[center [i From fire, fire.][pic https://media.giphy.com/media/6DaMUkEG23rZ6/giphy.gif]]
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Klaes wasn't sure what this feeling was, this unconvinced air settling about Reyes' statement like a chalk outline. Morrison had seemed to buy it? He left it where it was, nodding in agreement. Torbjörn had begun digging around in [i his] duffelbag, to which he frowned and pulled it off his shoulder, defeated. [b "Very full, indeed."]
He handed his uncle the bag and waited for him to 'borrow' one of his cables, tucking it into his trouser pockets and handing the bag back, unzipped.
Such a pain. Klaes zipped it himself and hurried to follow the pair, glad to gradually get out of the immediate heat but suddenly more aware of his choice in attire. [i A basement], certainly not a good match for white fabrics.
[right [pic https://s26.postimg.org/q4utnvpq1/2017-08-30-09-06-20-318-334x488.jpg]]He'd been wanting to meet the others, but was reluctant to do so covered in sweat, cobwebs, and potentially, battery fluid. Then again, Reyes seemed to think they were plotting to blow the base to smithereens, which was amusing enough. [b "It most likely won't kill anyone, but we shall see."] he deadpanned, descending into the cooler space and boredly eyeing the unit's wiring and fixtures. Something like this... Klaes could have fixed this with one eye closed, in high school. It would take longer, of course, with just one set of eyes, but from the looks of things, it couldn't be more than a few hours worth of work.
When Jack and Gabriel had left them, Klaes went about folding and repacking his jacket, less conflicted about dirtying the shirt underneath it than about having to scrub stains from white material. As he rolled his sleeves up and put on his glasses once more, he shot a look at his uncle, stroking his beard as he went through his tool sets.
[b "You know how much I hate to lie, uncle."] he remarked irritably, popping open the circuit breaker and switching the central air system on and off several times. Slight whirring in the fans, but certainly, the wiring was busted, he could hear the chaotic buzzing in the lines. Torbjörn must have heard it, too, donning thick rubber gloves and removing the cables from his pocket.
He did not look at his nephew, concentrating instead, though he did respond. [i "'T'ain't a lie if you ARE planning to fix it, lad."]
Klaes exhaled, accepting his new fate as he gave in. His logic was garbage, but it was better than nothing? He pulled a device from his bag and used a cable and clips to connect the handheld to the exhausted and or broken wires beside the vents, running diagnostics as his uncle began to unscrew the face of the central box, wishing to get a better look at the ports and outlets.
[b "...we destroyed it. Why bring me here, why lie?" Nobody knew about it other than you and myself-"]
His uncle scratched at his chin, refusing to look him in the eye. Klaes' felt his eyes widen, biting down the urge to yell. [b [i " Who?"]] he demanded in a low hiss, pulling one earpiece out of his ear to listen as the scan continued. Torbjörn huffed, rolling his eyes.
[i "Calm, boy, calm. T'was before we reached the building phase, I thought I'd send in the basic concept to an old friend o' mine with NASA, it'd have saved 'em so much money, and you'd have had a wee bit o' recognition fer once-"]
He took in a sharp breath. Klaes' fingertips clutched the bridge of his nose as he tried to process what he was hearing. He couldn't rein in his control, his hold over his tongue failing entirely as the full force of his accent hit his words. He did his best to keep his voice down, even stepping closer to the shorter man to project better, however only as low as his rage would allow. [b "Y'gave my name n' project data to NASA?! Did'ja give 'em my address, too? 'Haps a list o' my greatest fears and all my past prescriptions? Di'n't I tell you I don't invent to collect royalties? Christ, uncle, the building phase was only just before New Years, they'll be at my door for an update, I give it two months or less! What if someone intercepted it?!"]
His PDA chirped to announce its completion, his eyes traveling down to inspect it. Torbjörn grunted. [i "What's it, then?"]
[b "...'er valves are a bit weak, the power isn't circulating. There's also what appears to be a flagged duct, maybe a blockage. We might have to-... AYE! I wasn't done talkin' t'you about the-"]
His hand dipped into his bag, retrieving a labeled pouch of 6mm screws as he continued. [b "-here you are, now what about my-!"]
[i "Yer gonna hafta' climb up in the ducts."]
Klaes looked up, the color leaving his face.
[b "...! You're kidding."]
The older Swede blinked. [i "My rump is too wide, lad."]
Torbjörn was not kidding. What a day this was turning out to be.
So.. this was Torbjorn's nephew? Reyes remained silent as Jack's somewhat clammy hand cause slight discomfort. The broody Commander only greeted the Swede with a firm nod, [b "I see.. You'll have your hands full, I take it?"] Gabriel knew better than to take anyone's immediate word. There was always an ulterior motive - in some shape or in some form. His voice came off as the usual calm and slightly sarcastic tone while the still ever piercing eyes remained unwavered.
He'd have to keep an eye on the dwarf amd his kid.
[b "Most of the team are already evaporating from this heat, myself included-"]
Commander Morrison was now leading the littlw group down into the basement where the cooling and heating systems were kept. Thankfully, it was much cooler underneath the base and the humidity lessened the more they descended. [b "You'll have time to mingle with the others later. Though, Torbjorn, Wilhelm was inquiring if you'd have time to possibly look over his armor during your visit. Apparently it was starting to give after the last mission."] This statement only caused a grunt of frustration to emerge from the Swedish bulk of muscle,
[b "Yarr! That there Reinhardt is goin't'be needin' a new arm or leg when I'm done with'em!"]
All threats aside, Wilhelm and Torjorn were close friends from back in their younger days in Germany. The Swede would visit from time to time for parts and trade while the hulking gentle giant would be busy with his heroics. A true brotherly bond formed soon after. Eventually the little chat-n-hike trek to the mechanical room came to a halt, and Reyes quickly unlatched the steel doors. Once inside, he stated, [b "You boys behave. I don't want to end up down here with a face full of smoke or to have the base turn into a giant man-roasting oven-"], this comment received only a glare from Jack, [b "Gabe, don't even joke about that. Please."] The two men said their goodbyes and turned to leave. By this point, Jack was long gone - most likely, he'd be tunneled up in his office and surrounded by more wannabe hero applications. Reyes on the other hand?
He decided to stick close to the basement. This was simply for... Observation purposes.
[center [pic https://s13.postimg.org/oywvufsuv/cephas.jpg]]
[i "What d'you think of 'er?"]
He adjusted his spectacles, leaning in for a closer look at the control module. It was quite nice, albeit simple. There were about a dozen buttons or small levers to flick, numbered rather than named, and were encircled by colored 'zones'. Klaes let free an enthused whistle, leaning back on the heels of his aging tennis shoes as he tossed a look down at the aging Swede.
[b "She flies all on her own, then? Jesus, Uncle, this is-"]
[i "The start for some o' my best work, certainly."]
Klaes' mouth shut, pressed thin, not overly fond of being cut off but agreeing, to a point. [b "...yes, well. I was also going t'say she's missing a few bits-"]
A heavy hand beaver-smacked into his lower back, rattling his teeth. [i "Be still, lad, we aren't taking her, we'll be takin' a bigger bird."]
Klaes could feel relief and disappointment clashing inside him, stuck between his ever present curiosity and his small, feeble desire to prioritize the higher probability of living by taking a better prepared ship to Mexico. His uncle's self-operating unit was without weaponry, and was better built for speed and evasion at the moment. His uncle, never one to exclude the big guns, was still working on evening out the added weight as per her speed. She was naked, as far as either Lindholm was concerned. Neither would call a weaponless machine anything but unfinished. Klaes himself was prepared to toss their trip in the air entirely and stick around to fix her himself, if not for his uncle's insistence upon their departure. He couldn't imagine why it was such a big to do, and was almost averse to going anywhere at all. Could he REALLY leave such a beautiful piece here, unfinished?
They were apparently headed out to the boiling pits of Hell to fix a cooling unit, hardly urgent in his eyes, but he supposed death by heatstroke was a bit much. The members of Overwatch, from the stories he'd been hearing for so long, deserved a working cooling system.
He followed the smaller man with but a single duffelbag over his shoulder, not one much for overpacking. His uncle's tools would suffice, tools of which he never seemed to travel without. There was another reason for Klaes having been hauled out of his house in the hills, away from his lab and his reading and his projects. Torbjörn had expressed some concern as per their shared project, which he wasn't sure he was as worried about, but hey, if Uncle T thought he ought to hang around Overwatch for a while as a safety precaution, he could fill his time with tea and fantastic machinery there at the base just the same.
As they boarded the airship and took up the pilot seats, Torbjörn grabbed his attention by rapping the back of his hand on his nephew's shoulder a few times, apparently having decided to try and brief him on all of his friends... [i Again]. Klaes barely managed to keep his eye from twitching, and he maintained his silence for the majority of the flight, gracing the rambling man with an 'Oh?' or a raise of his brows from time to time. It wasn't unbearable, but he wished he'd brought along something to tinker with... Instead, here he was, 30 years old, going on another impromptu field trip with T, just as he had as a child
Again, he was stuck listening to questionable recollections of old antics and past missions.
If not for the shared blood and the eccentricities between them, Klaes was sure they'd never have come to be so close. Then again, after what he and his uncle had finished in Belgium this past year, Klaes could see why his uncle had asked him to tag along, he knew his uncle and loved him dearly, so his worrying was nothing to ignore. In the beginning, they had merely been testing each other's limits, a bit of friendly competition. Torbjörn, proud as he was, decided they ought to cap it by polishing it off by Klaes' own hand. His uncle allowed him to code the rest, even having celebrated its completion afterward. Their simulations were on the alarming side, however. The potential for such technology was limitless, but would come with a great deal of lost lives if put to use by the wrong person.
Adjusting the gravitational system and magnifying it for a global range could result in atmospheric shifts. The Sun's rays would ravage the Earth tenfold, and the temperatures would shift too drastically for the planet's inhabitants to acclimate to. If, instead, someone opted to rearrange the electrical systems and create an EMP device by removing or excluding entirely the Farraday shields from its structure, it would be easy to shut down all manner of power and transportation in large areas, or even to duplicate the piece to cover more ground. It'd be easier still to keep the droves of terrified victims in one place, in the dark, for easy access.
There were innumerable ways to edit Klaes' craftsmanship, so many that both uncle and nephew agreed that its cons outweighed its pros. It had originally been just a tool for the storage and gathering and translation of large quantities of energy, innocent enough, no harm intended. They hadn't meant to make it possible to weaponize it, but their thirst for glory had overidden their good intentions [i just] long enough to invade its production. They deactivated it, disassembled it, and blew the pieces sky high to keep it from the wrong people. The blueprint remained with Klaes, and the final adjustments weren't written anywhere; He had memorized them himself. Even with the blueprint, any 'art thief' would have a lifeless, dull metal panel, with nothing to show for their efforts. Klaes knew every scrap of the device, inside and out, and was fully prepared to die without sharing the finishing touches with anyone.
Klaes did not regret his choice to destroy the piece, he didn't mind being proud in secret, [s cuddling] ogling the blueprint every now and again when no one was around.
Klaes landed ALONE, his chubby uncle's rump pressing into his shoulder as he rummaged through his bags with a giant red claw as they made their descent. He leaned away and rolled his eyes before removing his glasses, presumably in Dorado, as he set the bird down in a hangar with a [i half-assed] visual.
[b "Would you mind [i letting me off the damned plane], uncle?"] he asked from nearly UNDERNEATH the smaller man, cursing his luck. He pulled at the collar of his jacket, able to feel the beginnings of the heat already.
His uncle turned to greet him, humming, an augmented lugwrench between his teeth as he responded. It was, of course, unintelligible. Klaes pulled up his bag from the compartment in the floor, grumbling as he made his way to the doors to get the HELL off this ship. He was grown, and the dynamic between himself and his uncle hadn't changed one bit since before he'd learned to lace his own shoes. It got to him, but he'd long since attributed this to Torbjörn's readiness for spontaneity.
He could see the heat in the air, imagining the hangar floor must be boiling underfoot. He exited the craft anyway, though, glad to be able to stretch his legs. Meeting Overwatch was of interest to him, as well... Wasn't there a talking gorilla somewhere? He'd heard great things.
Unfortunately, his train of though was broken up by his uncle's shoving, finally having left the craft and now unreasonably impatient with Klaes as he eyed the hangar. He waved at someone, and he could see two people approaching, certainly friends of Torbjörn's from the sound of his odd combination of chuckling and grumbling.
[i "Just the two of ya, then? Were the rest too busy crying in the heat 'ta come along? HAH!"]
He patted his nephew's arm as they all came to a stop before one another, gesturing toward the white-clad gentleman to his side. Klaes was very partial to whites and lavendars, they were his favorite colors. His father hated his clothes and his distaste for the farm life, but that wasn't Klaes' problem. Cattle farming wasn't his calling and he had five overly brutish elder sisters to fill in for him. No, he took more after his mother, not at all portly in his build and a great deal more intelligent than his father and siblings.
[i "This here'd be my nephew! He's not much for a fight but 'e's got other uses."] his uncle said as his mechanical claw gestured upward toward his head. Klaes hated being introduced by others, but not as much as he hated being spoken of like a pansy. He had his mother's wiriness, but was not without his defenses. He'd been a practiced martial artist for the vast majority of his life, why did fighting defensively mean so little?
Brown eyes took notice of both men before him, putting names to faces. He had seen and heard enough to know which were which, in most regards. Let's see...
Morrison. Commander Morrison. Ah... Reyes. Gabriel, Reyes. Yes, that seemed right. They each seemed impressive by reputation, though at the moment they seemed... Sweaty. He could understand. Klaes removed his gloves and tucked them into the pockets of his trousers, extending a hand for both or either to shake. [b "Hello gentlemen, I'm-"]
[i "-a Lindholm, like me and his father, both."] his uncle intercepted proudly, resulting in a death glare on Klaes' part. [b "...Klaes."] he finished irritably, returning his attention to Morrison and Reyes. [b "He tells me a lot, at any rate. 'S nice to finally meet a few of you in person."]
He meant this, of course.
Overwatch was famous for its do-gooding, while Klaes was famous for very little. He wasn't one much for the public eye, locking himself and his many creations away in dimly lit labs to work and grumble in the dark by himself. If not for his uncle, he'd never have left his workshop to begin with.
He shook the Commander's hand first, swallowing down any and all distaste as the clamminess of the soldier's flesh overtook the gesture. [i "Are you here to help him fix the unit?"] came the inquiry through a grin, to which Klaes nodded his confirmation. [b "Yes, yes I am."]
He hated lies.
An organization built to spread peace and progress to the world, one step at a time. It had only been roughly six years since the group's initial launch, and despite it having such a young age, Overwatch became the beacon of hope that mankind seemed to lack fairly quickly. So much so, it was a literal household name. New saviors and soldiers were joining left and right, and with good reason.
War, famine, sickness.. News of their deeds spread like a wildfire.
Overwatch was there to aid the sick, to feed the hungry, nuture the poor, to protect and support the weak, and to fight the battles that were being fought. The group quickly grew in numbers - starting out from a simple quartet to now over thousands on thousands of members. However, despite their numbers, the original four were still held in the highest regard.
Captain Ana Amari, from the sands of Egypt, this skilled on-field medic is a terribly wicked shot - but she also was a mother to her little tag a long daughter, Fareeha Amari. But if need be the woman could be a reliable source of "the mom talk" or a just a shoulder to lean on.
The Lion, Wilhelm Reinhardt, the massive German warhammer with the biggest heart and of course the loudest laugh you's ever hear.
Commander Jack Morrison, a super soldier but deep down a former farm boy from a wee town in Indiana - a strong, but able man who was honest and just.
And finally Commander Gabriel Reyes, a man from Los Angeles, who seemed gruff, but overall was an honest softie. But on the field he was the most ruthless and calculating soldier you'd ever face.
These were the faces of leadership and strength. But they also were a helping hand and a supportive voice to all their operatives - whether the problem be big or small.
The say was July 19th, 2074, and the sun's rays were beyond blazing. It was far too hot for the new recruits to train, let alone it was making a good lot of them antsy or agitated.
[b "Bloody hell, it's hot!"]
The chipper, young Brit, Lena Oxton, had been found moping about the cafeteria hall - fanning herself with a tray. A gruff laugh followed next to her. Here sat what appeared to be a gorilla.. with glasses and a space suit.
Winston, Overwatch's head scientist from the Lunar Space Colony Horizon. And no, please do not refer to him as a "monkey", "ape", or "gorilla". He then spoke, [b "Tracer, please. Commander Morrison sent word to Torjorn roughly an hour ago to take a look at the cooling system-"], however, Lena still fussed, [b "Winstoooon, why can't you just have Athena fix it?"] Winston only shook his head. Athena was an incredibly skilled and multipurposed AI system of his creation, but the program could only control and do so much. While the two friends continued to somewhat bicker over the heat, we find Commander Morrison and Reyes in a nearby hall - staring out if one of the base's many large scale windows.
[b "Tell me again why building a base here in Dorado was a smart idea-"]
Jack was not too unfamiliar with summer heat, but here in Mexico, it was far worse than what he was used to. Besides the heat, the man had seemed to strip himself down to a basic set of uniform combat pants and one of those blasted sleevless turtlenecks Amari felt was "suitable and professional". Gabriel let out a snurk, [b "We're trying to expand our horizons, remember? It was your idea, after all, Jackie."] On rare occasions such as this, Reyes seemed to be in a decent mood - though they may have only been due to his friend's discomfort. Then again, Gabe was standing there in a full grey hoodie with a damned beanie!
[b "You called on the Swiss Dwarf to fix the unit. He should be here by now-Oh wait, there he is."]
Gabriel's steely eyes drifted down towards the outside hangar and low and behold was an airship swiftly delivering the Swedish engineer aid. There appeared to be someone with him?
[b "Let's go, Jack. We may as well greet the bastard before you melt."]
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