R
Ringmaster
Guest
Overwatch.
A mythic name for a mythic group. Invocating images of the Heroes of Ancient Greece, the crew of the Argonaut or the Fellowship of the Ring, Overwatch was everywhere. They were the emblems of hope, justice and of pride. They were people who accomplished the impossible. But that was a long time ago.
What remains is now bits and pieces.
Writing on the wall, from both those defiant as images of Tracer and others are graffiti'd over to those who still have hope, even if its so much as a small addition saying simply 'Overwatch lives'. Hope is a precious commodity. It is hope that our story begins here.
Saudi Arabia.
Always a place of conflict, despite the riches this country has accumulated. During the ominic crisis, they have seen their fair share of turmoil in addition to the rest of the dregs that show up in such time. The vultures and the scavengers, those who make a killing in blood and iron. One such den of thieves and worse being the city informally known as Shaitan's Seat. Now rumored to be the site of a Talon Operation, seeking something beneath the city.
Its a grubby, ancient city. Old construction of baked brick and electrical wiring. Solar panels catching the sunlight and the streets clogged with camels and jeeps. Herds of goats as always are a staple as following the traditions of their fathers, they are led to market and then led away to their pens. Ominics perform the degraded jobs that humans would be loath to perform and overall, there is a sense of equilibrium in this place. A balance of fear perhaps, as thugs masquerading as soldiers stalk the streets, or worse....But it is there. The people have been under this domination their whole lives. To think it could change for the better is impossible....But then again...
'Impossible' can be just a word.
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The scream of a steam whistle shook the cars, the outdated yet still powerful steam engine crossing the desert to the supply depot. Most modern forms of transport tended to break down in the desert and so far from parts as well. In such times, they fell back on old means and ways. A steam train was not exactly impossible to care for and did the job it was meant. Nothing more needed to be said.
The cars were filled with cargo, foodstuff, electronics....Water of course, drinking water was a powerful commodity in a desert. Water and guns. This was the most protected car of all. Though like the stories of such vehicles before....A train, more then most....Was incredibly easy to sneak on....
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The other path into Shaitan's Seat came from the open road. Old-school Jeeps driving over the rocky path towards the gates of the city, the sun slowly setting in the sky. It was the cool hour soon- Where people could move about more freely, bereft of the heat of the day.
However you entered....Via one way or your own, you were drawn here for a reason.
Overwatch Lives.
@CrunchyCHEEZIT @BarrenThin @Whoever