in peaceful silence, they watched the sun steadily make its way to the end of the horizon.

"I hear that you will be going on another mission soon." Said Mercy.

The Overwatch captain nodded. "According to data that was retrieved with Athena's help, there are numerous research facilities affiliated with Talon that may be linked to recent events. Several agents were assigned to help Soldier:76 and Shrike to infiltrate one of them in particular, myself included."

"...Have you spoken to your mother at all, since the last time?"

"Unfortunately not. I plan to let her come to me first, this time. What she did was inexcusable, but if tries to come to me with an explanation, I don't think it has to be something unforgivable. I just want to see for myself if she still cares enough to make that first step."

"I see." In the short span of two weeks, the two women had become rather close. Mercy could tell that her friend was trying to stay strong, despite how removed her response was. Deciding it was time to change the subject, the medic got up and stretched.

"Did you want to see the newest vaccine I've been working on? This year's dose is coming along wonderfully, and I'd love your opinion."

They finished their cold tea and proceeded to enjoy further small talk as the evening wore on. Eventually, however, the time came for them both to leave. The two got up and walked to the door, setting the time for their next weekly meeting, and parted ways.

o-o-o-o-o

With November setting in in earnest, Gibraltar was starting to see its first rounds of snow. To combat the cold, many of the off-duty soldiers chose to congregate in the cafeteria, where coffee and shared body heat was readily available. Lena had scanned the crowded eating area herself in hopes of getting something to eat, only to find that not a seat was available. She sighed.

In the past, Gibraltar was actually known for its warmer climates. But these days, weather was far from predictable, and this region particularly was known to get cold, quickly. And as great as it was to have state of the art technology, it came with a price - in this case, a no-touch rule on virtually every thermostat.

Grabbing a quick snack from the vending machine, Tracer made her way to the next best place to warm up - the Forge. She dashed eagerly down into the watchpoint's basement floors.

The cheery Brit was neither hindered by the absurd amounts of scrap around the workshop entrance, nor the intimidating sign on the door itself. She giggled a little at the plaque, which read in bold text:

KEEP OUT. AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY

If I catch you touching my stuff, you're gonna lose an arm!

The last line had been inscribed by the hand of Torbjörn himself.

As soon as she was in the door, Tracer could feel the heat wash over her. The furnace was aglow with molten metal, outlining in red the mechanic that was feeding it.

"Heya!" She greeted, making herself comfortable on the nearby couch. She unwrapped her granola bar and started to gnaw on the tough morsel.

The Swedish man before her scowled. "Lena! I keep tellin' you to knock, or at least use the bell! Is it really that hard?"

Tracer shrugged. "I just figure if you wanted to be left alone, you'd shut your door properly. It's never locked."

There was a small creak as the storage door gave way to a familiar bastion unit. It made its way over to the forge, hands chock full of scrap. It pranced over to the table, cocked its head, then shoved the pieces forcefully onto the stone surface.

"Hey! Careful with that, ya tin can!" Torbjörn exclaimed. He shook his head, turning to the bastion. "If the scrap gets smashed, it can result in an inferior product."

The robot raised his hands. "Bwooooo!"

The mechanic sighed. "Alright. Break time it is. Take this, Lena. Whatever it is yer eating certainly doesn't look appealing." He tossed Tracer a small package of cardamom muffins.

She grinned, opening the pack. "Cheers."

The two were midway through their meal when a ringing blared out into the forge. Torbjörn bolted upright.

"Oj! I forgot that Winston said he needed a little talk. You! Bastion! Get in the supply closet. Go on!"

He waved at the machine, which just looked at him inquisitively. In a flash, Lena was at his side. "Alright, now. In we go!"

Winston's voice boomed through the door. "Torbjörn? I'm coming in. Do you have company over?"

The door opened just as Tracer fitted the bastion inside, hiding him from view. She leaned against the closet as nonchalantly as she could manage.

"Oh, hey there, luv! Fancy seeing you here!"

Winston adjusted his glasses, eyes taking in the scene. "Lena! Of course. Forgive me, I just thought I heard something rather strange..."

"Hahaha, nooo. Just having something for dinner. Just me and Torbjörn. Say, what brings you here?" She asked, hoping to change the direction of the conversation.

"Ah." Said the gorilla, retrieving some papers from his coat. "Just some orders for some more armor. There have been some startling reports of agents or people of interest who refused the invitation during the recall suddenly going missing in various places. I was thinking of sending a few people out to gather some information. In fact, I was going to hand this to you. I guess this saves me the trouble of looking."

He handed her an envelope of her own before turning to the mechanic.

"The armor would need to be light and discrete. Something that can be worn under our agents' clothing. Do you think it can be done?"

Torbjörn gave a small huff. "Of course it can be done. I suppose I'll have my head swimming with work soon enough. How long do I have?"

"I was hoping as soon as possible. My apologies, but its just been happening so suddenly..."

"As if time constraints can stop me, so long as I have the space in my workshop. Now if there's nothing else to be said about it, you two should leave me to my work. I have things to take care of."

He looked at Tracer, motioning to the closet as discretely as he could. The Brit nodded, leading Winston out the door with her.

"Right. Let's give Torb some space."

Now outside the Forge, Tracer had time to review the contents of the envelope. She was to be deployed in King's Row, where an agent had reportedly gone missing just a day prior. Using the local teleportation network, they should be able to slip in and out easily, with minimal disruption. A simple observation mission, it would take no more than a day. As always, Talon was the primary suspect.

"I know that your last clash with Talon in King's Row ended rather badly, but it's unlikely that they have a solid presence in England. Given that you lived there for an extended period of time, you know the area best."

Tracer nodded. She wasn't going to let what happened in the past affect her decision. But there was one thing she'd been meaning to ask for a while now.

"Hey, Winston... About my Chronal Accelerator..."

o-o-o-o-o

Translations:

sadiq = friend

sheila = woman (australian slang)

Oj! = An interjection, akin to "oops" or "oh"