Overwatch: Initiation (Razilin, Akbadain 1x1)

[Razilin]

The evening of revelry continued on well into the early hours of the next morning. After several six-packs and a frightening number of bottles of liquor ranging from scotch to tequila, most of the team was starting to feel a little long in the tooth. Reinhardt was already snoring from where he sat on the floor, feet propped up on a low coffee table, and his head resting against the wall; drool dripped from his open mouth and onto his armor. Ana was fast asleep on a couch, her features soft and, for once, feminine once in slumber's hypnotizing embrace. She snored softly.

Jack watched them both with amusement and hobbled over to his best friend, Gabriel. He threw open a window to let in some fresh air. "You know the sad part about a being a super solider, Gabe?" he muttered, gunning down another glass of something stiff and amber. He absently set the empty tumbler on the windowsill. "You stay drunk for about, oh, ten minutes. Sometimes it sucks, having a metabolism that works five times as fast." He could tell that Reyes was as sharp as he was at this moment. Both were survivors of the Soldier Enhancement Program, after all. And both had many of the same gifts as a result: stronger, faster, enhanced reflexes, greater endurance, and an accelerated healing rate and metabolism. If they needed to, they could bench press cars and outrun them, too.

"What're you thinking in that head of yours?" Jack inquired directly. "That stuff Liao found about the lunar base...Project Damocles. I dunno about you, buddy, but that kind of news? I damn near shit my pants. Who knew the Omnics had access to that kind of weaponry? Hope you got a plan...."

 

[Nogyseo]

Liao was sprawled out over the makeshift bar counter, his limbs dangling on either side of the tabletops like a leopard resting aloft in a tree. He seemed more or less comfortable in defiance of the awkward position, likely just the effects of the alcohol. Every now and again though, his features would shift, a shadow flicking across his face as if he just remembered something terrible. He wouldn't have admitted it the next morning of course, but falling asleep drunk always gave him the worst nightmares...

Torbjörn on the other hand might well have been a baby for how soundly he rested, his back propped up against the arm of the sofa and his hands resting in his lap. He looked rather much like the image of a security guard fallen asleep on the job -- as though despite the fact that he appeared to be so restful, he'd spring awake at the slightest bit of sound. Morrison's voice cutting through the then silence didn't rouse him, putting that suspicion to rest, itself.

In response to his contemporary's words, Reyes' face drew taut and his grip on his glass became enough that he might shatter it between his fingers. Luckily, he let his white knuckles relax before that happened, but his muscles didn't follow suit. There was a moment of silence before he finally loosed a ragged breath he seemed not to even notice he had been holding. "The news threw me for a bit of a loop," he muttered after a short pause, his words very much an understatement. "I've always been at least marginally sympathetic to the Omnics and their cause. But, if they have the ability to reason, they're not using it any more at this point. They really are just machines carving out a warpath."

Morrison had asked him for his thoughts and so he was giving them, but he must have come off a tad more depressed than he had hoped, as he quickly allowed himself a chuckle and a shake of his head, seemingly to mask his previous tone. "That's fine by me," he quickly opined, shrugging and downing what was in his tumbler with a single swig. "They're not going to get a chance to fire that weapon. If it takes us going to the Moon to stop them, then, well..." A sudden smirk split his visage. "That's one more place for me to cross off of my bucket list." But, did he have a plan? That was the question that weighed the heaviest on him. At the moment, no: he couldn't say that he did. But, he would think of one. He felt rather much as though he was up against a whole lot more than he had bargained for, but he should have known better than to think things would be any easier. If anything, their actions allowed him to dismiss them for what they were, giving him a newfound resolve to eradicate them. In this situation... that was the best sort of resolve to have.

"What's the matter, Jack?," Gabriel's voice then continued with his characteristic smugness. "Haven't you always wanted to go to the Moon?"

 

[Razilin]

"Well, I did always dream of being an astronaut as a kid," Jack admitted blithely. "Never really agreed much with flying, though. Airsick," he added sarcastically. He elbowed Gabriel lightly. "Taking on a moon base...they never trained us for anything like that back in the Green Berets, did they, buddy? You think we're up for it?" The blond soldier glanced back at the rest of the team, in various states of drunkenness or stupor. "We're soldiers. We fight armies, defend cities. We don't go around saving the world. But I guess that's Overwatch is supposed to be about, isn't it?"

He chuckled, moving to drain his glass again, only to remember it was empty. "Guess in a world-half empty, someone needs to fight for it to be half-full...."

---

Ana awoke on the couch with a splitting headache. "Goddamnit," she swore softly, slowly sitting up on the cushions. Even that gentle motion made her head spin. "I'm gonna kill both Morrison and Reyes for this," she promised to herself, only to cut herself off as a wave of nausea overwhelmed her. She reached for the nearest container available...Reinhardt's discarded helmet. The sounds of puking echoed in the room, accompanied by the splash of something hot and foul into the impromptu bucket in her hands.

A groggy German voice grunted, "MY HELMET!" Which was quickly followed by a groan and a whimpering, "...MY HEAD!" Reinhardt was fighting the mother of all hangovers as he struggled back up from where he was propped up against the wall. "UGH...WE HAVE DONE OUR ANCESTORS PROUD, MY FRIENDS! WHOAAAAH...THOUGH I DON'T THINK THEY'D BE PLEASED BY THE SMELL AFTERWARD...."

"Reinhardt, can you speak in something less than max volume?" Ana pleaded grimly.

"THAT DEPENDS, MEIN FREUND. CAN YOU USE SOMETHING OTHER THAN MY HELMET AS A BUCKET?"

Ana grunted sourly, "What we need is a medic. Commander Reyes," she called out, "think you can arrange something?"

The sniper got back to her feet, wobbly as they were, and hobbled to where Jack and Gabriel were talking. She caught the tail end of their conversation. "Commander, if I may, the Egyptian government has been conducting preliminary experiments in spaceflight. There's a prototype shuttle we've been designing for both atmospheric and low-orbital use. With some adjustments, it might be able to reach the Omnics' lunar base and quickly make a return flight if we succeed in stopping Project Damocles."