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Everyone knew that Ana Amari had a daughter. No one knew her name and how she looked (though most of them were sure the girl was a splitting copy of the older Amari). And when Ana announced that her daughter had been serving in Egyptian army for eight years now and showed interest in joining Overwatch… everyone was intrigued. And when jack asked what Amari Junior could offer to the organization, Ana, with a proud grin, said that her daughter was a member of the Anubis Strike Team, an elite team of Raptora Mark VI pilots… Jack was sold right away.
So, when every interested recruit was arriving at Watchpoint: Gibraltar the whole Overwatch team gathered in the hangar.
And the wait gave Angela time to think about how she was best friends with Jesse McCree. The man was a walking disaster in her eyes. Yes, he was a loyal friend, a talented gunslinger… But that hole of a mouth he had never shut up and would say most inappropriate things in the most inconvenient moments.
Like, right at that moment as they stood beside Jack, as volunteers were arriving at Gibraltar’s base for the trials to get a chance to join the organization. And he just kept pointing at every woman that was ‘her type’. And Angela just kept elbowing his side.
And apparently, she wasn’t the only tired of Jesse’s antics. Jack turned to them, glaring at the two. “Can you be professional for once, McCree? And you, Angela, don’t fall to his level.”
“Jack.” Ana piped in, glaring at the man. “They’re young, let them have fun. Even if it’s a banter.”
“You’re ruining the proff-”
“Strike Commander Morrison?” Everyone turned. And Angela would never admit, even under the most horrific torture, that her brain shut down at the view.
That was her type of women. Tall, with sharp features, dark eyes and dark hair and dark skin. The uniform she was wearing clung tightly to her body, showing off the muscles. Around her right eye was Udjat of Eye of Horus. Angela was afraid she was drooling, because the woman was standing with her arms folded in front of her and the sleeves of her uniform jacket were straining against her biceps. Angela was a sucker for nicely defined arms.
“Yes?” The woman saluted him.
“Major Fareeha Amari.” She said in a respectful, clipped, military tone. “United Forces of Egypt. Captain of the Anubis Strike Team.”
“Wow! Major? Impressive.” Winston exclaimed, smiling at Fareeha, the smile the young woman returned.
“You actually haven’t mentioned that she was Capitan of the A.S.T..” Jack said pointedly to Ana.
“Never trust this woman,” Fareeha said, nodding her head in Ana’s direction. “Not the wisest decision.” The older Amari gasped, placing an arm over her heart in mock hurt. But after a moment she shrugged and walked over to Fareeha. She placed both hands on her daughter’s shoulders, making her lean down, so she could place a kiss on her forehead. The next moment the two indulged in a conversation in Arabic and now that Angela was paying attention… she died just a little.
Melodic, slightly throaty voice. She saw the disaster coming.
After the official speech and debriefing, Jack sent Fareeha into the med bay with Angela for a checkup. He wanted to see what the young soldier was capable of tomorrow.
Angela told Fareeha, when the two entered the bay, to take off the top clothes and only leave a bra on while she went to the cabinets to grab a pair of gloves. She turned around just in time to watch the woman, whose back was facing her, take off a tank-top, she apparently had under her dress shirt. And the doctor stood frozen, watching the muscles in her back move.
“Mein Gott…” Angela mumbled under her breath.
“Hmm?” Fareeha turned, the top in one hand. Only the years of professional straining saved Angela from turning bright red and her knees giving out. That was the most perfect stomach muscles she had ever seen. “Have you said something, Doctor Ziegler?”
“I haven’t stare- I-I mean, no. I haven’t said anything.”
Oh, God. She was in so much trouble.