Chapter Text
It was just after the sun’s rays were falling over the horizon. A family of three were sitting on their couch to watch the news. After the ads faded to black, instead of the spinning Overwatch logo that usually opened the news stories, a purple skull appeared on the screen. It stayed there for a few seconds, floating on a black background.
Then, images of burning tents appeared. A lone child was running through the smoke. She seemed to be looking for something. Seconds later, she found two charred bodies. The tent’s pole had collapsed on them, trapping them. The child screamed. A throat-tearing, primal scream of pain. She ran to the bodies yelling in a foreign language. From the right side of the screen, a man in an Overwatch suit walked towards it. He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away from the bodies, ignoring her screaming. The camera zoomed in the bodies. Blackened handguns were near them. They faded to black and other images of destruction appeared on the screen. Overwatch agents appeared in every photograph, in every video. A voiceover began playing. The family recognised Lúcio, the Resistance leader that was making the illegal music that everyone was listening to.
“The images you see were taken directly from the feeds of the Overwatch agents in these scenes. This is how Jack Morrison protects you. By tearing families apart. You see the guns these people had? Morrison was the one who gave them to these supposed terrorists. You’ll ask, why? Well, as he began enforcing more suffocating laws, even the people that supported him began losing faith. He took basic freedoms away from us, saying it was in order to protect us, but we didn’t buy it anymore. So he turned to fearmongering. About four months ago, Overwatch began supplying specific terrorist groups with weapons. At first, only some religious fanatics used them. I’m sure you saw them on the news. Overwatch made sure to appear as the saviour of the communities these groups appeared at. Then, in the past two months, the increase of terrorist attacks all over the world.“
The images changed from battlefields and rural areas to cities, exploded cars and a mall filled with motionless bodies.
“Overwatch supplied the perpetrators of these attacks. They gave them weapons and the means to hide them. Some, they even flew to their targets. Then, Overwatch used the attacks as a way to justify their rule.” A pause. Commander Jack Morrison’s face appeared on the screen, then faded into a white document. “I’ll leave you with one final image. It’s the written order for this operation, signed by Morrison. Take a photo, or screenshot and read it fully yourselves. Overwatch had a noble goal before he took over. We’ll stop him. The image will remain on your screens for as long as we can keep this feed safe. Hurry up.”
Since yesterday’s hacking incident, riots had erupted all over the world. Most were unorganized and small, so Overwatch didn’t react too harshly. But soon, bigger numbers began appearing on the cities the Resistance was stronger.
Two months had passed since Amélie agreed to kill Jack. Lena had ended up refusing the Resistance’s offer. But she remained with them and was now on the diversion team along with Reinhardt, Brigitte, Hanzo, McCree, and Symmetra.
Hana and Torbjörn were back at the Base. Hana had protested when she learned that she had to stay behind but was convinced when she was reminded that she had no MEKA to fight in. Plus, her presence would attract Korea’s forces and that was a hornet’s nest they didn’t need to disturb.
Torbjörn remained as a last line of defence, in case Overwatch launched a counter-attack. He also directed the whole operation, observing the action through small cameras pinned on everyone’s shoulders.
Amélie, Sombra and Ashe were holed up inside a tall building, four thousand meters away from Overwatch’s rebuild headquarters. Amélie had her sniper ready, pointed at the wall of the headquarters. Behind the thick wall, she knew that Jack was probably sitting on his desk, occupied with the riots.
About a thousand meters away from the headquarters, a hooded figure threw something on the road. A teleporter formed from the point of impact and the distraction team slowly emerged from the cyan portal.
Another active teleporter was behind Amélie. If Jack didn’t get out soon, they were supposed to go through it. It would lead to the other side of the building, from where they would have to sneak inside and deal with Jack face to face.
When Angela and Fareeha reached Overwatch’s headquarters, a small skirmish had just begun on the streets outside. Angela noticed Reinhardt’s shield between the rising smoke. She mentioned it to Fareeha but she ignored all that and jumped from the transport before it reached the ground. She turned her suit’s rockets on for a split second, cancelling the gravity’s pull, and walked towards the building.
Angela followed, looking back to the fight in the street one last time as she walked inside the base.
As they walked between the familiar white walls, Angela checked her gun and her suit’s resources. Everything was green. She still needed to occupy her mind with something other than yesterdays revelations so she focused on the woman ahead of her. Fareeha hadn’t said much since they saw Lúcio’s revelations. Only two small questions. “Did you knew about this?” and “Are you coming?”. Angela’s answers were simply “No.” and “Yes”. Then, Fareeha had put on her suit and called transport to the headquarters.
Angela was pulled back to the present as they reached Jack’s office. The simple blue door was closed. Fareeha simply raised her left hand and launched her wrist rocket as she walked. The force of the blast pushed Angela a few steps back but Fareeha remained steady. The door had blasted off its hinges and crashed on the opposite wall.
“What..?” Amélie whispered.
“You saw him?” Sombra quickly asked.
“No... The wall of his office just dented outwards.”
“Internal conflict?” Ashe guessed.
“... Might be...”
The office of the world’s most powerful man was simple. A square room with bright white walls. An empty wall opposite of the door. A wooden desk on the left wall, looking on the big screens that were placed on the right one.
Jack was standing behind the desk, assault rifle on hand. He lowered it when he realised who had blown up his door.
“Fareeha, Angela.” He looked at the bend door. “You could have knocked.”
“Is it true?” Fareeha ignored his attempt to lighten the mood.
“Fareeha, I...”
“Is. It. True?” Fareeha’s voice cracked for a second before she regained control. “You gave them the weapons?”
Jack cowered for a split second, then straightened his back. His body tensed and he lifted his gun slightly. Angela tighten her grip on her staff and slowly reached for her gun.
“I did what I had to.”
“Had to?! You had to arm these madmen?? YOU HAD TO!?” Fareeha took a step closer. She didn’t have her rocket launcher with her, but the Raptora suit had enough firepower to demolish a small house. Jack raised his gun more, still not pointing it directly at her.
“Fareeha. Listen to me. Lúcio’s rebellion isn’t the first. When we enforced the curfews, most of the world was conspiring to take me down. I had to give them another enemy until we could push our surveillance projects. And we did. It’s over. The men who attacked the mall in the U.S. were the last group that we had armed. All we need to do now is to take down Lúcio’s rebellion and we’ll finally have peace. Forever. Fareeha... Please, it was the only way. Back up, take a leave, think about this. I don’t like it any more than you do, but I had to do it.”
Fareeha clenched her fists.
“You saw Lúcio’s broadcast. Remember the kid in the first video?”
“... I do.”
“I wouldn’t have to kill her parents if you didn’t arm them. I wouldn’t have to kill anyone there if you didn’t arm them.”
Tears formed in Fareeha’s eyes.
“And what about the people inside the bus that exploded in France? What about the people that were caught in the explosion on the Autobahn outside Berlin? What about the people in the mall in New York? Did they HAVE TO DIE? WE WERE SUPPOSED TO PROTECT THEM FROM THESE EXACT SITUATIONS!!!”
“Fareeha... Sweet-pea... Please, don’t...”
“I can’t bring the people I killed back. But I make you answer for what YOU did. Put the gun down and come with us.”
Jack was misty-eyed, but he kept holding on to the gun.
“Where?”
“We’ll hand you over to the Rebellion,” Angela said softly.
“They’ll kill me.”
“I’d do it myself but you still have the face of the man that raised me.” Fareeha answered sharply.
His face turned into a grimace of pain. Two drops of tears fell from his eyes and he inhaled sharply, like he was shot. He fell back into his chair, looking at her.
“I don’t think he’ll get out. Should we go in?” Sombra was getting impatient.
“Not yet. Wait a bit more.”
Jack finally remembered that Angela was in the room. He looked at her for a moment and his expression slowly turned from pain to rage.
“You... You never believed in what we do. You... YOU TURNED HER AGAINST ME?!”
“No. You did that.”
He got up. Angela reached for her gun but she wasn’t fast enough. Jack fired at her. Bullets slashed through her left arm and she fell spinning to the floor. He aimed at her again, hatred boiling in his once kind eyes.
Seeing Angela fall was the last straw for Fareeha. She screamed and unleashed hell from her suit. The Raptora’s wings opened and multiple missiles launched from her sides. Jack’s instincts kicked in and he jumped to the left, trying to take cover under the bend door. The wall behind him crumbled from the explosions. Jack’s cover worked for half a second, but then Fareeha aimed the missiles on him and kept firing. Using the smoke as cover he jumped further left and fired his own rockets at the Raptora’s right wing. The blast spun Fareeha around and dropped her on her knee, stopping the missile barrage.
The wall that the trio of Amélie, Ashe and Sombra were observing blew up and a few small missiles flew of the grey smoke behind it.
“What was that?!” Sombra jumped up.
“No idea.” Ashe turned to Amélie. “You should be able to hit him if he’s still in there, right?”
“Yes.”
The smoke was hurting her eyes but that didn’t stop Fareeha from getting up, turning and catching Jack with an uppercut as he tried to get to the door. The force of the Raptora enhanced punch lifted him in the air and send him crushing on the monitor wall. The warm metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.
A little girl was standing above him, holding a rifle made of wood. He pretended to be asleep as she sneaked up closer and aimed the toy at him. She giggled and poked at his arm with the toy.
“Got you, Uncle!”
The little girl was a woman now and there was no giggling as she stood above him. Fareeha grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him at the hole in the wall. More smoke was rising from the streets away from the building. For a moment, he thought he saw the characteristic light blue of Tracer’s movement in the smoke. Then Fareeha lifted him and he hanged above the street, her grip the only thing that kept him from falling.
“Why..?” Fareeha asked crying. She tilted her head slightly to the side, as if to see him better.
“...for... peace...” Blood spilt from his mouth. “For Ana... For every one that died in their idiotic wars-”
“SHE NEVER WOULD HAVE WANTED THIS! YOU KILLED INNOCENTS!”
“I... did what I had to.”
“I see him, I see him! Amélie, take the shot!”
“Amari is right behind him. If I miss or the bullet passes through him, she’ll get hit. Patience.”
The smoke was slowly escaping the room, but Angela still couldn’t see Fareeha.
“Fareeha? Are you okay?”
Fareeha turned her head back upon hearing Angela’s voice. Jack, hating himself, kicked her in the stomach, forcing her grip to loosen up as she stepped backwards. Still hanging above the street, he grabbed her fingers with both hands and pried them open, forcing her to let him go. He fell for a split second, then managed to grab on the edge of the hole in the wall. Below, the street wasn’t too far down. His legs could brake, but the entrance guards should be able to help him. If they were still there... He didn’t have any time to think about that. He would just have to hope. Jack sighed and prepared to let go.
Four thousand meters away, a pale, delicate finger pressed on the trigger.
Jack let go. As he began falling, the little girl appeared behind the broken wall. She was crying like the day she learned of her mother’s death. She reached for him, but it was too late. He was falling away.
The bullet went through his head, turning everything to black.
And Commander Jack Morrison was no more.