"This is where you can stay," Tracer smiled broadly, opening the door and walking inside. "I mean, it's not much, and if you wanted to stay back home then of course you're able to, love - loads of us stay everywhere else, at our own homes and all that, but..."
Tracer's words were drowned out.
Isabell was lost.
It was huge. Everything. The black bed with blue rings, the ebony chest of drawers, the glass-and-black-marble desk, the floor-to-ceiling windows, the lush carpet, the starlike curtains, the computers, the bathroom, the... Jesus, she could go on all day. It was lush and luxurious, and stank of money, the glass polished to perfection and her own minibar, fridge and even coffee machine.
"...Even me, you know, sometimes I'll stay out somewhere else just for a change, yeah?"
"I didn't even know beds came this big," Isabell stared, running a finger along the black wood and the blue rings. "How did you know about the--"
"That was me," Tracer grinned with a bow. "I knew I wasn't letting you leave until you were in Overwatch. You're too valuable a player in the game. So I called ahead, and got Genji to work some magic on this bed."
"Genji carves?"
"Genji does a lot of stuff," Tracer told her. "I'm pretty sure we don't know the half of it. This was just a spare bedroom in case we got some of our old members back - Jack designed each of them himself. But the specific plans were lost, so they never got completed."
"Jack?" Isabell asked, running a finger along the immaculate glass top on her desk.
"Soldier 76. I'm pretty sure you're allowed to know that now that you're part of Overwatch. With your research, you already know most of us. But Jack... he was..." she bit her lip. "Different."
"He's out there, you know," Isabell said quietly, sitting on the wood bed-end. "You could go find him. Ask him to come back. There was evidence of him in Mexico a few months back, and--"
"No," Tracer cut her off. "No. Jack knows we're here. If he wants to come back, then he will. He's... you know what happened to our last headquarters. In fact, that goes for all of our members - I mean, we have Lucio. He was recruited fairly recently, if a couple of months counts as recently. But everyone knows we're here, and if they want to come, they will." Her voice went quiet. Very unlike her. "We can't force them to come back, love. It's dangerous, this line of work, and as you can see..." she tapped her Chronal Accelerator. "Nobody makes it out unscathed."
Isabell had more questions, but she didn't push it. Even the bouncy, ever-laughing Lena had fears. Limits.
Tracer got up with a smile and headed for the door. Right before she closed the door, Isabell said, "Thank you."
Tracer paused, her hand on the door, and didn't look at her. "For what?"
"For saving me just as much as I saved you. For bringing me somewhere that all the misfits go. For giving me... a place to call home. At least until I can try to fix the laws about Junkers in Australia."
"No problem, love," Tracer nodded, and Blinked.
The door quietly swung in the breeze as she left.
The night sky was glittering outside, and Isabell got up and threw open the massive windows to breathe in the cool air. It smelled of the sea and the rainforest, just like home. Only home had more cars, more pollution, and something else. Some kind of tangy, metallic taste in the air that wasn't here. From the travel time and smell, Isabell was pretty sure she was somewhere in Polynesia, on an island that Overwatch had bought while it was still in its prime.
A place like this had clearly been designed with so many more people in mind. Isabell knew that there was an underground floor for dormitories, for the soldiers who would have lived and trained here alongside the Heroes - from what she could gather from the plans she'd seen on one of the glass walls on the top floor. And just nine of those places were taken up - Heroes who had come to the Overwatch Headquarters and answered Winston's call.
Tracer. Winston. Reinhardt. Mercy. Mei. Genji. Lucio. Winston. McCree.
Just nine.
Out of the dozens of Heroes who had risen from the rubble, only nine had come back to make the world a better place. Of course, there were others out there saving the world - people like the gamers in Korea, the Helix Security group, and even the Vishkar Corporation - even if they went about it the wrong way.
Now ten, Isabell realized, and recounted. Tracer, Winston, Reinhardt, Mercy, Mei, Genji, Lucio, Winston, McCree... and Jinx.
Overwatch was still incomplete. And it would never be the same, especially with Soldier 76 - Jack Morrison.
But it could heal. It didn't have to be the same Overwatch it used to be to help people.
There were so many suffering.
Maybe... maybe Jinx could make a difference too.
Isabell quickly peeled off her suit, hanging her nunchucks on the wall. She went into an adjoining room - which it looked like she shared with the bedroom next door - and found a recreation room. After a bit of searching, Isabell found exactly what she needed. A sewing machine.
She'd never been any good. But for someone like Jinx, it would serve her purposes perfectly. A jinx - backwards, inverted, strange, unpredictable.
She grabbed her suit and the sewing machine, and sprinted towards the elevator.
Jinx would need a fitting costume, now, wouldn't she?
Once again, Isabell worked all through the night. She'd found an empty station a few rooms away from Mercy's and found that the room had soundproofing. Excellent, for the sort of stuff she was going to have to do.
She worked until she heard a loud knock at the glass door and leapt a foot in the air.
Mei waved at her through the glass and mouthed, "Breakfast?"
Isabell realized she hadn't eaten since dinner two days ago.
And she suddenly realized where her pounding headache, nausea and annoyingly unsteady hands had come from.
Isabell wrenched open the door and practically ran to the elevator.
"That was so cool what you did in the arena yesterday!" Mei smiled chattily. "That blast of energy looked amazing. I'm so interested in how your suit and weapons work with your radiation!"
Isabell offered no reply. She was cranky when she was even a little bit hungry, and right now, she'd gladly tear down a city to get to a chicken leg.
"You see, I was a scientist in--"
"Ecowatch," Isabell finished for her, waiting desperately for the doors to open.
"Yes," Mei said delightedly, not at all caring that Isabell had rudely interrupted her. "I did research on--"
"Climate patterns, and you invented your Ice projectile while trying to figure out how to fix the satellite dish tower after you were woken from cryosleep which had malfunctioned and kept you asleep for nine years," Isabell finished for her. Before she could even respond, Isabell ran down the hall and followed her nose to the smell of potatoes.
She barely took notice of the massive cafeteria, or the rest of the Overwatch team eating food. She just saw the buffet and started wolfing down food.
"Jesus Christ," Lucio said in a very un-Lucio-like way, staring at Isabell.
So yeah, maybe she went overboard with the food piled as high as her head on her plate - literally - and sat alone on another table, eating it at a rate that rivaled Winston's. Maybe she was eating enough food to kill a king.
But Isabell hadn't seen food like this. Ever. Had never tasted the sweet crunch of baked potatoes, had never felt the creamy swig of milk down her throat, had never bit down on the sugary softness of a cupcake.
The tastes, the delights, they lifted her to heights she hadn't known were possible.
And as she wolfed down as much food as she could possible stomach, she heard Mei laugh.
"You should challenge her someday, Winston."
Isabell smiled a secret smile, and bit into some icecream.