??? POV-

  I awakened, drowning in light.

  Air flooded my lungs in a sudden, desperate gasp, and the world slammed into focus. My eyes opened to the sterile glow of a laboratory I did not recognize the white walls, reinforced metal framing, conduits lined with unfamiliar technology pulsing with a soft blue hue. Machines I had never designed, never seen yet something about their structure felt awfully faintly familiar.

  I pulled myself upward, fingers trembling against the edge of the vat as fluid streamed off my skin. Cool air kissed my face, my arms, everything feeling new and impossibly sensitive.

  Oh vut? Is this not ..Merci Ve mal…Who? Vut, where am I?

  What happened to my body? Why do I look younger than before? My memories seem to be intact. What was the last time I remembered before all of this? Oh, I haven't the faintest idea. Hang in there, Angela, you can do this! Itch im Bereitschaftsdienst as always. This is nothing new. You can get through this.

  I try to speak, my throat dry and weak as though unused for …well, ever.. My chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm that felt borrowed, foreign yet wholly mine. I looked down at my hands. Perfect. Unscarred. Smooth. Reconstructed with impossible precision. I moved each finger one by one, marveling at how natural yet uncanny it felt.

  A voice echoed distantly in my mind, my own voice, "Heroes never die."

  A mantra, an identity… and yet, right now, I felt more like someone crawling out of a dream.

  Fragments of what was surfaced. Overwatch. The Swiss Headquarters were destroyed, and there were explosions, oh, the explosion. Is someone screaming my name and death? Oh dear, seems like I've suffered extreme permanent damage. The wonders of modern medicine, Ich sollte schnell zuruck and head back. This doesn't seem to be our base.

  "Where… am I?" I whispered to myself, the words shaky in my own ears.

  The room hummed back at me. No answers. No familiar faces.

  I gently stepped out of the vat, legs wobbling but responsive. My feet touched cold metal flooring, grounding me. I tried to centre myself, like during med rotations, Oh! It's cold! slow breath, slow pulse, I shall evaluate the situation with clarity. Self-diagnosis seems to be well. Heart rate monitor and BP are normal.

  But how does one clinically assess resurrection?

  I examined the nearby monitors, displays filled with genetic data, neural map overlays, and something else… a signature I did not recognise. Alien. Structured beyond human comprehension. But woven seamlessly with Human biological science. A chill ran down my spine as I watched all of this. Mobius Corporation and Mobius Foundation? The Xel'naga integration protocols?

  The words flickered across the screen, and I felt my stomach tighten.

  "What have they done…?" I murmured.

  Because this wasn't a simple resurrection, isn't it? This wasn't even my own world's technology. This was something more. Something impossibly advanced and profoundly dangerous if it's wielded by the wrong hands.

  And yet, whatever they did to my body moved fluidly, painlessly, as if perfected. I touched my chest where my heart beat strong and sure. Someone went through unimaginable effort to bring me back. Someone with access to resources and knowledge far beyond any organisation I knew, oh. Someone's been using technology I'm familiar with as well?

  But who? And why me?

  I closed my eyes for a moment, breathing deeply to steady myself. I needed answers. I needed orientation. I needed to understand what happened to Overwatch, to the world, to me. But beneath all the confusion, one constant flickered within me like a soft golden spark

  A mechanical door opens-

  Someone is …oh?

  —-----

  Jason POV-

  It's late in the middle of the night, Trainwreck went to bed and issues with Danny seems to end quite well while the rest of the veterans went to sleep with no issues after having a nice meal during dinner, some of them were still wary of me but majority of them are just grateful they don't need to spend another night homeless scrounging for food and begging for scraps, a place to shower, to have good clean clothes and a place to rest like a proper bed.

  The same kind of issue I had when I first came here, so I can kind of relate. Showering in the public shower in the beach, while I'm grateful for the utility afforded by the city, it's still better to have their own space after all. With the added new SCVs, I can start building a Terran civilian building, like a hotel exclusively for the people under my employ and perhaps even expand.

  So what's the worry, Jason.

  Someone out there asks as if there's an omniscient viewpoint somewhere taking a peek through the looking glass at what I'm doing like a god.. Hi, I'm Jason. Do you not have anything else to do than to watch my pathetic struggles in this world? Go watch Netflix or something.

  In any case, I'm…staring at a particular cloned project I enacted a few days back.

  I stood beside the cloning bay's reinforced glass, the blue biolight humming softly across the lab The blue lighting wasn't my idea. It was Mobius design through and through, down to the pulsing Xel'naga filaments that webbed the vat's interior like veins of alien neon even if it's done with Terran tech line, the Mobius Foundation external design, according to an Emil Narud, Child scientist and head researcher as the most knowledgeable Terran scientist in the Korpulu sector.

  His taste in the colours blue and purple is dreadful. Glad he ain't an interior decorator then, too bad he's also Amon's underling, a devoted servant to the voidgod.

  Monica walked beside me, tablet in hand, her upgraded body moving with a level of precision so human it was almost eerie. She wore her usual neutral expression, though I could see the way she kept glancing at the vat, lips tightening each time slightly. She's enjoying this too much after gaining a body.

  "Vitals stable," she murmured. "Neurological reconstruction complete. Genome and Engram compatibility passed and completed. Xel'naga technological imprinting normalised. No contamination or genetic drift is currently stable at 73%."

  I let out a slow breath, watching the figure float inside the amber gel. A little delicate, even graceful in stasis. Angela Ziegler, if she looked younger, there are no changes to her outer appearance when it comes to her age, even when she was at her peak.

  . Mercy. A woman who shouldn't exist in this world, but here she was, courtesy of leftover Mobius insanity and whatever cosmic joke the universe felt like playing because things never go right for cosmic shenanigans, I was almost hoping for a screwup somewhere.

  Everything looked… perfect. That alone made me nervous.

  "Run it again," I said. My voice sounded steadier than I felt. "Top to bottom. Every subsystem, every seal."

  Monica shot me a sideways look. "This will be the eighth full diagnostic. The probability of error is statistically negligible."

  "Do it anyway please…"

  She sighed, the most human-sounding thing she'd done after messing around the whole day, and tapped a command. The bay lights dimmed as the Xel'naga matrix cycled one more time, symbols rippling like liquid glyphs across the glass.

  I leaned closer, pressing a hand against the cool surface. "I still can't believe Mobius left all this behind. Cloning tech, Xel'naga biomatrix, neural templating…I thought they wouldn't let tech these dangerous behind you know?

  "It was buried," Monica said. "Hidden. And safeguarded with your utmost permission. As the only Terran Commander left in this Universe, direct control and oversight were left to you, Commander"

  "Yeah, well… lucky us."

  She paused. "Or unlucky her."

  I blinked. "What?"

  Monica shook her head too quickly. "Nothing."

  Right. Nothing. Sure, my Adjutant making jokes or just…she just doesn't like Mercy. She made that clear at how often she reminds me if I really want to go through this.

  The scan finished with an audible chime, and the results scrolled across the display—perfect, flawless, impossibly stable. Of course they were. Mobius didn't do things halfway, even when they really, really should have.

  "Okay," I murmured. "Everything checks out. Time to wake her."

  I stepped toward the console, my hand hovering over the activation key. The gel inside the vat swirled faintly, reacting to the system's anticipation cues. Angela was suspended in the center, serene, her hair drifting like strands of gold before all the fluids and gel we're siphoned out and there she lies down covered in a skinsuit for monitoring her vitals.

  I hesitated of course. What if something went wrong despite the checks? This was a big moment. A heavy one. Beside me, Monica stood unusually still. I felt her watching me rather than the machinery.

  "You're nervous," she said.

  "Of course I'm nervous, why wouldn't I be?"

  Monica didn't respond, but I heard the faintest huff is it annoyance or jealousy? Maybe neither. Maybe it's just something complicated I will never understand. Still, everything was ready. Every safeguard in place. Every contingency accounted for.

  I pressed the key.

  The vat lights deepened to amber. The gel began to drain. Systems began the awakening sequence. And all I could do was stand there, heart pounding. She had woken up. Looking a little groggy behind this thick invisible glass from where I'm monitoring her.

  Hey eyes bright blue, searching around with all the holodata, hoping to ease her into what she got into, data about the resurrection process, even data on Cadeceus research and nanotechnology to craft her that new body of hers, a proof of concept that came to reality.

  The moment of truth, I entered the bathroom, took a slow breath before speaking to her, trying to ease the transition between the world she remembered and the world she had just opened her eyes to.

  "Angela… my name is Jason."

  She looked at me, truly looked at me and I could see the flicker of recognition that wasn't recognition at all. Just the instinctive cataloguing of a doctor assessing a patient, or a threat, or both. Despite being a doctor I am talking to an Overwatch Operative.

  "I'm the one who authorized your revival,"

  I continued, trying to find the right words for something that had no right words. "And before anything else, I want to say this clearly, I didn't bring you back for some twisted experiment."

  That seemed to ground her. She exhaled slowly, curling her fingers around the fabric of the blanket after Monica wrap it around " And I'm Monica, his adjutant. Please relax and dont be alarmed Doctor Ziegler, all will be explained in due time, shall we head to the medical bay for a quick checkup?" she asked politely.

  Angela Ziegler, or simply Doctor Ziegler, Everyone else knows her as Mercy, She straighten up on the med-platform, a thermal blanket draped over her shoulders, golden hair still damp from nutrient gel. Her eyes were bright but uneasy, scanning everything with the clinical precision of someone who had saved countless lives and judged herself for every one she couldn't and simply nodded.

  I stepped closer, keeping my hands visible, keeping my voice level. I took a seat on the opposite stool, giving her distance but not detachment.

  "This world," I said, "isn't the one you remember. The Earth you knew 'Old Earth' that timeline is gone. You're on Earth Bet now. A parallel world with a different history and… different problems. Big ones."

  Her brows tightened at that little bit of information "Oh? Do tell Jason. Don't keep me in suspense" she said.

  I couldn't sugarcoat it. So I didn't.

  "Humanity here is heading toward an apocalypse. Not metaphorically. There are things called Endbringers here, living weapons, unstoppable monsters that attack cities randomly. Every few months, one shows up and kills thousands before capes or just parahumans manage to drive it off. Parahumans are people with abilities, humans similar to someone like Tracer."

  . She listened, the way a woman who had triaged through hell and the Omnics war to just simply learn and listened. She didn't interrupt me at all so …

  I went on.

  "Parahumans get their powers from crystalline alien entities called Shards. They embed themselves in people during moments of trauma. The powers they give out aren't miracles, they're experiments like lab rats to the things that seeded them to be used a a data collection tool"

  A faint ripple of horror moved across her face, controlled but unmistakably there.

  I rubbed the back of my neck.

  "And worse… the entire thing is part of a cycle that's going to end with this world cracking apart unless someone or something breaks the loop. I cant say any names yet because precogs do exist in this world and clandestine operations are being orchestrated from the background to feter out anyone against them, Best not to attract any issues until I perfected our blanket with the psi emitters and dampers to block them for now, this is…the kind of world we live in"

  I didn't tell her that the timelines suggested humanity had maybe two years left. Not yet. She was already absorbing too much.

  "My technology comes from somewhere else, somewhere similar to your world, except it was in the future, at least three hundred to seven hundred years, depending on the tech, I suppose," I admitted. "Another universe. Terran tech, I could build factories, units, and mechanical engineering based on science and some of it belonged to an organisation called the Mobius Foundation. They left behind… fragments. Enough to bring you back."

  Angela lowered her head slightly, absorbing that piece of impossible truth with quiet gravity.

  "I revived you because this world needs you," I said softly. "Not as a soldier. Not as a weapon. But as who you already are a doctor, a healer, someone who believes people can be saved and if necessary..somone who can ultimately decide if she wants to bring her former comrades to protect this Earth."

  Her eyes lifted to mine again blue and searching "And because," I added, "I don't want to fight this alone." It was the truth, I cannot do this alone, and I dont want to involve the people of this world since I know what will happen in the future. Perhaps it's hubris of me to think that way, but if things keep up accordingly to how this world operated like before, it will end up with severe casualties.

  I waited, heart steady, hoping to God I hadn't just dragged an angel into hell.

  "Nur nicht aufhoren! Jason, you're getting to the good part Wie vom Arzt verordnet, tell me more about these…Endbringers! What are their weakness? Do they bleed? Biological or Mechanical? "

  Angela absorbed every word I said about Endbringers, Shards, a certain pot that I refuse to say the name of course, because the bogeywoogeywoman will appear and do a headshot, no thanks.

  Tried to explain in detail as to why this world will fall in decline, talking about the Orange- I mean Golden man( he does look a little Orange from the sunlight sometimes), the slow-motion apocalypse we were all living in.

  Her posture stayed graceful even in a borrowed medical robe while still wearing that skinsuit, but her eyes… they dimmed with that quiet grief only someone who has lost too much can truly carry. And she had lost an entire organisation, a future, a world. I even had to tell her how the government here had fallen into the Protectorate, explaining to her the various factions of the world, like the Chinese Union Imperial or CUI, the Yangban

  When she finally spoke, her voice was steady, clinical yet soft in that unmistakable "Mercy" way."We have to bring back my team, Overwatch can do a lot here. I know my teammates would want to help" She wanted to bring them back despite the dangers this world brings.

  The moment she said "my team," I knew she had already made her choice and had come to a decision. If she refused, I thought id find a way to send her back home somehow, even if I dont know how, or even if I could even attempt to,

  . Monica's holo-screens fluttered like startled little dumb pigeons as her status windows reorganised themselves, and she began pulling up deeper layers of the cloning database under the cache. "Project Overwatch" Angela stepped closer to one of the floating displays, studying the genetic repositories with a tension I couldn't blame her for.

  "Oh, everyone is accounted for" she said while smiling at their familiar names.

  The list was pretty self-explanatory DNA tags labelled "Reinhardt Wilhelm," "Jack Morrison," "Lena Oxton," "Genji Shimada," "Fareeha Amari. And Ana Amari" Half of them impossible, some contradictory, many incomplete, but most of them have a high Engram rate above 90% even Honorary Omnics Engrams such as Echo and..The Omnics list is missing.

  Angela looked at the list like she was staring at old ghosts.

  "I don't know if the data is complete," I told her carefully. "Some of those profiles have gaps so big that I won't touch. Much of the data that came from Blackwatch is corrupted, and the data regarding Omnics is missing"

  She turned, and for the first time since waking up, she looked… alive. Focused. Determined. Mercy-determined—the kind of determination people wrote speeches about.

  "If the Engram is intact," she said quietly, "I can fill in the rest, you use parts of my research as well, I've seen a Cadeceus Reactor here and I can practically feel the nanobots within me albeit a little bit different and advance, I would love to read the research progression of a world 300 hundred years in the future and its technological leap that humankind has taken. Winston will love this data once he sees this."

  If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  Monica shifted beside me, crossing her arms with a huff that was far too human for an adjutant program. I pretended not to notice her staring daggers at Angela's every breath."There is an issue regarding Winston's. He is a Primate and thus needs some alteration to the container, not to mention. Our research data only has sufficient data regarding human cloning and engram resurrection"

  Angela continued scrolling through Mobius' insane catalogue of humanity with a surgeon's precision. Every so often her brow tightened—at genetic inconsistencies, data corruption, or the clear signs that Mobius tried to reverse-engineer abilities they didn't even understand. But then she saw a profile and brightened slightly, as if reuniting with a dear colleague.

  "I can save them," she murmured. "I can fix them. Give me time."

  Her hands trembled. Just slightly.

  I stepped closer. "If you're sure. This world… it needs people like them. It needs Overwatch far more than it ever needed during the end of the Omnics war."

  Angela exhaled slowly, like she'd been underwater for years "The Omnics war ended?"

  "Yeah" I sorta nodded, to be fair the war kinda changed a little in the future, and they made peace..sort of?.

  "Good news then, as for Winston, It will take time, I will need a DNA of a gorilla. They do have gorilla's on this earth, do they not? If not, it will be almost impossible to recreate the body needed for the mental sync, according to these Mobius data," she said. "And equipment. And support. But… yes. I will need to rebuild everything too, if this is real, if I am truly here, and this world truly needs saving like you say-I will bring them back."

  Behind me, Monica's tail-end diagnostics beeped softly. I didn't look at her, but I could feel her bristling with a genuine surprise on her face as I could hear a murmur saying "So this is what a true hero feels like, I think I can understand" quietly that I almost didn't hear that right.

  Angela pressed a hand lightly to the cloning console, head bowed in silent resolve. "They deserve a chance to fight again."

  For the first time since she stepped out of that vat, she looked less like a resurrected relic and more like the doctor no, the hero the world once trusted to lead them through catastrophe.

  And god knows Earth Bet needed heroes.

  "Alright then," I said quietly. "Let's bring Overwatch back."

  Angela smiled, a little tired but hopeful.

  Monica muttered under her breath, annoyed. "Commander, this won't be easy. The appearance of an organisation like The Overwatch is going to turn some heads. The percentage of working under no scrutiny will no longer be in our favour," she said, crossing her arms as her eyes flickered with all the data flow parsing out the necessary processing needed to streamline everything we just said and get to work to build the necessary equipment needed.

  I nodded as well" Since when has our mission ever been easy? You expect me to fight an endbringer with tanks and mechs? Those things are so dense, they warped the very fabric of space, We need minds that pioneered the Terran ingenuity that could fit this current timeline, I could bring in someone from the Confederate or the Terran Dominnion, but they won't have the right mindset to tackle this, if every problem is a hammer and the result of that hammer is to just send more nukes? How the hell is that helping me? Tell me that's what they won't do, I dare you! I double dare you since that's what anyone under Mengk's direction will do! Just send nukes and more nukes!"

  Monica huffed, even more annoyed " I was hoping you would rely on the men and women from the UED, but yes, that is the right culture for any hot-blooded true Terran born within the Korpulu sector. The percentage of glassing an entire planet inhabitable is likely the end result."

  I nodded, "Damn straight. Extreme firepower, if method A doesnt work, that means you dont have enough firepower, so add some. Yeah, no thanks. There's a time to rock and roll, and then there's a time you put on your smarty pants and think of it on a different angle like deploying Ghost and Spectres."

  Angela, totally oblivious to all of this, " I would love to meet someone from 300 years into the future. They seem like a fun bunch of people, sounds positively Vonderful!" with her Swedish accent.

  I just smiled and said, "Yeah, fun. Soldier 76 and Cassidy Mcree would love it, I suppose. Get drunk and shoot things" I'd enjoy it too if it weren't such a pain to remain level-headed all the damn time.

  Monica lifted a holographic display. "If they are to operate publicly, they require legitimate identities, medical records, citizenship details, academic background, and employment history. This applies to Dr Ziegler and the eventual Overwatch personnel."

  I raised a brow. "You make that sound incredibly normal. Doing some security ops at Blackwall in 2010? Sure, why not? It's not like Chatgpt or Deepfake even existed yet."

  "Sometimes I wondered what you're saying, Commander. It would provide me with some context regarding this…ChatGPT," she replied flatly. "Also, it is required if she were to make use of a doctorate degree and simply vanish around the world and actively working behind the scenes. I have already compiled several scenarios and possible candidates, but the strongest is for Dr. Ziegler to be registered as a survivor of the Simurgh's Lausanne attack in 2002. Records from that incident are fragmented due to telepathic interference and mass data corruption, missing paper documents, considering the time and year, making insertion of a new survivor profile trivially easy."

  I nodded knowingly, "and that's how ChatGPT and Deepfake came to exist in the year 2019…With fake Hitler dancing in a tutu doing a podcast with a talking cat"

  Angela blinked, visibly startled. "Hitler talking to a cat doing a podcast? We dont have those back in my timeline… Oh, and what is a Simurgh? Is a Simurgh one of those Endbringers you told me about?"

  Right. Different universe. No Simurgh and ChatGPT. No Elon Musk and Grok of course, why wouldn't they know about Sora and all the nonsense stuff my timeline created. They could have created the Omnics but nooo..lets go silly. where she came from, it's just omnics and gods-awful corporations and Omnium gone crazy. Basically, Skynet, I suppose…Oh dear, maybe Elon had the right Idea. AI waifu is better than AI murderbots.

  I took a breath. "Simurgh is one of the Endbringers; it's this world's existential problems, one of the many problems this world seems to have an abundance of, but yes.. Lausanne was her first appearance. Thousands dead. Infrastructure levelled. Survivors were often misidentified or untracked entirely."

  Monica continued, her tone clinical. "Therefore, placing Dr Ziegler as an unregistered trauma survivor is optimal. She can claim amnesia of early records during the incident, which is consistent with known effects of prolonged Simurgh exposure."

  Angela's brows knit together in concern. Not fear but concern for the victims that died all those years ago even if it's not related to her. Even now, she shows remorse.

  I rubbed my face. "Monica… this is, well, understandable why we have to do this. But must it be that drastic?"

  She turned her head toward me, expression extremely neutral in that way that always meant she was trying not to look smug. "Jason, this is baseline covert-ops protocol. You requested functionality suitable for operating in a hostile timeline with catastrophic anomalies. This is standard."

  I sighed. "It still feels ...well, a little bit exploitative, but I understand why we needed to do it."

  Angela looked between us again. "If this helps me help people… I will accept it. But I don't want to lie unnecessarily."

  "I suppose we can try to alter the narrative as closely as possible to your history, even if the timeline diverges here around the early 80s." I said. "It's more of a… bureaucratic translation."

  Monica nodded far too enthusiastically for someone technically not supposed to have personality. "Affirmative. We are not falsifying your existence. We are reconciling it with local administrative expectations and adding some new history accordingly."

  Angela gave a soft, tired exhale. "Well… that sounds exactly like dealing with Swiss medical boards, so perhaps it won't be that different."

  I snorted. "You mean leaving some fake pictures of you volunteering as a Doctor working pro bono all over the world? That would get the PRT into a tizzy once they find out its all true but also a lie with their little precog under the employment of watchdogs."

  Angela grumbled but accepted it "Only if it's necessary, this isnt the first time I've been running away from the government under the Petras Act during my activities as an Agent. Oh, since I get identities, I suppose both of you have one as well? If you don't, perhaps the both of you could pass off as siblings."

  Angela's suggestion hit harder than I expected. Monica hovered nearby, arms folded, eyes flicking between us with that faint artificial pout she insisted she didn't have.

  "You two look far too similar for coincidence, even if I know..for a fact, that Monica here is an Omnic," Angela said, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "Facial structure, eyes, general proportions. If we need a public-facing explanation… siblings would be the simplest to hide her…rather unique physiology for those with discerning eyes. Are you…An Omnic Monica? I like what you did to assimilate yourself to look so lifelike."

  Monica shook her head and replied, " I am An A.I am under the UED Terran Command. Perhaps I am a little similar to these Omnics, if you prefer to call me that"

  I blinked at Monica, "Really…Siblings?" while Monica kept staring at me with a deadpan look, then a smirk. Well, yes. She is kinda like an Omnics I suppose. How do I explain ..nevermind, no need to explain it.

  "Wow…Siblings, I knew someone is gonna bring that up someday. What do you have to say for yourself, Monica?" I repeated, slightly offended on some instinctive level I couldn't explain.

  Monica nodded as if this were obvious. "Physical resemblance increases plausibility and reduces the strain on documentation fabrication. Additionally, your behavioural patterns when interacting with me contain multiple markers consistent with familial familiarity."

  "That's because you keep acting like you're trying to annoy me, oh god..you're acting like a little sister…" I muttered.

  Angela smiled gently, the kind of expression that could talk someone off a ledge. "It really does fit. And siblings offer a simpler explanation for you two arriving together, having no family records, no social footprint… It ties everything in a neat bow." She wasn't wrong. It did solve everything we needed, plus Monica was working on-site if we ever needed her.

  But it still felt weird.

  "…Okay," I sighed. "Fine. Siblings, it is. But how do we explain our country? Because last I checked, there isn't a nation somewhere on Earth Bet that survived intact in the SEA, or the rest that survived is controlled by Communism"

  Angela folded her arms, thinking. "You said an alternative Earth as well, yes? I'm sure you came from a country back home"

  "Yeah," I said. "Born and raised as a Malaysian in south Southeast Asia. A true Anak Malaysia. Although if I recall, the country was obliterated here in this world, and only Remnants of their government tried to survive against the CUI with Indonesia using cybernetic augmentation, Parahuman response. I suppose, unlike the rest of the world, they are still fighting against real communism and couldn't care less about Endbringer battles…not like they can afford to since it's all central government controlled. I wouldn't go back there even if I'm the last Parahuman on Earth. That country ain't the country I serve...Freedom is dead there."

  Angela snapped her fingers. "Then we say you both survived that particular event, and before that Endbringer attack.

  Monica nodded and chimed in, " Behemoth's destruction of Jakarta in 1998. War refugees. It would cleanly explain why documentation was lost, why we could simply vanish off the map, and why the system failed us, but the time doesn't match up. I dont exactly look anywhere above 40 with my experience. Wouldn't fit me either."

  I inhaled slowly. Indonesia was wiped out by Behemoth the same year I would have been in primary school, so that's a hard pass; the timeline wouldn't fit. Penang was hit hard enough in 2006 to rewrite the coastline and almost take out half of the peninsula. It actually fit disturbingly well, fitting too, since it was my birthplace after all.

  Monica lifted a brow. "And my background will be the same as the Commander?"

  Angela smiled again, soft and warm, while looking maddeningly competent. "Your surname fits Asian ethnicity. You can be his older sister; pick an age that fits your appearance. You were both caught in the chaos, separated for years, and only recently reunited."

  Monica immediately looked pleased.

  Too pleased.

  "…Hold on," I said. "Why do you look so smug about being assigned as my older sister? I'm the eldest! Nu-uh. You are the younger sister. My little meimei, the bocil in my life.Nu-uh. Let me be the big brother, your Oni-san..oh damn. I always wanted to be called Onichan. "

  She tilted her chin up. "Even if I am clearly the more mature and responsible of the two of us, Commander?"

  "That is factually incorrect," I said.

  "If you say so, Commander." Why do I feel like I've lost?

  Angela cleared her throat gently before the argument could spiral. "The details can be refined later. For now, the foundations are solid."

  I rubbed my temples a little. How did it come to this? A smug, overly literal, UED-trained AI sister with a human body and an ego update she definitely installed herself. So now I apparently had a sister, a fake ID as an immigrant from an insular country.

  Wow..that sucks. My dear homeland dont exist anymore. Just another playground for a despot's rule that dont resemble anything at all to my given country. The Southeast in this world sucks. Even Thailand has fallen to the CUI ..and Vietnam. Those tough motherfuckers actually lost to the Yangban? They dont even make sense.

  Angela continued, "And as for me… 'Survivor of the Simurgh attack in Lausanne, 2002' will work. It explains my medical knowledge, the gaps in my history, and the trauma markers they may look for..It's a shame that it happened to one of my countrymen, even if we are from different worlds."

  "All right," I said, exhaling. "So that's the plan. Fake identities, deepfake trail, and public-safe cover stories...We can fill in the kinks later."

  Monica nodded, already pulling up holographic windows. "I will begin constructing the data trails. Birth records, immigration logs, survivor lists, and educational backgrounds. By morning, they will be indistinguishable from authentic history, including any and all future Project Overwatch Candidates."

  Angela watched her work with a strangely fond smile. "She is… exceptional as an Omnic. Reminds me of a certain hacker"

  "You mean Sombra? Her data was corrupted." I said under my breath. "Exceptional at making herself the best hacker and technoratti back on your world, having her here would be a boon against cyber warfare, but we have Monica here."

  Monica didn't even deny it. "Correction: All your bases already belonged to mine. It is inevitable.."

  "Hey, dont quote that one to me. Reminds me too much of Thanos!"

  Angela chuckled lightly as she stepped beside us. "You two are going to fit right like proper siblings. Now, it's late and…I haven't even had a shower, oh dear. Do you have available rooms for me to bunk today?"

  I nodded to Monica as she guided Angela toward the residential wing, and I followed a few steps behind, still not entirely believing that this was happening because hey, that Angela Ziegler, Mercy herself, now walked the polished corridors of my command centre like she belonged here. The woman is practically the Mother of all Nanotechnology when it comes to healing back in her world.

  Her whole kit is based on Starcraft lore for the medic. The definition of what a pure combat medic could do when push comes to shove, and then that resurrection. It would be a great boon if she could resurrect people during an Endbringer battle. Perhaps there are limitations, but any and all advantages are welcome one until we can actually find a permanent way to kill Endbringers and directly shatter their core without relying on a certain naked Golden alien dude.

  Monica opened the door to the room we'd prepared, and Angela stepped inside. I caught her reaction immediately, of course, her eyes widened with delight, her posture straightening as she took everything in.

  The quarters weren't Overwatch-era medical bay sterile, but something closer to a high-end UED officer suite, just like mine but smaller, soft lighting, reinforced panels disguised as decorative plating, a medical workstation, a private bath, and a terran-standard holo-console already synced to her biometrics but smaller…well, not that much smaller than an apartment.

  This gave me a few Ideas regarding how I would furnish my future projects regarding free housing for the population of Brocton Bay, providing them jobs and stability more than the Mayor could.

  She walked farther in, fingertips trailing along the edge of a polished desk, eyes drawn to the built-in med-interface that could flip from diagnostic readout to surgical simulation in a blink. I'd seen people impressed by Terran tech before. Trainwreck practically worships the Marauder suit, but Angela here, she was reacting like a scientist suddenly handed a lost future or perhaps what could be if the Omnic Crisis didn't happen.

  And honestly, watching her marvel at it made me feel weirdly proud, even though none of this was my invention. I was just the guy who hit "build structure" on the damn command console.

  Monica lingered near the doorway, arms folded, wearing that annoyingly smug expression her new humanoid chassis allowed her to make. "Environmental controls are already attuned to your circadian preferences," she said, tone clipped but precise. "Should you require adjustments or medical-grade filtration, the console accepts both vocal and manual commands."

  Angela turned, awe softening into a warm smile that made her look exactly like every piece of fan art I ever saw of her back home. "This is… more than I expected," she said, voice quiet but sincere. "More than generous."

  I pretended not to notice Monica stiffening beside me. Territorial AI energy exuding off her, still weird she's this uncomfortable with Mercy. Has she never interacted with other girls? Is that it? Eh..who knows.

  The doctor wandered over to the neatly arranged set of uniforms Monica fabricated: practical, sleek, white-and-gold jumpsuits inspired by her old field gear but modernised with Terran materials. She lifted one glove, feeling the lightweight armour mesh with curiosity, probably already calculating how to integrate her Caduceus system or beginning to think how to recreate her Valkyrie Armour.

  I leaned against the doorway, letting her explore. "We wanted you to have a space where you can be at ease and also …preparing a lab for your Nano research as we speak," I said. "You're going to be helping us with a lot. You deserve a proper tech lab here in the Command Centre and a proper room to relax."

  Angela glanced at the panoramic display window, not a real view, but a live feed of the sunrise rolling over Brockton Bay's coastline. She pressed a hand to the glass, eyes softening. This world had already scarred her, even in the fake backstory we'd woven for her survival Simurgh attack, Lausanne, 2002. And yet she still looked hopeful.

  Monica took a small step closer. "If anything is insufficient, you may request upgrades. I will prioritise your needs… efficiently."

  I rolled my eyes. Maybe I need to talk to Monica about this.

  Angela turned to us again, posture relaxed now that the initial shock had passed. "Thank you. Both of you. This will work perfectly."

  I felt a quiet swell of relief. Maybe because bringing her here was the first step toward something right, I wasn't sure if bringing her into this world was the right thing. It's like playing god, reviving people who should be dead..or not. Who knows where that data came from, those Engrams? Even now, I'm still not sure…

  As she walked farther into the room, examining a diagnostic holopanel with delighted fascination, Monica tugged lightly on my sleeve. "We should allow her privacy," she murmured, tone neutral, but her eyes flicking back at Angela like a cat claiming territory.

  But she was right. Angela needed time to settle, to process this new world and this strange future. So I nodded, took one last look at Doctor Angela Ziegler exploring her new home inside a Terran command centre built in an abandoned trainyard, and pulled the door closed behind us.

  And for the first time since arriving on Earth, Bet… it felt like we were finally assembling a real team.

  At least I hope so.

  One can certainly hope in this dreadful world.

  —-

  The Next day-

  26th July Saturday- Trainyard Command Centre Bunker.

  I woke the next morning to the hum of the Command Centre.SCVs trundling outside, the moving around bringing in more steel to be processed, I stopped counting how much metal we collected and converted. Seems like there's always more steel and metal to salvage from the abandoned docks, and it doesn't seem to make a dent in the problems of the bay. It's 7 am after all. Who in their right mind would wake up this early? Me of course.

  The quiet rhythm I was getting used to changed of course, with the coming of Angela Ziegler here.By the time I made it down to the main corridor, Angela was already awake, dressed in one of the white medical coats Monica had prepared for her, hair tied up loosely as she examined one of the display terminals like she'd been here for months Just reading up medical data from the Terran Dominion repository report.

  She spotted me before I could say anything. Her brow was slightly furrowed with her thinking face, the one she'd worn last night when she first learned about Endbringers. Yeah...I had that face 2 weeks ago. Kinda funny if you think about it heh.

  "Jason," she said, "there are elderly residents living in the barracks."

  For a moment, I wondered what she meant by that and then realised she must be talking about the people I recruited. Just remembered the veterans Monica had settled in. "Right. They woke up early?"

  "They were all awake," Angela said gently. "Some are still recovering from very old injuries. The nanite treatments they received from your medical suite… they were impressive, truly. But not complete." Her eyes carried that unmistakable look, a professional with absolute certainty mixed with heroic deposition and conviction. "With the Caduceus nanotechnology, I can go further. Nerve regeneration, cellular reconstruction and even age-related degeneration. Some of those men are still in pain."

  Wait, how does she know that? Has she gone and check up on them? What time did she wake up? I let out a slow breath. I knew she would say something like this eventually. Mercy being Mercy, and I'm not really a doctor to know the underlying issue regarding serious ailments and symptoms, only to alleviate them from the issue I know coming from the tech designed here.

  Before I could answer, Monica walked in, tablet in hand, immaculately composed as always. "Dr Ziegler has made an assessment," she said, as if giving a military briefing. "She believes additional intervention is required for optimal patient outcomes."

  Angela gave her a small nod, though her eyes were still fixed on me, waiting for something, but what? Is there something I can help?

  "It's not that I don't want them healed," I said. "You can do whatever you think is right. But there's someone else I should introduce you to first."

  Angela tilted her head. "A doctor. Is there another doctor on the team?"

  "Uhh..no, She's currently working at a hospital in Brocton Bay" I said. "She's… a parahuman with a healing ability. Her methods aren't like the technology you're used to. They're biological. Very biological. She's one of the true miracle healers who could heal almost anything. A true biotinker"

  Angela's eyes brightened immediately, the curiosity unmistakable. "A natural healer with reality-manipulating properties? If her technique is observable… I might be able to study the interaction pattern between malignant cells. And perhaps adapt it into the Caduceus system."

  Monica folded her arms. "Assuming she agrees to cooperate. The parahuman population here can be unpredictable. We mentioned about Shards and how parahumans awakened their powers through trauma. That's part is one of the leading problems as to why there are more Villainous Parahumans compared to Heroic ones. Everyone here suffers from issues."

  "That's putting it lightly, if only you knew…oh boy, where do I even start?" I muttered.

  Angela looked between us, concern sliding into her expression. "Is she dangerous?"

  "Not to people she wants to help," I said. "But… her power is…complicated. And it might be exactly what you need if you want to push your nanotech to the next level."

  I didn't say Panacea's name aloud, mostly because I still wasn't sure how to approach her. But Angela didn't push. She simply nodded, gaze steady, fully prepared for whatever came next. Although maybe this is a perfect time to check on her with some of the Cadeceus Reactor tool we have here. Could try to cut a deal with the PRT to offer "parahuman" healing tech.

  Since Dragon is here in Brockton Bay as well, after Monica's … interference. I wonder if she could reverse engineer the stuff I show? Kid Win is still tinkering with the SCV, and Armsy is probably still trying to crack the code on that Neosteel and a few things I gave him that day.

  Hmm…they still haven't contacted me. I thought they would want to grill me on the tech. What happened then?

  "So," she said softly, "when can we meet her?"

  I exhaled and glanced at Monica.

  "Today," I said. " How would you like to meet the strongest parahuman healer in this country?"

  Angela smiled a small, hopeful thing that somehow made the entire Command Centre feel brighter, well…small price to pay for people who have brain issues since Panacea won't touch them. Dr Angela, on the other hand, doesn't have that sort of reservation; she upholds the Hippocratic oath and prioritises the patient's health above all else..

  Time for Panacea to get a wake-up call or not..

  It doesn't matter.

  One way or another, we're gonna have to deal with that.

  "Alright, let me suit up first. There are stuff you need to be briefed about her first"

  **********************

  AN/

  And..Mercy is here. I dont know if I did a Swiss accent right for Mercy or not, oh.. Google Translate. I hope you're right. Let's go meet Panpan next. Thank you for reading everyone, I really appreciate this