B
Broomhandle45
Guest
Cape Town, South Africa.
Every corner of the world had memories of Overwatch when it was an organization worth something to someone. The number of Watchpoints that dotted the globe and left to rot had to settle into the thousands, probably more. There was never a place that didn't have a Watchpoint, some of which Jack probably didn't even know about as the years grew on and Gabriel had shown a remarkable lack of understanding on how command structure worked. But that was a story for another day, he was here for the Watchpoint in Cape Town. The busy streets made an old, bitter looking man blend in, even if he had a large duffle bag over his shoulder. Jack Morrison, Soldier 76. It was a mask to wear when he did his duties, most of the people after him didn't understand his reasons, not that he tried to talk to them. He knew where talking got in this day and age, he was looking for answers, not questions.
Clad in a worn down bomber jacket and cargo pants, he just looked like an old veteran trying to enjoy a vacation. Years ago, he was considered a handsome guy whose face was plastered all over the globe as an icon of valor and courage, now? Now he was old, bitter and scarred. The warmth in his eyes had left and he often kept them hidden behind a pair of sunglasses, it was easier...not like anyone would actually know it was him. He made his way along the beach, hands in his pockets as he peered up at the Green Point Lighthouse. One of Reyes' little hideaways from their Blackwatch days, right underneath a city monument and landmark. The problem was how he found the information: By finding it on Talon's network, that meant they knew...or they had recently known.
Gabriel could be here, but more importantly, he knew Talon was here. It had been 'under renovation' for the past ten years, supposedly. But Jack knew the actual reason. He settled nearby, letting his eyes scan over the exterior of the old lighthouse with a purse of his scarred lips. There was probably no 'quiet' away to go about this, but that was fine. He wasn't here for quiet, entirely. But still, a wolf who tried to jump on the front of his prey was a stupid dog. He liked to think he was long enough in the fang to be creative. But sometimes, creativity bred stupidity, and so Jack Morrison made his way to the front of the lighthouse and headed inside. His ears already picking up the subtle, almost imperceptible whrrr of cameras hidden out of view. Down, not up...so where would that be?
His heavy boots seemed to echo against the empty Lighthouse as he moved closer to the stairs, looking up and then titling his head slightly to the right to kneel down, his hand running over the dusty floor, his knuckles tapping against the stone, until he felt a hollow thud on a corner and leaned over, tapping further. Just right to the side of the staircase on a perfectly camouflaged slab of faux-stone was his entrance. Huh. Gabriel was a smart guy, wasn't he? Out of the way and hardly noticeable, Jack ran his fingers along the floor until he felt something catch. He felt the faint thrum of a biometric scan against his fingers before a tiny little LED light flickered green against his skin. That could mean two things: Gabriel hadn't found this place yet, or he knew eventually that Jack would find it and he'd be waiting.
Nevertheless, Jack rose up as the hatch hissed open to reveal a set of stairs that lead into a well-lit corridor. He dropped his dufflebag and tugged off his sunglasses, reaching in to pull out his heavy pulse rifle and visor as he unzipped his jacket to expose his tac-vest. Little more incognito than he normally did, but that was going to be out the window now. He moved swiftly down the stairs, rifle raised in preparation in an easy kneel. He had aged like a fine wine, his body had never really degraded like it should have, and it seemed like all the years of fighting had honed him into a creature of muscle memory and reflex. It was probably those years that had his feet moving before his brain knew what was going on, the sound of foosteps triggered his training as he moved in low and weapon raised. The first Talon soldier went down with a burst of his pulse rifle and hit the ground with three burning holes in his chest.
Return fire sounded, the horrible roar echoing in the underground Watchpoint as bullets slammed into the concrete and Jack moved up, spraying his pulse rifle across the hallway as they dove for cover and he moved in closer, ejecting a magazine to slam one in as he slid across the hall with bullets stitching after him. He had seen the blueprints of this place, it was just a series of downward rooms and offices that used to support Blackwatch R&D and Interrogation, with a secret harbor at the base of the cliff. That would be as good of an escape as any, assuming he could get what he was looking for here.
He glanced out of his cover faintly, fingers tightening on his rifle as he heard the tell-tale sounds of a magazine dropping. Two men left right now, one of them was reloading. Jack moved out and shifted his front grip, the underbarrel clicked open and launched his helix rocket, catching the man on the shoulder in a spray of blood as he hit the wall with a bloody thump. The last man barely had a chance to react before Jack put four in his chest and moved deeper into the facility. Gabriel had so many skeletons that it's a wonder he didn't live in a graveyard, this was a lucky find for Jack. It was clear this place was being used for new and old, which meant he had some house cleaning to do, he wondered often how different it could have been if he had paid closer attention to Gabriel...and he supposed here, he'd find out in some way or another.
The base was cast in the emergency lights, Talon operatives moving to intercept Jack as he headed swiftly down the stairs like an angel of death, his visor illuminated by the muzzle flash of his pulse rifle. Talon was nothing but a group of buzzards; praying on the corpse of Overwatch and growing fat from it. Finally, however...he found it. The blueprint layout over his visor told him the door to his right was where he needed to be. He gave a careful sweep on either side of him before reaching in the back of his tac-vest and placing a breaching charge against the door and turned away, the explosion blowing the door inward as he weaved inside, his visor highlighting two silhouettes.
They moved to draw weapons, and Jack opened fire, splattering the computer screens in blood. He moved closer to the console, shoving off one of the corpses and slipping out a decryption device from his pocket and plugging it in. It'd load up everything the harddrives had, and crack them wide open. That took time, time that he probably didn't have. Time that he had to spend watching his back. But it was quiet, almost...too quiet, maybe it was his paranoia or all of the juice that they pumped into him that made him hyper-aware of his surroundings, but he could hear the air through the vents stop and start like a faint little whisper-
That wasn't air. He turned a second too late when he heard the bark of a shotgun, he felt the buckshot stab into his kevlar lined jacket like a hundred knives as he hit the wall with a pained growl, his rifle clattering to the floor. Dammit. Fuck. Dammit.
Jack, it's been too long. Reaper said casually, lowering his smoking shotgun as Jack tried to get his arm to move. Dammit, he had feeling...but barely. It was broken, in the most optimistic of guesses. You're getting rough at your old age, can't say I know the feeling. he said as Jack glanced up at him.
Now now, Reaper grumbled, his gloved hand gripping around Jack's throat to hoist him up. You're the one that came into one of my little personal spaces and made a mess of everything, blood is a complicated thing to get out of concrete, Jack.
"You can foot me the bill later, Gabriel," Jack grunted heavily, his hand gripping his as he stared into that dark mask. It seemed some things would never change, other than the fact that Gabriel had shot him. Dammit, his arm was useless.
I'll think about it, Gabriel said, shoving him against the wall and slamming his boot into Jack's gut as he discarded his shotguns. We need to have a talk, Jack.
"Me first," Jack grumbled, tugging a knife out of his jacket.
Jack, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you'd want to hurt me. He purred. I'm offended. Jack didn't reply, he simply advanced and shifted his grip on his knife, feinting a jab with the pommel. He still had to buy time, that's all that mattered. Reaper weaved with the feint, slamming his fist into Jack's broken arm as he hissed in pain and circled around, his back facing the console.
Jack, this is too easy. Reaper said flatly. Why don't you just die already? Jack shifted his grip and threw the knife, which Reaper easily sidestepped before he reached for his thigh holster for his pistol and opened fire. Reaper weaved out of the way like an ethereal blur before a shotgun appeared in his hands and he opened fire. Jack ducked and grabbed his device, dropping his pistol to pluck his rifle off the ground. He could buy a new pistol, the rifle was a little more complicated.
Reaper followed after, floating and laughing like a vengeful ghost. Appropriate, considering their history. Dammit, none of this was good in the slightest. But he still had to move down the stairs and get to the boat, even though he knew Gabriel would be waiting for him. He could feel the juice he was pumped with years ago trying to stitch his arm together, he grit his teeth and mashed his broken arm against the wall. It was an uncomfortable and unpleasant realization that he could actively feel his bone trying to mend together.
It wasn't perfect, and he didn't have time to wait for it to get all the way better. It'd have to be good enough to work for now as he roughly supported his rifle with his forearm and moved deeper into the facility. How Gabriel knew he was here was easy to figure out, but the damn ghost was everywhere at once, that didn't matter...hopefully he got something worthwhile from all of this, even if he couldn't stick around to collect it all. What a way to die, wasn't it? Over something stupid and foolish, over a time where nobody would miss some old dog trying to bite his blunted teeth on an ideal nobody cared about anymore. Well, whatever the case...he wasn't dead yet, and he sure as hell wasn't going to die to Gabriel Reyes, the man who ruined everything.
There was no easy way to the hidden dock, and he had a feeling that Gabriel was simply enjoying the struggle of it all, seeing his old friend mow down Talon operatives like a wounded animal. There wasn't any choice, though: he had to run for it. Rifle in hand, bolting across an open dock filled with Talon supplies and weapons with gunfire filling the air.
He knew it was a trap, he knew that if he didn't make it on that boat, he'd be a dead man. He knew once he reached the dock properly and was heading for the first boat that he saw, he knew.
God dammit, he knew. He knew because he could hear the ominous sound of his coat. He turned, his visor flickering on as the sight on his gun linked up. He didn't have the energy or the strength to direct it in any one way as Gabriel appeared on the boat like a monster out of a horror movie. His guns fired, and Jack felt the horrifying pain slam into his chest with a gurgled choke as he held down the trigger, pulse rounds slammed into Reaper's chest as his arm went wide, catching a handful of Talon operatives as they scrambled for cover. Jack's back hit the controls of the boat, and he jerked his armpit down on the throttle and used what little energy he had left to slam on the acceleration and send the boat lurching forward at high speed.
Maybe it was some grace of a God he didn't believe in that the boat didn't spiral out of control and slam into the side of the coast, but he did it. If there was one thing that Jack Morrison could die happy on, it was making sure that son of a bitch Gabriel didn't have the victory he wanted. He wanted to see the life drain from Jack's eyes, he wanted to see his body slumped over in defeat. He wanted to savor it. Jack tugged off his visor with a bloody cough, head tilted back as he looked at the beautiful blue sky and felt the waves bouncing his boat along. Heh, well...maybe he had been running a little too long, eh? Maybe it was time he could rest, maybe the other people in the world had a better idea. Maybe he could let the young pups handle things from now on.
But for now, Jack Morrison just wanted to close his eyes and sleep.[/i]
Every corner of the world had memories of Overwatch when it was an organization worth something to someone. The number of Watchpoints that dotted the globe and left to rot had to settle into the thousands, probably more. There was never a place that didn't have a Watchpoint, some of which Jack probably didn't even know about as the years grew on and Gabriel had shown a remarkable lack of understanding on how command structure worked. But that was a story for another day, he was here for the Watchpoint in Cape Town. The busy streets made an old, bitter looking man blend in, even if he had a large duffle bag over his shoulder. Jack Morrison, Soldier 76. It was a mask to wear when he did his duties, most of the people after him didn't understand his reasons, not that he tried to talk to them. He knew where talking got in this day and age, he was looking for answers, not questions.
Clad in a worn down bomber jacket and cargo pants, he just looked like an old veteran trying to enjoy a vacation. Years ago, he was considered a handsome guy whose face was plastered all over the globe as an icon of valor and courage, now? Now he was old, bitter and scarred. The warmth in his eyes had left and he often kept them hidden behind a pair of sunglasses, it was easier...not like anyone would actually know it was him. He made his way along the beach, hands in his pockets as he peered up at the Green Point Lighthouse. One of Reyes' little hideaways from their Blackwatch days, right underneath a city monument and landmark. The problem was how he found the information: By finding it on Talon's network, that meant they knew...or they had recently known.
Gabriel could be here, but more importantly, he knew Talon was here. It had been 'under renovation' for the past ten years, supposedly. But Jack knew the actual reason. He settled nearby, letting his eyes scan over the exterior of the old lighthouse with a purse of his scarred lips. There was probably no 'quiet' away to go about this, but that was fine. He wasn't here for quiet, entirely. But still, a wolf who tried to jump on the front of his prey was a stupid dog. He liked to think he was long enough in the fang to be creative. But sometimes, creativity bred stupidity, and so Jack Morrison made his way to the front of the lighthouse and headed inside. His ears already picking up the subtle, almost imperceptible whrrr of cameras hidden out of view. Down, not up...so where would that be?
His heavy boots seemed to echo against the empty Lighthouse as he moved closer to the stairs, looking up and then titling his head slightly to the right to kneel down, his hand running over the dusty floor, his knuckles tapping against the stone, until he felt a hollow thud on a corner and leaned over, tapping further. Just right to the side of the staircase on a perfectly camouflaged slab of faux-stone was his entrance. Huh. Gabriel was a smart guy, wasn't he? Out of the way and hardly noticeable, Jack ran his fingers along the floor until he felt something catch. He felt the faint thrum of a biometric scan against his fingers before a tiny little LED light flickered green against his skin. That could mean two things: Gabriel hadn't found this place yet, or he knew eventually that Jack would find it and he'd be waiting.
Nevertheless, Jack rose up as the hatch hissed open to reveal a set of stairs that lead into a well-lit corridor. He dropped his dufflebag and tugged off his sunglasses, reaching in to pull out his heavy pulse rifle and visor as he unzipped his jacket to expose his tac-vest. Little more incognito than he normally did, but that was going to be out the window now. He moved swiftly down the stairs, rifle raised in preparation in an easy kneel. He had aged like a fine wine, his body had never really degraded like it should have, and it seemed like all the years of fighting had honed him into a creature of muscle memory and reflex. It was probably those years that had his feet moving before his brain knew what was going on, the sound of foosteps triggered his training as he moved in low and weapon raised. The first Talon soldier went down with a burst of his pulse rifle and hit the ground with three burning holes in his chest.
Return fire sounded, the horrible roar echoing in the underground Watchpoint as bullets slammed into the concrete and Jack moved up, spraying his pulse rifle across the hallway as they dove for cover and he moved in closer, ejecting a magazine to slam one in as he slid across the hall with bullets stitching after him. He had seen the blueprints of this place, it was just a series of downward rooms and offices that used to support Blackwatch R&D and Interrogation, with a secret harbor at the base of the cliff. That would be as good of an escape as any, assuming he could get what he was looking for here.
He glanced out of his cover faintly, fingers tightening on his rifle as he heard the tell-tale sounds of a magazine dropping. Two men left right now, one of them was reloading. Jack moved out and shifted his front grip, the underbarrel clicked open and launched his helix rocket, catching the man on the shoulder in a spray of blood as he hit the wall with a bloody thump. The last man barely had a chance to react before Jack put four in his chest and moved deeper into the facility. Gabriel had so many skeletons that it's a wonder he didn't live in a graveyard, this was a lucky find for Jack. It was clear this place was being used for new and old, which meant he had some house cleaning to do, he wondered often how different it could have been if he had paid closer attention to Gabriel...and he supposed here, he'd find out in some way or another.
The base was cast in the emergency lights, Talon operatives moving to intercept Jack as he headed swiftly down the stairs like an angel of death, his visor illuminated by the muzzle flash of his pulse rifle. Talon was nothing but a group of buzzards; praying on the corpse of Overwatch and growing fat from it. Finally, however...he found it. The blueprint layout over his visor told him the door to his right was where he needed to be. He gave a careful sweep on either side of him before reaching in the back of his tac-vest and placing a breaching charge against the door and turned away, the explosion blowing the door inward as he weaved inside, his visor highlighting two silhouettes.
They moved to draw weapons, and Jack opened fire, splattering the computer screens in blood. He moved closer to the console, shoving off one of the corpses and slipping out a decryption device from his pocket and plugging it in. It'd load up everything the harddrives had, and crack them wide open. That took time, time that he probably didn't have. Time that he had to spend watching his back. But it was quiet, almost...too quiet, maybe it was his paranoia or all of the juice that they pumped into him that made him hyper-aware of his surroundings, but he could hear the air through the vents stop and start like a faint little whisper-
That wasn't air. He turned a second too late when he heard the bark of a shotgun, he felt the buckshot stab into his kevlar lined jacket like a hundred knives as he hit the wall with a pained growl, his rifle clattering to the floor. Dammit. Fuck. Dammit.
Jack, it's been too long. Reaper said casually, lowering his smoking shotgun as Jack tried to get his arm to move. Dammit, he had feeling...but barely. It was broken, in the most optimistic of guesses. You're getting rough at your old age, can't say I know the feeling. he said as Jack glanced up at him.
Now now, Reaper grumbled, his gloved hand gripping around Jack's throat to hoist him up. You're the one that came into one of my little personal spaces and made a mess of everything, blood is a complicated thing to get out of concrete, Jack.
"You can foot me the bill later, Gabriel," Jack grunted heavily, his hand gripping his as he stared into that dark mask. It seemed some things would never change, other than the fact that Gabriel had shot him. Dammit, his arm was useless.
I'll think about it, Gabriel said, shoving him against the wall and slamming his boot into Jack's gut as he discarded his shotguns. We need to have a talk, Jack.
"Me first," Jack grumbled, tugging a knife out of his jacket.
Jack, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you'd want to hurt me. He purred. I'm offended. Jack didn't reply, he simply advanced and shifted his grip on his knife, feinting a jab with the pommel. He still had to buy time, that's all that mattered. Reaper weaved with the feint, slamming his fist into Jack's broken arm as he hissed in pain and circled around, his back facing the console.
Jack, this is too easy. Reaper said flatly. Why don't you just die already? Jack shifted his grip and threw the knife, which Reaper easily sidestepped before he reached for his thigh holster for his pistol and opened fire. Reaper weaved out of the way like an ethereal blur before a shotgun appeared in his hands and he opened fire. Jack ducked and grabbed his device, dropping his pistol to pluck his rifle off the ground. He could buy a new pistol, the rifle was a little more complicated.
Reaper followed after, floating and laughing like a vengeful ghost. Appropriate, considering their history. Dammit, none of this was good in the slightest. But he still had to move down the stairs and get to the boat, even though he knew Gabriel would be waiting for him. He could feel the juice he was pumped with years ago trying to stitch his arm together, he grit his teeth and mashed his broken arm against the wall. It was an uncomfortable and unpleasant realization that he could actively feel his bone trying to mend together.
It wasn't perfect, and he didn't have time to wait for it to get all the way better. It'd have to be good enough to work for now as he roughly supported his rifle with his forearm and moved deeper into the facility. How Gabriel knew he was here was easy to figure out, but the damn ghost was everywhere at once, that didn't matter...hopefully he got something worthwhile from all of this, even if he couldn't stick around to collect it all. What a way to die, wasn't it? Over something stupid and foolish, over a time where nobody would miss some old dog trying to bite his blunted teeth on an ideal nobody cared about anymore. Well, whatever the case...he wasn't dead yet, and he sure as hell wasn't going to die to Gabriel Reyes, the man who ruined everything.
There was no easy way to the hidden dock, and he had a feeling that Gabriel was simply enjoying the struggle of it all, seeing his old friend mow down Talon operatives like a wounded animal. There wasn't any choice, though: he had to run for it. Rifle in hand, bolting across an open dock filled with Talon supplies and weapons with gunfire filling the air.
He knew it was a trap, he knew that if he didn't make it on that boat, he'd be a dead man. He knew once he reached the dock properly and was heading for the first boat that he saw, he knew.
God dammit, he knew. He knew because he could hear the ominous sound of his coat. He turned, his visor flickering on as the sight on his gun linked up. He didn't have the energy or the strength to direct it in any one way as Gabriel appeared on the boat like a monster out of a horror movie. His guns fired, and Jack felt the horrifying pain slam into his chest with a gurgled choke as he held down the trigger, pulse rounds slammed into Reaper's chest as his arm went wide, catching a handful of Talon operatives as they scrambled for cover. Jack's back hit the controls of the boat, and he jerked his armpit down on the throttle and used what little energy he had left to slam on the acceleration and send the boat lurching forward at high speed.
Maybe it was some grace of a God he didn't believe in that the boat didn't spiral out of control and slam into the side of the coast, but he did it. If there was one thing that Jack Morrison could die happy on, it was making sure that son of a bitch Gabriel didn't have the victory he wanted. He wanted to see the life drain from Jack's eyes, he wanted to see his body slumped over in defeat. He wanted to savor it. Jack tugged off his visor with a bloody cough, head tilted back as he looked at the beautiful blue sky and felt the waves bouncing his boat along. Heh, well...maybe he had been running a little too long, eh? Maybe it was time he could rest, maybe the other people in the world had a better idea. Maybe he could let the young pups handle things from now on.
But for now, Jack Morrison just wanted to close his eyes and sleep.[/i]
