Hello everyone 
Not sure how many of these I'll actually do. But I've been playing alot of...
Not sure how many of these I'll actually do. But I've been playing alot of...
Overwatch shorts
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Bien Hecho
LD1449
To the last; Kill them all
- Location
- The other side of the labyrinth.
Hello everyone Not sure how many of these I'll actually do. But I've been playing alot of Overwatch recently and after reading a small fanmade comic strip, I got an idea for at least one short in my head that I had to put to paper, so, after taking an hour to write it, here it is Hopefully you'll all enjoy it, or maybe be inspired to write your own we need more Overwatch in our lives.
(X)(X)(X)
He's on the ground… staring up at a face he hasn't seen in years, looking down the barrel of a gun… about to die.
He's been here before.
The first time… it was an Omnic.
Bastion unit 0048Q. He remembers that number like a brand.
His first real brush with death. The first time his skills didn't carry him through all the way.
His hands are up, blocking a fist, an elbow, then a hard kick that actually hurt. He laughed, smiling at the irritated glare he receives in response.
Then Jack was there, Jack, Ana, Reinhart, pumping the thing full of holes, with Jack helping him up as Ana tossed his shotgun back at him. And they're back to back, firing off at every tin can that crawls out of the woodwork to try and stop them.
The second time…
The second time was against Jack.
Fires raged all around them, blood soaking his clothes. His blood… and Jack's.
Their world collapses around them, this fragile little bubble that Strike Commander Morrison tried so hard to keep together with bare wire and spit.
Fitting.
There's a bullet through his gut. Another in his thigh.
He can barely move as the flames creep closer.
Then he hears the ringing in his ears, feels the heat and the sting of pain.
A bullet hole is next to his head.
He grits his teeth and moves peering through the flames and finding Jack's eyes shining with an equal hatred as the farce crumbles around to bury the both of them forever…
The blows against him are precise. Good form and strong. But he has experience, and each counter is just as precise, just as strong. He's still holding back and its enough to send his opponent to the ground with a grunt of frustration.
He rises from the burning remains of the swiss base, like Morrison. A different man. Something… more… Something less.
He kills.
He hunts them down for what they did. What they made of him. Snuff's out their lives one by one.
It's easy.
He trained them. He taught them all their tricks.
That didn't mean he taught them all of his.
They don't even pose a challenge. Its years before he's threatened by anything. Before he even feels pain again.
At the hands of a Monkey of all things.
That Tesla canon nearly kills him. Its the first time he's felt himself on the verge of dying as he is now. With what he's become. If it wasn't for a quick teleportation, he would have died.
They fight again. He actually has to laugh at the stubborn determination there. The desire to win. To prove something.
But he doesn't. And as angry as he is, he finds it thrilling. A challenge. When the ape calls back Overwatch, and Talon offers him a chance to fight the naive monkey again, he takes it at a discount.
Its embarrassing to have lost twice. Next time, he won't get so overconfident. He'll just put the shotgun round in his face!
The fight goes on. He's not tired, but his oponent is. And yet, still he can see the determination, the drive to beat him. To win. The refusal to accept anything less than finally surpassing him…
Maybe one day.
Overwatch… a new one is born.
Rising from the ashes of the old.
Led by a Monkey of all things.
Lena is the first to return. Coming to Winston's call like she'd been waiting for it.
And of the old team… his old team… Reinhart is the first to return. Then Torbjorn. The old war dog longing for purpose again and the dwarf ready to fight the return of the Omnics.
Then there's the Shimada, dragging along his criminal brother. Angela returns right after him, following her pet bionic experiment.
Even the ingrate drags himself out of his hole in the desert.
Others he doesn't recognize… and one that he does. All wanting to join. All wanting to be heroes.
A new Generation...
Finally… Jack crawls back to them, even Ana pulls herself from the grave.
They're all there.
The ones he's hunted for so long.
And so he fights them… Hunts them.
Again and again, time, after time.
But these are not the isolated, lonesome prey.
This is a pack… a team.
They find their ways to survive. To hurt him.
They don't come close to killing him. He's not that sloppy.
But he can't get to them. Not like this. So he bides his time. Lays low. Waits for their guard to drop.
It does.
Surprisingly; it's Jack.
It would come down to him.
It always did.
Their fight through the streets of Dorado brings him back. Back to that place, with the flames and the wrenching steel.
They're older, perhaps even stronger. They've each picked up new tricks along the way.
But Jack could never beat him.
He lands a shot.
It's clean; punching straight through Jack's leg and he's standing over his one time friend, shotgun bared down on his skull.
"This… is how it should have ended."
Then there's someone else, firing down on him, putting a wall of fire between him and Morrison.
He looks up...
Amari.
He fires up at her, bullets moving through the air as they exchange fire through the streets.
He can beat her. He can kill her.
He keeps fighting, every punch, every kick, and manuever is predictable.
Until the one moment its not.
She ducks under one of his swings, he swears she's going to go for an upercut, and instead, she goes for a back-kick that rises straight up into the air, cracking against his jaw and knocking him flat on his ass.
He lays on the ground, blinking up at the overhead lights, wondering what the hell just happened.
His hand reaches to his mouth, pulling away with a wet, sticky red.
He'd almost forgotten he could still bleed.
Then… she's standing over him.
She's panting, wheezing. Hands on her knees as she leans; trying to gulp air down into her lungs.
But she's smiling. Looking at him with such a feeling of proud joy even the pain in his jaw seems to fade a bit.
She holds out her hand to help him up.
Little Fareeha was finally growing up.
He smiles back with bloody teeth.
"Bien hecho, mija"
She dodges and weaves. The suit moving her through the air with speed that made him dizzy, trying to keep up.
He notices his mistake a second after he makes it.
But it's too late.
The rocket she fires from above nearly kills him outright as it hits not half a foot away from him, fires burn at him as he's launched through a wall, he feels his bones break before he shifts into his wraith form, trying to mittigate the damage.
But it's no use. He can't hold it for long, and when he comes to, he can't even move.
He's half buried in rubble, the fires edging closer, the tongues of flame bringing him back to the swiss base.
His hands reach to his stomach, pulling away with a wet, sticky red.
He'd forgotten he could bleed.
Then she's standing over him.
Breathing heavily; her suit whirs and clicks from the scores of damage it had absorbed from his shots. Keeping her safe.
She stares at him with a grim resolution, looking at him with… anger.
She pulls out a gun. And aims it at his head.
Little Fareeha…
All grown up.
He smiles, coughing up blood as his chest weakly rises and falls...
"Bien Hecho mija."
Not sure how many of these I'll actually do. But I've been playing alot of Overwatch recently and after reading a small fanmade comic strip, I got an idea for at least one short in my head that I had to put to paper, so, after taking an hour to write it, here it is Hopefully you'll all enjoy it, or maybe be inspired to write your own we need more Overwatch in our lives. (X)(X)(X)
He's on the ground… staring up at a face he hasn't seen in years, looking down the barrel of a gun… about to die.
He's been here before.
The first time… it was an Omnic.
Bastion unit 0048Q. He remembers that number like a brand.
His first real brush with death. The first time his skills didn't carry him through all the way.
His hands are up, blocking a fist, an elbow, then a hard kick that actually hurt. He laughed, smiling at the irritated glare he receives in response.
Then Jack was there, Jack, Ana, Reinhart, pumping the thing full of holes, with Jack helping him up as Ana tossed his shotgun back at him. And they're back to back, firing off at every tin can that crawls out of the woodwork to try and stop them.
The second time…
The second time was against Jack.
Fires raged all around them, blood soaking his clothes. His blood… and Jack's.
Their world collapses around them, this fragile little bubble that Strike Commander Morrison tried so hard to keep together with bare wire and spit.
Fitting.
There's a bullet through his gut. Another in his thigh.
He can barely move as the flames creep closer.
Then he hears the ringing in his ears, feels the heat and the sting of pain.
A bullet hole is next to his head.
He grits his teeth and moves peering through the flames and finding Jack's eyes shining with an equal hatred as the farce crumbles around to bury the both of them forever…
The blows against him are precise. Good form and strong. But he has experience, and each counter is just as precise, just as strong. He's still holding back and its enough to send his opponent to the ground with a grunt of frustration.
He rises from the burning remains of the swiss base, like Morrison. A different man. Something… more… Something less.
He kills.
He hunts them down for what they did. What they made of him. Snuff's out their lives one by one.
It's easy.
He trained them. He taught them all their tricks.
That didn't mean he taught them all of his.
They don't even pose a challenge. Its years before he's threatened by anything. Before he even feels pain again.
At the hands of a Monkey of all things.
That Tesla canon nearly kills him. Its the first time he's felt himself on the verge of dying as he is now. With what he's become. If it wasn't for a quick teleportation, he would have died.
They fight again. He actually has to laugh at the stubborn determination there. The desire to win. To prove something.
But he doesn't. And as angry as he is, he finds it thrilling. A challenge. When the ape calls back Overwatch, and Talon offers him a chance to fight the naive monkey again, he takes it at a discount.
Its embarrassing to have lost twice. Next time, he won't get so overconfident. He'll just put the shotgun round in his face!
The fight goes on. He's not tired, but his oponent is. And yet, still he can see the determination, the drive to beat him. To win. The refusal to accept anything less than finally surpassing him…
Maybe one day.
Overwatch… a new one is born.
Rising from the ashes of the old.
Led by a Monkey of all things.
Lena is the first to return. Coming to Winston's call like she'd been waiting for it.
And of the old team… his old team… Reinhart is the first to return. Then Torbjorn. The old war dog longing for purpose again and the dwarf ready to fight the return of the Omnics.
Then there's the Shimada, dragging along his criminal brother. Angela returns right after him, following her pet bionic experiment.
Even the ingrate drags himself out of his hole in the desert.
Others he doesn't recognize… and one that he does. All wanting to join. All wanting to be heroes.
A new Generation...
Finally… Jack crawls back to them, even Ana pulls herself from the grave.
They're all there.
The ones he's hunted for so long.
And so he fights them… Hunts them.
Again and again, time, after time.
But these are not the isolated, lonesome prey.
This is a pack… a team.
They find their ways to survive. To hurt him.
They don't come close to killing him. He's not that sloppy.
But he can't get to them. Not like this. So he bides his time. Lays low. Waits for their guard to drop.
It does.
Surprisingly; it's Jack.
It would come down to him.
It always did.
Their fight through the streets of Dorado brings him back. Back to that place, with the flames and the wrenching steel.
They're older, perhaps even stronger. They've each picked up new tricks along the way.
But Jack could never beat him.
He lands a shot.
It's clean; punching straight through Jack's leg and he's standing over his one time friend, shotgun bared down on his skull.
"This… is how it should have ended."
Then there's someone else, firing down on him, putting a wall of fire between him and Morrison.
He looks up...
Amari.
He fires up at her, bullets moving through the air as they exchange fire through the streets.
He can beat her. He can kill her.
He keeps fighting, every punch, every kick, and manuever is predictable.
Until the one moment its not.
She ducks under one of his swings, he swears she's going to go for an upercut, and instead, she goes for a back-kick that rises straight up into the air, cracking against his jaw and knocking him flat on his ass.
He lays on the ground, blinking up at the overhead lights, wondering what the hell just happened.
His hand reaches to his mouth, pulling away with a wet, sticky red.
He'd almost forgotten he could still bleed.
Then… she's standing over him.
She's panting, wheezing. Hands on her knees as she leans; trying to gulp air down into her lungs.
But she's smiling. Looking at him with such a feeling of proud joy even the pain in his jaw seems to fade a bit.
She holds out her hand to help him up.
Little Fareeha was finally growing up.
He smiles back with bloody teeth.
"Bien hecho, mija"
She dodges and weaves. The suit moving her through the air with speed that made him dizzy, trying to keep up.
He notices his mistake a second after he makes it.
But it's too late.
The rocket she fires from above nearly kills him outright as it hits not half a foot away from him, fires burn at him as he's launched through a wall, he feels his bones break before he shifts into his wraith form, trying to mittigate the damage.
But it's no use. He can't hold it for long, and when he comes to, he can't even move.
He's half buried in rubble, the fires edging closer, the tongues of flame bringing him back to the swiss base.
His hands reach to his stomach, pulling away with a wet, sticky red.
He'd forgotten he could bleed.
Then she's standing over him.
Breathing heavily; her suit whirs and clicks from the scores of damage it had absorbed from his shots. Keeping her safe.
She stares at him with a grim resolution, looking at him with… anger.
She pulls out a gun. And aims it at his head.
Little Fareeha…
All grown up.
He smiles, coughing up blood as his chest weakly rises and falls...
"Bien Hecho mija."
Scify
It always starts with a lighthouse.
Hmm. Puts me in mind of that thing I posted in the Feels thread.
Also, point of order: it's Reinhardt, not Reinhart.
Also, point of order: it's Reinhardt, not Reinhart.
LD1449
To the last; Kill them all
- Location
- The other side of the labyrinth.
Yup, that's the artwork that inspired it. Though I'd seen it voiced on youtube, not in your post. Didn't get that image out of my head until I wrote it down. Though I made Phara older when she fought 'Gabe' (not reaper) since I think she was like 16-18 when Overwatch went to shit.
LD1449
To the last; Kill them all
- Location
- The other side of the labyrinth.
Ummm when did I say they're hispanic???
Wobulator
Within 1 AU of you!
- Location
- Mars
- Pronouns
- She/Her
They're talking in Spanish?
That's not a sure thing by any means, but generally that means it's their first language.
Especially given that you used "mija", presumably a shortening of "mi hija", which is "my daughter". Kinda weird for a family friend to be calling a girl that if it's Reaper's internal voice.
LD1449
To the last; Kill them all
- Location
- The other side of the labyrinth.
No. Only one that spoke in spanish was Reaper. Mija is a general term of endearment in spanish, little different from when someone like Mcree calls a woman , "Darlin". Its generally used by older people adressing a younger but it is on occasion used by people of similar ages
Wobulator
Within 1 AU of you!
- Location
- Mars
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Huh. Shows what I know, I guess.
The one who cared for her
LD1449
To the last; Kill them all
- Location
- The other side of the labyrinth.
The three men she cared for. And the one who cared for her.
The first; was her husband.
The only thing her first husband ever gave her that was worth something… was Fareeha.
Outside of that, the man was a sniveling weasel. A fool who thought he could control her. Raise his hand to her.
He tried it. Once.
After that the relationship was over. And he no longer had a hand to raise.
When Fareeha was born, she almost called him. Forgave him.
Because her daughter was truly the most important, precious thing in her life from the moment she opened her eyes and let out her first cries.
She raised her with all the love and care she could breathe into every moment. And no matter how hard it got, No matter how much her account shrank with her unable to take more bounty contracts, she would never ever do anything different.
When the crisis came, when armies of machines were burning cities, and killing people by the millions, someone remembered her name. Showed up at her front door with a paycheck large enough for ten lifetimes.
Her one condition, was Fareeha.
Her daughter needed to come with her, be kept safe along with the highest officials.
They allowed it.
And she picked up her rifle again.
That was where she met the second… and the third.
She was older than both of them. Not by much, but enough for it to be noticeable… at least by her.
Gabriel was a good man… once. Proud, strong, intelligent.
Good with Fareeha.
She could have, easilly, seen how it could be to care for him. Be in a relationship like that.
But she could see it… even then. Gabriel was a man with a very deep, chilling ruthlessness to him. A seething rage deep in the pit of his soul that, if it was ever released… would consume him and all those around him.
So she stayed away. Stayed as his friend.
He flirted with her, made his advances. But soon enough, he got the message.
And despite that, he never once treated Fareeha any differently.
Jack was the day to Gabriel's night. Always ready with an easy smile, ready to take the world on his shoulders and all of them too if they needed it.
But whereas Gabriel could have been a good father, and a good husband. Jack was already married to his work. Already a man pulled in too many directions at once and too willing to let himself be pulled in even more.
And so, like Gabriel, she stayed away. Loved him as a friend and let it go no further.
She didn't tell them. Didn't tell any of them she survived her accident. The only person who knew was Angela, and Fareeha of course. She could never hurt her daughter like that.
But she made them both promise to not say anything. To keep it a secret.
And she would not see those men again. Never again. The beings that pulled themselves free of the ruins of the Swiss headquarters were not the friends she remembered… or loved.
Jack was a man on a mission. One who seemingly wanted to die.
Gabriel… Gabriel was… something monstrous.
When Winston called them all back, called on Fareeha personally… she followed.
It was there… she found him.
"Ana!" He gasped, staring at her though he was seeing a ghost.
She supposed it was fitting.
It was her new moniker after all…
"How can this be!? I thought you were dead!"
He looked down at her, his voice a breathy whisper, looking as though he was ready to burst into tears.
It was the first time she'd ever seen that look on his face.
It filled her with shame. Made her gut churn with regret at her selfishness, at the hurt she'd caused.
She could not even meet his eyes.
"I'm sorry Reinhardt... " She said to him. And it just felt so inadequate. "A-After everything that happened… I needed time."
He said nothing. He didn't even seem to move.
Seven feet of pure muscle stood in the common room like a living statue. Just… looking at her.
She found her courage. Looking at him with a nervous, fragile smile bracing herself for his anger even as she tried to break the ice.
"Reinhardt, I must say-" She began. "- you're looking quite well. This life must agree with you."
Her words seemed to snap him out of his stupor. Blinking stupidly at her for a moment before his smile threatened to split his face in two, even as it lit up the room.
"And you, are looking as lovely as ever."
He reached down, taking her hand in a surprisingly gentle grip before lifting it up, even as he bent at the waist to kiss the back of her knuckles.
And after that, there was not one question. Not one hurtful word or accusatory implication. He led her by the arm and simply began to show her around base, introducing her to all the young people. The new faces of Overwatch she did not recognize.
Children…
Even her Fareeha.
Just children.
Were they doomed? Like Jack? Gabriel? Herself?
Was this another mistake waiting to happen?
She didn't want it to be true.
She wanted to tell them all to leave. To go home and not repeat their mistakes. Wanted to to to Winston, chastise him for his naieve, idealistic stupidity.
But she didn't. She didn't because she was young once as well… and knew she wouldn't have listened either.
"We will have to protect them you know. Teach these young kids a thing or two."
The words were ripped right out of her mouth. Made her look to her walking partner, finding Reinhardt smiling down at her.
She smiled back.
"I couldn't have said it better."
When they are sent to a mission, she notices the difference immediately.
Jack is not their 'tactician.' He is not the one the kids count on to have a plan, or to improvise. For that, they have Winston.
Reinhardt is not the one they count on to move headlong into the thick of the fighting. They have the Song girl.
Gabriel is not the one they count on to sneak in and pick off priority targets. They have their Shimada assassin for that.
Hell, most of them time, the kids don't even call on her for the 'impossible shots' For that, they have the other Shimada, the one with a bow.
Even Fareeha has gotten used to the dynamic with them.
The kids can take care of themselves.
The ones who count on her are what's left of the old crew.
Torbjorn, Angela, Reinhardt.
And when the enemy spots her, goes after her, these are who she relies on to save her in turn.
And he always does. Making himself the biggest target, shield at the ready, pushing himself into fights that would kill men a third of his age.
And always at the end, when he can remove his helmet, he has a smile ready for them.
She is not silly enough with young fancies to think that his smile is 'just' for her.
But it makes her smile as well.
And at her age, that gets a little harder every day.
She is not silly enough either to dismiss the fact that she is growing to care for him. Yes, even at her age. She's old. Not dead.
And she has to wonder why.
What makes him so different. What makes him something the others weren't?
The answer is simple.
He's the only one she's ever relied on who has never let her down…
The one with a big enough heart to accept all of her imperfections, all of her flaws and never expect more than she can give.
And as such, its with a little impulsiveness that, as they're waiting for the transport to arrive, and his helmet is off, she steps closer to where he is sitting, bringing his attention to her.
"Reinhardt- Promise me something will you?"
"Anything my dear." He says, and smiles that smile of his. The one that lights up a room and makes her smile in turn.
"Never change." She demanded.
Before he could answer, she leans down, grabs his chin and plants one on him.
He doesn't return the kiss, he's too surprised. But when she pulls away he's smiling in a way that makes him seem years younger.
Its almost adorable really.
She giggles.
She hasn't done that in years.
(X)(X)(X)
What can I say. I ship these two
...
...
...
I'm not sorry!
Anyway, if anyone's got any ideas feel free to throw em out there. So far we have one from Mercy and how she copes with her stressful work and Junkrat's peg leg getting caught in his own trap xD
The first; was her husband.
The only thing her first husband ever gave her that was worth something… was Fareeha.
Outside of that, the man was a sniveling weasel. A fool who thought he could control her. Raise his hand to her.
He tried it. Once.
After that the relationship was over. And he no longer had a hand to raise.
When Fareeha was born, she almost called him. Forgave him.
Because her daughter was truly the most important, precious thing in her life from the moment she opened her eyes and let out her first cries.
She raised her with all the love and care she could breathe into every moment. And no matter how hard it got, No matter how much her account shrank with her unable to take more bounty contracts, she would never ever do anything different.
When the crisis came, when armies of machines were burning cities, and killing people by the millions, someone remembered her name. Showed up at her front door with a paycheck large enough for ten lifetimes.
Her one condition, was Fareeha.
Her daughter needed to come with her, be kept safe along with the highest officials.
They allowed it.
And she picked up her rifle again.
That was where she met the second… and the third.
She was older than both of them. Not by much, but enough for it to be noticeable… at least by her.
Gabriel was a good man… once. Proud, strong, intelligent.
Good with Fareeha.
She could have, easilly, seen how it could be to care for him. Be in a relationship like that.
But she could see it… even then. Gabriel was a man with a very deep, chilling ruthlessness to him. A seething rage deep in the pit of his soul that, if it was ever released… would consume him and all those around him.
So she stayed away. Stayed as his friend.
He flirted with her, made his advances. But soon enough, he got the message.
And despite that, he never once treated Fareeha any differently.
Jack was the day to Gabriel's night. Always ready with an easy smile, ready to take the world on his shoulders and all of them too if they needed it.
But whereas Gabriel could have been a good father, and a good husband. Jack was already married to his work. Already a man pulled in too many directions at once and too willing to let himself be pulled in even more.
And so, like Gabriel, she stayed away. Loved him as a friend and let it go no further.
She didn't tell them. Didn't tell any of them she survived her accident. The only person who knew was Angela, and Fareeha of course. She could never hurt her daughter like that.
But she made them both promise to not say anything. To keep it a secret.
And she would not see those men again. Never again. The beings that pulled themselves free of the ruins of the Swiss headquarters were not the friends she remembered… or loved.
Jack was a man on a mission. One who seemingly wanted to die.
Gabriel… Gabriel was… something monstrous.
When Winston called them all back, called on Fareeha personally… she followed.
It was there… she found him.
"Ana!" He gasped, staring at her though he was seeing a ghost.
She supposed it was fitting.
It was her new moniker after all…
"How can this be!? I thought you were dead!"
He looked down at her, his voice a breathy whisper, looking as though he was ready to burst into tears.
It was the first time she'd ever seen that look on his face.
It filled her with shame. Made her gut churn with regret at her selfishness, at the hurt she'd caused.
She could not even meet his eyes.
"I'm sorry Reinhardt... " She said to him. And it just felt so inadequate. "A-After everything that happened… I needed time."
He said nothing. He didn't even seem to move.
Seven feet of pure muscle stood in the common room like a living statue. Just… looking at her.
She found her courage. Looking at him with a nervous, fragile smile bracing herself for his anger even as she tried to break the ice.
"Reinhardt, I must say-" She began. "- you're looking quite well. This life must agree with you."
Her words seemed to snap him out of his stupor. Blinking stupidly at her for a moment before his smile threatened to split his face in two, even as it lit up the room.
"And you, are looking as lovely as ever."
He reached down, taking her hand in a surprisingly gentle grip before lifting it up, even as he bent at the waist to kiss the back of her knuckles.
And after that, there was not one question. Not one hurtful word or accusatory implication. He led her by the arm and simply began to show her around base, introducing her to all the young people. The new faces of Overwatch she did not recognize.
Children…
Even her Fareeha.
Just children.
Were they doomed? Like Jack? Gabriel? Herself?
Was this another mistake waiting to happen?
She didn't want it to be true.
She wanted to tell them all to leave. To go home and not repeat their mistakes. Wanted to to to Winston, chastise him for his naieve, idealistic stupidity.
But she didn't. She didn't because she was young once as well… and knew she wouldn't have listened either.
"We will have to protect them you know. Teach these young kids a thing or two."
The words were ripped right out of her mouth. Made her look to her walking partner, finding Reinhardt smiling down at her.
She smiled back.
"I couldn't have said it better."
When they are sent to a mission, she notices the difference immediately.
Jack is not their 'tactician.' He is not the one the kids count on to have a plan, or to improvise. For that, they have Winston.
Reinhardt is not the one they count on to move headlong into the thick of the fighting. They have the Song girl.
Gabriel is not the one they count on to sneak in and pick off priority targets. They have their Shimada assassin for that.
Hell, most of them time, the kids don't even call on her for the 'impossible shots' For that, they have the other Shimada, the one with a bow.
Even Fareeha has gotten used to the dynamic with them.
The kids can take care of themselves.
The ones who count on her are what's left of the old crew.
Torbjorn, Angela, Reinhardt.
And when the enemy spots her, goes after her, these are who she relies on to save her in turn.
And he always does. Making himself the biggest target, shield at the ready, pushing himself into fights that would kill men a third of his age.
And always at the end, when he can remove his helmet, he has a smile ready for them.
She is not silly enough with young fancies to think that his smile is 'just' for her.
But it makes her smile as well.
And at her age, that gets a little harder every day.
She is not silly enough either to dismiss the fact that she is growing to care for him. Yes, even at her age. She's old. Not dead.
And she has to wonder why.
What makes him so different. What makes him something the others weren't?
The answer is simple.
He's the only one she's ever relied on who has never let her down…
The one with a big enough heart to accept all of her imperfections, all of her flaws and never expect more than she can give.
And as such, its with a little impulsiveness that, as they're waiting for the transport to arrive, and his helmet is off, she steps closer to where he is sitting, bringing his attention to her.
"Reinhardt- Promise me something will you?"
"Anything my dear." He says, and smiles that smile of his. The one that lights up a room and makes her smile in turn.
"Never change." She demanded.
Before he could answer, she leans down, grabs his chin and plants one on him.
He doesn't return the kiss, he's too surprised. But when she pulls away he's smiling in a way that makes him seem years younger.
Its almost adorable really.
She giggles.
She hasn't done that in years.
(X)(X)(X)
What can I say. I ship these two
...
...
...
I'm not sorry!
Anyway, if anyone's got any ideas feel free to throw em out there. So far we have one from Mercy and how she copes with her stressful work and Junkrat's peg leg getting caught in his own trap xD
- Location
- A place
Reaper feels kind of weird to me, probably because I'm contextualizing with the implied Reaper/Mercy backstory implied here.
Dunno. There's so much about the Overwatch world that I like, but there's a lot of info that Blizzard hasn't given us, or requires us to suss out from things like in-game dialogue and knowing the lore of the characters in that context.
Dunno. There's so much about the Overwatch world that I like, but there's a lot of info that Blizzard hasn't given us, or requires us to suss out from things like in-game dialogue and knowing the lore of the characters in that context.
LD1449
To the last; Kill them all
- Location
- The other side of the labyrinth.
There's very little to support that theory actually. Its just conjecture and leaps of logic atm :/
Improvements
LD1449
To the last; Kill them all
- Location
- The other side of the labyrinth.
Improvements:
"Right- so what do we need big guy?"
Winston blinked, looking up from his paperwork. "Huh?"
Lena was standing across his desk, hands on her hips, the chronal accelerator+ harness hanging over distinctly civilian clothes.
She rolled her eyes. "Winston, love. You've recalled Overwatch. Overwatch is more than just this room. So what do we need? Gotta clean this place out love. So what takes priority? Even Emily volunteered to help!"
"Actually, she said we were going to have a nice lunch." The red-head called from the doorway, clearly annoyed. "I have been tricked and befuddled to be here."
Winston, for his part looked a little startled, realizing that he hadn't actually thought of that before his hasty recall signal.
"That's alright Lena." He said. "The place is rather dusty, but I'm sure you or I don't have to clean it entirely ourselves. As more people show up, we'll clean it out bit by bit as needed. Or they'll clean it out as they find their rooms and spaces."
"You sure love? Wouldn't ya rather avoid the headache and just do it all now?"
He really didn't see what the big deal was.
"Don't worry about it Lena. What's the worst that can happen?"
(Three months later)
"Ahh, it's good to be back."
Torbjörn Lindholm stepped onto the grounds of Watchpoint Gibraltar with a smile beneath his considerable beard.
He hadn't been around for the time of the disbanding the first time. He'd been retired for about a year before. But it hadn't meant he didn't miss the place. Overwatch had been his family really, it was sad that the only one he still spoke to frequently was Reinhardt…
On account of everyone but Zeigler being dead and all. That… kind of put a damper on things.
If only he was here. Him or Rein. Maybe things could have ended differently. Maybe everything could have gone down better. Not perfect but better.
Damn the government and their 'mandatory retirment' laws.
Pfeh!
He was as fit as a strappin' young lad and a better engineer than everyone. Any government stooge who thought different could take a rocket powered hammer to the face as far as he was concerned.
Still, Winston and Lena weren't around, off fetchin something at a museum or other. He didn't catch the specifics past the noise. Sounded like a party or something. So he'd just show himself in. He knew where his old room was.
And he'd put a code and lock on it that would take a rocket to get through. No way was he lettin his things get 'commandeered' by Government idiots that wouldn't have the first clue as to what goes where.
It was goin to be dusty as all hell after twenty years, but he'd manage.
As he made his way through the base, he immediately began to bemoan his lack of memory.
Not because he was lost or anything, oh no.
He just forgot how many bloody stairs this place had.
No. His stature did not agree with stairs.
But endure the stairs he did, feet marching resolutely towards his room.
Finally, as he rounded the last corner, his ears were greeted by a massive crash of metal on metal.
He blinked, focusing for a moment before his mouth opened in quiet, irreprehensible horror.
He would have screamed, but his vocal chords were similarly frozen in this, disbelief laden paralysis, allowing only the quietest squeaks to escape.
Everything, all of his beautiful machinery, his tools, his whole workshop!
All of it was laying across the hallway in massive garbage bags in pieces.
EVERYWHERE!!!
What monster did this!? What kind of irresponsible, imbecilic, miserable basta-
"Phew. So glad that's over with."
It was a girl. Rail thin with mousey brown hair, couldn't even be old enough to drink, with pink marks on her cheeks.
Torbjorn wasn't sure what the hell she was doing here, or why she had chosen to destroy his goddamn workshop. But by joe he was going to get answe-
"Now I've got room to unpack all my games!" She said, delighted with herself before turning around and shutting the door, not even noticing him.
Torbjorn stood in that hallway. Quiet as death, his face a blank mask of emptiness…
…
Without a single word, he turned and walked away.
(The following day)
D.va walked through the halls of the Overwatch base, ready to go through some maitenance and basic drills on her mech.
So far the only other person she'd seen about here was Winston and Lena. Both were nice enough but she hoped things would pick up soon. Things were getting boring.
She turned on the lights to the hangar, only two helicopters were there to give her mech company. All rusted and squeaky. Overwatch really had seen better days.
Sipping the last of her shake she tossed the cup in the trash, turned towards where she knew her mech to be.
And let out the most ungodly screech of horror of her young eighteen years on earth.
The answer was a hearty chuckle from an Ikea midget with a socket wrench, surrounded by the pieces… all of the pieces.
"Heh, heh. I think I've made improvements… to your face." He laughed.
(X)(X)(X)
This was posted yesterday on SB but for some reason, for me, SV kept telling me "Connection timed out" so I couldn't post it here. Sorry for the delay
Anyway, this "Improvements" chapter will probably be the first of a few detailing how D.va and Torb go kicking eachothers ass/one upping eachother, and how other Overwatch characters step on eachothers toes.
Also, there's gonna be another short tonight, SV will get it first. Tis only fair
Scify
It always starts with a lighthouse.
Unless this is a British idiom I'm unaware of... This word. I do not think it means what you think it means.
Cute intro to their competitive relationship, though.
Curse
LD1449
To the last; Kill them all
- Location
- The other side of the labyrinth.
Curse:
This, is his curse.
He want's to kill them. Make them pay. Make them suffer.
Everything that's happened, everything that's gone wrong. This curse that is his life.
He wants them to pay.
That's what he says. That's what others believe.
The truth…
The truth isn't nearly so petty.
They… Overwatch deserve this. Him.
The lies, the manipulation. All the things they claimed to stand for while letting him do the dirty work. Standing like heroes while he was hauling their garbage.
They deserve their retribution.
But he. He deserves an end.
And Overwatch is the only one that can give that to him anymore.
He's been shot, burnt, stabbed. Wounds that would have killed a man a dozen times over he just shrugs off.
This… is his curse.
They're it.
They're the only ones that could dare hope to.
So he hunts them. A pale shadow of what he was, wandering from battle to battle, searching, hoping that they one of them, can do what no one else can.
But he's disappointed.
Again, and again. The most they do against him is survive. They're no more capable than anyone else anymore.
So he kills them.
The weakest first. The one's he knows are little more than just normal soldiers, he culls them. Leaves witnesses to spread the word of what hunts them.
The smarter ones would find a way to stop him if they could.
They don't.
They can't.
Not for the first year, or five after that… ten… twenty pass.
They can't.
Even when they reform, when the Monkey that wants to be a human drags them all out of their corners of obscurity…
They. Still. Can't. Kill him!
Not the half man Shimada or his broken brother with their strange spirit Dragons. Not the ingrate Mcree. Not the ghosts of war like him, Ana and Jack.
Not even Zeigler.
They can fight him. Hurt him. Drive him back.
But they can't finish it. They can't give him an end.
And… as time passes… a new fear begins to wrigle and writhe in his gut.
He can see it as the years go by, more and more of them, like a blur to this half dead life of his.
They're getting slower.
Their strength wanes.
Every now and again, they fight and he notices. He doesn't have to try so hard to overpower them. Doesn't have to push himself to keep up.
They're growing old…
He hasn't…
Ten years…
Twenty years…
Thirty… Forty…
How many has it been now?
How many more will it be?
How many more can he endure?
"This… is my curse"
This, is his curse.
He want's to kill them. Make them pay. Make them suffer.
Everything that's happened, everything that's gone wrong. This curse that is his life.
He wants them to pay.
That's what he says. That's what others believe.
The truth…
The truth isn't nearly so petty.
They… Overwatch deserve this. Him.
The lies, the manipulation. All the things they claimed to stand for while letting him do the dirty work. Standing like heroes while he was hauling their garbage.
They deserve their retribution.
But he. He deserves an end.
And Overwatch is the only one that can give that to him anymore.
He's been shot, burnt, stabbed. Wounds that would have killed a man a dozen times over he just shrugs off.
This… is his curse.
They're it.
They're the only ones that could dare hope to.
So he hunts them. A pale shadow of what he was, wandering from battle to battle, searching, hoping that they one of them, can do what no one else can.
But he's disappointed.
Again, and again. The most they do against him is survive. They're no more capable than anyone else anymore.
So he kills them.
The weakest first. The one's he knows are little more than just normal soldiers, he culls them. Leaves witnesses to spread the word of what hunts them.
The smarter ones would find a way to stop him if they could.
They don't.
They can't.
Not for the first year, or five after that… ten… twenty pass.
They can't.
Even when they reform, when the Monkey that wants to be a human drags them all out of their corners of obscurity…
They. Still. Can't. Kill him!
Not the half man Shimada or his broken brother with their strange spirit Dragons. Not the ingrate Mcree. Not the ghosts of war like him, Ana and Jack.
Not even Zeigler.
They can fight him. Hurt him. Drive him back.
But they can't finish it. They can't give him an end.
And… as time passes… a new fear begins to wrigle and writhe in his gut.
He can see it as the years go by, more and more of them, like a blur to this half dead life of his.
They're getting slower.
Their strength wanes.
Every now and again, they fight and he notices. He doesn't have to try so hard to overpower them. Doesn't have to push himself to keep up.
They're growing old…
He hasn't…
Ten years…
Twenty years…
Thirty… Forty…
How many has it been now?
How many more will it be?
How many more can he endure?
"This… is my curse"