p o i n t -- impress. overwatch

[Deleted]

These kids are killing him.

Figuratively, of course, eleven trainees - now twelve, thirteen counting young Pharah Amari - emotionally draining and physically graying. And he smiled to himself, in between Ana throwing knives into a Widowmaker shaped dummy, Hanzo giving Jessie a black eye and Mercy knitting a training center rug. Whistling, counting his blessings -- all eleven of them. Long drives between the headquarters and his mother's mountain home, Alejandra tearing every electronic apart her isolated room, he blinked. Living room couch torn to pieces, "what?"

"The clock stopped working-" he zoned out during the explanation. 

"Hacked the microwave at all?"
"Definitely."

Interesting, he didn't trust that, carrying the box of trackers from his black issued car to the back room of his mother's mountain house. Didn't trust it enough for instant noodles at least, whistling the radio tune from his office and strumming index fingers on the box in hand. "So what's in the box," 

"Your concern, apparently?" A smile. 

Sombra following behind him like a house cat, "hilarious," and he understood - it gets lonely up here. Goats baaing from the windows, people a longass walk away besides one Hilde Reinhardt, he's always been a mother's boy. "It's the stuff," the back guest bedroom greeting him in the form of mothballs and old curtains, "you know, the big secret trackers for the big secret event-" eyebrow arched, he didn't expect to keep secrets in this mansion anyways. Every door open, between himself, a hacker and a mother -- "it's coming up? So soon?" Eager, edging while Reinhardt slipped the box under his bed. 

"Really big shoes."

"Ugh,"

"Shoebox for big shoes," which, in all honesty, fit for him. 

"Oh, please-"

"I insist!" 

Face relaxed, she was smarter than him and he knew that, "stop hacking my phone, Sombra," he poured his pockets into side desk, pens, badge, i.d., not wallet -- sneaky hands around here. "Mr. Reinhardt-"

"Reinhardt,"

"You wrote it in your diary."

"Maybe so," shit, did he? He doesn't even have a diary, odds are he wrote it somewhere nondigitally -- electronics are too foreign to him, growing up in district two. Too flashy, visits to the capitol a headache, "one secret?" 

"It's the big day, right? It's actually happening?"

"Morning comes faster if you actually sleep, y'know?"

And she slept on the floor beside his bed, Reinhardt still in the work day's suit -- he'll change tomorrow. One more day, one more grey hair. 

---

"Are we there yet?"

"No ma'am."

He programmed the alarms himself, wide spread alerts to his eleven- twelve trainees, all from his phone -- amazing. Organized group chats, lord he loved it, driving the peacekeeper issued vehicle with himself, all twelve trackers and Alejandra De La Fuente in the back seat, staring out the window, communicator in hand - she hasn't stopped staring at it. Interesting. God he was nervous, the eleven of them being in charge of themselves without him around -- split up in different issued cars. God, they'll kill each other. Praying some good sense split up Ana and Ameli- Widow, nicknames, nicknames he was getting better. "This'll be interesting," a low groan - nobody should die. 

Just nice, relaxing, physical competition. 

six a.m. --

good morning! make sure to eat well, today's a long one; transportation outside. no smoking. -- W.R.

Reinhardt parked, nerves in his stomach, excitement in his veins, gray in his beard -- "you first, Miss Sombra." Six a.m., sharp, they must be exhausted; that's exciting, get them in the routine. He slammed the car door behind him, Sombra running out before him while he grabbed the tracker box from the back seat, brown salt n pepper hair slick back, sweat. "Good morning!" Dropping the box into the gravel, his eleven- twelve bunched up beside the forest gate. "It smells great today," a smile that took over his whole body, excitement -- finally a test to see what they could do. 

"I'd like to welcome, Miss Alejandra De La Fuente, our final overwatch trainee." He watched the scariest ones, reading reactions -- Widow, Satya, Hanzo, perfect. Sombra'll find a way to survive, she always has. "And, a test." His heart beat practically racing crescendo, "exciting, correct?" 

"Timed, two hours," he knelt to the ground, digging through the box and grabbing fist fulls of watches, requested and shipped from some capitolite asshole who charged way too much, "then why'd we wake up so damn early?" McCree, cigarette in his mouth, "the sunrise is beautiful today!" Reinhardt placing trackers in hands -- Widow, Mei, Genji, Lena, Mercy -- "god help him, Millford." Second trip, "it's exciting!" Satya, Zoe, Davina, Ana, McCree, Sombra, "everybody got one? Great." 

Deep breaths, "we're playing flags," toothy, hearty grin, his one of the only ones- it's fine, they're just tired. "Each of you have a tracker, your goal? Protect it, be one of the last ones standing by eight a.m., but oh ho ho-" if only, "in teams!" Team building, working together, working against each other, maybe they'll actually talk to each other. "Winner gets a reward, losers get punished -- we'll discuss afterwards!"

"Satya, Oxford, Mercy," three in a row, Widow's name on the tip of his tongue, "Hanzo." Perfect, "team leaders, in that order -- each of you pick one person to join your team, that person chooses your third." That's all, that's all right? "Oh, and when some one alerts your tracker-" locking eye contact between the Shimada brothers, "I'll pick your ass back from the forest, easy enough?"

He waited for a verbal agreement. 

"Good!" Taking a second to count his blessings, all twelve of them.

"Miss Symmetra, you start."

capture the flag!

divide yourselves into 4 teams of 3;
symmetra picking first, tracer second, etc.
symmetra's pick will choose the last person for her team
then tracer's, mercy's and hanzo's last
try to keep errthing as in character as possible
after teams we will enter the forest


(rolled for leaders here)

[sbeeg]

The day had barely started and it was already dragging. First, the little devices beeping and screeching demanding they start the day. Satya had already been up, breathing in the mountain air but a few other trainees managed to sleep through their alarms, the blasted alarm ringing over and over again until someone finally shook them awake.

She was dressed in the plain clothes they'd been issued, and ate the simple breakfast provided of them. It tasted better than anything from the Detention Center, that's for sure.

Her nerves hit when they stepped outside. A few cars were lined up outside. Satya had never been inside of a car until this Overwatch program plucked her out of prison. She'd only seen the cars come and go near the justice building. Sometimes, if she sat on the roof of her family's small house she could see the headlights weaving back and forth at night. Big machines that could hold a group of people, but didn't need tracks like the train did. They were interesting pieces of technology and she would have liked to study them. Maybe, now she would have a chance.

The young woman swung open the back door and slid into the back seat. She shoved herself against a window, crossed her arms, and closed her eyes determined to limit any small talk that she risked by looking around. All these trainees were so frisky, just giving them eye contact was enough to trigger a pick up line.

Can't they get a hobby?

She felt the bumpy road as the cars carried them away from base and into another part of District Two. She peeked out the window, watching the tall trees separated by a thick fence file past.

They came to a stop and all filed out of the black government issued cars. Reinhardt stood with his little boyish face off to one side with a young girl with him. Satya studied her.

"Good morning! It smells great today." It smelled like trees, and did not need to be commented on. "I'd like to welcome, Miss Alejandra De La Fuente, our final overwatch trainee."

Satya's nose wrinkled in disgust. Another trainee. Another loud voice and big personality to keep her awake all night. Great.

They would be playing a game today as training. Working in teams to keep their trackers deep in the forest. Satya wavered between curiosity and thinking the game was a big past of time until she was announced as a leader. Then her curiosity got the best of her.

Satya stepped forward, pressing a finger to her lips and examining her fellow trainees. She wasn't picking the new girl- she didn't know a thing about Miss De La Fuente, much less if she could trust her. She glanced at the other leaders- short tempered and too soft.

She looked down the row again and made her choice.

"Genji."

[я𝑜𝓈𝑒]

She's been a light sleeper for as long as she can remember. In her days as a thief she was always on the run, always hiding from the authorities curled up in some abandoned building. There was never time for sleep — but even when she did have time locked away in her cell, she stayed awake staring at the wall instead of resting.

Today she isn't awakened by heavy Peacekeeper footsteps or the scuttle of rats, but rather a beeping noise from her communication device on her wrist. Tracer opens her eyes and tries to rub away her drowsiness as she squints at the blue screen. A message shows in black text from Reinhardt, her instructor.

good morning! make sure to eat well, today's a long one; transportation outside. no smoking. -- W.R.

Today's a long one, huh? she thinks with a yawn. How great. Although slightly cranky from sleep, she suddenly remembers that Amelie — or, Widowmaker, as she likes to be called — will be at training, too. Her heart flutters in her chest at the thought of the girl, how her hair is so perfect and bubblegum pink with just the right amount of volume, how her porcelain skin seems so supple.

Blush rushes into Tracer's cheeks as she pries herself from her bed and tries to shake Widowmaker from her mind. As she dresses herself in her training clothes and adjusts her hair, she wonders if Widowmaker would think that she looks pretty. In her gut, Tracer knows that her little crush on Widowmaker shouldn't exist. She's a cold girl, nothing like Tracer, nothing like what she was raised to be. She wrote once in a bonding exercise that she enjoyed murder. Tracer likes to brush it off; surely, Widowmaker was joking or just trying to get a rise out of Reinhardt.

. . .

"Good morning!" Reinhardt chirps, greeting the group of trainees. Tracer ponders how someone can be so upbeat in the morning; not even she is, at least not without a cup of coffee first. He introduces someone new to the group — a dark-haired girl named Alejandra — and explains the training exercise today. It will be nothing like writing what you enjoy on a note card. Instead, it's capture the flag, a game Tracer used to play with her band of thieves back home in Eight. Her face lights up as soon as Reinhardt reveals the exercise — This ought to be good.

"Satya, Oxford, Mercy, Hanzo. Team leaders, in that order -- each of you pick one person to join your team, that person chooses your third."

"It's Oxton, actually," she corrects Reinhardt politely with a small smile. "But just call me Tracer, y'know?" Tracer has never been fond of her given name; ever since she received her street name, it's what she has preferred to go by. She isn't on the streets anymore as a bandit, but rather a criminal in rehabilitation — nevertheless, nothing will change who she is. Tracer, not Lena Oxton.

Symmetra chooses Genji, and as soon as she finishes speaking his name, Tracer's gaze sweeps the room for a potential teammate. Davina, Satya, Ana, Zoe, Sombra, McCree — Widowmaker. She stands there among the others, beautiful as ever despite it being so early in the morning. If Tracer didn't have anyone to impress, she would not have hidden the dark circles under her eyes or worked out the kinks in her hair.

Widowmaker — a capable warrior, intelligent, strategic, possibly ruthless. Tracer tries not to focus on the fact that she's pretty or that butterflies pound at her stomach when she's near. She might be toxic, lethal as poison, but Tracer supposes that even if she is, it could give her team an edge.

"A team leader, huh?" she says, placing her hands confidently on her hips. She was born to lead — she was the leader of her gang back home, after all. "Alright then. I pick . . . Widowmaker."

[umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]]

Scissors and lemon juice, hair in the sink.

("Reyna?"
"A moment, Mom!")

Part of her knew Reyna had never died, even all this time later, but she had done plenty in her recent years to see it through, especially after she was drafted. Reyna was known for the pixie blonde hair— hmph.

"It looks so good! Let me fix the back."

Her hair was a warmth, a memory of a life she would never again live, and they had their rules and regulations, codes that could not be broken, but what of moral code?

Reyna, now Mercy, who was supposed to be different, but was not, looked in the mirror, her dark roots noticeable even in the predawn light, the start of curls near the ends. It was growing out.

She held the scissors in her hands. Damn, she thought, She can't fix the back for me, can she? Certainly, Mercy could have tried to make it to her. She had before, carrying a dress she had knitted for her mother and smiling against the butterflies in her stomach that warned her not to. Not to worry, though: they found her before she even got within five blocks of her old house.

"Mercy, you can't—"
"I can't see them. I'm sorry; I know. I just got..."

Silence. Yeah, there had been plenty of that.

"I need to hear you say it."

Deep breath in. Tell them the truth. Tell them you're too weak to defy them, that you can see the reasons behind their logic and tell them that even though it kills you, you won't try to do this again, she thought.

"It won't happen again."

She was out of lemons. Of course she was.

She wiped a stray tear off using the over sized burgundy sweater she wore. Not one of hers. Comfortable though. She liked the tiny little black cherries on it. Plus, matched with one of her signature black pleated skirts, it was a look.

She clipped her bangs back with a barrette.

"Fine then," she said to her reflection.

She made herself some cocoa, retired to the surface of the built-in vanity of her appointed apartment. Nothing like the one her father had built, but the table was porcelain and sturdy enough to support her full weight. Lately, she actually preferred it to the lumpy purple couch in her sitting area. She pulled her knees to her chest, staring at her reflection.

Maybe she was becoming Mercy, after all.

Knock on the door— they probably hoped they had woken her.

They didn't give her time to answer before using their key to let themselves in.

"Didn't you get the note?" she heard.
"Yes, I did. Must have lost track of time."
"Duty calls."
"Of course," she replied, rinsing her mug out and sitting it on a towel with her other dishes.

Transit with tired people made her feel tired as well. They really should have gone to bed earlier. A good amount of rest was necessary for a healthy growth.

Doe eyes on their eyes, which were practically swollen shut from fatigue. She leaned back. "Jesus, McCree." Hand on his face, tilting him toward the light. Black eye.

"Don't tell me. I don't want to scold anyone before daylight breaks." After rummaging around in her tote bag, she pulled out a fair-sized white case made of hard plastic. With a click, the front tab opened, and she pulled out a tube of ointment.

"Not much to be done. Bruises mean healing, anyway. This'll numb it a bit, though, take away the soreness for a couple of hours." Before he could object or blow smoke in her face, she squirted some onto a cotton swab and applied it to the blackest part, where the side of his nose stopped being the side of his nose but hadn't quite started to be his eye yet.

"Keep your fists up next time." She patted him on the lap, then returned to her seat. Helping people. That was a Reyna thing, wasn't it? But, hell, it was the reason Mercy had been the first recruit on the entire team. And lord knew they wouldn't let her forget it. The name in itself— well, actually, she kind of liked the name, but still. It said everything a person could care to know about who she was, who she used to be, and who she could ever hope to be, didn't it?

If it wasn't the stupidest idea she ever had, she might have asked Jessie for a cigarette. Her eyes fell to the handcuff scars on her wrists. Second worst idea. Then they fell to the bars on the windows, and someone snored near the back of the bus.

Third worst idea.

"I'd like to welcome, Miss Alejandra De La Fuente, our final overwatch trainee." Be polite, Mercy. She smiled at the girl. Poor thing. Maybe she would offer to share her seat, since so many of the others were slow at making friends. They weren't bad people. The bad ones stayed in the detention center. These were good people: Friends.

Except maybe Widowmaker.

"And a test. Exciting, correct?" And predictible, she started to add. She didn't. That was a mean thought; maybe she was more tired than she realized. Reinhardt would've just squinted at her anyway. He was like the others in that way, tough to understand. But she liked him all the same.

"Timed. Two hours," he continued, before Jessie interrupted with a breath of smoke. Honestly, how disgusting. Why the hell had she ever wanted to kiss him, again? "Then why'd we wake up so damn early?" Oh, right, it was the accent, probably. Or the eyes. Still, he was a good friend.

Whatever.

"The sunrise is beautiful!" Reinhardt said. Most people flinched at the level of volume. "Inside voices," she called. He could lead all he wanted. There was no need for him to upset a bus full of sleepy teenagers.

"God help him, Millford." he replied, handing her a tracking devise. The windows were beginning to show her more green than gray. She liked the idea of nature today. A warm smile. Her scalp itched to remind her why she needed a break from the chemical smell of the faucet water in her apartment, the static that sounded in the back of her television no matter how much she adjusted the antenna, the fact that her television had an antenna.

"We're playing flags," Reinhardt called. Much more quiet this time. Mercy smirked with satisfaction.

"Each of you have a tracker. Your goal? Protect it, and be one of the last ones standing by eight a.m." Easy enough.

"But oh ho ho,"

She frowned. Nothing good could have possibly followed such a fake laugh.

"In teams! Winner gets a reward, losers get punished.—" He was so intense. Punishment probably meant no second helpings of the sandwiches they would probably bring the recruits later on, but if Mercy had learned anything about Reinhardt, it was that he had a flare for the dramatic, even though he tried very much so to hide it. Maybe she should have knitted him a sweater.

"Satya, Oxford, Mercy, Hanzo. Team leaders. In that order." Mercy shook her head, unsure if she had heard him correctly. Her, a team leader? When there were people like Widowmaker and D.va who weren't called. Okay, so, options. Logical explanations. Maybe the leaders were randomized. Maybe she had been doing really good in training.

Oh no.

Maybe she had been doing really bad in training.

"Each of you pick one person to join your team, that person chooses your third. Oh, and when some one alerts your tracker," his gaze passed between Hanzo and Genji, "I'll pick your ass back from the forest. Easy enough?" No answer from Mercy. She wasn't the flight risk in this situation. "Good!" he said, getting loud again.

Whatever. Some people just didn't listen.

Symmetra chose Genji. Good choice, she guessed. Seemed pretty good at what he did. Sweet boy, really. Mercy flashed him a quick smile.

It was when Tracer chose Widowmaker that Mercy couldn't stop herself from clutching her chest. Of all the people on this bus, she had chosen the one most likely to slit her throat. Once this thing started, Mercy made a promise to herself to make sure Tracer didn't have a fever.

All eyes on her, and she was asked to make a choice. Davina. She needs a friend. No, would that be patronizing? Perhaps the new girl? She seemed capable enough. But what if she wasn't? If her team lost, it would have just confirmed what everyone already expected: Mercy was a bad leader.

Deep inhale.

In her best mock southern outskirt accent, she said: "Why, I choose Jessie McCree, o' course." Dan Johnwayne couldn't have said it better himself.

She waved at Jessie for confirmation. He had trouble opening up; she had always known the wall around his heart hadn't been built in a day. Years of let downs and broken trust added brick by disappointed brick to his armor, and it might have taken just as long to take it back down.

But he was a good shot, and they trusted each other.

She turned back so that she was facing the front of the bus again. One of her stockings had fallen, and she pulled it back up past her knee. Deep breath in, deep breath out.

This was a game. It didn't matter that much, right?

She met eyes with Reinhardt, and that ever-present intensity had come to stay. Nothing like a good slap in the face when a person thought they were doing things the right way.

Another deep breath.

She looked back at Jessie.

"Try, please," she mouthed.

"For me."

[arx!!]

Everyone's alarms start blaring at six. It's rather annoying how long it takes everyone to roll over and turn them off. Satya is already awake as per the usual and it's a comfort really, knowing at least that at most I'm listening to nine alarms. I've already turned mine off—I was up for a morning run an hour earlier—and eaten my breakfast just like Reinhardt had instructed. And though I'll never admit to it, I feel giddy.

When I heard we'd be having a competition, I was certain it was some sort of joke. Reinhardt actually letting us punch each other in the faces, throw each other to the ground, and drive our opponents skulls into the dirt? Seems far-fetched coming from the guy who's always on about "team-building exercises." But this? This sounds way easier than holding hands and sharing my feels with a bunch of imbeciles.

I'm already standing at attention when Reinhardt steps out of the car, hands itching to feel the weight of a weapon—he'll give us weapons, right?

I growl as clouds of smoke appear next to me, puffs of pure fucking cancer coming far too close for comfort. If I remember correctly we were instructed not to smoke—I scowl, grumble and glare—but of course this fucking chimney probably doesn't even know how to read. Or listen. Or do much of anything.

I choke and gag on another puff of smoke—"If you don't want both of your eyes swollen shut, you'll put that thing out, cowboy."—and growl in his ear as I move past him, standing as far from him as possible.

As Reinhardt steps out his vehicle, car door slamming and big bright smile on his face, I glance over the rest of the trainees. I've gravitated towards none of them, decided that "friends" aren't really my thing despite all of Reinhardt's prodding. Though I'll admit there are a few who piss me off far less than other's. Widowmaker is a formidable opponent, Satya seems as disgusted with everyone as I am, and-- well, shit.

Everyone else is for the holding hands and the kumbaya. Or named Genji.

"Good morning!"

It will be when I get to beat the shit out of Genji or McCree. So let's hurry up with that, old man.

"I'd like to welcome, Miss Alejandra De La Fuente, our final overwatch trainee."

Another one? Is this a joke?


"The sunrise is beautiful!"

"Inside voices."

I should've just stayed in that prison cell, holy shit.

He hands out trackers and explains the rules, the competition setting fire to my blood and putting a smirk on my face. A test, he says. Something I've always been good at. Keeping my tracker intact? Being the last one standing? This is what I was born and raised for.

"--but oh ho ho, in teams!"

...of course.

"Good!"

Not really, pops.

But at least I've got a few options for a good team. Widowmaker is an obvious first choice, though I'm sure everyone-- "Genji." --figures. Can't wait to obliterate Satya's team first.

"It's Oxton, actually. But just call me Tracer, y'know?"

Part of me is hoping she's too concerned with names to be paying attention to the task at hand. Because as it stands, with the team leaders unavailable for the choosing and-- "Alright then. I pick . . . Widowmaker."

--and Widowmaker out of the selection pool.

Fuck me. I can't believe I actually have to consider picking the fucking cowboy. I hate Reinhardt, I hate this team building shit, I hate that he set this up, and I hate that I have to admit that McCree might actually be fucking useful in a fight. I'm just praying that Millford doesn't make me regret ever thinking about picking Jessie in the first place--

"Why, I choose Jessie McCree, o' course."

I don't think I've ever been more disgusted in my life. Is this really-- do I really have to pick from what's left?

"Respectfully, sir, I'd really just prefer working alone," I grumble at Reinhardt, my eyes forward and hands behind my back. A perfect fucking soldier in his team of misfits and outcasts. A perfect fit to be a Peacekeeper or some other special operative. And here he is, still forcing me to pair off and play nice with others.

What the hell is he looking for?

Not like anyone here will be much help to me anyway. Screw team building, why can't I just prove myself on my own? How am I supposed to prove I'm worthy when the rewards and consequences fall on everyone else's shoulders and not just my own? It doesn't make sense, none of this makes any sense at all. What the hell does he want from me?

"Fine," I resign.

"I pick Ana."

[Tom]

The alarm blares in his ear with a shrill that sends him into a whiny fit as he groans out loud.

Six am was too fucking early to get up.

He was going to kill Rein when he saw him. All he could do was turn off the alarm and ignore the message to the device that Genji rather hated. Moving slowly, he stretches as the morning air chills him. He almost dares to lay back into bed again, but Hanzo would kill him if he was late to whatever Rein had planned. Though, Hanzo would kill him for anything really, no matter the reason. A small chuckle leaves his throat as he gets dressed in the clothes they were supposed to wear.

A glance to the message again as Rein says no smoking. Genji gets an idea and heads out of his room as fast as he can. There's still time to do something as he knew where Rein was. He's got a jump in his step as he forgets about the tiredness that still lies underneath his skin. The door's locked when he gets there, but he doesn't care as he just picks the lock and whistles into the office.

Plopping into the chair that usually held Rein, Genji giggles to himself as how badass he is. The cigarette comes out of his pocket as he lights it with the lighter that he keeps on him. He puffs smoke across the desk with a deep inhale and exhale. A sigh of relief as the cigarette calms him from the annoyance that was waking up at too fucking early. He's about to try and rummage through Rein's stuff, but instead decides to put out his lighter on the desk. Kicking his feet up, he leans back into the chair as he speaks to himself in a mock Rein voice.

"Oh Genji, you're the best student I've ever had."

He speaks to himself in his own voice now.

"Why thank you, Rein."

The mock Rein voice comes from his throat again as he gets up again and slinks out of the room.

"You better get going, Genji before everyone misses you too much."

A chuckle echoes in the hallway as the rest of the morning slips away.

---

"Good Morning!"

Genji just groans without caring what anyone else thought. The smile on Rein's face doesn't falter and only seems to grow as time passes. It must be his kink to torture them all by making them wake up at six fucking am to do whatever it is they were going to do. He still couldn't remember what they were supposed to be doing. Only that is gonna be a long fucking day with everyone.

Maybe he'd find a way to enjoy it as sends a sly smile to Zoe.

"I'd like to welcome, Miss Alejandra De La Fuente, our final overwatch trainee."

Who?

Eyes catch sight of the new girl and Genji can already feel like she's gonna be major competition in whatever they were going to do. He tries to study her, but eventually quits because he shouldn't care. It wasn't like she was going to try and kill him in his sleep, though that'd certainly make his life more interesting than it already is. A secret killer sent to take out the younger Shimada brother.

Then he pauses for a second in his head.

Oh wait, Hanzo was that killer.

"And, a test."

The day couldn't get any better, could it?

As much as Genji loves proving that he's the greatest, tests were not something he would prefer to do. He ignores Rein, until he hands him a tracker that he was supposed to protect, according to Rein who was explaining the rules to them all. Eyes glance towards everyone as Genji knew he could take most of them on. Only a few that would prove to be hard to beat, but then Rein said the words that ended his thoughts.

"in teams!"

Fuck me.

It was not his lucky day. As much as Genji got along with others, working in teams was NOT what he did. Shimadas worked alone with no one else. They fought for honor and proved themselves capable of handling the situation on their own. He wasn't going to get stuck dragging his team through the mud on his own to keep them in the test. He could just fail by choice. It was always an option and it'd be great to see the look on Rein's face if he just gave his tracker to Hanzo.

"Satya, Oxford, Mercy, Hanzo."

The team leaders were picked. Genji can feel his hair standing on edge. His hand goes to his hair as he grumbles under his breath as he knew none of them would have picked him. He can remember some of their answers at the greeting thing. He ignores the rest of Rein's talk and is tempted to ignore the rest of the conversation altogether. Symmetra would pick first. Someone that she could work with that had order. Genji assumed that she'd pick someone who was more like her. Widowmaker was probably her choice.

Genji would have picked Widowmaker.

She was scary and could probably kick his ass and Hanzo's ass.

What he would give to see that happen.

"Genji."

His eyes go wide as he stares at Satya. Him of all people to be working with her. He looks behind him for a second like she had just called someone else, but her eyes were on him. He speaks up right away like there had been a mistake. First picked was not what he was expecting at all. Sure, he was probably the greatest fighter there besides Hanzo and Widowmaker, but why him? Of all the people, why him?

As he walks over to stand near Satya, he speaks.

"You sure you want me?"

There's a smile that pulls on his lips as he looks to her and then he speaks again.

"I'm flattered. I can show my appreciation later."

There's a wink and smirk, but he can already feel the moment Satya would roll her eyes at him.

She'd regret picking him, but now that he had a team. The thoughts were already pounding through his head. They needed a team with order that would please Miss Symmetra. He had to think of who would keep order. Other team leaders begin to call their picks.

Widowmaker. Not much of a surprise that Oxton picked her. Jessie. From what he could recall, they had a past or something. He didn't listen to Jessie all the time when he talked. You learn to tune him out at times, except when he talks about messing with people. Genji was definitely into that whole thing. Hanzo's turn and he says exactly what Genji expected him to.

"Respectfully, sir, I'd really just prefer working alone,"

Genji just smiles at his brother, even if they didn't exactly get along. They were still brothers. He'd kick Hanzo's ass any day, except for the day that they got arrested. That day no one kicked anyone's ass. A sigh escapes his lips as his brother picks Ana, who definitely wasn't a bad choice at all.

Now it was his turn to pick, even though he still had no idea who to pick. Eyes scan the crowd as he think who Satya would want. She'd probably want someone to keep him in check. Someone to keep him from going off on his own to try and beat the other teams on his own. Order. It's a word that he knew, but the most order Genji has ever had was when his father was alive. That felt like a century ago.

Eyes scan the rest of them as he thought between his options.

He wasn't going to pick the new girl as he didn't know anything about her, plus she deserved to be picked last. She was new. That's what happened to new people. Davina was too much most of the time from what he had seen of her. Too obnoxious with her new age tone. A shrug as he looks at Mei. That only left one person left and he definitely had been trying to avoid his eye contact for a second to make him nervous. If anyone were to keep him in line, it'd be Zoe. A smile upon his lips as he looks to Zoe with a wink.

"I'm gonna pick Zoe, c'mon dude."

Satya. Genji. Zoe.

This could work.

[Python]

A spider is most active at night. Nocturnal creatures swimming in shadows, ready to strike at any moment. That was a life worth living. She wanted to be on the move, preying on a target she would inevitably eliminate. Instead, she was in her second prison. Not so restricted and unforgiving as the previous one, but a setback nonetheless.

She wasn’t designed to work around this type of schedule.

Heart steady, the early alarm stirred her from a light sleep. A message flashed across the screen of her mobile device; vague instructions hinting toward something eventful. A training session, perhaps? If it was another team building activity, she would be disappointed. She didn’t care to know these people. They were weapons with emotional weaknesses – an abstract concept that was familiar and unwelcome. She would only care about how well they fared during an assignment. If they died, oh well. That was incompetence.

The message contained no details about attire or weaponry, which halted any hope for something exciting. It had to be another team building exercise; a waste of time unless it involved real combat. Outside, a line of cars awaited their escort. They all packed into the vehicles together, Widowmaker forcing herself into a window seat. This had to be a new form of torture invented by Reinhardt himself. Score one for him.

The destination was a forest, and suddenly there was hope for thrill after all.

She leaned against a tree, determined to stay far away from the other recruits. Out of sight, out of mind. Reinhardt proceeded to introduce their newest and final recruit. A familiar face stepped forward. I never forget faces, she thought smugly. He addressed her by a name she did not care about – she’s Sombra. The infamous hacker, but only to those who knew where to look. What a pleasant addition to the team. She would no doubt be useful to their operations

Not that she wanted to remain on their side, of course.

Her competitive edge began to glow. Today’s team building exercise was a game of capture the flag. Child’s play, but it was an opportunity to assess the competence of the faces she did not know. Who would rise, and who would fall? She watched the team leaders in mild amusement. They would either create an unstoppable force, or screw themselves over. The first girl, Satya, decided not to create the former. Widow didn’t want to be a part of that team anyway. If she had to pick one ideal teammate, it would be Hanzo. A competent fighter, and someone she could respect.

”A team leader, huh?” the next girl said. All she could recall about Tracer was that she was impressively agile. Not a terrible advantage to have.

”I pick….Widowmaker.”

She furrowed her brow. It was not the answer she was expecting. Actually, it wasn’t so surprising considering her own skill level. The personalities simply did not mix, and the idea didn’t please her. There were other faces she would rather have in her company. Even Ana – the second best sniper she knew – she could work with, despite their awkward history. It was entertaining to see her here, scarred after that one dirty shot. Had it been clean, she would be dead.

Now she realized it was her turn to select a teammate. Out of the remaining recruits, the choice seemed obvious.

”I want Sombra.”

[Deleted]

W A N T E D dead or alive -- 

Ooh boy, really? Didn't think much of myself to be worth a bounty. I've been doin' a lot of thinkin' recently, between workin' with deadlock and talon again and Reinhardt and- they're still lookin' for me. That can't be all too good. Been takin' my time off, relaxin' from all the gun buildin' and shootin' and really just enjoying, y'know? We aren't allowed all too far anyways, just a spittin' reach and far enough to stretch our legs, but I've been tryin' to hunt down deadlock. Bastards like those don't die, Lachie's out there somewhere probably- kid could survive a bombing. 

Reyes's is out there, so I gotta keep lookin'. 

But Reinhardt gets suspicious and I understand that, whole bunch of criminals but I'm just one boy out here trynna hunt down a pistol, no harm intended. Been keepin' myself up smoking on patios, stayin' up with Mercy and chit chattin' -- not much has changed since prison. 'Cept for the liquor and the smokin'. I'm open-minded, I reckon I can accept that change. I'm thinkin' I need to start talkin' to her more, as much a vigilante I can be she's still more rational. If gunpowder could win the west, deadlock'd have a bullet with my name on it; my cocky ass is still kickin'! Could've fermented my own piss by now, parts of me still miss those red sand dunes. Shootin' and drinkin', blood rushes and bullet wounds, only ever had two. 

Guess overwatch got me for a reason, huh? Prison fights and training dummies just don't react the same, no gun fittin' this hand quite like peacekeeper but she's buried too far out. They're practically killin' me in here, no bar fights, smokin' restrictions. Got a black eye for starin' a little too long at a certain Shimada, but what else is there to do around here? Baby Davina gets some capitol presents but I'm sittin' around here, watchin' tail and waitin' for Gabe to shoot me dead- I need a drink. 

"Aghhh, fuck," voice gruff, blue alarm ringin' in my face and I think I might just hate this thing-- pushing it off the cabinet, "not today." Shirtless and sweating, smell of dead cigarettes in my teeth, today. Pitfall in my stomach bitchin' about being bored 'round here, I ain't foreign to runnin' off three hours' sleep but doesn't mean I care for it much. Can't a boy just stay in bed, thinkin' bout his near death experiences? 

And I damn near sleep walk to the group, I don't know how we use to do it. Never sleepin', runnin' around causin' terror under gunshots-- Lacchie, Sombra, Huck and I. Somethin's tell me I shouldn't be the free one here, of the deadlock kids I don't think I deserved to. Ain't none of us dead yet, Sombra ain't dead- "Jesus, McCree,"

"Christ, Mercy-"

Soft fingers, Mercy's palm on my face and it's almost enough to let me forget, "don't tell me." Ain't even surprise her anymore given my fair share of talkin' bout Hanzo's ass, but it's a better topic to think of.  "I don't want to scold anyone before daylight breaks." And somethin' bout Mercy lights my day of enough, kinder soul than she lets on and that's sayin' somethin, grinnin' with the lock of her tote bag, "it ain't even high noon yet?" And I tune out some, somewhere between solitary confinement and thigh space, Mercy lecturin' about first aid and I reach for cigarettes in my back pocket. 

"Keep your fists up next time."

Pattin' my back and I keep on smilin, "put it on my tab, Millford."

---

"Aye, wake up sleepyhead!" 

"fuck-"

Shakin' my ass like vertigo, rubbin' my eye first, drool of my cheek second, Tracer shovin' me awake- ah shit I drooled on my flannel. "Uhh- I'm comin'," Lena still a little too fast for my likin' but oh well, leavin' with Mercy and my eyes trained on the ground. "Think he'd bring us some  mornin' coffee?" Laughing into the morning air, humidity stuck to my skin, trailin' behind- Hanzo looks nice today. That's only sixty three days in a row-

"If you don't want both of your eyes swollen shut, you'll put that thing out, cowboy."

"Reckon if it's a no smokin' zone, you can't stay either partner."

"Good morning!"

Shit, is it necessary to be so loud? Reinhardt echoing in my skull 'n I'm startin' to sound like Mercy, rubbin' my eyes til I feel like I'm about to fall over. If I could ignore his words a lil, I'd try my heart out. "I'd like to welcome Miss Alejandr-" I cut out. All at once, like I slipped straight to fuckin' hell and back and I can't keep my eyes off of her, "fuckin-"

Sombra.

And I find myself speechless, chest achin' like she shot me dead on spot, she fuckin' lived. I ain't focusing, no way no how, nearly damn chokin' on cigarette smoke- can I hug her? It ain't against no one's rules to hug a sister, peacekeepers and cowboys alike- does she know Reyes is here? 

I ain't much for waitin' around- sittin' around pissin' myself with name choosin', Sombra joins the mix, eye brow raised- "it's been a minute," god damn she actually fuckin' lived. "It's been a hell of a minute, Sombra," guessin' we ain't got much time for reunions. Whisperin' to her through grinnin' teeth as we stand in a circle, group leaders starin' and I couldn't care less- this is the girl I won the fuckin' west with. 

"Genji,"

"I pick... Widowmaker."

"Why I choose Jessie McCree, o' course."
 
One, two, three, snake bites- Sombra and Jessie, goddamn sharp shooters of deadlock and we spend two seconds together before Mercy says my name. Hands clasped together, smiling, I smile back, if somebody steals Sombra I swear I'll shoot em, slidin' a cigarette to her and finger gunnin' -- she'll know. Ain't no time for family reunions, we got capture the flag to win. I ain't holdin' my breath. 

Wanted, dead or alive -- ain't it nice to be remembered. Sombra walkin' back in like I saw a goddamn ghost in a three second seance, "try please," Mercy in his good ear. "For me." I'm tryin', when don't I? Readin' her lips as I take my walk over, I'm ready to kick some ass. Starin' down Sombra, "I don't like losin' much, Mercy." And I hold my breath, watchin' Hanzo flustered, Sombra and Mercy, I can't stop smilin' til it's Widow's turn. Good ole Amelie, I ain't even liked shootin' a lady, I can make an exception for her. "I want Sombra."

Don't we all. 

Ah, all in a day's work, I think I might actually shoot Widow one a these days -- "your turn." Mercy and I a two man army, any option to keep it that way? Mei and Davina, aren't they both specialized or somethin'? Ain't no offense in a terrain specialist and a mechanic, ahh- I hate seein' Davina cry, she been whinin' this whole time. 

"Davina, partner."

I'm too tired to focus any harder.

[✨ zozo.]

Ohhhhhhhhh my god. It's too early. It's too early it's too early it's too earlyyyyyy.

My alarm clock sings to the tune of my favourite radio bop and flashes pink and blue across my closed eyelids. I think I should re-work it to be pink and purple. No, maybe yellow. I don't know, I'm tired. Ugh.

Flash forward to me, half an hour later, dressed in my cutest clothes. (Sans the bunny ears, they told me I couldn't wear those. LAME.) I've got a secret compartment I built into the bottom of this bunk bed that has all the BEST treats, pop and fizz and bubblegum and-

SOUR GUmMIE BEARS HOOOOOOO BOI!

Chugging down yet another can of grape soda, I crunch the empty vessel in one hand and throw it out the window. The driver glances at me, disgruntled, and rolls up the backseat windows. Whoops?

Bleeps and bloops and I beat MegaTRON 5000 with a new high score, FUCK YEAH! This day is off to a great start already. 

I think that soda's starting to kick iNnNnNNnnnnnnNn oH SHIT I'M SPRINTING OUT THE CAR DOOR THE SECOND WE PARK.

"Woooohoooo see ya later misterrrrrrrr!"

The driver thinks I'm crazy. He's probably right.

Gramps is here! And everyone else - gross - but at least Gramps is here. I run up to tell him I've beat my new high score but a white-gloved hand tugs me through a door before I have a chance to yell a "GOOD MOOOOORNING!"

"Good morning!" he says to us all. Eh, it'll have to do. I'm buzzzzzzzing. 

Oh wow oh wow there's a new girl here, I can't pronounce her last name but I pick up Alejandra - wow, I love her hair. She's got this grin on her lips that makes her look like a) a criminal, b) a good time and c) smarter than nearly everyone in this room (save for ME!) so I immediately like her. I think she'd look good in purple. Hey, maybe we could match-

WE'RE PLAYING A GAME! Holy shit. I can barely keep myself from jumping up and down - oh, too late, I'm jumping up and down. Fizzpop, it bubbles in my feet, I can still taste the grape-flavoured syrup behind my teeth and I've never been more excited since I got here.

Well, save for my Christmas present from Gramps.

It sits in the bottom of my bag in its little shell with my toolbox, the most precious of my belongings hidden away from these hooligans. I know, I know, we're all technically criminals - even me - but like, I was just tinkering with the ol' Peacekeeper air jet, I swear! I get locked up for being smart? No fair.

Some of these crazies are locked up for murder and I get put in a ring with em? No fair!

No fair to them, though. Not me. I could take 'em easy. Can practically feel myself punching that Widow bitch straight in the face. Ha. Murderous BITCH!

"Genji."

"Jesse."

"Ana."

Yo, wait a minute. They're not picking me?!

One by one they pick someone and it's NOT ME. Hmph. I jump up and down when Tracer scans her eyes across the group of us, waving my arms madly - wow, she's so cool.

"I pick... Widowmaker."

Wait, what the fuCK?! Aw man, I thought we were tight. Now I'm pouting. "Ughhhhhhhhhhhh" I groan, letting them know I'm upset.

"Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh."

"I want Sombra."

Damnit, I WANTED HER! Teams of 3 can kiss my ass. What were you even thinking, Gramps? Man, I bet if Gramps coulda picked someone he woulda picked me. Maybe even more if I stop calling him Gramps, but he's got that beard and the grey bits of hair at the back of his head and honestly? It's just funny.

"UghHghgGgHhhGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH-"

"Davina, partner."

"YEEEEEEEEEEEES!" I shriek, scrambling up towards my team and not caring that my voice is high-pitched like an 8-bit character on an LED screen or that everyone just winced, half-asleep cringes at my nail-board voice and desperate for the caffeine pumping through my veins.

"Y'all" I try out towards the crowds, beaming, elbowing Jesse in the hipbone because he's really tall and I'm really small "are gonna REGRET not picking me sooner!"

Jesse's bug-eyed and swooning at that new girl. Me too, Jesse, me too. Except I wanna tear things apart with her and I think Jesse wants her to tear him apart.

Ha, big dumb cowboy. Smart enough to pick me, tho.

Let's win this motherfucker!