Chapter Text
[Rebooting].... [Rebooting]...
Echo felt the circuitry of her heart begin to pulse, painfully expanding the delicate pleura of her internal circuitry. Energy coursed through her synapses, sending her artificial sensory receptors into overdrive, her exterior alight with the sensation of numbness and shock. There was very little panic; after all, Echo knew this feeling rather well. Her body was recovering from a hard reboot and, instinctively, she had already initiated a cursory systems check. The cause of her reboot? An eighty percent hull durability injury. Echo made an internal programming comment that, while more analysis was necessary, her current status was “stable.” For now.
A relaxed sigh, followed by a gruff chuckle across the room. “I wasn’t sure you were gonna make it.”
The telltale southern drawl meant only one thing. Echo’s eyelids fluttered open with a sheepish smile. “Hey there, cowboy.”
Across the room, lounging on a cot, Jesse McCree tipped his hat. With his usual simpered expression, eyes crinkled at the corners, he began to kick off his boot and remove his poncho. Both fell into a heap on the floor, releasing a small cloud of dust and dirt. “You alright?”
Echo tilted her head thoughtfully. “I guess it was a risky move, wasn’t it?”
“A bit.”
She bit her lip. “Sorry...”
Another chuckle. “Nothing to apologize for. That little maneuver saved the day. Talon won’t forget you for a long time.”
Echo’s eyes scanned the room quickly: Watchpoint Gibraltar training barracks. The room was empty except for herself and Jesse, though she could see Angela’s casual clothes neatly folded onto the cot beside her. Her last memory, before her hard reset, was of the Alboran sea mist. She had been flying along the water’s edge before gliding steeply up the white rocky cliffs into a stealth flanking maneuver. The results had been devastating for both parties.
“How are you feeling?”
“Fine.” Her answer was a bit too clipped. She sighed ruefully. “I am currently running diagnostics.”
McCree leaned back against the wall behind him, trying to make himself comfortable. “You don’t need any diagnostics. I see the problem plain as day; your stomach is caved in.” He rolled his shoulders. “Sigma’s rock’ll do that.”
“I... see.” Echo looked down at her abdomen. True enough, there was a small concavity above her left hip, though she took umbrage with McCree’s classification of her injury. It was not so bad. “I’ll have Winston see to it later.”
“Good. We need you, y’know. Today would’ve been a mess otherwise.”
Echo scowled. “Not really. Not with you around.”
A scoff. McCree lowered the tip of his hat over his eyes, a signal that the conversation was over. “Like I always said. It’s you they wanted.”
Late at night, in the comfort of her Overwatch-provision home, Echo relaxed. She could see the Singapore skyline from her high-rise apartment, the floor to ceiling windows serving as an interface into the real world. She had chosen Singapore from the catalogue, an homage to Doctor Mina Liao, her creator. Having imported Dr. Liao’s memories and thoroughly analyzed and adopted her personality, Echo had determined since that, all things considered, this was home. Sometimes it felt that way. Sometimes, not.
Below her, she could see the faint pinpricks of light that made up the Bugis Night Market. Instinctively, she touched her synthetic fingertips to the glass, the contact creating a faint chime. She had never visited the night market, of course. But she knew from Mina’s stories that it was a spectacle, filled with real life. Humans would mingle, shoulder-to-shoulder, snacking and laughing with friends. Maybe they would squabble, buy each other chicken satay, fall in love... go home. Perhaps there would even be time to shop for baubles and hear a busking guitarist. The possibilities of human life seemed infinite.
Visiting Mina’s memories, and staring out the window, was always bittersweet.
Gliding over to the settee, Echo wondered if, perhaps, the apartment felt sterile because it was not meant for humans. After all, Echo had no need for a bed, a kitchen, a refrigerator, a bathroom, or even air conditioning. Instead, she had a charging station, which beeped oppressively at ten nightly, signaling her mandatory recharge curfew. The essentials.
For a moment, Echo debated throwing on a heavy overcoat and wandering Bugis. She could imagine the liveliness, the happy accident of brushing hands with a stranger, maybe meeting someone. There were omnics in Singapore – lots of them. And they lived with humans and even visited night markets. But Echo felt nothing in common them. She was esteemed Doctor Mina Liao. Or whatever was left of her.
Absentmindedly, Echo reached for the two framed photographs that sat on her coffee table. They were among Mina’s few remaining possessions after the explosion and were always handled with extreme care. Echo had scrutinized them endlessly, allocating nearly three percent of her data storage to her idle observations. Hardly an evening passed without spending at least a few moments analyzing the color palettes, the camera angles, the micro-expressions of everyone in frame.
The first picture was of Mina as a child, standing alongside her parents on a Hawaiian beach (Kaanapali, Maui, according to Echo’s image triangulation). All three figures were windswept, sand covering their shins, eyes squinted in the bright mid-afternoon sun. Mina must have been ten years old, wearing a pale blue frock, the hem soaked in seawater. Echo always tried to envision that moment as her own, Mina’s toothy grin on her own holographic face.
The second photo was of the original Overwatch team, of course. Emily, Angela, Gabriel, and Jack all standing in arm in arm, with Reinhardt towering behind them. The uniforms were antiquated, and the sepia picture faded. However, everyone’s charms still seemed to extend beyond the frame, their broad smiles indicating a recent, euphoric victory. At the corner, Jesse stands coyly, his hand on this brim of his weathered cowboy hat. Echo lingered there, analyzing every pixel of his nonchalant pose, the foreignness of his “cowboy” schtick. Her eyes then flicked over to young Mina, leaning heavily on Jesse’s arm, eyes bright, loose strands of hair falling onto her comely face.
They were all so happy together. Well, for a while.
Echo turned from her pictures, gliding to her charging station. It was still an hour before her sleep curfew, but the rest was welcome. Besides, Echo had realized that lonesome silence with her thoughts was more damaging than gunfire. Every morning, after evenings such as these, she would awake with virus notifications, thought patterns which required quarantining and diagnostics. Staying awake and simmering in longing was hardly worthwhile.
Sidling past her overly modern, sterile furniture, Echo sank into her charging station, the lights at the base turning from red to an aqua blue. As she fell asleep, her final thoughts turned to Jesse, with Mina draped on his arm, their smiles, their inside jokes, their...
Sometimes the darkness is a well-earned respite.
“Are you ready?”
Angela’s kind voice was like chimes in the wind, and Echo could hardly help but smile. “Echo online.”
“Ausgezeichnet. Stay in my sightline and I can reach you. Today, you will be my wings.”
Echo’s holographic lips twitched playfully. “Of course.”
Angela nodded, her attention immediately turned elsewhere. She was in “pre-mission mode,” as Echo liked to call it, and was busy caring for everyone but herself. Her eyes flitted anxiously between Reinhardt, Hana, Brigitte, and McCree, the dropship’s jostling occasionally causing her focus to falter. “Brigitte, you know to stay behind Reinhardt right? Just because he charges in foolhardy does not mean you need to follow.”
Brigitte rolled her eyes. “Yes, mother.”
“Very funny. Reinhardt, you better take care of her - or else.”
Reinhardt shared an exasperated look with Brigitte. “She can handle herself, Angela.”
“Talent or no, that poor girl is your responsibility,” Angela scowled. “You should take this more seriously.”
The old man inhaled deeply. “Brigitte has made her choice.”
McCree’s laidback voice carried over the impending argument. “Gentleman, ladies. Relax. We can handle this.”
Echo looked up sharply to McCree, who merely offered his usual coy smile. She registered faintly that, gruff as he was, his expressions always glowed with a warm, casual command of the room. It was the confidence, Echo surmised. Acting as though one always had the upper hand typically correlated to a similar result. She logged that observation in her memory bank, even as she bit her lip shyly.
“You ready for drop?” Echo was awakened from her thoughts by McCree’s voice, his hand resting limply on his knee. “I don’t want you doing anything too risky.” Like last time.
Echo tilted her head nearly imperceptibly. “No promises, Jesse.”
That earned a chuckle from the cowboy, who responded only by putting on his hat, keeping the brim low over his eyes. “Guess it’ll be my job to keep an eye on you, then.”
“I suppose so.”
Athena’s voice rang clearly through the ship’s speakers, turbulence rocking the passenger bay. “Drop commencing in ten seconds.”
Brigitte thumped her flail against her shield, the hard-light barrier twanging in response. “Let’s do this!”
Echo felt the bay door open below, and the sweep of wind rise under her wings. Below, she could see the spire of Lijiang Tower rise over the Chongqing skyline, the city glittering in the night. Veins of gold, red, and white light coursed along the major thoroughfares, with popular areas twinkling brightly with activity.
“Echo, initial scout maneuvers commencing.”
The restraints that held her in place suddenly released, and Echo felt herself drop into the darkness above the city. For just a moment, while plummeting, she took a moment to relish the wind on her face, the cool air running along her separated limbs, the intoxicating infinity of falling into such a glimmering world. It was hard to end the moment, but eventually she spread her wings, gliding into the night, chasing the sound of gunfire.
[Ten years prior.]
Echo sat on her metal stool, watching Mina work well into the night. The lab was dark and quiet, save for the faint taps of the doctor’s hands alighting across the keyboard, her forehead creased with focus. She paused, stretching her long fingers before slumping back into her chair, mulling over a promising thought. After a pause, she sprung forward, aggressively tapping the backspace button, a long strand of black hair falling in front of her face. She was writing furiously now, no doubt trying to stabilize her newest breakthrough into writing. A twitch at the corner of her lips indicated a tentative, hopeful victory.
This was a process Echo loved to observe. Even as she sat silently, passively in Mina’s workshop, she was gathering data, exploring the contours of human micro expressions, the lulls and crests in productivity. Internally, her data processors whirred and buzzed, analyzing Mina with loving exactitude. She was a model scientist, a benevolent creator, and, as far as Echo could tell, a dutiful mother. “A singular woman,” Echo had read Mina titled in an online magazine article. Doctor Liao called for careful study and, perhaps, emulation.
“You missed dinner.”
Mina looked up sharply, her expression initially surprised, then pleased. “Hey there cowboy.”
McCree emerged from the shadows of the hallway, a covered plate in his hands. In the workshop’s dim, blueish light, one could hardly make out the unkemptness of his beard, or the mustard stains on his casual button-down shirt. “Howdy, Doc,” he finally replied. “See that you’re working hard.”
A stiff laugh, her fingers continuing to fly across the keyboard. “Hard work is not necessarily progress.”
“I know something that might help with that.”
Mina’s hands stilled, the sinewy contours of her delicate fingers temporarily motionless. McCree placed the plate at her side, the faint clink of ceramic ringing through the workshop. Leaning against the desk, he towered over her, his face illuminated only by the neon light of her computer screen. Echo could just barely hear Mina’s breath hitch.
“I know I ain’t your babysitter, just your guard. But you should eat.”
“And you shouldn’t worry about me so much.” A sigh. Reaching out, she peaked under the cloche, releasing a cloud of warm steam. Underneath Echo could make out Hainanese poached chicken, plated beside a sauce of fresh minced red chili and garlic, as well as side of pandan coconut rice. A single cherry tomato and cucumber slice served as colorful garnish atop the chicken. Mina gasped, her eyes lighting up. “How did you know!”
A low chuckle. “I thought that’d get your attention.”
“It’s my favorite! I can’t believe you got the chef to prepare it. Where did you find chilis? They’re so rare now!”
“Oh, you know.” McCree said, his words dripping with smug, southern charm. “I have my ways. I guess I just thought you deserved a taste of home. I know it’s been a while.”
“It has. It’s.. well. Thank you, Jesse. Really.”
“Well, don’t think too much of it.” McCree nodded, pushing himself off the desk. “Enjoy your dinner, Doc. And don’t work yourself too hard.”
Mina twisted in her chair, wide eyes following him as walked away. “Talk to you later, yeah?”
McCree tipped his non-existent hat, stepping into the hallway. “Anytime.”
For a moment, the cowboy was gone and the room was palpably darker. Echo watched as the excitement bled from Mina’s face, her pupils contracting back to physiologically average size. The doctor cracked her knuckles, leaning back in her chair with a heavy sigh, eyes focused ahead on something distant. Echo could not possibly divine the exact subject of Doctor Liao’s thoughts with any statistical precision, though the omnic had a hunch – one she did not quite understand. Suddenly, Mina sprang from her chair, swiping the plate of food up in her arms. “Wait,” she called out. “Jesse?”
The muffled sound of footsteps. “Ma’am?”
“I was, ah, just thinking. How about now? I suppose I could use a break.”
“Thought you might say that,” he chuckled, his silhouette reemerging from the hallway. Without missing a beat, he extended his arm to her, palm up. “After you, Miss Mina.”
Closing her eyes momentarily, Mina reached forward and grasped his hand before stifling a giggle. "So you never drop the act?"
"What act?"
Echo listened carefully as their steps faded away, the chime of Mina’s clipped English accent ringing throughout the hall, complimented by the occasional hum of McCree’s low voice. Eventually an hour passed, and Mina’s desk light clicked off. Then too, the computer screens faded to black. Echo peered across the room, her holographic faceplate her lone source of light.
It was all a lot to process. Literally.
Echo could feel her own torso burn with the effort, her behavioral cores swimming with new data, organizing and parsing almost infinite moments of synchronized, symmetrical micro expressions. Her hard drive was expanding, creating a new web of content, populated with the pair’s heartrate changes, the flush of their skin, the subtle uncrossing of arms, the unexpected blush. It was all so confusing, and interesting, and... Echo bit her lip. It was all so unattainably human.
An inhuman swallow. Echo decided to experiment. After all, discovery without experimentation was mere theory. Theory, while scientifically salient, would simply not satisfy her curiosity. Scooting forward on her stool, Echo straightened her shoulders, wings tucking close to her back. She tried to imagine what it was like to be Doctor Liao, to have a strand of hair in your face, to have a favorite food, to feel the excitement of a breakthrough. These moments were easy to catalogue, but hard to truly emulate. After all, how would I know for certain?
Echo’s eyelids fluttered, letting her holographic lips part ever so slowly. Pupils dilating, she reached out to thin air, her palm upward, chin tilted. She could feel heat on her cheeks, a sort of uncomfortable emptiness in her stomach, a tickle at the back of her neck. As she reached, dust floated from her shoulders, catching just the faintest blue light, a miasma of nearly imperceptible color percolating around her stiff hands. She could envision the object of Mina’s affections before her, looking at her just as she desired, mirroring her expressions, reaching back towards her outstretched hand. If she closed her eyes, she could devote processing power to feeling the calluses of his hands, the warmth, the confidence...
It was easy, she realized, to emulate Mina’s physical expressions and symptoms perfectly. But everything else? Echo quickly laced her fingers together on her lap, unsure. And perhaps embarrassed. That was a new one.
[Present day]
“Good work out there today. I see your accuracy has improved since last week.” Angela put down her data pad, eyes flitting to Echo. “I am impressed by how quickly you’ve adapted to your tri-shot recalibrations.”
Echo smiled pleasantly. “That was always the idea, right?”
Angela sniffed. “I suppose so. Still... the improvements are remarkable. Doctor Liao would be proud.”
“I am glad to hear it.” Echo blinked.
“And I noticed you had good synergy with Jesse. Excellent. I’ll try to encourage Athena to pair you two more often on missions. Is that alright?” A heavy pause. “Echo?”
“Yes,” the omnic finally managed. “That works.”
“Oh no,” Angela suddenly sighed. “Winston missed a spot. Come here.” Pulling out a damp wipe, she gestured for Echo to sit at her side. “Let me just get the last of this dirt out.”
Gliding over, Echo did her best to not roll her eyes. “It’s really fine,” she chuckled. “It’s just dirt.”
“And?” Angela got to work, scrubbing at the schmutz on her upper left wing. For a moment, the pair was silent, Echo enduring Angela’s oppressive mothering with just enough composure. She continued, “You know you can tell me anything, right? I was best friends with Mina, back in the old days. I...” Angela inhaled sharply, her hands dropping into her lap. “I was hoping we could be friends too.”
Echo tilted her head, meeting Angela’s gaze. “Don’t be silly. Of course we’re friends.”
A relieved exhale. “That’s so good to hear, from you especially.” She patted Echo’s hand, then dropped the dirty wipe into the trash bin at her heels. “It’s just that you remind me so much of her. We were all so sad when we, you know, heard what happened. It’s like I get to have my friend back, in a way. I hope you don’t take that wrong.”
“No, not at all.”
“I mean, I bet that’s why you and Jesse work so well together. Because of, well, you know.”
Echo blinked passively. “Oh?”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.” Angela laughed. “My apologies. However, if you’re ever interested, I could take a look at some of your memories. I know Winston could find a way to make your processing data searchable. There might be something useful about Mina. Something we missed. We could even see if there’s a reason why you–“
“I’m fine, thanks,” Echo suddenly snapped, her voice cold. Gliding to her feet, she daintily brushed off her hands, turning to give Angela a pleasant, if entirely artificial, smile. “I think I should rest now. Thanks for the help today.”
Echo hardly waited for a response, her wings twirling about her torso as she hastily drifted from the room. Hands shaking, she could hear Mercy’s faint voice calling after her, though she hardly cared. After all, it was nighttime – the safest time to fly in the city. And she needed to clear her mind.