#ow oc

The second thing Alessandro noticed, once some food had gone down, was the hospital gown. These weren’t his clothes, and this wasn’t his house. What had happened? He stood straighter, scanning the room and slowly shoveling the last of the food in his mouth, chewing curiously.

He remembered running with his sisters. Blocking the door. The way Clara cried after he had disarmed her. Then, with wide eyes, the image of those dead soldiers returned. The young man covered his mouth, gagging, and now his heart raced with panic all over again. He’d killed them, that was right, and then…

“Muñecas?” He rasped, frowning and glancing down as his throat refused to work. He coughed, rubbing it with one hand, and trying again. Louder. “Girls? Clara? Luzmila? Bianca?!”

Fire began to boil his blood. He only had one thought.

Where are my sisters?

Alessandro didn’t care that he couldn’t recognize where he was. Didn’t care for the logos on the nearby walls or the way the lights seemed to automatically come to life. He stormed the door, grunting and weakly pushing it open. Only now did the weeks in bed become apparent; He fell to his hands and knees with a gasp of pain, head spinning.

It didn’t matter. He had his girls to find.

“Clara?! Bianca! Luzmila!” He yelled. His eyes squeezed shut, groaning as he leaned on the wall for support, slowly standing. With only the sound of his feet slapping onto the metal floors, he strode forward, one foot in front of the other, ignoring the sweat down his brow and the rasping of his breathing.

“Bianca,” Alessandro coughed, slinking forward onto the ground again, beside a new double door. There was machinery whirring behind it and a brighter blue glow coming out through the thin panels of glass. Unable to stand quite yet, he crawled forward, using his shoulder to silently push the left door open.

Inside was a command center. Or, at least, how he might have envisioned one. The far wall was covered in holographic and physical screens of different kinds, many with satellite imagery or street camera feeds. Many terminals had their own seats, but the center of the room seemed dominated by a large sofa. It could easily hold ten people and seemed to face the largest monitor, with two sides sticking out of it.

Strangest of all? The main screen showed a video game. Alessandro could barely see a head poking out from the sofa, unmoving, and his heart rate spiked again. Without hesitation, he looked around, crawling closer to a terminal, and squeezing his eyes shut as he pulled himself up, doing his best to muffle any painful groans.

Once he was up, he grabbed the first thing on the terminal, a stapler, and turned to the individual on the sofa. It took all his effort, one step at a time, as he approached on his own two feet. His breathing grew faster, tenser, with each step forward, preparing to swing the stapler down onto this person’s head with all the force he could muster.

It was only when he reached them that he noticed it was a her. An Asian girl, wearing a green t-shirt and black panties, stared tiredly at the screen as her fingers seemed to move on muscle memory alone. Her eyes were barely opened and she sat perfectly still, as if in a trance.

Then, without warning, her head lazily swiveled left. Both of their eyes met, his wide with surprise, and hers still half asleep and confused. She very clearly glanced at the stapler, then back to Alessandro.

Finally, her brain snapped awake. Her breath hitched and her eyes widened with recognition. She glanced at the stapler again. Before Alessandro could decide what to do, she yelled something in a language he did not understand and hurled her game controller forward.

It hit him with a sickening crack! He fell flat on his back, crying out as pain exploded from his nose to the rest of his face. His eyes closed, head leaning back against the cold floor as he tried to think.

Her footsteps, confident and strong, were coming closer. Panicking, he opened one eye to see her approach and grit his teeth, grabbing her ankle with one hand. With all the remaining strength Alessandro had, he pulled back, hearing a satisfied yelp as the girl hit the sofa and fell to the ground. But she wasn’t half dead, alone, and confused. In an instant, she shifted closer and grabbed his wrist, wrapping her bare legs around his arm before locking him in an arm bar.

“Fuck!” Alessandro yelled, grasping weakly with his free arm. “Let me go! ¡Putísima madre que te parió!”

“How did you get in here?!” She snapped, keeping her hold tight. Her eyebrows scrunched together in anger and confusion until she finally scanned her supposed attacker. Then they widened in shock. “Hey, you’re the kid from the med bay.” It took another moment for her to gasp in recognition, panicking as she released his arm and scuttled back. “You’re the boy from the med bay! Don’t move! I’ll get help-”

“No!” Alessandro snapped, lifting his head to glare at her. He reached out with a hand, swallowing hard. “Please don’t. I- I’m just really fucking lost, okay? Can we...can we take a second?”

“But your nose,” she began to say, only to be cut off.

“I barely hurts. Please, just...help me up.”

She smiles, pitifully, which stirs a little annoyance in his chest. “Promise not to attack me?”

“Promise.”

Just like that, the night seemed to return to that peaceful, three in the morning feeling. Her game was on the main menu, quietly humming its music, the blue light from the screens washed the entire room in a soft glow, and then there was the girl. She helped him reach and sit down on the sofa, stronger than he had imagined, and with a protectiveness he usually gave rather than enjoyed. Then she sat on the other side, criss-crossing her legs, leaning on them with both hands, and watching him intently.

“How are you feeling?” She finally asked when he leaned back and closed his eyes. She sounded genuinely concerned, which made Alessandro snort.

“You kind of kicked my ass,” he replied, smiling tightly and lazily dropping his head to look back at her. “Like, badly. I’m not feeling too hot.”

She frowns, half glaring at him, and her voice is sharp with accusation. “You were about to hit me with a stapler. Actually, it looked like you wanted to kill me.”

That brings him back to reality. His eyes drop, looking away from her in shame, and the memories from earlier rush back. It’s too much, all at once, to even attempt to process. Especially now that he was thinking and not reacting. His mother was dead. He could still see the face of her killer: A woman of purple skin, a dozen red eyes, and a sleek black rifle. He remembered the way her body fell, eyes wide with shock and completely blank.

Then there was the matter of his sisters. Clara’s crying face as she aimed the gun at him felt seared into his retinas.

“Hey.” She was next to him now, a soft hand gently shaking his shoulder. “Where are you?” Her eyes narrow, nose scrunching up in suspicion or confusion. “You’re safe here.”

“I was thinking about my sisters, it's all,” he sighed heavily, shoulders slumping and looking away. “Where are they? Were they injured, too? If I’m alright, after covering them, I’m guessing they’re well off.”

The girl’s eyes widen, surprised, staring at him blankly. Alessandro’s stomach drops before she says the words.

“What sisters? You were the only one left at the house.”

“No,” he snapped, smiling widely, nervously, his heart rate shooting up at an instant. He grabbed her arms, squeezing. “There were three girls. Triplets. They were underneath me. We hid in the corner, and I covered them when the house came down. Where are they?”

“Oh no,” she murmured, remaining calm despite his aggression. “Look, there were no bodies there. No sign of a struggle or blood, beside yours. Okay? We can-”

Alessandro’s breath was coming out faster now, shallow and panicked breaths that made his sight spin. “You didn’t grab my sisters? They’re only eight! How the fuck did you miss them? Was anyone there before you? What happened to the house?! The town?!”

“Calm down,” she tried again, gripping his shoulders tightly. “Look at me: Breathe. We can figure out what happened together. Alright? We’re here to help.”

“Who the fuck is we?” He snapped, volume rising.

“We are Overwatch,” another voice chimed in, from the door. Alessandro’s head snapped to the right, looking over the sofa, past the computers and metal floor, to the entrance. The image was so strange that it actually calmed him for a moment, forcing his brain to question itself.

The woman before them looked like an angel. A very tired angel. She had porcelain skin, blue eyes with dark circles under them, and short blonde hair with the bangs brushed thicker over her right eye. Most of her form was covered by a white and brown body suit, with golden fabric falling loosely on the front and back. She stepped forward, and two mechanical wings flexed silently.

“I think I’m losing my mind,” he said, smiling again. Giggling. Before he knew it, he had let go of the girl and fallen back on the sofa, cackling loudly and sobbing, covering his face with both hands. “I’m losing my gods damned mind! Oh man, I’m insane. I lost it. I died.”

“He’s hysterical,” the angel said, already looming over the sofa. Her heels click on the floor as she walks around to their side, pressing a hand to his cheek. “You should have alerted Athena immediately, Hana.”

“I didn’t want this to happen,” the girl, Hana, answered loudly, her face covered in concern. “Can’t you fix him, Angela?”

“My technology is for physical wounds. This is an emotional overload. Trauma.” Her voice is as mechanical as her wings. Even in his panic, the fatigue is obvious. A healthier Alessandro might have tried to help her.

Instead, he laughed again, furiously wiping his face and shaking his head. “No, no, no, I’m fine. I’m fine. Fuck! I’ll be fine-”

“Shhh,” the angel, Angela, cuts him off with a gentle squeeze on the cheek. “Look at me. You are right. For now, breathe with me. Yes? In…” She exaggeratedly inhales. “And out.”

He flinches, something pricking his neck, smile turning into a frown, but Angela leans down, holding his gaze with those sad eyes. “Look at me. You are alright. Keep breathing.”

Only the tiniest voice of reason warned Alessandro that he had been given something. Yet, even with her cold disinterest, the angel is something to look at. Her hand is warm and strong. For the first time since his mother was shot, he thinks: Maybe I can let go for one second.

The moment his mind surrenders, it is easy for the drug to take over. His breathing becomes easier, and the laugh-crying stops. The sofa feels soft as his head falls back and she releases him, eyes slowly drooping back to sleep.

“We’ll keep him under supervision,” Angela said to Hana, softly. “He will awaken tomorrow, probably early, and then we will figure out the situation.”

“He said he had sisters with him at the house,” Hana whispered back, standing up with a regretful expression. “Did we miss something back there?”

Angela muttered something he couldn’t get, in German, maybe, and exhaled dramatically. “I will tell Sojourn.”

That was the last Alessandro heard before the darkness took over completely.